Spicy Links That Gave Logan Vibes..

Dean???? A bottom????? What ever do you speak of?????????

The Fall from the Heavens Characters Moodbards He turned impatiently, extending his hand to his servant, willing him to hand him another wooden shield and froze in half-step, out of the corner of his eye noticing a silhouette looking at him from the cloisters, it seemed his heart knew who was standing there even before it reached his mind, for it began to pound like mad, his breath stopped in his throat. He forced himself to look there again and that's when he saw her, he couldn't believe how much she had changed. Although he could see the obvious features and similarities by which he recognised her immediately, her eyes, her eyelashes, the shade of her hair, the shape of her nose and face, it seemed to him that if she had been a bud when she left the Red Keep, she was now a flower that had blossomed, a ripe fruit that begged to be plucked, to bite into its flesh.

For A Good Time Call! || Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 14.6k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Phone Sex Hotline Operator!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (phone sex, m & f masturbation (including pillow humping & sex toys), f!receiving oral sex, p in v sex), language, idiots in love, mutual pining, porn WITH plot

Summary: In the Summer of 1985, Steve's social standing is at an all time low. In an act of sheer, pathetic desperation, he calls a phone sex hotline. Little does he know, his dream girl from the hotline is just an escalator away.

Steve Harrington wasn’t the kind of guy who did this. He repeated it in his head as he scribbled down the phone number— fed straight to him from a local late-night advertisement. For a good time call!

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant. And he wasn’t exactly able to ignore the way his dick twitched in his boxers as the commercial showed pretty girls twirling phone lines around manicured fingers, pretty smiles on their faces, eyes sultry and staring right through him. 

Plus, he wasn’t actually going to call. He was just… keeping the number for his records. He’d just put it in his Rolodex and forget about it. 

A week later, and he decidedly hadn’t forgotten about it. In fact, with the house empty and playboys not cutting it, it’s all he could think about. 

For a good time call. He wanted to have a good time. It had been a while since he had a good time— his stupid Scoops Ahoy uniform wasn’t exactly bolstering his natural charm. Robin could say what she wanted, but he was charming and fun and everything people usually want in a boyfriend. He was just… going through a rough patch. 

He retrieved his Rolodex and hurriedly flipped through, trying to remember where he’d hidden the number. Definitely not around his boss. And not around Nancy either. Tucked between Tommy and a past hookup, he found it. 

He set up his pillows behind his back and got comfortable before dialing the number with uncharacteristically sweaty hands. He was cooler than this was all making him seem. He was the playboy of Hawkins High— of Hawkins in general. Phone sex was nothing. 

As he dialed the number, he prepared to turn on his charm. Instead, he was led to a generic call-center script, which, after being carefully followed based on his wants and desires, took him to billing. 

“It’s a flat rate of twenty for your first ten minutes. If you finish before then, it’s still twenty, alright?”

He swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“After that, it’s fifty cents per minute. An hour session will run you about $55.” Oh. It certainly wasn’t cheap. He’d spent less on dates before. “Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah,” he said after a brief pause, his mind taking a while to catch up. “Do you need my credit card?”

By the time billing was over, his anticipation had tangled his stomach into knots. He glanced at the clock, wondering if those ten minutes would fly past him as fast as he thought they would. The line trilled as he waited to be connected to his partner for the night. Jenny. Like the song.

That song was gross, anyway. But how could he say anything about it now?

The ringing stopped, and he could hear the crackle of a quiet line on the other side, the rustle of movement. Did he need to say hi first? Was trying to start a conversation weird?

“Hi,” he said, and he wondered how he could make one word sound so utterly stupid. “Jenny, right?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed. He could picture you so clearly, despite knowing nothing— one of those pretty girls in the commercials, laying on your belly on a frilly pink bed, fingernails and toenails painted a shiny red, twirling the phone cord around your finger. “What should I call you?”

He swallowed. “Do people usually give you fake names?”

“Sometimes,” you replied. “It’s not about what other people do, baby. It’s about what you want. Do you want me to call you by a fake name?”

He wrinkled his nose. What was the worst thing that could come from a stranger knowing his first name? “No, that sounds awful. No offense.” You laughed, and he felt himself relax. “I’m Steve H—“ He cleared his throat. “Just Steve.”

