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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 10 months

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Yandere male Areal??

Yandere Genderbend Ariel x Reader

Well, what were you supposed to say when you saw some girl come out of the water singing with a shell on her neck? But for your parents, it was perfect grounds to leave you with a forced 'apology gift' of being the head planner for their wedding ceremony. You felt it was ironic that was your 'punishment' when your the king and queen spent a whole day with your sister being hypnotized and hadn’t noticed–but whatever. You didn’t mind and in the end, Erica admitted she never blamed you. You’d do this not only to get your parents off your back but for your sister even if her groom was a hopeless case.

“No Arrel! Don’t put that in your mouth!“

“But it looks just like–”

“It doesn’t belong there! Spit. It. Out.”

Perhaps this was why they didn’t bother, they knew you’d have a hard time educating the merprince. Since his negotiated stay for the wedding and there on a switch occurred: while the prince is on land the princess navigates the sea. It was Triton’s final stipulation, her only way to test and know the woman meant to take away her darling boy.

“How is he fairing?”

“Your Highness…he’s got a ways to go…”

You lifted your shoulders up as you moved your hands like a seesaw. Facing the magical reflection of the Queen of Atlantica, who twirled her trident and stroked her braid.

“Ah I know that tone…my Arrel is so much like his father…a little scatterbrained, yes but his heart was always in the right place.”

Surrounded by smile lines she reminisced with a sad fondness. You admired the ruler, even if she might’ve hated your family in the beginning. But just as any human would she cared about family and that was more uniting than anything.

“Speaking of, how’s my sister? Not giving you too much trouble I hope?”

Triton chuckled, “Oh no she’s been a dream and a fast learner too!”

“Ah, that's good.”

“She says she misses you.”

You playfully scoffed, ”That softy, of course, she’d say that.”

Talking late into the night, you both exchanged the highlights of your family’s adventures. Snickering to one another as you laugh at their failures, playfully jesting with one another about them. But the night was drawing to a close and with yawns from you, you moved to make your departure.

“Oh (Y/n), before you go–I have a bit of advice for you when training Arrel?”

“Oh?”

____________________________________________________

“Alright, Arrel we’re going to try something a little different today.”

“Uughhhh! Is this new thing going to be how I’m supposed to move these feet!? All day these tu-ders have been making me use them and I’m just tired of it!”

“Oh? That’s too bad, we were going to walk into town–”

“LET’S GO!”

Hopping giddily on the feet he claimed to exhaust minutes ago, he followed you to the prepared carriage ready to take you both into town. Bouncing his knees and smashing his face into the window to look at the surrounding greenery. Tapping twice at the wood above you the carriage rolled to a stop just outside the town. The redhead tilted his head at you following eagerly as you stepped out and waved the carriage off.

“Today you’re going to explore the town for yourself.”

“Myself? Like I pick where we walk!?”

“Yes, yes I’m just here if you have any questions. So where first princey?”

He excitedly intertwined his hand with yours before darting off in a clumsy run. Dashing through the marketplace as he searched for a specific stall. When he found it he released you stopping abruptly, naturally leaving you to smash into his back. Steadying yourself you walked beside him as he excitedly smiled at the stand.

“I want those things!”

“Things? Do you mean the apples?”

“Ah-pulls? Is that the red rocks?”

“They’re fruit, and their called–A-pples.”

“Aaaahhhh-pulls?”

Paying for the fruit would be the first of Arrel’s many souvenirs that he gained throughout his field trip. The lesson was more engaging and fruitful than anything you had tried before. Exercising new vocabulary and practicing the right platitudes when speaking with others, Arrel was learning so much. Watching the mer-prince’s mind racing with excitement as he truly came to learn what life as a human was like. You could understand why Erica fell so fast.

“Ah the uhm–sun, is settling, right?”

“Close enough. We’re allowed to be out a little bit longer if you want but if you’re tired–”

“Hmmm, I want to go to one last place! Is that okay (Y/n)? “Yup but where do you want to go?”

“I can’t think of the word uh just come with me!”

Once again weaving your fingers with his own he pulled you away from the populated streets of the town. Taking you to a place that sparked a forlorn nostalgia in its discovery. The grotto. As you helped Arrel who was trying to recall the actions of Erica to send you out on the boat, you let the memories of the place run wild.

“Come on (Y/n)! I found this cool place where I can be the captain!”

“Okay okay! Wait for me *huff huff* I have tiny legs.”

Just like before you let eager hands take the handles of the paddles from you, in order to enjoy the way the reflecting light shines in their eyes. Letting you sit back to see the beauty in their dreams flash in their eyes.

Arrel was no different than Erica.

Beautifully smiling as your boat floats into the blue lagoon. It was a gem, that no doubt was the catalyst of many romances. Drifting from under the rising moon to the roof of the willow tree’s branches, entering a world of flora and fauna. Firefly lights illuminated the space giving a magical glow to space; you’d be concerned if you didn’t fall in love.

“...Isn’t it fantastic? Those eels got in the way last time but now…this is perfect!”

Arrel mumbled to himself to which you tilted your head.

“Uhm Arrel wouldn’t it really be perfect if you were back here, with Erica?”

“...Well yeah…but I don’t know it feels right like back then!”

“Arrel…is this feeling awe?”

"Awww?"

“Awe. Like you’re enamored with nature and feel of this place.”

“Mmmh that sounds right!”

“But do you realize how that sounds when–ugh forget it you probably don’t even notice anyway.”

You quieted after that and enjoyed the orchestra of croaking frogs and crickeys. Gingerly reclaiming the paddles when Arrelbegan to dangerously slump against the boat. With great coaxing, you returned to the entrance of the lagoon and scheduled for the carriage ride home.

This would be the first of many new adventures into the town. Triton encouraged a more rewarding type of learning for his son whose attention was short for study but active for his curiosity. And it had become quite the brag to have the prince whine through his other lessons to attend your own. So in between you’re days spent organizing the intricacies of the wedding, you were taking Arrel into the town. On particularly busy days you did try assigning Grimsey to be his chaperone but the prince wouldn’t budge; instead, he spend his day clinging to your leg. Sullying your pant leg with his tears he refused to commit to his outings if you weren’t the one guiding him.

Other than that little hiccup, it was smooth sailing. Magically calling Triton as you both gushed about your respective students. As the days counted by the glorious day of the wedding was surging forth and you along with everyone else were on cloud 9.

It would be a glorious day.

____________________________________________

The news came as quick as a light shower. Lightly washing over the freshly painted smile on your face. Leaving an incredulous daze to take place as you could only tentatively look at the greyed sky.

“W-what?!”

“Erica…is dead.”

Perhaps it was because you hadn’t seen the body. Maybe that was why you didn’t immediately cry; you didn’t believe it. The princess–-your sister was supposed to return today. Return to her post on land to prepare for the big day. To whine in your ear about all her worries and woes as you fitted her gown for the overeating she most definitely did while in Atlantica. She and Arrel would have been squealing and twirling one another as though they’d been apart for years.

They ruled it an accident. Pure coincidence that the second she had been given her legs and ran to your parents she wobbled, clutched at her chest, and collapsed. A heart failure…an underlying condition she must have been secretly stoking with her hunger for adrenaline. A horrible match really.

The king and queen weren’t the only ones to witness the sight, Arrel was there as well. Having slipped past an adamantly guarding Grimsey to hug his beloved fiancee. Slowing his run when he found that her reaching out to him was not in welcome but in a reluctant farewell. Triton looking horrified from the safety of the sea, not only witnessed the fragility of humans firsthand but the terror it brought her baby boy.

Both kingdoms were thrown in disarray. The ones on land were rightfully devastated as the white decor became black with mourning. Those in the water did their own preparations longing not only for the loss of a new friend but of the uncertainty this meant. War? Forever severed ties between kingdoms? Atonement? Nothing was set in stone, even the status of Prince Arrel was a tempest gray. So overcome with grief he refused his mother and brothers when they begged him to come home.

“No…I won’t….not when…she’s gone.”

Your parents, too consumed in their own grief and the state of the kingdom to give nothing but tearful remarks to the prince. So it was up to you. Up to you to chaperone the fish out of the water with a new lesson. A grim one. All about continuing on if only in reverence of those beyond.

“Do…you not have funerals in Atlantica?”

“Barely…we live…long…healty lives…”

You dryly laughed, looking past your veil at the lowering coffin.

“Heh, guess we just aren’t meant to last that long.”

Arrel looked at you noting the salted water streaming down your face and the way your lips curved the opposite of their usual state. He did what he saw others do: wrapping his arms around you, subconsciously curling into the warmth you provided.

Living humans were so much warmer.

He found that to be true when he awoke in the same position behind you in Erica’s bed. You couldn’t sleep, trudging through the halls into her room. Grazing your fingers along the untouched relics of her past. Shining brightly under the stream of the moonlight’s beams was Erica’s bed. So undisturbed it made you hesitate to ruin it even in your tired state. But in your mind was the memory of a younger Erica reaching out to you from her bed as she looked longingly at the sea.

“(Y/n), come come. I’m always happy to have you in bed with me. Cozy up with your big sis every once in a while…”

So with her voice and smile replaying in your clouded mind you curled into her bed. Shuffling under her comforter, smelling the faint remnants of her presence within the sheets. Unshed tears collected in your lashes as you succumbed to much-needed sleep. Completely unaware of the prince with a similar yearning. Tired and consumed with grief he saw no problem with shoving his nose into the crook of your neck as he curled himself around you.

You smelt nice.

Not the same as Erica but comforting all the same.

He’d spend many nights completing this ritual. Having waking moments that led to joining you in Erica��s bed. Waking together with the comfort of one another's heat before silently encouraging one another to eat. Even when you no longer found yourself needing to go to Erica’s room, Arrel still found himself waking up beside you.

It didn’t feel right not to at this point.

______________________________________________

As your debilitating depression became something manageable you found yourself able to offer your guidance to the rest of the castle. Becoming a figurehead as the only remaining heir and one of the few able to look logically through this season in the kingdom.

“(Y/n)...my baby…we worry that with this incident the kingdom has fallen behind in their affairs…”

“Truthfully we’d rather devastate ourselves than put you in this position–”

“Right, this is only if it’s alright with you…if you’d even consider it. Its a big responsibility–”

“Mother Father, please. Tell me what does the kingdom need?”

Letting out a shaky sigh she continued, “With this–no doubt severed connection with the sea kingdom it's best that we start looking to wed suitors with nearby kingdoms…”

You nodded. It was expected—that the next course of action was to reach for security. Even with the contact established for Triton attempting to speak with a distraught Arrel it wasn’t a situation to debate. Already having to dissuade the misinformed conspirators that were insistent that it was the mer-population fault along with the general instability of the kingdom. You were prepared for this, as you’d been raised to.

“I will begin looking at suitors two days from now.”

“S-so soon?!”

“We might as well move fast while all the preparations for a wedding remain. Not to mention this is for the kingdom, right your Highnesses?”

“Y-yes!”

“T-thank you, (Y/n)! We’ll begin preparing right away!”

When you exited the room you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Swallowing a silent plea you deeply inhaled and exhaled, holding your head high as you made your way through the castle. There was much to be done and no one needed a moping leader.

Unbeknownst you a certain bird was intently listening through an open window.

_______________________________________________________

When the day came, you fought the turmoil in your tummy as you let yourself be dolled up. Settling in the comfort of the garden for the suitors to give their impressionable first meeting. At the sound of the bell, the speed dates interviews would begin. With cups full of tea you would let various royal suitors talk you up about their many ventures. After a day full of bragging and insincere condolences as they attempted to capture you’re attention. Taking note of the least hated potentials, you sighed but nodded for the maid to call in the last suitor. Keeping your eyes on the cold ceramic you prepared yourself for the final interview.

“You look…tired.”

Your eyes snapped up to meet the sullen blues of a familiar redhead. Dressed in the pink drawstring blouse and matching pants, he looked the most put together since the funeral.

“...Arrel?”

“Do we have to stay at this…venue?”

Visibly trying the word on his tongue he smiled at you. Hand outstretched to you with the eyes of a mature prince. Torn between familiarity and proper etiquette you take his hand. Letting him lead you through your own castle to the entrance where a carriage was waiting. Helping you in first, you let Arrel tap the roof of the carriage starting an unknown route.

You didn’t bother speaking, finding that more was understood when nothing was said at all. Resting into the cushion of the seat you barely registered the familiar buildings and stalls being passed by. Sitting up to look at the waving citizens of the town.

“Are we-?”

You didn’t bother finishing, turning to look at Arrel who was lightly smiling as he looked out the opposite window.

When the carriage stopped it was at the man-marked dock of the blue lagoon. A simple wooden boat tied and awaiting you and Arrel as its passengers. Once again hand-in-hand he pulled you along seating you in the boat before pushing away. Discretely making eye contact with the coachman and guard who briefly tilted their hat to you; you assured that this was planned.

