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jellieland · 5 months

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"Well, that was fun!" says Jimmy.

"Oh, was it?" says Grian, grumpily. He's on top of the mountain, assessing the damage from Martyn's end crystal. It's blown up part of the bed shrine, which might actually be more of a loss than the twenty-two hearts of damage it did to him. "You did seem to be enjoying making me do completely ridiculous stuff, don't think I didn't notice that."

"It was pretty funny though," says Jimmy. "Remember when you got Cleo and Etho to spin in circles for no reason?"

"...Okay, that was pretty funny," Grian admits.

"Ooh, and when you got them to do the zombie dance," says Jimmy.

Grian shakes his head. "I can't believe no one said anything." He frowns at the place where the wolf spawner used to be.

"Yeah, pretty crazy right?" says Martyn.

Grian spins round and flinches back, letting out a shriek.

Martyn is leaning casually up against one of the trees, watching him. "Honestly Grian, I think maybe you need to reevaluate your life if Timmy controlling all your actions didn't set off any red flags with anyone," he says.

"You couldn't have let me know that was coming, Tim?" asks Grian, exasperated, staring up into the empty sky.

Jimmy is quiet for a moment longer than Grian expected. "Say hello to Martyn," he says.

"You know I don't have to do what you say anymore, right?" says Grian. "I'm fact, maybe I'll do the opposite of what you say."

"Hey, no!" cries Jimmy.

Martyn makes a quiet noise, and Grian's gaze snaps back to him. "Oh no, don't let me interrupt," he says airily.

Grian clears his throat. "...Hey, Martyn," he says awkwardly.

"Hello, Martyn," says Jimmy softly, as though Martyn will be able to hear him.

"Hello," says Martyn. He looks around, up into the sky. "Timmy still about, then?"

"Maybe," says Grian. "Why? I'm not about to pass notes for your tearful reunion, if that's what you're here for."

"Aww," says Jimmy. "Why not?"

"No," says Martyn. "You need to get rid of him."

"Hey!" cries Jimmy. "Wait, what-"

"Whatever this is," continues Martyn, "it needs to stop."

"It's not up to me," says Grian, narrowing his eyes. "I don't see what you're so upset about, though."

"You don't?" says Martyn, coolly. "Look at you. Like you're dragging his corpse around to parade before the entire server."

"I am not!" snaps Grian. "And frankly I resent the suggestion!"

"Oh yeah?" says Martyn. "What do you think you were doing, then?"

Grian glares at him. "A task!"

"Right, yeah, course." Martyn glares back. "And why'd you think the session was so calm, huh?"

Grian frowns, thrown off. "I- Wait, what?"

"What do you mean, what?" snaps Martyn. "You're the one who brought the canary back to haunt us!"

"Haunt me, you mean! And anyway, he didn't even die first this time, that was Lizzie."

"It's not just about dying first," says Martyn. "It's about what comes after. He dies, and then it all goes wrong. Everything falls apart."

"I don't know, dude, I'm doing alright." Grian shrugs.

"And then he comes back," continues Martyn pointedly, "and on a server full of reds and yellows, not a single person properly dies. You don't think that's weird?"

Grian considers, but not for long. "I don't know," He crosses his arms. "I think you're just twisting the narrative to suit what you think it should be."

"Oh, really?" Martyn scoffs. "And what does Jimmy think?"

Grian rolls his eyes. "Alright fine, Timmy, what do you think?"

There is silence.

"...Tim?" says Grian.

There is more silence.

"Well?" asks Martyn, eventually.

"I think he's gone," says Grian.

"Gone," says Martyn flatly.

"Yep," says Grian, suddenly nervous.

"Gone?" Martyn raises his voice. He looks up to glare at the clouds. "Are you serious?"

"Look," says Grian. "I don't know what you actually wanted to talk about, but-"

"Really? I had one person! One!" Martyn shouts at the sky. "And you took him, too? He was dead before! He was already dead, and then you gave him to someone else, and then you took him, again?!"

Grian shifts nervously. He's not entirely sure that Martyn's talking to him, but- "I didn't do it on purpose! It's a task, Martyn, come on! It's random chance!"

Martyn turns abruptly to look back at Grian. "It's not random." He says. His hand goes to his sword, and Grian suddenly feels rather unsafe. "It's not random. It's never random."

"Okay," says Grian, slowly inching back and away. That doesn't sound right, but it doesn't seem like the time to argue.

"You think this isn't planned?" snaps Martyn. "You think this isn't just more and more ways to mess with us? Over and over and over again?"

Grian think they mess with themselves pretty well already, but he isn't about to say that right now. He opens his mouth to respond, and-

"Grian?" Cleo's voice—oh, thank goodness. Cleo's voice carries up from the base below. "You alright up there?"

Martyn and Grian make eye contact.

"I'm good, Cleo! Could use some help, though, if you want to come up?" calls Grian.

"Kay, be there in a minute!" Cleo shouts.

Martyn narrows his eyes. "I'll see you at the end," he murmurs. "This won't last much longer."

"Probably not," Grian replies, just as quiet. "It never does."

Martyn turns to go.

Before he leaves, Grian sighs. "Jimmy told me to say hello," he says, some foolish sense of obligation forcing out the words.

Martyn pauses, but doesn't look back. After a moment, he vanishes into the trees.

Grian looks at the aftermath of the exploded end crystal. The broken shrine. The scars on his hands.

"It never does last," he says again. "Not when people do stuff like that."

#secret life spoilers #secret life smp #jimmy solidarity #grian #martyn inthelittlewood #my writing

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dmwrites · 5 months

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The site of Jimmy’s grave was a bit more damaged then it had been before. There were craters all over the land from the wither- a damn wither, really Grian and Etho?

Cleo opened the chest that had been Jimmy’s makeshift coffin, pulled out the bit of rotten flesh she’d put in to represent him. She brushed the squishy lump off and lifted her shirt slightly, slapping the flesh back onto her torso. It was a wet sound, and she was kind of disappointed that no one else was around to be disgusted by that.

Cleo wondered how long after Jimmy’s death could she start calling herself a psychic for having him attend his own funeral on the same day that he did, in fact, die. She put a hand on the gravestone she’d made- poor bastard, she thought to herself.

There were footsteps behind her, and she turned to see Joel approaching her.

“Hello, Cleo.”

“Hi Joel.”

“What are you doing?”

“I was just cleaning up from the funeral.”

A silence fell between them. Cleo shot a look at Joel. He held his bow loosely in his grip, staring at the gravestone. Cleo did some quick mental math. Of everyone on the server, it really must have been Joel that had lost the most. His wife. His ally. Whatever odd homoerotic thing Jimmy and Joel had going on all the time. She had heard his screams of Jimmy and Mumbo’s names as they’d perished- they’d both died right in front of everyone. Anguished cries that no one even had the time to acknowledge in the chaos.

Cleo wanted to walk away. She really did- hell, she and Joel were on opposite sides of the spectrum at this point- he’d lost so many, and Cleo had her two idiot allies back at home, green and happy and alive. Why on earth would she possibly care about anyone other than her own allies?

She sighed. She didn’t walk away.

“I’m sorry, Joel, for your losses today.”

“Doesn’t matter- was bound to happen anyway.” Joel spoke in a deeply bitter tone, like he was trying and failing to spit acid.

“Alright, play the emotionally unavailable guy, see if I care.” Cleo did make to move away, but Joel spoke again, softer now.

“Why did they have to die, Cleo?”

“We all will, probably sooner rather than later, Joel.”

“But why them? Mumbo and Jimmy and… Lizzie.” Joel’s name caught on the word Lizzie, and his face crumbled. Cleo watched him as he stepped forward, putting a hand on the gravestone. “Could you leave this up, Cleo? It would be nice for… some people on the server to be able to visit every once in a while.”

Cleo decided not to tell Joel that she’d planned on leaving the gravestone up so she could gloat about guessing that Jimmy would die.

“Sure, Joel.” Cleo said, and her heart felt like it was twisting horribly as she watched Joel sag against the cold stone, hand pressed to the sign with Jimmy’s name. She walked forward, softly, and etched Lizzie and Mumbo’s names into the wooden sign.

“You… take all the time you need. Or anyone else who needs to… mourn.”