“Well, I’m glad that I get to talk to you tonight Steve,” you said, and just the sultry timbre of your voice made his stomach do flips. “I’m guessing this is your first time?”

He furrowed his brows. “I’m not a virgin.”

“No, baby. I mean it seems like it’s your first time calling a hotline like this.” His face burned hot as he fumbled his way through answering, oh, yeah, I guess that’s right. “So, sweetheart, why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“Uh…” he paused, trying to think of a more polite way of saying to cum while a pretty girl talks to me. “I guess I’ve just been lonely.”

“Poor baby,” you said, and he was shocked that you didn’t have even a hint of amusement or mirth when you said it. “You want me to take care of you? Help you forget?”

His breath caught in his throat, stealing his response. His dick twitched, already half-hard and sensitive. All he could manage was a tiny whimper of, “Mhmm.”

“What do you usually think about when you’re touching yourself?” You asked, and the lack of shame in your voice made heat flare in his cheeks. He’d had some shameless hookups, but most of the girls he slept with didn’t like to talk about it. “Like, what’s your favorite fantasy, Steve?”

It was embarrassing. Mortifying, actually. It was basically the plot of a bad porno or a letter to Penthouse. 

Usually, it started by his pool. And a girl was there, wearing a cute, but ultimately tiny, bikini. The girl didn’t really matter. Well, she did, but it wasn’t about who she was. She could have been a Playmate of the Month, or a movie star, or a girl he was crushing on and wanted to ask out. All that mattered for the sake of the fantasy, was that she was pretty, had nice tits, and wanted him. 

“Does that make me awful?” He asked, pausing mid-description to gauge your perception of him. You laughed on the other end of the line. 

“God, Steve,” you said with thinly veiled amusement. “You think I give a personality and backstory to all of the people I fantasize about fucking?”

It made him feel a little better.

Anyways, there was something about summertime that just made sense to him. Skin all but steaming in the heat, the oiled up glow that came from sweaty skin. Wearing as few clothes as possible so you didn’t overheat. 

You gave a nervous laugh— breathy and sweet— on the other end of the line. “You’re really good at setting the scene, Steve.” He liked to be specific. He wanted to think about tiny details like the salty taste of skin or hair that smelled like chlorine and salt. “What’s next?”

She always started by laying on her stomach, the ties of her bikini undone so she didn’t get unsightly tan lines. She would peer at him over her shoulder with wide, innocent eyes while she asked if he could apply a bit more sunscreen on her back where she couldn’t reach. 

So he straddled her thighs, her skin burning up under his hands as he rubbed in the freezing cold sunscreen. Goosebumps would break out along her arms, and she’d have to arch away from the sensation, pushing her ass against him. 

“Are you hard already?” You asked, and his cheeks burned hot. 

“Like…” He glanced at his lap, where his cock was already straining against the fabric of his boxers. “In the fantasy or right now?”

“Is the answer the same for both?”

He let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Keep going.”

He was already impatient. Skipped right to the kissing and cut out the context and actions that led to it. Did it matter? The bikini top fell onto the ground, and she was on top of him, tits pressed into his sun-warmed chest, tongue licking into his mouth. 

God, he fucking loved kissing. He’d missed it so much since he’d graduated and his social clout had depleted to fuck all. There had been dates, and messy, slow makeouts in the back of his car since walking the stage, but not one since his first shift at Scoops Ahoy. It was killing him.

She felt so good in his lap— so warm and heavy. He could have stayed like that forever— trapped beneath a pretty girl with her tongue down his throat. But he wanted more— he always wanted more. 

He wanted more then. As he relayed his fantasy to this stranger in painstaking detail, he ached for more. His hand was flat on his tummy, and he shivered as he slipped it beneath the band of his boxers to take his cock into his hand. He groaned, the back of his head knocking against the wall.

“God, you’re cute,” your voice was so pretty. He throbbed in his grip, making him exhale a shuddering breath. “It’s okay, Steve. You can keep touching yourself while you talk to me. I want you to.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice broken by a tiny whimper. “I don’t have to.”

