#this is tangos world and they all just live in it now

[hrefna-the-raven]

The hunt

Fallout masterlist - main masterlist

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x reader

Summary: you were sent to retrieve a precious item, but so was the most notorious bounty hunter in the Wasteland...

(this happens before Cooper ended up in that grave)

Words: 1143

Warnings: swearing

Notes: I had a female reader in mind while reading this but it turned out to be quite neutral so I guess it could be read a gender-neutral as well 😊

Chapter 1 - The plan

The blistering sun burned down on the dusty South Californian wasteland as he entered the ruins of a long deserted town. Tugging his cowboy hat lower to shield his eyes from the blinding sunshine, he instinctively reached for his revolver, drawing it from its holster as he sauntered towards you.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?", he asked with a grin, aiming his gun at you.

You had spotted him the moment he entered the ruins, but hiding was never your style. Your curiosity got the better of you, eager to finally meet the ghoulish bounty hunter whose reputation preceded him. Lifting your gaze from his gun to meet his eyes, you rose to your feet, a mischievous smirk painted across your lips.

"A beautiful face, a wicked sense of humour that provides for good company and", picked up the shotgun propped against the adjacent wall, "a loaded gun if you decide on becoming a problem."

He raised an eyebrow, eyeing the shotgun before returning your smirk.

"Now, ain't that a welcome you could take as a compliment and a warning. Well, you can rest easy, darlin’. I ain't lookin’ to turn this into a bloodbath."

"Neither do I. Would be a shame to rid this world of the legendary Cooper Howard.", you winked at him as you put your gun back.

The ghoul chuckled, holstered his revolver, and tipped his hat while taking a step closer to you.

"Now ain't you a charmer? And one who's done their homework as well."

"Oh when a pre-war celebrity as dashing as you becomes the most renowned bounty hunter of this unforgiving wasteland, one simply must take a closer look."

"Don't go makin' an ol' ghoul blush with your pretty words", he teased.

"As if one could see the blush on that red skin of yours", you chuckled, "so what brings the most feared bounty hunter to this lost place?"

You were intrigued by this man out of time. He lived in the pre-war era, a world that was so different from the one you were born into, wandering around for two decades while he was forced to watch the world crumble and slowly rebuild itself, for better or worse. It begged the question what all this would do to a human's sanity and yet he didn't strike you as mad, quite on the contrary, he possessed something that you'd describe as old world charm paired in a deadly combination with one of the sharpest minds. His expression took on a slightly more serious edge, his gaze fixing to the edge of the ruins.

"Well, I’ve been tracking a caravan, you see. They’re supposed to be passing through these parts sometime soon. I’m looking for a specific item they’re carrying and since this ain't exactly a common route, I'd bet my wrinkly ass you're here for the exact same reason."

"What a coincidence", you laughed, taking out your flask, unscrewing the lid, "that item wouldn't happen to be a crate full of well preserved bottles of the finest pre-war whiskey?"

You took a sip and tapped the space beside you on the wall, gesturing for him to join you before extending the flask towards him. He nodded appreciatively as he accepted it. You were clearly a hunter just like him but your kindness caught him off guard, it was a rare occurrence in the harsh reality of the Wasteland, especially among gunslingers. To him you seemed like a rare but quite intriguing specimen, beauty and charm in a passionate tango with deadly cunning, a single dionaea muscipula thriving in the desert and he was the fly irresistibly drawn to it. This was exactly why he usually kept his distance from others but around you his resolve seemed to crumble, enchanted by the brightness and beauty of your soul.

"Quite the coincidence indeed", the Ghoul murmured, "I wonder how you by this information? If I'd had to guess I'd say that prick Dom Pedro hired one too many for this job."

"Given my additional instructions to kill a certain ghoul should he happen to cross my path, I'd say you're spot on. So what shall we do about this?", you asked, turning towards him, away from the gun as you kept your hands on your lap.

You pokered high on this one, knowing damn well it was a huge risk to admit your instructions to eliminate him while having no intent to do so, it made you vulnerable in front of the Wasteland's most fearsome bounty hunter.

Cooper lit a cigarette, a faint glow casting an eerie glow on his ghoulish face as he puffed on it, studying you with a combination of intrigue and admiration. You had made no move to actually fulfill that part of your contract, another thing that intrigued him about you, another contrast to every other bloodthirsty fucker he met in fucked up ruined world and maybe this was exactly what he needed.

"Well now, ain't that a question for the ages. The way I see it, we got three choices here. First, we could settle this like every other idiot in the trade and see who's left standin'. Second, we could team up and increase our chances of snatchin' that shipment, shared profit of course. Or third...", he took a long drag on his cigarette before throwing it to the ground.

"We get the item, return to dear old Dom and fuck him up gloriously", you offered with a mischievous grin.

Cooper's smile widened as he nodded in agreement. He'd risk a lot but not shooting you straight away but there was this feeling, buried deep down within him that urged him to trust you, a faint notion of the same tingling he had felt so long ago, back when his skin was still smooth and life was less complicated.

"Now you're talkin' my language. Ain't nothin' more exciting than a well-executed betrayal. Besides ol' Dom deserves what's comin' for him. So what do you say? You in?", he asked, extending his hand towards you, his eyes locked on yours.

"Hell yeah", you chuckled and shook his hand, "pleasure doin' business with you, Howard."

The way his name fell from your lips stirred something within him. For over two decades, nobody had called him by his real name, everywhere he went he always simply the ghoul, the notorious mercenary who drifted from place to place, leaving chaos and bloodshed in his wake. However you were the very first person in a long time who seemed to see something different in him and the fearless yet teasing way you talked to him had this undeniable hint of respect, dancing around the borders of genuine affection. He sighed and got up as the sounds of chatters in the distance rang to his ears.

“Our target's approaching, let's get goin'.”

Chapter 2

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story 😊

[behind-you-gem]

I don’t think there was a single “normal” hermitcraft episode this week. I’ve only seen a few hermits who did literally anything other than Decked Out in their videos, but even that was just a side dish to their dungeon runs. Doc didn’t even release the longest video this week!

Sunday’s Hermitrecap is just gonna be renamed to “Decked Out 2 Recap.” This is just the Decked Out server now and I have zero problem with it. I think Tango should guest star if he can find the time.

[writing-fanics]

don’t mess with the devil ii

Part I final

Chapter ii: Home is with you

[warning: mentions of sex]

Lucifer Morningstar x human!Reader

Y/n

Y/n?

Sweetie?

The smell of chemicals wafted through your nose, and the occasional beeps that sounded like a heartbeat monitor? You groaned, and your vision still blurry. “L-Lu?..” Your voice hoarse, but the voice didn’t respond.

“It’s me mom.” The voice said, causing you to sit up quickly in response. “Whoa, slow down.” Your mother, said placing a hand on your back. “I-I’m back..” You whispered, and your mother looked at you worriedly. She gently rubbed your hand, “Yes you’re. Thank Heavens.” She said, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

You sat there and said nothing, staring blankly at the blanket. Processing everything, you were no longer in Hell. No longer with Lucifer. You were back home on Earth with your mother. Like you always wanted right? Then why did you feel so cold? So empty?

You felt as if a piece of you was missing. Like you were missing your other half. Your Lucifer. You missed his warmth, his smile, and his goofy personality at times. He always found a way to make you smile whenever you were feeling down, and you would return that sentiment.

You didn’t tell him you loved him yet, he’s told you. But he respected that you might not be ready to saw it yet. He understood completely, once you explained it to him. Having told him about your bad relationships in the past. Now, that all seemed to end right now. You were never going to see him again.

“Y/n, oh sweetie you look pale.” Your mother said, snapping you out of your thoughts. As she placed her hand on your forehead. “I’ll be right back.” She said, and you assumed she left to get the doctor. You frowned, as you laid back down in the hospital bed. The hospital gown fabric scratchy, and the sound of the heart monitor made you sick.

You laid on your side, back towards the door. Your stomach grumbled, but you didn’t feel like eating anything. Laying in the single bed made you, the king sized bed you shared with the king of hell.

The satin sheets and the comfortable bed. Mainly you missed, laying in bed with him cuddling or just laying there to relax. Or of course doing the ol devils tango. You missed the smell of the caramel apple candle that filled the bedroom. The smell of freshly baked apple by on Saturday mornings.

Tears trickled down your cheeks, as you hid your head into your pillow. As much as you were happy to be back home, seeing your mom again. Somehow, what was once home no longer felt like it.

You opened your closed hand to reveal, a golden ring with wing like textures engraved into it. Tears welled up in your eyes, as you were filled with so much regret.

“I should’ve told him..” you sniffled, as you closed your hand again. Hiding your face into your pillow once again. “How much I love him.” You whimpered, as you sobbed.

back in hell

Weeks later

Lucifer sighed, as he leaned forward onto his desk. His eyes wandered towards the framed picture on his desk, of you and him at Lu Lu World. “This is way better than Disney!” He remembered you said, after which you showed him pictures. He knew of another park called ‘Hellsney’.

You had faded away from his hands, and a part of him knew you were going back to the living world. He felt it when part of his magic he shared with you, returned to him. He didn’t even get to say goodbye, tell you how much he loved you before you faded away in his arms.