He paddled efficiently moving past the light current of the water to re-enter the willow’s cove. The moon was far from full instead the light was that of a small crescent. Letting firefly light bring dramatic shadows to his otherwise bright face. His darkened eyes remained on you, for the most part, harvesting an intensity unfamiliar to you. It kept you quiet for the most part, waiting until he spoke.

“My Father died, prematurely too.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“It was a human ship, you know. What you’d call Pie-rats?”

“Pirates.”

“Right. Well, they were the ones who killed him. He was…supposed to live longer.”

He was looking into the murky waters below, unglowing, and seemingly blacker than the night sky. The look was distant and foreboding, a widened terror to them that reminded you of a fear you would have felt during the news of a lost-at-sea Erica. You spoke if only to bring him back but it didn’t seem to sway him.

“Arrel.”

“But it's not like all humans are bad…heck I’m sure I’d be just as bad if nature hated me the same way!”

“E-excuse me?”

“Don’t you know that (Y/n)?”

He looked to you this time. Turning away from the edge of the boat directly to you, face distorted in a way you couldn’t behold. The darkness of nature made it worse only giving you a glimpse of the grieved madness swirling in his eyes—the blueness exchanged for a black substitute unmoving from you as he spoke.

“I’m sure humans were supposed to live as long as us mermaids, you know? B-but if you look at Erica and anyone else in that town’s graveyard it's obvious that's just the same case for you!”

“Arrel!”

Something about how he said her name, rubbed you the wrong way. Eager to stop, what had to be a mental breakdown, you leaned forward gripping the collar of his shirt. Pulling him close to your face as you tried to search his eyes.

“Arel stop it! D-don’t try to compare our lifespans to yours…this is just what you sign up for when you decide to love a human…”

You released him in order to nurse the burning in your eyes. Sinking back into your seat you used your sleeves, scolding yourself in the darkness. Fleeting lights of the fireflies hardly let you see your own sleeves, as you sniveled. So focused on yourself it didn’t matter at the time that he smiled into his hand before giving a muffled dry laugh.

“I guess you’re right… it's my fault for falling in love with a human right? Heh, heh then if Its all my fault I should fix it right?”

“W-what?!”

“Right (Y/n)?! I’m going to fix it! You’ll let me won’t you!?”

“W-wait?! W-what!?”

He moved fast, stabilizing himself on the sides of the boat. Moving closer to you until you could feel the boat shake with its weight. Letting his knee stabilize himself in between your legs as he leaned in close. Nose and breath fanning against you’re own it scared you even more that you couldn’t see his face.

“I know where the sea wizard’s lair is and he has loads of knick-knacks for keeping humans alive.”

“H-hold on–?”

“I could even turn you into a mermaid! Per-man–ent-ly!”

“Ar-”

“Or-? I could turn everyone into a mermaid then you’d have to live longer right?”

“Arrel!”

You tried to push him away stopping when the boat shook too much, making you tuck your arms against your person as he moved his hands to your seat. He tucked his head against your head, nuzzling into you as he wrapped his arms around you. Practically uncaring of the instability of the boat.

“You’ll pick me.”

He let his lips graze along your ear. Shuddering you fruitlessly attempted to move, failing.

“What?!”

“To marry. You’re going to marry me. I’ll be keeping you alive one way or another.”

“Arrel, you can’t–”

“I will and if that means making you like me that’s fine….Otherwise, I’ll just do it to everyone too! Then you can live forever like me!”

#yandere genderbent #yandere genderbend #yandere genderbent ariel #yandere genderbend disney #yandere genderbent disney #yandere merman #yandere disney genderbend #yandere disney #yandere disney genderbent #yandere x reader #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere disney x reader #yandere genderbend little mermaid #yandere x you

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the-travelling-witch · 1 year

Text

𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

summary: kissing your friend aka your crush

pairings: riddle :: jamil :: vil :: idia x gn! reader

warnings: none! just fluff ♡

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Sunlight was falling through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Heartslabyul Lounge and reflecting in your tea cup as you stared at the paper in front of you. Tapping the pencil against your chin you read through the assignment again only to lean back against your seat and sigh.

“Prefect, is there anything I can help you with? Please, do not hesitate to ask me if anything is unclear.” Riddle’s voice rang through the quiet room, the scraping of his pencil momentarily stopping as he looked up at you. “I’m sure it must be hard having to study an entirely new curriculum, especially when you can’t draw on any practical experiences with magic. As a housewarden it is naturally my duty to help my peers in their education.”

You were sure Riddle’s offer to help went beyond just his housewarden duties, having become pretty close friends with you after the overblot incident in your first month. Since then, he had gradually warmed up to you, inviting you over for unbirthday parties, study sessions or a stroll through the rose labyrinth.

So, quite inevitably, you slowly felt your feelings for your friend change. What used to be gratitude for getting the Adeuce combo off your back or joy at having someone to eat lunch with shifted into excitement at seeing him again or disappointment when you thought you had caught sight of him in a crowd, just for it to be someone else. Once you realised the situation you were in, it became even harder to hide those feelings, especially when you could feel the heat crawling up your neck when the housewarden reached over to fix your tie or straighten your uniform.

“Thank you, Riddle. There actually is something I don’t understand,” you sheepishly scratched the back of your head. Sliding over your Applied Magic homework, you pointed out the question you were struggling with. “Why is it dangerous to use a spell like this in that situation?”

“Ah, I see.” Taking a moment to reflect on how to explain it best, Riddle’s steel grey eyes flitted to the roses outside for a moment. “Try visualising the question’s context and the effect of the spell you're casting before your mind’s eye. What kind of environment are you in and how would the magic affect it?”

“Hmm, the energy released from the spell could… shake the unstable structure of the walls and ceiling and cause it to collapse? And even if it doesn’t collapse, the falling debris could still cause major injuries?”

“Yes, that’s correct. A lot of offensive magic packs more energy than defensive magic and therefore has a greater impact on the environment rather than the caster themselves,” Riddle explained further. “Now, consider all previously used magic. In this example, a few spells have already been cast, like this shielding spell for example. How straining are they on the caster and how long do they linger in the area?”

“Uh, let's see… The elements of previous spells might react with that of the current one, causing unpredictable side-effects. And in a stressful situation like this casting an unstable spell could put more pressure on the magic user, leading to… faster blot accumulation?” The last part was a total stab in the dark and you nervously watched Riddle’s unreadable expression before he gave you a satisfied smile.

“Correct again, Prefect. It is very impressive that you have such a nuanced understanding of Applied Magic, despite not being able to use it yourself.” The gleam in his eyes was genuine before he let out a defeated sigh. “If only some of the Heartslabyul first years would give magic a second thought before leaping into action…”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, having a pretty good image of just who he was referring to. Now, with your work out of the way, you could finally let your thoughts drift. And almost immediately they went to the housewarden sitting next to you.

Looking at him, it was almost as if time stood still. In the afternoon sun, his hair was positively glowing and his grey eyes seemed even brighter than usual. As always, his posture was perfect and poised and there was such an elegance in the way he carried himself. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was actual royalty.

When he put the tea cup to his lips and took a sip you suddenly remembered the videos you had seen back in your world where people kissed their best friend to see their reaction or to confess. Riddle probably wouldn’t approve but when he turned to you, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his lips. You’d bet on the fact that they were soft with the taste of tea…

“-fect! Prefect! Are you alright? I’ve been calling your name multiple times now.” Blinking back into reality, you came face to face with a concerned Riddle who was leaning over. Putting the back of his fingers against your forehead, his brows creased even more. “I wanted to ask if you want to try the strawberry tarts Trey baked but you’re burning up. Perhaps you should go and rest up. The rules might not state it but you can even stay at Heartslabyul if Ramshackle’s too–”

Before the thought process registered in your brain, you had already pulled Riddle closer by his collar and connected your lips. You were right. As with every aspect of his life, his lips were properly cared for and pillowy soft and after you parted, you thought you could make out a hint of sweets and lemon.

With a shocked yelp of your name, Riddle snapped you back to the present once more. Under different circumstances, the sight of the usually put-together housewarden staring at you with saucer-wide eyes and his face decorated with a rose-red hue might have been endearing but, right now, it chilled you to the bone.

Jumping up from your seat and noisily scraping the chair over the floor, you hurriedly stuffed all your belongings in your backpack, ready to book the hell out of there. “I’m sorry, Riddle, I really have to go water the cat and feed the plants–”

“Prefect please wait.” A hand gently wrapped around your wrist and made you turn around. The short-tempered housewarden wasn’t yelling (yet), which you took as a good sign. In fact, he wasn’t meeting your eyes at all. “I have to admit that was quite the surprise. But… not an unpleasant one. Prefect, if I may be so bold, do you have feelings for me?”

“Well, I don’t kiss just anybody I meet,” you awkwardly chuckled but you quickly abandoned the idea of joking yourself out of this situation at Riddle’s unimpressed reaction. With a sigh, you conceded. “Yeah, I do have feelings for you. Look, I am really sorry, I don’t know what–”

“I’m not,” he quickly interrupted. “I’m not sorry this happened. I, too, like you. More than a friend, that is. I might not have the most experience in this field but I’m willing to try if it’s with you. However, I do believe there is a proper protocol to be followed.

“Prefect, before you spring another surprise kiss on me, may I take you out on a date first?”

JAMIL VIPER

The sound of boiling water and knives moving over a chopping board filled NRC’s kitchen. At this time of day -or should you say night?- nobody but Jamil usually came here. Most students were probably already heading to bed or cramming in a late-night study session right about now but the vice housewarden of Scarabia was still diligently meal prepping for the following day.

“Could you pass me the turmeric please?” He didn’t even look up to see if you had heard him, eyes still trained on his task at hand.

“Sure, here you go.” Sliding over the spice, you took another moment to study his side profile. As always, there wasn’t much of an emotion readable on his face but you noticed how his shoulders seemed less tense than during the day. Or maybe it was just your imagination.

After he hummed a ‘thanks’, both of you went back to working in silence. You really appreciated Jamil trusting you enough to let you lend a hand, knowing just how strict he was about being the only one to prepare Kalim’s food. The first time you asked to help, in fact, he had watched you like a hawk and your hands had never shaken more.

At first, Jamil had been a little annoyed, thinking he’d have to look after someone else instead, but as you swung by more often, he started to appreciate the company. Not only did you not cause any trouble for him but you also stuck by him even after his overblot, whereas the rest of his dorm gave him a wide berth. So he allowed you to stay and if he ever ‘accidentally’ made too much food he let you take the leftovers.

And you, too, started to enjoy his presence more and more. You didn’t necessarily need to do something together, just being in the same space while working was enough to put you at ease. That was when you realised your actual feelings for Jamil but you didn’t know what to do with them.

Besides fear of rejection, you were also well aware of his position as Kalim’s retainer. Acting out on your feelings could cause a lot of problems for him even if he were to reciprocate them. Could he even accept them?

Before you knew it, your thoughts had distracted you enough to where your knife was merely hovering over the poor vegetable in front of you. As you were about to shake your distractions away, two warm hands already took the knife and board from you.

“You shouldn’t handle sharp objects when you’re not feeling well,” Jamil sighed but you could tell he wasn’t upset with you, rather, he was concerned. “You could seriously injure yourself.”

“I’m feeling fine actually,” you said. It wasn’t like you were physically unwell.

“Are you now? I couldn't help but notice you spacing out a lot more often lately.” Quickly throwing everything into the pot, Jamil leant against the counter with his arms crossed, giving you an earnest once-over. He was quiet for a while before mumbling “It’s okay to ask for help you know. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Mr. Workaholic,” you snorted. “Between the two of us, the one in need of a break is not me. Anyhow, it’s nothing, so don’t worry about me.”

“So there is something after all,” Jamil cocked his head to the side with a raised brow.

“Great Seven, if you must know. Yes there is something that’s been weighing on my mind,” you groaned. “Are you happy now?”

“I’d be happier if you also told me how I can help you.”

“And if I told you you can’t?”

“Then I wouldn’t believe you.” This guy…

“Agree to disagree, then,” you deadpanned. Turning your back to hide your burning cheeks, you pretended to wipe your hands. This once, you had wished Jamil’s sharp senses would fail him but of course not.

The irony of this situation wasn’t lost on you.

As you had your back turned, you hadn’t noticed Jamil stepping closer, so you nearly collided with him as you went to face him again. Quickly, he steadied you by your shoulders, his touch lingering perhaps a little longer than necessary.

“Prefect, let me be perfectly honest with you, I’m worried about you. You’re not normally this distracted or careless.” And whose fault was that?

“You know it’s hard to keep saying no to you like that. But I really don’t think you’d want to know,” you sighed.