“I’m sure, baby,” you insisted. “What do you do next, hm? I’m on top of you, kissing you nice and slow, grinding my hips against yours because I just can’t help myself. Tell me what you’re going to do to me.”

“I’d—“ He swallows hard, eyes shut tight. “I’d want to taste you.”

In the fantasy, his hands gripped the back of your thighs, moving you up his body so you were just above his mouth. He was suave and sexy. He’d pull the bow at your hip with his teeth so your swim bottoms fell off like they were nothing. 

And it would feel so comfortable beneath you— so natural for him. He’d just barely have to lean forward to have his mouth on you, already wet so he could taste you on his tongue. He’d moan at your taste— he fucking loved the way pussy tasted, even if he got shit for it in the locker room when he admitted it— and pull you down onto his mouth so he could get impossibly closer. 

It would be messy— a mix of spit and slick on his mouth and chin, making the tip of his nose shine. He’d spend as long as he wanted beneath you, pulling every noise he could from your lips, trapped between your thighs. He wouldn’t stop until you came— once at a minimum, more if he was feeling greedy.

“All this attention on little old me,” you teased. “Would you let me take care of you? I could slip off those swim trunks of yours and make you feel good.”

He had set a steady pace— hand gliding up and down his length as his fantasy continued to evolve. “Yeah,” he managed, but his voice came out strangled and desperate. “You’d put your hand down my shorts and tease me. Your hand would feel so good. Warm and soft. You’d, uh, tell me how big I am, how you wanted to feel me stretch your uh— your—.”

“My what, baby?” Your voice dripped with amusement and mirth. “My pussy?”

“Fuck.” It came out with an exhale, his heart hammering.

“You like it when girls say dirty things to you, Steve?” You asked, and he could hear your smirk. “You want me to beg for your cock so deep inside of me that I feel you in my stomach? Or tell you how warm and wet and tight I feel around my fingers?”

Steve groaned, throbbing in his grip as he worked himself faster. “Fuck, are you really?”

“Mhmm,” you replied. “Think about how good I’d feel when you finally let yourself fuck me. You were such a gentleman first, but you don’t have to be with me. I want to make this all about you.”

But he was a gentleman. Of course he wanted to get his dick wet and et cetera, but that wasn’t really why he liked sex. He liked making people feel good all because of him— hearing the pretty noises they made, watching their initial shyness melt away into unabashed desire. 

A lot of the time (most of the time), he felt like a huge fuck-up. Abysmal grades (well, more around average), not good enough for sports scholarships, basically every bit the son that his parents didn’t want to have. Who could really blame him for relishing in the times when he could be good and impressive to someone other than himself?

Whatever. If he thought about that train of thought for more than, like, ten seconds, he’d lose his hard-on and probably start crying into the receiver and spilling all of his life’s worst moments. He really couldn’t imagine anything more pathetic than that. 

So he thought about something else. 

He thought about how he’d lay you down on a beach towel, warmed in the sun, cradled by plush grass beneath it. He’d feel awkward about shucking off his swim trunks— he always hated undressing because it felt so awkward. But you’d look at him like he was the most attractive guy in the whole world. 

He was a sap, what could he say? He would hold your hand too, squeezing it with his as he lined up with your entrance. You’d be so wet that it felt slick and he’d feel proud just knowing he did that to you.

When he finally pushed into you, your eyes would be locked on his, warm with emotion, like the entire world just melted away. And how could he not kiss you? When everything felt so good and your legs were wrapped around his waist and each breath was punctuated by soft, desperate sounds? 

It would feel special. With your foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air. He just wants to be as close to you as possible— needs to feel every inch of your skin, sweaty and sun-warmed, against his. He’d just… bury himself deep inside of you and grind into you. It felt more intimate that way.

He could feel himself getting close. A furrow formed between his brows as he chased his high. Moans broke up his words as he brought himself closer and closer. 

“I’d— fuck— I’d rub your clit. Make you cum before I got there. It’d feel so— so fucking good too. It always feels so good. Oh god. Fuck, I’m close.”

“Go ahead, baby. I want to hear you.”

