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unyieldingwings · 2 years ago

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LIGHTLARK BY ALEX ASTER REVIEW

Title: Lightlark

Author: Alex Aster

Genre: Fantasy, High Fantasy, Romance, YA, Romantasy

Series: Yes

Rating: 3.5/5

Duration of read: 5 days

Page count: 409

I finally finished Lightlark!

It was such a wild read. I can honestly say that the book did make me feel a lot of emotions, and it was certainly a rollercoaster for me, and I decided to tab the book in this category: World Building/Important Stuff, Happy Stuff, Sad Stuff, Romantic, Suspicious and Frustrating/Making Me Mad, which all the more proves that this was such an emotional read for me.

Though the premise of the plot of Lightlark was certainly interesting, I remember the first time that it came through my TikTok fyp, I immediately favorited the original video from Alex's account and decided to wait for it to be released in my country, and after finishing it, I did give it a rating of 3.5/5. The reason for this is because as I was going through the book, all the information that we needed to get to fully grasp the story were a little bit disjointed, incomplete and disconnected. To be frank, it was a little difficult for me to follow at first because in the beginning of the book, we would get descriptions, a few sentences of important information and then we would skip over to a new scene and then circle back to the original thought/information that was being discussed by the main character. I do understand that it is entirely possible that that is what the author wanted us to feel while reading the book, maybe she wanted us to feel exactly as clueless, as scared, as desperate and as helpless as the main character/main narrator to better connect with her, it just wasn't the easiest thing to follow for me. Even though I gave the book a solid 3.5, there are still things that I liked and did not like with it. Let me tell you more about them.

I loved the idea of Lightlark and the division into six rulers and realms (Sunling, Wildling, Nightshade, Skyling, Moonling and Starling). I loved the premise of participating in a deadly political game called The Centennial to decide which ruler and realm would die to free the entirety of their people from the curses that were spun 500+ years ago. I absolutely loved the drama of the fact that there were rules to be followed for the duration of The Centennial, and I also loved that there was drama among all the rulers. I also loved how the mentality of a person who has been manipulated by those around her was shown in the context of Isla's character--how she seems to struggle with her own identity, her own decisions and how she feels guilty for standing up for what she personally believes in, but I loved it more when she was able to gain a sense of confidence in her abilities, her identity and in who she is. Out of everything else though, the one thing I loved most about Lightlark is Grimshaw Malvere, ruler of Nightshade. I know, I know, Isla is the main character, but I cannot help it. Grimshaw is painted in such a mysterious, and admittedly, delicious way that I can't help but love him--flaws and all.

Moving on to the things that I did not particularly like about Lightlark. There are a few, and I think I would need to use bullet points for this.

I guess the main one would be the predictability of the major twists of the book. I don’t know if it was just me, but it was very easy to follow the clues leading us to the true villain of the story. It felt like we were trying to be misled to another conclusion, but the clues were just there and very easy to connect.

Another thing that I struggled with in the book is how it is always reinforced that Isla has been trained her entire life by her caretakers, however she always seems to get into precarious situations that could have been avoided if she actually used her training. It felt like her training was conveniently mentioned when it would suit the plot for some scheme-y type events, but would be conveniently shelved otherwise. It felt like her training was implied to be second nature to her, but actually isn't. This is what I meant by the information being a little bit disjointed because if she were actually trained to a point where she was one with all of her skills, she would not easily forget her own strength and fall prey to all the misfortunes that happened to her. I get it, The Centennial is supposed to be dangerous and Isla is supposed to be one of the youngest rulers in all the realms, however, it just really doesn't track for me how she's only well trained when it suits the plot, but she conveniently gets into so much trouble when it also suits the plot. I hope I'm still making sense.

It absolutely infuriated me how Poppy and Terra were the ones who mainly manipulated Isla, but it felt like it was only skimmed over when in truth, their betrayal of Isla's trust is so much more disgusting than what happened with Grim. It kinda felt to me like it's going to be some sort of set up for a possible redemption arc for Grim because it felt like I was being forced to vilify him in all ways possible.