She took a few steps away, then stopped and turned around again. Joel was tracing the letters of Lizzie’s name now, over and over again. Cleo lowered her gaze and continued walking away- it felt indecent to watch.

#aaand another one #lol #secret life smp #zombiecleo #smallishbeans

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darkaviarymc · 5 months

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"What kind of skill set do you not currently have, but wish you did have?"

Joel's answer to Pearl's question was gardening. He wants to sew seeds and watch beautiful plants grow.

And then.

He code named himself "The florist." He dubbed himself as one who creates displays of lovely flowers.

And then.

He got the Wither rose created by Jimmy's death. Jimmy, who he had dug from his preemptive grave, saying "rise" as the Red Life rose from the pit.

Joel dug Jimmy from his grave. Jimmy didn't die first.

LIZZY DIED FIRST.

Lizzy. His wife. His love, who, once upon a time, gave her life in the defeat of a Wither... and created a Wither rose.

Joel had been a gardener, had been a florist, once before, and he didn't even realize it.

And now he is again. Here, without his wife, holding the flower that is now all that's left of the man he'd risen from the grave, the man whose curse his wife was doomed to break.

#slsmp #secret life spoilers #joel smallishbeans #ldshadowlady #100 hours smp #trafficblr

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kingjullian-3 · 4 months

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This was a season of curses being broken. Jimmy through a technically was not the first to die. Grian as far as I’m aware did not kill or be the direct cause for an allied death. None of Scott’s allies this season won.

Lizzie was the first to die. Forgotten by the watchers, left to suffocate in the thin air of the void. Her death had been a complete accident not many people even noticed or felt sorry. Her death also wasn’t the start of chaos, but neither was Jimmy’s. He died during the chaos, and a watchers last ditch effort to see through a curse that shouldn’t have lasted.

Grian didn’t have many allies this season. The only real ones being Cleo and Etho. Every other season he has had a strong alliance almost the entire season. This time? It really wasn’t till session 4/5 when he made any real connections. However he still trusted Etho and Cleo as if they had been his allies the whole season, stayed with them despite his history. Everyone knows of Grian’s Icarus curse, doomed to cause a ally to fall. But they stood by him, never dying as a cause of him.

It’s common knowledge that in every other season, the winner had somehow been connected with Scott. The Flower Desert Alliance, Scott himself, Pearl was his soulmate, Martyn had been the other Mean Gill. Yet Scar never really had any real connection to Scott. Sure they got along, but I wouldn’t call that an alliance. Scar turned his back on anyone who sided with him in a way.

This season was more about healing than anything else. Curses were broken, more than just those 3. Joel didn’t have his signature red bloodlust (as far as I know). It’s also important to note the implication regarding the forgotten duo as I’ll call them.

Lizzie and Grian were both forgotten in a way. No-one showed up to Lizzie’s birthday party, A single person really cared that she had died. Lizzie has been forgotten by everyone. The watchers, listeners, and players alike. This ultimately lead to her unfortunate demise, trying to fill out a task given to her by Joel.

“He was never meant to be there, he was only ever meant to watch” that line alone sums up almost the entirety of Grian this season, especially session 7. During the curse of the boogey, they only thought of Scott and Cleo. Sure he was mentioned in passing, but no one ever really looked for him. Etho realised that Grian had been forgotten when he looked to the sky and saw the changed platform. His way of apologising was by letting Grian complete his task freely.

Grian watched carefully from the safety of the cobblestone tower as the rest of the server was in chaos. Hunting for allies and enemies alike. Never once looking up to the skies. Just as a watchers should be. Watching. Never getting involved and forgotten to do his own thing. Perhaps THEY had successfully done one thing this season after all

#grian #goodtimeswithscar #pearlescentmoon #ldshadowlady #life series #secret life #jimmy solidarity #martyn inthelittlewood #dangthatsalongname #scott smajor #this season made me so ill #AAAAAAAAA #I love how poetic the ending truely was

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padfootdaredmetoo · 3 months

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Tommy x wife reader: Charlie and Ruby are theirs (no grace or lizzie) and they have a few other children, in order of their ages: Charles (Charlie) James (Jamie) Edward (Teddie) Ruby (Ru)

And just after Ruby dies and Tommy finds out he’s dying, his wife finds out she is pregnant again and she is just traumatised by it as she’s lost her only daughter and her aunt-in-law and about to lose her husband too

But Tommy doesn’t die and they have a baby girl, who they name Rose Elizabeth, because Ruby loved roses and after Polly and they nickname her Posy as a portmanteau of Rosy and Polly

Hey Love,

Sorry it took forever. This one is pretty sad and I really enjoyed writing it. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Peaky Themes, Childbirth, Child death, grieving.

Not a single dull day had passed in Arrow House. It was always loud as the children ran around causing chaos. Today was so silent you could drop a tack in the kitchen and hear it in the attic.

You lay on the floor of your youngest daughter's room. Your little girl. The grief clenched in your chest and you felt your heart miss a beat as your body twisted in on itself. You’d never felt such a loss in your life.

Now you have a baby in your stomach, your husband is going to die leaving you with three boys. You knew you should be with him, enjoy his presence while you have him here amongst the living.

How could you worry about anything after watching your daughter slip from the world just a day ago? You remember holding her hand and singing to her. Thomas holding it together just until her eyes fluttered closed before falling apart in a way you didn't think him capable of.

You sat there silently. Something deep inside you felt at peace. She was safe where she was. Polly was with her. Knowing something deep in your soul had never taken away from the way your brain and body worked.

Your body hadn’t stopped shaking since it happened. Your limbs vibrating as you lay on her pink carpet. You felt discarded like all the stuffies and dolls that lay on the floor around you. Without her to come and breathe life into you, you would stay on the carpet like a doll.

Teddie was the first person to find you. His small body came and curled up against your side. The warmth of him seeped into your icy body.

A mother could only stop being a mother once she had no children left. And you had three. This moment of sadness and grief couldn't go on for the eternity you felt it needed. You had boys to wrangle. Little Ruby adored her brothers and you knew she wouldn't ever forgive you if you let them down.

With the strength of a British Mum, you brushed the tears off your cheeks with the side of your hand. You sat up even though every selfish part of you screamed to lay back down on that carpet. To rot away to a place where you could hold her again.

“Hey, Teddie.” You whispered running a hand down the small boy’s back.

“Mum I’m hungry.” He mumbled.

“Teddie! Dad said we have to leave her alone.” Charlie was in the doorway, with his arms crossed. His tone was angry and you could swear he looked years older than the last time you saw him.

“Darling, never leave me alone.” You said giving him a serious look. His face faltered slightly as he took in your words. “I’m still a mum. And mum’s make dinner, let’s go. Into the kitchen.”

Teddie was happy and you picked him up even though he was far too big for that now. Walking down the hallway, Charlie surprised you when he opened Jamie’s door.

You sat Teddie on his favorite spot on the counter and started getting out various pots and pans.

“She’s up.” He said and your middle boy came into the hallway. Silently the four of you made it into the kitchen. Grief was creeping in all the shadows of the room as Charlie made a fire.

“Ruby isn't coming home is she?” Teddie asked. Charlie let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose in the way only the eldest child could.

“No, she’s with Aunt Polly now. They live in the sky.” Jamie answered softly. You gripped the edges of the pot tightly as you pushed down the intense feelings threatening to overflow again.

The window opened and you could hear her voice on the wind that whipped around your face.

Keep Going.

That’s what you did. Death be dammed you’d made a deal with God to sacrifice and survive for these boys and that’s what you would do.

With a cracking heart you closed the window and looked around the kitchen at the boy's stunned faces.

“Please tell me you heard that as well right?” Charlie said with wide eyes.

______________________________________________________________

One dinner down a lifetime left to go.

The weeks turned into a month and the pain did not relent. You had no moments of peace only the love felt by shared grieving. Esme was always around now. All the kids lumped together in Arrow House like the days of the Changretta feud. She made sure your hair got brushed and your outfits matched.

Arthur came around every day. He kept Tommy together while they worked out all this conflict. He feels a war is coming and you couldn't imagine it could be anything worse than the one raging in your mind. Alfie stops by and tells you things that confirm it will be much worse.

Three boys, and a war.

You put your make-up on so you have a reason not to cry during the day.

