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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

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Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself.

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac.

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services.

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself.

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface.

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation.

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true)

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier.

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work.

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful.

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me?

Yes, he can hear you.

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep.

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail.

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train.

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think.

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room.

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway.

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively.

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in.

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him?

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse.

— Where do you want me to start, sir?

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry.

— The living room. If it’s not too much.

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker.

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless.

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch?

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it.

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes.

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit.

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left.

— Alright. Anything else?

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway.

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself.

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you.

And he only knew you for an hour tops.

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours?

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits.

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service.

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember.

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body.

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died.

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad.

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be.

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face.

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself.

— What is it, liebling?

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss.

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him.

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow.

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already.

He might not even let you go after.

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment.

— Alright. I will do it right away then.

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless.

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside.

— I will divide everything into categories, alright?

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces.

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is.

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely.

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate.

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours.

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in.

#cod #call of duty #cod x reader #konig x reader #yandere konig #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #male yandere #konig #konig x you #konig cod

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dollishmehrayan · 2 months ago

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BATBOYS HCS ON YOUR PERIOD ── .✦

a/n: so basically this is a request by a anon (here) and anyways I’m gonna try to be very active from now on actually and like try to post 3 times a day too and answer requests too!

Tags: ( batboys x reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The overthinker final boss: Dick keeps a stash of everything you might need pads, tampons, heating pads, chocolate, and tea. He probably Googled “best snacks for periods” and stocked up on all of them.

Mr. Optimism: He tries to cheer you up with jokes or funny stories from his day. If you’re too grumpy, he’ll settle for giving you a massage instead.

Walks it Off with You: If cramps aren’t too bad, he’ll suggest going on a short walk to “get the blood flowing” (pun not intended he swears).

Endless Compliments: “You’re glowing. No, I’m serious. Period or not, you’re stunning.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Silent Supporter: Jason isn’t the type to fuss over you, but he’ll quietly do everything to make you comfortable like bringing you your favorite snacks, handing you the remote, or lighting a candle in the room.

Cramps Battle Plan: “Heating pad or Tylenol? Pick your weapon.” He’s very no-nonsense about getting rid of your pain.

Comfort Food King: He’ll whip up your favorite comfort meal, and if he doesn’t know how to cook it, he’ll spend hours watching YouTube tutorials to get it right.

Protective Mode Activated: If anyone so much as annoys you while you’re on your period, Jason’s ready to pick a fight. “You’re messing with her today? Leave her the fuck alone.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The Researcher: Tim has read every article about periods and cramp relief. He’s got tips you’ve never even heard of, like drinking tart cherry juice or lying in a specific position to ease the pain.

Sleep Enforcer: “You need rest. I’ll handle everything.” He’ll make sure you get enough sleep, even if it means carrying his laptop into the bedroom to work quietly by your side.

Subtle Humor: When you’re cranky, Tim knows how to make you laugh without crossing the line. “I guess Batman didn’t prepare me for this kind of monthly chaos.”

Midnight Run Specialist: If you casually mention craving something like fries or ice cream, he’s already putting on his shoes to go get it.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Efficient and Direct: Damian doesn’t dance around the topic. “What do you need? Tell me, and I’ll get it.” He’ll ensure you have everything from snacks to painkillers.

A Little Awkward at First: If it’s his first time dealing with your period, he might be slightly flustered but determined to be helpful. Expect a lot of practical solutions.

Healthy Solutions Advocate: He’ll try to make you herbal teas or suggest yoga stretches that can relieve cramps. “This pose is known to improve blood flow. Try it.”

Protective Little Bean: If anyone upsets you while you’re on your period, Damian will glare at them like they’ve personally offended his family. “Apologize to her. Now.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Regular guy: Bruce has handled every kind of crisis imaginable and he does have daughters/ female colleagues and close friends so he isn’t truly like clueless, so this is no different to him. He’ll make sure you’re stocked up on everything and keep the Batkids in check so they don’t annoy you.

Comfort King: He’s surprisingly good at creating a calming environment dim lighting, soothing music, and plenty of blankets. (But please never ask him to decorate for the love of god😭 h/j)

Subtle Affection: Bruce isn’t overly emotional, but he’ll quietly make sure you’re okay, checking in on you with a simple, “Do you need anything?”

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pretentious-blonde · 6 days ago

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stay for dinner?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: a stupid conversation, past insecurities, and a boy who thinks he isn’t enough—until you show him he always was

warnings: steve self-sabotaging, crying

a/n: part 4, can be read as a standalone too. PLS give me ideas for these two if you liked them!! they currently have my heart <3 (may or may not write nsfw, if i get an idea for that, so be on the lookout!)

series masterlist

Steve set a freshly rewound tape on the countertop. The sign on the wall stating: Be kind: Rewind, clearly had not been making an impact on the general public. And if that wasn’t enough, he was desperately trying not to roll his eyes as a certain curly-haired boy to his left, perched on the desk as if it was a lounge chair.

Dustin had been pleading with him for the past ten minutes—some elaborate scheme involving a comic book store in the next town over. Steve had already told him “no” at least four times, but the word didn’t seem to register in the boy's vocabulary. He became aware he was fighting a losing battle as the kid refused to budge.

“Please?” Dustin implored again, swinging his legs idly as he watched Steve rewind the day’s returns.

“For the last time,” Steve muttered, eyeing a slightly worn Back to the Future case with mild dismay, “I already told you no.”

He was trying to figure out how he could make his declaration any clearer.

Dustin huffed, crossing his arms. “I can’t drive yet, remember?”

“Yeah, well, that’s not my problem,” Steve shot back, sliding the VHS into its designated slot behind the counter.

“I’m telling you, it’s only like a fifteen-minute drive. Tops.” Dustin glanced at the clock pointedly. “Plus, your shift ends soon. What else are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know—go pick up my girlfriend?” Steve flashed him a wry smile, letting the term roll off his tongue with pride.

Girlfriend.

It still felt new, but it also felt good. He thought it would take longer for him to assimilate to his new title as boyfriend, but he fell into the role as easily as breathing. Something that felt completely natural.

No longer was he the designated driver for his friends after work, he did the stuff that boyfriends do. And that included spending most evenings with you.

There were a few times you insisted he needed to spend time with his own friends, but he still wished you were there. Hopefully, you would be comfortable enough to tag along with them in the future. God knows he was more than willing to show you off.

“Oh yeah?” Dustin sat up, his posture straightening. “So it’s official now?”

A tiny grin tugged at Steve’s mouth. “Yeah.” He closed a drawer of tapes and rested his hands on the counter, staring at Dustin with a slightly smug expression. “It’s official.”

“Good for you, man. Seriously. That’s nice.” He said, seemingly out of obligation rather than pure interest. Then, snapping back to the real topic at hand. “But I’m not leaving until you agree to take me to the comic book store.”

“That’s like—” Steve glanced at the clock above the television sets for rent, “an hour from now.”

“Yep,” Dustin said, unabashed. “I’m persistent.”

“Look,” Steve sighed, massaging the tension in his temples. “She’s coming here once my shift is over. I can’t just bail on her to drive you around.”

Dustin’s face lit up. “Then bring her along! Maybe she’ll like it!”

“Yeah, no. That’s not happening.” A short laugh escaped Steve before he could stop it. “I’m not dragging her to a comic book shop just so you can blow your allowance on some special-edition nonsense.”

“Hey, it’s not nonsense!” Dustin protested. “They have the rare issues I can’t find anywhere else. And who knows, maybe your girlfriend’s into comics!”

“Why do I even argue with you?” Steve groaned to himself, returning to the stack of tapes in front of him—anything to have an excuse not to keep looking at Dustin’s pleading face. “You just keep going and going. It’s exhausting.”

“That’s because I know you’ll give in eventually,” Dustin quipped, flashing that self-assured grin that made Steve want to either adopt him or toss him out a window—possibly both.

“Yeah, well, not this time,” Steve insisted, though the conviction in his voice wavered slightly.

Dustin was right about one thing: Steve did have a tendency to cave when it came to the kids, especially the ones he’d practically helped raise. But, as he filed away the last of the returns, a pang of guilt rippled through him.

He didn’t want to let you down. Truly, he didn’t. You were swinging by just to see him. It was a Sunday after all, so he was finishing early, and he wanted to spend as long as he could with you.

Unfortunately, he did feel a little regretful about letting his friend down. Perhaps he was spending a bit too much time with you—which wasn’t a crime—but he was struggling to recall the last time he spent alone time with Dustin.

The kid must have caught the trace of hesitation in Steve’s expression. Finally, a crack in his armour.

“Look,” he said, in a rare moment of sincerity, “just ask her, okay? If she says no, I’ll drop it.”

Steve mulled that over, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Fine,” he relented, not hiding his exasperation. “I’ll let you pitch your case when she gets here.”

Dustin pumped a fist triumphantly. “Yes! You won’t regret this.”

“I regret a lot of things, Henderson,” Steve muttered under his breath. “Now let me finish up so I can actually clock out at a decent time.”

“Deal,” Dustin agreed, but he made no move to vacate the desk. Instead, he just kept swinging his legs, watching with interest as Steve tried to busy himself with the returns.

The kid was relentless—he had to give him that.

He was half-leaning against the counter when you walked in, the lazy Sunday light spilling through the windows, making him look almost golden.

You instantly spotted him, features slightly fatigued but nonetheless tender. The boy who inserted himself into your daunting new life, making you feel less alone. The boy who made you feel safe whenever your eyes met—warm, reassuring, sometimes bashful if you caught him at the right moment.

Your gaze drifted to the curly-haired kid perched on the front desk, chattering away while Steve fiddled with cases. You hadn’t met him yet, but had an inkling as to who it might be from you and Steve’s many conversations.

The second Steve caught sight of you, the slight crease in his brow eased, and a genuine smile lit up his face. He straightened, set the tapes aside, and practically melted as you approached, arms opening to fit you just right.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling you into a warm hug. His vest brushed against your cheek. You tilted your head just enough to feel the soft press of his lips against your temple.

Even though the two of you were official, your cheeks still reddened at his action. It often seemed he didn’t mind that you had company, or maybe he just didn’t care. Or perhaps he didn’t realise how brazen he could be.

Either way, you weren’t going to stop his displays of affection. You enjoyed knowing he was proud to call you his.

“Hi,” you said quietly, relishing the way he lingered in that hug, not quite wanting to let go just yet.

“This is Dustin,” he turned, gesturing to the boy with the curly hair. “I told you about him, remember?”

“Right!” You offered the boy a friendly smile, glad your assumption was correct. “So great to finally meet you. Steve mentions you all the time.”

Dustin stared for a moment, then blinked like he was recalibrating.

“Um… hey,” he said, his tone surprisingly timid. “Yeah, you too.”

That made Steve grin even wider.

Dustin, rendered speechless? He never thought he would see the day. He looked at his awestruck expression and glanced over at you smugly.

Yeah, he did that. He isn’t quite sure how, but he did that.

“You ready to go?” you asked, glancing up at him over your shoulder. At your question, Steve let out a slow breath, raking a hand through his hair nervously.

“Apparently, someone wants me to be their personal chauffeur,” he said, with a pointed look at Dustin. “Says I need to drive him to a comic book store.”

“A comic book store? But there’s one like four streets over, right?”

Steve spread his hands in exasperation. “Exactly what I said!”

Dustin threw his hands up. “That one sucks! Their selection is terrible and they get new shipments like once a month!”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. He sounds like a tiny professor with the fervour in his voice. Steve shot you a look of abject guilt, like he was already imagining leaving you hanging.

“Would I be the world’s biggest jerk if I did this?” he asked, the uncertainty evident in his tone. He hated to be the one to make decisions like this, picking sides and disappointing someone in the process.

“No, honestly, it’s fine.” Gently, you shook your head. “It’s still early, right?” You gestured to the clock on the wall—three o’clock, give or take a few minutes. “I’ve been all over the place today, honestly an hour or so just to get everything in order would be amazing.”

“I mean…” Dustin started, looking between you and Steve, not sure if you're just being nice or actually had something to do. “You’re welcome to come with?”

But you waved him off with an apologetic smile. “Thanks, but seriously, I’ve got a lot to catch up on at home. You two enjoy, please, don’t let me stop you.”

Dustin beamed at you, grateful for the positive turn of events. Steve, on the other hand, still looked torn, torn between not wanting to inconvenience you and also not wanting to bail on his friend.

“Alright,” he relented, exhaling in relief when he realised you were genuinely okay with this. “I’ll… yeah, I’ll drop him off, and we’ll probably poke around for a bit if they really have something he’s looking for.”

“No worries.” You leaned forward, reaching for his hand, not missing the smitten glaze in his eyes as you squeezed it. “Swing by mine after, okay? I should be done by then.”

Steve’s posture relaxed, gratitude colouring his eyes. “Okay,” he murmured, “deal.”

He leaned in, cupping your jaw and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips this time—a sweet, unhurried gesture that made your cheeks flush—again.

There was a shuffle behind him, and you could sense Dustin being extremely polite (or maybe just temporarily stunned) enough not to comment. Steve pulled back smiling, as you made your way to the exit.

“See you, Steve,” you said, backing toward the door. You cast a quick wave at Dustin. “Later, Dustin.”

“Uh, bye,” Dustin managed, raising a hand in farewell.

And with that, you slipped outside, leaving Steve to shoulder his shift into driver mode—though, judging by the fond look on his face, he wasn’t half as annoyed about it anymore.

He just got to rub it in Dustin's face, that yes, he had a sweet girlfriend. And yes, she really was that nice. All the time. Probably when she shouldn't be.

As far as he was concerned, if you needed it, he could haul Henderson around for an afternoon to give you some free time.

“You,” Dustin said, pointing at Steve once you were gone, “are one lucky dude.”

Steve snorted, but it came out more like an affectionate laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmured, casting a glance at the door you’d just left through. “Yeah, I am.”

Steve drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he cruised down the main road, Dustin rambling away in the passenger seat. The kid’s feet bounced on the floor mat, all brimming energy. Steve had to admit—it was nice to see him so pumped. But that didn’t stop him from cringing slightly at every new question that spilled out of his mouth.

Right now he was the subject of a very intense interrogation, and while he had mentioned he was seeing someone new, clearly that was not enough information for the teenager sitting next to him.

“So,” Dustin said, leaning forward, “this girl—your girlfriend—what does she do?”

“She’s writing for the paper in town.” He said, feeling a surge of pride in his chest as he got to gush about your achievements. “Gonna be a big-shot journalist someday. That’s what she wants, anyway.”

Dustin let out a short laugh, amused in a way that made Steve raise an eyebrow. “Why’re you laughing?”

“I’m not, I’m just—” Dustin shook his head, lips quirked in a grin. “You and your… type.”

Steve gave him a side-eye glance. “My type?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Dustin scoffed, half-exasperated, half-teasing. “Smart writer girls. You know—the go-getter, brainy ones.”

Steve’s initial instinct was to shrug it off, but something nagged at him.

He felt a twinge of déjà vu that he didn’t love.

“Yeah, okay, I can sorta see what you mean.” He spoke cooly, but the heat rising in his chest was anything but.

“Admit it,” Dustin pressed on. “You like girls that are just a little… out of your league.”

Steve bristled, tightening his grip on the wheel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, think about it." Dustin shrugged, apparently not noticing the defensiveness in Steve’s tone. "The girls you’ve dated. They’re super smart, super driven. It’s cool how you have managed to pull this off twice.”

Steve forced a laugh, though it felt hollow on his tongue.

Pull this off? That the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Right, yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, Henderson.” He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping into his stomach. “Well, if they like me, then I must be doing something right.”

“For sure. No denying you’ve come a long way.” Dustin nodded, tapping the dashboard with one finger. “Remember how you used to act at Scoops? Man, you were just—”

Steve groaned, cutting him off as he steered into a small parking lot beside a rundown building with a neon sign advertising Comics & Collectibles. Not wanting to relive failed moments from his youth any longer than he had to.

“Alright, we’re here.” He put the car into park, his posture now rigid. “You’ve got thirty minutes, max. Then we’re outta here.”

“Thirty minutes?” Dustin repeated, eyes bulging. “But—”

“Non-negotiable,” Steve said flatly, giving him a pointed look, suddenly in a sour mood. “I’ve got places to be.”

“Fine.” Dustin grumbled under his breath but ultimately acquiesced, grabbing his backpack and popping open the door. “Thirty. Starting… now.”

He hopped out, the door slamming shut behind him. Steve exhaled, jaw still tense. He watched the kid dart across the lot and pull open the shop’s glass door with excitement.

Alone at last, Steve let his head fall back against the headrest.

Are you really that much out of his league? The question looped around in his mind like a broken record.

He could laugh it off—he had enough practise doing that—but he started remembering how he felt so inadequate around Nancy.

You made him feel needed, cared for, that much was certainly true. But how long would you need him, really?

The notion stirred up old insecurities he’d thought he’d buried.

The rational side of his mind told him he had nothing to worry about. If you liked him—chose him—that was enough, right?

Sighing, he pulled out his watch and glanced at the time. Twenty-nine minutes until he could drop Dustin off and head straight to your place. He suddenly wished the clock would run faster.

Because if there was one thing he couldn’t wait to do, it was lose himself in you. If only for the evening.

Your familiar doorstep was supposed to feel welcoming, as it had so many times before, but Steve’s mind was a bundle of half-formed worries as he stood in the familiar space.

He hated to admit when things got to him, but Dustin’s teasing—albeit lighthearted—had, indeed, gotten to him. The doubts clouding his mind like a soft static he couldn’t push away.

The one statement he kept circling back to was the whole "out of his league" idea. I mean, yeah, from the outside looking in, it could be the case. But he had something to offer, right?

If nothing else was true, he at least had a decent enough face, and his personality had come a long way from high school. Hopefully, other people could see that too.

He forced his mind into silence as he took a deep breath, knocking twice in quick succession.

When you opened the door, dressed in soft, comfortable clothes that looked unfairly adorable on you, he felt something in his chest unclench. Even on a lazy Sunday—one where you had every right to be tired from your own job—you still radiated a classic warmth, one that he was selfishly drinking up, grateful to be the one basking in it.

“Hey,” you said, smiling so easily that a bit of the tension in his shoulders melted.

“Hey, angel” he echoed, stepping inside when you ushered him through the threshold. The air hit him first—warm and fragrant, hinting at something savoury on the stove. “Wow, it smells amazing in here.”

Little did he know, you had already taken care of most of your errands that morning. Knowing you’d be spending the afternoon with Steve, you’d gotten up a little earlier than usual to make sure everything was in order. But when you saw the desperate look on Dustin’s face as he pleaded with your boyfriend to take him to the store, an idea sparked. A little surprise for him—one you hoped would land well.

“Figured I’d make dinner.” You gave a pleased little shrug. “We don’t always get Sundays like this, and I know you had to work, so…”

“Wait,” he said, blinking, “you made dinner?”

His eyes softened as he took in your words, letting them settle in his chest. He tried not to feel indebted—but God, he wished he stopped to pick up flowers or something.

“Yup,” you confirmed, leading him toward the kitchen. “Nothing fancy. Just has to reduce on the stove for a while longer, but I wanted it ready for when you came by.”

Steve’s heart twisted in two directions at once. On one hand, it was the sweetest gesture, and certainly one that should have put his mind at ease. On the other, his mind kept whispering to him. He questioned if he was even worth this kind of effort.

The bluntness of the thought shocked him a little, but he couldn’t render it completely false. He felt like he owed you something.

“You didn’t have to go all out for me,” he murmured, smiling at you in an almost apologetic manner.

“I know.” You reached up to brush a stray bit of hair off his forehead. “I wanted to.”

He swallowed, nodding. “Thanks, angel,” he said softly, the pet name rolling off his tongue with more tenderness than he intended. Like he wasn’t supposed to be using it. “Seriously.”

You tugged him gently into the living room, where he sank down onto the couch, exhaling a sigh of relief. The day had felt so long—the slow hours, Dustin’s energy, the drive out of town—but now, in the familiarity of your apartment, it all felt calm. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t quite right.

You curled against him, fitting neatly at his side as he draped an arm around you. The soft haze of a lamp cast a cosy halo over the bookshelf across the room, the very one he’d helped you build not long ago. He couldn’t help but notice the extra row of spines he didn’t remember seeing before.

“Hey,” he teased, nudging your head and gesturing to the neatly lined novels. “I thought you said no more books until you’d read all the ones you owned.”

You lifted your head to follow his gaze, a faint grin tugging at your lips. “I did read them. Which means I’m allowed new ones.”

“All of them? In, what—two weeks?”

He barely finished reading Salinger in senior year, and that took him months to work through.

“About that,” you said, sounding almost sheepish. “They were good, and I got on a roll. You know how it is when a book just sucks you in?”

He didn’t really, but now he felt as though he should.

“That’s…impressive.” He replied safely, not wanting to bring down your mood with his lack of literature knowledge. Especially when you seemed so pleased that he was there in the first place.

You used that moment to shift closer, your cheek pressing against the broad line of his shoulder. He felt the warmth you emitted, and if he allowed himself, he could imagine that maybe you enjoyed his company as much as he loved yours.

“So,” you said, glancing up at him with genuine curiosity. “How was work? How’s Dustin?”

Steve hesitated, momentarily tripping over the idea that you’d be interested in the mundane details of his shift or the kid’s comic book haul. But the way you were watching him—like you actually cared—made him sigh and lean into it.

“Pretty standard, y’know?” He ran his free hand over his jaw, trying to sound casual. “Dustin got what he wanted, as usual. He’s like a force of nature—hard to say no.”

You smiled, amused. “That kid seems unstoppable.”

“Definitely unstoppable,” Steve agreed, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Eventually, after his debrief of today's events, you got up to check on dinner, stirring the pot and releasing another wave of that delicious smell. He watched, heart clenching again with gratitude and guilt.