I also did not like how the Centennial was presented to be a deadly, political, game that would showcase just how cruel, and cunning all these centuries old characters are, however it did not give me that sort of experience while reading it. I guess it's closely related to how I didn't get a lot of consolidated and solid information about Lightlark and the Centennial as much as I wanted to, then again, it is only the first book so that still remains to be seen for the remaining part of the series. In terms of it being political and exciting and anxiety inducing, and them showing just how cunning they can be, it wasn't really all that for me. I kind of expected a more complex way of all the rulers trying to manipulate, expose and spy on each other all the while trying to understand the prophecy and break the curse on Lightlark. I also kind of expected the entire Centennial to be more than a few paragraphs and chapters of them showing bits and pieces of their power, the weird tests they have for each other, and the demonstrations that feel like are just being used to further the plot of a love triangle instead of actually showing how deadly the competition is. I also had some trouble understanding how this was classified as a game when it sort of wasn't? I just had a lot of trouble with it. As I said earlier, it was a somewhat difficult read for me as it was hard to follow at times (except for the main villain plot thing.)

Main Characters:

Isla Crown, Grimshaw Malvere - ruler of Nightshade, Oro Rey - King of Lightlark.

Main Antagonist:

Celeste/Aurora ruler of Starling.

Supporting Characters: Azul, Cleo, Ella, Poppy, Terra, Juniper

MAIN CHARACTERS

Isla Crown:

Description: Isla has long, dark brown hair, green eyes, and tan skin.

Thoughts on Isla:

I personally did not like Isla as a main character. She infuriated me way too much. I understand that she has been manipulated by every single person in her life from the day she was born, and that does have a lot of consequences and effects on someone's life, however, I just didn't connect with her as well as I expected to. I have read a lot of fantasy series where the main character is a woman, a lot of them even younger than Isla's character, and a lot of them have also gone through very traumatic experiences (yeah, I know, trauma is trauma and people are allowed to react and feel differently because any experience is unique to the person). I feel like, Isla could have been written in a better way that showcases so much more of her strengths and her abilities as a supposedly fully trained warrior leader of the Wildling realm. As I mentioned earlier, it was difficult to swallow the fact that Isla keeps on boasting about her extremely harsh training that she received ever since she was a child, however it's still very easy for her to be taken advantage of, beaten and be basically helpless and be a damsel in distress negating all of the training that has been beaten into her bones and body, and then she suddenly becomes this well-trained girl who is one with her skills and abilities when the plot suits it.

Grimshaw Malvere, ruler of Nightshade:

Description: Grim is tall with pale skin, black eyes, black hair, and a dimple on his cruelly cut face.

Thoughts on Grim:

Where do I even begin? Grim is my favorite character out of all the people currently known to us in the Lightlark universe. Maybe I'm just being extremely biased, because he does feel very Rhys coded to me and I am absolutely in love with Rhysand (from acotar). Other than that though, I do love how Grim is written in a way that is very playful. I also love how he is very unconditional towards Isla. (Yeah I know, shit move on the memory erasing thing, but come on, we have to give him some leeway about that. More on that later) An example I have about him being unconditional towards her, whenever she asks him something that is absolutely within his power to answer, he doesn't act all high and mighty like the information only belongs to him, he answers as honestly as he can. He doesn't make her 'work' for the truth or the answers that she seeks as if she isn't worth honesty. Another thing I like about him is how he seems more than willing to sacrifice something about himself for the good of Isla (I absolutely love to see a whipped man for the main character). An example of this is how he was more than willing to expose his own flair when Isla's secret about her not having power was revealed by Oro just to make sure that Isla would be safe, away from the other rulers who might have nefarious plans for Isla. I also love how he helped her move from the palace to the Wildling fortress no questions asked. Anything for Isla, anything she asks, he does. Anything she needs he gives with no conditions. Especially with the black diamond necklace he gifted Isla for whenever she's in trouble, I loved that so much. Grimshaw Malvere has shown us through his actions multiple times already how he is someone Isla CAN and SHOULD trust even though his own words say otherwise. More on the stuff about him feeling very Rhys coded to me is the tortured soul vibe I get off of him. Yeah sure, you can justify it as him feeling tortured because he did wipe Isla's memories for an entire year , but it kinda feels like it's more than that you know? I just have so many things that I love about Grim, and I hope that we get to know more about him in the next book. I hope we get to know him more, how he actually acts in his realm, what is important to him other than Isla, how he thinks, how he feels and why he acts the way he does. Let's not forget all the times that he refers to himself as a monster, how he always says that he is playing a role that is already expected of him by the other rulers--he must have a reason for that. There must be something that he is trying to protect in his realm, in his lands, or something that he is trying to expose which could be the reason that he acts the way he does. Now, I do understand that Grim is a controversial character for most readers because of the memory stealing thing that he did for Isla, I get it, that was definitely violating on so many levels, however, we should still give him some leeway about the fact that he was also manipulated by Celeste/Aurora. Remember, he suddenly inherited the power of his father when his father died for the prophecy to break the curse, and at this point Celeste/Aurora was already hundreds of years old, so she was already a conniving bitch, and as per the book, the Nightshade realm and Grimshaw are the only ones standing against some greater evil that Oro doesn't even want to explain to Isla (because he's manipulative like that. More on him later), so there must actually be MORE to him and how he is important to the story than we actually know. I know I'm rambling, but I just have so many thoughts about him and as much as I try to organize it, I just want to gush about him.