You spend every evening with Tommy. You know what he is doing is important. It could change the outcome for the rest of the families on the planet. So you sacrifice your time with him and survive on the couch reading. When really you just stare into the fire wishing everything would burn up to be reborn as something new.

Three boys and one more undetermined in your stomach. Your hand rested there often. You expected to lose the baby so you didn't really think about it. If they did come into this world you prayed it would be before Tommy passed. Grieving with a baby in your stomach would be easier than grieving with a newborn. But you wanted them to meet their father, even if it was for a fleeting moment. You would suffer and survive.

Tommy finally got over himself and got a second opinion. He hated doctors and you expected him to be in a foul mood when he got back from a series of appointments in London. Alfie accompanied him back and you placed a plate of biscuits and cups of tea on the kitchen table. The kitchen was for family, but Alfie somehow managed to get an invitation out of Tommy. You were always happy to see him, but were wary of the news he often brought these days. You took a seat and he grabbed your hand and held it. Your mind flashed back to the good old days when something so small would have sent Tommy after him in a rage.

Alfie knew better than to ask how you were keeping. Tommy finally sat down at the head of the table, he looked pale. Too pale to drive, which explains why Alfie had come back with him.

“I’m not sick.” His eyes closed and he leaned back against the chair.

“What?” You whispered.

“The f-uck-ing doctor was working for that stupid mustache piece of shit,” Alfie said his voice was venomous but his smile was unshakeable.

“You're not going to die.” Your eyes moved to Tommy and he shook his head.

“Going to have to wait a while longer to steal you away, love.” Alfie's voice was all humor now, but he knew it was time to let go of your hand when Tommy flashed him a look. The look of the old Tommy.

“I’m pregnant.” You blurted out.

“Looks like I dodged a bullet. Last thing I wanted to be raising up another little Shelby brat.” Alfie was laughing and Tommy smiled. A genuine smile.

You were happy, and then the brutal deafening sadness crashed down on you. The sheer panic of having a child hits again and the nausea has you throwing your head back in the sink. Tommy is there pulling your hair up.

“Like she would ever go for you,” Tommy said easily taking a sip of tea.

“Shit,” Alfie says from the counter near you. He gets a glass for Tommy to fill with water.

____________________________________________________________

You told Esme and you both held on to each other as you cried.

“I never thought I would say this but thank God Tommy will be alright.” She shook her head as the words strangled her. “You’ll never have to know what it’s like to raise em up with out their father.”

You both cried on the kitchen floor for a long while.

_________________________________________

The time came and you had high blood pressure meaning you had to do things in the hospital. Something that made everything a thousand times more painful. But that was your baby, and you would sacrifice and they would survive.

They kept trying to medicate you and Esme kept throwing nurses out of the room screaming at them in Romani when English wasn't scary enough. In the thick of it you kept crying out for Polly.

You didn't want these strangers to help you. They didn't care about you or your baby. They weren't family. Arthur came and spoke to Esme in the doorway for a moment. You expected news that Tommy wouldn't make it in time or that something worse had happened.

Instead, Esme handed you one of Polly’s rosaries to hold. You gripped the cold crystal beads and felt yourself split apart over all the reasons you were crying.

Tommy showed up and commanded the room with Esme. The window blew open letting cold air around the room and you could feel her love for you.

You gave birth to a little girl.

There were no pictures taken as you bawled. You got her latched on to your breast and cried and cried. The nurses kept pushing for sedation but Esme started at them and Tommy pointed towards the door. Arthur came in and read a passage from his bible for you. You're not sure why exactly but it helped. It felt like a blessing that this baby would be alright.

_______________________________________________

You brought her home the same night, itching to get out of the hospital. You carried her in and watched all your boys get excited. You handed her off to Charlie first.

“I love it when they look like grumpy old men,” Jamie said with a smile, Teddie let out a loud laugh.

“She does look like an old man.”

“What did you name her?” Charlie asked his finger tracing down the slope of her nose.

“Rose Elizabeth,” Tommy said sitting next to him placing his arm around his eldest son.

“Posy then,” Charlie said with a sense of finality.

Charlie, Jamie, Teddie, and Posy. Your heart was happy and sad at the same time.

Jamie came round and put his arm around you.

“Love you mum.” He whispered and you wondered when he got old enough to kiss the top of your head. The boys were strong like their father, and you had no doubts they were strong enough to carry you and Posy.

_______________________________________________________________

This chunk of time was easier than it was with the other four kids. Tommy took time off. Churchill had other moves he wanted to play and for now, Tommy wasn’t involved.

He’d sit while you breastfed in the night, he’d change nappies, and read stories. You watched him be a girl dad again and the pain was harsh and beautiful at the same time.

Esme helped you take down Ruby’s room. The idea of moving one of the boys to a different floor or wing of the house made your skin itch. Ruby’s room needed to be emptied.

You aired the room out and you knew that she would be happy about giving it to her sister. Esme assured you at every turn that she wouldn't be angry at you.

_______________________

Eventually Arrow House moved on. Posy was very attached to the idea she had both an Aunt and a sister in the sky watching over her.

The war came and what was left of the family did what they had to do. Thankfully Posy was there with you so you were never alone.

Thankfully when it was all over all your boys came home to you.

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #dad tommy shelby #peaky blinds fic #peaky blinders request

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defty-picklez · 6 months

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If Scar was to win (ScarsweepScarsweepScarsweep) I think he should be the Earth. Grian and Scare are so Sun and Earth coded. The Sun and the Earth circle around each other, Sun will kill the Earth eventually but he stays. The Sun flares but he stays.

The Sun gives warmth, the Sun burns. The Earth is charismatic and beautiful, the Earth kills and consumes. Scar-Icarus parallels from 100hours fits so well too.

He has green eyes and Convex based of of vexes are blue and ofc the brown hair. It's also a funny to think that the guy who symbolizes the Earth is a capitalist. Cub can be Kepler and should be in my opinion.

Mumbo could be Black holes. No explanation.

I think Tango would be Comets, the visual of his fire hair fits and I feel like there's probably some symbolism but I don't watch Tango that much sorry.

Joel needs to be Jupiter because of his inspiration from Zeus. Bigbeans being the biggest planted is also funny.

Also, if Grian is the Sun then how about Bdubs? The next best thing I could think of is either Time or Light. Personally I think he should be Time, it's thematic. If I remember correctly, he's killed people because of clocks, the moment he gets the clock someone's death is inevitable. Time makes death inevitable.

So Etho is the Void right? Like canonically if I remember correctly? I'm not sure. So like the Void/Space? Etho and Bdubs being Space/Void and Time is cool.

Cleo is fit to be Death, no explanation too.

Bigb being Mercury would be funny because Mercury is the god of communication and he gaslights gatekeeps and girlbosses. He's also closest to the Sun so blud gets burnt like a cookie.

So like- Neptune the god is related to Jupiter the god but we're NOT PUTTING that in the symbolism here. Anyways, Lizzie could be Neptune because of her being the blue axolotl in Empires season 1 because Neptune is related to the sea.

Maybe Gem could be Pluto because she's new?

Jimmy, canary boy, he was fated to die so maybe that's his thing. Fate itself was Fated to die. Also, fortune telling by using the stars, Astromancy, is a thing so Flower Husband fans there you go.

Ight, hear, me, out. Skizz. As Venus. Because love island. Think about it.

Sorry I really don't know what for Ren and Impulse. Please tell me if you have any ideas, I would love to hear them.