At least, he knew you were much sadder up there than here. He couldn’t bear the site of your beaten and battered body. Adam was lucky that Charlie was there to keep him, from killing him.

Lucifer stared down at Adam, as he held Charlie in his arms. His voice distorted and demonic. “You come at me my daughter and my partner!” said Lucifer, as his daughter stepped down onto the ground.

He lunged towards Adam, and stood over him. Eyes red glowing filled with rage, “Don’t forget your in my house now bitch!” He laughed, demonically as he threw punch after punch. With the intent to kill. You don’t mess with the devil or his family.

He’s going to miss that smile of yours, that infectious laughter. Your voice, and your delicious cooking that rivaled his. He never thought he’d find love again after, Lilith left. Yet, here you come in six years later. A human no doubt ending up in hell so suddenly, and he fell in love with you.

Now, you left too. Not by choice but you were gone as well. He was still recovering from Lilith leaving him while the two of you, were still in a relationship. You told him that you understood, being together for as long as they did you understood.

You being there with him helped seemed to heal that wound. Then fixing his relationship with his daughter helped too. But now that wound in his heart, seemed to open back up. Hells, he loved you god so fucking much. You were special there was something about you, maybe the two of you were soulmates.

A silly thing to think but it could be possible?

He reached towards the photo, and stared at it longingly. You had a goofy smile on your face.

He remembered that day, after that photo was taken. A hellbird flew down, and stole his caramel apple. You gave yours to him, and the two of you shared it.

God he was going to miss you..

“Come on.” A distorted voice said, he turned around in his chair. “Who’s there?!” He called out, but saw nothing. Was it all in his head. He could’ve sworn that voice sounded familiar.

“Lu!” A voice called out, a faint yellow glow as if a portal trying to manifest itself appeared behind him. He didn’t notice a hand reaching out to touch him, through the tiny hole.

He thought it must’ve been that Alastor, pulling some sick twisted prank on him. But he could’ve sworn, he felt a little bit of his magic leave him.. That could only mean..

Taglist: @96jnie

[willownwisp]

love like a love song

a love sung, is a love that is lived.

author's note: hi, i'm opening my requests now so feel free to send asks for me! just peek at my nuh-uh list in my pinned for the things i'm okay with and fandoms that i write. also i still suck at titles, and pardon if my format isn't set yet, and my writing style changes. i'm an indecisive air sign also pls befriend me </3 it's so lonely in tumbles w/o friends the fic isn't dialogue heavy as i want to focus on feelings. <3 cw: nsfw mdni pls, SOFT AND FLUFFY, reader is a hopeless romantic and leon is hopelessly in love, fem!reader x di!leon kennedy, p in v.

What once was a sneaky mission to ease your midnight munchies turns into embarrassment when Leon, ever the alert and seasoned agent, catches you leaving his side, and unfortunately thwarting your plans as he follows the sound of your soft footsteps towards the kitchen. Finding you and wrapping his arms around your waist, the height difference making you nuzzle up into his chest and you smile up at him. Sleepy blue eyes, looking at you like you were his life line, and he's never shy to admit that you are. So you look at him like he's the only man in the world, you hope your memory etches every detail of his face because you are so disgustingly in love with each other, sometimes words fall short, and you want to love him with all that your body can show. You never learned how to dance, skipping prom might have been the best idea you've ever struck in your high school mind occupied with thoughts of wanting to be different, coupled with your averseness to boys. Leon doesn't dance, never learned to, the only dance he knows is a tango with death most of his life. Perhaps dancing in the palms of top brass? You pick. Yet the two of you both find yourselves in the kitchen at midnight, you in one of his old shirts, faded with time, Leon in his sweats swaying with you to the beat of nothing but the thrumming in his chest as he cradles you close to him.

It's laughably corny how the moonlight illuminates your eyes, the argentine glow of that lone moon like a spotlight as it peeks through the opened kitchen window. No words are spoken when he sways your body along with his as you are caged in his arms, you face him, and he stops in his tracks. If you were a cartoon character, you'd have hearts for eyes by now. Tired blue eyes looking back at yours, and you swoon, because you know you're his life line, and you're proud to be his. Leon captures your lips in a sweet kiss, you sigh in his mouth before your hands reach up to cup his cheeks, the feeling of his stubble on your skin is one of your favorite sensations, second only to him kissing you. Leon kisses you like tomorrow doesn't exist for him, he savors the taste of your lips that murmur sweet nothings when you think he's asleep, yet only pretending to, just to hear you. You're the only tender thing in his life, so he worships the softness of your skin, the gentle youth you had in you, because that will never be him. Your soft sighs, pleasant moans, are adorable to him, especially when you try to reach him, standing on the tips of your toes because you're cute like that. "Leon? Lovey?" "Hm?" "I love you so much my heart almost always wants to explode." You confess to him, and he swears he could cry, but not now. Leon scoops you up in his arms and lays you down the kitchen table unceremoniously. He covers your body with his and he kisses you all over, while you're wide-eyed and sighing whenever his lips land on your skin, leaving a trail of heat. Calloused hands slowly pulling up his old shirt to expose your bare breasts as he rains kisses down on you. Worship and devotion, Leon kisses the valley between your breasts, thumbs massaging your nipples while his kisses trail south. His fingers hooked on your panties before he gently takes it off of you. His lips follow south, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs down to your calves. He grins at the glistening wetness on your pussy before he presses a chaste kiss on your clit, another one, and another one before lapping at your wetness like you're a goddess feeding him ambrosia. Because Leon is a starved man, but with your appearance in his life, his hankering for love, affection, company is quenched and more. So he loves you with his mouth until you cum on his tongue. Your fluids coating his stubble but he doesn't care. When his cock slips inside you, he doesn't move, not yet. He puts his weight on you, lacing his fingers with yours because he doesn't just have sex with you. He makes love, because you are the embodiment of love for him. You savor his fullness, and he delights in the way you clench around him. Sometimes he wonders if there is another way to be even closer to you, to be one with your very soul. His thrusts are slow, he doesn't focus on roughness. That was for when he's stressed, or when he has gotten home after an op and wants to feel you, to anchor himself in your warmth. You lazily wrap your legs around his waist and sigh, your hands bringing him down as you cup his cheeks to let his forehead rest on yours. Deep blue eyes that hold the deepest depths of his love for you, and you stare into that ocean and dive with him. When you cum, you cum together. Basking in that love with the beating of both your hearts and the syncing of both your breaths. After a moment of silence, Leon smiles and whispers: "I love you so much that my heart wants to explode."

[oh-snapperss]

creature comfort

“We won’t win today,” Cleo says, and Etho knows she’s right. Knows their time has been running out since the first secret was whispered to them in voices all too familiar, has known that this day was coming, has known that all this time, it’s not been a question of if–it’s been a question of when. 

They’re going to die today. Distantly, Etho wonders if the domesticity they’ve worked for will die with them, or if it will follow them back home. 

Will his home ever be a physical place again? Home is where the hearth is, where the warmth is, where the world is shut out and it’s just the three of them. 

Home is where Cleo is. 

“That’s alright,” Etho smiles instead of voicing all of that, wishing, of all things, that he didn’t still have that awful cough that Cleo had insisted he rest over for a few days. “We’ll be alright.” 

They’ll be dead–and what are the dead, if not alright? The dead don’t have coughs, or pain, or fear. They’re just dead. Etho thinks he might not mind it so much, this time. He’s finally learned to spend his time wisely, and he’s built a home no flaming arrow could ever take down. 

Just by the cow pen, there’s a stupid little porch Etho had built a while back. They’re nowhere near it now, but every night he and Cleo had watched the sunset, drank a final cup of tea, and turned in to sleep over gossip and giggles only they could draw from each other this time ‘round. Before, Bdubs had made him laugh like that–now, Etho wonders how long before there’s a sword at his throat. 

Even so, while Cleo laughs and watches him set Scar’s porch on fire, Etho hopes he might have the privilege of watching the sunset from the porch one last time. He’d survive the day, if only for another sunset with Cleo. 

BANG. 

Tango’s gone–Etho knows it in his heart. Surely he should feel an ache for him, should ask how he went. Instead, it’s easy to accept it. 

The wardens are fun. That’s all they are, now. Before, they had been terrors, then the answer to a desperate prayer he and Grian had made. The carnage of those terrifying beasts feel muted compared to before, but with the wind flying through his hair, the elated cries of Cleo in front of him, Etho can’t care. Not this time. They lead two clear to the middle of the server before they’ve decided to finish having their fun, and Cleo’s just stepping up some rocks when she says it. 

“You’re my favorite, you know that? You’ve always been my favorite.” 

He does know, he does know now. He’d guessed it that first sunset, when Cleo sat down with a giddy smile to recount their day. He’d thought it, when she’d wrapped a blanket around his shoulders after his failures and rested her head on his shoulder without a word. He’d lived it, when she had shouted that she would kill him if he tried to kill her–but was reassured otherwise that night on the porch again, with the curse ebbing from his bones. 

Today, he knows it in the blatant rebellion against what’s supposed to be the end, the dread, the fear. 

“You’re mine too.” Etho grins back, and knows that they’ll see his smile even through the mask–knows they’ve come to recognize it in his tone and way his eyebrows scrunch together. . 