Aside from the bubbling pot, the kitchen was quiet as you leaned against the countertop and examined your fingers. For a moment, nothing but you two in this moment seemed to exist. Jamil wasn’t bound to the Asim family and your future wasn’t so uncertain. If only it matched reality.

“Try me.” Jamil’s voice was a lot gentler now. You thought you saw his hand hover over yours for but a second, then chalked it up to wishful thinking. “You’ve shown me that it’s okay to be my own person and that it’s possible for me to have my own dreams despite my status; I’m very grateful for that. I also really like… spending time with you, so please tell me what’s wrong.”

Heaving a deep exhale, you braved yourself for whatever was bound to happen next. Maybe you were about to lose a friend.

“I don’t know if it’s wrong but… I like you, Jamil.”

As you looked up you caught a glimpse of surprise on his features before it was replaced by his usual poker face. “I’d hope so, seeing as you’ve referred to me as your friend.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know that.” If you took the leap you might as well see it through to the end. Leaning in, you placed a quick kiss against his cheek before turning and marching straight towards the door, leaving Jamil alone in the kitchen. “I like you like that.”

Luckily, the next day was a Saturday, so you could stay in bed and pull the covers over your head. Ignoring the yelling cat in your house and the absolute flood of text notifications from what you assumed was the first year group chat might as well have been your signature spell.

Eventually, you did crawl out from under the sheets and got dressed, even if it was just because the growling of your stomach became too annoying to ignore. As you were rummaging your fridge for something edible that wasn’t tuna, the doorbell rang which was suspicious enough. Nobody ever rang the doorbell.

As you approached the door, you could already make out Jamil’s neatly tied back hair. Steeling yourself, you slowly opened the door to find he hadn’t magically transformed into someone else.

“Jamil, what brings you over at this time of day?” Forcing as much normality as possible into your voice, you hoped that maybe he had just forgotten.

“I wanted to talk about what happened last night.” So much for that. “I sent you a few messages but you didn’t respond.”

“Nya! What’s that? Are you the reason my henchman has been hiding in bed all day?” You whipped around at hearing Grim speak, promptly grabbing him by the bow around his neck and throwing him out of the dorm.

“Go play with Ace and Deuce for the day.” Ushering Jamil inside, you threw the door closed before Grim could protest. “Don’t mind him.”

“I didn’t see you at breakfast,” he started as he handed you a container with some of the food you cooked yesterday. “I thought you might be hungry.”

As on cue, your stomach growled rather loudly. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Jamil, but you didn’t have to come all the way here just for that.”

“I also wanted to apologise,” he blurted out. Ah, so he came to reject you once and for all. “I didn’t give you a proper response. Well, to be fair, you didn’t give me the time to do it.”

You bashfully looked away, standing with your back towards him, at the memory of storming out of the kitchen. Your response came out a lot more seriously though. “Jamil, I’m sorry for saying something so selfish, I know that your work–”

You were cut off by being spun around suddenly until you were looking into Jamil’s sharp eyes. “No, I’m tired of my work getting in the way of what I want. You said it was selfish of you to tell me your feelings? Then let me be selfish as well and tell you I reciprocate them.”

There was such genuine certainty in those pools of grey, you couldn’t help but reach out and cup his cheek. One of his hands wrapped around your waist to pull you closer as the other found yours. Bringing it up to his lips, he held eye contact as he placed a tender kiss on your knuckles.

“For once, I’d like something entirely to myself.”

VIL SCHOENHEIT

“Hold still.” At Vil’s commanding tone you completely froze despite not moving much in the first place. “Good. Now close your eyes.”

You did as he said and tried your best not to flinch as the cool brush touched your eyelids. While Vil concentrated on perfecting your eye make-up, you did your best not to think too hard about his fingers currently holding your chin or how the scent of his perfume invaded your senses.

Despite being close friends with the Pomefiore Housewarden, it was still quite the task not to shrink away under his scrutinising gaze, even if it was directed at his own work rather than you. How did Epel endure this every day?

Well, the first year was most likely not head over heels for Vil and didn’t turn into a stuttering mess every time he talked to him. So much for your plan to play this crush cool and be as graceful and elegant about it as possible. Yeah, there was probably a reason you weren’t a Pomefiore student.

But then again, this was Vil you were talking about. The walking, talking, breathing definition of perfection. On top of that, he was smart and hard-working with the skills to back up his confidence. Naturally, he had people falling at his feet, no matter how intimidating he came across as. Not wanting to be seen as just another one of the masses, you decided to hide your feelings to the best of your abilities.

And so far, it seemed to be working. You were a regular visitor at Pomefiore dorm, so much so, the guards already let you pass the gates as if you actually belonged there. Seeing the actor achieve loftier goals over time, surpassing others and himself on numerous occasions, was fulfilling in its own way. There was a spark of pride every time he was chosen for a new lead role or when he had the chance to work on a new line of skin care. Yet, although you got to be close to Vil this way, it still kind of stung to know that this would be all there’d probably ever be between the two of you.

“My, I have to say, this is a job well done,” Vil concluded, giving you a content smirk. Turning your chair to face his pristine vanity. What could you say, he was right. Even though the make-up wasn’t all that elaborate or out there, you still almost didn’t recognise the person staring back from the mirror. “You clean up nicely, potato. I’ll permit you to stand by my side now.”

“You never fail to impress me, Vil. Just, how do you do it?” you chuckled, your eyes finding his in the reflection. “Normally, I would’ve called it magic, but I know better now.”

“Magic has nothing to do with this. It’s solely hard work and practice which makes perfect.” Spinning you back around, he came face to face with you again. “While you flatter me, I am far from finished. I will see this through ‘til the end and perfect this look.”

With that, Vil went back to work, prepping your lips to the point where you were convinced this would be the smoothest they’d ever be. Then, with a look of utmost concentration, he started tracing them with a lip liner before filling them out with lipstick and applying gloss after blotting it.

Despite being finished, the housewarden didn’t move away from you and you were suddenly keenly aware of the distance between you. Or the lack thereof, rather. Subconsciously, your gaze drifted to Vil’s mouth before snapping back up as you caught yourself. Your heart was racing so fast, you’d be surprised if he didn’t hear it. Was this how you died?

You knew you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but screw it. The few months here had already put you through so much, at one point you stopped thinking things through twice and just leapt into action. If you’d learnt anything in this school, then it was that you had to take what you wanted because nobody would just hand it to you.

So, against better judgement, you closed the gap between the two of you.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise but a simple kiss from Vil was overwhelming; it was entirely too much and then again not nearly enough. If you had to find just one word to describe it, it would be intoxicating. He might be the death of you but you couldn’t care less.

Even after such a short contact, pulling away wasn’t easy. Especially because you didn’t get far before a hand at the back of your neck held you in place. Your eyes flew open to see the challenge and amusement written in his lilac ones. Not that you minded per se.

In the end, you were positively stolen of your breath whereas Vil looked as dazzling as ever, except for the slight smudge of lipstick in the corner of his lips. In your opinion it only added to his charm though.

When you had sorted your thoughts again, your tone was slightly accusatory. “You did that on purpose.”

“Whatever do you mean?” His infuriatingly handsome smirk looked just a tad too smug for him to play coy. “May I remind you that you are the one who kissed me?”

“You weren’t even surprised!” You bristled at his act. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. I can read you like an open book, sweet potato. I just wanted to test if you’d be daring enough. Seems as though you’ve passed.” Reaching out a perfectly manicured hand, Vil wiped the stains under your bottom lip with his thumb while his gaze was trained on how your mouth parted at the movement.

“Hmm, it seems I need to do this again...”

IDIA SHROUD

Standing in front of Idia’s room, you firmly knocked on the door in a very specific rhythm to let him know it was you. Otherwise, there was a rather slim chance the housewarden would even open it. But luckily for you, you were one of the only people who were granted access to his abode.

After grumbling a greeting, Idia widened the crack of his door just enough for you to slip through. The two of you might be friends but that still didn’t mean he was suddenly a ray of sunshine, especially when it came to social interaction. As you adjusted to the artificial blue light, you were already prepared to be tackled by a certain blue-haired boy but the anticipated weight never came.

“Huh? Is Ortho not here today?” you wondered.

“Ah no, uh… Ortho’s out running errands,” Idia mumbled, shifting from one foot to the other. “You’re probably disappointed now, right? It’s like seeing your bias is not at a fanmeet…”

“No, not at all! I was just noticing it. You’re the reason I’m here after all.” Winking at him, you were already grinning at his reaction for what you were about to say. “I’m Idia-biased after all.”

And he didn’t fail you. Instantly, his eyes widened and you could practically see him blue screen behind his golden irises. Meanwhile, the ends of his long hair tinged pink as he tried to hide himself by tugging the drawstrings of his hoodie tighter. “HUH?! I- You- What– You can’t just drop SSR dialogue like that on me…”

“Why not? It’s the truth and you’re supposed to tell the truth, no?” You tilted your head to the side expectedly.

“What’s with you and your ability to turn a supposed buff into a massive debuff?” Idia shook his head miserably.

“Come on, I’m just teasing you. Although you are my fave, that part’s not a lie.” Nudging him back into the realm of the living as you pass, you plopped down on one of the gaming chairs in front of his PC. When had you asked him why he had two, he’d said that one was for Ortho, yet it was perfectly adjusted to your height. You just pretended he had fooled you though and didn’t comment on it further. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Uhm, that show we’ve been watching released a new episode today, so maybe we can catch up on that…” At your approval, he started setting everything up as you watched his fingers fly over the keyboard with such practised ease it amazed you every time. “You still remember the plot, right?”

“Of course, who do you take me for,” you playfully accused him. “The protagonist basically gets isekai’d to a mmorpg-like world and would die almost every two seconds if it weren’t for the cooler side characters.”

“Ya, cut him some slack. Everyone else grew up there while he’s a total noob.”

“Trust me, I know the feeling,” you deadpanned. “But even you have to admit his decisions are questionably stupid.”

Idia just looked at you as if you had grown a second head. “Is the outside perspective making you realise something or what?”

“HEY! I can go three minutes without being an orc’s breakfast.”

“Only because there’s no orcs on Sage’s Island,” he taunted with a grin, showing you his sharp teeth. In return you gasped in faux indignance before dissolving in a fit of giggles.

“Just imagine there’d be a show like this about NRC…” You tapped your finger against your chin. “I wonder what kind of tropes everyone would fall into. Like, Kalim and Jamil are your classic deredere and tsundere duo.”

“Riddle is the type of crazy skilled character you wouldn’t consider at first. But then he saves everyone by casting some seriously dangerous magic or something,” Idia sniggered.

“Meanwhile Malleus is the impossibly powerful, show-breaking character who is always conveniently absent when there’s a problem to be solved,” you sighed. Turning in your seat, you leaned your head against the back of the chair. “Say Idia, what kind of character am I?”

He tried to suppress his tiny squeak at the drop of your voice. To be honest, you had never been shy about showing your affection for the housewarden but you had come to the realisation he just wouldn't catch on, no matter how many hints you threw his way. Or rather, he’d convince himself you couldn’t possibly mean any of it.

“Y-You? Uh I guess, you always jump in to save the day no matter the risks, so you’d probably be some sort of knight in shining armour type. But with a serious case of ‘chosen one syndrome’,” he mumbled. “Seriously, only crazy people would play hard mode with those gimmicky stats of yours.”

“Aww, really?” you cooed before preparing yourself to strike. “What if I want to be the love interest though?”

By the look in Idia’s eyes it was a critical hit.

“Lo-Love interest? You can be both I think… I mean there’s a lot of people you’re close to…,” the poor guy stammered. Seriously, how could one person be so smart yet so dense at the same time? But fine. If you needed to spell it out for him, so be it.

Getting up, you slowly came to stand in front of his chair and propped your hands on the arm rests. You almost felt bad for him with how he was staring at you like a deer caught in headlights; Idia looked as if his life was flashing in front of his eyes. But you’ve had enough of your little cat and mouse game, it was time for the chase to come to an end.

“I was talking about your story. I want to be the love interest in your story, Idia. Hmm, how am I going to get that thought through your thick skull, I wonder…” You pretended to think about it for a moment before giving him a cheshire grin. “Ah, I think I have an idea.”

By now Idia’s hair was bright pink, matching the colour of his face, and he was radiating heat like a fireplace. As much as you wanted to see his reaction to a kiss on the lips, you were afraid it would actually kill him and you didn’t want this experience to end in giving him CPR.

So you settled for a sweet but lingering kiss to his forehead. Just as expected, his skin was warm to the touch and you felt him relax after the initial tense up. Maybe it were your own rose-red glasses but as you pulled away to cup his cheeks you could swear little hearts were flickering at the end of his hair. “Pardon the straightforwardness but I really needed to get my point across.”