YES I AM A GRIMSHAW MALVERE APOLOGIST.

Oro Rey - King of Lightlark, ruler of Sunling:

Description: Oro has blond hair, gold eyes and fair skin.

Thoughts on Oro:

I don't particularly like Oro. Yeah I get he saved Isla in the first part of the Centennial, but he really only saved her for his own purpose not because he actually loves her. I also understand that he is an untrusting person because he had been played and plagued by people who want to get close to him because of his status as the King of Lightlark, however, with the many changes of his personality, attitude, I don't even believe any of the faces that he shows us in the book. Oro to me, feels very icky. In a sense that he is not very forthcoming with information. Every time Isla asks him questions, he either dodges it or makes Isla work for the answer, he withholds information as if no one else is deserving of the truth other than he. He is a very conditional person, and I guess I just don't agree with people or characters that always have conditions for everything. I don't like how secretive he is, it doesn't feel mysterious for me, It feels manipulative. Especially with his sudden decision to kill off Grim. It felt very convenient how he and the other rulers just suddenly decided to off Grim just like that. It feels like he and the others were already planning something for Grim because he wasn't even invited by Oro in the past few Centennials and was only invited to this one when Isla would be playing. It just feels like there's more bad to him than good.

MAIN ANTAGONIST:

Celeste/Aurora:

Description: Celeste has a long, straight sheet of hair and a heart-shaped faced.

Thoughts on Celeste/Aurora

From the moment I read about her, she was already feeling kind of sketchy and shady for me. The way she was written didn't feel like she was someone I could trust. She loved to restrict Isla, and loved to remind her how she was weak and insignificant and needed protection. From those things alone, I already felt like she had something to do with the curse. It seemed like she was in the business of minimizing Isla as much as she can, she also seemed to always be in the most convenient of places to make sure she can reinforce her agenda of protecting Isla as well as the idea that she needs help. I understand she was supposed to be written as a major betrayal, however, it was very easy to follow the trail of the villain back to her. Just studying her actions, her words, what she does are kind of some flags pointing towards her.

SUPPORTING CHARACTERS:

Azul, Cleo, Ella, Poppy, Terra and Juniper.

I loved how friendly Azul was to Isla, and I am very sad for him in regards to what happened with his husband. Cleo felt like she was planted as an obvious choice for Isla to hate, or be suspicious of, though I do like her as a ruler because it was shown just how loyal her subjects are to her, and how far she'll go to protect them. Ella was very easy to like. She made me feel like she's someone I want to protect. With regards to Poppy and Terra, I am able to understand why they did what they did to Isla and her parents, however I cannot accept or ignore it. What they did to Isla--gaslighting her, manipulating her, lying to her, that is something that I cannot understand nor accept. I don't get why it was just skimmed over, I get it it was nearing the end of the book, but come on. I really hoped it would have warranted a little bit more of a reaction from Isla. She had more of a reaction towards Grim than them which was really rude imho. Out of all the supporting characters, I would like to see more of Cleo, and see how she plays into the plot of Lightlark.

Theories

Do I have theories about Lightlark? I'm not sure if these actually counts as theories, they're more like hopeful predictions for me, maybe even wishful thinking. Haha.

Mainly, I hope that the second book would be better written than the first in a way that it would be less difficult to follow, and it would have a more consolidated approach to the information we would need to understand the lore of Lightlark.