They wind up in the sky base with Grian–Grian, who hasn’t quite reached the same conclusion they have. Etho knows by the shadows under his eyes he won’t give up, that he’ll fight clear to the end. Once upon a season, Etho had been the same. 

Not this time. Never this time. 

Around ten minutes to sunset, Etho and Cleo set down their dripstone and bows, and sit on the edge of the cobblestone wall. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back to our base for it this time,” Etho jokes, nudging his shoulder into Cleo’s. Cleo laughs, a carefree thing, and wrinkles her nose. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for it any time, if we’re being honest.” She leans back, one hand half behind her to support her weight. 

“I know,” Etho says. He brings his leg up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. Behind them, cobblestone is placed–Grian, ever the survivor. “It was nice, though.” 

“It was nice!” Cleo beams. “Are you alright with this?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Etho hums. “‘s not so bad. Dying with a friend.” 

“It won’t be,” Cleo agrees. 

Because that’s just it, isn’t it? Etho’s never died like this–he’s died at the flames of an arrow shot while protecting his king, he’s died in fights after his allies were killed. Hell, he’s died hand in hand with a soulmate hellbent on killing him now–but he’d been in a frenzy then, a rage-induced thing meant to burn up the place that had never been a true home to them. 

He thinks he won’t mind dying with someone. 

The sun sets in brilliant hues of orange and pink, and they sit together, this final tradition not lost in the face of inevitability. Just as the first star twinkles, Grian comes over, hoisting them back to their feet. 

“They’re coming,” he says. 

It’s time. 

They shoot a few arrows, break some dripstone, all to no avail–but that’s alright, he’s got Cleo, and they’ve got him. 

But oh, the games are never kind, are they? Etho slips, his foot landing weird somehow–and he’s whistling through the air towards the ground at a speed too fast. It knocks the breath from his lungs when he lands–does he hit the clutch? Stars, he doesn’t actually know, because there’s arrows shot at him, shouts of glee from the hunters, and suddenly Etho’s not Etho, he’s just prey–and prey only know to do one thing. 

Run. 

Etho flies forward, dragging his sword out. There’s not many safe spaces left on the server–stars, Grian had even mentioned their base was but a crater in the hill. 

But the porch… the porch was intact. Supposedly. 

He enderpearls, and enderpearls again, and it’s still not enough. The screams behind him are closer, and closer, and then further–and oh, Etho knows it’s time. He’s dead, he’s gone, he’ll be but a wisp of the wind in a few minutes whether he likes it or not. 

And he won’t die by Cleo. 

Cleo, Cleo, Cleo. Oh, he’d not meant it to be like this. He’d meant to die with a smile, right by her side–just as they were meant to die by his. This wasn’t the plan, this wasn’t the plan. A sob claws its way up his throat, the beginnings of the blind panic he’d never meant to feel tonight. He’s going to die, alone, without the comfort of his Cleo. 

Home. He wants to go home. 

Home is in the air, a hundred blocks above him. He’ll never make it–but he can make it back to the porch, the one place of peace. Now, he can feel the twinge of something broken in his ankles, probably from the fall–and the cuts, the bruises, the blood scent thick in his nose. He’s so tired. 

He wants to die at home, he wants to die at home. 

“Oh, he sounds like a wounded animal… let’s put him out of his misery.” A voice said. Cold fear grips Etho’s heart, and he stumbles forward–the porch is in sight!

Let him die at home. Let him die at home. 

A shadow fills his vision, and Etho’s not even had time to lift his shield before blinding pain fills his stomach, and it’s over. 

He’s not allowed that creature comfort of dying at home. 

[hana-no-seiiki]

Hi! I’m the one who asked about Cat Villain! Reader theme lol. It’s nice to have a person to think as same as me, anyway civilians probably confusing about how all 4 Robins so fond of the villain but they still have that kind of rivalry to them, at least in civilians’ views. STILL

I’d like to add another trailer song that I often use when rotting over cat villain! reader

Eula’s theme is such a good one for heists/a little tango with the bois.

I feel like the general public have a general clue as to the relationship of cat villain! reader and the robins

purely because some of the guys (*cough* Jason *cough*) has fucked them in public, and as much as Gotham is unsafe at night, and no matter how many measures the boys put to protect you, there will always be fanatics that’ll witness everything you guys do.

of course, the damning info is mostly kept in small circles due to the miraculous power of ‘paying people to take shit down’ the Waynes have but a lot of fans have headcannoned and could sometimes build an entirely accurate version of your relationships.

tim was definitely one of your top fansite keepers before he became robin (even though it wasn’t his main focus). he most likely influenced a very uh… ‘sasaeng’ type of attitude in your fandom. which wasn’t regulated well until he realized his mistakes. nowadays, he makes sure your fans are more tamed.

sometimes i imagine cat villain! reader to be a celebrity, less known in america and mostly abroad (bonus if you guys aren’t from there to begin with, so your popularity can just be focused on or around your home country) that is until they were suddenly seen with Dick Grayson in public. you two were very much young and not careful.

people know you as that person that dated Dick, and is now extremely close with his brother, Tim. Definitely scandalous. The only thing stopping Damian from being labeled as one of your conquests is that, dude only realized his feelings recently and he usually approaches your civilian form as Robin. why? Damian’s just a show off, but Robin can be a show off without being seen as arrogant. he’s just doing his job

you have your fair share of villain friends you enjoy hanging out/sleeping with. some of them do you favors in exchange for a night. mostly because they know it’ll piss off the Batboys and throw them off their game though it does come with the risk of being beaten down to death.

i also think it’d be funny if in civilian form as a celeb, cat villain! reader just likes to profess their ‘undying love’ to Bruce 24/7 and how he totally slept with them once and their heart has been taken since. just like to be a menace and cause more chaos with people accusing them of using his kids.

when you found out tim protected your image and generally surveyed posts about you 24/7 you got into a little argument cause you wanted the world to breakdown about your identity and the shit you’ve done

and last but not least, the only reason you haven’t been cancelled to non-existence is cause of your large donations to charity and very humble living. sure, you liked to troll the universe in its entirety but in the end cat villain! reader main purpose is to help the needy. you’re most likely one of Bruce’s biggest investors (again, just to be a little shit)

you’re a little shit yeah, but you’re the batfam’s little shit.

OH! and you like visiting Jason’s grave even after he came back. partly due to missing his old self, but it also assists with keeping his identity unknown with how often you guys are together.

bonus: you’ve interacted a fair bit with the batgirls and duke. by that i mean you’ve bullied them all at some point that it has become almost a christening ritual for you to be a menace to each member.

[twistedchatterbox]

Wedding Whims

summary: their favourite parts of your wedding tags. Marriage, GN reader, Fluff, Smitten boys 4 Thou'st's' Enjoyment, No Spoilers, no beta we overblot like men, tweels are too deep in love.

Wordcount; 600+ | Masterlist & Taglist

The cake; Your future husband could have quite the sweet tooth occasionally, though whether he is pleased about it or not is up for debate; you know him better than that. He holds up the fork of samples for the cake for you to snack on, and the adoration on his face is so much more sweeter than the flavor when you let him feed you. The way he looks delighted upon seeing you return the gesture makes your heart run a marathon, you cannot wait to do this all over again at the wedding, and he cannot wait to be your husband. -Riddle, Trey, Che'nya, Ace, Ruggie, Jamil, Kalim, Idia

The venue; Whether it's his artistic 6th sense or a whisper of the wind and tide, he just knows that he wants your wedding to be at a beautiful location. Sentimentality, beauty, meaningful and lovely. His heart skips a beat at every location suggested by the wedding planner as he envisions the way you'd look on your wedding day. To him, this place must be worth being graced by your radiance; and he knows exactly what he wants. He can barely wait to see the day; and even then, you take his breath away. -Cater, Jade, Rook, Vil, Lilia, Malleus, Kalim

The clothes; regardless of the theme and slash or the dress code of this wedding, he knows you will look stunning. He goes through the isles upon isles of his choices and every time he looks at something that catches his eyes, he thinks of you. Specifically, the way he'd look next to you, and that motivates him to go and pick the perfect fit for you, as he intends to be the same. Every day, every night, the way you'd look on the wedding day lives in his head rent free, making him daydream as he indulges in his imagination which he does more than he'd admit to anyone. -Azul, Vil, Sebek, Silver, Neige, Jack, Deuce, Epel

The vows; of course, this is often overlooked as everyone does, or at least claims to, put their heart and soul into it. Well, he would put his everything and the entire world's treasures too if he could and if you asked it wouldn't even be a joke. Obsessed, he could be, for you he could be. Anything. You've got his heart in your tender loving hands and he intends to put his everything on display, for you, he could, for you, he would. There is no punchline, really; it's not a vow to him, it's an oath. -Jade, Floyd, Malleus, Rook, Jamil, Leona, Floyd again, Idia

The dance; Ideally, you would only dance with him, as it meant a big deal to your husband-to-be. Would it be a slow dance? Would it be waltz, tango, something cute, sweet or something a bit more intimate? He would dance to your whims, today, now, for the rest of your lives. This tempo of tandem hearts, he finds himself being in sync wit you, he knows the two of you will trip, fall, but he also knows you'll get up together; and it tightens his hold ever so slightly on you as the loving gaze in those cupid struck eyes intensifies for you. Let him twirl you, dip you, spin you, and kiss you lovely between steps too. -Floyd, Riddle, Epel, Ace, Leona, Lilia, Neige, Silver

Oh and, Ortho was positively delighted about catching your bouquet! The boy's giddiness and happiness was so contagious for you that it became one of his favourite memories too.