“Wait, so you like me?!” Apparently his brain had kicked back into action at this point.

“I have for a while now,” you laughed, “but thanks for noticing.”

“So you were serious when you got me roses? And chocolate? And said I was your favourite?” The incredible tone of his voice was simultaneously endearing and heartbreaking. How could he not notice how amazing he actually was?

“I told you, it’s the truth,” you smiled. “So how about it? Can I be your love interest? Or is my affection already high enough to clear your route?”

“Woah you’re like straight out of an otome game,” he breathed. “Is this the super secret ending you have to play flawlessly for?”

“Oh come on, Idia,” you shot him another wink, paired with a teasing smirk, “You don’t really think this is the end, do you? If anything, it’s only the beginning."

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mermaidgirl30 · 3 months

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✨Crimson Tango: A Dance of Diamonds and Revenge Part 1: Welcome to the Moulin Rouge✨

A/N: SO excited for me and @mountainsandmayhem to bring you a Moulin Rouge Joel Miller series ❤️ We are both so excited to be writing this and hope you love it as much as we do! Hang on tight for the ride of your life between these two on their angsty, beautiful love story 🥰 Comments and reblogs mean the world to us! Chapters are in both reader’s and Joel’s POV. No explicit smut in first chapter.

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

Tags: Angst, unprotected p in v, oral, fingering, forbidden love, murder, fluff and smut, jealousy, moulin rouge au, soulmates being in love, protective Joel, no outbreak, reader is 20 and Joel is 29, tags will be updated each chapter

Summary: Joel Miller doesn’t know what awaits him as he takes on a maintenance job at the Moulin Rouge. He doesn’t know he’ll meet the absolute love of his life, the Sparkling Diamond, as his world comes crashing down around him fast. Will he be able to stay away when he’s warned not to touch the dancers? Will he listen or will he challenge that pull that draws him to the one thing that sets his soul on fire?

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Welcome to the Moulin Rouge

Your whole childhood centered around death, but you never thought about the possibility of yourself dying, never thought about how you’d like to go. As your vision blurs and the world begins to silence, you realise that this is the ultimate way to go. For her. Saving her is all that matters, saving the person you love the most in the entire world, even if you’ve never met her.

Sarah, please Joel. Name her Sarah.

At times, your childhood may have seemed sad or tragic to the outside eye, but to you it has been nothing short of amazing. You don’t remember the incident that took both your parents, you were too young, so young that you can’t even picture their faces. You were brought to stay with the only family you had left - your mom’s much older brother.

Your uncle Edward was a quiet and kind man, he was also the owner of Moulin Rouge. A bright and colorful dance hall, filled with sparkling costumes and lively music. For the longest time you weren’t allowed outside of the living quarters, but you remember laughter and cheering filtering through the thin walls. This place was magic to you in your childhood naivety.

You remember begging the dancers to teach you the steps to the songs you overheard in the night. Occasionally, one of them would show you a kick or a twirl that you’d practice alone in your room until the muscles in your legs were stretched and sore, no longer able to support your tiny frame.

During the day, a tutor came in for a few hours to teach you and the few other children that lived there, meals were brought to your living quarters by an older woman who rarely spoke to you. Uncle Edward was alway home for those meals, but often had stacks of papers to go through. Most of the time it was just you and the broken guitar and pottery wheel your uncle had given you. But overall you were alone, far away music and laughter to keep you company.

For your thirteenth birthday your uncle surprised you with dance lessons. He knew how much you wanted to learn, and could practically feel the energy buzzing off you every time your eyes darted to the performing dancers. So he gave in, gifting you with something that might bring you a little joy in the isolated burlesque. A silent way of telling you he was sorry for not being around much and leaving you to delve in your loneliness inside your vacant room.

“Well, little petal,” your uncle says as you blow out the singular candle sitting on top of the small cake to celebrate you turning sixteen. “I think you’re old enough now to come up and watch my diamonds perform. What do you say? Would you like to come see the show?”

You practically jumped from your seat, mouthful of chocolate cake, “Yes, Uncle! Please. Nothing could make me happier.”

“Tomorrow night I will bring you up to see it. Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.”

You’d seen the costumes and the women in their makeup before, you’ve even been out to the dance hall and on the stage. But that was only during the day, when the tables were only occupied by up-turned chairs, the overhead lights were off, and the band was nothing more than an empty pit in front of the stage.

The next night, your uncle brought you a new sparkly pink dress, and had the hair and make-up ladies get you all dolled up to watch. You looked at yourself in the mirror and had never felt more beautiful, seeing yourself as one of the famous diamonds of the Moulin Rouge. Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.

The show was like nothing you’d ever seen before. You didn’t know so many varieties of reds and blues and purples existed. The women kicked their legs in unison, men cheering and clapping as they swooshed their large billowing skirts. The music filled your ears with joy and wonder, the sounds crisper than they were through the walls. Laughter and happiness held you like a tight hug. Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.

As the show wound down, your Uncle leaned to you and said it was time to head to bed, “You’ve seen the show, little petal. Now the adults will indulge in wine and talk about things not for your ears.”

You didn’t argue, simply kissing your uncle on the cheek and saying, “Thank you, Uncle. I am going to practice harder so I can become a real diamond one day!”

You floated down the hallway. With your eyes still swarming with the bright colors of the show and your future dreams you hadn’t realised that you opened the door before the one to take you home, and this door led to something both sinister and unspeakable - it led to darkness. The room was only lit by candles sprawled across the wall, casting looming shadows of the acts happening before your very eyes.

You stood in the doorway taking in men and women completely naked, rubbing up against one another incessantly. Your tutor taught you that these areas of your body are not to be shared, they are only for you. Yet here they are, almost unashamed as they grind. The men all appear to be having a good time, but the women - they’re crying out.

Are they in pain? What are these men doing to them? Why are some men just watching? They should be helping. Your uncle, does he know that this is happening? Is this what his diamonds do?

Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.

You nervously approached your Uncle about it a few days later. “Oh, my sweet little petal. I’m sorry that you had to witness that. I promise you, none of those women were in pain. Not all my diamonds dance like that, and you never will. I meant it when I offered you a spot to dance, fully clothed and on the stage only. I only hope that you do not think less of me now that you know what goes on behind closed doors of the Moulin Rouge.”

Four Years Later

Joel stumbles into the doors of the Moulin Rouge after seeing the maintenance worker needed sign displayed in bold letters outside the burlesque. This was the last place he wanted to end up, the last place he’d be caught dead in; but he needed something, and anything was better than the minimal income of selling his woodwork. He couldn’t get by anymore by only getting one or two customers every couple of weeks, if he was lucky. It wasn’t enough to pay the rent of his small, cramped apartment. Wasn’t enough to feed himself day and night. He needed more, and this was his shot.

He pushes the heavy black doors open, quickly tucking his red flannel button-up into his pressed pants, needing to look his best if he wants to get this job. He has to get it, has to impress whoever is the owner of this club.

He finds the first person he can spot, quickly getting the attention of a bartender as he washes crystal glasses with a thin rag behind the sleek bar top.

“Sorry to bother you, but I saw the sign out front that said you need some help with maintenance around here?” he asks briskly as he stares at the bartender with eyes that say he’s desperate. His hands come to rest on the bar top and he fights the urge to nervously drum his fingers along it.

The bartender looks him over as he sets down a glass, nodding his head. “Oh, yes. Let me go grab the owner real quick. Be right back, wait here,” he says as he runs in the opposite direction, disappearing behind a long hallway. Joel nervously pushes back his outgrown curls, silently cursing to himself for buying that loaf of bread instead of getting a haircut. His big brown eyes dart curiously around the club, trying to take it all in.

It’s light outside as the sun glistens in through the drawn crimson curtains, some dancers sauntering on stage as they practice their moves, swaying their hips to a nonexistent beat. Joel averts his eyes and takes in the rest of the large room - it’s filled with tables that are meant for the men to smoke cigars and drink their alcohol as they drool over the women of the burlesque. All lust and no love, the way the burlesque was set up to be. Joel was never into this scene, never fit in with any of those types of men, but he was desperate, he needed work and this may very well be the only way he can get any.

A tall, thin man walks into the room with slicked back sandy hair and green eyes that are as sharp as a snake’s. He eyes Joel carefully, one hand resting in his pocket, the other stretching to shake Joel’s. Joel wastes no time and reaches a hand out, feeling a firm grasp as the owner shakes his hand.

“The name’s Edward. And you are?” he asks with a gentle smile.

“I’m Joel. Joel Miller,” he says with nerves running through his body, the back of his neck slick with sweat. He’s nervous he won’t get it, nervous he’ll leave empty handed with no job. He’ll fight for it though because he’s a fighter, and he doesn’t give up easily.

“So, I hear you’re interested in the maintenance job. You got any experience?” Edward asks as he leans against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest as he examines Joel again, taking in his flannel and tan pants, his worn work boots.

“Yes, sir. Got years of experience with fixin’ things. Anything from sinks to building homes. Even have a little woodworking shop on the side,” he says proudly as he tries not to fidget with the buttons on his flannel.

“Hmmm,” Edward hums as he looks him over again carefully, those bright green eyes staring at Joel’s clothes like he’s judging him. Joel swallows down that dry lump of self doubt creeping in. “You seem capable. How old are you? Think you can handle working at nights, too? Gets pretty rowdy around here when the moon comes up, but that’s when we need someone the most,” he presses, eyes shifting over him as his brow raises in question again, waiting for Joel to respond.

“Just about to turn thirty and ‘course. Nights don’t bother me one bit. I can even start today, if I can,” Joel says with a determined smile as he shoves his left hand deep into his pocket, praying he’ll get the job.

“I see. Well then, looks like you got yourself a new gig. See you tonight at let’s say 7:00 pm,” he says, reaching a hand out to Joel. For most men that would be a question, but Edward is a very rich and powerful man, he doesn’t ask for things, he demands them. Joel doesn’t hesitate for a second and puts his grip in Edward’s, shaking in agreement.

“Thank you, thank you! You don’t know how much I appreciate this,” he says with tears almost filling his eyes. A job, he finally has a job that’ll get him by just fine. No more nights of going hungry. He can finally breathe a second, if not more.

Before he turns to leave, Edward puts a hand on his shoulder and turns him back around carefully. “Oh, forgot to mention something. There’s only one condition I ask of you. Don’t touch my dancers. They’re strictly for the guests that pay,” he says with furrowed brows, his eyes burning into him, as if to see if Joel will flinch at all.

“That’ll be no problem on my part. Promise,” Joel confirms with a nod of his head, his tousled curls moving with the motion.

“Good, good…” Edward hums out. “Alright, Joel. I’ll see you tonight,” he says with a wave as he turns around and heads back behind crimson curtains, disappearing into a dark hallway.

Joel can’t help but smile as he heads out the doors of the Moulin Rouge, stepping into the warm sunshine as it bathes across his tanned skin. He takes a breath of fresh air as it smells of autumn leaves and new hope.

Things start to feel like they’re looking up, like something nirvanic was right on the cusp. What Joel doesn’t know is just what waits around that heavy crimson curtain for him. He doesn’t know the beautiful disaster he’s about to step into. A Sparkling Diamond that will take over his life forever. Someone so precious, so special, so indescribably unique. Someone so very - you.

Joel makes sure to get to the Moulin Rouge fifteen minutes early, wanting nothing more than to give off a good impression. The burlesque is filling up quickly as the sun fades away, the bright full moon taking its place in the sky, stars scattering around it.

When he walks inside the double doors, he sees that the dance hall is filling up quickly with men who smoke expensive cigars and drink bottles of whiskey that he can only dream of affording. He makes his way further into the entrance, his eyes taking in his surroundings, noticing that the large room looks nothing like earlier when it was closed.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings as red curtains drape across the crimson wallpaper. The dance floor is littered with burlesque dancers that lift their skirts high and tease the men as they surround them, hoping to entice the wealthiest one. Money is what they’re after and selling themselves is their only shot at making any extra tips for the night.

Joel clenches his jaw at the sight and turns his head, waiting at the front until he finally spots Edward in a black pressed suit. His blonde hair slicked back tight, looking around to make sure his guests are happy and taken care of. When he sees Joel, he walks toward him and puts a hand on his shoulder in greeting.

“Ahh, there you are. Come along now. I’ll show you around,” he says gladly.

After that, he shows Joel the burlesque. He takes him to the maintenance closet and gives him a key to access it - metal tools and large shelves cover the entirety of the inside. Next he takes him down long, dark corridors, past rooms that are locked shut. Just when Joel thinks he's seen it all, they head up to the second story. Sweeping down wooden laden hallways, passed the balcony that overlooks the large city, and through winding rooms that seem to have no end. He had no idea it was so large and spacious here; didn’t even realise people lived here. Joel starts to think more softly towards Edward, sure these women put themselves in vulnerable positions night after night, but they have safe housing and a sense of family and community back here.