Now, for what I think will actually happen in the next book, I just have a few thoughts to share. First, I think that when Isla regains her full memories about her time with Grimshaw, she will understand further why Grim did what he did. Second, I think that Isla is going to find out the truth about the darkness/evil that the Nightshade realm is standing against, and I think Isla will find out that Oro is either behind that evil or he has something to do with it, and in a way has either convinced the other rulers to side with him or he has tricked them to side with him. I think that Isla will go back to Grim (because Oro feels more icky than Grim lol) and I do honestly think that something else is causing Oro's degeneration (the thing that's happening to his arm and body). I think we're also going to see how powerful Isla actually is when she finally trains her abilities as a Wildling ruler, and also her Nightshade powers plus the powers she got from winning the Centennial, and lastly, I think we're going to see just how Rhys coded Grimshaw Malvere actually is lol.

Will I be continuing the series and buying the next book or dropping it entirely?

I will be buying the next book -- Nightbane. At first I thought I would actually be DNF-ing the book, but I wanted to find out more about Grim, and after reading the last few chapters, I am determined to know more about him.

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pretentious-blonde · 4 months ago

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steady

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: healing is never easy, but steve surprises even himself with his progress

warnings: ptsd, anxiety, therapy sessions, depression

a/n: angst!! robin makes an appearance too. steve is kind of smitten and he loves it <3

series masterlist

Steve slouched in the passenger seat of Robin’s car, sunglasses perched on his nose, hiding the tension marring his features. If you could see him, you’d notice the subtle clench of his jaw, the way his hands rested in tight fists on his thighs.

He kept his eyes shut against the morning light—though the tinted lenses helped, the brightness still drilled into his temples, intensifying the dull, throbbing ache that had settled behind his eyes. The quiet inside the vehicle was unusually deliberate, a courtesy Robin extended with careful consideration.

She was never one to enjoy silence, but she was trying. Like she always did for him.

He shifted, pressing his head a bit further into the seat. The sound of tires on asphalt rolled beneath them like thunder, matching the faint ringing in his ear. It was a small remnant of older injuries—injuries he’d earned through too many head-on collisions with fists and floors.

Still, he felt lucky. After all, pain was a familiar adversary, and these headaches came around far less frequently than they used to.

A glance at her told him all he needed to know: her shoulders stiff with concentration, hands gripping the wheel lightly, eyes skimming across the road. She gave him a little smile, more a twitch than anything. She’d barely spoken a word since he got in, not wanting to rile his migraine. It reminded him of just how fiercely she cared.

They were heading to his weekly appointment, a routine that once felt more like a punishment than a path to healing. He’d spent his first two sessions in complete silence, arms crossed, mouth sealed shut.

Steve Harrington didn't need a therapist. The idea of seeing felt like admitting defeat. But Robin—gentle, but tearful—had practically dragged him back, desperately pleading for her best friend to return to himself.

The memory arose every time he buckled in for these drives, reminding him that sometimes letting people in was the only way to get out of the mess in his head.

“Almost there,” Robin said softly, her voice subdued. A pang of guilt flared inside him; he knew she had better things to do on her Saturday morning than play chauffeur. Yet here she was. She always was when he needed her.

He opened his eyes as the car glided into the parking lot, the movement so careful it barely jolted him. The world outside looked too bright—even through sunglasses—and his headache began to pulse in protest. When she killed the engine, she turned to him, eyes filled with caution.

“You alright with getting in?” she asked. Her voice was as gentle as her driving.

“Yeah.” Drawing in a breath and forcing a small, wry smile. “Pretty sure I remember the way.” He joked through the dull throb in his skull.

She nodded, and he carefully pushed the door open. The sudden rush of cooler air felt refreshing. A stab of pain shot through his temple, and he winced, one hand lifting to shield his eyes from the sun. As he stood, he turned back toward her.

“I just… I wanna say I’m sorry again, for waking you up and making you drive me. I hate—”

“Don’t.” She held up a hand before he could finish. “It’s no problem. Seriously.”

There was reassurance in her tone, and it squeezed his heart. He hated imposing, but her unwavering support was something he grew to accept.

“What you gonna do for the hour?” he asked, a little softer now.

“I’ve got my reading material. I’m all set.” She patted a worn paperback tucked into the side of the driver's door. She waved him off, managing a playful eye-roll. “Now go. You’ll be late.”

He nodded and headed towards the entrance, stepping through the lobby steadily as not to jostle his head around. The walls were painted in cool tones that did nothing to ease the piercing sunlight still dancing at the edges of his vision.

Despite that, he managed a half-smile at the receptionist—he’d been here enough times now to know the woman, though he never quite remembered her name. He headed for Dr Avery’s office, following the familiar hallway until he found the right door.