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wren-kitchens · 3 months

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it was not your fault but mine

in which joel tries to kill scott and ends up having a panic attack. (3641 words)

content warnings: panic attacks, lots of mentions of death

i’m being so normal about traffic scott and joel rn guys

joel’s breath is coming too fast and too shallow for him to be able to convince himself that he’s fine, even as it tears at his throat. tears blur and warp his vision, welling up in his eyes faster than joel’s ability to wipe them away with his sleeve. his ribs threaten to crack against his heart, hammering against the inside of his chest like it’s trying to escape. joel can’t blame it.

it’s been hours- okay, it’s been four stupid hours, and he still can’t calm himself down from today’s events. everyone else has been able to sleep, to rest, to patch themselves up and recuperate with their team- or what’s left of it. everyone else is fine, they’re all fine, and they’re going to be fine until they die in whatever unjust, careless death they can’t escape anymore.

for the past four hours (four fucking hours- it’s so stupid-) joel has been failing to get a firm grip on the last remaining threads of his sanity. he thought he was fine- he thought he was safe from that bloodlust, that agony, that grief. but as always, the looming threat of his inevitable breakdown hangs over his head like an anvil-

(mumbo tried to turn on them, mumbo tried to send them to their graves with anvils, mumbo failed and then he died-)

not an anvil. just- anything but an anvil. dripstone- hangs over his head like dripstone-

(joel can see the spot where lizzie dropped dripstone on his head, lizzie dropped it on him because he was the last resort, lizzie was here and joel asked her to hurt scott, and she tried and was killed-)

scratch that metaphor entirely.

just- void, he’s so tired of waiting for that snap, of fearing what will inevitably make something inside of him break and lose himself in the grief-fuelled bloodlust. maybe dying first wouldn’t be so bad; you don’t have to watch as everyone else leaves you.

even through his yellow sanity, joel’s mind seems to be on its way out, and he finds himself wanting to give in. just give in- kill some people, lose a battle and die in a crushingly painful way. it’s easier, isn’t it, than trying to hold onto the threads that slice at his hands once he has a secure hold. besides, if he dies, he can be with them again.

before he even registers the action, joel finds himself gripping his axe with a kind of determination he hasn’t felt in a little while. sure, he’s yellow, but he can’t imagine the big winged fuckers getting too pissy if he went and killed someone. he’s just starting the party early, after all.

joel seems to be zoning in and out, as moments later, he finds himself treading the well-known path to scott’s, knowing that- well. if he’s going to kill anyone, it may as well be scott, right?

smug, crude, stupid scott; who stood by and watched as lizzie was flung into the void, who laughed as joel failed his tasks, who has either won or almost won three out of four of these stupid games. he deserves to be knocked down a peg or four, really. it’s only fair.

out of the corner of his eye, however, joel spots scott’s nametag behind the secret keeper’s statue. oh, of fucking course. scott ‘30-full-hearts’ smajor just couldn’t resist a chance to show off by walking around in the dead of night, huh? piece of shit- like he doesn’t even care that he just let lizzie die.

well, if scott wants to play with fire, he ought to know he’s going to get burned.

he’s making a fucking grotto.

scott smajor, winner of one of these stupid games, top three in all games but one, is out in the middle of the night after a wither and warden fight, building a goddamn magic grotto underneath the secret keeper statue. of fucking course he is- fucking show off.

joel watches with utter distain as he prances about with his stupid azalea bushes and his stupid moss and- where the hell did he even get moss in the first place?! honestly, does he not realise this is a death game? they don’t have time to be making places pretty.

finally- finally, scott backs up against one of the stone walls, surveying his stupid pond like it actually means anything. joel creeps along the shadows, the (surprisingly still alive) grass muffling his careful steps towards scott- towards where joel is going to put an axe through his stupid throat and kill him.

“is this really worth the time?” joel says, because he has to- he can’t let scott have all the stupid quips and one-liners, because he would just go insane.

joel might already be insane.

scott looks up, eyes widening in fear as they land on joel’s figure. his whole body lurches away, but joel is too quick—in an instant, joel is in front of scott, pinning him against the wall with the blade of his axe pressed against scott’s throat. joel grins; all manic eyes and sharp teeth and the sweet smell of blood on his breath.

“looks like someone wanted to push his luck, huh scott?” joel says—and even he can admit he sounds a little hysterical now—but scott is trembling, eyes darting all over to find a way out, and that’s all joel cares about right now. “got a little big for our boots on our midnight stroll?”

“joel-“ scott gasps, and even his voice is shaking. “please-“

and- okay, it’s not exactly what joel was expecting. don’t get him wrong- he loves the fear and the trembling and the pleading, but- it’s weird. scott doesn’t fear joel, and he especially doesn’t plead with him, and- now that he’s actually looking at scott, the guy seems kind of- well, pathetic seems too cruel a word. disheveled. weakened. whatever.

“what’s wrong with you?” joel spits, looking him up and down with a distinct sinking feeling in his chest.

the tips of scott’s fingers—currently grasping at the axe’s handle—are a poisonous black, tendrils spidering up his veins. he looks exhausted, as if he’s been up all night, but- scott isn’t that dumb to have not slept. as irritating as it is, scott is a survivor, a strategist. he wouldn’t be in this state if there wasn’t something wrong.

“wither.” scott manages, and joel can’t pretend to himself that he didn’t know- “what’s wrong with you.”

joel’s rage seizes him like a fist again, and he shoves the axe further into scott’s throat. “nothing’s wrong with me you piece of- who the fuck do you think you even are? coming here, middle of the night, flaunting your thirty goddamn hearts-“

“half a heart.” scott breathes, and joel’s mind goes searingly blank.

“what?” joel’s voice is infuriatingly quiet.

scott’s hands have stopped clawing at the hilt of the axe. when did that happen? “i’m- i’m on half a heart.”

“you’re- no you’re not.” joel half mutters because- he can’t be. scott was going to die a long and painful death by his hand, but if he’s going to fall the second blood is drawn- what’s the point? “no, you’re- you’re not.”

“why do you even care?” scott says. “you’re going to kill me anyway.”

“i don’t.” joel says, far less certain than he ought to be. “I don’t care, i’m- i’m happy.”

“tell your face that.” scott mutters.

joel slams his fist against the wall, inches from scott’s face, practically breathing smoke. “you can shut the fuck up, or i’ll kill you where you stand.”

“oh, so you came here and put an axe to my throat because you wanted to protect me?” scott sneers, and- this is all wrong- how has scott gotten the upper hand? joel is threatening to kill him, and scott has the goddamn upper hand.

and it’s so easy- it’s so easy. push the axe in, slide it across scott’s skin and slit his throat. he’d be dead in an instant—it’d barely take a second—it’s so easy. the axe is firm in his grip, there’s no danger of someone interrupting, scott is far too weak to push him off and get away- it’s all so fucking easy.

there’s something distantly satisfying about the way scott flinches as joel gives a scream of frustration, flinging the stupid axe across the goddamn secret grotto. it sticks in the muddy banks of the river at an odd angle, sinking ever so slightly as the earth gives way.

he can’t do it.

he can’t fucking do it.

joel’s breath is coming too shallow again, tearing at the inside of his lungs as he gasps against this invisible force that seems to be sucking the wind from every breath he takes. tears burn in his eyes and it’s only after joel notices how damp the knees of his trousers have become that he realises he’s dropped to the ground, hyperventilating.

is this what a panic attack is? joel is pretty sure this is a panic attack. he is having a panic attack. how does he stop having a panic attack?

he tries desperately to slow his breathing, to straighten up and pretend it never happened, but his thoughts clamour inside his mind far too loudly for him to even begin to calm down. lizzie dead, jimmy dead, mumbo dead- joel nearly killed scott. what if he had done it- what if he killed someone else? there’s too much death, joel can’t be the cause of another death. joel nearly killed scott. lizzie is dead because of scott-

no- lizzie is dead because of joel. he let her- he didn’t tell her he failed- she tried to kill scott and then she died and now she’s gone and joel killed her just like he was about to kill scott and he still can’t fucking breathe-

there’s a hand on his shoulder (he can’t breathe-), squeezing gently through the fabric of joel’s hoodie (lizzie is dead-). scott is saying something- scott is telling him to look at him, and joel thinks his hands are going numb.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t-” joel’s voice is nothing but a broken whisper. he can barely hear himself over the rush of blood in his ears, the taste of iron in his mouth. “I can’t-“

“it’s okay.” scott is saying and he’s wrong because it’s not okay- it’ll never be okay. “you’re okay. you’re gonna be okay.”

“they’re all-“ joel chokes on his words. he can’t even say it. fucking pathetic.

scott takes a trembling breath, which- void, it’s so strange to see him having any emotion at all. “yeah.” he glances down, and the uncertainty of it all is what brings joel back to the present.

joel’s hands are shaking uncontrollably, regardless of how much he tries to stop. scott holds his own out in an unspoken offer, and joel grabs them embarrassingly quickly. their eyes meet, and joel doesn’t look away.