Edward takes Joel back down toward the main ballroom where the entertainment is held every night. Just as he latches on to the spiral staircase, he sees a man dragging a dancer with barely anything on into a dark room at the end of the luminescent hallway with red carpet sprawled across the floor. He shoves her in as he starts working his hands up her body, and Joel can see the mass of bodies already in the room as he closes the door, concealing moans and lust on the other side of the tarnished doorway.

Joel gulps and looks back toward the ground, keeping his eyes off the pleasure room. He knows what goes on in these walls, knows what filth lies in every corner. The stench of money and sex encompass the room, he can almost taste it on the tip of his rough tongue. He finds it revolting, men using these women's bodies. No love to be seen in these walls. Only perversions and sexual desire. He turns away sharply and descends the stairs, almost running into the back of Edward.

“I believe one of the wooden tables over by the stage needs some maintenance. The legs are collapsing, think you can do something about that?” he asks with a raised brow as he points at a dark wooden table with the legs barely hanging on.

“Sure. Probably just needs some tightening up. Easy fix,” Joel nods.

“Excellent. I have guests to greet, so fix that and then come find me,” just as he turns on his heel, he stops and looks back at Joel. Green eyes narrowing, a finger pointing in Joel’s direction. “Remember,” he says with venom in his voice, “Do not touch my dancers. They’re only for paying customers, and you cannot afford them.”

Joel only nods, letting Edward know he understands. With that, Edward turns and heads for the main doors, greeting more men as they pack in like sardines. Joel sighs and heads for the maintenance closest, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that shoots through his gut at the backhanded warning Edward gave.

Don’t touch the dancers…you cannot afford them.

Even if Joel could afford it, he would never do what these men are doing. The soft, beautiful women of this place deserve to be treasured, not pawed at and used. He wasn’t a rabid dog. He could control himself unlike all the other men that crowded the Moulin Rouge.

He grabs up a metal wrench and shoves some nuts and bolts deep into his pocket. When he makes his way back to the table he starts to assess the damage. This would be much easier to fix in his well lit workshop, but there’s no carrying this table away from the stage and through the crowd of hungry men.

Now that he’s thrust in the middle of the wooden dance floor, he can see the burlesque dancers seeking out the richest looking men, sitting on their laps and letting them put their dirty paws all over their bodies. The men laugh, carrying on conversations as they fondle their breasts, leaning down to trail kisses up their necks. Some get up and lead the women down the long, dark corridor. Back to the pleasure room. Back to their impending doom.

The three men at the table next to him have one girl propped up in front of them, all of their hands grabbing different areas of her body, asking her if she wants all three of them; the men are easily twenty years older than the petite and innocent looking blonde in front of them. Joel feels for the dancers, but there isn’t anything he can do. It’s business. It’s all about the fucking money and pleasure. Pleasure sells, and this is what most men desire. Sex.

The room grows louder as men cheer from the crowded tables. Some swarming the end of the lit up stage to get a peek at the next performer. Some start chanting, yelling in demand for the next poor soul to dance across that stage, right into the pit of vipers that are ready to spit venom at whatever girl walks out next.

The cigar smoke lingers in the air as crystal glasses clink in cheers, alcohol spilling over on the tabletops. Joel knows that’ll leave a huge mess for him and the other staff to clean up after closing. He tightens the bolts under the table, winding the wrench as he tries to turn his focus away from the lust filled crowd. They’re just a bunch of sick fucks who get off on ripping away the innocence and dignity of women. Nothing more than their play things. Theirs to possess and own for a few hours. It’s cruel and vile, disgusting in itself.

Joel was never the type of guy to use a woman. He’d never dream of hurting anyone. He was thoughtful and charming, a man who minds his manners and works hard for everything he has.

He digs harder into the leg of the table, trying to mute the hooting and hollering that is getting louder by the second. The sounds of the men start to overlap until it’s muffled and pressing on his eardrums, running along the nerves that wire his brain. He concentrates on the task at hand, shutting out the noise as he tries to fix the table.

“The Sparkling Diamond!”

“She’s coming on stage now!”

“Look, look!”

The men nearest him yell to each other, babbling about the Sparkling Diamond as the lights turn crimson and dark around the room, crystal chandeliers send glistening reflections across the expensive tailored suits that fill the crowded room.

“Here she comes, boys!”

Just then, the lights go out completely and a spotlight shines on the wide stage. Crimson curtains splay over the sides, exposing the long walkway where dancers show off for the men. The crowd goes quiet, a few whistles shrouding the silence as a slow, sensual song covers the room. The men pound on the stage, yelling for the Sparkling Diamond to come out. Joel thinks she must be something special if she has the entire room practically panting with anticipation. The wild men crawl towards the stage, pushing each other to get to the front so they can get the best view. Joel doesn’t know anything about a Sparkling Diamond, but he’s intrigued. Just what were they getting all worked up about?

Before he can comprehend what's happening, he hears the click of heels travel across the stage. He rises slowly, seeing the pretty figure that dances under the bright spotlight, the men now screaming and throwing their hands out, begging to get a touch of the enchantress that graces their presence. When she’s fully in view he freezes, dropping the wrench to the floor as it crashes with a loud thud against the spotless wood. It suddenly feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. Joel braces himself against the table, the sight before him nearly knocking him back down to his knees.

It’s you.

The most beautiful girl he’s ever seen in his entire life. Long, soft curls cascade past your shoulders and bounce around with every move you make on the lit up stage. Your short pink dress barely grazes the curve of your thighs as your arms raise overhead and you spin slowly. As you bring your arms back down, your red painted fingernails caress your curls, then tease the jawline of your flawless face. Your cheeks flush from the attention before you gently bite the tip of your finger, red lipstick sitting matted to your delicate lips.

Joel thinks they look soft to the touch, delicate even. Your lips call to him, almost scream his name. Joel, Joel, Joel. And he wants to answer it. God, does he want to answer that call.

He watches the way you twirl, fluttering your eyelashes as you look down at the men, seducing them effortlessly. Performing is what you were meant to do. When you finally look at Joel he falls completely apart, all his threads coming untied in a heap, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

He stands there frozen, sinking his nails into the hardwood table as he sucks in a shaky breath, almost unable to fully take in the vision that stands mere inches before him. He can’t hear the carnal men anymore, can’t smell the cigar smoke that encases the air, can’t focus on anything that even remotely takes his attention from the beauty that lights up the room. He can only focus on you. He feels a pull from his chest, like an invisible string, forcing him to look at nothing else but you. The Sparkling Diamond that draws men to the Moulin Rouge, and the one thing he knows will get him fired.

Your eyes sparkle and shine like a rare gemstone, pulling Joel in like a siren’s forbidden song, a lull that drags him under the dark depths of the sea. The smile you wear doesn’t quite reach your eyes, a sadness there that he can’t quite place. The men claw and reach for you like starving pigs, acting like you’re just a piece of meat to pass around to all the others to get a quick taste of.

It makes him sick the way they objectify your body, only caring about what’s underneath the short shimmery dress you wear. Joel doesn’t stare at your curves, doesn’t get sucked into whatever fantasy the rest of the men are in. He just stares at your eyes. Beautiful, sparkling. He’d cross oceans just to have a chance to memorize each fleck and color that maps out those starry eyes. Like roadmaps to his soul, leading him home to the deep depths of those glistening irises. And that’s when something snaps, he can’t - no, he won’t let any of these men put one grimy finger on you. Whatever it takes he’ll do it. He makes a silent vow to keep you safe, protect you at all cost.

There’s only one condition, don’t touch the dancers.

Edward’s voice plays through Joel’s mind on repeat, warning him to not tempt fate. But fate had already been tempted when he saw you up on that stage. He’d quit, starve, be homeless on the street if it meant he could have a chance to be with you. He’d give it all just to be able to touch you, to know you, to have you. He’d leave it all for you. His sweet, Sparkling Diamond.

You spin and turn, kicking your feet up to show off your smooth, long legs that all the men drool over. You turn to the right, drifting your eyes in the direction of a man you’ve never seen before. You almost freeze as he stares right back at you, big beautiful brown eyes gazing into yours as he gawks at you reverently. But his eyes don’t travel down your body like the other men’s do. His eyes stay fixed on your face alone, staring up into the pits of your soul as you suck in a breath and try to focus on the beat of the song.

His long tousled curls drape over his forehead, almost falling into his brown doe eyes that seem to suck you in. He’s tall, broad shouldered with thick biceps that cling to his rolled up button-up flannel. Spidery veins cascade down his arms and end in massive hands that stay clenched by his sides. His tanned skin seems to glow as he stares at you with brown eyes that melt into your own like a candle stick, wax flowing down slowly, sticky and new. It’s captivating. He is captivating.

It's like you’re stuck in a haze, thick clouds that cover you and wrap their fog around so you can’t see, can’t hear anything anymore. You try to focus on the men that praise your body, try to avert your eyes from the handsome stranger, but that organ in your chest you force yourself to ignore is almost screaming at you to run to him. Two souls colliding into each other that were destined to meet. Just like twin flames.

Soulmates.

You blink once, twice, peeling your gaze away from him, turning the other direction, forcing yourself to stay bright eyed, hoping your smile doesn’t lower. You come face to face with a gentleman with a large top hat that screams your name and reaches his arms out, desperate to get just a single touch from you that he hopes will become more.

You turn back around and find that heated gaze again with the dark brown eyes, your own eyes going wide as they draw you to him. He looks a lot like your saving grace. Someone that wants to come in and sweep you off your feet.

Again, he just watches you silently, eyes searching yours as he seems to clock into your mind, reading your thoughts like a book from front to back. He won’t find anything there except a longing for something more. An escape. Happiness. And maybe he could be that for you. Maybe, just maybe he was destined to find you. You can feel it in your chest, that ache and pull that draws you to him.

Your uncle won’t like this. Not one bit…

Joel watches your entire routine, never once letting his eyes drop from you. He watches as you disappear into the crowd of men, narrowing his eyes when he sees the way they grab at you and beg to have a dance with the Sparkling Diamond. It makes him want to strangle every single one of them slowly.

Please, just one dance?

Sparkling Diamond! Care to have a drink with me?

How about a little fun in the red room?

You politely decline each offer and just smile as you pass the men by, trying your best to not meet the stranger with the pretty brown eyes’ gaze. He’s so handsome, so very easy on the eyes. You try your best to look at the men with money, knowing this is what you’re here for, to give them a show so they’ll pay to come back. Try as you might, that thin string snapped the second you saw his brown flecked honey eyes. You don’t want to do this anymore.

You turn where you stand and look back towards the stage. You search as men cram around you and over the top of an older man’s shoulder you can see him, clear as day, still staring at you with a trance-like expression on his face. You hold his gaze for a few seconds, curling your lips into a shy smile and you swear you see his pretty caramel eyes light up like fireflies in the night.

Just when you’re about to walk over to him, you feel your uncle pull you away in the opposite direction. “Come on, little petal, got some nice men that’d like to meet you.”

You follow him helplessly past some drawn crimson curtains, already over the drunk men that will press their chapped lips to your face and place their grimy hands all over you. You’re finished though, over all the fake smiles and laughter you are forced to sell these men night after night. When you look back over your shoulder you can’t see him anymore. No more pretty brown eyes that make you feel somehow safe. You don’t know him, his backstory, his name, or even his age, but you’ll find out. You have to, you just have to.

After finishing fixing the two broken tables and putting them back into order, Joel gets another visit from Edward as he saunters over with a big smile and a glass of scotch in his hand.

“Everything going alright?” Edward asks as he pulls on his black tie and straightens out his long tailed coat.

“Yes, sir. Finished fixin’ those tables for you. They should be good to go now,” Joel answers as he stands up straight with his hands deep in his pockets.

“Excellent!” Edward goes over to the wooden tables and knocks on the top, inspecting Joel’s work as he looks them over carefully. Once he’s satisfied he gives Joel a strong pat on the back and nods. “Did good work, boy. Think we’ll keep you around.”

Joel smiles at the compliment, thanking him for the opportunity. “Oh, there’s actually something else that needs to be done. You remember that room we passed on the second floor? The very back room by the balcony? The one that says Sparkling Diamond?”

Joel’s eyes go wide as he recalls passing a big red door with the letters spelled out in fake diamonds. That has to be your room. He should’ve noticed it sooner, maybe asked about it. But he didn’t know that room would belong to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He didn’t know it until now.

“Uh-yeah. What about it?” he asks cautiously, eyebrow slightly raised in anticipation of what Edward would say next.

“The sink in her kitchen is dripping and some of the lightbulbs are burnt out. There should be some in the supply closet. Think you can handle taking care of that now?”

He doesn’t hesitate a second. “Absolutely. I’ll get right on it,” Joel says urgently.

