#peacock harpy x human

[monsterfloofs]

🦚💐🎼!

Maestro (Harpy Peacock) x Anonymous Reader

(AKZZKSKXKSKSXKS-- I wanna know who sent this on my gosh! Who is responsible for this??? x//Dc

I-is that you peacock harpy anon?? Are you back to give me more peacock prompts?? What do I do with all these fowl?!? These foul fowl. . . (Joking!)

This made me laugh out loud when I saw this prompt in my que, I wanted to say something as soon as I saw it, but I was good and went in order instead of skipping ahead! :')c Here is Maestro, a classical composer, and a bit of a jerk! Can you get them to chill out? Methinks the answer is yes 👀 )

You shuffle into your seat, next to your fellow musicians that made up your instruments section, hurrying to get your own instrument ready so when the great cantankerous composer swanned onto the podium you wouldn’t have to be given the evil eye. You sat up and craned your neck, trying to see if you could spot them from where you sat. Before turning your head down and furiously fumbling through your folder of piece music. “They’re coming— quick!” A soft murmur of noise causes you to drop your papers. Swearing under your breath and leaning down to attempt to gather them.

Your gaze meets a shiny pair of dark talons standing in front of you, and your heart sinks. Slowly looking up into a fierce face with bright blue-green feathers surrounding high cheekbones, a sharp nose and arched eyebrows. Their lips a fine pursed line, before they stoop and help you reclaim your papers, thrusting the ones you needed under your nose before stalking away. You wilt in your seat, a minotaur who sat beside you pat your shoulder with a gentle sympathy. A sharp impatient tapping on the podium that has everyone quickly ready their instruments to begin.

You had thought joining a band again had sounded fun, until you had the displeasure of meeting Jameson M. Maestro, or Maestro, as everyone called him. He was brilliant, with a razor sharp wit and even a sharper fuse. Every once in a while people would refer to him as Mr. Kettle. Which brought about a very vivid description of a tea kettle whistling steam and jumping around. You had laughed at the image your mind had conjured, and then had felt ashamed.

He never joined in on anything, when the band would gather for an after practice gathering. He was “too busy” or “had too much to do,” refusing to join and typically keeping to themselves after practice.

“I can’t believe he helped you pick up your papers!” Quipped a gnoll, licking the leftovers of a pain au chocolat from their nose.

“I hoped I wouldn’t have to step in again,” Murmured Bo, the big minotaur that was your chair mate. “He gets so angry and tense, I think he needs to take it easy on the newcomers, not everything can be perfect all the time.”

You sat with the few friends you made at a local coffee shop, staring down at the cup of tea that rested in front of you.

“Maybe he finally has?” Mariette, the gnoll, whiskered hopefully. “I feel like he’s getting a little better at least. With the whole temper thing.”

“I don’t know guys,” You said, “I’ve been thinking about quitting, the atmosphere is pretty intense in there.”

“What no!” A clawed hand gripping your shoulder, Mariette’s eyes wide. Bo’s usually angular features deflate. “Oh. . .”

“It’s only been a few weeks since you’ve been there!” Mariette shoots a look up at the Minotaur, “It’s too early to quit! Right Bo??” Bo, blinks and looks uneasy, “Well. . . he has been pretty tough on you kiddo. . . Maybe instead of quittin’ we can talk to him together. Talk to some of the other band mates and talk to him as a team. If it doesn’t get better. . .” The shaggy minotaur shrugs, “Well. . . if you leave, I leave. I don’t like seeing my little ball of sunshine cry.”

Mariette bristles before clenching her jaw, “. . . If you and Bo are outta there, so am I! We’ll just have to find some other hobby to do together.” You look over and smile at them, the stress and worry has your eyes beginning to flow over with tears. “Th-thanks for having my back guys. . .”

The unlikely friends share a big hug and a round of consoling before all going their separate ways. Before you knew it, a week had flown by and the conversation that you had put into the farthest corner of your mind had reared its ugly head.

“I really don’t wanna have that kind of talk with Maestro” You said to yourself in the mirror. “But if I quit I don’t want Mari and Bo to feel like that have to jump ship too.” You watched your brow crease before you sigh, splashing water on your face.

“I wish I knew what to do. . .”

You find yourself arriving to practice early, holding your instrument in front of you as you cautiously push the door open. Alarmed at finding an empty recital, you check your phone and groan inwardly.

“Oh man. . . it doesn’t start for another hour! Dummy— dummy!”

At least. . . it’s quiet. You shuffle up the stairs and leave your instrument on your seat. Putting your hands on your hips as you survey the empty building.

“I guess I can go get a coffee or something. . . I’d hate to go all the way back home just to leave again. . .”

You give another exasperated sigh, checking your phone as you walk back down the stairs. That’s when you notice out of the corner of your eye, a dim cast of light from underneath the door.