“but they’ll be back.” scott says, quiet. “they’re not lost—they’re still here.”

“but they’re not here.” joel almost winces at how raw he sounds, but he can’t bring himself to. now is not the time for embarrassment, however deeply he is going to regret that later.

scott’s eyes seem somehow more sunken, the bags underneath more pronounced—the scars of nightmares. joel knows those scars well. “I know.”

and- despite it all, it just seems so strange for scott to share that sign of grief with joel. scott, who hides his feelings so well from the outside world, not even jimmy knows all of him; whom joel has contemplated on numerous occasions if he is a robot or not because of this fact; who won’t let himself die to anyone but his allies’ hands since double life.

so joel decides to do what he does probably the worst, and tries to lighten the mood.

“you- maybe he is here. jimmy, I mean.” he blurts. “he- y’know when you wake up after you die and he’s laughing at you for whatever dumb death you just had?”

something flickers in scott’s eyes—almost like candlelight. “usually he’s just annoyed I lasted so long.” he says, a note of amusement lacing his tone. joel jumps on it.

“I reckon he’s here- with lizzie maybe.” joel says, scrutinising every detail of scott’s expression for any signs of reassurance. when did he start caring about scott? “they’re both making fun of us for being so sappy about them- and they’re gonna go tell mumbo so he can join in.”

scott glances down at his hands—still holding joel’s. when he looks back up, there’s something warm in his eyes. “you don’t comfort a lot of people, do you?”

“I- what’s that supposed to mean?” joel says, but it’s too softly spoken to come across as a threat.

“nothing.” scott says, and he sounds like he means it, which is- fucking weird. “you’re doing a good job.”

“yeah, too right I am.” joel says haughtily. he can feel his hands again; his mind isn’t so loud anymore. “thanks.” he says, quieter.

“you’re- you’re welcome.” scott says, apparently taken aback by joel’s humility.

there’s a long pause, and a silence stretches out between the two. it’s not strictly an uncomfortable silence, but it’s extremely strange—silence in these games is a luxury that too often means trap to be trusted.

“this is- this is fucking weird, right?” joel says, barely managing a grin.

scott rolls his eyes, but a smile plays at his lips. “you always have to ruin the moment, don’t you?” he pauses. “but- yes, this is very strange.”

“I don’t like it.” joel says, and.. maybe that was a tiny lie. okay- a big lie, but. just- oh, whatever. shut up. “feels unnatural.”

“I can go back to killing you if that makes you feel better.” scott grins.

joel scoffs. “how about I kill you and we call it even.”

scott huffs a quiet laugh, and the two drift back into a comfortable silence. only- there’s something in scott’s eyes that makes joel think he hasn’t said everything he wants to say. how does he know this, you may ask? well, joel isn’t exactly the most.. open with his feelings; he’s seen that look in his own eyes too many times not to recognise it.

“what?” he asks, and scott practically startles.

“I- what do you mean?” scott says, that look still plastered all over his face. joel isn’t feeling anything at all about the fact scott has started to let his guard down around him. shut up.

“you have that look.” joel gestures vaguely. “like you want to say something but it sounds stupid in your head and you can’t decide if it’s worth it.”

scott blinks at him. “you- how did you-“

“I know everything, scott.” joel says, some of that swagger back in his voice as he half-grins. “but what is it?”

“it’s- I mean you hit the nail on the head.” scott chuckles. “it sounds stupid and I can’t decide if it’s worth saying.”

“well, in my expansive worldly knowledge,” joel says pompously, grinning as scott scoffs at him. there’s something very strange going on in his chest as he notes the fond undertone of it. is he having a heart attack or is he just happy? hard to tell. “it’s almost always worth it. and if it’s not- well, I just had a panic attack because I almost killed you, so.”

“okay, well- you’re not allowed to laugh.” scott preempts, as if joel even has any right to laugh after scott helped him through his breakdown. “but, um. can I hug you?”

joel’s brain seems to have gone entirely blank, and so it’s a surprise to even himself when he says, “yeah- yes. you can.”

scott seems to be genuinely scared of doing anything that might upset joel, which- okay, that’s a whole other thing to have a crisis over later, but it also is kind of funny. oddly enough, it makes it easier for joel to shuffle so he can lean against scott’s shoulder, grinning as scott practically freezes.

“y’know, you asked.” joel nudges him.

scott scoffs a little. “yeah- I know, I just- I assumed you weren’t very.. huggy.”

“why does everyone always say that?” joel huffs. “etho said it, grian and jimmy said it-“ joel is interrupted (very rudely) by scott snorting, and hurriedly covering his mouth. “what?”

“nothing, nothing, just-“ scott grins. “eefo.”

“wh- oi!” joel exclaims, digging an elbow into scott’s side. “i’ve heard enough about that from him, I don’t need you joining in.”

“you’re gonna end up killing me if you do that again.” scott says, exasperated. joel does notice him relaxing though.

“oh no, what a shame.” joel says sarcastically, cackling as scott elbows him back.

there’s a pause, and joel is beginning to notice that there are a lot of pauses with scott. he kind of appreciates it. before joel has time to unpack that, he takes the opportunity to shift into a more comfortable position, which apparently startles scott, if the momentary tense is anything to go by. joel doesn’t get a chance to apologise before scott relaxes and puts his arms around him.

“this whole.. murder thing,” scott starts. “it hasn’t been red bloodlust since- well, ever, has it?”

and- joel wasn’t expecting to be asked that by scott- probably ever in his life, in all honesty. but. he can’t lie and say he doesn’t have an answer.

“I don’t think so.” he admits, quiet. “how long ago did you figure that out?”

“limited life.” scott says, and- yeah. that makes a lot of sense. “I was surprised that you hadn’t gone- well. batshit. and then jimmy died, and you were losing time like there was no tomorrow.”

“yeah.” joel leans a little closer to scott, almost unconsciously. “jimmy is- he’s- well. you know what he’s like.”

“I do.” scott says, a little distantly.

“I don’t- it’s never really.. on purpose.” joel says. “I mean- suddenly someone’s gone, or i’m on my own, and then it’s kind of like- why does it just have to be me? and then that turns into, maybe I should just go. get it over with, y’know?”

“pick fights you know you’ll lose.” scott realises, and joel hums in agreement. “get someone to do it for you so you can pretend it’s accidental.”

“ding ding.” joel says, emotionless. maybe he should feel a little more.. anything about that. he doesn’t.

“fuck.” scott breathes. he squeezes joel a little, almost as if he wasn’t thinking about it- as if it was natural. “I didn’t- I never realised.”

“well, I only just realised.” joel says. “I never really.. clocked it, I guess.”

“and so now.. was that part of it?” scott asks, almost cautiously. oh. gently.

“might’ve been.” joel shrugs. “though, I might just not like you.” he manages a grin and scott rolls his eyes. “who’s to say it’s not both?”

“can I.. tell you something?” scott says, almost hesitantly.

joel gives a soft laugh. “somehow, I feel like you probably can. just a feeling.”

“you have a knack for making things so unserious.” scott tells him, but there’s a smile in his voice. “well, I was gonna say that.. winning is probably the worst thing you can do in this game.”

joel frowns, looking up to peer at scott’s face. to his surprise, he’s entirely serious. “what do you mean?”

“just- it’s all fine until it’s just you, and everyone you know is dead, and you killed half of them, and then- and then it’s all gone.” scott says, suddenly quiet. “you never.. you don’t recover from that. when you’re the only person alive in a sea of blood and bodies that used to be your friends.”

joel gives a long exhale. “fuck.”

“sorry, that’s probably- a bit much.” scott says suddenly, apparently realising the depth of what he just said.

“it’s- well, it’s a lot.” joel says. “but what I- I mean, are you okay?”

scott is silent for a moment. “can you ever be okay in these games?”

“true.” joel says, more to himself than to scott. there’s a long stretch of silence, and joel finds himself wondering whether he should have more silences in his life. he’d tried to avoid them, especially when he was on his own; if he kept making noise, he couldn’t be entirely alone, right? now though, he thinks he’s starting to like them. “i’m sorry i’m always such a dick to you.”