He could see how careful you were, minding the heat, adding a pinch of seasoning, taking the time to make something special just for him.

He wondered if he could do anything to help, something to be useful again.

It felt so domestic that for a second he let himself imagine a future where this could be the norm—where the two of you shared little traditions, teased each other about groceries, woke up side by side. Equally happy with what the other had to offer.

Soon enough, you both ended up at the small kitchen table, plates filled with a hearty meal that made him groan with delight after each bite. You just laughed, pleased by his genuine appreciation.

“Good?” you asked, grinning as he nodded enthusiastically, mouth still full.

It was good. Really good. Made only better by the fact that you made it for him.

Why didn’t he think of something like this?

At this rate, he was going to have to pull a screw loose from your bookshelf just so he could prove himself again.

When you’d eaten more than enough to satiate your hunger, you cleaned up together, bumping hips in the process, trading playful glances as you washed and dried the dishes.

He followed you back to the couch, happy to follow where you dragged him hand first. You spent the rest of the evening chatting aimlessly about books, random gossip from your workplace, and his occasional run-ins with Robin or the kids.

There was nothing particularly grand or momentous about it; just a gentle closeness. Though he was worried it was too mundane, if his crappy jokes were enough to keep this thing going.

All too soon, the clock on the wall struck a sober reminder: Monday morning was lurking around the corner, and you gave him an apologetic look.

“I hate to kick you out,” you said softly, “but I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He pretended to huff in annoyance, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a small smile. You were the one with a real job, after all. “Responsibilities and all that.”

At the door, you hugged him, chin hooking over his shoulder. He could smell the faint scent of laundry detergent on your jumper, mixed with the lingering aroma of dinner. It felt safe in your arms—safer than he’d felt all day.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your hair, voice thick with more emotion than he intended to reveal.

“For what?” you asked, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes, sensing his unease.

“For dinner,” he shrugged, trying to hide the lump in his throat. “For letting me hang out… for, y’know, being you.”

A smile lit up your features, and you rose on your toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

It should’ve been reassuring, but that old worry nipped at him once again.

You gave him a playful nudge out into the hallway. “Drive safe, okay?”

“Always,” he promised, mustering a half-smirk. But the moment the door closed behind him, the warmth drained away like someone had shut off a heat lamp.

By the time he slid into his car and started the engine, he was already thinking about Dustin’s words, "girls out of his league."

Mentally, he scolded himself. But the thought stuck like glue, stubborn and unmoving. He glanced at your apartment window—light still glowing from inside—and his chest ached with longing.

You liked him. You even cooked for him, fully aware that he would have been just as content with a crappy pizza or diner fries.

So why couldn’t he let himself just be happy?

With a quiet sigh, he pulled away from the curb, leaving the comfort of your home behind. And as he drove through the sleepy streets of Hawkins, he couldn’t quite loose the hollow sense that he was missing something.

Good things always had a way of escaping him, and he couldn’t imagine how this would be any different.

You’ve never felt unsettled since moving to Hawkins—at least, not until now.

Work at the Hawkins Post can be demanding, but those pressures were somewhat tangible: deadlines, edits, the joyous feeling of being undermined for basic input. You can handle all that. But suddenly finding your supposedly devoted boyfriend slipping through your fingers for reasons you don’t understand?

That feels far worse than any work stress could ever be.

All week, you’ve told yourself not to overreact. Steve might just be busy or tired or dealing with something personal. You didn’t want to pry, and after coming clean about your own struggles, you assumed he would do the same thing. Take his own advice or whatever.

But the excuses keep piling up, and you can’t ignore the changes in his behaviour. It started with some half-hearted reasons to hang up the phone in the evenings—when he used to plead with you to stay just little longer—usually ending up with one of you falling asleep on the line, listening out for the others breathing to steady before ending the call.

The whole week he didn’t even mention spending the weekend together. Usually that was sacred time, with him arguing with Kieth and Robin to please let him have the evening shifts rather than the morning. He enjoyed waking up lazily next to you, not rushing out the door before he had his fill.

By Saturday, you decide you can’t wait for answers any longer. You head out, crossing the familiar street, eventually pushing open the door to Family Video. Robin’s face pops up from behind the counter, the bell signalling a customer.

“Hey,” Robin calls, stacking tapes. “If you’re looking for Steve, you just missed him. Morning shift—he took off like ten minutes ago.”

“I know.” You attempt a polite smile. You were already aware of his absence, watching his BMW speed away from the store, feeling even worse when it turned the opposite direction to your place. “I actually, uh… came to see you.”

“Me? Really?” She seemed half-surprised, half-intrigued.

“Yeah. I�� I think I need your help.” The words spill out in a rush. You don’t realise how anxious you sound until Robin sets aside her tapes, giving you her full attention. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, but I’m kind of at a loss. You’re Steve’s best friend, and—” You pause, cheeks warming. “I don’t really know many people here yet.”

Robin’s expression softens. “Hey, hey, no need to apologise. What’s going on?” Her eyes narrow, the smallest spark of protectiveness lighting behind them. “Did Steve do something stupid? Because I can give him a good slap if—”

You lift your hands, shaking your head quickly. “No, no, it’s not that. Or… not exactly?” Your voice wavers. “I just—wanted to know if he still… likes me? Because he’s been distant, and I can’t think what I did wrong.”

Robin’s mouth opens on a short laugh, but then she sees you’re serious.

“Oh. Wait—you’re for real?”

Heat pools in your cheeks. It sounds so ridiculous when you say it out loud, but you press on. You were here already, so if she knew something, you would rather just get this over with.

“He’s barely returned my calls, and this weekend he hasn’t even tried making plans. Last week I cooked for him—nothing fancy, just dinner—and he acted so weird about it, almost like he wanted to be anywhere else. I keep replaying it in my head, wondering if I came on too strong or something.”

She watches you carefully, reading the tension in your posture, the way your hands keep twisting into your sleeves.

“Okay, okay,” she says, gentler now. “I promise I’m listening. You think you scared him off?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” You look at the floor, biting your lip. “This past week, he’s barely tried to see me at all. Usually he’s so—well, so Steve, you know? But now it’s like he’s ignoring me, except he’s still in town.”

Robin sets aside the tapes completely, leaning her elbows on the counter. Yes, she knew how Steve had been acting, practically besotted with you. So this fast turnaround was odd, but then again, Steve had his moments. Though they usually came with more of an explanation than this.

“That’s… not good,” she concedes. “But trust me, from an outside perspective, he’s been head over heels for you since day one. My guess is he’s the problem, not you. It might be in that thick skull of his, you know? It doesn’t help that it’s covered with all that hair.”

“I feel so stupid, but I didn’t know who else to ask." You let out a shaky laugh. "I’m just… worried I messed up somehow. I know it’s weird—”

“Hey, you’re not weird.” Robin shakes her head, reaching over to squeeze your arm gently. “You’re worried—totally normal. Let me talk to him, okay? I’ll figure out what’s going on.”

Your eyes widen. “No, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to cause drama—”

She interrupts you with a wave of her hand. “Drama is my middle name, apparently, thanks to Steve. Let me handle him. I’ll be subtle. Trust me.”

A mischievous grin tugs at her lips. You have a feeling she’s never been subtle in her life, but you’re too tired to argue.

“Alright.” You sigh. “Only if you’re sure. And please, maybe don’t mention I… came here? I don’t want him thinking I’m this desperate, clingy girlfriend who needs constant reassurance.”

“Desperate? Clingy? He’s been the clingiest guy I’ve ever seen—until now.” She snorts. “Don’t beat yourself up. I know he adores you. He’s probably just… freaking out about something. He’s good at that. Self-sabotage is his specialty.”

The tight knot in your chest loosens just a bit, but her words set you on edge a little. You instantly think that you are the one freaking him out, coming on too strong. But you decide that silence is the best option here.

“Thank you,” you say, voice still unsteady. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” She offers a supportive smile. “Hey, you’re welcome to drop by anytime, you know? If you wanted someone else to talk to or something, but no pressure.”

“I might take you up on that.” You tell her, relieved.

“Good. Now go home, put on some music, try to relax. I’ll handle the Harrington situation.”

You’re not entirely sure what that entails, but her confidence is reassuring. After one more grateful nod, you thank her again and head back outside. Not quite feeling relief, but certainly not feeling any worse.

Steve juggled a soda cup in one hand and a stack of tapes in the other. He had the evening off yesterday and had spent it binge watching crappy rom coms while trying to ignore the nagging feeling in his chest. Trying to find some solace in those mundane guys managing to snag the unattainable, popular girl. They never showed what happened after the whole kiss and get-together thing. Life imitates art in a way.

He also had the day off today—normally something that would have him beaming from the inside out—but he made the decision to spend it alone. A decision that had been laced with anxiety, which now leaked into a mild depression. His nerves overshadowed any relief he felt about his schedule.

He unlocked the door to Family Video, hoping he’d be able to stash the unchecked tapes and slip out before Robin noticed the cloud hanging over him. No such luck.

She was early for her shift, waiting at the counter, arms crossed, jaw set. Her eyes locked on him the second he stepped inside.

“You.” She spoke the word like it was a challenge. “Explain yourself.”

He paused, heartbeat picking up, not expecting this level of hostility.

“What did I do now?” he asked cautiously, setting the tapes down. “I planned to bring them back before opening, I swear, I just—”

Robin cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. “Not that. Your girlfriend came in here yesterday, totally distressed. She thought she did something wrong. Actually asked if she might’ve scared you off by, and I quote, ‘making you dinner.’”

Steve’s stomach flipped. A wave of guilt slammed into him, sharper than he’d expected. He swallowed, remembering how you’d stood in your apartment, smiling so warmly, how you’d carefully stirred a pot of sauce just for him.

God, he’d been such an idiot.

He thought that you would have been too busy with work this week to notice his silence. He thought he hid his emotions better than that.

“She thinks that?” he managed to say, voice tight. “She really asked that?”

“Of course she did.” Robin slammed her palm on the counter. “Now, are you freaking out, or what? Because if you are, just say so.”

“Me? Freaking out?” A shaky laugh left Steve’s lips. Freaking out was putting it mildly. “I’m fine, Rob.”

She shook her head. “You’re clearly not,” she persisted. “Last week you’re gushing about your new relationship, and now it’s radio silence. What’s up with you? Spill it.”

He knew there was no getting out of this, well, unless he literally turned and ran out the store. But that seemed a bit extreme and would likely only delay this conversation.

He dreaded this part. The whole talking about his feelings and his subsequent inadequacies.

“It’s going to sound dumb,” he muttered, gaze dropping to the floor.

“More so than usual?” She teased.

“Robin.”

“Right, no.” She muttered. “Wrong time. Sorry.”

She sighed and walked round the counter so she was standing directly in front of him. Both so she could gauge his reaction and bring him some semblance of comfort. “Talk to me.”

“It’s like…” He trails off, looking away from her pitiful expression.”She’s going places, you know? Really going places. I’m just… here.”

Her expression softened a fraction. “What brought this on?”

Steve felt the memories swirl—Dustin’s pointed remarks, the creeping sense of déjà vu reminding him how Nancy once left him behind.

“Dustin,” he admitted after a beat. “He said some stuff… about me only dating smart girls who are outta my league. It got stuck in my head, okay?”

“Henderson?” Robin’s eyebrows shot up. “Steve, he’s a kid. A kid with zero concept of normal relationship drama. You’re really letting that get to you?”

He tried to muster a shrug, but his chest felt tight. No matter what angle he looked at it, it was a statement that he couldn’t disprove.

“He’s not entirely wrong,” he mumbled. “I don’t have a big plan or anything. My job’s okay, but it’s not exactly a career, and I’m certainly not saving big money—there’s no future path. Meanwhile, she’s got all these ideas, ambitions, everything.”

Robin stared, seeming torn between wanting to hug him and wanting to smack him upside the head.

“God, you’re self-sabotaging again.”

“I am not—”

“Yes, you are!” she insisted, stepping forward. “Textbook Harrington behaviour: good thing’s happening, so you panic and decide you don’t deserve it. I just watched her walk out of here looking like someone kicked her puppy. She literally thinks she scared you off.”

Steve’s gut twisted further. He pictured you, eyes glassy with worry, probably replaying every moment you’d spent together. After your heart to heart the other day it became clear that you tended to overthink, he didn’t realise you could be doing that because of him.

The notion that you blamed yourself made his chest ache.

“I… I didn’t mean to make her feel that way,” he said, voice hollow.

“So don’t.” Robin pressed her lips together. “Fix it. You’re good at that sort of thing.”

He exhaled shakily, setting the soda on the counter before he spilled it with his shaky hands. “How?”

“You have today off, right?” Robin asked, folding her arms.

“Yeah,” Steve said.

“She does too,” Robin replied pointedly. “And it’s not even 10 a.m. yet. So do something nice for her. Show her you’re not running away. Because, believe me, if you keep pulling back, it’s gonna look like you are.”

Steve nodded, trying to will away the tightening in his throat. “What do I even plan? Something big? Flowers? Fancy dinner? She’s already done the cooking thing—”

Robin let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. “You’re not exactly wooing the queen of England. Just do something that says ‘I appreciate you and want to be around you.’ Could be a picnic, a drive, a movie—whatever. Don’t overthink it.”

He let out a short, humourless laugh. “But that’s kinda my specialty these days.”

“Clearly,” Robin muttered, though her tone was gentler now. “Look, the point is, she’s into you. She made that super obvious. The only person doubting it is you. So cut it out.”

Steve paused, letting her words settle. A small seed of hope unfurled in his chest, reminding him why he’d fallen for you in the first place.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, gaze locked on the floor. Then he lifted his head, determined. “I’ll, uh… yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

Robin’s tense posture eased, and she gave a curt nod. “Good. Because if you break that girl’s heart over your own insecurities, I’ll murder you. In a loving, best-friend sort of way.”

Steve managed a small grin. “In a loving way, sure.”

“Get out of here before Keith shows up.” She smirked, waving him off. “And don’t forget to call her, for God’s sake.”

Snatching up his soda again, Steve headed for the door, heart still pounding but a faint sense of relief settling in.

From the moment Steve picked up the phone at ten that morning—voice shaky with nerves—he knew he was taking a gamble.

He could feel the cautious edge in your tone, the coolness that suggested you were bracing yourself. Still, he invited you over to his place for that evening, willing the dread in his stomach to subside. He told himself it would be okay, that he’d find the right words.

Robin had told him to talk, so talk he would.

Meanwhile, you spent your Sunday feeling a dread so heavy it threatened to pin you to the floor.

Why else would Steve have been so distant all week? The only logical conclusion was that he’d decided this wasn’t working. After all, you’d had that conversation with Robin—maybe she’d reported back to him, told him something that sealed the deal.

It made sense in a heartbreakingly logical way.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, you felt like you’d gone through every stage of grief. You dragged yourself to your car and made the drive toward the Harrington residence, a place that had once felt so exciting in its promise.

Now it loomed large in your mind as the site of an upcoming breakup. When you arrived, you saw plenty of parking space—his parents, you recalled, were almost never home. You turned the keys of the ignition and exited the vehicle.

At least no one will witness what’s about to happen.

You made your way up the steps, breath tight in your chest. Just as you lifted a hand to knock, the door swung open, revealing Steve, hair meticulously styled, smelling faintly of aftershave. The pang in your heart only sharpened.

Did he seriously dress up for this?

“Hi,” he managed, the word catching slightly, like he was just as nervous as you.

“Hi,” you replied curtly.

Steve cleared his throat, looking awkward in a way that tugged at your heart—no matter how resigned you felt. “Uh, I think you should come in.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “All right.”

Inside, the house felt cavernous, every footstep echoing. He led you to the living room, and you couldn’t help but glance around, remembering how you used to marvel at this place—huge, yes, but also warm with the potential of summer get-togethers, that pool you’d joked about wanting to try. Now, the thought made your stomach twist.

Guess you won’t be swimming here after all.

You both settled on the couch, an awkward space between you. Steve’s fingers twitched at his sides, and he couldn’t quite meet your eye. The hush was almost suffocating, until finally he spoke, voice low and unsteady.

“Look, um… I think we need to talk.”

Your heart thumped. So this is it. You drew a shaky breath, forcing yourself to sound calmer than you felt.

“Okay. Sure.”

He tried not to grimace at the coolness in your tone. You’d never sounded so distant before, and it killed him to know he caused it. Robin’s words about “explaining himself” rang in his ears, so he opened his mouth—only for you to beat him to it.

“Listen, Steve,” you began, voice thick with tension. “I… I get what’s going on here.”

Steve frowned, something twisting in his chest. “Huh? You do?”

“Yeah," you nodded. "I kind of guessed it.”

“Really?” A flicker of confusion passed over his features. “You did?”

Exhaling, you steeled yourself, trying to keep your composure.

“Look, I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Maybe you didn’t appreciate me crying about my job the other day, or maybe I was too forward cooking dinner for you. I get it. I just… I can’t think of anything else I did wrong.” You forced a hollow laugh. “So I assumed it must be that. Maybe I scared you off.”

Steve’s brows shot up, genuine shock colouring his face.

“What you did wrong?” he echoed. “Wait—what are you talking about?”

You swallowed.

Get it over with.

“Aren’t you… breaking up with me?”

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. Every worst fear he had about you feeling hurt was now a reality.

“What? No! No, I’m not breaking up with you.” He spoke in quick succession. “Are you crazy? I’m not doing that.”

The wave of relief that swept through you was immediate but fleeting.

“Then what is this?” you asked, voice unsure. “It’s obvious you’re not feeling this anymore. You’ve been ignoring me all week, and I’m not gonna force you to stay if you don’t want to. I just… I figured there’d be a reason.”

He grimaced, running a hand through his hair and messing up that careful style.

“There is a reason,” he admitted. “But trust me, it’s not you.”

“Yeah,” you snorted, a weak attempt at humour that came out more sad than anything. “That’s what everyone always says when they break up with someone.”

Steve let out a frustrated breath. He had never been good at this. You were the one who was good with words, not him.

“No, really. It—fuck, just let me talk.” He paused, gathering himself. The realisation that you thought you caused this somehow made his heart twist painfully. If you only knew how not your fault it really was.

God, what a mess.

He stared at the floor, feeling the weight of all his insecurities.

“Listen,” he started, voice shaky, “I’m not good at this, so just give me a moment.”

You watched him, a pang of sympathy slipping through your self-protective shell. He looked… rattled, more so than you’d ever seen him. Despite your own heartbreak, you nodded, letting him gather his courage.

“Okay,” he said, exhaling slowly. “So, I don’t have the best track record with relationships. Or even friendships. I thought I’d gotten better, but apparently not.” He let out a short laugh, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second—only to dart away when he saw the concern there.

It was hard to think when you looked at him like that. Like he was something to be pitied.

“What I’m trying to say is… I always seem to get left behind. My first girlfriend left me for someone else. My old friends ditched me as soon as I wasn’t cool anymore. My parents ignored me because I sucked at school.” He swallowed hard, voice thickening with old wounds. “Then I met you, this super smart girl who clearly has the world at her fingertips—you’ve accomplished so much already, more than I ever could. It made me think: how could I hold onto that? How could I keep you interested in my life when I work at a video store and spend my free time with a bunch of teenagers?”

Your heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his words. For a second, you just stared, feeling tears prick the backs of your eyes at how wrong he was about himself.

Without thinking, you reached out and slid your hand into his, the contact gentle but resolute.

“Steve,” you whispered, voice unsteady but filled with honesty, “how can you think that about yourself?”

His gaze snapped to yours, confusion etched in every line of his face.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing, running a thumb along the backs of his knuckles.

“You really don’t see what others see, do you?”

He frowned, looking lost. “I… I’m not following.”

Blinking back tears, you gave a soft, exasperated laugh.

Of course he couldn’t see, your sweet, stupid boy.

“Steve, the first time we met, you literally lugged and built me a whole bookshelf—remember that? You practically passed out hauling the thing up the stairs.”

“Shit,” he muttered, cheeks tinging pink, “you noticed?”

“Yeah, I noticed,” you said, remembering the moment you started falling for him. “And I saw you freaking out over the instructions, but you tried to act like you totally had it under control.”

“Damn…” he hung his head. “Not as smooth as I thought I was.”

Not in the slightest.

A weak smile tugged at your lips.

“Maybe not, but that’s overrated anyway.” Taking a breath, you tightened your grip on his hand. “Steve, you’re a giver—through and through. So you don’t have some swanky office job—who cares? You have something better. You’re selfless, you help people, you care. That’s worth more than anything else, trust me. Whenever you talk about your friends, it’s like a never-ending list of names. You’re rich, Steve. Richer than money.”

He felt tears burning behind his eyes. This was not part of the plan, for him to be openly crying while you praise him repeatedly. That should have been his job tonight. Making you feel better.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he croaked, “you’re gonna make me cry over here.”

“Me too,” you admitted, voice thick with emotion. “We’re both lame.”

“Yeah,” he managed, a watery laugh escaping, “the lamest.”

A heartbeat of silence passed, and then he lifted his eyes to yours with a shy, almost bashful smile, one you hadn’t seen all week. It looked like him, the real Steve you fell for.

“Come here?” he asked, sounding almost boyish in his nervousness.

You couldn’t move fast enough.

He leaned in, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the big house, the rolling ache in your gut. His lips pressed to yours, soft at first, hesitant, then deepening as relief coursed through both of you.

He couldn’t quite stop smiling against your mouth, which made the kiss a bit clumsy, but neither of you cared. The tenderness overshadowed any awkwardness. It felt like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. When he finally pulled back, he let out a shaky exhale, one hand still cupping your cheek.

“I missed doing that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip.

“Me too,” you breathed.

He swallowed hard, glancing away as guilt resurged. “I’m really sorry I made you feel like you messed up. Like I didn’t—like I wasn’t into you anymore. I am. I really am. Probably too much”

“You should have told me,” you scold him, his brown eyes still glassy. “Aren’t you the one who preached about sharing problems?”