You slowly peek around the corner, seeing a brightly colored figure slumped on their desk, hands crossed under himself.

“Ah— Mister Maestro, are you okay?” You open the door and uneasily enter the room, “Maestro?” You put a nervous hand on his shoulder, and give him a little shake. Blue steely eyes crack open, causing you to retract your hand and jump back.

“Oh— thank goodness—“ You flustered, “I was afraid you— I don’t know, passed out?” You rest a hand over your heart and huff. Watching the harpy rouse sluggishly and hold his head.

“Enough, enough—“ He grumbled, “Who?” Before he turned his head and squinted in your direction, snatching a pair of spectacles and peering through them. His feathers did something funny then, ruffling up as he sprang to his feet, suddenly alert at your presence.

“You! What are you doing here?!”

You flinch and back up, “I-I’m here for recital! I j-just got here early!” Holding up your hands defensively.

“Recital. . . isn’t in another hour—“

“Y-yes! Yes I know that! I mean, I know that now, I came early on accident!”

The bright fluff of feathers slowly sink back down into their normal refined state, and he pinched the bridge of his nose with taloned fingers. The two of you standing in a silent and awkward stalement.

You suck in a breath of air.

“I-I can go— If you want. I didn’t mean to distu—“

“It’s fine.”

Both of you wince at the sharp sound of his voice and Maestro sighs grumpily, massaging his forehead.

“Let’s. . . try that again. What I meant is that, you are not disturbing me. I haven’t been sleeping well, and I was glad someone woke me up. Or else I could have slept the whole day away.”

“. . . Would you. . . like me to get you a cup of coffee. . . ?”

Steely eyes glance at you for a moment before he looks away. “. . . I can get something myself, thank you.”

Well. You tried.

You nod and make the mental choice not to take it personally, “Alright then, well if you change your mind, I’ll be going to the coffee shop a block away—“

You blink as you watch him shrug on a coat. Stepping back hastily as he marches forward, but then freezing as he comes to a stop beside you.

“Ah—“

“Since,” He intones quietly, his eyes not meeting yours, “You had to deal with the trouble of meeting me on a particularly dismal morning. . . I’ll treat.”

You stare at him taken aback, his eyes dart to yours ruffling uncomfortably before he stiffens and raises his head high. “I. . . don’t know the way. You have to show me.”

You blink a couple of times, trying to process the situation, as Maestro continues to fluff up with unease.

“O-oh! Sure I can show you where it is!” You give a hesitant smile and gives an almost mechanical nod, refusing to meet your eye.

#monster x reader #monster x human #exophilia #sfw #peacock harpy x reader #peacock harpy x human #harpy x reader #harpy x human #late night post whooo! #it’s cryptid hours baby!

[popcornaddict500]

A little taste of the shorts that'll be in 'Are You A monster Romancer?' (Monsterfucker stories, x reader):

Headless Hunter x human traveller

Giant dragon lady x human whom she's very smitten for

Rare peacock harpy x the curious human who he's slowly getting endeared by

Big centaur x the human he works with at an orchard/farm

Lesbian mermaid x lesbian sailor

Flirty, horny satyr x the human who works in the same town as him

Most of these are 🍋 though some are just mildly citrusy.

#charlie's writing #ehehehe #>:3c

[monsterfloofs]

Since it seems I’ve found myself in a Maestro hyper-fixation what about, Maestro gets invited to a grand musical or ballet premiere and is given a second ticket for a guest. After the whole singing thing with the reader he considers perhaps they might enjoy going but also worries about how he will ask, considering their previous interactions. Also if they go,it could be a romance story much to the surprise and embarrassment of Maestro but reader loves the show anyway. Thank you & love your work!

Oh my gosh— I’m so sorry hun! I started writing this and then my motivation completely tanked! I really wanted to get this out to you sooner and in one piece— But I will send what I have ;-; ) I hope it will suffice.

Maestro (Male Peacock Harpy) x GN Reader

-Unfinished-

After the large show in the music hall, there was a couple weeks lull in practice. Giving the musicians time away from the rigorous schedule to take a break and relax. Perhaps it was a double edged sword, as the two weeks passed in a blur for most, Maestro was struggling with the quiet.

Papers of half composed songs littered the floor and stacked on any available surfaces, abandoned cups of coffee perched amongst the pages and pages of work.

He couldn’t concentrate, no matter how much he paced. It’s been days of much of the same, walking back and forth from his piano to his desk. Impatiently tapping his pen against the paper to stimulate something. Finally, his hand jerked, drawing a dark angry line of ink through his latest creation. Claws snapping closed to scrunch up the paper he had been staring at the last hour. Crumpling it into a tight ball and throwing it into the paper bin beneath the desk. It bounced off the side, landing in a minefield of crushed papers that were left scattered along the floor.