His entire body shuddered as he came, spilling messily onto his belly and chest. It felt like it lasted forever— that warm, perfect feeling of reaching his peak. He was panting as he came down, stroking himself until overstimulation made him whimper. 

“Fuck… maybe I should pay you for that,” you said after a beat. “Did it feel good, Steve?  Feel a little less lonely?”

“Mhmm,” he replied. He was spent— already feeling languid and heavy. “That was… Really perfect.”

“I’m glad.” You paused again,  and he spent that time trying to catch his breath. “I’m on every night around this time. Like, from around ten to two. I’d like to hear more of your fantasies, maybe even act one out with you, if you’d want that?”

His heart hammered, and he felt incredibly stupid as a blush crept up his neck and cheeks. “Yeah, I’ll call you again soon.”

When you said your good nights, he laid back against his pillows. The dial tone played over the speakers as he stared up at his ceiling, spend cooling on his tummy. Leave it to King Steve to fall for someone he had to pay to talk to.

Your eyelids drooped as you manned the checkout counter at Waldenbooks, one of few stores at the mall that could actually be found vacant during a busy summer day. Last night had been a late one— it didn’t help that you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, your mystery caller. 

It felt stupid to get hung up on the type of guy who had to call a hotline to get his rocks off, especially when you knew precious little about him. You had his name, his general location, that he had a pool, and he had a nice voice. 

Your bangs lifted as you blew a puff of air out the side of your lips, slowly going insane to the sound of Muzak playing softly through the speakers. 

Steve… Did you know any Steve’s? Steve Crandall got into a motorcycle wreck the year after graduation and died. Then there was Steve Odell who moved off to California on some crazy tech idea he swore was going to change the world. Steven Ferris? He seemed like the type, but there was no way he owned a pool since you were pretty sure he lived in the basement of some old couple’s house. That wiped out your graduating class, at least. 

From your perspective on the second floor, you had a perfect view of the fine piece of ass working the ice cream parlor. He was cute— definitely younger than you by a couple of years— and the stupid costume they had him in surprisingly did it for you. You could watch him mop up spilled sorbet all day and it’d be jerk-off material for the next week. 

  He had nice biceps. And thighs. Fucking hell, the things you’d do to get between those and —

“New releases?” You snap your gaze to the other side of the counter, where a woman with pink lipstick on her teeth looks at you impatiently. 

You plastered on a winning smile and pointed a manicured finger to the other side of the store. “That big shelf on the left-hand wall over there,” you said with saccharine sweetness. “Anything else that I can help you with, ma’am?” 

She frowned and you fought a grin. There was nothing that women pushing forty hated more than being called ma’am. You might as well have been telling them they had a foot in the grave. 

The day passed by with minimal hiccups. You convinced someone to buy your favorite book, so that was a win. And you’d gotten to restock the fun pencils. You clocked out and shrugged off the vest you wore on top of your normal clothes and took your hair down from its ponytail to hang loose on your shoulders. Your perm was kind of killing you. It never sat just how you wanted, almost like it had a mind of its own. 

You made your way out of the mall with a brief glance towards Scoops Ahoy, which was notably missing the hot guy you’d been lusting after since your first day on the job. With a dejected sigh, you escaped the crowded, piercingly loud mall and stepped into the hot summer air. 

Most people (or, more accurately, children) were heading for the busses that would shuttle people back into the town square or their respective neighborhoods, but your car waited for you in the exclusive Employees Only lot in the shade. As you turned to head that way, you bumped straight into a tall, firm figure. 

Huh, you thought. He smells like hot fudge and maraschino cherries. I like those things.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I thought you were headed for the bus like everyone else.”

You looked up, squinting against the sun, and felt heat flood your cheeks when you realized that it was the hot ice cream scooper. “Oh, it’s, uh—“ you stammered nervously. It was never as easy as the phone line. “I was too.” You wanted to hit yourself. What the hell were you even talking about?

His brows furrowed. “You were what?“

Fuck. “I… uh— don’t know,” you finally said, ready for the conversation to end forever. “I’ll see you around.” And you were gone. You almost missed him calling after you.

You will?

But you pretended you’d never heard it. 

——

Steve called at midnight, just as you brewed your second cup of coffee of the night. You took a quick sip as the call was directed your way, already feeling much more awake in anticipation of what lay ahead. 