“you- that’s- I don’t mind.” scott says, sounding slightly taken aback. he does sound pleased though, and joel decides to take that as a win. “I mean, I keep killing you. it’s fair enough.”

joel snorts. “yeah, well. still.” he closes his eyes. “I am sorry.”

another stretch of silence fills the little cavern, but this time, it isn’t broken. as the quiet settles on them both like a flurry of snow, it dawns on joel just how tired he is. after all, he’s had a hell of a couple days with very little rest in between them, and- yeah, he definitely needs a nap at some point.

as joel’s eyes begin to close and he nudges closer to scott, ‘at some point’ is starting to look a whole lot more like ‘right this second’. he’s about to sit up again, but scott wraps an arm around him and leans against him as well, and he gets the impression that he’s allowed to sleep here.

it is kind of bizarre that, just earlier today, joel was trying to murder scott—only half because of his task—and now here they are. void, death games are so weird.

joel kind of loves it.

#the ending is weak don’t judge me this has been a wip for like two months now I wanted to finally post it HKFJDK #trafficblr #scott smajor #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans #secret life smp #wren writes #watch this get like 5 notes GKFHD

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spideystevie · 2 years

Text

i knew

summary: 4 times you knew steve loved you + 1 time you knew you loved him

word count: 3.3k

a/n: title from the lizzy song where i got the idea from. i truly didn’t plan on this being as long as it is but i got carried away. takes place leading up to volume one. there’s a small amount of angst at the end but it’s mostly just lovesick idiots.

masterlist!

1. when he gets you a card

The day is slow at the bookstore but you don’t mind. It had been a week from hell as far as you were concerned and you felt like the universe owed you at least a small semblance of peace in the form of a quiet, late morning shift. When noon rolls around, the bell above the door rings.

“Welcome in,” you call out without looking towards the door. Your customer service voice sounds nothing like you and you subconsciously wrinkle your nose at the sound of it. You’ve made yourself busy behind the counter, still not looking up even when there’s no response, and hope whoever it is doesn’t need any immediate help.

Your back is turned for a moment and someone clears their throat behind you. You let out a small huff through your nose. “Can I help you?”

The words die in your throat when you turn around and lock eyes with Steve who’s all sly smiles and shining eyes. Your own smile slides across your face at the sight of him. He nods at your question. “Yeah, I was wondering if you knew where I could drop this off to make sure my girlfriend gets it?”

He holds up a small white envelope, your name etched across the back of it in blue ink. Your smile grows as you lean against the counter and hold out your hand. “What’s this for?”

Steve sets it into your open palm, watching carefully as you set it down on the counter. Your fingertips trace over the writing on the back and you feel an eager anticipation to rip into it and read what’s inside.

“Just because. I know you’ve been having a bit of a rough week so I thought I'd surprise you at work but then I got the idea on the way over to get a little something to surprise you with,” he says and the sound of your giggle floats through the air.

“A bit, is putting it lightly, but consider me surprised,” you joke, though it’s mostly true. He smiles softly.

“I thought maybe a card would help cheer you up or something. There’s a dinner date invitation for tonight included with it,” he says, reaching out across the counter to brush the back of his knuckles against your cheek. A warm trail follows in their wake.

“Stevie..” your voice is soft, caught between awe and disbelief. He’s rambling, over-explaining in hopes that you like it.

“I was worried for a second because when I got to the car, I realized I didn’t have a pen to write in it so I had to run back inside and ask for one and this little old lady gave me one from, like, the bottom of her purse and-” he pauses when he notices you swipe your finger underneath your eye with a sniffle. “Hey, woah, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, sniffling and letting out a wet laugh. The built up tension from the week mixed with the sudden swoop of emotion from Steve’s loving gesture brings tears to your eyes and you wipe at your wet cheeks. “Yeah I’m okay. This is just really sweet, I love it. I love you.”

His concerned frown morphs into a giddy smile and his eyes light up. You step around the checkout counter of the bookstore you work at to wrap your arms around his middle. His arms instinctively wrap themselves around you, holding you against him. He presses a kiss to your head. “I love you, too.”

And you feel it melting off of him and onto you as you hug him. A deep radiating warmth that makes your skin tingle and your heart jump against your ribcage. You feel it again later when you get home, finally opening the sealed envelope and reading the note he put inside before you get ready for dinner.

A whole mini love letter specifically designed for you, and signed by Steve in a messy scrawl of his handwriting.

2. when he walks you to your door

There’s a magic that comes to Steve Harrington loving you, you’re convinced. It’s the sole explanation you can come up with for the way everything seems to click into place, anything bad slipping into the shadows as you sit across from him at Enzo’s. Or when he makes you laugh just that much harder, the sweetness of the message in the card still stuck in a loop in your brain, as he drives you home.

He insists on walking you to your door when he drops you off after dinner that night, ignoring your protests about your front door being only a few feet away and that nothing was going to get you. He holds your hand under the yellow porch light and somehow he still looks heavenly underneath it.

You feel sixteen again standing on your porch waiting for a kiss goodnight after a first date. A warm feeling buzzes in your chest as you stare at him, his eyes regarding you like you just sewed the stars into the sky above you.

“Thank you,” you say, soft tone of voice blending in with the hum of electricity and crickets in the yard. There’s a gentle smile on his face but a question lurking behind his eyes.

“For what?” it's a small murmur, thumbs brushing over the backs of your hands extended in between the both of you. You glance down at them, lifting your shoulder in a brief shrug.

“For…everything, I dunno,” you look back up at him, eyes almost doe like in their softness. “Specifically the card and dinner. And just for being you.”

Steve squeezes your hands three times, a silent I love you, a gentle reminder. His smile widens and he takes a step forward, closing the already limited space between you. Two moths flutter under the porch light just above his head and he takes a second to swat them away.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for you,” his cadence is like a melody to your ears, the warmth in your chest swelling until it spills over into the rest of your body. You take a small step forward this time, joined hands falling to make room for your chest to brush his.

One of his hands comes up to brush against your cheek, palm pressing flat against it and tilting your head to press his lips to yours. Your heart flutters like the moths above, body caving into his like a moth drawn to a flame. That teenage feeling hits again and you can’t help the smile you let slip into the kiss.

You pull back a hair, nose bumping his and the taste of his smile still on your tongue. “Something tells me you might have a crush on me, Harrington.”

You can feel the breath from his laugh against your face, giggling as his nose brushes yours and he shakes his head. He mutters a soft shut up, swallowing your giggles as he kisses you again and again, until you’re breathless and a little dizzy. You step back with a smile that’s a little shy.

When you say goodnight, he squeezes your hands again and leaves a lingering kiss on your cheek instead. You watch him walk back to his car, waving from the door until he’s turning the ignition. And when the door shuts, you’re pressing your back against it, listening to the hum of the engine as he drives off, a giddy smile taking up permanent residence on your face.

3. when he ties your shoe for you

It’s snowing when the two of you come out of the movie theater and there’s a harsh nip in the wind that rushes by. You’re shoving your free hand and the one connected to Steve’s into the pockets of your coat. He’s talking with his one hand, voice animated as he shares his opinions about the movie you had just watched.

You nod along, laughing a little under your breath. It’s not a long walk to where his car is parked but it feels like an eternity for how cold it is. Snowflakes land in your eyelashes and you blink them away, eyes landing on one that rests on the slope of Steve’s nose. He subconsciously wrinkles his nose, the movement melting it into his skin.

As you walk, the laces of your right shoe unravel from their bow. The ends hitting against the sliver of exposed ankle from your jeans alert you and you look down. He’s mid-sentence and you feel a little bad when you interrupt him. “Oh! Hold that thought, my shoe’s untied.”

You pause, Steve stopping in sync with you in the middle of the deserted sidewalk. He lets go of your hand but as you start to bend down, he stops you. He’s already stepping in front of you and dropping to the ground when he says, “Here, let me.”

You watch with an enamored smile as his fingers work the laces into a double knot. The snow on the ground makes his hair look a darker brown and you wonder if his fingers are aching from the cold. The snow falling from the sky is starting to turn into sleet, wet when it lands against your cheek and in his hair.

“There,” he taps the inside of your shoe. Steve looks up, a small grin on his face. You feel it again as he’s looking at you. That all encompassing warmth, a tingling serenity that comes from the certainty that he loves you. So much so that he’d drop down to tie your shoe for you. “All done.”