A choked laugh tore from his throat. “Yeah, well… ‘do as I say, not as I do.’”

“You’re impossible,” you teased, though the affection in your voice was unmistakable.

Suddenly, a shrill beeping noise cut through the charged atmosphere, making you both jump.

“What is that?” you asked, pulse still fluttering from the kiss.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Oh, crap, the timer!” He scrambled off the couch, practically tripping over the coffee table. You followed him with a bemused smile as he disappeared into the adjacent kitchen.

Seconds later, you found him shutting off the buzzer, cheeks flushed.

“I, uh… made dinner,” he confessed, looking adorably sheepish.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You cooked?”

“I mean, I stole your idea,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Rob said I should do something nice, so… here we are. My parents were never around much, so I learned a few things. It’s probably not as good as yours, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

A laugh rose in your chest, part delight, part lingering emotional exhaustion. “Robin told you to do this? I gotta thank her.”

He set a potholder aside, shrugging with an embarrassed smile. “She said I had to make it up to you, so… yeah. I guess I’m returning the favour.”

“You’re full of surprises,” you said softly, stepping closer.

Steve let out a quiet breath, a small, relieved grin curving his lips. As you moved into his space, he reached out, fingers ghosting along your arm before settling at your waist.

“And you, deserve it.” He murmured, voice brimming with affection. “Really sweetheart, you deserve the world.”

Something in his tone made your heart clench. Before you could respond, he leaned in again, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow, tender—altogether mesmerising.

He cradled your face like you might vanish if he wasn’t careful, as though keeping you close was the only way to convince himself that this was real. You tasted the faint salt of his earlier tears, felt his almost giddy smile against your mouth, and the mix of sadness and relief and overwhelming softness made you cling tighter to him.

It was the kind of moment that made the ache worth it, the kind you knew you’d replay in your head a thousand times.

You finally broke apart, just enough to catch your breath. Foreheads touching, you could see the hint of a shaky grin still hovering on his lips.

“I guess this means we’re not breaking up?” you asked playfully.

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head vigorously. “But hey, you might change your mind after you try my cooking.”

“Hey!” you protested, giving his shoulder a playful shove—no malice behind it at all. “I’m not that cruel. Even if it was terrible, I’d never tell you.”

“And there you go being way too good for me,” he chuckles, but this time it feels more like the joke he was aiming for.

One that he knew deep down was not true.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x y/n

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kisses4reid · 11 months ago

Text

convenient pt.4 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 3 (you cannot read this without prior reading)

summary - you don’t need help with your biology anymore, you need help understanding the chemistry that seems to be growing between you and spencer.

warnings - jealousy, dickhead guy, unwanted flirting, awkward spencer, mentions of getting run over and pouring rain, studying.

genre - college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!spencer, fluff, angst if you squint, jealousy trope

a/n - i hope you all enjoy this part. comment or put in a req to be added to the convenience taglist, if you’ve already asked and i haven’t mentioned you please message orso i can make sure you’re on my list for the next part! love you all 🫶

sat in a plush office chair, in a cool room, in a comfortable dress shirt, surrounded by the people he trusted most, spencer couldn’t seem to live in the moment.

now that’s not something you would suggest to the man when he’s sat in front of multiple gruesome photos and case files, usually he would be 100% focused, no bullshit, no wandering thoughts.

but suddenly he felt light, airy, like these cases were just another day and he would be confident either way. it wasn’t completely untrue, but it was odd. everyone else seemed to notice.

“spencer, are you okay?” aaron hotchner startled the man with his stern and concerned voice, everyone looking up at spencer as a natural reaction. spencer looked around the table, noticing a growing grin between garcia and morgan.

hotch continued, “if you need to sit this one out, by all means.”

spencer shook his head and adjusted his posture, picking up a profile to skim over. there was a small giggle from garcia that brought the attention of aaron.

“what’s going on?”

“reid’s distracted because of a certain someone…” morgan replied, biting the end of his ballpoint pen. garcia slapped his shoulder.

“don’t tease him, meanies. keep going, hotch.”

they were right. he was distracted and felt far away most of the time. he wanted to go somewhere comfortable, like a convenience store with a pretty employee to talk to.

ricky, a handsome guy a few years older than you, was annoying logan with questions he could’ve answered himself. he tagged along with logan to your weekend study session at a small cafe not far from the college. the tall man was mostly agreeable, except for his apparent obsession with straight black coffee. he had had two cups of it already.

“so, y/n. what do you study? wait don’t tell me. nursing, because you seem to be healing my broken heart. psychology, because you’re making me crazy? or is it music, because your voice is like a song?” he leaned forward from across the table, disregarding the punch in the shoulder from logan. you only glared and returned to your expensive textbooks, leaving your drink to turn cold in its abandonment.

“don’t try anything, ricky. she’s basically taken.” she warned with a smirk. you lifted your gaze and rolled your eyes,

“you’re nonsensical. you’ve had too much coffee,” you stop filling out a questionnaire, “he’s not even that… he’s… ugh, i don’t know.” you place your pen down and stretch in the stiff wooden chair.

ricky laughs, clapping his hands together, “okay so you totally have a crush on a guy.”

“i do not.”

“i guess i’ll back off with my advances, unlessss, you truly don’t have a crush on your lover boy?”

“i do not- but still please back off, you’re gross.”

logan and ricky shared a glance and went back to their work silently. like they knew something you didn’t. your brain had turned stuffy, you need to get some air, you needed to get away from the truth.

garcia and morgan appeared so suddenly spencer thought turbulence had pushed them into their seats in front of him. his gaze snapped from the airplane wing to their two giddy faces and immediately knew what this conversation was going to be about. it only made him a little bit uncomfortable, these types of conversations. girls, flirting, being happy around someone he doesn’t work with, it was all unfamiliar. it seemed he chose the best people to talk about it to though; garcia had given him a little too much information about his crush from her unwanted snooping, and in the process morgan was also given all of this information.

“yes, okay, i told derek all about your girl but i couldn’t help it! he’s very persuasive!” garcia pouted. spencer thinned his lips and nodded, expecting a surge of conversation but he was only met with silence. morgan and garcia shared a glance.

“look, spencer. we’re only doing this to distract ourselves from the case we just closed, and to help you. if you don’t want help, if you think this… thing, will die out, then tell us. but, if you do want some adviceee…” morgan spoke smoothly, quiet enough to avoid attention from anyone else.

when spencer stayed silent, thinking about how he could never use you as a distraction, morgan whispered, “if nothings happening, you gotta light the match.”

you were standing on an uneven step ladder when the doorbell rang with 10 minutes to closing. you rolled your eyes, thinking you’d have to stay even later because of this customer. but your demise quickly turned to calmness, a little bit of panic, when spencer appeared in the entry way.

you nearly fell off the ladder, dropping the pile of juice boxes in your hands onto the floor. you cursed under your breath, watching from above as spencer picked them up for you.

“thank you.”

there was no need for formalities anymore, it was like you had known each other forever. spencer was silent again, it was becoming his thing.

you clear your throat, “i changed my medication.”

he glanced at you, brown eyes observing your tired expression. he came here unconsciously. he had already had some take out, he didn’t need any coffee, and his fruit bowl was stocked to the brim. spencer walked to this convenience store, the result of the action being evident through the pain in his feet.

the phone in your back pocket caught spencer’s attention, before he promptly looked elsewhere to avoid looking like a creep.

“good, im glad.”

are we really back to this? was one awkward conversation all we needed to go back to strangers?

you stepped down, “no more bruises.”

spencer placed his fingers delicately on his healed cheek, holding back a smile that you actually remembered that.

he asked, “who’s texting you so much?” without much thought. he didn’t think about how it sounded, like he was protective or worried, or what it implied. he didn’t even have your number, why should he be so upset?

“oh it’s just logan and ricky.” you replied simply, folding up the ladder and glancing at the clock placed above the register desk, “are you getting anything?”

because it didn’t seem weird if he came here for you instead of his groceries.

“like your brother, ricky?”

there was a small match burning in his stomach at the sound of those names. he felt like taking your phone and snooping until he reached the end, until his fingers hurt. spencer felt like asking intrusive questions, before he bit his lips to stop himself.

you made notice of his hands fiddling in his pant pockets, rolling your eyes. that made his tongue slip.

“how many guys do you know?”

you looked at him with surprise, walking over to the register, “you think i’m a whore?”

spencer’s heart skipped a beat, “no not at all, i just- i didn’t word that right.”

you shook your head and laughed quietly, starting to count the change sat on your swivel chair. something was off. the street was empty. “did you walk here, spencer?”

spencer’s breath hitched. oh god, were the only words circling in his brain. when you used his name, it was different. this was weird, he needed to get out of there.

you looked so effortless. he looked so anxious.

“yeah. i did.”

you nod, “okay, you can help me lock up then.” you pass him a set of keys for the window covers, and add, “you can walk me home, to make up for the other day.”

spencer nods with a small smile and begins locking up.

you lead the way out of the store and around the corner to a set of traffic lights. the streets are silent and misty, but neither of you felt the need to jay walk in an attempt to speed up this process of awkward walking.

spencer watches you from his advantage point. at how you bite the inside on your lips, how you look at the concrete pathway.

“what’s wrong?” you don’t react, instead push the pedestrian button and sigh.

“it’s monday, spencer. you were going to ‘retry’, ‘be better’? i’m not 100% sure what you meant by that, but you said that right after you told me you were going to ask me out so.”

spencer gulps and nods, hands going back to their safe space in his pockets. “yeah, i said that. but i’m going to have to delay that again. this isn’t really,” he motioned towards the weeds, litter, and flickering street lights with his eyes, and you nod with a smirk.

“romantic?”

“romantic.”

you smile at each other, and for a second he’s utterly entranced before a wave of wind and tires pass him. before a soft hand is hard on his upper arm. his eyes trailed the car, heart beating nearly as hard as it does when he looks at you.

“jesus, are you okay?” you asked worried, and when he nods with a simple stare accompanying it, you look away.

light a match.

you hand leaves him quicker than it got there.

in front of your apartment building, you notice logan’s window alight behind white curtains, and turn to face spencer.

“thank you for walking me home. i would invite you in but it’s 1:20am and i don’t really… know you.”

spencer furrows his eyebrows slightly, looking at you expectantly. your faces turns cold, slightly sorrowful.

“spencer, i don’t know you. i know things about you but i don’t actually know you.” you yawn, wiping a hand over your eyes, “maybe i’m just tired and overworked and…” logan’s voice echoes through your head as you look over the tall, tired and handsome man in front of you, “if you’re not going to ask me out first i’m going to ask you out. so, make a decision.”

it felt wrong being so stubborn and solid with him, but with school and family stress you truly didn’t need any unknown feelings to topple on as well.

spencer was taken aback. he didn’t know one couple where the girl asked out the guy, he didn’t know someone could like him that badly. he didn’t know what to say.

“goodnight, spencer. i’ll see you.”

you turned and pushed on the pull door, before pulling on it. heart thumping in your ears, you slowly held a hand over your mouth, impressed with yourself.

but you lied, you weren’t going to ask him out. you have no idea how to ask someone out.

the convenience store wasn’t so lonely tonight.

logan was arguing with ricky over his choice in deodorant almost louder than the terrible radio music playing throughout the store.

the beating of rain was creating a calming background to this chaos, as well as keeping customers away. all but one, of course.

spencer had an excuse, he was supposed to bring food for the team tomorrow, and this was the closest store. totally. but as he stood under the cover of the stores overhead steel, he felt another match being burnt in the bottom of his stomach.

a tall and toned man with bright blonde hair was leaning over your register and talking to you, making you smile and laugh. your arms were crossed, you were leaned away and you avoided eye contact, but spencer didn’t see any of these signs as the waves of jealousy drowned him.

spencer looked out onto the street. he had no right to feel that way, this was his own fault. he felt even weirder and out of place than he usually felt.

the doorbell rang and your fake smile turned real. logan watched from the toilet spray section and smirked when she recognised the purple-sweater adorned man. ricky stopped his flirting and turned to meet spencer’s eyes, they sized each other up. the blonde man smiled and looked back at your much happier face, “so this is lover boy?”

you smacked his arm hard, receiving a squeal in return. “what? no. ricky this is spencer, spencer this is ricky.”

spencer gulped and ignored the stranger and you. he went for the fruits section. ricky glanced at your confused face, “i might be a threat.”

“in your dreams.” you rolled your eyes and pushed his elbow off your desk. logan approached the counter with a basket full and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. you noticed ricky’s change in expression when looking at her and held back a smile.

“you didn’t get anything for me?” he asked, voice teasing. logan took out a block of mint chocolate and threw it at him, which he caught perfectly with a smirk on his face.

“what’s wrong with lover boy?”

you glare at her, deciding avoiding that nickname was out of the picture. your shoulders slump as you begin scanning her items while making sure spencer wasn’t in earshot. “i mentioned you two, and then he went weird.”

“i mean, if i liked a girl and she told me about two guys- sorry, two people with guy names- i’d be pretty jealous,” ricky inputted.

“is that all? some jealousy got to his head?” logan pressed.

you seriously doubted he would be jealous over that, he seemed smarter than that. he was smarter than that.

logan paid and left, literally dragging ricky behind her, as he waved and winked at you through the windows.

the store was eerily quiet, the only noise coming from the thunderstorm brewing outside. it felt uncanny and uncomfortable. you needed someone’s cologne to wade through or something.

turning while shaking your head, you grabbed out some posters taller than you and turned to have the life scared out of you.

“jesus! i thought i told you to walk louder.”

his groceries were perfectly in line to be scanned, a small smile appearing before promptly vanishing. spencer avoided your eyes, a beating all he could hear.

“he’s your…”

you sighed, disappointed spencer even thought that dumb blonde was someone to you, “acquaintance.” you finished his sentence. “i’ve known him for two days and he a flirtatious dick. everyone named ricky is a dick.”

he pulls out his slim wallet to hand you a $20 bill, fingers skimming each other. one glance.

spencer nods and nearly leaves before you stop him, “can you help me?”

spencer is on the top of the ladder outside, barely staying dry underneath the steel overhead cover with the top corners of a food poster in his hands. you tip toe to give him a piece of double sided tape. the laminated photos wave in the wind, spencer sticks his tongue out in concentration and you smile at the innocent act. leaning against the wall, quickly glancing inside to make sure nobody wanted to check out, you begin talking.

“thank you for doing this, i totally would’ve fallen and died if it weren’t for you. what can i do to repay you?”

spencer thought for a moment, looking down at you, “nothing. you don’t have to do anything. just keep talking.”

so you did, because you didn’t know if you’d see him again after tonight.

PART 5

taglist: @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @trashmonstersara @wannabewolf @evysian @navs-bhat @mywellspringoflife @daphnesutton @smalls155 @amortencjja @anuncalledbridge @belsreid @redmurderbaby @tatilolz @criminalmindsandhouse @forensicuntology @nomajdetective @ilikw @screechingphantommaker @c-losur3 @v1ckycheesue @ackermans-angel @scarlettssub @fictionlurker @lovelyygirl8 @momooooca @random-kimmy @leabunny @cultish-corner @doigettokeepyou @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @hinataboke @wenttohogwarts @yaboohah @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @drewsandsebastianswife @hoeshissworld @flow33didontsmoke @bookworm124 @violetvsworld

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #cm #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x yn

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hivemuthur · 1 month ago

Text

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 2.

viktorxfemale!reader mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 4K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: Reader is hit by a truck which is *university*. So, a lot of studying and a lot of frustrations. And the TA is being a pain in the ass, you know how it is. Some science talk, based on the remnants of my knowledge from uni.

author’s note: Guys, you have showered me with love, so I'm showering you with writing.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

Sue was so fucking right. It had only been one week of freedom, and then the workload came crashing down on you. Suddenly, every class had a welcome test attached to it, and you found yourself buried under a mountain of homework—chemical equations to solve and analyse, essays, books to read, lab practice, and lectures to attend. There wasn’t any snowball effect; it all hit at once, and by the time you and Sue returned on the first Monday of the second week, you were carrying enough work to fill two mules, and it would still have been too heavy even for them.

“Your mum is calling,” Sue’s voice pulled you out of a particularly boring passage about physical chemistry in one of your shared workbooks. You would usually put your phones on the cabinet for study time, but the vibration had startled Sue for the third time in ten minutes, so she decided to address it.

“Ugh, can you put her on speaker? I’ll deal with this quickly, and I don’t want to move,” you rolled your eyes, catching Sue’s judgmental glare. She’s your mum!

“Kochanie, finally! I’ve been trying and trying, how are you doing?” Your mum’s voice filled the room with her familiar heavy accent, though she insisted it was improving. Your dad didn’t speak a word of Polish, so Joanna had to switch to English entirely after you left.

“All good, Mum. Lots and lots and lots of studying,” you said, your voice so unamused you barely lifted your eyes from the book, though your gaze was unseeing. You had been staring at the same equation for about half an hour now.

“Have you been practising your affirmations?” Of course, you hadn’t. Silly idea.

“Yes, every day and every time someone pisses me off. How’s Dad?” You decided to deflect as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

“Dad went to Calais for a retreat, and I’m left alone for the entire week. He’s not allowed a mobile, you see,” Your mum rambled on a little longer, and you let her. You were happy to hear your parents were moving on after losing their only daughter. Even though Joanna insisted she could feel your presence in the house, in the clothes and trinkets you’d left behind, and could sense your moods through an invisible mother-daughter bond you shared. What a load of nonsense.

“Mamusia, I love you, but I have to go. I’m studying with Sue, and we’ve got a test in thirty minutes,” you added a round of loud pecks so she could hear the kisses through the phone speaker. She told you to wear red underwear and get Sue to kick you for good luck.

“Your mum sounds awesome,” Sue laughed under her breath. She tried to study but ended up listening to the entire conversation.

“Eh, she’s something. She’s pretty cool when she’s not suffocating you with love, you know?” You gave Sue a knowing smile, and she understood immediately. “Have you managed to learn anything? My brain is literally fuming.”

Sue groaned as she started packing up her notebooks to head toward the lab class. “Honestly, I don’t know. I think I’ll use my last resort—can I borrow some red knickers?” You snickered as Sue shot you a huge mocking grin.

“No, but I can kick you alright, sweet Sue,” you couldn’t help but laugh. You gathered all the papers scattered around you with both hands and shoved them into your bag. You glanced at yourself in the mirror before leaving your dorm room, and Jesus Christ, your youth had already fled. Dark circles under your eyes, a gaunt face, lips chapped—all of it painfully underlined by an ink stain on your t-shirt. Whatever, there was no time to do anything about it.

It was Viktor’s class again. You had slowly grown to dislike them, ever since he and Jayce began to switch every second day, after Jayce got a new girlfriend—beautiful Mel Medarda, a third-year theatre student whom Hale once called a close second contender to rule the planet one day. Second after you, of course.

All of Viktor’s initial friendly sass had dissolved into the mean kind, which he executed each time Heimerdinger’s students were supposed to already know something they didn’t—including you. Thankfully, most of the time, you knew. The times you didn’t, he relished it and squeezed the situation to the maximum, like a sad lemon.

“Alright, take a test from the tray on the teacher’s desk and take your usual seat. And as usual, you can have a calculator and periodic table on your workbench,” Viktor’s instructions boomed through the lab classroom as one by one, students dragged themselves through the door, each one looking more exhausted than the other. “Looking ravishing today, Y/N,” he sent a smirk your way as you passed by him without sparing him so much as a glance and a quiet ‘hi.’

“Bite me, Viktor,” you barked back at him. What the hell was he thinking?

“Gladly, but maybe after class.” Usually, the smug look on his face would get you to scoff; this time, you granted him a faint eye roll as you dragged your feet toward the workbench you shared with Sue. As Viktor strolled through the room, making sure no one had anything illegal on their tables, he snatched your phone from your desk just as you were putting it into your bag.

“No phones,” he slid it into his lab coat pocket with a wink. You whined, about to say something you’d regret, but were immediately cut off by “I said, after class,” coming from behind you as you watched his back, your eyes burning a hole in it.

You solved the test first; you were so angry. As soon as you put it back in the tray, a realisation washed over you, and what you realised was the mistake you’d made in one of the exercises. You wanted to retrieve it and fix it, but Viktor’s hand shooshed you away.

“Come on, Viktor, it was there for less than a second!”

“You put it away, it’s gone for grading. That’s the rule. Also—it’s a learning curve,” he smiled at you sweetly, and you wanted to choke him out.

“Learning curve of what? That you are being a dick?” The last part was barely a whisper, nevertheless, a whisper that was fuming with rage and could cut through steel.

“Patience. And decision-making, which is a process that you clearly haven’t mastered yet,” he said coldly, not even looking you in the eye. This time, you did scoff, and angry steps carried you back to your seat.

The class settled into a more familiar rhythm after the test, the shuffle of papers and the steady hum of Bunsen burners filling the air. Viktor moved around the room, overseeing his students’ chemistry lab exercises with the same detached air he always wore. You tried to focus, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the test—and Viktor's smug little smile as he watched your frustration unfold.

The task at hand was simple enough: a titration experiment to determine the concentration of an unknown solution. Viktor had given you all the instructions, but as you watched the beaker of sodium hydroxide mix with the diluted acid, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. Something about the instructions didn’t sit right with you.

You glanced over at Sue, who was carefully measuring out the chemicals. You leaned in, whispering so Viktor wouldn’t overhear.

“Sue, I think he messed up the ratios in the instructions. If we follow this, it’s gonna screw everything up. We’ll end up with a totally different result.”

Sue frowned, taking a closer look at the setup. “You sure?”

“I’m certain. The way he wrote it—if we add that much of the sodium hydroxide, the pH is going to overshoot too quickly. It'll neutralise the acid too fast, and we won’t get an accurate reading. If we’re supposed to get a neutralisation point, that change will mess with the whole titration curve.”