...He was too busy admiring your happiness to watch anything else, though. -Trey, Cater, Riddle, Jack, Malleus, Silver, Deuce, Azul, Floyd, Jade, Kalim ....He rolled his eyes out of habit with a huff, but his happy smile spoke for itself and him too. -Ace, Leona, Ruggie, Sebek, Lilia, Jamil, Epel, Vil, Rook ...He couldn't help but grin alongside you, as it was just as special to him. -Idia

[hazbn-oneshots]

Dancing Headcanons

Enjoy!!

Charlie:

Charlie loves to dance, that’s a given. With as strong as a passion that she has for singing, well it’s not really surprising when the two go together like milk and cookies.

Both a fan of freestyle dancing as well as more classical styles, she’ll grab your hand and pull you into a full Ballroom-Style Waltz before moving onto a lively two-step.

Speaking of the waltz, it’s one of her favorite dance styles. It makes her yearn for a day where she could throw a big party and just parade around the room, showing off just what kind of power couple is taking on Hell.

She mainly just likes to show you off, she’s very proud to call you her partner and she’d scream it from the rooftops if she could.Or even twirl you ‘round and ‘round an ornately decorated ballroom.

Until then she’ll settle for twirling you around in the dim light of your bedroom, singing quietly to the old record playing.

Vaggie:

Vaggie doesn’t know how to dance and it takes a lot of convincing and just a little bit of bribing for her to even entertain the idea of letting you show her some moves.

She’s relatively quick on the uptake, however, her background as a fighter serving her well to stay quick on her feet. She definitely takes to the livelier dances, absolutely loves to salsa and as soon as she hears the music she’s immediately tying her hair up.

Vaggie will never admit it to you but she looks forward to these moments with you, showing her whichever new dance you had practicing just to show her.

Lead her through a sultry tango and you’ll have her swooning in no time, although in the classic Vaggie fashion you’ve come to love. With a face brighter than the sun, if you even dare to try going for a kiss she’ll…. Well she may just let you have one ;)

Alastor:

Few may know but in the living world, Alastor lived quite a thriving social life and with that comes a little bit of knowledge when it comes to the dancefloor, be it old fashioned as it may.

He’ll be genuinely delighted if you’ll ask him to dance with you, probably one of the few times you see his forced grin slip into a more relaxed smile.

Alastor forces everyone to vacate the main floor of the hotel, after all, he would have nothing in the way of a perfect evening with his darling.

An evening complete with a custom outfit he’d had ordered for you from his tailor-only the best- and a shiny old phonograph that broadcast music that he was more familiar with himself. 

And with you on that floor, he almost feels like his old self. It’s like the hotel fades away only to be replaced with the backdrop of the old club he’d frequent when he was still human. He’ll fox trot ‘till the morning comes, loves to Charleston, his smile never wavering one bit.

He only begins to slow when he notices you begin to slow, tripping on your feet with a newfound exhaustion. He’ll glide you to a stop, one hand on your lower back and the other holding one of your own.

"We’ll break for now dearest, wouldn’t want to take you out of the race”

You better take a breath and drink of water though because before you know it you’re swept away again

Husk:

He’s more of a watcher, truth be told. With his big ol feet and wings, he knows he’ll end up getting in the way so he prefers to keep his post behind the bar. It doesn’t bother him, not dancing anyway. These stupid little hang outs that Charlie organizes at the hotel bar piss him off beyond belief however.

Things typically go one of two ways. Either every resident of this forsaken hotel will completely disregard the invitation; Which never fails to upset the poor princess and leave her and Vaggie sulking on a couch.

Or, on rare nights such as tonight, a few residents will show up and sometimes it’ll fizzle out not long after everyone gathers. 

Not tonight though.

You see, during your stay at the hotel you and Angel had come to become quite close and as such had decided to take it upon yourselves to liven everyone up a little. You pick the music though, Angel’s taste wasn’t awful but you feared sending Sir Pentious into a fit with the content.

You only try to ask Husk to dance once and his wordless response was but a chuckle.

"I don’t dance kid but, maybe next time” and if you catch the hint of fondness in his eye as he turns to put a glass away, you sure don’t mention it.

Angel Dust:

Sign him the fuck up, he doesn’t care what they put on, when it is, he just wants to grab his love bug and give them a spin.

He’s the type to remember certain reactions you’ll have to specific songs, making sure to add them to a special playlist reserved for you.

He even named it after you, adding little hearts and kissy faces next to your name.

Angel likes to break it put whenever you’re feeling down, even if you’re not fully up to a dance he’ll wrap you up in a gentle sway anyway. 

Due to the height difference he’ll let you stand on his feet while he sways back and forth. Complete with little peck kisses on the head and face as well.

It’s not long before you’ve got your face buried in his chest, wondering what you did to deserve someone like him.

He’s gonna twerk on you at some point those, it’s inevitable. If the two of you are out on the town for a night, you can bet he’ll be dragging you to the liveliest club possible, eager to dance up on his honey

Requests are open!!

[anlian-aishang]

Kinktober Day 9: Virgin!Levi & First Time

Word count: 1900 Tags: levi x reader, smut, fem-bodied!reader, virgin!levi

The strongest were not born, they were sharpened. It was never his goal to earn that superlative, rather, the world had forced it onto him through its kicks and punches. Levi’s walls were impenetrable, you were the first to show him that there was weakness to that. When he wanted to let someone in, there were no points of entry. Getting to know him - first the friendship, then the relationship - your love was a blade that sawed its way through: act by act of kindness. 

Tonight and its milestone. Was this the completion of your carving? Had you finally stepped through to the other side? 

You had not the mind for that now: in his room, on his bed, bare before the other. Clothed only in moonlight and an entanglement of his pristine white sheets, shrouded in disbelief at the scene you found yourselves in. You never imagined you would get to see him like this. He never thought he would show this side of himself. 

Tearing down that slate, stripping him free from garment after garment, you had gradually revealed the man beneath. Vision honed into his tells. Hands in his lap, holding each other: his grounding technique. Minute twitches in his perpetual flat lip: wavering composure. Those familiar signs helped to decipher those new to you. The flush in his chest and face: blood running hot and fast. Arousal half-hidden beneath the bridge of his hands. Toes curled into the comforter. Heels dug into the mattress. 

Playing witness to his nerves made them contagious. To see unease in a character defined by calm resulted in a shared anxiety. He was the one you turned to for solace. Now, the tables had turned, and he was the one in need of comfort. 

That sense of responsibility filled you with a sudden confidence, a mission. You cupped his cheek in your hand, softly, “Don’t worry, Levi.” You thumbed some sweat from his skin, “I’ll take good care of you.”

Levi closed his eyes and sighed. Foreheads pressed together, he closed his fingers around your wrist, “I know.”

Communicating his trust to you, but convincing himself to have faith. His intuition was remarkable among all, immaculate above all, but some unspeakable irritant kept him tethered to doubt. He found the days you were together uncountable, but knew the times you betrayed him to be zero. Levi inhaled: you’re fine. Then exhaled: and you know it. 

You watched his breathing, not with anxiety, but with adoration. Just watching him be, watching him live, felt like a privilege. The thought of pushing him had not crossed your mind. Palm descended from his cheek to his heart, “You know, we don’t have to -”

“No.” Levi’s gaze snapped open, his breaths regulated, “I want to.” A deliberate swallow, throat cleared of hesitation. He tilted his chin and brought his lips to yours, “I want you.” 

Your eyes widened just briefly before his hand caressed your nape and pulled you to him. Tongue swiped the slit between your lips and prodded you open for his kiss. Your gasp, he drank it, fuel for his venture. Levi explored every part of you, moaned as he savored your taste. Teeth grazed your bottom lip then bit, anchoring you to him. Authoritative and assured. There he is. 

Just as infectious as his angst was his assertion. As he confidently dipped his tongue down your throat, you took control in your climb up his body. Hands on his shins, over his knees, crawling up and up his thighs. Deliberately, you passed over his neediest spot. Lust encouraged you to be hasty in fucking Levi Ackerman. Love reminded you to be gentle as you made love to your virgin. 

Along the sides of his waist, through his sultry groans and your enamored sighs, you both adored the touch: soft grip a lovely contrast to his sharp hip bones. Fingernails traced each muscle of his abdomen. Palms to his pectorals. Right hand ran over and around his throat. Left hand tangoed with his locks. At his undercut, they met: fingers knotted together, a grapple to your ride. 

Your legs landed on the outsides of his, running parallel. Backs of your thighs to the tops of his. Chests apart just enough to aggravate him, make his mind wander about how good it would feel to have your front wholly to his. Mind fucking made the physical version better, but he would learn that eventually. 

Small and slow steps for now. You reached down quickly, but delicately grazed his member. Fingertips to his shaft, base of your hand to his tip. Establishing your hold, not even working him yet - despite your carefulness, Levi clenched his teeth and hissed. The first time he had been held by another. He tilted back against the headboard, loosened his jaw, and sighed. Once again, convincing himself of a fact he knew to be true. It felt good. You felt good. 