He knocked once, the sound dull against the wood, and a voice called from within.

“Come in.”

Pushing the door open, he hesitated, sunglasses still shielding his eyes. The elderly doctor glanced up from a small stack of files, his expression softening into a gentle smile.

“Migraine?” he asked, and though his voice was calm, concern wove through it.

“Yeah,” he admitted with a huffed laugh, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. In response, Dr Avery rose from behind his desk, crossing the room to draw the blinds. Morning sunlight turned softer, and the shift in brightness made his shoulders relax a fraction.

“Better?” Dr Avery said, settling back into his chair.

In one smooth motion, Steve slid his sunglasses off, resting them on his knee as he sank into the chair opposite. He closed his eyes for a second, letting the dimmer light settle over him.

“Much,” he murmured, pressing his fingertips against his temples.

Silence hung in the room. It was gentle in the way Dr Avery seemed to cultivate it in all their sessions.

“So, how has your week been?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a one-shouldered shrug.

“It’s been alright,” he answered, gesturing toward his temple with the hand clutching his glasses. “Apart from, you know…”

“It’s been a while since you’ve had a migraine.” Dr Avery nodded, thoughtful. “Any idea what might’ve triggered it?”

“Not really,” Steve said, mouth tightening into a line. “Didn’t sleep too well last night.”

“Any reason for that?” came the quiet prompt.

He shrugged, gaze drifting away. “Same old dreams.”

There was a pause—a measured moment that the doctor always seemed to use to let Steve choose how much he wanted to reveal.

“Still bad?” He finally asked when he realised he wouldn’t elaborate.

“They’ve died down a bit this week.” He exhaled, brow furrowing. “Guess my mind’s been busy with other stuff.”

A knowing spark crossed Dr Avery’s eyes.

“Drama with the kids?”

A snort of laughter startled from Steve’s chest, a quick bloom of humour in the midst of his fatigue.

“No, not quite,” he said, shaking his head fondly. “Though Lucy still can’t tie her shoes. You’d think she’d have mastered it by now with all my help, but… nope.”

“Is that so?” Dr Avery asked, lips quirking in amusement.

“Yeah,” he replied, rolling his eyes in that trademark exasperation that came from too many hours spent cajoling a stubborn little girl to make bunny ears with the laces. “She should just stick to Velcro. Less drama that way.”

A comfortable chuckle passed between them, the air relaxing for a moment. But he wasn’t surprised when Dr Avery steered them back on track—he’d noticed long ago how adept the therapist was at re-centring him whenever he started wandering off-topic.

Which—in his defence—Steve was especially prone to.

“So,” Dr Avery said gently, leaning forward a bit, “what’s really been on your mind lately?”

Steve’s hand tightened around the armrest of the chair. The lighthearted spark in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something softer. He took a slow breath, like he was trying to gather the right words.

“I... I met someone…” He said slowly, feeling the words out.

His confession hung in the air—three simple words, but they carried a weight that was far greater than the simple sentence.

He held his breath for a moment, as though he were afraid that speaking it out loud might shatter the illusion. He could practically see Dr Avery’s features shift into gentle encouragement, the slight lift of eyebrows and a softness around his eyes.

It was the same look the therapist always gave him whenever Steve cracked open the door to something new, something vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, tried to muster some of that confidence people used to say he had in spades back in high school. It felt a little rusty, but it was there, somewhere beneath the bruises.

“Who is this someone?” Dr Avery asked quietly. Knowing the importance of the question.

Steve couldn’t stop the small grin that crept onto his face. He fiddled with the sunglasses perched on his knee—still mindful of the headache pressing at his temples, but somehow the ache felt muted by a rush of something much sweeter.

“She’s new in town,” he began, voice a little shy, “took over the old bookshop. You know the one down on Oak? Kids needed some books, so I asked if she could deliver them. And she did—personally.” He shook his head in astonished awe. “I mean, talk about customer service, right? Even managed to track down some of my favorite titles on, like, super short notice.”

Dr Avery’s lips curved into a smile. “She sounds nice.”

“You have no idea,” Steve replied, eyes lighting up as memories tumbled through his mind. He had to fight back the grin that threatened to become almost giddy. “When she came by the school, I asked her out for coffee. Honestly, I thought she’d say no—I mean—I barely even know her—she was just doing her job. But she said yes.” He let out an incredulous little chuckle. “Even looked happy I asked.”

“So, you met up with her?”