As he turns to leave, Edward calls his name. “Oh, Joel. Before you leave tonight, go ahead and have a beer. It’s on me.”

Joel doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been offered a free one before, always had to pay money that he didn’t have to get one. “Oh, thank you. I… I appreciate it.”

“You earned it, kid. I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Edward asks with his eyebrows knitted together and gaze heavy on Joel.

“I’ll be here,” he promises.

“Alright, take care now. I’ve got some business to attend to so see you tomorrow.” Edward turns and walks back into a sea of rich men.

Joel pushes his way past men in black suits and black ties, cigars hanging from their open mouths and drinks spilling over their glass cups as they talk about money, sex, stocks, and women. He tunes them out and keeps walking, ignoring the nasty stares he gets from not being in a suit himself.

As soon as he grabs the bag of lightbulbs and a few plumbing tools, he heads up the grand staircase with red carpet sprawled across each step. He makes his way up the stairs, down the narrow dark hallway and stops before he turns the corner. He stands just a few feet from the pleasure room. The red room as they call it here.

He can hear the moans and cries coming from the room, can smell the stench of sex that whisks through the air. He wonders if you go into that room night after night, letting the men with dirty claws sink their nails into you, feasting on you like blood sucking vampires.

His jaw clenches up as his nails sink into the meat of his palm, his face becoming hot with heat as he imagines you splayed out on an open bed while the men take and take from you until you have nothing left to give. Until you’re just a used up rag doll for them to toy with. He snarls and turns the corner sharply, putting those dark thoughts out of his mind. If he had his way he’d make damn sure you’d never set foot in that room again. He’d slaughter a whole fucking mass of men if he had to. No one should lay their filthy hands on you as far as he’s concerned.

He walks through the long corridor, passing door after door until he finally gets to yours. He takes a deep breath and turns the golden doorknob slowly entering the dimly lit room with pale pink wallpaper. He gently shuts the door and when he turns around he stops in his tracks, hand sliding off the doorknob as he sees you standing in the middle of the room. Naked.

Your skin is soft, probably as soft as the back of a rose petal. Your legs are long, smooth, and enticing. He wonders what it’d feel like to run his long fingers over your creamy thighs. You’re bent over, ass in the air, as you unbuckle the straps of the high heels you wore on stage. Your hips are curvy, shaping your round ass into mere perfection. Your full breasts peek out from the corner as your long waves spill over your shoulders. You’re absolutely perfect, stunning, a work of pure art.

Joel knows he’s fucked now. He knows. After seeing how beautiful you are, he can’t turn away. He shouldn’t be standing here gawking at you while you change, but he can’t move. He’s stuck like glue, an immovable object that can’t be pushed. He’s in trouble, so much trouble.

He loses his balance when you bend over again, exposing a different view of you that nearly takes him to his knees. The bag of bulbs falls to the ground with a large crash, and you turn with a quaint gasp as you take in the man that stands before you. It’s him, the man with the dark eyes.

Your eyes go wide, quickly reaching for a thin, sheer robe as you wrap it around you and cover the parts of you that are completely exposed. You breathe hard, your breath coming out rushed and fast. He does the same as he just stands there staring, no air left in his lungs as he stands in front of the beauty that takes his breath away. And then it’s silence, only rushed breaths and pining eyes.

The longer he stares into your captivating eyes, the more he knows he’s fucked. There was no way he was getting out of this now, no way to back down. He was going to make you his one way or another. You would be his. Period.

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frostedfaves · 10 months

Text

I Know Best

Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You decide to misbehave at the same time Wanda's home is threatened and she's pissed about it. (rewrite of WandaVision, episode 5)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mean mommy Wanda (but soft later), dom/sub dynamics, smut: punishment by overstimulation (and crying as a result), wanda uses her powers for evil 🤭, fingering

A/N: so not following the decades thing entirely because Wanda looks the same as she did in present day but she does change into her Scarlet Witch fit when she feels threatened 👀 anyway enjoy!

It wasn’t often that you went against Wanda’s rules.

You very well knew the consequences of doing so, and truthfully you’d gotten so used to her loving guidance and control of things that you wouldn’t dare go back. That control extended to how and when you touched yourself, which happened to be the very rule you’re breaking now.

You were watching a movie on Netflix that wasn’t in English, but you weren’t paying much attention to the subtitles anyway when the two women appeared on screen, hands all over each other. It reminded you of many passion filled nights with your love, and it was that reminder that caused your mind (and hands) to wander.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The voice comes from behind the couch where you currently have your fingers tucked in your underwear beneath a blanket. Without giving you a chance to answer, the blanket is lifted and your hand is ripped away from your body entirely with your wrist in Wanda’s unrelenting grip.

“I left you alone for an hour. If you need something, you ask me,” she practically growls in your ear, chuckling when she notices you’re shaking. “Oh darling, don’t get scared now. You know better and I know best.”

Before she can say anything else, you both hear what sounds like a plane coming in from outside, which instantly makes her stand up fully and rush to the door. She warns you to stay inside and magically locks the door behind herself as she exits. You rush to the peephole just in time to catch her taking down a drone, grabbing it from the ground and flying off toward the edge of town.

“Is this yours?” Wanda challenged as she tossed the drone toward Hayward, nearly taking him down in the process.

“The missile was just a precaution. You can hardly blame us, Wanda.”

“Oh I think I can,” she replies, a crimson color building in the center of her eyes. “This will be your only warning. Stay out of my home. You don’t bother me, and I don’t bother you.”

“I wish it could be that simple. You’ve taken an entire town hostage.”

Wanda decides to humor the agents by going back and forth with them despite being pissed beyond belief that she was interrupted, even allowing Monica to talk about being an ally before turning them all against each other and making her escape. Despite making her way back into town, her protective attire doesn’t change back to the comfy cleaning clothes she left in. It sticks to her like the anger from any kind of intrusion to her new home and your sudden disobedience all in the same minute.

“Wanda, what was that?” you immediately question when she opens the door, standing up and immediately feeling the urge to sit down again when you make eye contact. “Mommy?”

Wanda doesn’t answer you as she approaches but instead starts ripping your clothing from your body, waiting until you’re fully exposed to push you back down onto the couch. She forces your legs open as wide as they can go, not even smiling this time when she notices your shaking underneath her.

“You want to cum so bad that you couldn’t wait to ask? Fine. Let’s make you cum, slut.”

She delivers a loud slap to your exposed pussy that draws an embarrassed whimper from you, even more so when you realize just how turned on this encounter has made you despite everything. You know she’s well aware of this when she suddenly plunges two fingers inside of you quite easily, but you don’t expect the red mist surrounding her hand and the strong vibration that follows.

“What’s the matter?” Wanda questions with false sympathy as she watches you toss your head back against the couch. “Can’t take Mommy’s fingers suddenly?”

“I can t-take it,” you mumble between gasps and moans.

“Say that again?”

“I said–ah!”

You cry out again as she firmly places her free hand over your clit, more red mist and vibration now surrounding the entire area. You’re bucking your hips and clenching muscles, having barely enough time to even ask to cum this time before you reach your peak. You expect her to stop then, but she keeps everything going without letting up even as you try to squirm away from her.

“No, don’t fucking fight it now. You wanted this.”

She uses her elbows to force your legs back open as they threaten to box her in, and it seems that she only strengthens the vibration each time your body jerks away until you finally give up and take it all.

“Mommy please,” you beg however many orgasms later, coughing hard suddenly while tears continuously stream from the corner of your eyes and down past your ears.

“Had enough?” Wanda questions unnecessarily while subtly lowering the strength of the vibration, taking a bit of pity on you despite the way she enjoys your clenching walls around her fingers.

“Mm.”

“Use your words!” she threatens while bringing the vibration up and you let out a surprised squeak.

“Yes, Mommy! I’ve had enough!”

“Good girl.”

The vibration declines steadily as the red mist fades, but the aftershocks are very much present even as Wanda calmly pulls out of you. Her fingers slide into your mouth and you clean them with as little effort as possible, not even flinching when she pulls you further onto the damp spot underneath you on the couch.

“What will you do next time you want to touch?”

“Ask Mommy,” you reply drowsily, feeling pleased when she places a hand on either side of your jaw and kisses your forehead. “Thank you, Mommy.”

“You’re welcome, angel. Come on, you know what we have to do.”

Wanda rises to her feet first and attempts to bring you up with her, although it takes much more effort than either of you expected. Soft laughter is passed between you until you finally complete the task, and she leads you over to the downstairs bathroom before carefully lowering you onto the toilet. When you open your eyes again, she’s in front of you with a cup of water, gently coaxing you to drink.

Once you’re cleaned up, tucked into bed with your favorite sleep show playing quietly and passed out, Wanda makes her way back to the living room. She cleans up the couch and straightens a few more things before locking up her home and heading over to her closest neighbor.

“Hello again, Agnes,” Wanda greets her glassy-eyed companion with a knowing smile. “I’m going to need your help with something.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem! reader #frosty's smut #avengers smut #marvel smut

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moons-of-dewclan · 3 months

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I was curious how to get your clan really set off? I recently (LIKE EARLIER TODAY JFJSJFJ) started my own clangen blog but idk if it's worthy of Tumblr😭

How can I improve my art and improve my process? You're one of my BIGGEST inspirations ngl you're literally him (or her or they I'm so sorry I never caught your pronouns) but I was just curious on how to be better? If you wanna look, don't. It's like, rlly bad so.... save your eyes. Have a lovely nighttt <33

HELLOOOOO I'M NOT 100% SURE WHAT YOU MEAN BY SET OFF I'M SORRY :{ if you mean to get people reading it, i think it's vastly just luck also appealing to an audience by accident i posted my art online for 10 years (i started posting in 2010 as a wee ka- told you i'm an adult haahahueu) before anyone showed consistent interest and i valued those two or so commenters who occasionally had something to say about my stuff, so much LAKSNLKD. that entire decade i got between 2 and 30 favourites for every piece i posted- usually between 2 and 10- until around 2021 when a making a comic aANNND joining a wolf ARPG group exposed me to many kindred art-enjoyers that wanted to keep up with my goofy stories then for some reason, i posted Dewclan's first page on tumblr and it got way more engagement than any other piece of art i've ever posted SO LAKSDNLKDAS WE CANNOT PREDICT THESE THINGS.. at least i can't if you're looking for engagement, pLS AIM FOR ENGAGEMENT THAT FEELS MEANINGFUL over anything else IN MY OPINION, and it's just my opinion- part of being 'better' is, first and foremost, being able to enjoy your art alone. and then being excited with what you choose to share! even if you don't care about your quality of art, care about the story. if you don't care about the story, care about the process and just having fun. but you have to have fun in doing it, and do it for your own eyes primarily. like if you were alone in a room and creating only for yourself! because, until you happen to find others who like what you're liking, you are then when someone is interested and you get to share that excitement, even that ooone comment on something you care about is OOGHHH SUCH A NICE FEELIN. enter communities, comment on other artists' work, try to make friends! but make sure to remember, if you create with the hopes others will like it, without liking it yourself, you're going to be really broken down if someone doesn't like it FOR you :{ loving your own art is tough work but it's integral to your longterm relationship with drawing ON IMPROVING.. for me, nothing is more integral to improving than finding a way to practice that suits you (looking at live figures doesn't help me at all. i don't know why. it's insane), and having fun doing it. i can't grasp anatomy unless i break it down with shapes. SHAPES ARE EVERYTHING. study the shapes of what you want to draw. break em down by tracing simple shapes over your subject. see if the leg is the same length as the head from muzzle to neck and lock that info in. STUFF LIKE THAT on the technical side of things, it can be super helpful to dedicate half an hour or so to drawing a day- eventually it becomes a habit and you just default to 'oh i think i wanna draw' when you've got nothing else to do. more drawing, more improvement!

HONESTLY THO another important thing is not putting yourself down. i know it's a hard habit to break (i struggle with it outside of art myself!), but it doesn't do you any favours. the more you rag on yourself, the more it'll manifest as something that actually damages your art, AND your relationship with it. let it be fun- don't sabotage yourself! you can be critical of your work and still kind! little tip here, improving can take a while, but experimenting with styles can make an INSTANT shift in how you perceive your stuff. ALSOOO EXPERIMENT WITH DIFFERENT BRUSHES FOR SKETCHING AND LINING. I PROOMISE. PLS DO IT. IT'S LIKE A MAGIC TRICK. i cannNNNOT sketch with a hard brush. everything looks horrible. marker brush tho?? so smooth. full of character. lovely. binary brush sketches? suddenly i'm Anime. pencil brush?? i digidevolve back into baby ka who loved to crosshatch and do semi realism. airbrush??? i explode into atoms actually

i find for a lot of people, they don't need to improve or be 'better' at art, they need to learn to enjoy what they're capable of doing now, and improvement is a byproduct. from what i've seen through the years, unless you work to curb it the negative view of your art will stick with you no matter what 'skill level' you get to bc the calls' comin from inside the house, yknow what i mean 3: it can be a long process to learn to accept your art, and sometimes you just plain grow out of it over time! but in the meantime it can't hurt to make efforts to fight your d e m o n s

I'M SORRY I WROTE SO MUCH IK YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS ALL IT ISN'T JUST TO YOU, ODESSY-CLAN BLOG RUNNER, IT'S AIMED AT ANYONE WITH ARTSY SELF DOUBTS. i hope i phrased everything kindly bc i meant it all kindly 3: i hate to see an artist doubt their work, but THERE IS NO SHAME IN IT. i want to encourage loving it regardless of any flaws tho, even though it takes time!