“Hey, Steve,” you greeted, adjusting your voice to that casual, sexy cadence that you had perfected. “I was thinking about you all day today.”

Steve responded with a dismissive psh. “I’m going to pretend that’s true, because I was thinking of you too,” he said, and you could hear his grin. “I kept screwing up at work because I’d get distracted thinking about you.”

You felt heat creep into your cheeks. “Baby, you’ll make me blush.” You paused, chewing on your lip briefly. “So… what’s in the cards for tonight, Steve? What do you want to do with me?”

He paused so long that you almost thought the call had dropped, but eventually he worked up the nerve to continue. “Well, you heard my fantasy last time. This time I want to hear yours.”

You snorted a laugh. “Steve, baby, that’s so incredibly sweet, but you could hate it, or think it’s boring, and then I’ll feel guilty for wasting your money.”

“I won’t,” he insisted. “C’mon, it’ll help us get to know each other better.”

You exhaled slowly through your nose, your tummy already fluttering with thoughts of the hot sailor shelling out dollar ice cream cones with extra sprinkles on top. 

Fuck. 

“Alright, but if you hate it, you’ve gotta promise me that you’ll tell me to shut up and we’ll do something else.” He hummed in affirmation and you laid back against your pillows, sighing as you closed your eyes and fell into your newfound, perfect little fantasy. 

“So… when I’m not doing sexy phone calls, I work a menial job,” you begin. “And normally, I’d be, like, wearing an ugly polo or vest or something with our logo on it, but for the sake of sexiness, let’s say that I’m wearing a cute little dress and my hair looks, like, perfect.”

“What does your hair look like normally?” Steve asked, hung up on the one detail that was specifically for your sake. God, you wanted to burn your local salon to the ground. 

“Uh,” you paused, wondering if you should tell the truth. “So I told my hairstylist to go for Kelly LeBrock and she… you know… tried. It looks so cute sometimes, and then other times it has a total mind of its own.”

“Oh, Kelly LeBrock! She’s such a babe. I saw the trailer for that movie she’s gonna be in. Total fox. Great hair.”

You tried to fight a smile, but couldn’t. “Do you wanna talk hair routines, or do you want me to keep going?”

Steve paused like he was genuinely considering it. “We’ll come back to the hair. I could probably help you figure it out, you know. I’ve got great hair.”

You smirked. “Oh, yeah? Where?”

“Use your imagination.”

You grinned. Oh, I am.

You were stocking shelves, as usual— except this time you couldn’t reach the top shelf. Standing on your tiptoes, the hemline of your skirt inching up and up and up. And suddenly there was a presence behind you, reaching up to stock the shelf for you. He smelled really nice, felt warm pressed up against your back.

“Am I the handsome stranger in this scenario?”

You said yes, even though you were mostly thinking about your mystery sailor from the mall. God, even the stupid uniform did it for you. Maybe it was the short shorts.

In the fantasy, the two of you didn’t even talk— really, your fantasies were typically pretty straight to the point, unlike Steve’s. The plot and dialogue would get skipped, and then suddenly, your back was pressed against the ridges of the shelves and the handsome stranger was on his knees in front of you, kissing sloppily up your thighs. 

Usually, you’d have some sense of control— keep your hands above the belt. It was better for you that way. It gave you a sense of separation from what was real and what was happening on the phone. And, really, you never really had a particular need to touch yourself while you were handling the calls anyway. 

And yet… Your hand slipped past the elastic hand of your panties, between your thighs where you were already wet and needy from just your own imagination. You gasped into the phone, bucking your hips into your own touch. 

Steve made a choked sound, crackly through the phone’s speakers. He knew exactly what you were doing. 

“Getting all worked up thinking about it, huh?” He asked, and you could hear a slight rustling and movement as he got himself undressed. It was honestly puzzling that it took that long, or that he didn’t call already ready to go. “Sound so pretty.”

You weren’t even aware that you were making a significant amount of noise, but Steve had keyed into it easily, hanging onto every sigh and whimper. 