Sue was sceptical, but you were adamant. You felt it in your gut. "It’ll be off. Trust me."

Sue nodded reluctantly. "So, what do we do?"

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers tapping the edge of the desk as you thought. You pulled up a few formulas on Sue’s phone, glancing back at Viktor to make sure he wasn’t looking in your direction.

“If we use less sodium hydroxide, the neutralisation will occur more slowly, and we’ll get a more accurate pH reading. We’re supposed to use a much more diluted solution.”

Sue nodded, though she looked uneasy. “What the hell, let’s try it.”

You adjusted the solution as you suggested, making the necessary changes to the procedure. You proceeded with the experiment, and despite her hesitation, Sue followed your lead. The two of you worked in tandem, the smooth, natural chemistry of your lab partnership taking over. As you neared the end of the titration, it was clear you had achieved the neutralisation point correctly—without overshooting or leaving any room for error.

Meanwhile, the rest of the class was still fumbling through their measurements, the air thick with the sounds of Viktor’s quiet reprimands. You couldn’t help but glance at him every now and then, noting the small, almost imperceptible frown on his face as he inspected his students’ work.

When the clock pointed to fifteen minutes away from the class ending, Heimerdinger stepped into the lab, his eyes scanning the results with interest. He walked toward your workbench, eyes lighting up as he reviewed your calculations.

“Well, it seems we have at least one pair who didn’t follow the instructions blindly,” Heimerdinger said, his voice rich with approval. “Good work, you two. You’ve done the experiment correctly. Trusting your instincts—making adjustments based on the data rather than simply following authority—is key in science. After all, we’re here to discover, not just to repeat what’s been done.”

You allowed yourself a smile of satisfaction, while Sue breathed a little easier, glancing at you in admiration.

Viktor’s face, however, was unreadable. He stood at the back of the room, arms folded tightly across his chest, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes.

Heimerdinger didn’t seem to mind. “It’s a learning curve for all of us, even your teacher. Mistakes are inevitable. But sometimes when we challenge authority—question the procedures—that’s when we learn and grow. Science is born from curiosity and defiance. Respect is important, of course, but don’t be afraid to challenge when you feel something isn’t right.”

You raised an eyebrow at Viktor, who hadn’t said a word. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but his eyes were hard as steel. He wasn’t pleased by Heimerdinger’s praise of your independent thinking.

“That’s how science is made,” Heimerdinger continued, completely oblivious to the tension between his students and the teacher. “By asking ‘what if?’ and exploring the unknown.”

Viktor finally spoke, his voice cool and controlled. “That’s true,” he said, glancing at you. “But there's a fine line between innovation and recklessness. Don’t mistake one for the other.”

You met his gaze, your jaw tight. “I don’t think we did.”

Viktor’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t respond, turning on his heel and walking toward the front of the room. Sue nudged you gently, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, at least we didn’t screw up,” she whispered.

You smiled back, but your mind was still racing. You had challenged Viktor’s authority—hadn’t followed his instructions—and it had got you praise from the professor. This couldn’t be good. “Sue, I don’t think I’m getting my phone back,” you whined into your friend's shoulder, who giggled uncontrollably.

You waited for your group to disperse into the library or the cantina before the start of the next lecture, making sure Viktor wouldn’t be able to humiliate you in front of anyone. You took a deep breath and knocked weakly on the door of the assistant’s back office.

“Come in,” Viktor’s voice was as flat and unwelcoming as ever. You braced yourself as you turned the doorknob and stepped inside quietly. Viktor was sitting at one of the tiny desks you were cramped at with Jayce and didn’t even look up. You cleared your throat.

“Yes?” This time, he looked up. God, he looked angry. When he finally raised his eyes to meet yours, he only sighed. “I doubt I can do much for you, Y/N. Given that you know everything already.”

“That’s rich coming from a guy who broke into the lab to prove his point once. Yes, Jayce told me,” you smiled at him sweetly, referring to his second-year incident when he and Jayce breached the lab security at night and conducted an experiment they were forbidden to do by Heimerdinger himself. This got them secure spots for PhD and TA positions.

Seeing that there was absolutely nothing coming from his direction but a blank stare, you asked carefully, “Well… why did you fuck up?”

Viktor sighed again, stood up slowly, and walked toward you. “Some theatre girls got us drunk last night—Mel’s friends. And I messed up the notes. Chemistry is not my major, as you know.” A smirk started to paint his face as he observed your reaction to the mention of drinking with some girls.

Viktor decided to push you further, his smirk widening as he leaned against the desk. “It’s hard to focus when you’re surrounded by Mel’s friends, you know. A lot of distractions. I haven't quite shaken last night off me yet,” he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Your heart dropped at his words. You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, but something inside you shifted—you didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt. Viktor was deliberately drawing attention to some girls, and it stung more than you cared to acknowledge.

You scolded yourself internally. Stop it. Don’t let him get to you. But it was already too late. You could feel a pang of something—jealousy, maybe, or insecurity—but you refused to let it show.

Viktor, sensing your discomfort, didn’t let up. “By the way,” he said, his tone casual, “I took a closer look at your test. You know, given your answers, I understand how you worked out the correct proportions for the exercise. Same mistake you made on the test itself, right?”

Your stomach twisted, and your chest tightened. “So now you’re just going to relish in my defeat, aren’t you?” you shot back, your voice strained.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got far better things to relish in. Just making observations.”

You exhaled sharply, your anger bubbling over. “You know, because you were being such a dick, the thing I actually knew will probably lower my final grade now. Congratulations.”

Viktor’s smirk never faltered. “I wasn’t being a dick,” he said, voice smooth. “I was merely being a meticulous stiff bastard.” He leaned back, his tone laced with sarcasm. “You were quite vocal about that, if I recall. Something about me being a ‘pedantic pain in the ass’ when you were drunk.”

Your face flushed, your hand tightening into a fist at your side. That comment struck a nerve you hadn’t even realised was there. Your heart pounded. “Are you seriously so petty, Viktor, that you’re going to take revenge for some drunken slur by messing with my grade?” you snapped, your voice rising. You turned to leave, the weight of your frustration heavy on your chest.

But Viktor’s voice stopped you cold. “Wait,” he said, and for a moment, you thought he was going to apologise. Maybe even admit he’d gone too far.

You glanced over your shoulder, ready to hear some kind of redemption. But then Viktor’s tone shifted again. “You didn’t forget something, did you?”

You froze as he pulled your phone from his pocket and held it out to you, a mischievous gleam in his eye. The sight of your phone in his hand made your heart sink. You really are a bastard, you thought.

With strained composure, you took the phone from him. Your fingers brushed his, sending an unexpected jolt through you. Viktor’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary, and for the briefest second, you saw something flicker behind his usual cool façade. Something almost… uncertain.

Your stomach fluttered—No. Not now. Don’t let him do this to you.

You forced a tight smile, returning his gaze. “I can play this game too, Viktor,” you said, your voice low and controlled.

Viktor’s smirk faltered for a brief moment, and he leaned back against the desk, watching you with a hint of something deeper in his expression. His eyes softened, but he quickly masked it with another calculated look.

You turned to leave, your mind racing with frustration and another weird emotion you didn’t have the name for. Just before you reached the door, you felt a shift in the air. Viktor’s teasing had crossed a line, and somehow, the distance between you felt less like a joke and more like something real. Why does this matter so much to me?

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. Viktor hadn’t just teased you. He’d affected you, and you hated that. As you stepped out of the office, you could feel his gaze on your back, following you, studying your body. You scolded yourself internally for looking like a wreck and made your way to join Sue in the library.

Your friend regarded you with concern as you slid into the chair at the table, books already splayed out in front of her. “Did you get your phone back?”

“Yeah, it was a fight to the death,” you mumbled, sighing heavily as you opened a massive tome of genetics for the next lecture.

“And who died?” Sue asked, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Oh, definitely me this time.” You whined and dropped your head face-flat onto the table. “I don’t understand when this happened. Can you direct me to a point in time when Viktor woke up and chose violence?” you chuckled despite yourself.

“Um… I think it was some time after the party where that cute curly-haired guy with a poetic name clung to you the entire evening. Or—” she smirked—“you calling Viktor a meticulous stiff bastard.”

“Ambrose? I completely forgot about him,” you mused for a second. There had been an Ambrose sometime during your first weeks. He was from the theatre department too, full of big words, slightly obsessive, but overall nice. You never gave him your number, though, deciding it wasn’t meant to be.

“So you think Viktor loves me so much, jealousy rotted his guts?” you laughed a little too loudly, drawing a few irritated ‘shh!’ sounds from nearby students.

“Let’s say it’s my instinct,” Sue replied with a mischievous smile. “And remember, Y/N—trusting your instincts is key in science,” she added in a hushed, exaggerated Heimerdinger impression, causing you to suppress your laugh even further.

***

Viktor stretched in his chair. The last paper to check stared him in the eye, glaring at him almost as intensely as you had that morning. He groaned slightly at the pain in his leg as the door creaked open.

“Hi, partner,” Jayce greeted, shooting him a smile that was a mix of guilt and a plea for forgiveness. He’d left Viktor for an entire day to gallivant around campus with Mel. She had apparently needed strong arms to carry boxes of flyers advertising their winter show.

“Don’t ‘hi, partner’ me, Jayce,” Viktor huffed but smiled faintly under his nose. “How was it?”

“She’s really something, Vik. I can tell you over a beer?” Jayce offered, clearly still buzzing from his all-day hangout with his beautiful, smart, interesting, unique, elegant, new girlfriend.

“I think I’m going to call it a night. One last paper to check.” Viktor groaned slightly as he flipped your paper in front of his friend’s face. Jayce snatched it mid-air and studied it carefully for a minute.

“How come? I thought she was the only one to work around your… notes mishap?” Jayce tread carefully, noticing the frown forming on Viktor’s forehead. He knew exactly how Viktor had messed up the notes—sadly, it was partially his fault as well.

Viktor leaned back in his chair, still staring at the paper. “Yes, indeed, she was. She even tried to fix her answer when she put the test into the box,” he muttered quietly under his breath.

Jayce raised an eyebrow. “So why didn’t she?”

Viktor rolled his eyes, the motion quick and dismissive. “Because, Jayce, I don’t make exceptions for students who can't follow the rules.”

“Oh, Viktor,” Jayce sighed, shaking his head. “What did she do to get so deeply under your skin? Seriously, you're not usually like this.” Viktor was only mean and vigilant when he cared—or when he was hurt. That, Jayce knew. He just didn’t know which one it was.

Viktor shrugged nonchalantly, but there was an edge to his voice. “She’s just full of herself. Thinks she can do whatever she wants because she’s got it all figured out.”

Jayce’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “Oh, I see. Well, if someone’s getting on your nerves that much, it usually means they’re reflecting something about you that you don’t want to see.”

Viktor stared at him blankly, the words almost not registering. Then, he let out a short, mocking laugh. “When did you start spreading the wisdom of your people around the world, Jayce?”

Jayce leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms casually. “Mel teaches me how to talk to difficult people now. You know, learning to understand them and not just shut them down immediately.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, his tone sceptical. “Am I the difficult one here?”

Jayce’s grin widened. “Clearly. I mean, you’re willing to fuck up Y/N’s final grade over a sentiment. That’s not exactly… rational behaviour, is it?” He leaned into the desk, hoping for a moment of self-reflection from his friend.

Viktor was silent for a moment, then scoffed, trying to brush off the conversation. “It’s not like that. I’m not just doing it to be petty.”

Jayce leaned in slightly. “So, what did you tell Heimerdinger about the mishap?”

Viktor leaned forward as well, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. “I told him the truth—both of us fell asleep in the lab, working on our side project. I had to rush to class that morning. No big deal.”

Jayce nodded, processing this. “I’m sure Heimerdinger won’t bat an eyelid if you step up for Y/N, especially since she did well in class. If anything, she deserves some leniency.”

Viktor paused, looking at his friend thoughtfully. “I guess I could do that. Just… don’t think this is something I do for everyone,” he exhaled, rubbing his temple. “But I’ll talk to Heimerdinger.”

Jayce smirked, leaning back in his chair again. “There you go. Maybe Mel’s influence is working on you after all.”

Viktor shot him a look, clearly not amused. But deep down, he couldn't deny there was something about you that unsettled him—and, for some reason, it had started to bother him more than he cared to admit.

“Just keep your wisdom to yourself,” Viktor muttered. “And get out of my office. I still have work to do.”

Jayce chuckled but stood up, winking. “Hey, it’s my office as well! But yeah, I get the point.” As Jayce exited, Viktor stared at the paper before him, his mind occupied by frustration. A meticulous stiff bastard he was indeed.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #the game of teaching body

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bucketsofmonsters · 8 months ago

Text

Deep Water - Part 4

cw: the ocean, animal carcasses, rotting, malnourishment, more tags to be added as the story continues

merman x fem reader

Word count: 3k

read on ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

You woke up disoriented on an unfamiliar floor, the steady sounds of snoring filling your ears.

You turned to see Finn, still fast asleep as you rose from your little spot on the floor. He was bundled up in blankets, his head just barely peeking out of them enough to breathe.

You didn’t want to bother him. He’d done so much for you, the last thing you wanted to do was to disturb his rest.

In your attempt to begin to get ready without disturbing him, you managed to get your feet tangled in the loose blankets below you and tumble back to the floor.

You quickly righted yourself just in time to see Finn begin to shift, waking fitfully.

He groaned, eyes barely peeking open to look up at you. “Is… Oh. I forgot you were here.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He tried to wave dismissively but in his half-asleep state, it looked more like he attempted to clumsily swat a fly out of the air.

He rose from the bed slowly, a little unsteady on his feet. “I’ll find you some clothes.”

You took him in as he moved to the drawers beside the bed. He was a little scrawnier than the average man working on the docks and only a few inches taller than you, but still, you were sure that his clothes would fit you awkwardly, if at all. “You really don’t have to do that, my clothes are mostly dry now.”

“Nonsense, I have just the thing for you.”

And then he pulled out a dress, a practical one with reasonable skirts and allowance for movement. A dress you’d seen before.

You reeled back a little as you asked, “Why do you have my sister’s clothes?”

It came out harsher than you’d intended it to. Maybe the shock was to blame, you weren’t certain.

He deflated at your words, crumpling in on himself, his shoulders slumping as his face fell.

“I should have told you,” he said, visibly mortified. “I know I should have. You just… you look just like her.”

The realization hit you instantly. “You two were…”

“I wasn’t trying to replace her,” he said, rushing in to cut you off. “I mean, I couldn’t replace her even if I did want to. It was just… it was nice to see you. I could almost pretend, just a little.”

The more he tried to justify it, the more your heart sank. “How long were you together?” you asked, your voice flat and distant.”

“Years. She was everything to me.” His voice was low and sad, sadness that you were sure was for her and not for you, standing betrayed in front of him. Why would it be for you? How selfish could you be?

You almost wished he’d yelled at you. Then maybe it wouldn’t make you feel so bad. He seemed devastated and apologetic and all the things he could be and yet now that you knew you could just tell. You could see him looking at you like you were her, with faux, unearned affection in his eyes behind the heartbreak.

It made you furious. You wanted to throw something, to shout at him, to demand to be seen as a person, to be removed from her shadow.

But he was grieving, just as you were. Probably more.

The least you could to was be kind.

So you gave him a half-hearted, soft pat on his shoulder and tried to paint as much sympathy accross your face as you could manage.

“You didn’t mean any harm,” you said, and you knew it was true.

It still stung.

And then you took the dress from his hands, his grip softening as you reached for it, and you left.

You found an empty room to change in and went off to work as quickly as you could.

The next few weeks passed quickly, settling into an easy routine. Without Finn hovering over your shoulder as you worked, you were free to move quickly and mindlessly, doing your job exactly as intended and no more.

You stopped by to see Simon almost every day. The days you couldn’t, held up late at the docks, he no longer threw a complete fit. There was huffing and pouting but he hadn’t kindaped you again and you considered that progress.

In fact, after the stunt he’d pulled, he seemed hesitant to even get near you, like even his presence was tainted now. He was more careful than he’d been, asking before he did anything.

You supposed it was preferable over the alternative.

You and Finn had grown distant. He was clearly trying to give you space but you couldn’t quite breach that gap and bring yourself to talk to him so instead you let him fade away, sharing quiet polite smiles when you saw one another and nothing more. Your only real friend here now gone. Other than your monster that you still caught glimpses of below the docks, no matter how many times you warned him that it was ill-advised.

You didn’t mind going to see him. There was very little understanding between you but it felt nice, having him so eager to meet with you every day, shifting uncomfortably in shallow water that he braved for you.

It had been a bad day.

Nothing had happened, not really, but that awful ship was back. Every time you saw it, a wave of nausea overtook you, brought back to you kicking and screaming on the deck, inhaling rain as you huffed in breaths.

Finn had shot you a concerned look or two as he apparently read your nerves off your face, but he had kept his distance, respectful and stomach-churning.

You wanted him to come check in on you, something he clearly wanted to do, but you still refused to go speak with him first. You couldn’t do it, couldn’t return to him like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, offering yourself as your sister’s replacement if he’d just speak to you.

So instead, at the end of an awful day, you scurried off the docks to your spot, content that you’d at least get to see your siren.

On the shore, where you usually sat, lay the tail end of a sea lion, bloody with bones sticking out, looking almost rotted.

You looked into the water to find amber eyes staring back at you, wide and expectant.

You knew instantly he’d brought it here, though you couldn’t fathom why. It wasn’t a fresh kill, instead looking like it had been pulled off a beach somewhere where it’d washed up.

A sense of shame flickered in his eyes, fighting back a grimance as you noticed it.

“Do you want it?” he asked, head nodding towards the carcass.

“No,” you said, and he reeled back, not looking surprised but seeming upset all the same.

“It’s the best I could do,” he said, eyes downcast. “I’ve been trying to find something better but I’m not built for this.”

His voice was tinged in a sense of bitterness and frustration and you wished you knew what he was talking about so you could comfort him. Or at least understand why he was upset.

“Built for what? Why is this here?”

“It was supposed to be food,” he said with a huff. “I have nothing for you. I can’t provide you anything.”

“Provide me… You don’t need to provide for me, I can get my own food.”

“You shouldn’t have to. I want to… I want to show you I can keep you safe but I can’t. Couldn’t even keep you fed.”

As he spoke, you really took him in, sitting behind a rotting carcass that wasn’t fit for anyone to eat.

What had he been eating if after weeks, this was the best he could bring you?

And then it struck you, the way he’d begun positioning himself in the shallows, stomach carefully down, arms in front of it, shifted away from you.

“Come here,” you said, trying to keep your words soft.

He looked like he was about to cry but he shifted forwards all the same.

You fought back a gasp as he finally let you get a good look at him.

He looked emaciated. Where soft, plump skin used to be, it instead had begun to pull taught over ribs that looked sharper than the human ribs you were accustomed to.

With the new context, you could see it in his face too, his full cheeks beginning to bow in.

“What happened to you?” you asked, cursing yourself that you could have missed this, could have let him keep his distance and hide this from you so easily.

“I’m not good at hunting,” he said, rufusing to meet your gaze.

“You were fine before, what changed?”

He shifted and you could see a war waging inside his head, the conflict written accrosss his features.

You waited, owing him patience at least.

Finally, he seemed to come to a decision and he spoke, still sad and low but with a sense of finality rising behind it.

“We’re not hunters, we’re not built for it. Not fast enough or sharp enough. We’re built to lure in prey but… you’re a person. If I hadn’t stopped to talk to you, you’d just be gone, drowned and devoured, and I wouldn’t even have known that it hurt, let alone… I can’t do it anymore,” his words had shifted from sad and low to frustrated and sharp. “I can’t hunt so I can’t eat fish but I can’t do it anymore. Every time I look at them I keep just seeing you.”

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes at the thought that you had done this to him. The revelation that he’d been eating humans fell by the wayside at the sight of sad eyes on a gaunt face that used to be warm and soft.

And you couldn’t even do anything about it. You didn’t have the resources to get him fish, not after the measly few weeks you’d spent here. You had barely managed to find yourself lodgings in a grimy old inn, barely eating enough to keep up your strength.

But you had to. You couldn’t just leave him to this, in this situation that you’d dragged him into when you’d gotten thrown off that ship. When on the worst day of your life, he saw easy prey in front of him and decided to be kind.

And then an idea came to you. An awful idea, sure, but the only one you had.

You muttered a quiet “wait here” before you stood up and sprinted back to the dock, knowing you had to catch him before he left.

Finn’s face lit up when he saw you nearing him, relief pulling the tension out of his shoulders and bringing a soft smile to his face.

You grabbed his hand and with a soft noise of confusion escaping him, you dragged him down to your isolated little spot on the beach.

The whole time you pulled him along, as he followed you without question, you tried to think how to explain any of this to him.

You kept moving as you wracked your brains, needing to solve this, needing to know it could be fixed, and you came up with nothing.

Anything would be better than just bringing him in blind, a fact you realized seconds too late, arriving at your spot on the shore.

You saw the panic in Simon’s eyes seconds before disaster hit. Right before Finn noticed him, he was being snatched into the water, pale arms hooked under his armpits, holding him down in the shallows. It seemed mainly like shock and confusion that kept Finn down. Submerged in deep water he wouldn’t stand a chance, but here, in the shallows, against a malnourished and emotional siren; he could’ve taken him easily.

But he didn’t, instead thrashing a little with eyes wide and he tried to take in the simultaneous facts that sirens were real and that one had just dragged him into the water.

“He’s here to help, drop him,” you snapped, shooting a harsh look at Simon.

“I didn’t even do anything wrong,” he said, a grouchy look crossing his face as he let Finn go, drifting nervously back into the water. You recognized it for what it was. He was preparing for his escape, just in case.

You didn’t blame him for the instinct. To be honest, it was a good one. Blind trust like that in anyone could get him killed.