“Twice,” Steve confirmed, leaning forward in his seat as though admitting a grand secret. “We got coffee both times—nothing serious, but…” He paused, remembering the feeling of those events. In the coffee shop’s atmosphere, he’d felt almost normal, like he could forget the the weight of the last few years.

“She laughed at my jokes,” he continued, voice tinged with a note of disbelief, “and I mean really laughed—not just being polite—she actually thought I was funny.”

He couldn’t quite disguise how much that simple fact thrilled him. For so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to feel that weightless. You didn’t know every part of him yet. And in that ignorance, there was a freedom he hadn’t felt in ages.

Steve glanced down at his sneakers, twisting the sunglasses in his hands as though he couldn’t quite meet Dr Avery’s gaze. After a moment, he exhaled softly and spoke again.

“She, uh… she called me a few nights ago,” he began, running a hand through his hair. “It was late—maybe past ten? I was cleaning up—you know, trying to settle down for the night. Then the phone rang. I kind of panicked for a second before I heard her—I mean, nobody usually calls that late on a school night, unless—”

He paused, eyes flicking up to gauge Dr Avery’s reaction. The therapist merely offered a small, encouraging nod, so Steve continued, his voice growing steadier as he found the story’s thread.

“Turns out she was reworking her finances,” he explained. “Something about spreadsheets and reorganising… stuff—moving money around, I don’t know. Not my thing. She sounded stressed, though. Tired. I could hear it in her voice—even when she tried to laugh it off, there was this… tension, you know?”

“She asked me if I could just… tell her about my day.” His gaze trailed to a spot on the floor, a slight smile creeping onto his face. “Said she needed something to take her mind off the numbers, something that’d make her smile.” He shook his head, as if still in mild disbelief. “And I did—told her anything I could think of. Stupid stuff. But every time she asked me more I—”

A faint flush of color touched his cheeks as he forced himself to stop rambling. He shifted in his chair, the memory clearly stirring emotions he was still getting used to.

“Honestly,” he admitted with a small shrug, “by the end of that call, I was the one feeling better—like, just by giving me a reason to talk. It was… I don’t know.” His smile broadened as he grasped for the right words. “It felt good to be that guy again.”

Dr Avery’s lips curved in a thoughtful smile, and he leaned forward as though to speak. But Steve, caught up in the rush of the memory, beat him to it.

“I guess that’s why I’m so thrown off by how easy it’s been,” he said, voice going soft. “I was worried I wouldn’t know how to do this. But with her… it’s just been simple.”

He let out a slow breath, hands finally coming to rest on his knees, attention lifting to meet the doctor. His eyes held a sheen, a hope that felt fragile but very, very real.

“So, yeah,” Steve finished, voice hushed. “She called me, and I ended up talking her ear off. Turns out we both needed that call.”

Dr Avery, picking up on that far-off look in Steve’s eyes, nodded approvingly.

“I’m really happy for you, Steve,” he said. “Truly. This is a big step.”

His cheeks felt a little warm, and he shrugged as if to downplay it.

“It’s—yeah, well, it’s not like we’re official or anything,” he joked weakly, but there was a trace of a blush there that gave him away.

“No, Steve, really,” Dr Avery pressed, leaning forward. “Think about you this time last year. You’ve come a long way.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing aside. “When you put it like that…”

Dr Avery’s expression brightened with approval. “Would you like to talk about what you want to do next?”

Steve’s eyes shot back up, and there was a flash of that old charismatic grin—boyish, genuine.

“Sure,” he said, settling a little more comfortably into the chair. And he meant it, because he knew exactly what he wanted to spend the rest of this session talking about.

Steve wasn’t entirely sure why he was walking toward the bookshop. In fact, he was pretty certain that turning around would be the more logical, less awkward option. But even as the thought crossed his mind, his feet kept moving forward—one in front of the other—carrying him down the quiet street. The evening sun dipped low in the sky, casting the storefronts in long shadows.

He told himself it was a casual visit—you were just on his way home. That was all. After his session this morning and an afternoon spent napping off his migraine, he needed some fresh air. Dr Avery’s words stuck in his head, all that gentle encouragement about letting himself explore how he felt.

So here he was, hoping he didn’t look like some creep for showing up out of the blue.

By the time he reached your door, the shop lights shone softly in the evening dim. He hesitated for a split second before pushing inside, setting off the familiar chime of the overhead bell.

No turning back now.