Brows narrowed, you lingered for a handful of seconds, surveying his state for a sign of stoppage. Instead, he clutched your arm and began to push and pull your grip - back and forth, up and down his length. Moving as one. Together. With each oscillation, you felt his solidity strengthen, both in his erection and his stability. Mentally comfortable in the pursuit of pleasure, though his strained tendons and exasperated exhales suggested the opposite. 

Circling over his tip, drifting your thumb along his slit, “A’Ah!” Levi squirmed beneath you. Fists bunched in the sheets, bolts to his writhing,“Sh’it…” 

Veins began to make themselves visible. His cock began to rise into a steep arc. It was then that your daydreams came to fruition, recognizing how perfectly that curve would fit inside you, and how even the inexperienced newcomer would reach your most sensitive spot.

You manipulated your movements to bring him just outside your sex. Bent forward, your lips to the cusp of his ear. Eagerly, yet calmly, you cooed, “Just sit back, relax. I’ll take care of you, Levi.”

Taking care as you lowered yourself that crucial distance. Cautious as your hips began to rock. Nervous yourself, but projecting control as you made his pleasure your priority. Hands knotted behind his neck combined with the bend of your knees provided the leverage for it. 

His tip hit your favorite patch. His length filled you up while his girth stretched you thin. The sensation he brought you lured shameless sounds out from in, coloring the air of his room. Swears he never would have expected the first time he laid eyes on you. 

You fluttered your eyes shut and deepened your fucks. From base to top every time. So deep in your warm velvet caress, Levi grit his teeth and cursed. 

The stress in his tone brought you back from your selfish escape. A soft, soothing kiss, you ensured, “Let me know if it hurts, okay?”

He could only tilt his head back and moan. You were correct in translating: it didn’t. Physicalities reinforced those ideas. His passion had begun to leak inside of you. Your arousal started to seep, drenching his shaft. You held your breath in anxious await of your clean freak’s panic, but he did not seem to notice. If anything, the syrup to his voice and ripple of his abdomen suggested he enjoyed it. 

Dangerously sweet. Levi did not have much experience with orgasm, though even that he was ashamed to admit, but his intuition remained keen even as you rocked him. Building pressure in his core caused his floodgates to shake. Legs trembled, failing to stabilize. Arms spasmed, unable to slow your bounces. Lip quivered, incapable of warning you of his symptoms. On top of it all, a blinding headrush of a degree he had never encountered before, a spiral he was helpless to stop.

Levi flushed red in an embarrassed sweat. He had told himself that he wouldn’t cum too fast, not before you, but “Fuck…” Levi moaned, “you feel so good!”

Poor little thing could hardly help himself. His strain was pathetic, but with your infatuation, you dubbed it heartwrenching. Twitches and trembles seized his body, and suddenly, humanity’s strongest was reduced to pure weakness. That’s how good you were. 

Even as your head swelled with that compliment, your concern for him remained steadfast. While delighting in his vulnerability, stronger was your urge to watch his release. 

You withdrew your hands from the back of his neck to the sides of them. Slamming your lips to his, a hard and fast kiss accelerated your movements. You could taste the desperation in his gasps, could feel the surge in his length. His end was near, it was all but spelled out. Having dreamt of this so long, though, you needed to hear it.

“Gonna cum?” You beckoned, “Gonna cum, Levi?” 

Your tone bordered on teasing. The personification of his insecurity in finishing too fast. “N’No…” Levi flung his head to the side, exhibiting stubborn denial, “N’Not… yet…”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. Didn’t he want this? Your memory rang clear: I want to. I want you. You studied his expression: bright red blush, grit teeth, gaze laboriously squint. In that eye contact, you wordlessly understood his refusal to give in. Perhaps more than anything or anyone, you had learned how considerate Levi was. Sacrificing his own time, energy, joy for nameless strangers, let alone you. 

The thought of faking it crossed your mind, and it was not only that you did not want to establish a dangerous pretense, but more so that you recognized how easily he would see through it. And how livid he would be.

In lovely compromise, you intertwined your fingers with his and serenaded, “Go ahead, baby. Cum.” A selfless demand. “Cum for me.”

For you. Only with that pretense could Levi allow himself to give in, and you knew it. In this context and others, if it served you at all, he would strive for it. With how amazing you felt, that strife did not last long. 

With his last ounce of control, Levi squeezed your hips in a white-knuckle grip, jerking you into the places and rhythms that would get him there. All the while, emitting screams that would wake the city and squander any doubt over what was going on in his room. 

“A’Ahhh!! F’uck, (Y/N)...!” A couple of heaving breaths nearly worried you, but the violent slams of his hips and fervent warmth inside actually quelled you. To his loud and repeated melody of oh god - oh fuck - fuck - fuck me - your content hums played harmony. In peripheral vision, you caught a glimpse of the clock and smirked to yourself: record time. 

As his breathing returned to regular, as his eyes drifted back open, you smiled and slowly lifted yourself off his lap and spun yourself to his side. His arm wrapped around your back, hand took a strong hold of your shoulder. Before your eyes, you savored the way his chest rose and fell, the overstimulated nerves that twitched themselves to calm. Most of all - the erasure of his embarrassment, replaced by consideration then determination.

After all, he still had his mouth. 

Kinktober Year 3 Masterlist

[mermaidgirl30]

✨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.

[wren-kitchens]

we’re not bruised; they’re just party tattoos

2716 words CW: alcohol

scott is far too drunk to be making rational decisions. he knows this just as he knows that he probably should have switched from wine to water about an hour ago; as he knows that a game of spin the bottle is a very, very stupid idea right now. however, he knows all these things rationally, and scott has long since decided that he is going to ignore all rational thought and deeply regret everything tomorrow morning, hand in hand with whatever abysmal hangover is going to follow. so rather than acting logical or rational or like someone who wants to survive until the next morning, scott plonks himself down directly next to tango in the circle of his equally drunk friends, sitting close enough that their shoulders brush. it’s new years, okay, they’re allowed to be stupid; resolutions start tomorrow, not tonight.

this was meant to be posted on new year’s day. yeah I gotta stop expecting deadlines to work but hey we can pretend it’s a valentine’s day gift!

if you enjoyed, please reblog!

scott is far too drunk to be making good decisions.

he knows this just as he knows that he probably should have switched from wine to water about an hour ago; as he knows that a game of spin the bottle is a very, very stupid idea right now. however, he knows all these things rationally, and scott has long since decided that he is going to ignore all rational thought and deeply regret everything tomorrow morning, hand in hand with whatever abysmal hangover is going to follow.

so rather than acting logical or rational or like someone who wants to survive until the next morning, scott plonks himself down directly next to tango in the circle of his equally drunk friends, sitting close enough that their shoulders brush. it’s new years, okay, they’re allowed to be stupid; resolutions start tomorrow, not tonight.

the smart people in their group stopped drinking after they got tipsy, and so now they’re all being babysat by an amused pixl, a somewhat concerned xisuma and a deeply smug cleo. scott is fairly certain she only stopped drinking so they’d have a crystal clear memory of the fuckups they will all inevitably cause and so will be reminded of for the rest of their lives. the smart people, however, are the vast minority of the party, and so the world right now is chaos incarnate.

gem and scar have been giggling about the least humorous topics scott has ever heard—which includes the shape of the wine bottle that is positioned in the middle of the circle. grian has been extraordinarily bold for the entire night, and is actually flirting with mumbo, who seems equally enamoured and embarrassed by it all. scar whoops from across the circle each time grian manages to get mumbo to blush. lizzie has been flirting with joel idly, and seems to be entirely unaware of how flustered joel is getting—much to everyone’s amusement.

“are we spinning or what!” pearl yells over the commotion. unfortunately for scott, she is still leaning on his shoulder, and has very literally just yelled into his ear.

“yeah we are!” scott shouts back, and pearl shrieks with laughter, pushing him away. scott cackles and pushes her back.

the next few minutes is a blur of too-loud laughter and squeals through a haze of drunken grins. scott manages to make out joel and jimmy being overly dramatic about the smallest peck of the lips, the entire room screaming as mumbo and grian kiss for much longer than is strictly necessary—and then a very flustered mumbo and grian scurrying out of the room, presumably to finish making out in private—and cleo being eventually dragged in to kiss a grinning lizzie, to the mock-devastation of joel.

scott whoops along with everyone else as the bottle lands on him, watching with anticipation as the bottle spins a full three-sixty. except- it doesn’t spin a full 360, because it instead lands on.. tango.

and this is the second of the abysmal decisions scott makes. because instead of giving tango a brief peck on the lips and playing it off like a joke, scott’s idiotic, drunken brain decides that he may as well put some effort in. after all, if he’s only ever gonna kiss tango once, he wants it to be worth it.