You hoped this wouldn’t be one of those times. You hoped you’d prove him wrong.

Your hand snapped out to grab Finn’s wrist as he tried to stagger away, eyes wide and frightened.

“Finn,” you said, keeping your voice measured and level. “This is Simon. He’s a friend.”

You didn't think you'd ever seen such panic and betrayal in his eyes, his face normally light and happy. He was breathing heavy, eyes darting between the two of you like he couldn't quite believe he wasn't about to get pulled back in.

Finn looked down at your hand encircling his wrist. He tested his strength against yours, almost pulling away before deciding to let you keep him there. Ever patient, he didn’t take the out, he didn't run. He waited, by your side, nervous but steady.

His breaths slowed, taking stock of Simon in the water.

You weren’t sure who looked more frighted, both sizing one another up, ready to bolt should the need arise.

You left them to it, terrified that any sudden movement would shatter the tentative peace that was forming between them.

He nodded slowly, eyes not moving from Simon, shivering slightly in newly wetted clothes. “And why exactly,” he began, eyes locked onto Simon, “did you want me to meet this friend of yours?”

“Um. So he wants to stop eating people,” you said, wincing as you heard yourself and the reality of what you'd just said sunk in.

“He eats people?” Finn asked, his voice spiking up in panic as his head whipped towards you.

“And he would like to stop. If we can’t help him, what do you think he’s going to start doing again?”

“It’s not my fault!” Simon huffed from the water. “The fish don’t hate you for eating them, why do you get to be mad at me?”

“The fish aren’t people,” Finn insisted, arms wrapping around himself as he shivered in the cold air.

“And you aren’t sirens. I thought you were stupid anyway, like fish.”

“You thought we were like fish?”

Simon shrugged. “Not like fish. But the difference from you to fish is like the difference from you to me. Or… I thought so. We might have been wrong. I don’t know, I just eat.”

He seemed uncomfortable with having to explain himself, shifting in the water as he glanced at you every few seconds.

It took a moment for you to realize what he was looking for. It was approval, you could see him searching for it in your eyes.

You weren’t sure you could give it to him. Your stomach churned at his words but you could feel how earnest he was, could hear the confusion and distress in his voice.

He hadn’t thought he was doing anything wrong. Why would he? He was just doing what sirens had always done and now he wasn’t so sure about it any longer and his whole past was filled with deaths he didn’t know if he could justify anymore.

How would you feel, you wondered, if you met a fish one day and that fish told you it was afraid? If it told you that it told stories to its young about your kind and how they’d snatch it up and cook it over an open flame.

Would it be your fault? Would those deaths be on your conscience?

Would you ever have the presence of mind to see a fish, alone in strange waters, and save it? Could you even do what Simon had done, take that first step?

Your heart hurt for him, alone in his crisis, with no one to talk to about it. His only options were his kind that depended on these horrible deaths to survive and you. And his prey.

Finn pulled you aside, far from out of Simon's earshot but it seemed to settle him a little bit to at least feign privacy.

“What do you want me to do here?” Finn hissed.

“I want to help him. He saved my life and… and even if he didn't, is this not for the best? He wants to do better, we can't just not help him.”

He nodded, hesitant but willing. “Okay, so what now.”

“I don’t know. He can eat fish, we know that for sure. Maybe other food too? Do you think he can eat human food?”

Finn pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I don’t know. How would I know? I guess I can get him fish, we could sneak a couple out and buy some before we leave at night. Would that be enough?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea.”

He sighed. “Great."

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this, I just didn’t know anyone else I could go to.”

He gave you a soft smile. “It’s the least I could do. Now, I’m going to go scrounge something up, you keep your little siren company.”

You shot him one last grateful look before settling down on the beach, water lapping at your shoes.

Simon pulled himself out of the water a bit, trying to get closer to you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

You took his hand from where it lay, shifting nervously over some rocks, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I know.”

#terato #merman x reader #merman x human #monster x reader #monster x human #monster bf #monster boyfriend #merman #I'm so curious how people's opinions of Finn have changed #are they better or worse idk #I swear some smooching will happen soon I just got lost in the sauce #also I will get Simon's chub levels back up nobody panic #I need him to be cute and soft its important

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megalomaniacz · 2 years ago

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NONSENSE

🍦 lookin' at you got me thinkin' nonsense 🍓

pairing: ellie williams x reader

synopsis: celebrating your 2 year anniversary with ellie!

warnings: fingering + strap on sex (r!recieving), ellie’s strap is referred to as her cock (thought it was silly, imagine it purple)

author’s note: i refuse to read this more than once I COULD BARELY EDIT IT IDK also thank u all so much for the recent love u don’t know how much it means to me <3 check out my other stuff on @abbysvictim

tags: @lonelyfooryouonly <3 my wife!

you could only dream of a love as sweet as the one ellie had provided you with these past two years. her heart, a never ending well of love, was placed into your hands the moment she laid eyes on you. she’ll tell the story until it traps her tongue.

dina had invited you to a popup show of hers. your sweet smile was contagious and forever genuine. curved lines in the creases of your mouth after every joke she told. ellie wanted to live in the ridges of those lines. she wanted to breathe your scent in forever. hear you praise her playing until she became proud of it herself.

she was hooked. could barely spit out the words while asking dina for your number.

now it was your anniversary. you and ellie were in the kitchen enjoying strawberries and whipped cream (one of her absolute favorites). she takes some of the cream and places it on your neck, the sticky solid causing you to cringe. you have no time to respond when her lips latch onto the area, sucking softly.

a very low and very desperate moan escapes your lips. she pushes you up against the counter grinding, her crotch into your ass. the motion causes your mouth to fall open and she stuffs two fingers in, pushing them against your tongue.

“you’re so beautiful baby.” she whispers, a hand slipping into the front of your pants from behind. she buries it into your panties, not surprised to find you already wet for her.

she grinds against you once more causing your cunt to collide with her hand. your moan is muffled by her fingers in your mouth and you start to trail drool down her arms.

she loves fucking you, and loves fucking with you even more. lips placing aggressive kisses on your neck while she watches you come undone against her fingers. your vision runs hazy with her pace. she’s curled them so perfectly to hit the spot that makes your soul leave your body. you felt like you might squirt and make a mess of yourself and the kitchen floor.

she’s not done with you when you finish. she never is. quick to lead you and your wobbly legs to the couch, fingers never leaving your mouth. she’s always prepared, cock already latched up and ready to go.

she carefully places you over it, smiling as your eyes travel to the back of your head when you lower yourself. she could almost laugh at how easily she slipped in.

and now she didn’t want you moving a single muscle. it was time for you to just enjoy yourself. her hips bucked up into you at an erratic pace. slow and deep, then she’d speed up, then slow and deep again. she repeated this until she had you screaming, a ring of your slick covering the base of her cock and your cunt leaving a pool of wetness on her boxers.

this was heaven. your precious moans in her ear as the sound of her slamming in and out of your cunt echoed in the room. the sound was giving the both of your butterflies. yeah, you could definitely do two more years of this.

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eves4pple · 9 months ago

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MUKAMI HOUSEHOLD HC’S

A/n: Long time no see!! Work and life got super crazy but I’ve been indulging in Diabolik Lovers again! Alongside that! For a few months I’ve been rewriting DL (more like my own au!!) just small tweaks and adding more realistic characterizations to characters I enjoy! So I decided to make a list of my headcanons for the Mukami household + Yui (she’s my beauty)

TW: slight mention and hint at abuse, mention of sexual abuse, mention of animal death

Take all of these at face value I’ve done my research to the best of my abilities and are basing this off of the things I’ve read, played, and watched! Plus my own little personal things!

- A quieter household. Each brother seems to have their own hobbies and tends to stick to themselves. This doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy each others company, they seem like the only group to like REALLY enjoy being around each other. Brother banter and all that nonsense.

- isn’t the safest but compared to the Sakamaki household Yui is in less danger. She actually spends more time pursuing schooling and smaller hobbies here without much backlash. Yuma and her garden often and Ruki helps her study. But of course this kinda stuff is paid back in blood so, you win some loose some

- Yuma will tease all 3 brothers for their height, I believe this may be canon? But it’s really Kou he has spats with over their heights. As an idol Kou is notoriously over dramatic and borderline narcissistic (and very full of himself) so he’s kinda pissy Yuma hangs his height over his head, but it’s all in good fun! (Usually)

-Yui and Ruki don’t really get along in the beginning. Which duh, but after a long period of time Yui began to get annoyed with being bossed around? I mean I would to, so he kinda grossed her out. Too much like an Ayato Reiji mix

- it’s mentioned either that in a CD or clip from more blood (the game) that Yui housed a kitten and was healing it back to health and Ruki killed it. This also kinda solidified their relationship into not being great. Yui believes very strongly in her morals and Ruki is one to oppose them. Meaning that in her eyes he’s cruel and in his she’s weak.

- Azusa is super interested in religions. Not like in them but he thinks the rules and regulations are kinda interesting to look into, he asks Yui a lot of questions about her faith and what it means to her.

- Yuma and Yui get along the best, the brothers were once human and I feel like don’t lack empathy to the extent pure bloods do. Course they will make comments that have Yui going “???” Because they are still entitled vampires

- The kinda group to have annoying ass orders at cafes. They don’t go out as a group much but when they get the chance they do. So when Yui joined she tagged along (of course they were like helicopter parents). Kou wants something sweet all the time so it’s either a milkshake/frappe nonsense, Ruki is the one who makes in super obvious he “just wants a black coffee. Black, no sugar or cream”, now Azusa’s order isn’t hard but he’s so quiet that it’s hard to catch it all so it’s usually made wrong on accident. Yuma sticks to the same thing but it’s a coffee with like 13 different steps that by the end it’s like a concoction of sugar, cream, flavoring, and coffee.

- Yui has an easy order, usually a tea. She avoids most coffee’s due to her sleep already being out of whack

- Yui has nightmares often due to the abuse she’s faced and she’s semi opened up to Azusa abt them in passing but tends to shut it down if pried.

- Ruki is stressed almost always. With the stress of being Adam kinda solely falling on his shoulders he doesn’t sleep often or even at all.

- this is supposedly canon but, Yuma likes bigger curvy girls in my mind :3

- Kou likes Kesha, Megan, and other female rap/pop artists. I also feel like Yui also dabbles with that kinda music but it isn’t her favorite

- Yuma’s the kinda brother that gives his brothers the faulty gaming controller :/

- Yuma and Kou smoke weed 100% idk I feel like they’d enjoy it, Ruki has a few times but usually just tells them off. Azusa has zero interest, Yui also has dabbled and she enjoyed it but getting high with like supernatural creatures can be… anxiety inducing?

- Ruki seems like one of those kids who’d have a super non trad kinda pet? Idk a snake or something. Not messy, loud, and chill

- Kou seems like the type to be sex repulsed often? He’s an idol and gets sexualized a lot in the limelight so bad correlation but even if he hates it he still does it to Yui

- Yui also is very sex repulsed

- yuma has a hard time coming to terms with his past with Shuu? It’s a weird grief thingy

- I feel like sometimes, only sometimes, they miss being human. I believe it’s semi mentioned already. But I feel like when Yui started living with them they started noticing that feeling more in an angry/sad way.

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers fandom #diahell #dialovers #headcanons #yuma mukami #ruki mukami #kou mukami #azusa mukami #yui komori

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dootznbootz · 1 month ago

Note

I don’t have a link but I saw a post along the lines of “EPIC fans trying to gaslight themselves into thinking Odysseus wouldn’t cheat (he does in the books)” and I nearly had a conniption.

Some people WERE arguing he was assaulted, but other people were saying it depends on the interpretation and saying he has a child with Circe and that he stays on the island with her for a year. I also saw someone say he was just lying about being assaulted on another post about it.

The Odyssey/EPIC fandom is so exhausting I’ve thought about blocking everything sometimes ngl. It’s so hard to filter out posts like that. But there’s so much amazing art and content about it I don’t want to stop seeing it.

No, like that's the struggle of it.

I Love Epic and I technically got into the Odyssey BECAUSE of Epic. But I'm a hardcore Odyssey girly. I adore it so much. I've read 8 translations at this point because I love it so much and it's fun for me! And Epic is in no way a replacement for the Odyssey (Jay even says that it's not! he's simply inspired by the Odyssey) and it feels like high quality fanfiction of the Odyssey (FUN! JOYOUS WHIMSY! I still like it! :3 ).

But holy shit, like, both Epic AND Tagamemnon fans can be so fucking exhausting. (I am a fan of both. I can say this.)

(Obviously I'm not talking about everyone. <3 I've made many friends and have met lovely people in both fandoms.)

Like while yes, Epic!Odysseus isn't coerced/raped by either of the goddesses, that's simply because of the fact that Jay simply felt like he wasn't well equipped to handle such dark topics to that extent. And I honestly respect him for that! He knows his limits with the story he wanted to tell and that's good! And in general I think he did a fantastic job handling the aspects of it he did touch on (Coercion with Circe's threatening in "There Are Other Ways" is done well imo.)

(ngl, I kind of take back what I said about "Not Sorry for Loving You". I think a lot of my reaction was initially from my fear of how fandom would react. But I've been delightfully surprised seeing how (for the most part) Epic Fandom has really come through to show the "fucked up-ness" of that song)

THAT DOES NOT MEAN THAT ODYSSEUS IN THE ODYSSEY IS A SHITTIER HUSBAND BECAUSE HE, IN THE ANCIENT TEXT, CANNOT SAY NO TO A GODDESS.

Greek Mythology isn't like Percy Jackson where 12 year old Percy beat Ares. (I was a PJO KID TOO!) It's not "Odysseus didn't try hard enough" fucking victim blaming btw because HE LITERALLY CANNOT REFUSE OR THEN HE'LL (AND HIS FRIENDS IN THE CASE OF CIRCE) WOULD DIE!!!

Like I wrote a whole ass essay on Circe's Situation (I feel so preachy and shitty about having to constantly bring it up but I will as much as I have to to get people to listennnn) and in general, if you can't see what's happening with Calypso, you've got your head up your ass and/or are just looking away because you don't like the actual implications of what's happening. For the main "gripe" I've seen with Calypso with how "He enjoyed her company at first", @lyculuscaelus has a great essay breaking that down.

And before? ODYSSEUS HAS NO LISTED CONCUBINES! And he brings up Penelope often in the Iliad!

And the whole "lying about being assaulted", I'm sorry but if someone is holding the "Men were so sexist that they couldn't possibly care about the women in their lives or have been victims" idea, then why would Odysseus willfully share that he was raped by women? Who, as they say, were viewed beneath him? Why would he lie about something that would put him in such a humiliating light?

Btw, Menelaus (sealy boy!!!) even says that he's being held captive by Calypso with what he learned from Proteus! Menelaus isn't known for telling stories!

I feel bad as like, I used to LOVE going into the tags and finding creators I haven't seen before and cheering them on! Art and Fics and yay! But like... It's sometimes so disheartening going in there and seeing nonsense or bad takes ;~;

Honestly, as much as I DO enjoy Epic, I think that hopefully once the hype dies down a lil, it'll chill out more :') We'll all be okay!

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 6 months ago

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One For The Road [2]

Cecil Dennis x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Series Masterlist

Summary: You haven't spoken to Cecil since what happened last week.

A/N: Another huge thank you to @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading again and putting up with my nonsense! <3

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, reader has been drinking - but not enough to affect them, mentions of weed, catching feelings and self denial of catching feelings, fingering, oral sex (afab!receiving), jerking off, cumming on someone, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 2186

I Saw This Coming From The Start

It had been a week. A full week since you’d seen him. Since you’d practically run out of the front door when Harry had come in, making up some excuse to leave that you can’t even remember now.

He’d messaged the next day. Gentle, and kind. Apologising without explicitly saying what he was apologising for. Which had made you feel bad because it wasn’t like he had tried something with you and gotten pissy when you’d rejected him.

No, you’d wanted it, still want it. And that was the problem really.

You hadn’t messaged back, trying to push it all to the back of your mind and further still. Tonight you’d gone out on a shit date. So boring and dull that you’d made a hasty exit and drowned your sorrows in a local bar.

It wasn’t like you were flat out drunk, just a little buzzed. Two drinks more than you normally would in that short timeframe. And all you could do was think about stupid Cecil and his stupid curls and stupidly thick fingers.

You’d sent him a message before you could think twice.

Are you busy?

He’d messaged back almost instantly. No. You okay?

Where are you?

Home.

Alone?

You’d been in the Uber before he even replied yes.

The smile he’d given you when he’d opened the front door to your knock had almost broken your heart.

“Hey!” He’d hugged you with one arm, purposefully not getting too close as he ushered you into the living room. “I’m so glad you texted.” He smelt very obviously of weed. “I was getting worried, I mean,” he pulls a face. “Not worried. You’re an adult, you can do what you want, of course you can, I mean,” he rubs the back of his head, “I mean, I mean, I upset you didn’t I? I was a jerk, I’m so sorry, I-”

You turn quickly and kiss him, pressing your lips to his demandingly.

He groans, his eyes fluttering closed as you lick into his mouth. He tastes the alcohol on your tongue. “Wait,” he swallows, moving back a step. “You’re drunk.”

“No.”

He gives you those soft eyes that can absolutely destroy your resolve in less than ten seconds, the UN should class that look as a war crime.

“I just had a few drinks.” You glare at him.

He lightly brushes your arm and you shrug him away, frowning.

The soft look he gives you stings.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You snarl.

“Like what?”

“All puppy dog eyes and shit, it’s not fair.”

He pauses, “Puppy dog eyes?”

“Yeah,” you motion to him, “you know the look, makes you all sweet and soft and cute, and makes it really fucking hard to not do what you want.”

He smiles ever so slightly. “You think it’s cute?”

“I think you’re cute.” You say grumpily.

His smile widens. “I think you’re cute too.” He steps closer, running his hands on your biceps.

“So kiss me.”

“Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you a glass of water, okay? A clean glass?” He gives you a jokey smile, trying to make you laugh.

You do your best to resist and shrug. “I don’t want a glass of water, I’m…”

“You’re?”

You sigh deeply, fighting down your embarrassment as you half mumble. “Can we… can we do what we did… last time?”

He watches you softly, giving you time to make it clear what you really want.

You sigh again, practically a groan. And when you speak you purposefully look at the wall and not his stupidly handsome face. “Can we watch some porn and mess around?”

He smiles and nods. “You sure?”

You give him a look.

“Okay,” he giggles, “if you’re sure.”

He brings you a glass of water in the promised clean glass anyway, and a packet of cookies. He places them in your hands before dragging over the small coffee table and putting it to your side of the sofa, then taking the packet and glass and putting them on there for you.

Cecil grins when he’s finished, beaming like he’s worked out a partially difficult mental puzzle. You don’t want to find it as endearing as you do.

He sits down next to you, grabbing his phone. “Anything you wanna watch?”

You shrug, not quite expecting this direction. “Um, what would you recommend?” You want to smack yourself in the face, who the fuck asks someone what porn they would recommend? Like this was some fancy restaurant with a waiter giving you the wine list. ‘Oh yes, with the water and cookies, I’d recommend a nice fuck with a cum shot.’

“Well,” he shifts in his seat excitedly, “Actually, I watched some of this the other day, I thought it was good.”

Okay, maybe this was the place you came to to get porno recommendations.

“It’s a glory hole video, is that okay?” He looks up at you sweetly, the earnestness in his eyes is bewitching.

You nod and swallow and his grin widens.

“Awesome.” He clicks the video, casting it to the TV. “Harry’s gonna be out until really late, so don’t worry about interruptions this time.”

You wiggle a little and nod again. This was a bad idea actually, wasn’t it? Now that you were thinking about it, it was a really bad idea. A really, really, really, really bad idea. You could forgive last week, that had been… that was an accident. This was… intentional. Fool me once, and all that. This was you going out of your way to-

“You’re wearing jeans, can I…?” He gave you those stupidly large puppy eyes, you could feel the yearning rolling off him in waves.

You nod, undoing your buttons and fly as he scrambles off the sofa onto his knees. He loops his fingers under your waistband and tugs when you raise your hips.

He pulls your jeans down eagerly to your thighs, then grabs your panties, yanking them down as well and pulling both off your legs, leaving you completely bare from the waist down.

You swallow, heat rising to your face. You hadn’t expected him to take everything off straight away.

On the television a naked woman deepthroats a large cock that is pressing through a taped hole in a bathroom wall. She’s whining and slurping, her free hand between her legs.

“Oh fuck,” Cecil breathes deeply, lightly pressing on your knees to spread your legs. “I was so right,” he bites his lip, groaning. “Such a pretty pussy, oh god.” He squeezes his cock through his sweats and gulps, closing his eyes for a second. “Prettiest I’ve ever seen, fuck.”

You swallow, holding your breath as he inches closer on his knees.

He brushes the edge of his calloused thumb against your clit, seeming mesmerised as your muscles jump and twitch under his touch.

“God, yeah.” He groans under his breath and presses firmer, lightly tracing the outline of the bundles of nerves before he rubs up and down and side to side.

You let out a little moan, your fingers digging into the cushions beside you.

Cecil lets out a long whine, “Oh, you’re so wet, I can see it.” He looks up at you from under his long eyelashes for a second before going back to your dripping cunt. “Looks amazing.”

He rubs his thumb constantly, oohing and ahhing softly at every minuscule movement.

Your breathing hitches, heat running along your skin and tightening in your belly.

Ever so slowly he runs the fingers of his other hand up your leg and presses them to your aching slit, rubbing your lips and smearing your wetness all over your pussy. He groans when you twitch and moan softly, his eyes darkening rapidly second by second.

“Mmmmm,” he hums loudly, inching his fingers forward as his thumb rubs you, pushing them in a few centimetres before pulling them out and whining at the slick coating his skin. He pushes in deeper, firmly sheathing them all the way in one long move and curling them until your thighs jump and you gasp.