“Hello?” he called softly, stepping past a stack of books near the entrance.

“Steve?” Your voice echoed from somewhere off to the side, recognising his voice.

“Uh, yeah?” he answered, glancing around the shelves.

“Round here!” you directed.

He followed your voice and turned the corner—and immediately his heart lurched.

You were on a rickety ladder, precariously reaching for a high shelf. Before he could even say a word, the ladder lurched dangerously to one side, and his instincts kicked in, sharp as ever due to his line of work.

He surged forward, grabbing the frame to hold it steady. The sudden jolt of movement made you stumble, and you shot him a sheepish look as you clung to a shelf.

“Whoa—hey,” he said, breath tight in his chest as he stabilised you. “I spend all day trying to avoid broken bones, now I gotta to look out for yours, too?”

You looked down at him, a pang of sympathy stirring at the worry across his face. His hands remained firmly gripping the ladder, but his eyes were filled with concern.

You mumbled a flustered apology, claiming you were nearly finished. But he didn’t buy it.

“Sure you were.” He gave the ladder a cautionary glance. “Please, just…get down? Before you break your neck?”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright.” Rolling your eyes, you began to climb down, one careful step at a time.

Reaching the floor, you rested a hand on his shoulder for balance. It was a small gesture, but warmth prickled across the back of his neck.

He liked being the steady one for a change.

“You need a new ladder,” he said, trying to sound more authoritative than concerned.

“If it lasted this long, it’s fine,” you scoffed, though he could tell you knew how bad it was. He bit back the urge to argue, exhaling a quiet laugh at your stubbornness.

Once you were safely on your own two feet, you turned to face him, dusting off your hands.

“So, back already for new reading material?”

He blinked, suddenly feeling the weight of his spontaneous visit.

“Uh—no, actually.” He cleared his throat, searching for something that sounded casual. “You were just on my way home, and, y’know…felt rude not to say hi.”

His heart tripped over itself as you offered a small smile.

“Hi,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his.

“Hi,” he echoed, a bit breathless. For a moment, neither of you spoke. He coughed to break the silence. “So, um—doing some reorganising ‘round here?”

“Sort of,” you gestured toward two large boxes in the corner. “Got a delivery yesterday. I was putting it away before I nearly met my demise on that death trap.”

His gaze shifted to the boxes. “That’s… quite a few books.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, “my supplier wanted to clear out some stock, so he gave me a really good deal. Now I kinda regret it, because I’m gonna be stuck here all evening.”

His posture straightened. The chance to help—to be useful—sparked a little excitement in him.

“I can stay,” he offered, maybe too quickly. “I mean—I can help. If you want.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “No, you don’t have to do that on your day off. I feel guilty just thinking about it.”

“Seriously,” he shook his head, giving you a reassuring smile. “I’m weirdly good at organising stuff. Used to work at the video store—returns master, right here.” He pointed at himself, a teasing grin playing on his lips.

He had always thought that job would never prepare him for anything, yet here it was—proof that even the worst gigs could have their silver linings. He found himself almost grateful to Keith for all the menial tasks he’d been forced to complete while working there.

You giggled at his proud proclamation, the sound sending a pleasant shiver through him.

“I still feel bad making you work.”

“I got nowhere else to be,” he admitted, shrugging in an attempt at nonchalance, though he couldn't fully hide his eagerness. “Really. Let me help.”

“Fine, fine.” You gave in, lifting your hands in mock defeat. “You take the box on the left. I’ll take the one on the right.”

“Deal,” he said, stepping up to the nearer box. He pried open the cardboard flaps, inhaling the familiar scent of new books and packing paper.

It took you less than an hour to reach the bottom of the boxes, with Steve finishing his first and immediately jumping in to help with yours. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was good at alphabetising. Only asking intermittently about which genre section he should place them in.

He sank onto the velvet couch with a satisfied sigh, leaning his head against the backrest. The shop felt cosier now that all the new arrivals were tucked away on the shelves, along with the soft lanterns overhead. He had to give it to you, this place really was charming.

“That was faster than I expected,” you remarked, settling beside him.

“What’d I tell you?” He shot you a playful grin. “Basically a professional.”

"You’re full of surprises," you muse, nudging his knee lightly with yours.

He shrugs, but there’s a hint of something pleased in his expression. It feels good to be praised by you specifically.

You tilt your head, watching him for a moment. "Are you thirsty?"