“come on tango!” scott is laughing, watching for any minuscule sign of discomfort or apprehension from tango. there is none.

tango is grinning along, leaning forward into scott’s space. “well, I hope you live up to your reputation.” he winks, and it’s like he’s just set fire to scott’s brain.

scott grabs the collar of tango’s shirt, leaning in until their noses brush. “you’ll have to be the judge of that.”

the first thing scott registers is that tango’s lips are soft. like- really soft. he’d kind of assumed his lips would be almost harsh and rough, because of his netherborne roots, but void, he was mistaken. after this, scott is gonna ask what kind of skincare routine tango has.

except- he doesn’t really get a chance to, because tango nips a little at scott’s lower lip, and suddenly every intelligent thought is wiped from his mind. tango’s teeth, it seems, are just as sharp as they look. well, two can play at that game.

something in scott’s stomach ignites as he runs his own teeth over tango’s lip and hears the half-stifled gasp he elicits. scott suppresses the urge to smile, and instead slides his hand from tango’s cheek into his hair and grips it, relishing the heat that has begun to emanate from tango’s body.

scott is grinning when the whistles and shrieks from the group pulls the two apart, deeply satisfied to see the way tango’s catlike pupils have enlarged. “so? how’d I do?”

it takes tango a second to gather himself, and scott’s grin slips into a smirk. oh, he could get used to this.

“so-so.” tango shrugs, clearly attempting a nonchalant tone, but the way his eyes keep darting back to scott’s lips tells another story.

scott cackles regardless. “well then, I guess i’ll have to practice.”

with a rush of warmth through his chest, scott watches as tango budges closer to skizz and mutters to him, “I volunteer as tribute.”

“i’m not complaining.” scott says just loud enough for tango to hear, if only to watch the way tango’s eyes widen in panic as he realises scott overheard him. he winks teasingly, and turns back to the chaos, where grian and mumbo have just come back.

to his own surprise, scott finds himself zoning out, even as gem and pearl decide that they can’t be bothered to wait for the bottle to choose and instead make out in the middle of the circle. although, scott does make a mental note to make fun of pearl about this at any given opportunity—most likely after she makes fun of him for how intense his and tango’s kiss ended up being.

but- embarrassingly, all he can think of is tango’s lips. because- okay, seriously, tango is a good kisser—which- scott really should have thought about that—and it’d be one thing if scott was just enjoying the kiss, but- it definitely is not. the kiss was not so good that it warrants this level of thinking about it, and scott really doesn’t know why he even decided to actually kiss tango in the first place. like- does he even have any self restraint anymore?

wow, scott can’t believe he actually asked that when the answer is so obvious: no, he really doesn’t.

-—

unfortunately for tango, drinking is not doing one of its best jobs of making him forget everything about himself—more specifically, the kiss. in fact, he seems to be unable to focus on anything but, which is getting increasingly more embarrassing. if you couldn’t already tell, tango was absolutely lying when he said scott didn’t live up to his reputation. rather, he surpassed it by far, which is proving to be extraordinarily inconvenient if tango wants to get through this night without doing something stupid. again.

but of course, stupid is his middle name; literally (he lost a bet, don’t ask), so the plan of ‘don’t make an entire fool out of himself’ is going to be a lot harder to manage than it probably ought to be. especially if scott doesn’t stop looking at him like that.

“you thinking about something or just enjoying the view?” tango calls, foolishly, to scott. they’ve been out on the balcony of whoever’s house this is (he forgot sometime around when he kissed scott) for about ten minutes, intentionally avoiding each other’s eyes. scott, however, has apparently given up on this and has been gazing absentmindedly at tango for at least a minute.

scott gives a crooked grin, and tango so desperately wants to kiss it off his face. “why can’t I do both?”

tango scrambles for something equally witty to say as scott stands and moves over to him, something akin to curiosity in his eyes. “you know, you are unfairly pretty.”

if tango was speechless before, he’s entirely hopeless now. “you- I- I am?”

“wh- I mean come on,” scott brushes a loose hair out of tango’s eyes, tracing his fingers down his jaw. yeah, okay, tango has officially lost his mind. “you’re like a- a painting.”

well, if scott’s allowed to flirt with him, tango isn’t gonna take it lying down.

“there you go again.” tango takes scott’s hand in his own, pressing a delicate kiss to his knuckles. he watches with the utmost fascination as scott’s cheeks turn the faintest shade of red at the action. “i’ve never met anyone so much like a siren as you, scott.”

scott raises an eyebrow, and tango follows the action with his eyes. “a siren, huh?” he says, rubbing a thumb across tango’s hand. “why is that?”

tango gives the ghost of a smirk, watching as scott’s eyes flit to his lips. “you do this- this whole song and dance, you make me swoon, and then you’re gone.” he moves closer. “it’s like chasing wind with you.”

“come on.” scott gives a little breathy laugh, and tango’s mind reels as he realises he’s managed to fluster him. oh man, tango could get used to this. “you can catch me, if you try.”

“i’ve seen this all before.” tango tilts his head ever so slightly. “with jimmy, with pixl, with martyn.” he rests a hand on scott’s waist, heart leaping at the poorly stifled gasp scott gives as he does so. “I don’t know what to think with you.”

“i’ll tell you then,” scott says, and the flirtatious note in his voice is suddenly gone, replaced by an almost devastating honesty. “I have wanted you for a very long time, and i think this party might be the tipping point into insanity for me, because you look- you look like that, and you kissed me, and now you’re flirting back which is something i’ve never been able to handle.”

tango feels his mouth twitch into a grin. “well, i’ll tell you what, it’s amazing to be on the opposite end of all this.” he rubs his thumb against scott’s waist deliberately, smile widening ever so slightly as scott practically pouts at him. “don’t give me that look, I never get to be the flirty one.”

“it- it suits you.” scott says, and he’s breathless, and tango might also be going insane now he comes to think of it. “i’m- y’know, i’m perfectly happy to pretend this was all a series of drunken mistakes if-“

before scott can continue, tango once again lives up to his recently appointed middle name, and kisses him.

scott kisses back almost immediately, and tango finds himself leaning further into him as scott’s hands move to his hair and waist. tango, apparently, did not think this through, because last time his brain was reduced to mush without the insane knowledge that scott likes him back, which he’s still having a hard time processing. so when scott deepens the kiss, tango feels as if he may explode, and when scott nips ever so delicately at his bottom lip, tango melts.

it registers distantly in tango’s puddle of a brain that scott has managed to pin him against the wall as they’ve been kissing, and that at some point, he’s going to need some air. tango bites scott’s lip, relishing in the half stifled groan and shudder he elicits, and allows himself to forget about trivial things like breathing.

after a moment though, tango’s lungs begin to burn and they break apart, panting. tango is grinning, and scott’s bottom lip is bleeding, and tango probably should have remembered about his fangs.

“I would- I would very much appreciate if you didn’t pretend that was a mistake.” tango manages, and scott’s eyes glint.

“I wouldn’t dare.” he practically purrs, his breath hot against tango’s face.

there’s a explosion of noise from inside—loud enough for them to hear at a significant volume even outside. tango smirks at scott. “do you think they’ll miss us if we stay out here a little longer?”

scott’s lips twitch into a grin, leaning in so his nose brushes tango’s. “I think we have enough time for another round before they come looking.”

“let’s not waste it.” tango says, closing the gap.

—-

scott wakes up under an unfamiliar blanket, laying on what he’s fairly certain is not his own bed, where everything seems to smell like tango. he has no idea where he is and he doesn’t remember how he ended up here, which may not be the best sign. when he shifts in order to survey his surroundings, it takes a moment for him to realise that he hasn’t just been smashed in the head with an axe and that this is, in fact, the consequences of the far too much alcohol he had the night before.

he blinks against the faint light of the sun peeking through the cracks in the curtains and finds himself in a bedroom that is unmistakably tango’s. that explains why it smells like him, scott supposes.

before scott can fully take advantage of this (shoving his nose into the duvet for as long as he can get away with), a wonderfully familiar voice interrupts his train of thought.

“y’know, you’re even beautiful when you’re asleep. are you like- magic or something?”

scott sits up with great effort, smiling sleepily as he sees tango with two trays of what looks like cooked breakfast. “hey darling.”

tango blushes, laughing softly. “void, i’m never gonna get used to that.” he slides into bed next to scott, handing him his tray as he does.

“well, get used to it.” scott budges closer, pressing a kiss to tango’s cheek before tucking into his breakfast. “oh, you’re an angel.” he says through a mouthful of eggs.

tango is leaning against him. “did we talk about what we are now and I forgot, or did we just make out?”

scott snorts. “I think the latter.” he admits, gesturing to a distinctly bruise-ish looking mark on tango’s neck with his fork. “I did good work.” he says absentmindedly, laughing as a flustered tango elbows him.

“shut up, you look like you got attacked by a horny vampire.” tango says, and scott cackles. “oh- don’t make fun of me, i made you breakfast.”

“I think you just called yourself a horny vampire, love.” scott grins. “but do you wanna talk about what we are?”

tango shrugs in a way that very clearly means ‘yes but I don’t want to come off as clingy’. wow, scott can read him better than he thought. “I mean, what do you want us to be?”

“I personally want you to be my husband, but we gotta do the middle step before we can get there.” scott says simply, and tango looks like he’s just almost choked on his toast. “see, i’m far more clingy than you could ever be, dear.” he winks.

“I want you to be my partner.” tango says, a little nervous, as if scott was ever gonna say anything other than yes.

“then i’m yours.” scott presses a kiss to the corner of tango’s mouth. “I mean, I was yours the second you started wanting me, but I may as well make it official.” he grins at tango’s bewildered expression. “listen, i’ve loved you for a long time.”

tango gives a flustered little huff, grinning almost shyly. “you’re a fuckin’ siren, I was right about that.”