The tip of his nose is pink from the frost bitten air outside and you can’t feel your cheeks all that much any more, but you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. You grin, offering your hand to help pull him up from the low squat he’s in.

“My Prince Charming,” you tease, shoulder nudging his side as you relace your fingers together. He shakes his head, pressing a searing kiss to your rather cold cheek.

When you reach his car, he doesn’t open your door right away. Instead, he cradles your face in his hands. His hands are somehow warm despite the weather but maybe your cheeks are just cold. You don’t get much time to think about it as he brings his face down to yours, catching your lips in a searing kiss that warms the both of you up just fine.

You look a little dazed when he pulls back, blinking slowly with stars in your eyes. The kiss had taken you a little by surprise and your voice comes out quiet and a little shy when you ask, “What was that for?”

“Just love you,” he kisses the tip of your chill-bitten nose and reaches around you to open your door. You can’t bite back the giddy love sick smile that spreads while you sit in the car and watch him cross in front to get to the driver’s side.

4. when he learns your favorite song

The weather starts to ease later in the week with the days growing slightly warmer and the lingering patches of snow lining the roads melting into the ground. Even still, you layer one of your heavier jackets over top a sweatshirt of Steve’s before heading out to see him.

When you pull into the parking lot of Family Video, it’s nearly deserted save for the all too familiar red BMW. The interior is even more deserted when you step inside, the bell over the door barely heard from the music being played from the old boombox on the counter.

You briefly notice Robin restocking towards the back but your attention is pulled entirely to your boyfriend, swaying a little to the mixtape playing and singing along just barely. He doesn’t see you come in, and he definitely didn’t hear you either.

Whitney Houston’s, How Will I Know, plays through the speakers and as you step closer, Steve finally turns around and nearly jumps at the sight of you. His cheeks start to burn and you grin at the soft red that stretches from cheek to cheek. He turns the volume down enough to hear you when you speak as you lean against the counter.

“Since when do you listen to Whitney Houston?” you’re half teasing, half genuinely curious. Your smile twists into something a little bit confused and Steve thinks the way your eyebrows furrow a little as you tilt your head has to be the cutest thing he’s seen all day. He shrugs, leaning across until your forearms are touching.

“Since you mentioned this being your favorite song,” he says it in a way that’s nonchalant but the way you react is anything but. Your whole body warms making it almost entirely too hot for your layers. You flip one of your hands palm up, watching as Steve’s fingers dance across the skin before sliding easily into place between yours.

Until now, you hadn’t thought Steve had heard you when you turned his radio on driving home from the movie theater. You had tuned through the channels, landing on the one that was playing How Will I Know and increasing the volume while softly remarking, “Oh! I love this song.”

“I hadn’t thought you heard me,” your voice is soft again, an enamored look in your eyes as you make eye contact with Steve. There’s something like thick honey, something more intensely tender and affectionate than normal in his gaze and you can feel yourself sinking deep into it.

“I always hear you,” you can feel that same warmth again, sitting deep in your chest and making your face feverish to the touch. Your emotions are on cloud nine and in a blink you’re pushing forward on your toes over the counter, to kiss your boyfriend. One of your palms lays flat on his cheek, holding him to you.

“Oh gross, guys, really?” Robin says, though her voice holds no real disgust. You break apart from Steve with a laugh, feet falling flat back onto the ground. Your smile is love sick and it matches the look in Steve’s eyes as he rolls them at his best friend.

You squeeze his hand three times, quick, almost fleeting and let yourself get carried away by the feeling of his all-consuming love for you when he squeezes back.

5. when you can’t fall asleep at night

When you had walked in on Steve singing along to your favorite song a month earlier, you never thought the sweetness of the memory would’ve held the weight it does now. Now, you have How Will I Know on a looping tape sitting in the glovebox of his car as a precautionary.

A twinge of guilt is quick to bite when you let yourself feel an ounce of relief that you haven’t needed to use it because every moment you’re not using yours, Max is using hers. Beneath it all is a deep feeling of unease, one that hasn’t left since you were in the Creel House.

Steve’s hand finds yours beneath the sheets, squeezing three times saying both I love you and I’m here for you all at once. It makes your heart feel like it’s going to burst and you smile weakly at him but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

Your body feels tired, limbs heavy with exhaustion and the weight of your never-ending worry. His bed is as cozy as ever and his sheets smell like him, the scent of his shampoo joining the mix from the damp hair on both of your heads. It’s grounding and for a minute you think you might actually be able to get some sleep tonight.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Steve says, deep hints of concern swirling in his eyes. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Just thinking,” you say, voice a little muffled from your cheek being squished against the pillow. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you follow the movement with your eyes.

“About..?” he muses, slowly trying to work it out of you. You know what he’s doing, almost hate that he knows you as well as he does.

“How I never would’ve imagined my favorite song leading us to this moment,” you say and Steve gives you a minute in case you have more to say. “I’m so scared, Steve. And I know we’ve done this whole monster fighting before but it feels…different this time.”

It’s hard to really read his expression in the dim light of his bedside lamp, the lightbulb is dying and you had jumped earlier when it flickered. His thumb rubs soothing circles across the back of your hand.

“You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right?” he asks after a minute and you nod.

“I know that,” it’s a barely there whisper. You don’t say anything else.

“Besides, we’ve got Whitney Houston on speed dial if anything happens,” he means it as a joke but there’s no denying the seriousness lingering in the background. Regardless, it gets a smile out of you albeit small.

“Wish we could have one more normal moment with it,” you confess and Steve’s lips quirk up a little.

“What I wouldn’t give to hear Henderson beg me to turn it off just so he doesn’t have to hear us sing along anymore,” the memory causes you to giggle, making the worries plaguing your mind slip away momentarily into the shadows. He can’t help the grin that rises at the sound.

“He was so mad at us,” you agree, the pit in your chest being replaced with the fire of fond memories. Your giggles fade into a silence.

“We’ll have more normal moments with it,” Steve says. He moves to share your pillow, your noses touching and his breath warm against your face. He tilts his head up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead and murmurs against your skin, “I promise.”

He kisses you once, reassuring and soft and it feels like home. After a promise from you that it was okay, he lets go of your hand and turns over to click the bedside lamp off. The darkness takes your eyes a second to get used to but you can still feel Steve pressed close to you. Your legs are a mess of limbs, bodies interwoven so you’re not sure where you start and he ends.

You’re so familiar with the feeling you get when you’re reminded how much Steve loves you and as you listen to the steady rhythm of his breathing, you feel it tenfold with how much you love him. He’s falling asleep in front of you and suddenly you feel overwhelmed he even exists.

Steve who always steps first into the battle. Steve who worries so much about everyone else, he barely has time to worry about himself. Steve who doesn’t think twice before protecting the people he loves, even if it leaves him with a busted lip and a black eye. Steve who lets you sleep in his bed whenever the nightmares resurface and you can’t sleep alone.

Through the moonlight filtering in through his curtains, you can make out the fluttering of his eyelids. You chew on your bottom lip, rolling over the constant stream of thoughts in your head. After a minute, you give in.

“Steve?” your voice sounds so small.

“Hm?”

It’s muffled and barely audible but your hesitancy bleeds into relief when you hear him.

“I love you. I love you so much,” your chest tightens in the best way when a sleepy grin slides onto his face, his eyes still closed.

“”M’love you, too,” his words are slurred, thick with sleep.

This time, you smooth the, now dry, hair back from his forehead and press a soft kiss to the space revealed. You settle back against the pillow, smiling when he finds your hand in his sleep driven state and squeezes. Your Steve, who even in sleep, makes sure you know how much he loves you.

#am actually loving this one #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #📝: a writes!

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jjledragon · 5 months

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Life Series Alliances/Teams I want to see in future seasons

Jimmy and Cleo aka the Teachers.

I think it'd be fun to see them bond over their previous jobs as teachers, and Jimmy could use the protection Cleo offers by being aggressive and intimidating.

Scott and Joel

It'll continue Scott's trend of never teaming up with the same people twice, and Joel's aggression paired with Scott's chillness would be a fun dynamic.

Cleo and/or Pearl and/or Gem and/or Lizzie

All girls alliance YES PLEASE

BigB and Jimmy aka the Evo SMP members that still haven't had a win (at the time I'm posting this)

Mumbo and Skizz

Skizz's extrovertedness paired with Mumbo's introvertedness would be hilarious. The idea of Skizz giving an affirmation like he did in Limited Life and Mumbo just crumbles to the ground would be iconic.