“Oh fuck, yes, yes, yes,” he groans, watching intently and then, “fuck, sorry, I gotta,” he darts forward, removing his thumb from your clit and kissing your folds.

You moan, back arching from the sofa, your hand flying to the back of his head to pull him closer and he whimpers, sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth.

“Cecil,” your whine harmonises with his as pleasure curls and spreads with every heavy pump and plunge of his fingers, with every caress of his tongue and lips. “Shit, that’s,” your words leave you breathlessly, your voice sounding completely wrecked already. “That’s really good, fuck, please,” you buck against his mouth, grinding up to his fingers as he works you over eagerly, rapidly bringing you closer and closer to your peak.

Pleasure sings along every nerve, making your thighs shake and your eyes roll back as he groans and licks and sucks like you’re his only source of oxygen.

You dig your fingers into his hair, scraping your nails lightly across his scalp, making him shiver and moan louder.

Your mind is turning into mush, dissolving into nothing as your body races after your orgasm, demanding more and more and more from his sinful mouth.

Part of you can’t work out how he got so good at this, how many pussys has he buried his face in? How could his ex dump him when he was this good? Fuck, even if you were tired of his shit you could just tie him to the bed and sit on his face for a few hours each day and that would more than make up for it.

Cecil’s cock throbs, each moan that leaves your lips making him harder, needier. He can feel his precum soaking into his boxers as your slick drenches his chin.

He shudders, so close to coming in his pants again and not giving one flying fuck.

“Cec,” Your grip on the back of his head tightens, your thighs shaking and tensing, your body rising up and against him. You’re so close, hanging right on the edge with his tongue flicking kitten licks in time with how his fingers rub against your walls, playing you perfectly to his will.

He hums against you, swirling his tongue and you scream, clenching around him as you come so hard. It washes over you, piercing your limbs and shocking every muscle with bliss. You shake, grinding against his mouth as he groans greedily.

He pulls his fingers from your fluttering pussy, grabbing hold of the back of your thighs and just buries his face in your cunt. He laps and sinks his tongue deep inside, pressing the bridge of his nose against your clit and shaking his head from side to side ever so slightly as he drinks down every single drop of your release. Needing everything.

He loosens his grip on you when you start to relax, your muscles untensing. He lets go, struggling with his waistband and pulling his sweatpants and boxers down just enough so that his thick cock springs free with a dull thud. He wipes his mouth and chin with the palm of his right hand before he grabs hold of his dick, using your cum as lubricant as he rapidly jerks himself off, his eyes rolling back.

His cock is so pretty, thick and long and ruddy red at the leaking, needy tip.

“Cecil,” you whine and his eyes snap open instantly, his hips jerking as he nears his peak. You bite your lip, fuck he looks so beautiful, sweaty and wanting and desperate. “Come on me.” You whisper.

He groans, “On you?”

You spread your legs wider, pulling your legs up to your chest and holding them there. “Come on my pussy.”

He sobs, standing so quickly he almost falls and has to grab hold of the back of the sofa with his free hand to stop himself from falling. He jerks once, twice, moaning so loudly as his hips move on autopilot and pleasure runs down his spine and explodes. He comes with a cry, shooting his load all over your pussy and the back of your thighs.

He keeps coming, unable to stop as he spurts and splatters, painting your skin with his seed.

He gasps, slumping forward for a second and breathing hard, “fuuuuuuucccck.” He whines, shivering with the aftershocks.

You watch him with large eyes, mesmerised with how his lips are parted, how flushed his skin looks. Like some ancient painting of a god.

Suddenly he drops to his knees again, pressing his palms to your legs to keep you folded over.

“Cecil-” You yelp in surprise, about to ask what he’s doing when he shoves his tongue back into your core, slurping up the mess he made between your legs and sucking once more on your clit until you moan.

“Just cleaning up.” He mumbles, his voice thick with lust before he dives back in.

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho

@steven-grants-world @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie

@silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings @spxctorsslxt

@novarosewood @pygmi-cygni

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#cecil dennis #revenge for jolly #cecil dennis x reader #x reader #cecil dennis x you #x you #cecil dennis x afab reader #afab reader #cecil dennis x female reader #x female reader #cecil dennis x f!reader #x f!reader #cecil dennis x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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candiedcoffeedrops · 8 months ago

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Your Voice (Jude Jazza x Reader)

Jude Jazza x Fem!Reader (Jude's POV/Perspective)

SFW -- WC: 1765

Fluffy, sweet indulgent nonsense that I thought of whilst avoiding sleep at 3 in the morning about a week and change ago lol.

Alright, so this is my first reader insert in thirteen years! I have been working on this for the last few days in between work and whatnot and most of the time was like, 10% writing and 90% worrying if I was writing this bastard man that I have grown to love very rapidly correctly or not. I'm open to suggestions on how to improve, I just ask that it be kind/respectful, please. :)

Thanks a million to @judejazza for inspiring me to work on this! You're awesome and I hope you like this!

Also! No beta, we die like the dude in the prologue.

Today had been long and irritating.

You had tagged along with me and Ellis today, as usual. An early morning of routine business turned into a busy afternoon of hunting down people who had broken contracts and taking them to task. That quickly escalated, and you nearly got yourself hurt. Again.

We had just gotten back to Crown Castle a few hours ago and had gone about our business. It had been a couple of months since your initial one-month tenure had come and gone, and you had stupidly decided that you were going to stay.

I couldn’t understand why. Crown wasn’t a place for someone like you—soft, kind-hearted, and ridiculously naive. You belonged somewhere safe, somewhere untouched by the dark and violent world I—and all of us—were steeped in. Yet, here you were, stubborn as hell, refusing to leave. Maybe you thought you could change us, make us better. Foolish. But damned if it wasn’t… endearing. Tch. I must be getting soft.

As I walked through the halls of the castle, I noticed light peeking out from under your door. You were still awake? It was definitely past midnight at this point. Curious, I approached the door and knocked with the knuckle of my index finger.

“Oi, Princess! The fuck ya still up for?”

“Oh! Come in, Jude!”

I opened your door and stepped inside, pushing the door shut with my foot, my hands in my pockets.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your head cocked to the side curiously.

I raised an eyebrow and spoke, “I asked first.”

“I can’t sleep, so I thought I’d get a book from the library and try to read myself asleep but… then I got sucked into the story.” You admitted as light pink dusted your cheeks, returning your attention to your book. You were sitting on your bed, atop your covers, eyes scanning the pages of an open book in your hands. Your room was lit by the lamp on your desk near your typewriter, casting a dim warm glow over everything, including you. Your hair framed your face, and you were dressed in your nightclothes like you had started getting ready for bed but never actually went to sleep.

I strolled up to your bed and plucked the book from your hands.

“Hey! Give that back!” You swung your legs under you, trying to swipe the book from me. “Jude!”

Ah, that cute little face and the way you said my name when you were all frustrated would never get old.

“Why? Ya readin’ somethin’ ya shouldn’t?” I teased, holding the book just out of reach. I took a step back, skimming through the pages. “Is that why ya can’t sleep? Gettin’ all hot ‘n bothered?” My eyes scanned the words.

She stood beneath the crumbling archway of the cathedral, where the moonlight filtered through the cracks and bathed her in a silvery glow, her heart pounding with the weight of forbidden love.

I rolled my eyes. Tch. How boring. Just some romantic penny dreadful. Figures. You would be into this kind of shit. Star-crossed lovers and all that nonsense.

“Ya realize none of this is realistic, yeah?” I asked, waving the book dismissively. Your cheeks puffed into an adorable pout, and I chuckled.

“I don’t read it for the realism, Jude,” you replied, matter-of-factly. “I read it because it’s entertaining. Fun.”

“What’s so fun about somethin’ so obviously false?” I asked, flipping through a few more pages while you leaned over, trying to grab your book again. I held it out of reach. “Yer gonna get it back when I decide ya can have it back, got it?”

You sighed, crawling back into bed, sitting against the headboard. “That’s better.”

“Why are you playing keep away with my book?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Repayment for nearly gettin’ yer clumsy ass hurt again.”

You growled lightly. Adorable. “But I didn’t! You were there!”

I huffed, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, well, ya shouldn’t need me to save ya all the time. Learn to stay outta trouble.”

You gave me a defiant look, your chin lifting slightly. “I’m not helpless, Jude. I can take care of myself.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Yeah? Then why were ya about to get skewered earlier?”

Your cheeks flushed, eyes widening. “I was just… distracted.”

“By what? Thinkin’ of garbage like this?” I asked, holding up the book and waving it lightly.

“It’s not garbage!” you shot back, your eyes blazing with a fire I rarely saw. “It’s a good story, and I like it.”

“Tch. It’s drivel, Princess.” I glanced at the open pages, scanning a few more lines with a sneer. “Moonlight, forbidden love... absolute nonsense.”

You crossed your arms, a stubborn set to your jaw. “If it’s so bad, then why don’t you prove it by reading some of it?”

I raised an eyebrow, a chuckle rumbling in my chest. “Ya want me to read this crap? To ya?”

“Yeah, I do.” You leaned forward, eyes gleaming with challenge. “I bet you can’t get through a single page without falling asleep.”

My tongue ran along my bottom teeth beneath my lip as I walked closer to you and leaned down, towering over you. “Is that a dare, Princess?” I looked at you, my smirk widening into a grin. “Alright, but don’t blame me when ya realize how bad it is.”

“Alright,” you said, settling back with a satisfied smile. “But you have to read it properly. Like you mean it.” You shifted, laying down on your side, facing me, your head cushioned perfectly by your pillow.

I snorted. “Fine. But if I read this and prove it’s trash, ya gotta stop readin’ this stuff.” I lightly tapped the spine of the book to your forehead. “It’ll rot yer little brain even more than it already is. Got it?”

Your eyes sparkled. “Deal.”

I sighed, sitting down unceremoniously into a chair that was by your bedside, my ankle crossed over my knee. “Alright, let’s see what has ya stayin’ up all night.” I cleared my throat, holding the book up to catch the dim light. “She stood beneath the crumbling archway of the cathedral…”

My mind drifted through the pages at first, words blurring together without much meaning. But then, something in the story caught my attention, and I found myself tuning in, focusing on the text. Gradually, I realized my voice had softened, losing its earlier sarcasm. It settled into a steady rhythm, low and even, as I read for a few more pages.

Every so often, I glanced up at you. Your expression, once filled with intense focus, began to relax. I watched as your eyes fluttered, fighting to stay open. You looked so determined to stay awake.

I trailed off mid-sentence and raised an eyebrow, my lips curling in another smile. “Oi. Sleepyhead. Still there?”

I got a mumbled affirmation in response, to which I chuckled through my nose and nodded. I set the book down before getting to my feet, careful that I didn’t make too much noise doing so. Well, at least you were about to finally get some much-needed shut-eye.

Before I could move away, you reached out and grasped my fingers with a gentle hold. My eyes widened as I looked between you and our hands.

“Wait. Don’t go yet.” Your eyes were trained on our hands, another faint blush spreading across your cheeks. “I want to hear more of the story.” Your voice was low and shy.

“Yeah?” I asked, tilting my head as I observed you, another smirk lifting my lips. “Can’t get enough garbage, can ya, Princess?”

“No, it’s not that.” Your blush deepened. “I just… I like the sound of your voice.”

Damn. Didn't see that coming. You’re clueless. Who the hell would say something like that? My voice—harsh, grating, like broken glass or nails on a chalkboard and that's what you wanted to hear? But of course, it’d be you, wouldn’t it? Blind to every possible warning, looking up at me with those big, pleading eyes. Damn you. And damn me for sticking around.

My hand was still in yours, your skin soft and warm against my calloused fingers. Your gaze lifted to mine, and you looked so… pitiful. Pleading.

I sighed. “Yer daft, ya know that?” I moved to sit back down, your hand still holding mine. Crossing my ankle back over my knee, I reopened your book, propping it up on my thigh. I glanced at you; some of your energy had returned, your eyes shining with that dumb happy look as you nuzzled into your pillow.

“Thank you, Jude.” Your voice was soft and sweet, making my heart lurch. I kept my face impassive.

“Yeah, yeah, be quiet ‘n listen.” My tone lacked most of its usual bite as I found the last page I had read.

My fingers were still in your grasp. Strange. I could’ve pulled away at any point, but I didn’t. Maybe you thought if you let go, I’d leave. While reading, I moved my hand, lacing my fingers around yours. I didn’t look up, focused on the page, but I heard a small gasp before you squeezed my hand slightly. Damn. Almost enough to make a man melt.

Without pausing, my thumb began rubbing yours absentmindedly. Your skin was soft, untouched by the harshness of this world. What a novel thing in a place like this.

It wasn’t long before I heard your gentle snoring. I chuckled softly, watching you for a moment. So peaceful. Dreaming without a care while a man you knew was dangerous held your hand and read you to sleep. You were insane.

I stood, marking the page I had stopped on, and set the book down on your nightstand. Reluctantly, I removed my hand from yours and shrugged off my coat, covering your sleeping form. You immediately melted into the warmth, your shoulders relaxing as a lock of hair fell across your cheek. My fingers hovered above you.

Do I dare?

Taking a breath, I gently moved the errant lock from your cheek without touching your face. You scrunched your nose, muttering softly before settling back into sleep. My hands found their way into my pockets as I gazed at you a moment longer.

“Sleep well, Princess,” I murmured under my breath. I crossed the room to turn your lamp off and then made my way to the door, pausing at the doorframe for one last look over my shoulder before exiting and closing the door quietly behind me.

This was fun! It was nice to slip into old shoes again and write something that I used to do so frequently. I may do more of these! Lemme know if you want to be tagged, should I decide to do more in the future!

Thank you, all! Have a great day!

#ikevil #ikemen villains #ikevil jude #reader insert #fem reader #jude jazza #sfw #ikevil fanfiction #ikevil fic

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ramblingoak · 10 months ago

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Grading Papers

Mushy May in Lucifer's Hollow: Day 3 - Massage

Copia x Aether

This fic is set in an alternate universe in a town called Lucifer's Hollow. For Mushy May I'll be using the prompts to post little snippets of life for the humans and ghouls that live there 💙 Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together!

~ In Lucifer's Hollow Copia teaches history at the high school and Aether is a firefighter. ~

Warnings: fluff and stuff, sfw, 500 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers and @foxybouquet for the Italian help!)

“Sono tutti imbecilli!”

Aether sighed at Copia’s outburst, adding a few more cookies to the plate before heading towards his husband’s office. He had been in there all afternoon grading essays and from the increasingly alarming sounding Italian it didn’t seem like things were going well. Most of the time Copia was extremely patient with his students, sometimes overly so. But with the end of the school year getting closer and closer Copia was clearly low on patience.

Luckily Aether knew exactly what to do.

He knocked gently at the door a few times before going inside, immediately having to clamp down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing at the sight before him. Copia was turned towards the elaborate cage that took up one side of his office, a somewhat crumpled paper held aloft and a look of disbelief on his face.

“Are they much help?” Copia flinched, slapping the paper down on his desk and giving Aether a sheepish look. The ghoul just smirked and strolled over to his husband’s side. He set the plate of snacks down and leaned down to plant a kiss onto the silver hair at Copia’s temple. “I didn’t realize Brizio knew so much about the politics of Ancient Greece.”

Copia mumbled something under his breath but Aether could see the pink on his cheeks so he knew the man didn’t mind being teased. The rats had been part of the deal since the beginning, not that Aether ever had minded them. They played a big part in the start of their relationship. Aether smiled fondly as he remembered practically tackling Copia in his front yard to keep the man from running back into his smoke filled house. Thankfully he had finally listened and Aether had been the one to save the day (and the rats).

“He knows more than some of these kids.” Aether chuckled at Copia’s remark, taking a moment to card his fingers through Copia’s hair and lightly scratching his scalp with his claws. “Ah, sì. That’s very nice.”

Aether smiled while he continued, eventually moving to stand behind his chair. Copia leaned back with a groan when he moved both of his hands to his shoulders, digging his fingers into the tight muscles there.

“You should take a break for the night, they’ll still be there in the morning.”

“Not if I burn the house down. Hey!” Copia looked up at Aether with a pout when the ghoul flicked his ear. “Ugh, fine. Just let me finish these tonight, per favore? I only have a few left and then I don’t have to think about them the rest of the weekend.”

“Deal. But you have to go with me to the farmer’s market tomorrow.” Copia hummed in agreement, wiggling his shoulders when Aether stopped rubbing them. “Need something?”

“Don’t stop, this makes reading this nonsense somewhat bearable.”

The ghoul grinned, pressing his fingers into Copia’s muscles once more as his husband got back to work.

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

More fics in the Tales From Lucifer's Hollow masterpost

#mushy may 2024 #copia x aether #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #copia fanfiction #tales from lucifer's hollow

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acourtofquestions · 8 months ago

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Empire of Storms Part 1 thoughts, theories & a VERY VERY long post of rambling:

(+ this title as a spoiler warning; heads up to my fellow fans & first time readers (esp. those semi-tagged in this post), I address a lot of Part 1 & possibly up to Chapter 52 of EoS;-) I am ALSO on my first read just finishing said 52 so no spoilers for me past that as I go through Fireheart as well plz, & thx!

I will also be posting a far shorter better edited version of this post next :-)

Oh good gods this book is going to destroy me in the best way possible😅😅🤦‍♀️😭😁😬😆🤣🙃❤️‍🔥🖤🫶

Long writing/reading (I HAVE LOTS OF THOUGHTS & FEELINGS & NEED TO SCREAM IN WIVERN FANGIRL NONSENSE! So, this post will probably jump around quite a bit between chapters, thoughts, theories, reactions, & randomness; read/skim at your own rambling risk😅 also in advance for missed autocorrects I TRIED😂) “round up” for Part 1 of EoS. & yes I have been reading a LOT (whilst VERY busy😂😭), so this blog’s posts are in desperate need of a catch up & will probably only grow more hectic as alas, my library & brain demand to know what happens next NOW😂. You have been warned this post & blog is about to be more incoherent than usual! — And as I said this post is LONG (If your thinking I’m kidding; legit I think this is 20 something pages long; consider it here for historical purposes… & I had a VERY long drive with no books😂)

— NOW —

The organization of parts is interesting, we go from Nightfall, to The Fire-Bringer, to Fireheart. It feels like a full circle from night to day; from learning to being, and showing Aelin’s claim (not from Elena, not from her powers, but from her). The heart of Terrasen, the fire for the world (esp. against the Valg). … It’s also scaring the heck out of me with her self-sacrificial tendencies & the VERY intense vibe (from the first few chapters this story advances into a “final chapter vibe” yet it’s only the first few; it’s reminding me of Deathly Hallows almost? — which is esp. confusing CAUSE I STILL HAVE 3 BOOKS LEFT… and we’re already this intense😬😅soooo MAAS PLEASE DON’T YOUR DARE HURT A HAIR ON ANY OF THEM!!) P.S. for this note; it’s also making my shipping fuel go from 180 to infinity cause she’s his Fireheart🥹 (If only “worried over liking the ship” HoF first read me could see me now😂 @ goddess-aelin 🫶YOU WERE SO RIGHT👏). And generally it’s just been cool to see how the entire story & series has shifted so much (yet kept its heart ;-) !

So, Generally speaking: I’ve loved the first half of Nightfall & The Fire-Bringer (As I’ve loved the series). From the pace & many perspectives, to the plot twists & Easter egg style hints, and the writing with straight-up foreshadowing & full-circle series arcs (many of which have had big moments interwoven & reaching peak within this book). There has been some great character development (many beautiful lines/moments) a lot of raw emotion (crying, laughing, and all of the above), & entertaining interactions as my favorite piece of this book has been all these stories finally crossing paths (& within that developing relationships, friendships, families, courts, enemies, allies, etc.) for the “New World” that’s coming.

Nightfall:

“Elena sent up a final prayer on a pillar of smoke rising from the valley floor that the unborn, faraway scions of this night, heirs to a burden that would doom or save Erilea, would forgive her for what she was about to do.”

Elena I don’t know if I can forgive you for what you’re about to do😅😅 the plan here is long coming, as Lysandras “theory” further confirms:

"The more it seems like this was all planned, laid out long ago. Erawan had decades before Aelin was born to strike decades during which no one with her powers, or Dorian's powers, existed to challenge him. Yet, as fate or fortune would have it, he moves now. At a time when a Fire-Bringer walks the earth." It was all horrifying, impossible, but—so much of their lives defied logic or normalcy. The shifter next to him proved that. "Morath is unleashing its horrors," Lysandra said. "Maeve stirs across the sea. Two goddesses walk hand in hand with Aelin. More than that, Mala and Deanna have watched over her the entirety of her life. But perhaps it wasn't watching. Perhaps it was ... shaping. So they might one day unleash her, too. And I wonder if the gods have weighed the costs of that storm. And deemed the casualties worth it."

& previous lines on “all the players in the unfinished game” (I’m getting S&B Ruin & Rising vibes (for those of you Grishaverse fans; which btw one of these days I need a whole post about parallels & these two series, cause just the stag and lord of the north alone. I AM INTRIGUED & do love both fandoms ;-) + I think the crows would fit so well & it would be wonderfully & utterly chaotic🤣).

So, my general concern is this theory & warning everyone keeps giving Aelin about “the price”; from Rolfe’s tattoo map & warning question: “"That was the price of my power. What shall yours be, Aelin Galathynius?" She didn't reply to him before storming out. Though Deanna's voice had echoed in her mind. The Queen Who Was Promised.” To clever Elide’s question: “Was that the price for the humans they'd once been-magic that was somehow immune to what flowed naturally in this world? Or had the choice been taken from them, as surely as their souls had been stolen, too?” to crucial warnings like Brannon: “We burn not just within our magic, but also in our very souls. For better or worse.” & the danger continuing to grow like that of the FULL Deanna scene:

“And she said to him, in a voice that was deep and hollow, young and old, "Every key has a lock. Tell the Queen Who Was Promised to retrieve it soon, for all the allies in the world shall make no difference if she does not wield the Lock, if she does not put those keys back with it. Tell her flame and iron, together bound.”