#kasks

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pxgeturner · 8 months

Text

keep you safe. keep you mine.

ghostface!miguel o'hara x reader. prologue.

you're a junior in college and you have a totally awesome boyfriend in the master's program. a girl from your school is murdered and your boyfriend is there to make sure you feel safe (college/uni!au as if its not obvious)

an. I've had this idea in my head for like a month. executive dysfunction is a little bitch so i've onlyy been able to sit down n write this today. I wrote part of it a work but most of it within the last hour. (it’s currently a bit past midnight on the first of october) which if u have been here for a while, know that’s v surprising for me. i really wanted this to be posted on the first of the month but what can u do. i’m just gonna queue it atp. this isn't very action packed bcz it's just a prologue. but im soooo excited. also, r is latina coded but can be read from any ethnic standpoint. also this has not been proofread.

warnings: r has a panic attack, mentions of death (slightly graphic description of a dead body)

wc. 1.2k

you can’t change the channel. you don’t know why. but you can’t. a girl from your university was killed just about an hour ago. you were going to turn on the run of practical magic that started about half an hour ago. you just keep watching the news-lady rehash the same information over and over again. the killer all but turned the poor girl inside out. she’s in your finance class. you worked on a group assignment with her. she’s one of those girls who tries to maintain the hierarchy of high school in college. which is total bullshit, you’re third years for crying out loud! she’s passive aggressive, sure, but she should’ve had so much more time to grow. so you’re sitting there. bundled in blankets, not able to press the button on the remote.

PING!

something hits the sliding glass door to the back porch. you don’t want to become chopped liver. so you stay in your seat. a few minutes pass, you think, and no more noise, so you turn back to the tv.

thud thud. you ignore it, keeping my eyes on the screen.

then my cell starts to ring. you jump in your seat, and search for it, lost in the blankets. It’s miguel. you pick up the call.

“hey mickey, you scared me.”

“sorry, baby. mind opening the door? It’s a little fresh out here?”

“the slide door?”

“yeah,”

you untangle myself from the blankets and approach the glass. you turn on the outside light, and it’s him. you unlock the door and let him in. he kisses your cheek as he comes in. “hey, angel,”

“hey yourself,”

“where are your parents?” you shut the door

“concert, pop surprised mama with tickets to a merengue singer. gloria something.”

he nods and comes in to hug you. “how’s your night been angel? The news is on? why’s it still playing?” he strokes your hair “you know if you keep watching this fear mongering shit it’s gonna just make you anxious, baby.”

“yeah…” you melt into him, feeling safe with your big strong boyfriend here. “can you stay the night?”

“’course baby. anything for my sweet girl.” he leads you back to the couch, “what do you want to watch?”

“practical magic, but it’s already running.”

“don’t you have the dvd?”

“OMG YES” you jump out of your seat and dash over to the tv stand, opening the dvd stash drawer. “HERE IT IS” you wave it around in triumph before inserting it into the player.

once you’re back on the couch your boyfriend goes “if you have it on dvd why would you watch it on cable?”

you pout at him “it felt special. like they were playing it just for me. it was the perfect time.”

he shakes his head and chuckles, “you’re just too cute, baby.”

…

“she talked shit about you, y’know.” gwen says after she tossed a penny into the fountain.

“what?” the two of you start walking to the dining hall

“that girl, ava whatever? she was in my drawing class after your finance class with her. she like, thought you were obsessed with her.”

you stop in your tracks. “wait. what the fuck?”

she steps back and turns to face you. “yeah. i didn’t tell you because i figured if she never said anything to your face it wouldn’t be a big issue.”

“ok…” this is confusing “a: what did she say and b: why are you telling me this?”

“she said you’d stare at her. and that you look like you look like a… what did she say?… ‘a brainless mutt’ and other shit. she only said shit like that a couple times. and i ripped her a new one both times.” she gestures for you to keep walking. you realize today they probably have pizza and she wants to get there before they run out. “i’m telling you this so you don’t feel too bad. she wasn’t some innocent soul, she was a bitch. you’re so nice. but i don’t want you wasting your emotions on her.”

you think about all this information as you two walk. you never really liked ava. she totally thought of herself as a queen bee, and that’s so icky. the class you had together is tiered with semi-circular layout. you sat at one end, and she did at the other. when you space out, you guess it might seem like staring, but, like. what the hell?

and then you see miguel. he’s in a booth with peter, mj, and miles. you and gwen go up to the table.

“hey, angel”

“hi mickey,”

“they have soup, got some for you. cranberry juice too.” your favorite food and your favorite juice? he’s heaven.

you smile so big it almost hurts.

“did you get me food?” gwen asks miles

“i- uh, didn’t know what you wanted,” gwen glares at him– it’s a joke but when you’re on the other end it doesn’t feel like it. “-but there’s plenty of pizza left! i haven’t gotten food yet. i wanted to wait for you.” gwen smiles and offers him her hand. the two of them leave and you slide into the booth, next to miguel.

“how was break?” peter asks.

“it was good! love being with my family as usual.”

“and miguel, i’m sure,” mj winks playfully.

“i was at my parents house!”

“and miguel went over every time you offered.” peter says before taking a sip of his coffee.

“he’s so in love with you. it’s an obsession.” mj jokes.

miguel drapes his arm round your shoulder exaggeratedly. “gotta keep my girl safe, there’s some freaks who’d want to hurt her.” you elbow him lightly to tell him to stop joking like that.

somewhere along the line after gwen and miles get back, the subject changes to them trying to convince you and gwen to go to graduate school.

“you’re so smart! You could study classical literature! or ethical studies! or ethnic studies! genders studies.”

“oh my god parker please stop throwing studies in my face. i’m so happy y’all are having a good time in the master’s program. and i’m so glad that miles is planning to go do that kind of path too,” you lean back, head supported by miguel’s arm. “i just have no desire to be a career academic. by the time i graduate i’ll have spent seventeen years of my life on education. After i get that diploma i just want to write.”

“and that’s exactly what you’re gonna do, doll.”

a few days later, and the weekend has arrived. you’re in miguel’s room, a tim burton film playing as you two cuddle.

the movie gets drowned out by the sound of an alarm, coming from your phones. it’s an emergency alert from the police. someone else has been found dead. someone from your school. your breath turns shallow and a lump forms in your throat. you’re crying. you can’t breathe. everything is blurry. your chest feels heavy. miguel holds you, whispering in your ear reassurances. he’d never let anyone touch you. you’re safe. nothing bad is ever going to happen to you. he’s here to protect you.

thank god you have miguel to protect you from everything evil outside.

#my writing #miguel my love #scream #ghostface!miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara #ghostface!miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x you #atsv #accross the spiderverse #atsv miguel #atsv x reader

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shinjisdone · 4 months

Text

Two Humans in the Demon Realm - Fantasy And Nightmare

What if by the time Luz Noceda the human emerged into the demon realm...some other human did, too? However, instead of being joyful of being surrounded by all they love and taken in by a kind and openhearted witch...they are terrified of this place, taken in by the ruler of the realm?

[Basically I watched TOH again and dammit HUNTER SHALL HAVE A FRIEND I SAY NOT UNTIL S2 but NOW I SAY NOW]

BECOMING THE GOLDEN GUARD'S/HUNTER'S HUMAN FRIEND BECAUSE I SAID SO

Part 2 of this

Things seemed to become okayish.

The visits were more frequent and the Golden Guard would come in with different, hopefully tastier dishes to you. "Your little drawings of human food aren't the best, you know." He said as he returned with a plate of hot...moving...algae? When all you drew for him was bacon.

They don't even have bread here *crying*.

Alongside the questionable food he also brought writing utensils, something akin to a magical board and the like. You were unsure and so let him use the majority when teaching him about glyphs.

The Golden Guard would nod and hum before grabbing everything under his arm and excusing himself off until the next time he visits you. At times he seemed to be in a good mood so you assumed he made progress - yet he mostly returned tired and grumpy so you did not try your luck to ask how much progress he was doing and how much of it was actually successful.

You did not even know what he's doing with the knowledge or why he needs it.

Still...being kept in a room out of everyone's sight can be boring...and overwhelming.

You've asked your guard a couple of times if there isn't any other new places to be. Just for fresh air. Or to feel the sunlight directly and not through the window you weren't even allowed to touch.

However, one day after requesting it a couple of times, the Golden Guard halted with you almost bumping into him, spun around and agreed.

Under one condition: You'd go outside of the castle's barriers and into the wild to practice wild magic.

Learning about it by theory was no problem but the Guard couldnt risk practicing any of it on Belos' territory. The punishment would be too severe.

Besides...he won't ever tell you but he's scared of using it. Wild magic is dangerous.

Not that he wants to endanger your life but you have far more experiences with it, so he likes to believe that things will turn out fine if you practice them out. He can stay back with the theories on paper and you can actually cast them.

So clad once again with the humble scout uniform, you made your way - though you feel like you instant traveled or zapped - to an abandoned shore. The sea and cliffs would shield you from unwanted attention.

The Golden Guard is very much aware of what a risk he's taking - but it could lead to an solution, to healing.

He is still doing his job. Looking after you and making sure you don't kill yourself through careless spellcasting of wild magic. Thats what he tells himself at least.

The hours pass by and the two of you were engrossed in the many glyphs and the possibilities they offer. You so effortlessly draw them into the sand, it leaves him a bit impressed.

You finish drawing each glyph that you know. "I'm sure there are many more but the majority are like...basic ones from nature, you know? Light, fire, plants...they seem like any other magic spell of your Emperor's Coven, I don't know what else they could do."

He trotted over with his staff, inspecting the glyphs further. "They can be. I've read about it." He passed you by, letting the end of his staff draw along the sand and connecting your drawings with his own lines. "Magic has layers even when the core is the same. Light is more than just able to see in the dark, it filters through the atmosphere we exist in and can cast shadows - thats already another path that light glyph opens up for you!" You noted how much lighter and higher his tone gets as he jogs around the shore, drawing more circles. "Back then before the Savage Times witches were able to create more spells with their imagination and willpower alone just through understanding each core-!"

His figure froze mid-drawing as his gaze met your quizzical one. Straightening his posture, he cleared his throat and intentionally spoke sternly. "I, uh, read that. It's history 101 here on the Boiling Isles, nothing...crazy. You wouldn't know that."

You can't help but crack a smile. "You sure know a lot about magic even if it can be scary. You must be a master by now, is that what it means to be the Golden Guard?" You smiled and meant it as a compliment but your companion just seemed to shrink, looking away from you. "Magic isn't scary, well, wild magic doesn't have to be. There's an immense, just...pool of unlimited possibilities, its what this entire isle is made of. Magic at the very beginning was just like this, wild, and kind of endless," Halting, he continued in a low tone, "...but it can get out of control, thats why its wild in the first place. If you're not careful, if you don't know what you are doing, people might get hurt and-"

He hit a rock when shifitng his weight. A part of the circle had been cut by his foot and he gazed down at the grande symbol you two created. It seemed like art but he knew it couldn't ever be.

Taking a deep breath he called out louder with his hand shooting out. "Thats why I am the Golden Guard, yes, I'll take care of this, of everything. So stay back, human-!"

One shift of his foot too much and he came in contact with a glyph. The lines glowed a bright green and before he knew it, the Guard let out a yelp as his staff went flying up to the cliffs, getting stuck in the rocks.

"No! No, no, no!" His hands clutched his head. You jogged over to him and offered the lightest of condolences. "We can get it back. Should be easy with, yeah, magic-" Your shoulders jumped up, retracting your finger that was playfully drawing circles in the air when your companion started clinging up the cliff, only to slide and fall down again and again. You called out to him in assurance but had to snap when he didnt stop even when his uniform got ripped.

"Hey, hey, you're gonna get hurt! Just wait a moment!"

"I can't! This staff was given to me by Belos!"

"Just focus and cast a spell to get it back!"

His sudden silence surprised you. The Golden Guard shrunk in himself and avoided your gaze. He stood still for a few more awkward minutes - until you took a deep and loud breath.