“i’m just being honest.” scott teases, but he can’t quite stop the blush rising on his cheeks. “besides, i’ve been wanting to say all this for a while now, so i’m not gonna shut up anytime soon.” a smirk slips onto his face. “unless you find a way to make me.”

tango rolls his eyes, but he looks extremely tempted. “it’s too early to make out with you. at least give me time to brush my teeth.”

“i’ll grant you that.” scott smiles, leaning closer to tango in order to press a kiss to his cheek. “but only because I love you.”

tango smiles, looking completely smitten. “I love you too.”

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

No one knows what species tango is. That’s not completely true, Zedaph somehow knows something about Tangos past and species, but that’s no help because the only elaboration he gives the other hermits is that Tango “came to this world from the nether.”

He’s sorta human but the red eyes and weird hair?? When he gets turned into the ice dungeon master everyone freaks out because they all assumed he was a blaze hybrid and now he’s the entire opposite.

The other hermits have tried to talk about it to Tango, but he just laughs it off and changes the subject whenever they bring up it up.

well, the blaze theory was somewhat close! blazes are fire elementals. Tango is half elemental himself, but the adaptability of his human half allows him to switch between elements. while living in the nether, he always kept himself as fire to handle the heat better and blend in with the resident blazes. after joining Hermitcraft, he just.... stuck with what he knew. until his frozen dungeon gave him the idea to try ice for a little while.

as for why he doesn't like talking about it, he's a little embarrassed being what he is. other elementals besides blazes are barely known. its just easier to let people think he's only fire, and its been so long that he feels awkward bringing up his sudden shift.

when the next update brings the breeze, i think he'd like hanging out with them. and maybe he'll try out being air.

-Mod Mleem

[fitzs-space]

I want to talk about all the details I put into the Ties comic cause I worked on that thing for like a week and my brain likes to think about many things

Anyway, pspspsps I'm info dumping about my own designs gather round.

Notes for the character designs themselves

-The colours show if they are Red/Yellow/Green are different per character. Tango with bright colours, Skizz's are cool and dark, Impulses are more yellow, and Ethos are more desaturated. -Not all characters in the Life Games will get colour indicators in their eyes, the fact 3/4 of the designs here have it is unimportant shut -Impulse has a heart knot in his tie!! Look at it!! -Impulse cannot tie a tie. Tango does it for him. -Tango having his tie undone is his own choice -The choice of them having/not having pupils is intentional. -Etho only has the one on one side, maybe its cause the red eyes a little fucky in the vision, who knows though -Impulse has i's in the eyes -Skizz just straight up doesn't have em, but I normally don't draw pupils with that iris shape anyway. something something normally only draw that iris style with certain magical characters -I just stopped drawing with Tango with iris' at some point, idk -Skizz is designed as a fallen angel. that's why the halo's are all separated/broken, and why you can see darker feathers growing -maybe Impulse used to help him dye them white cause of some insecurity, maybe not -the lower his lives go, the less dark feathers are seen in his wings. like a cruel joke the watchers get a kick out of

-mullet Skizz MULLET SKIZZ!!!!!

-Etho is a sentimental mf /pos. they will keep and make a lot of patches for memory's and stuff. notable patches are, The NHO patch, a creeper cause of general Spazz, Canada flag cause Canadian /j, I normally add rainbow ones for the button saga of s7 but forgot to this time. -the rings are from all their divorces /J -the colours on the rings correlate to their owners (Bdubs, Cleo, Joel) lives. ie will be red if one of them is red kinda thing.

think that's the most of the design thoughts, now the Details in the comic itself,,,

-Skizz is the kinda mf who would fiddle//stim with random things in his hands. Many times its other peoples hands -dude will just hold peoples hands randomly when talking to them, team Ties just got used to it -That's why Etho took so long to notice the bracelet!

-their ass isn't phased by this kinda stuff anymore /hj -Skizz just enjoys contact man let me be -Throughout most of the comic Skizz has some sort of contact with Etho

-Tango and impulse also end up giving Etho bracelets as well -All the bracelets Etho gets share their colour indicator + the colour form the person who made it!

-you can see the colours slowly shift when Skizz ties on the bracelet, something something the magic of the world does some shit sometimes man.

-Skizz taught Impulse how to make the bracelets, so they have similar styles, Skizz's is more of a simple braid style though. -Tango went for something that took longer to do. it is a little scuffed /pos

-Ethos been getting their ass handed to them the episode before this, had to rightfully reflect that. you know? /j -the Slashes across their chest where form when Gem/Cleo killed them twice in that one episode. -The bite was originally supposed to be cause of Scars dogs. But someone in a reply made a joke about it, and frankly I think it'd be funnier if it was cause of Joel or some shit like they said.

-Had the axe as more of a battle-axe style. It was something Impulse made for Skizz (I forget who actually made it//Didn't want to go back to check) -I like showing characters having specific styles/ways they make armor and tools. -It's fun to show characters with tools and armor that can be distinctly seen as being made by another player

-That being an axe Impulse made adds more weight to the narrative of this moment and I want people to cry -something something for Etho its a moment of taking a weapon that Impulse made to protect Skizz, and using that as the tool that finally kills him -For Skizz this is a moment of his trust and care for his teammates. Being surrounded by people that he cares about and tokens that show their love for each other.

-Suffer, I could have been angstyier, and I will be actualy.

-Skizz is the one putting the axe to his own neck in this moment. Etho is putting as little force into it as they can. -Red king parallels who- -Etho also gets cut by the axe, something about sacrifice and how no life/time can truly be free in these life games -The blood wasn't actually intended to be golden ichor, I was just lazy and didn't want to draw red blood// wanted to have the cool lighting effect -Etho has the same colour in their blood too so, take it as you will

-I've had this comic planed since EPICODE ONE. had full intentions for it to go angsty in the end, and dam if the narrative didn't play right into my grubby little hands.

-I also just love how well I could parallel the moments in this comic. the comparison of the pages where both their faces are visible? the Joy in ethos face turning to complete anguish? the fact Skizz never stopped smiling? the way both moments start with an outstretched hand, and end with Skizz still holding onto Etho in a moment of trust? beautiful

-all the pages in the second part of the comic were framed specifically so I could avoid drawing Skizz ass.

[crystaljellie]

I’m doing it I’m yapping.

Okay so my life series fantasy AU

Basically Joel and Jimmy were isekai’d into this fantasy world. Everyone else is already part of the world. Jimmy basically wake up with Grian standing over him (Grian is a parrot Avian in this as per usual) and Jimmy totally freaks out.

And all I know from there is that Jimmy and Grian overthrow Ren and Joel heads to the feywilds and meets Lizzie. Oh and flower husbands meet and kiss by a lake, I’m sure there will be angst I’m getting there

So now actually about the guys

Bdubs

Moss spirit

He lives in the forest and loves to cause chaos

But also he helps people get in an out of his forest because it’s dangerous at night

Being a moss spirit Bdubs body is basically just made up of moss

Bdubs and Grian have issues, and when I say issues Grian causes problems and Bdubs has to deal with the aftermath

BigB

BigB is a fae who lives outside of the fae wilds

He has a bakery in the main city of the kingdom Ren and Martyn rule

He frequently speaks to the royal order something something maybe suspicious things

He’s best friends with Tango who he met through Skizz

Etho

He’s an Arctic fox

He lives in the ice realms which are relatively near the southern realms which is where the kingdom is

Jimmy breaks into his house by accident at some point and Etho just is like

‘This guy is my kid now’

Jimmy has no idea how to escape forcibly assigned son

Scar

A desert elf (desert duo ref)

Scar used to live in the kingdom before moving to the desert realms with Grian (they’re boyfriends)

Scar is a falcon tamer, usually he just tames regular falcons but was called into the city square to deal with a particularly pesky boy which is how he meet Grian

He also still has a wheelchair but it has like magic powers, Scar used his desert elf powers to make it so his wheelchair can drive across sand.

Grian

A Parrot Avian

HE CAUSES PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE

He has little bird legs and he likes to fly onto Scars falcon brace

And he takes shiny things from shops in the kingdom

He’s the one who recommended Scar go back to the desert

Impulse

A Sun Imp

There are lots of different types of Imp’s

Depends which realm they were born it

Impulse was born in the sun realm

Martyn

He’s a wood elf

And he and Ren have issues

Ren and Martyn learn to stop tyrannic ruling

I’m gonna get the watchers involved somehow

He’s being given instructions and visions

He tries to follow them but it only leads to dead ends

Or death

Lizzie

She’s a Fae

And the High Queen of the fae

So she lives in the feywilds

Do her people lowkey kidnap Joel?