He leans back in his chair, and groans. Using his clawed talons to spin the chair around while he stared up at the ceiling in defeat.

At this point, he was better off pulling a blood feather, than continuing to try and fight for any kind of inspiration to surface. He sits like this for a while, his eyes closing. His head nodding and tilting to the side as he began to doze in the quiet.

A knock at the door has him startling out of his respite. Careful to rub his eyes with his knuckles. A leap of hope almost imperceptible, has him rising from his chair and striding over to the door.

“Well hello there, cousin— Oh— Oh you really look dreadful, trouble sleeping?”

Jameson’s eyes snap open wider at the voice, before he glares daggers at the other figure on the other side of the door.

“Angelo. . . how,” A strained hiss of breath, “Lovely, it is to see you again,”

Angelo beams hopefully, “You really mean that?”

“No,” Came Maestro’s dry responce, already moving to close the door.

“Wa-wait! I am only in town for a little while!” The other harpy blocks the door from closing all the way with their shoulder. Jamming themselves between the door frame.

Angelo’s gives them a wobbly smile, “I was thinking. . . maybe. . . you and I could spend some time together.”

“I’d rather be plucked.”

Angelo’s perfect white eyebrows knit together as his lips form a tight line.

“You know. . . you don’t have to be so crass—“

Jameson gives the door a tiny tug to see if he could sway the other to move, before rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Giving a growl before abandoning the attempt to kick the other harpy out. Stalking over to his desk and busying himself with gathering up his papers.

“Now what do you want? Have you come here to gloat?”

Angelo blinks, their expression turning shocked and hurt. “Of. . . of course not. I was excited to see you, I thought. . .” They trailed off for a moment, “I thought we could talk-“

Jameson snorts, “You and I? There’s nothing to talk about.”

Angelo crosses his arms and looks to the side, “. . . I know you aren’t fond of me much anymore.” Ange sighs softly, “I. . . wanted to apologize, we had been so close when we were younger, goodness you showed me the joy of music. I looked up to you, I. . . I still do.”

“Oh really? If I recall correctly, you stole a song, I song I wrote,”

Angelo winces at the remark, “I. . . I know. It wasn’t mine to take, and I know I can’t turn back time and do it all over again. If I could, please, please believe me, I would have.”

Jameson glances over his shoulder. Angelo shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably. “I want to make it up to you.”

#monster x reader #monster x human #exophilia #peacock harpy x human #peacock harpy x reader #harpy x reader #harpy x human

[monsterfloofs]

Ooh, if you ever can, could you please write something where Maestro comes in early or stays late after practice and as he’s near the auditorium, he hears someone singing to find it’s the reader thinking they were alone and sang to pass the time which started out quietly but then became louder as time passed. Whether he confronts them about it afterwards or doesn’t and it stays in his mind, making him just think about it a lot is up to you! Thank you for reading and I hope you have a lovely day!

Maestro x Anonymous Reader (Singer) Sfw

~

Sing a little song darling, let your voice be heard.

Never have I listened to a sweeter tune of word.

Strum my heartstrings gently, as they are frayed and worn.

Your music may just save me, this heart that’s filled with scorn.

~

The day of the performance had finally come and gone. The heart racing rush you had felt to sit underneath those bright stage lights with instrument in hand. Time that had felt so still, waiting for your cue, had come and gone then within an instant. Now you’re alone in an empty music hall after hours. Your band mates decided to collectively invade a popular restaurant. They booked the seats beforehand so they could celebrate in style for a job well done.

You had promised you would swing by after you had let yourself decompress from the night's events. You weren’t sure how they could mosey on to the next event so quickly without a moment's rest. You, on the other hand, still could feel an excited buzzing in your brain. A restlessness that lended itself for you to tarry. Looking up at the sparkling starlit stage as you peered around the large double doors. It had taken months to get the courage to sit along the lines of the other musicians. Months of practice and patience with fine tuning your instrument. Reciting your part over and over again, until it was as smooth as you could make it. The stage fright and the pep talks. The wondering if you’d survive the night.

You walk down the long corridor that leads to the entrance, instruments put safely away with your cohorts. You let yourself throw your arms wide, doing a spin on the tips of your toes and beaming wide. You had beaten your anxiety today, you had fought through every step that was burdened with worry, and had seen it until the end. You let yourself enjoy victory, taking a deep breath and sighing deeply.

There was another kind of music that you loved, that didn’t involve an instrument. One where you belted out tunes in your car or grooved around the kitchen while you cooked. That was a big part of how you healed from the outside world on a tough day. You pull your earbuds from your pocket, snapping the case open and tucking them into your ear as you linger in the hallway on your phone. Face lighting up as music starts playing. You bob your head back and forth, humming along.

A hum that turned into a subdued and unsure voice that floated down the corridor. However one that rose as you gained confidence in the solitude and silence.