"A little,” he starts to shake his head. “But honestly, don’t worry—"

“Wait here.” You sprang to your feet, practically bouncing toward the back of the shop and up the stairs that led to your apartment above. He watched you go, a smirk tugging at his lips and his eyelids feeling heavier. The place felt oddly empty without your presence, but he still found it comforting nonetheless.

He felt truly at ease here, already picturing himself marking homework—messy sums and misspelt words scattered across the pages. It would be a relief not to do it under the harsh glare of the classroom lights; maybe it would even help with his headaches.

God, he was getting ahead of himself.

Light footsteps on the stairs made him blink awake. You appeared, carefully balancing two steaming mugs. The soft light from the overhead bulbs illuminated the proud smile on your face.

“Oh?” He sat up straighter, intrigued. “What’s this?”

“Hot chocolate,” you announced proudly, offering him one of the mugs as you begin quote him. “Apparently 'everyone likes it.'”

He took the mug gently, trying not to pay too much attention as your fingertips against his.

“That they do,” he chuckled, voice low. "Thanks."

You looked so pleased—like you were giving him a gift far more precious—and it made his chest tighten. You settled in next to him again, blowing on the surface of your drink. Your gaze flicked over his face.

“Were you falling asleep on me?” you teased.

“Never,” he insisted, taking a sip. Warm sweetness spread across his tongue, making him sigh in contentment. “Just had a long day.”

“Well, now I feel even worse for making you stick around.”

“Hey,” he said, shaking his head and lifting his mug in mock salute, “It’s worth the reward.”

A small smile touched your lips. “Fair enough.”

He cleared his throat, trying not to look too anxious as he ventured.

“So, are you gonna be busy next week?” He kept his eyes on the rising steam so you wouldn’t catch just how much this question mattered to him.

“Not sure.” You gave a casual shrug. “Sometimes this place is packed, other times it’s dead quiet. But I like it—I get to meet new people. It’s one of the best parts of owning a shop, you know? Everyone eventually wanders in.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” He nodded. “Hawkins isn’t huge, so…makes it easier to get familiar with folks.”

“Quality over quantity, right?” you quipped, and Steve swore you shot him a sidelong look that made the tips of his ears burn. He swallowed, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto his face.

He took another sip of cocoa.

“Right,” he echoed. Then, his heart thrumming, unable to stop from himself from blurting out the question. “See me next week?”

“Huh?” You blinked, a bit confused.

Realising how direct that sounded, he fumbled to correct himself.

“I mean—are you free next week? We could…do something. Grab dinner?”

He hoped his recovery was smooth, maybe he was coming on a little strong, but he couldn’t help it. It had been so long since he’d felt hopeful about something, and every time he was around you, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift.

Call him selfish, but if you’d let him, he wanted to soak up as much of you as he could.

A flicker of surprise crossed your features, followed by a delighted smile. “I can be free on Wednesday, I think.”

“Great.” He nodded, doing his best not to look too excited. “I’ll—I’ll book us a table somewhere. A restaurant.”

He could practically feel the adrenaline in his veins. It’d been way too long since he planned an actual dinner date, and the thought of sharing that with you felt electric.

“Do I need to dress fancy?” You grinned. It was a playful question, but he noticed a little bashfulness in your tone.

“Nah,” he said offhandedly, warmth pooling in his stomach. “You’d look beautiful no matter what you wear.”

He said it so nonchalantly that it caught you off guard and your cheeks warmed with colour, a gentle rose you tried to hide behind the rim of your mug. But he still caught the flush and felt his heart leap, safe in the knowledge that you might also feel the same as he did.

He drained the last of his hot chocolate, the flavour still clinging to his lips as he handed the mug back.

"Thanks," he said as you took his cup.

"I think I should be the one saying that," you corrected.

He rolled his eyes, leading the way to the exit, but before stepping out, he glanced back at you.

"See you Wednesday?"

You chuckled—he always repeated your plans back to you. It was endearing, but deep down, he needed the reassurance. When it came to you, he didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

"See you Wednesday," you echoed.

His grin was immediate and genuine, cheeks warming to match yours. With one last look, he slipped out the door, carrying that sweet moment with him all the way home.

Now, all that was left was to call Robin (obviously) and figure out what restaurant to book. He kicked himself for not asking what kind of food you liked, but he liked to think you trusted him with the choice.

It felt good—being in control again.

taglist: @daisy-is-a-writer @chiliwhore @kvroomi

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