She is the one, she has to get the lock, and she will have to pay the price for both (her ancestors & the darkness created in centuries of Erawan); one that will be heavy (one Elena failed to do; and I somewhat worry is because while she did sacrifice herself, her friends, her people, her kingdom, even letting Brannon fall to ruin (Brannon; the only one who ever successfully sealed it, because he sacrificed her mother, his love, “My mother died to forge that Lock!”) she did not let Gavriel “that which she most loved” fall; she tried to do it alone & was left with no option but to leave it to someone else; another era, another heir); now Aelin carries every thread, plot, battle aligning; the power she wields & sheer force of it, the weight of her crown & every choice it comes with, the price it will demand (the one she has spent a lifetime running from; “my crown is just another set of shackles”; the one Mala may have been shaping her to be able to make even through experiencing tragedy & turbulence in decisions over & over again). The warning in every choice; including the person she loves most (Rowan’s fear of “The people you love are just weapons used against you.”) “This thing between them, the force of it, could devour the world.” Her terror in that; struggling to allow them to go for the front lines while she survives, no longer alone & no longer able to take it all on, but struggling to let them in on the “master plan”. Struggling because even as she does, it weighs on them too: “Aelin was trembling, a hand on her friend-face so white and drawn that any harsh words he'd reserved for her were unnecessary. His queen knew the cost. It had taken her so damn long to trust any of them to do anything. If Aedion roared at her now, even if he still yearned to ... Aelin might never delegate again. Because if Lysandra hadn't been in the water when things had gone so, so badly…” And they do see it; the on-growing burden on Aelin’s shoulders & how she’s carrying the weight of it; both as a queen (despite her current lack of crown) another long-coming plot; as spoken by Chaol: “There she was, that queen looking out at him, a hint of the ruler she was becoming. And it knocked the breath out of him, because it made him feel so strangely young-when she now seemed so old.” And turning her desperate & weary; heavier slowly: “Since Rowan had gone, since word of Rifthold's fall had arrived, Aelin had been half present. Distant.” line after line “She'd grown quieter the farther north they'd traveled. Perhaps weeks on the road had sapped her.” They fear for her “And he wondered if Aelin was somehow watching the archipelago, and the seas, and the skies, as if she might never see them again.” for the price of such powers “We have yet to see the full extent of Erowan’s darkness. And I think we have yet to see the full extent of Aelin’s fire.” & They try to help “After tonight, depending on what the lords reported he'd try to find her a quiet place to rest for a day or two before they made the last leg of the trek to Orynth.” desperate to stop it “"She's not some unwitting pawn." He'd defy the gods, find a way to slaughter them, if they threatened Aelin, if they deemed these lands a worthy sacrifice to defeat the Dark King.” to protect her “Rowan at her right, Aedion at her left, Lysandra at her back; nothing and no one would get to their queen.” all the while they know they cannot as Rowan’s line painfully says: “This was war. These lands would endure far worse in the coming days and months. His queen, no matter how he tried to shield her, would endure far worse.” (Also the key word endure, frequently used for the “lost children of Terrasen” as I call their grouping). To even Aelin’s own words “She was a liar, and a murderer, and a thief, and Aelin had a feeling she'd be called much worse by the end of this war.”

This is where I fear Nightfall will come to rise in Fire-Heart:

I say all of this to say I get concerned when Maas feels the need to start a book with such warning; in both the price, and person paying it… Aelin is too much like Elena… Celaena has lost too much to lose anyone else (“And she would not add another name of her beloved dead to her flesh.” — “"We'll get her back, Aelin." "I can't bury another friend." "You won't."”)… and carrying it so heavily I worry she may overpay her share on their behalf’s. And between that & the many conflicting & star aligning forces of Rowaelin I worry the conflicts may grow; originally it was him not feeling “enough” for her because he’s a Prince not a King, he has no money no land no army (thankfully we are done with that piece because he can give her everything🥹 of his heart and that’s all she needs). We have the inevitable Maeve’s vendetta. We have my growing fear with the Carranam bond getting drained; like it almost did with Deanna. And the quotes all warning that their world may lead to another being destroyed, one or the other; “This thing between them, the force of it, could devour the world. And if they picked it, picked them, it might very well cause the end of it.”

… and though this isn’t due to Nightfall I am just concerned (I try to avoid spoilers (and continue to do so); but I already know it’s got a cliffhanger) and I have read enough Maas books (and just fandoms in general) to fear the 1-2 punch of “THEY’RE ALL GONNA DIE😱 — PSYCH😜 THEY ARE ALL FINE😅 — JUST KIDDING EVERYONE YOU LOVE IS DEAD!☠️” + the amount of possible brainwashing between Valg, Wyrdstones, and now gods… I’m just nervous (& still not 100% sure someone isn’t already secretly possessed).

MY DO NOT KILL LIST IS GETTING TOO LONG: From ASTERIN (scared me half to death SARAH) & Manon + 13 (obvi💁‍♀️), Abraxos & Fleetfoot & Evangeline (had to break my “no Google” rule to assure the latter twos safety *phew*), Aelin & Rowan (DON’T YOU EVEN DARE), Lysandra, Aedion, Dorian (HE’S BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH; STOP HURTING HIM), Elide (just let her be happy & home & make Marion proud dammit), Chaol (he’s not even here & I’m still a little mad BUT STILL) & Yrene (she hasn’t even fully come in yet & I don’t care I love her already) + Nesryn who babe, you know I love you, but I need more history & perspective to trust you fully (you seem cool, but I’m worried the lack of knowledge about you means your gonna lie or die, & it’s just too soon after Sorscha), Emrys (your safe in Mistward; STAY THERE), Sam (beloved, you’re still on this list; even though I know how it ended, & really do LOVE Rowaelin, I just still miss you; & want a Multiverse of happy endings for EVERYONE).

— HOWEVER —

I hope Fire-Heart will bring:

More Manorian; and let’s be honest ALL the ships (+ it could get realll literal with the set-up right now😂 the ships are LITERALLY sailing🤣) of course I CAN NEVER HAVE ENOUGH ROWAELIN (though Fire-Bringer was great 🥵 THEY FINALLY SAID I LOVE YOU🥹👏) & I am SO HERE FOR Lysandra & Aedion! … also what’s up with Elide & Lorcan? (Her last name + his first name TOO SIMILAR😂)

More interactions in general between all the characters from ships, to friendships, to even enemies (who often also become friends😂) honestly might be my fav part about this book so far; seeing it all line up & crossover; (from aforementioned Elide & Lorcan), (to previous & hopefully again soon) Manon & Aelin, the FULL team with THE THIRTEEN (Asterin & our crew would be absolute chaos & I would love every second of it), Sorrel too! AND VESTA! Petrah Blueblood (I find her VERY interesting as a character), Elide & the “lost children of Terrassen” finally meeting; maybe some more Ren & Bane updates (cause I wonder about them & what their up to) to Abraxos & Fleetfoot (PLEASE I NEED THIS… just don’t eat eachother😅😂) & yes I do STILL miss Evangeline & Fleetfoot; though I am happy they are safe; while the fire trick was cool it was SO not sustainable, & I do trust Murtaugh… and these full circles; Ansel’s (presumed) reintroduction & the TAB throw-backs/crossovers (plus NOW Crochans?). —

Exploring things of the sort; what is the other side of the “Crochan’s tale”, what is Elide’s true bloodline, how does the new Mala knowledge effect Aelin & Dorian?

Who are the Cadre (& learning more of their history; both with Aedion & Gavriel (that blood oath better not pass to children), Lorcan (Elide is already helping there thankfully) the other twin because I already stan Fenrys, and really Rowan because who are they really? Despite the “blood oath” reasoning they spent centuries together there has to be more to it). I want to get to know the twins & their whole Yin & Yang balance; also what is Fenrys power? (why does Rowan let him go after Aelin in the water instead, he must be pretty dang powerful & more so than Rowan to be her best option in his eyes)! What other histories does Rowan have (are the “witches” one of them)? What else is Maeve (I will never trust her) hiding?

Why is Erowan this way (who really killed Aelin’s parents)? Are we POSITIVE the Ilken aren’t the creatures Elide saw in the basement (wow that sounds extra ominous😂)?

Will Chaol show up (how is his team & the southern allies coming along)?

What is the limitation to Lysandra’s powers (can they find a way to trick the Terrasen flower into “blooming”)?

Is their further crossover between these series (ACOTAR & CC)?

Explain further how certain things work such as mates (Rowan has two? Celaena/Aelin too maybe? & what that means for others)… And just a lil’ fluff (Rowan & Fleetfoot, the team all together, shenanigans & some side plots for funsies) maybe?…

I theorize Fire-Heart will:

Confirm Rowaelin as mates (they practically have already but I want to hear the words). Plus plenty more of them just being them (their every moment is so detailed & precious). Maybe even some more moments with Prince of Doranelle vibes ;-)

Show that there are multiple Carranams (possibly a dyad between Aelin & Dorian. Rowan & Aelin being the mates balance; making Aelin & Dorian the “friendship / rulers / fates” balance). & Without a limit to their power; the danger of over-draining others (Deanna causing Rowan to feel “thunder steal his magic” is CONCERNING & Dorian’s magic is hungry for it).

Confirm that Aelin can use shadowfire, moonfire, & power without limit. Explore her other gifts such as water & healing. Possibly introduce her as a powerful enough wielder to use all the forms (as briefly referenced as a possibility among others before).

Confirm Lysandra & Aedion as mates or at least a couple. (Also use it to explore Aedion’s history & introduce the Bane or at least their set-up).

Bring back the Mycenians since Lysandra & Aelin’s masterplan worked (THE DRAGON THEORY WAS RIGHT)!

Set sail on Manorian in a way that is explanatory/foreshadowing. (Possibly tap into Dorian’s immortality? & power exploration explanations. And go into Manon’s ability to forge a new alliance of peace between MANY groups; not because I’m suggesting the sexist “get married” nonsense so many are giving Aelin, literally just that she could speak on behalf of many groups & since Darrow has brought diplomatic debates into this war it could be an asset).

Introduce Ansel, and perhaps loop back to the Red Desert (unless the Silent Assassins have disappeared). Showing all of Celaena as we see all of Aelin (letting Rowan know even more of her, healing those wounds as he & her family fully accept her; hopefully doing the same thing for them; going through more history). & Similarly with Rowan; possibly saving the Cadre’s lives through it (or at least stopping Lorcans “execution”).

Tie in the spider silk, between Abraxos’s wings (Manon’s “stealing”), & Aelin’s Red Desert history deals. If not in this book than KoA.

Explain Maeve’s obsession with Aelin & vendetta against the family.

Aelin reclaiming her crown by having the heart of her people (we’ve seen “the future”, there is a woman with hair like moonlight; I think this is Manon. The people chant for her, she is their Queen and that is her court; including the witch).

I think Aelin (like Manon & the other golden eyed 13) are Valg proof. She has the golden eye ring of the Ashryver eyes… in that case maybe Aedion too?? (Hopefully🥺… I mean why else would history write a poem about it?) … While I’m at it let’s make Lysandra’s shifting immune too (protect all my bb’s)!😂

Reveal the Wyrdstone Elide carries as THE Lock (between her last name having the word lock😂 or “loch” I guess, the magic not being immediately recognized as a Wyrdkey by Lorcan, & Kaltain’s promise/importance with an explanation for the “living gate” term). Then when she reaches them so does the thread of fate (once again).

Go to Ellywe & both heal/break my soul (all this travel has made it inevitable; though it is cool to see more of the continents of this fictional world etc.)!🙃

Not something I truly believe but one I wonder on; is there a relation between either Rowan & Manon (history or hair color related😂) or Aelin & Manon (some sort of blood relation; the gold eyes & power levels?).

Not theories but things I think need to happen ASAP: STOP WEARING THE WYRDKEY as a necklace AELIN I DON’T care if it’s a “family heirloom” IT’S A BAD IDEA (have you not seen Harry Potter? — sry for another reference, but seriously DON’T WEAR HORCRUX LOCKETS folks)! Tell Elide the full truth; Celaena = Aelin (at least Lorcan is getting close). Commit to immortality (I’m looking at you Aelin & Aedion; esp. Aelin… ROWAN NEEDS THIS; the only time I will ever encourage a woman to “settle”😂)! Address the very long list of “things for later/back burner” because I can’t keep track😂 & they are all WAY too important😅, dangerous😬, and THE LIST IS LONG SO HURRY UP Y’ALL😁!!!

— NOW ONTO THE “ACTUALLY” READ “BIG PORTION😂 —

The Fire-Bringer:

A lot of reactions have random posts; per usual many of the opinions change with hindsight, but I like being able to look back & enjoy it for the first time so (while I do try to give an update) I’ll probably leave the posts up :-) hoping to get a few lil (by that I mean pages jk sry not sry lol I warned you) notes I’m pondering on in here though…

I love the Little Folk’s little but magical role:😊 when (not if; I’m gonna will it into reality with terminology) this gets an adaptation I can’t wait to see them! — I really love the fan art & its many different takes for what they may be all the way from fairy’s, to wisps, to “baby-Groot”-like characters! … I also wonder if they could help out with that “rulers flower thing” possibly, same as pondered for Lysandra (I think these “little things” will be keys to helping Aelin with “dum-dum Darrow” (as I’ve dubbed him; cause I’m angry! & it may be only a 1st read impression as of right now, but he’s also given me 0 reason to like him).

The Oakwald forest: EVERYONE IS SO CLOSE yet SO FAR! (At least Manon has finally made it to the team… well kinda… she better actually MAKE IT past the ship drop-off… if you can call it that?😅 this is why I need to type fast & go read!) If Tower of Dawn manages to match this pace of “just-missed, kinda-crossover” I see why the tandem read would work! It’s quite fun (& semi-irritating/anxiety-inducing but in a good way😂).

Speaking (writing?😂) of Manon: TALK ABOUT IMMEDIATE CHAOS, each of her chapters have been SO intense. I might have cried with her the most so far; I legitimately almost lost it over Asterin’s almost execution & The Thirteen (I AM VERY GLAD THEY FINALLY LEFT THE MATRON & got out so they can please be safe now; or at least they already are in my mind; though last we saw them it was all chaos, they were running (a win) & the shadows seemed to confirm them getting out (another good sign) while Asterin being dragged off screaming isn’t great I think she was shouting for Manon because she didn’t want to leave her… & I refuse to accept any other answer) only problem is Manon is not with them; & she really needs to be😅😅😭 instead of half-dead in the woods, hunted by a banshee-hound-thing? Abraxos honey, thank you for taking care of mother🥹😂 at least she is with the team on the same-ish side now. So, hopefully Abraxos will go grab the rest of The Thirteen while he drops Manon off? I NEED THE WHOLE GANG; I mean Erawan & Maeve are screwed in that case. Esp. since most of them are Valg proof golden eyed; & also have you seen these gals fight? … Honestly, I think they are one of the great shows of good writing in these books; because these characters could easily be read as villains & psychopaths to be hated, yet they manage to be a compelling, interesting, group of female badassery & sisterhood, that really captures your heart (pun intended). HOWEVER, I say all of this Spoiler-free while not oblivious; I have 2 &1/2 books left (wow that’s numbers too small I’m gonna get sad😅😂) I know people say this ending is a hard, & a book of cliffhangers… So, if this is “just” the beginning it can only get crazier😅 (I just don’t want to know; I want to think this will be like ACOTAR with no deaths as long as I can believe it) & even with the Matron’s probable on-it’s-way “dispatch”, they managed to hide Asterin for years. My main concern is Sorrel & Vesta as they’ve been given enough time to love them, yet not enough time for a full arc, I can’t have any red shirts & I’m a little worried for them (but I just wanna love them as long as I can🥹).

I’m so glad I was right; from day ONE I’ve been wondering about Aedion & Lysandra cause *coughs* I mean their first scene together ever… she’s changing his shirt… and now the whole “wandering off to give Rowaelin time” which while a fair-ish excuse it is also a little ;-) ;-) … and now that he’s said he’s gonna marry her “Because I am going to marry you," he promised her. "One day. I am going to marry you.”… I’m counting it (why is it giving New Girl CeCe & Schmidt?😂)

But in all seriousness ship-ness aside I appreciate their friendship; the understanding of each-other with a healthier trauma bond (for all they cannot say, yet carry so heavily; all the shame & fear Aedion is wrestling with; & the steady acceptance Lysandra gives) I loved them both as is, but together is something precious & nice to see develop (while staying slow, taking time, surety of respectful). While at times it feels fast, it makes complete sense (esp. as we don’t get their perspectives as frequently, & with the knowledge that mates can be pretty immediate; even if it’s not “said”; it tracks).

Though it hurt (& was also kinda healthily valid) to hear Aedion be angry with Aelin, it also says a lot about how much he cares for Lysandra (as Aelin often can “do no wrong in his eyes”) to be angry in the first place “And for the first time, he hated his cousin. He hated Aelin for asking this of Lysandra, both to defend them and to secure the Mycenians to fight for Terrasen. Hated the people who had left such scars on the shifter that Lysandra was so willing to throw her life away. Hated ... hated himself for being stuck in this useless tower.” While also knowing it’s not her fault, it is her choice, but it also had to be (he at least knows that & does cut her slack). “He was shaking now, that rage indeed taking over. But Rowan snarled at him, low and vicious, "Save it for later." Aedion growled right back at him. Rowan gave him a cold, steady look that said if he so much as began to hint at what their queen carried, he'd rip out his tongue. Literally. Aedion shoved down the anger. "We can't carry her, and she's too weak to shift." "Then we wait here until she can," Aelin said. But her eyes drifted to the bay, and to the city beyond, still cheering. victory—but very nearly a loss. The remnants of the Mycenians, saved by one of their long-lost sea dragons. Aelin and Lysandra had woven ancient prophecies into tangible fact. "I'll stay," Aedion said. "You deal with Rolfe." "Fine," he said. Aelin groaned, getting to her feet, but stared down at him before she took Rowan's extended hand. She said softly, "I'm sorry." Aedion knew she meant it. He still didn't bother replying.” & knows (because Lysandra makes him better; as she already reminds him with her knowing compassion): “"That man has endured enough, Aedion. A little kindness wouldn't kill you." "He stabbed Aelin. If you knew him as I have, you wouldn't be so willing to fawn over. "No one expects you to fawn over him. But a kind word, some respect-" He rolled his eyes. "Keep your voice down." She did- but went on, "He was violated, and even if you cannot draw up forgiveness for stabbing Aelin against his own will, then try to have some compassion for that." — Aedion snarled at her. Lysandra snarled right back and held his stare with the face not trained or built for bedrooms, but the true one beneath—wild and unbroken and indomitable. No matter what body she wore, she was the Staghorns given form, the heart of Oakwald Aedion said hoarsely, "I'll try." "Try harder. Try better."”)

& Then moments like him asking her to come with him to meet Gavriel, & she simply does. Or that she trusts him to carry her home, vulnerable & tired. I think they give a lot of what the other needs while growing to be who they are themselves. Plus Lysandra deserves to be a leopard princess, sister-in-law(ish) to Aelin. “Princess Lysandra Ashryver sounds nice, doesn't it?” YES IT DOES!

Speaking of Lysandra (who is seriously one of my all time favorites; I relate, I adore her, and really it just doesn’t get better then all of these characters) I WAS RIGHT ABOUT LYSANDRA BEING A DRAGON!!! GENIUS!! And also LYSANDRA WAS A DRAGON!!!!!! I love her & Aelin’s plotting (which also gets kinda Kaz Brekker vibes sometimes; she is so brilliant, & the fact Lysandra just piles into the shenanigans; I love them). TALK ABOUT POWER! Also what fun genius for mythology… winning the people’s hearts… etc. …if only she could turn into a flower… and making that moment the first perspective we have from her in this book was so fun! Shoutout to @ asexualzucchini for fandoming about this with me (heads up again cause I know your on a first read too; THIS POST HAS SPOILERS for Pt. 1 ;-)

ELIDE & LORCAN; a team-up I was NOT expecting, yet find SO intriguing. From highlighting Elide (which is well deserved) esp. in her truest strength; smarts (her & Annabeth Chase would’ve been besties) and as something even Lorcan sees & values greatly, extra fun as in combo to his physical strength it’s a pretty perfect team (& a helpful combo for storytelling because you see his perspective which is of course very different then spoken threats from Rowaelin perspectives ONLY; & of course once again while I’m curious to learn more on the Cadre; esp. since Lorcan often to me just seems angry to have “lost” his friend). And I do love the boundaries they respect (even as an unknown dare I say “anti-hero”? Lorcan still has some clear moral lines (& I generally appreciate that in the Maasverse that everyone except the worst of the worst can agree where those are) he also keeps his word a VERY intriguing piece of his character), also the representation they give (go team disability represent!) + small girlies hanging out w big brooding boys (there’s my “kitty” style reference for you Aelin lol). Also funny cause eventually they’re gonna end up in the same place😂 P.S. him calling her MARION (gut-wrenching), Crochan history (very curious), etc. IT’S JUST ALL SO INTRIGUING! … Now if we could only have an empowering crossover so she can go talk to Feyre & realize she’s already intelligent, powerful, & capable, & not being able to read has no effect on that!! (while we’re at it & I’m on a crow comparison kick; go hug Wylan please).