-

There was a voice in the hallway, one that got louder as it passed the doors that lead to Jameson’s office. It was bright and while every note wasn't hit perfectly, you could tell the owner of the voice loved to sing, and put their heart into every note. Maestro pauses, his hand hovering above their paper as his head snaps up to listen. They see you pass by the window, head held high.

“You and I just keep bumping into each other like this—“ He muses, thinking back to the last meeting when the two of you had actually interacted. The attempt to befriend you had gone as dismal as it started. You stood with a horrified smile plastered onto your face, as the two of you stood in the coffee shop line. It was as if you thought of him as some kind of apex predator just waiting for a chance to strike. Being nervous made him cross, and being cross made you nervous. The idea of a simple outing for coffee, trying to be friendly and conversational had turned into the Titanic.

After that, the paths just didn’t cross again. You stayed out of reach and tiptoed around him. Which was possibly for the better, he didn’t know if he could endure another uncomfortable silence. You were too nice to say you were uncomfortable, but you also didn’t have to.

“I’m too old for this,” He huffed, and yet, he found himself peeking around the corner. Watching you with fascination, eyebrows raising as you gave a cute little wiggle of joy and throwing your hands into the air. Steely blue eyes fall upon the earbuds that you were wearing. It was obvious you thought you were alone. He scowls, every fiber of his being yelling at him to duck back into his office and pretend he didn’t see you. To stop being such a love struck fool and leave you well alone. His bad temper would just ruin your night, just like it had at the coffee shop.

Except, he never had the chance to disappear.

You had gotten wrapped up in what you were singing, headphones in and not able to hear the world around you. You had been bouncing almost dancing to the sound that was filtering into your ears, when you turned on your heels, pausing at a dramatic part in the song to do a pose, right in front of the door. Freezing dead in your tracks as your eyes met.

You rip your headphones out, heat suddenly burning into your cheeks,

“Oh- oh you’re still here,” You stammered the obvious, while Mae averted his gaze intently down at his shoes. The delicate plumage around their face rippling.

“You sing. . . Very well,” Maestro mutters awkwardly. “I am surprised you haven’t joined a choir or some other band.”

“I. . . I just sing for fun uh. . . I took choir when I was in middle school but I don’t have any proper training really. . .” Your throat felt thick and dry, swallowing hard and wincing as your voice crackled unpleasantly.

“I um, thought you would have gone home,” you squeaked out, “If I had known you were still working I— I would have been quiet, I didn’t mean to make so much noise.”

Maestro clicks their tongue sharp eyes finally flickered up to look at you, “You. . . always apologize. . . why is that?”

You laugh weakly, “Oh you know— just apologizing for my existence that’s all—“ The look on the harpie's face has you wishing you could slink into your sweater like a turtle.

“Apologize for your—?”

You twitter and pull open the door without explanation. “—Welp! Off to the restaurant! I better not be late!”

You don’t let the situation spiral any further. Feeling sufficiently embarrassed enough as is. The door is slammed behind you harder than you had anticipated. Gritting your teeth and popping the palm of your hand repeated against your forehead. As if that could stop your brain from replaying the scene. “Idiot— Idiot! Of all the things you could have said? Just apologizing for my existence?? UGH!”

It was a confusing muddle of emotions, a tiny smothered part of your heart actually happy that someone had heard you. A part of your soul that you tried so hard to dampen in public, saved for when you could be alone and unjudged. Yet, at the same time, someone ‘heard’ you, saw you, the real you that was underneath the layers of shyness and politeness. Which would have been scary enough, without the added bonus of just who it had been to see it. The music professional, the esteemed, astute, went to the best school of music in another country, kind of professional. Here you were, two shades away from frolicking in the hallway and singing your heart out. You tried not to think about that.

On the other side of the door, stood the conductor. The door slamming had made him jolt. His clawed hand reaches for the door handle before he stops and his shoulders droop.

“That. . . could have gone better,” He mumbles, leaning to rest his forehead against the thick mahogany door. Speaking was never really his forte. The more he tried the worse it got, the words just never came out right. He eyes close and he sighs, it wasn’t good to have feelings for one of your orchestra members. Feelings like this however, typically made any sense. No matter how much logic you peppered your mind with, there were the little things that just stood out more than logic ever could. How you swayed when you were singing, how you spun around and beamed so brightly. How your voice rose and fell. He pressed a clawed hand to his heart, feeling a heavy thudding in his chest.

♡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡♡

Enjoy what I write? I have a tip jar! I also take writing and art commissions on kofi! ヽ(*ᵔ▿ᵔ)ﾉ

ଘ(੭ˊ꒳​ˋ)੭♡ Thanks for the ask! I hope you also have a lovely day / evening ♡

#monster x reader #monster x human #exophilia #peacock harpy x human #peacock harpy x reader #harpy x reader #harpy x human