"...Can't you...cast a magic spell? Like something with the wind, maybe?"

Once again, he stayed quiet and you took your book in your hands before drawing a circle in the sand. "Here, I'll go get it. I'll stand right here and jump on the vine, you'll just have to activate the glyph for me." Once again, he looked away before you urged him more with a trying smile. "You can do it, Golden Guard."

Without another exchange you took your position. The Guard hesitated as he kneled down. "I..."

Gingerly he grazed the outline with one finger and a small sprout grew - before he snapped his hand back and it died instantly.

Looking up to you - and somehow you could tell that he asked you on the 'how'. "You just touch it," you smiled, "I need it to be big and strong...you said that witches used to do that with willpower and imagination, right? Maybe...we could try that." You could feel his gaze, could tell how his chest heaved but with a deep breath he slammed his hand onto the sand. At the contact the glyph glowed bright, a sprout emmitted and you were quick to jump on the growing vine.

In an blink of an eye, the staff was retreated and the guard slowly imagined the vine becoming smaller and reshaping into a flower - which it did the moment you landed on your feet.

"Here." You returned the weapon that you so awkwardly held, "...That thing seems more unstable than my glyphs - from holding it at least."

You tried to smile for him but he remained silent. Throwing sand over the drawn glyphs, the both of you returned to the castle without another word.

Back in the discreet room, you took off the mask of the scout uniform with a frown. "Hey...I won't question anything of that...instance if you don't want me to."

He snapped his head back at you before slowly letting it fall. All you got were mumbles under his breath.

With yet another awkward smile that you could muster, you pointed towards his scraped skin. "I found some bandages here the other day...we'd best patch that up before it gets infected...if that uh, happens around here." This time however, he shook his head. "I can take care of myself. I don't need...your help..."

Underneath his mask he scowled as his words trailed off. What a lie.

He's pathetic.

Still, you tried to urge him to let you tend to him with sticking plaster in hand. Begrudgingly he let you - a bit unsure still. Even the act of sitting on that bed - which is your bed now (has been for a while...he wonders how long you'll stay) - has him thrown off. The confident aura of the Golden Guard leaving him and letting him down.

You talk about what you still were able to learn today, how in your world, water is connected to healing or seen as healing - after all, magic was fiction in your realm that you saw in "movies"...whatever illusions those might be - so maybe magic including a water glyph might ease his pain (which no, that's not how it works. However...he does not interrupt you).

It makes him realizes he doesn't know much about your realm despite keeping you here so that Belos can learn more about it. But what he does realize that in your strange human way, you were trying to comfort him.

He thinks. He never has been comforted before, not like this. Belos never comforted him like this.

After all was patched up, he was quick to collect his staff and leave yet stopped before reaching the door. "...Thanks..." You heard him hesitate and could almost not believe what he was saying, "...for today. And...for the other time where you helped me...with your wild magic."

A smile graced your face and your eyes lit up in a way that the Golden Guard did not know what to think of it. "You're welcome." Quickly he avoided your gaze. "But don't go overboard. Wild magic is dangerous, you could get hurt. So don't do anything without my supervision."

His attempt at sounding stern didn't go unnoticed but as he left, you couldn't find it in yourself to take it personal.

Things have become...challenging. For him.

He stood there with food in his hand right in front of your door, the illusion spell gone for a moment. In his pocket were a few bandages.

He can return your used ones - then again they aren't yours, they belong to the Emperor as everything does here on the Boiling Isles. Well, you could still have some in stock in case you get hurt with wild magic - which isn't something HE can allow to happen as the Golden Guard!

He groans and just goes in.

In time you appreaciated his visits. The extra bandages weren't...neccessary but welcomed. The dishes he brought resembled your doodles more and were *gasp* actually tasty! You asked him if he spend time in the kitchen and he answers embarrassingly (but at least you cannot see the cuts on his hands).

The Golden Guard liked taking his time with wild magic lessons this time though. The outings aren't this far away anymore but each one was at a different place that you appreciated.

You were more open to tell him of your human world. Of quiet nights, of animals like wolves and how the rain is soothing and not boiling. How humans liked to go swim in the ocean as a pass time! (insanity to him).

You mentioned that he'd get it if he would see it...you hoped you'd be able to see it too.

It was interesting...if not fantastical in his mind.

Even with your frequent meetings with Belos who grew more and more impatient, he always stood by your side. Protecting you even with excuses when the emperor chose harsh words. Nevertheless, the man always tried to be a delight in your presence but you could never truly believe him. He did not make ultimatums or threatened or hurt you...did he pity you because you were human?

You always made sure to thank your guard in situations like these even when he had trouble accepting your gratitude or showing any of his own. You assumed he was never upset by it though.

However, when it came to him he was more than reserved. Any questions of his day, interests, well-being, age or even his name he never really answered. It felt all too compelling to just give up on asking him.

The day started off normal enough. What you learned was normal around here.

The Golden Guard announced that he'd go on a mission right before bidding goodbye after his visits. It will be on the airship...not known to Belos but he will be happy with that he'd bring back. No, you cannot come.

"It's top secret, so just between you and me. I won't be back after bringing in victory so don't try to leave this room - okay, byyyeeee!"

There he was again zapping away and leaving you to kill off your boredom all by yourself. It wasnt until the late evening when crashing and guards stomping by your room was heard. In a panic you rushed towards the wall to eavesdrop.

'Airship' and 'Golden Guard' was all you could hear out by a small, high-pitched voice...squealing over the possibility of his death and taking his place.

Your heart skipped a beat and your throat felt dry. Death? What did they mean with him dying? Taking his place? This - This has to be a joke!

But the demon realm taught you quick that nothing was a joke here. Many things could have taken your life and you were sure members of the Emperor's Coven would be more than willing to be the most dangerous things on the isles.

There was no time to think. Your heart was pounding so hard leaving you with a headache yet you did not stop when putting on the scout uniform nor did you falter when stealing from the Healing Coven's closet. It was terrifying but you did not think about it nor about the consequences that could follow if Belos found out. You could imagine that he wouldn't be pleased when the human got out of his castle.

You refused to think about it or else you might shake in your boots with no power to continue to help him.

Sneaking out you were met with rubble and it confirmed your suspicions. You didn't know how to really find him if other witches were already after him. Making sure you stayed out of anyone's sight, you tightly held onto the bag filled with healing potions. You stumbled through the dark and the debris, falling hard enough to lose your mask - but secured the bottles from shattering.

It's alright, you tell yourself and took a deep breath, you can still hide your ears with the cape.

Other scouts searched the area and suddenly you had a bad feeling about dressing as one yourself. Though beyond the orders shouted out, you heard a high voice not belonging to any of the Emperor's Coven and followed it. Without realizing whats in front of you, you collapsed with another person.

You shrieked but caught the bottles just in time. Whipping your head up, you came face to face with another witch - a boy your age with hair pale blonde, scars on his face and ear and heavy eyebags just under his ruby red eyes.

His jaw hung open with a tooth gap peeking from his lips. He looked at you as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

Before he could speak you interrupted him: "Have you seen the Golden Guard?!"

Jumping, he recoiled.

You only stared at him with white panic. "He was steering the airship that crashed here I heard! I, I've got to find him - Emperor's orders!" You hoped he'd take the bait - but only kept staring at you in shock.

In turn you shook your head with a scoff and passed by him yet still stopped and gazed at him over your shoulder. "...You look hurt," Your hand fished out a few potions, "I got these for him but you look like you could use them, too." Without another word you shoved a few potions into his arms and made a run deeper into the debris.

After your figure dissapeared, he still stood there. Beyond the smoke another person emerged through. "Who was that?" Her brown eyes looked worriedly over to him as she adjusted the cape around her round ears.

The blonde frowned before quickly packing the potions out of her sight. "No one. Let's go."

The moment he got back, he barged into your room.

It was long nighttime. You did not sleep, refused to rest your eyes as you skimmed around your book for some kind of glyph that lets you track people. Find their belongings, their status. Anything.

He should've expected it but it still startled him when you rushed over, yelling at him with panicked eyes on where he had been.

The Golden Guard told you the truth - part of it at least and sprinkled a bit of fantasy on it. How he was found and brought back to the castle.

"And what about 'taking your place'?! I saw members of the Coven trying to track you down and..." Your eyes softened, your face grim, "...they talked about getting rid of you."

He looked briefly away from your sullen gaze. "They weren't able to."

"So thats just, a thing that happens here? Scouts and generals wanting to get rid of others for their position?! Thats not normal! Thats something that happened in kingdoms and dynasties and..."

You halt and deflate. Your arms that were wildly gesturing just a moment ago slowly fell to your sides. "...empires."

The Golden Guard assured you while shaking his head. "Listen, I don't know what these are but! I'm fine! I'm fine. You don't have...to worry about someone like me."

"Your airship crashed, thats enough reason to worry - and after hearing the members of your own Coven want you dead, of course I'd come looking for you!"

You saw his shoulders jump. He tilted his head up in surprise and even though you couldn't see it, you were sure he was stunned. It only made you frown more.

"...Of course I'd look for you."

The way you looked at him was the final resolution he believed he needed. A sigh escaped and hit his mask as he avoided your gaze. "...Yeah, you did. You saved me. Thanks..." He saw you straightening your back as your head rose and your face grimaced with a puzzled expression. He bet you must be so confused, maybe hurt - of course you are, you just said it yourself. But still, he put the empty bottles into your hands.

"Human, I have to tell you something..." His voice shook as his hands went up to remove his mask. A gasp escaped you as the same bad but sad boy was looking at you. His blonde hair tussled and unruly as his red eyes seemed to beg you not to he angry. They were bandages on his face which somewhat eased your worries. He was hurt and roughed up but not as much as you feared.

"Why didn't you tell me that was you?" You approached him unsurely and he seemed to back away. He twiddled with his fingers and couldnt meet your eyes. "...No one was supposed to see me. I barely take off my mask anyway, only to Belos. And..." He scowled slightly, "I didn't know what to do. I didn't expect you, you weren't even supposed to be there!"

"I was worried they'd kill you! That was true what I heard, wasnt it? Or is that also a lie?" "I'm not lying to you!" He snapped back with a bit more bite in him, "Kikimora constantly tries to take my place! Thats why it was so weird to see you there with healing potions looking for me! And...I should thank you. I wanna thank you." As quick as his fierce glare came, it was gone again as the blonde shrunk meekly, begrudgingly admitting his fault in a soft voice. "...No one's done that for me before. Not even...Belos..."

You frown was filled with pity. "I figured as much." You softly let out and motioned towards your bed. With hesitancy, he sat down at the edge and you followed to do the same. Now sitting next to him, you hesitated yourself. "Is there anything more I should know?" "What do you want to know?" Looking back up, he saw you glaring slightly at him. "Your name for example. Or are you just known as the Golden Guard?"

"No!"

Your anger was nothing compared to the way he snapped.

But as fast as it came, he slowly shrunk again, turning away and fiddling with his hands.

His voice softened once again.

"...My name is Hunter."

You repeated his name and it left a shiver down his spine. Hearing you out of all people say it is weird, it is all so weird. No one adresses him by his name but you just did as if it were normal.

"Well...it's nice to meet you properly, Hunter." Again, you are acting weird, smiling at him ever so slightly and even if it was forced, it seemed genuine to him. That you'd even say something like that. You even repeated your name as if it really is the first time you two met.

He awkwardly shook your offering hand.

"It's...nice to meet you, too."

"But why are you telling me all this, Hunter?"

His red eyes flickered to the side before a more serious expression graced his face. He took a deep breath before staring into your eyes. "There's something you need to know." He began dryly, "When I was out there, running away from Kiki...I was with someone else. It...was another human, just like you."

Your eyes widened.

"If I'm right, she comes from the same place that you do. I believe she appeared later on the Boiling Isles than you did and she might have the means to return. She is not...a friend, but I can bring you to her."

"There is a way back home?!" Jumping up from the bed, you barely could believe your luck. But it still left you confused. "But...can you tell me even this? I-is that something I'm supposed to know? What about Belos?"

Hunter looked back up to you, his hands tightly gripping his knees. "You deserve to know. You...are the nicest, weirdest person I've ever met. And you want to go back home, to somewhere you belong..." Sadness briefly glimmered in his eyes and they glance back at you, "Human, I - no," Hunter corrected himself by saying your name, "I have to pay you back for all the...things you've done for me. Even if I am just a powerless witch...I want to help you get back to your realm."

You were speechless. Taking a step towards him, you opened your mouth but the next words that were heard were not yours but chirping.

On the window behind Hunter, was a red bird watching you two.

#the owl house hunter #the owl house #the owl house x reader #hunter the golden guard #toh hunter x reader #platonic #the golden guard x reader #BE HIS FRIEND FOREVER

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