Another team up I didn’t expect but surprisingly loved most was Dorian & Rowan’s roadtrip through Rifthold (new movie adaptation idea?😂):

Dorian, Dorian, Dorian where do I begin? — I love him. I think he might be the most morally grounded character (odd as that sounds for someone that was recently possessed). He would be a good king, because most important he’s just a good man. My heart breaks for him, he’s seen a lot without time or space to deal with it (it’s just adding up; “The latter, Dorian realized, usually happened when even the heat and sun couldn't drive away the shadows of the past few months—when he awoke with his sweat feeling like Sorscha's blood, when he couldn't abide even the brush of his tunic against his neck.”); yet he still gives everything he can to his friends, his people, his country (& Rowan gives & takes care of him too (another Aelin paralell/foreshadowing; “"You're not going to believe me," Aelin went on. "What l've just said, you're not going to believe me. I know it--and that's fine. I don't expect you to. When you're ready, I'll be here.”) ; “He wasn't sure whether to thank the Fae Prince for noticing or to hate him for the kindness.” — Because Rowan knows; “"You're going to hate the world, Dorian. You are going to hate yourself. You will hate your magic, and you will hate any moment of peace or happiness. But I had the luxury of a kingdom at peace and no one depending upon me. You do not."”); and somehow Dorian just remains good and kind even when the world is not. He may carry more, but it is never an excuse for him; he sets aside his pride, humbled, un-selfish, caring, and really trying. (remarkable enough that even Rowan notices & takes note; “I have known many kings in my life, Dorian Havilliard. And it was a rare man indeed who asked for help when he needed it, who would put aside pride.”) And I also appreciate that he is cared for in this, seen for who he is; respected in it (FINALLY said quite well in: “Rowan knew most underestimated the sharp intelligence under that disarming smile. Knew that Dorian's value wasn't his godlike magic, but his mind”)

And getting the friends & care he deserves, like Aelin who kept her word “I came back for you. "You both came back,"” (he is her friend, she does care for him) as it’s shown because she went so far as to send Rowan (someone she would NEVER risk; “"I will save him," he murmured. "I wouldn't ask this of you unless it was ... Dorian is vital. Lose him, and we lose any support in Adarlan." And one of the few magic-wielders who could stand against Morath. Rowan's nod was grim. "I serve you, Aelin. Do not apologize for putting me to use." Because only Rowan, riding the winds with his magic, could reach Rifthold in time. Even now, he might be too late. Aelin swallowed hard, fighting the feeling that the world was being ripped from under her feet.” (When she says “losing support” she pauses; because really it’s about losing Dorian her friend, remember she’s always coming from the mindset of “she will not write another name on her scars” almost to the level of her “I will not be afraid mantra” fading in from QoS in this first EoS quarter) so she wouldn’t risk him even in leaving her side (which props to Maas for breaking a typical VERY possessive YA trait; even at the cost of a promise-ish from the last book; “Next time we need to save the world, we do it together. Deal.”). & keeps keeping that promise to save him; not only to keep her word, but keep her friend. Along the way he so easily becomes Rowan’s friend, thawing the ice by just being a decent guy (that says a lot for a centuries old Prince of stoic brooding). I love the genuine respect they have for each other; the time they take (even short as it is) to have a mini-boat therapy session because they needed it; it says a lot about the two of them as good men; the way they help each-other, plan & train together (Dorian even has time to understand Aelin’s time away with a new compassion😅😅 “Honestly, Dorian had no idea how Aelin had survived months of this--let alone fallen in love with the warrior while she did. Though he supposed both the queen and prince possessed a sadistic streak that made them compatible” & even see Rowan get a taste of the Celaena Sardothien world & find he has similar sass). vice-versa you also see someone valuing Rowan’s strength, strategy, personality beyond warrior or prince, without any of this “male pride chest-puffing instinct”. And the way despite the change in new healthier friendships you also have the original ones growing with them “"And will keep changing," she said, squeezing his arm once. "But... There are things that won't change. I will always be your friend." His throat bobbed. "I wish I could see her, just one last time. To tell her... to say what was in my heart." "She knows," Aelin said, blinking against the burning in her eyes. "I'll miss you," Dorian said. "Though I doubt the next time we meet will be in such …civilized circumstances." She tried not to think about it. He gestured over her shoulder to her court. "Don't make them too miserable. They're only trying to help you."” It helps both him and them; like the team they need to be & are finding a way in: “"We'll figure it out." She loosed a breath. "But your being king is the first step of it."” Like the Queens & Kings they have been becoming for a world slowly building; starting with the fact he is one of the good men that do exist (like Nehemia & Celaena said) and as already shown: “Ten years later, and they were all sitting together at a table again--no longer children, but rulers of their own territories. Ten years later, and here they were, friends despite the forces that had shattered and destroyed them. Aelin looked at the kernel of hope glowing in that dining room and lifted her glass. "To a new world," the Queen of Terrasen said. The King of Adarlan lifted his glass, such endless shadows dancing in his eyes, but--there. A glimmer of life. "To freedom."” esp. as he helps raise up women in positions of power to do so as well! (We love a King ally)

Much like Aelin growing into a queen you see the shift as Dorian becomes a King. “Never again. Never again would he be weak and useless and frightened.” (From a quote I appreciated and found Nesta paralells in). “To her surprise, a king smiled back.” And I just hope somewhere along the way Dorian also finds his happy ending much like our queen is slowly finding a way too (like Rowan said; “You will find your way, too, Dorian. You'll find your way out.”); I think Manon is promising, I think he finally has a real family, & he’s learning his power which is good; his already Kingly skills also come in handy, they needed a diplomat. And for two characters I love so much, a genre that rarely shows good friendships between so many characters and guys having emotions and bonding beyond a love interest trope… I just loved it! p.s. thanks again @ mysterylilycheeta for fandoming about this one with me (and many others :-)

Now speaking of Dorian quotes (plus I needed a transition lol) much like Dorian I do sometimes miss Chaol; “"You know," he said, "sometimes I wish Chaol were here to help me. And then sometimes I'm glad he's not, so he wouldn't be at risk again. I'm glad he's in Antica with Nesryn.”while also being glad he’s off somewhere else… not just ‘cause of the injury (I actually hope they don’t make that THE “problem”, at least in the sense of making him “useless”. While healing in a magical realm is a useful skill, representation of disabled characters in the read world is also really important & still super kick-ass & powerful)… So, I’m glad he’s gone not for that but for the fact I think his mentality would conflict right now (& while Aelin isn’t always right; & does sometimes need a check as Aedion aforementioned & does this at least better thank Chaol in timing & how) + most of the time ya kinda need to just “keep calm & trust the process” because while “the gods may have some “masterplan” & only Aelin can outsmart & outplan them (you just have to let her go for it)… and hopefully Elide will be there to help soon!

Now speaking of good friends, & the rest of this post from “threads of fate”, to really loving characters, friendships, relationships (even most of my favorite quotes) it’s time to address THE SHIP because there is ROWAELIN. TRULY WHERE DO I START? I love them. They are perfect. Nothing can break them (Nothing better try). I love the peace & hope they hold for the other (they want more together, for each other; to live.). The balance they carry; especially when one is down, the other lifts them up (even rapidly flipping; I’m a few Chapters into Part 2 (spoiler sentence)🚨 & there’s the moment where it goes from her being on fire & him waking her from her nightmares, to him so panicked to save her he’s freezing the room & she’s soothing him). The way they are so alike, & shown even more so (as I’ve briefly mentioned) in this book (Rowan having some Celaena moments, her taking on a leader & diplomatic role, learning to control water & him teaching her to heal, exploring each others histories & a growing team of friends for & with them) & VERY different (they are the balance even in what they do share; for instance a scene I think on frequently: when Rowan leaves to go get Dorian, and Aelin cannot let him go. Right there she uses very specific words; she does not ask him to stay instead she says she cannot let him go; because she knows asking him to stay (like Lyria had begged) would kill him or telling him “he’s leaving her” would utterly destroy them both. And he does the same; he distracts her (knows what she needs) takes a moment for them (stops the clock) kisses her and then leaves before she opens her eyes in a flash, so she does not have to watch him leave (again), or (be the one to) walk away from him (he knows she already used all of her will to even have him go in the first place, she cannot ask anything more or she will not ask at all), or run again. They both are feeling the same thing, while understanding the differences they have experienced, they take the notice to love the other the way they need & the only way they can). Part of it stems from something I’ve adressed on the blog before, the honesty they share; and desperately needed. Or have discussed with other fans in beyond that the fact they trust, they can have it all on the table, and respect what has to be kept. Part is the fact they are the others soulmate (waiting for those words: “mate” to “officially” & finally seal what we ALL know by now😂). Another being the threads of fate every character keeps seeing; they are VERY tightly bound beyond separation; for better or worse a tangled knot that can not be undone.

The way in that they would fight by the others side, live & die together, for each-other. They would save the world for each-other (like Rowan jumping in front of the moonfire because he knew her fiery soul; “"No!" The word was a roar, a plea, and silver and green flashed in her vision. A name. A name clanged through her as he hurled himself in the path of that fist, that moonfire, not just to save those innocents in the city, but to spare her soul from the agony if she destroyed them all-Rowan.” — “"If you had destroyed that city, it would have destroyed you, and any sort of hope at an alliance."”) It goes beyond taking a bullet for the other, it goes to taking a bullet from the other (you see that side a lot in HoF). They would save the other for the world (like he says, the world needs alliances; because he knows it needs her, his queen). Or the other from the world; “And as his face became clear, his tattoo stark in the sun, as that fist full of unimaginable power now opened toward his heart-There was no force in any world that could keep her contained.” Together, to whatever end. They would even destroy it for the other; “But if it was death separating us … I would find you. I don’t care how many rules it would break. Even if I had to get all three keys myself and open a gate, I would find you again. Always.” They deserve something that’s an always, known, world & gods defying. And while I appreciate the way they defend each other, I also appreciate the way they defend their friends together; it may be them to whatever end, but it’s also not just them against the world (more so for the world?) they may be capable of destroying the world for each other, still they choose to give everything to save it. They choose each other, they continue to do so, to accept, to be honest. “Even if this thing between them ... even if he knew it was not mere lust, or even just love. This thing between them, the force of it, could devour the world. And if they picked it, picked them, it might very well cause the end of it.” they have a powerful love (one that is quite literally more powerful together). I love that scene too, the carranam; the way he steadies her (he knows why the manacles scare her, knows how to help her breathe despite it; “she is not afraid”), trusts her (she could kill them both, but he believes in her, always has, even before she believed in herself) gives her his power (talk about a feminist ally😂 he literally uses his power to give her more power), and she blazes the world (better & worse); she trusts him enough for the irons (something she may have killed someone else for), she trusts his trust in her (it empowers her metaphorically too), trusts him to save her from herself; trusts him which as this line shows; “"You trust nothing. She met his eyes. "I trust you."” is almost a miracle in itself. I love the easy rhythm they fall into like breathing, simple domesticity (even among war), natural understanding (soulmates), gentle unconditional stubborn & unchanging love that simply is. & is accepted as such. Learning more of their history in parallels & new perspectives, tales & legends, chaos & opposites (especially opposed in power) FIRE & ICE and remains the “meant to be” Carranam; though one of a kind it also understands itself in being love among grief, giving it the ability to see & soothe the unhealthy internal monologues… in a way that’s honestly kinda healing to read; I love their quotes, I love their scenes, I love their characters, I just love them.

It’s been fun to see more Aelin as Aelin, (and I’m not meaning “The one in green smiled, but for all its delight, all its wicked mischief ... It was a softer smile, made with a mouth that was perhaps less used to snarling and teeth-baring and getting away with saying hideous, swaggering things. Lysandra, then. The two queens faced Rolfe.” Lysandra twin-swap scene 😂) the way Celaena is now recognized as a part to play; “You met Aelin when she was still pretending to be Celaena” — “Because it was Celaena who sat here-for whatever purpose, it was Celaena Sardothien in this room.” from the way Rowan helped & accepted her all along. Rowan has always been her protector, her guard, her best champion, fiercest warrior & love, her dearest friend, her everything. It’s the one that saw all & loved anyways “to have one person who knew the absolute truth about her--and didn't hate her for it.” — “I see you, I see every part of you. And I am not afraid.” he is not afraid of her; the first time she’s ever had that… Something she desperately needs as someone so fear-based… She went from being a child who was never not afraid; she was taught to fear her power, fear the secret coming free, because she would be persecuted; because her people would not love her for what she was; she was protected against it and taught her powers weren’t to be trusted. She spent so long burying herself… Arobynn taught her that; created a world of only that for her to exist in, only to survive never to live. And as I’ve said before I LOVE SAM, I truly think he would have accepted her without flinching (I love & believe in the many soulmates for many lives theories; he was Celaena’s) but over & over again the saddest four words of almost they never had time. Thinking someone would love you “even if” is different that getting to experience it, she was still afraid he would turn her in or turn away, he would judge her as she judged herself, or didn’t know “how dark she could go”; like he was too good and she would drag him down. And here is Rowan: the one person who could stop her (the dark comfort she takes in knowing he could save the world if she endangered it; “That is how I was able to stand before the King of Adarlan, how I was able to befriend his son and his captain, how I was able to live in that palace. Because I did not give that rage, those memories, one inch. And right now I am looking for the tools that might destroy my enemy, and I cannot let out the monster, because it will make me use those tools against the king, not put them back as I should--and I might very well destroy the world for spite. So that is why l must be Celaena, not Aelin--because being Aelin means facing those things, and unleashing that monster. Do you understand?”) and doesn’t think that of her; “For whatever it's worth, I don't think you would destroy the world from spite.”

To the moment on the beach that strikes me again & again; Aelin in her rawest state (inner child & traumatized immortal), sobbing, unclothed (a very important detail not because of the rest of Chapter 38 spice but because of the psychological component; she is stripped down to her core at her worst, most vulnerable, visibly terrified uncomfortable state; it’s more like a nightmare of giving a speech & realizing your the only one without clothes), on fire (no hidden power or sense of control), unleashing an entire storm (after almost destroying the world; her world; even against her will); because she is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius “the rightful heir of fire” and Queen of Terrasen; she has been “Adarlans Assassin” & a “King’s Champion” Lillian, Elentiya, Celaena… all of these names… and yet, she is still afraid. And she cannot stop it; she is trying & failing, feeling every step backwards for every step she takes, she is running to nowhere, she is lost. And then there is Rowan. Rowan, who walked to the creak to see her, and went loudly so she would know & not be afraid. Rowan who knows when she needs to let off steam (literally) & has been burned & still does not turn away from her. Rowan who now is “silent as death” because he knows her mind is already screaming enough for the both of them. Rowan who follows her; over & over, unflinching, returning, staying, seeing, & still believing in her (even before she believed in herself; even when she cannot). She is begging for anyone that listens to take the job & all its “blessings & burdens of power”, wishing for a bottom to the endless abyss of her power, drowning in it; helpless in her own strength, because she does not trust herself (how can she when she can’t even be herself; not just Celaena; but Deanna), trying to run from herself. And Rowan who sees, hears, knows; and only cares about her. Choosing her. Loving her. Telling her those words. Arguing against the voices in her head for her; making her feel for a moment that maybe somehow she’s worth it (or at least too lucky to care even if she’s not). Because he has every reason to go; he knows what he could lose (even as they stand there; he is still shaken & terrified; he just saw a god steal the woman he loves from her own mind; he has no idea how to fight that & bring her back) He has lost that; felt it for centuries The world may be the price, they may be the price, they are in the middle of a war waged & waiting for hundreds of years; and he does not care. He only cares about her; better & worse. And she is not alone; never again. Reminding her that she can be both, staying on the road. As he says (a quote that made me cry): “You and I will learn to manage your power together. You do not face this alone; you do not decide that you are unlovable because you have powers that can save and destroy. If you start to resent that power… I don’t know where we go on that road.” And when she voices it, that fear (that brought me to tears); you’re just crazy for loving me.“"Because I'm the only one arrogant and insane enough to ask Mala Fire-Bringer to let me stay with the woman I love. Her flames turned to pure gold at the words-at that word. But she said, "Perhaps you're just the only one arrogant and insane enough to love me."” He simply, firmly, undoubtably, says no. … And when the times comes; when he creates a snow storm of his own (& destroys half a forrest😂) she just laughs, holds him closer, kisses him again. As she says; “who would not look at those flames with any ounce of fear.” as anyone else would have. They aren’t afraid of each other, they aren’t afraid, not together. “But Rowan had caught her each time she had fallen-first, when she had plummeted into that abyss of despair and grief; second, when that castle had shattered and she had plunged to the earth. And now this time, this third time ... She was not afraid.”

And because they are equal, because they will go to whatever end, because they pull each other back over & over whenever/wherever they drift. (And while I love Lyria, I believe she was one of his soulmates) I don’t think anyone ever understood him so well in return… Rowan loved Lyria. Lyria wanted him to stay for good reason, but he was not able to tire to rest to settle; she did not understand the warrior; just as he couldn’t understand enough not to be. Where peace was never quite had, the warrior that could not rest; there is Aelin. Who just goes to war with him, for him, for them. She is his hope, his queen, his love, his world, his fireheart🥹, & his everything (& thankfully NOT because of the blood-oath; “"How does she do it?" Aelin asked baldly. "With Rowan, it's not ... Every order I give him, even casual ones, are his to decide what to do with. Only when I actively pull on the bond can I get him to ... yield. And even then it's more of a suggestion." "It is different with her," Gavriel said softly. "Dependent on the ruler it is sworn to. You two took the oath to each other with love in your hearts. You had no desire to own or rule him." Aelin tried not to flinch at the truth of that word—love. That day ... when Rowan had looked into her eyes as he drank her blood ... she'd started to realize what it was. That the feeling that passed between them, so powerful there was no language to describe it ... It was not mere friendship, but something born of and strengthened by it.” glad they clarified that to give consent). I’ve said this about them before and I’ll say it again there is something healing in how wholly they accept and understand each other (to the point you would think they are reading minds), how evenly matched and equal they are. They are two of the best matched characters I know of; at times even to a fault (but even that is taken in stride). Aelin and Rowan are everything they have ever been with the other. This isn’t a comparison, there’s something beautiful to each of them (I’ll even still say that to Dorian & Aelin, the way their friendship came to be, and re-reads what might have been) there is just the fact that this is different and I think it’s a special kind of something. And the fact in the matching for the other they can go to the ends of the earth together; whether it be as Queen and Prince (though he would make a good king ;-) or assassins, gentle souls trying to rest, never at rest but trying for peace, fae and shifters fire and ice, warriors, martyrs, saviors, villains, Kings Champion & Maeve’s Cadre, friends, mates, whatever it may be “to whatever end”.

I especially love them in the little things… all these moments that show everything I’ve said and more.

The detail in Rowan knowing the other side to Aelin keeping him at the beach, and it not taking away from the moment. He knows, he accepts it. They know the layers, they don’t pretend otherwise, they don’t run or fight it, they just sit with it. The way he held her & grounded her during the sea battle, believing in her even as she lost her balance in power, the way she came back from Deanna for him, the way she held on to him through the storm. She reminds him what he is; that he is everything she needs, she doesn’t take the bullshit, she doesn’t give up; she lends a hand, or lets him follow, or defends him. And they finally said it; I love you. — Actually better than that, worlds best quote award of: “I love you. There is no limit to what I can give to you, no time I need. Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you.”They finally chose this, them; and the world needed it (I will go down with the ship of them as queen and king). … So, my shippers heart is happy, I want more, I’m happy they’re happy, I want them to stay happy. They are the best brightest threads of fate & for a book I’ve loved to see tie together, the Rowaelin ship has been pretty perfect.

And some random notes I keep wondering on:

The color green in this series… From Lysandra’s eyes (the one marker she keeps in each form; funny as it’s also Terrasen (her future Courts) color, to Rowan’s pine green (& often “home” like Terrasen descriptions (once again)) to the green roofing of Rifthold, or tiling of the desert, the stolen wax stamp rings, Terrasen’s color, etc. … it’s just used to tell a lot of story & I find it a fun note!

On the subject of these “fun notes” I’d also like to Mention Maasverse “deals” in wording; I find it so interesting how carefully phrased (like a genie) things need to be, yet kept to their word they are. I feel like there’s some loopholes within some plots right now using that clause (if only there was Mort to prove it!)… I miss Mort…

There’s all of Lysandra’s shapeshifting, the character in that, her character all together. And then moments like Rowan reaching her to fly, to have her own wings. And introducing more powers outside of fae.

Fenyrs possible… winnowing? Whatever reason it was that Rowan sent him to save Aelin instead of himself (obviously meaning he was more capable because Rowan would save her any means necessary).

And these aforementioned threads of fate are pretty brilliantly done, I look forward to continuing to enjoy them. From Oakwald to 10 years ago to the detail of plans (Aelin going to the temple, for Brannon & the Dragon, & her territory claim… etc.)… SO MANY!!!

Especially because of YOU!..

— Final, biggest most important book/fandom thought yet: —

THANK YOU to the Maasverse!

As someone who doesn’t know anyone reading these —one of my favorite things to do is talk about them with other fans— I’m thankful to still have that; I’m thankful that tumblr has that; and thankful that y’all are so welcoming, kind, talented, & lovely! (Limiting full tags as this post is ridiculously long and no one should “have” to read it😂)

There’s a long list of you, to name a few (others please know you are still on the list, loved & appreciated)!! @ archerons-elain @ highladyelenna @ iwantavaldezinator @ romantasyreader28 @ antvwinderbaum @ shadowhunters77 @ chaos-on-stand-bi @ theauroragalaxy @ impossibelle @ aelin-fire-heart @ autumnbabylon @ headboymalfoy @ somebooksbelonginthesinbin @ idfendyr @ winged-artistic-wolf @ batter-upp @ cheap-spirits @ just tsteffs50cts @ xxvalkyriesxx @ captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @ lynnsthoughts @ maevecrom @ stingy-swann @ mothlvrtothemoon @ wannaberachelgrxxn @ sweetokami @ avymiir

& so if I missed any, like I said just know you are so appreciated🫶 … and sorry I get confused sometimes (as this is technically a secondary blog to @lavendarneverlands lol😂). It’s always me though🤣

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