Yes but that’s a separate issue

Mumbo

He’s a vampire :3

But instead of drinking your blood he’s more like

Sunburns…

And can’t enter a building without permission

Sometimes you’ll just see Mumbo walking around with an umbrella

Everyone knows he’s a vampire

Sometimes they offer him blood he always says no though he thinks it’s rude of him

Skizz

Skizz is an angel

But he’s also the most unlucky person in the world

He was the first person to buy from Tangos shop and they became good friends because of that

Skizz is aware of the watchers due to his angel origins

Scott

Scott is actually a star born

But he disguises himself as a Sea elf

He lives in solitude behind a waterfall in a flower meadow

He has long elf ears and coral in his hair that looks like it’s arranged slightly like a flower crown

Starborns have the ability to take the magical abilities of their surroundings or their friends, so Scott has magical powers relating to water and flowers, but this can change based on his surroundings in which he can gain additional powers (Water and Flower related powers will not change because he’s lived in the meadow for so long)

Something with him and Acho (his brother) having an argument, causing them to split from each other and adorn disguises heading down to the over realm

Scott has spoken to the royal counsel before but they do not like each other which is why he did not choose to live in the city, He is courteous with them but only really visits the city to speak with Impulse who he made friends with while living in the city.

Starborns being a rarer and more hunted but also very powerful species and kept track of by the royal order so he was mainly there to fill out paperwork

Tango

Tango is a fireborn

Fireborn do not have parents they spawn from fire and are only found in the Nether realms (Not to be confused for the Nether World) At the age of 16 Fireborn creatures will leave the Nether realms to find a home for themselves. The only fireborn who reside pass the age of sixteen are those who are unable to leave or caretakers of fireborn young.

So when Tango was 16 he left to the southern arms to set up a mechanics shop

When Tango gets angry his fire hair goes blue

Tango also had a mechanical arm :3

Pearl

Pearl is a lunar moth

She and Grian are siblings

They cause problems together I love them

I sadly don’t have much for anyone else right now :(

I’m working on it, but they’re my sillies and I can’t wait to make this a fic it’ll be so fun

[glitchedmagic]

@theminecraftbee ‘s ficlets about Decked Out eating Tango have been living in my head rent free so here’s a little post-do thing of my own.

-

“The server resets tonight.”

It’s been just over two months since Decked Out finished. Just over two months since anyone has seen or heard from Tango.

Zed knows what happened. Not the details. And he certainly couldn’t explain it to anyone else. But he knows.

And the gnawing feeling of guilt has kept him coming back to the dungeon. Every day.

Decked Out is asleep. Zed can walk through the citadel without a desperate need to throw himself to the ravengers. He can even wander below, into the redstone, without being electrocuted to death. Maybe it’s dead, but Zed doubts it. He knows it’s just sleeping. Eventually, it will wake up. It will be hungry and will lure whoever enters this world into its depths.

Maybe that’s when Tango will wake up too.

Zed won’t be here to see it.

“Who knows when you’ll be able to eat again?”

His voice is quiet but he knows the whole dungeon can hear him. He plays with the clasp on his gas mask. Tango’s storage room, where he lays on the dusty floor, has enough oxygen flowing through it still to allow him to breathe without the mask, though he’s already getting a bit of a headache. He’ll put the mask back on soon. Eventually.

“One last snack?”

He’s offered the dungeon himself hundreds of times these past few months. As a player, when it was live, hoping to spark a bit of his friend’s life back into him. Then after. Hoping for something. For a glimpse of flickering blue flame and wide eyes that had long since given up pretending to see.

There’s quiet.

There’s so much guilt in the quiet.

Don’t worry, Zed. Just a few months. Not too big of a project.

All good here. With level one done, the rest will go a lot quicker.

Yeah, level three got away from me a bit. Level four will be smaller, don’t worry.

Audio needed to be reworked, you know how it is. Soon.

Just tired, lost track of time last night.

Not too much longer now.

Don’t worry, I’ll be back to normal when the game’s done. Promise.

Did Tango know he was lying?

Zed is well aware that what he’s doing isn’t good for him. It’s ironic, how Tango pulled away from everyone, to eventually disappear in this cave. And now Zed’s doing the same thing.

It was always Tango pulling Zed out. Into the sun for a stupid game or a ridiculous project.  So it makes sense that without him, Zed can’t bring himself to leave the hole.

“I could break more redstone.” Zed offers the dungeon. “Really get you mad.”

He’d done that. About two weeks after Decked Out went dormant. He hadn’t gotten a reaction at the time. But the next day, everything was repaired.

That had spurred Zed into doing a stakeout. Break some stuff, sit and wait until the dungeon brought Tango out to fix it.

Zed had died down in the redstone, waiting. It hadn’t been a pleasant death.

That’s when Impulse had stepped in, staging his own intervention. But all it had done is make Zed feel more guilty.

An intervention for the guy who failed to do an intervention when Tango needed it most.

See? Ironic.

His head is starting to pound. He puts his mask back on.

“I want my friend back, you stupid castle,” He says through the mask. The dungeon understands him anyways.

He won’t be getting Tango back. He’s known that for much longer than he can admit.

Time passes. His phone dings a few times. It’s just the others. Making preparations. The server resets in just a few hours.

“Was it worth it?” Zed asks. “Not you, dumb dungeon. I’m asking Tango. Was it worth it? Did you make this choice? Did you know the consequences?”

Silence.

“Did you ever consider saying goodbye?”

The thing is? Tango was saying goodbye. In the only way he could. It was in the heartfelt artifacts crafted for each hermit. It was in his own voice, echoing words throughout the dungeon long after his own voice left him. It was in every ounce of the game.

None of them saw it until it was too late.

Zed stands. He has to be at spawn soon. He has stuff to pack. He has his own hole in the ground to say goodbye to.

He takes the long way out. Up into the main room of the citadel.

There’s a small part of him that hopes to see a glint of Tango. That’s what’s supposed to happen, right? A little wisp of blue fire. A soft voice. A gust of wind blowing a loose piece of paper across the floor. Something he can look at and be comforted by.

Nothing happens.

Zed knows that Tango’s gone.

He stands at the door. It’s open just a crack, just like he left it.

The night is clear.

“Goodbye, Tango.”

[mochiwrites]

STOP I CANT WITH THIS MOCHI PLEASE 😭😭😭😭😭 pls more secret husbands 🥺 /nf

more secret husbands for you!! :D <3

season 9. ohhhh season 9.

grian loves scar’s elven tree. he also really loves his long hair <333 sometimes when he’s bored and they’re relaxing, grian will start braiding scar’s hair just because. scar always really enjoys it, he gets really relaxed and becomes jello against grian

god the looty and booty conversations… scar calls grian’s booty “adequate” one time as a joke and this man Never lets scar live it down. “gonna say it adequate again, dearest?” “griaaaan, it was one time! you know I love your beautiful booty! it’s amayzin’!”

I. Cannot believe I just wrote those words. ANYWAYS

they do the villager stuff with tango, and poor tango is third wheeling the Whole time. by now they know their friends are trying to set them up together, so their goal to mess with them is in effect. rip tango

the diamond pillar war… the fact that it started between scar and grian is so ???? look, they’re grossly in love and are absolute sweethearts. but they’re also the most competitive bastards with each other. it’s a part of their love language

scar has accompanied grian on many diamond hunting trips so he can make his tower bigger, and vice versa

when the hotguy thing starts… everyone is incredibly surprised by how accurate of a shot scar is — with the exception of grian, who knows how scar even got those accurate shooting skills. I think there’s a moment where he checks in with scar, just to make sure he’s okay and it feels alright. which has scar melting, pulling grian in by his waist and kissing his forehead, “I’m feeling a-okay, sweetheart. thank you for checking”

grian is very quickly exasperated by hotguy

when they go to the end together and scar kills him, he feels horrible. he didn’t mean for grian to lose all his stuff! he immediately heads home to meet grian in the overworld and help him with whatever he needs. he kinda follows grian around like a kicked puppy — except he’s the one who kicked himself. grian, while annoyed and a bit frustrated, takes scar’s face in his hands and promises that it’s alright, give him a few minutes to cool off

after their end busting trip there is a very long cuddle session

when grian starts having issues making progress on his mega base, he hides out in scarland a lot more. in fact, they’re in scarland for most of the season. the main reason is because grian wants to experience as much of scar’s dream with him as he can, and scarland is more polished and complete than grian’s rocks are

when building the scarland castle, scar consults grian a lot for block palettes, gradients, general building ideas. grian is his personal cheerleader through the whole thing

grian is also really clingy with scar while mumbo is off world. outside of scar, mumbo is very close with grian. after he crashed into mumbo’s redstone world, the two of them bonded a lot. they almost instantly became best buds. mumbo is grian’s second emotional support guy. he’s also been a constant in grian’s life since he joined hermitcraft (something he’s not used to having outside of scar) so grian misses him a lot, and with a member of his flock gone, he gets clingier with the others

scar doesn’t mind all that much, he loves a clingy grian — he’s always told grian not to be afraid to ask for things with him, and grian being clingy is a result of that. it makes scar happy to see (and maybe after losing him for two years or so, scar is a little clingy too)

grian bounces building ideas around with scar whenever he gets stuck on his base. sometimes the two of them will go there together and see what they can throw around

THE FUED WITH DOC…. it’s really funny because these two really are each other’s worst enablers. scar hasn’t been sleeping because he’s been stressing with building and hiding it so grian doesn’t worry about him. but that’s thrown out the window during grian’s intervention with his base. and then they’re flying to doc’s tunnel bore and oh god they’re in so much trouble. they hide together in scarland and start making evacuation plans to hide in their apartment in hypixel

and I’ll end this with: in between every season, with the exception of the jump between season 8 and 9, the two of them go back to their hypixel apartment with jellie and spend their breaks there <3