Gem and Etho aka the Canadians

Gem could be the PvPer and builder and Etho could be the redstoner and her hypeman.

Jimmy and Scar

I don't care if Scott forbids it it would be a pairing full of shenanigans. And since they definitely wouldn't make it to the end, they could focus on making some chaos

Grian and BigB

I personally don't count the Secret Soulmates from Double Life as an alliance bc of how badly it failed, so I'd like to give them a doover where they're teamed up from the get go

BDubs and Jimmy

They could bond over being made fun of and being easily reactive. They would make each other worse off because of it, but I would be an amazing duo.

Pearl and Ren

Ren's theatricality and Pearl's deranged nature would be one hell of a plot device.

Lizzie and Joel

Their undying bond and their tendency to make chaos would be on hell of a watch.

Joel and Cleo

They would singlehandedly destroy the server the second they're both on red

Scar, Scott, and Skizzleman

All their names start with a "Sc" sound, which Skizz would have a ball with.

BigB and Scar

The amount of swindling/gaslighting they would do would cause permanent psychological damage to everyone else

Impulse and Cleo

These two would rather die than let go of a grudge they're holding. BDubs and BigB better watch tf out

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firenati0n · 2 months

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several sentence sunday <3 :)

hello friends :) thank you to @sparklepocalypse @onthewaytosomewhere @captainjunglegym @magicandarchery @getmehighonmagic @bigassbowlingballhead @junebugclaremontdiaz @violetbaudelaire-quagmire (HBD!!!!) @itsmaybitheway @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @anincompletelist for the tags <3

proposal au titled "the full spectrum of human emotion" coming eventually. there is spanking involved:

Alex leans closer to Henry's ear, watching a lone drop of sweat slide down the man's temple, and whispers, “I did say you were allowed, sweetheart.” Henry's cheeks go a lurid shade of pink, almost glowing from within under the lights. He takes a second to assess, landing on a decision surely meant to end Alex's life prematurely. Extinguished in his youth; death by over-the-clothes lap dance spanking. He raises his hand and brings it down with a swift crack and Alex feels it through his jeans, all the way to the blood vessels pounding in his temples. But Henry doesn't stop there. No, he goes the extra mile, goddamn overachieving fuck he is, and squeezes. Alex is going to die in this fucking bar. If the bull didn’t do it, and the dancing didn’t do it, it’s definitely going to be the fucking spanking. The patrons are wolf-whistling, Nora is yelling all sorts of dirty encouragement, and Alex. Well, Alex is over the fucking moon. “That's the best you got, baby boy?” “I suggest you don't push me right now, Alex, if you don't want to cause a scene in this lovely bar.”

xoxo roop

+ tags below the cut and open tag as always <3

@ninzied @dumbpeachjuice @wordsofhoneydew @saturntheday @leaves-of-laurelin @inexplicablymine @sherryvalli @littlemisskittentoes @heybuddy-drabbles @priincebutt @whimsymanaged @ships-to-sail @futureseaempress @happiness-of-the-pursuit @theprinceandagcd @tintagel-or-cockleshells @cricketnationrise @tailsbeth-writes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @myheartalivewrites @onward--upward @celeritas2997 @affectionatelyrs @tinyarmedtrex @14carrotghoul @rmd-writes @indomitable-love @anchoredarchangel @gay-flyboys @cultofsappho @welcometololaland @gayrootvegetable @rockyroadkylers @suseagull04 @eusuntgratie @orchidscript @cha-melodius @candyspandemonium @kiwiana-writes

#roop writes #several sentence sunday #rwrb #rwrb fic #i don't know what's going on either so #here you go i guess #i wrote this in the dairy fridge of a costco #godspeed #to the costco patrons i am sorry you watched me struggle to write this bc i was somehow sweating in that cold ass fridge #my apologies to the child in the cart who saw me try and fail many times to italicize the word “crack” on my phone #fat fingers: 1. roop: 0 #fic: tfsohe

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the-travelling-witch · 2 months

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𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌‘𝐒 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

summary: what kind of music the piercers/tattoo artists of my modern au would listen to

characters: piercer!/tattoo artist! xiao :: scara :: kazuha :: venti :: aether :: heizou

my modern au || genshin masterlist || the playlist

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

melancholic and wistful/dreamy

black over-ears

When he felt like nobody around him understood him, Xiao fell into the comforting embrace of music, listening to artists who sang about the sentiments he kept to himself. It has always helped him express himself with pencil and pen though, letting the graphite tip dance over the paper more smoothly and less hesitantly. To this day, Xiao uses music to block out the world when it all gets too much and familiar tunes help him calm down.

死ぬのがいいわ- fuji kaze, exile- taylor swift/ bon iver, young and beautiful- lana del rey, gales of song- belle, the moon will sing- the crane wives

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀

indie rock

grey over-ears

Scara has been heavily influenced by Venti whose music could always be heard throughout their shared flat. While it vexed him at first, soon he found himself nodding along to the melodies, something his roommate noticed and then offered to share a Spotify account until Scara decided to make his own. And, although he’d rather die than admit it, despite how much he loathes his upbringing, he can’t deny that some classic pieces sneaked in between his usual rotation.

shake it out- florence + the machine, allies or enemies- the crane wives, too close- sir chloe , bohemian rhapsody- queen, winter- vivaldi

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

indie, folklore

old school white wired earphones

Kazuha loves to let his spirit rest as he absorbs the feelings artists pour into their music. For him, it’s important that he can connect to the story that’s being told, either through the lyrics or the sentiment the music conveys. He opts for rather calm songs that invite you to relax even if there’s a deeper meaning to the lyrics. Music is a way for him to create his peace of mind when he can’t be out and surrounded by the sound of nature.

feather- sabrina carpenter, cardigan- taylor swift, saw you in a dream- the japanese house, to the mountains- lizzy mcalpine, let’s fall in love for the night- finneas

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

the definition of “listens to every genre” but has a soft spot for deep and tragic lyrics paired with a funky and upbeat sound

both over-ears and earbuds; also has a collection of old wired earphones tangled together (half of them are broken too)

Venti’s Spotify account is working overtime, that app is never closed. As a former band member, he knows how to play a variety of instruments and has tried a lot of styles himself, so he’s very open minded when it comes to new genres. He also absolutely kills it at karaoke nights, even if he’s already a few drinks in. Something might actually be wrong when he’s not nodding or singing along to the music playing in his head or tapping out the beat on whatever surface is closest. In general, handing Venti the aux is a fantastic idea because he can somehow always accurately gauge what music is the right mood for the given situation. He also judges films based on the soundtrack.

夜に駆ける- yoasobi, people watching- conan gray, kingdom dance- alan menken, u- belle/millennium parade, icarus- bastille

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

(80s) rock and metal or pop

rose-gold or white earbuds

For Aether, listening to music is the time he can let his (gorgeous) hair down. While he’s normally busy making sure everyone else is okay and is doing fine, he seldom takes the time to take care of himself. So when he can lean back and turn up the volume, it’s a very welcome breath of fresh air. The deep base and powerful voices help catalyse any feelings that might have built up over time, and, just maybe, the songs and lyrics are familiar from the time he was lost and confused about what his place in the world was. Yet, he can also appreciate the catchy tunes of popular pop songs that get stuck in his head.

killer queen- queen, master of puppets- metallica, one step closer- linkin park, valentine- måneskin, paradise- sophie and the giants/ purple disco machine

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐔

your local girl group stan

branded earbuds (ahem ahem airpods)

Heizou is a very energetic person and it shows in his music taste. Not only are his playlists full of upbeat kpop girl group bangers, he also knows just about all of the corresponding dances. More often than not, you can hear him humming and whistling along even when he doesn’t have his earbuds in. It’s also a great gateway to interacting with customers; you better believe Heizou is already halfway into a conversation when he catches a glimpse of a photocard.

fancy- twice, eta- newjeans, unforgiven- le sserrafim, queencard- (g)-idle, zimzalabim- red velvet

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

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Modern Au: @r0ttenhearts @bananasquash @hoshiwitch @franaby

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