In your fantasy, his mouth was absolutely fucking sinful. He would moan against your cunt, nuzzling against your clit with his nose as he lapped up your slick. It was sloppy, and the sounds he made could have made the devil himself blush a burning red. His chin and mouth would drip with the combination of your juices and his spit— his fingernails leaving crescents in your thighs from where he held you tight. 

When he looked up at you from between your thighs, his gaze would be equal parts hungry and sweet. He wanted it to feel good for you because the more you get off, the better it felt for him too. When he felt you getting closer and closer, he moved his fingertip to your entrance, teasing you with featherlight grazes that gathered your essence. He pressed in, just to his first knuckle, and relished in the way you would clench around him at the smallest intrusion before he gave it to you entirely.

Despite the shitty quality of the phone, which was probably your fault, since you had owned it since at least ‘78, you could hear the slick sounds of him stroking himself to your words. And, for once, you relished in that noise across the line. 

You pushed a finger inside of yourself, then a second. Most guys you’d been with got that far then jammed them in and out at a wrist-killing speed until you faked it. Your thing was always just keeping them still, pressing against the sweet spot just barely a few inches inside. Paired with the dizzying pleasure of attention to your clit, the sensation was electric and all-consuming. 

It felt too good to stop, and yet you knew you needed to make it through your fantasy before you came and that precious euphoria rushed over you. Because after the euphoria came that strange sense of disgust, and you couldn’t really afford to spend the rest of the call grossed out by what you were doing. 

“Fuck, anyways,” you began, your breath coming in short pants. “He— you— would take off your shorts.” Stupid, tiny, tight shorts. “And, fuck, you’d already be so hard and needy. You just wanted me so bad. You would press me against the shelf and when you push into me it’d be so easy and slick and I’d feel so full.”

Your cunt pulsed around your fingers, so close to the edge that you could almost swear you were already over it. The precipice was so nice you almost didn’t mind waiting for it. You would hear Steve fucking his hand, pretty moans and grunts passing his lips as he brought himself closer. It wasn’t really fair to leave either one of you hanging much longer. 

“You’d kiss me. And it would be a little messy, but we wouldn’t care. You’d taste good, and you’d feel good. Fuck, Steve. I need to cum so bad.”

He panted into the phone and you practically mewled. God, he sounded so much better than the gross old men you usually had to deal with. “Fuck, I’m right here with you,” he managed, his voice breathy and desperate. “Let me hear you.”

Your ears rang as you came, making the world go a bit fuzzy. Distantly, you could hear how pretty Steve sounded as he came. Honestly, you’d never been one to relish in that type of thing— most guys you’d hooked up with kind of grossed you out. But, god, you’d give anything to watch him get off. Your chest heaved, rising and falling with a shiny sheen of sweat.

“So…” Steve began, sounding a little more languid and a lot more blissed out. There was a sweet, carefree quality to his voice. “Your fantasy is having sex at work?”

You rolled your eyes and fought a grin. “Hey, I didn’t judge your hot, sweaty poolside fuck session.”

”That was about making love,” He insisted. Your heart stuttered a bit. You had to admit that was sweet. “And I’m not knocking your fantasy— I just can’t even imagine someone wanting to have sex with me in my uniform.”

You grinned. “Aw, you have a uniform? I bet you look really sexy in it.”

He huffed, an annoyed groan escaping his lips. “No, I hate my uniform and I’m counting the days until I can rip it off and throw it in, like, a bonfire.”

“I can help with the ripping it off part, y’know,” you teased. 

“No,” he said firmly. “No, we’re not going there, because, one, I came so much I can’t even think about getting hard again or my dick will hurt, and two, if I start having workplace fantasies about you and my uniform I’ll get hard on the job and end up on a registry somewhere.”

“Alright, alright,” you said with a laugh. “I had fun tonight, Steve. I, uh, don’t really get a lot of people asking what I like. I don’t get anyone asking what I like, actually.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m just a pleaser, I guess.” 

He said his goodnights just before hanging up, promising to call again soon. You didn’t have a clear idea of when soon was. You’d had long-term customers promise a call soon that just dropped off the face of the earth. You laid there listening to the dial tone until it started to hurt your ears, then put the phone back on the receiver.

The bed creaked on its ancient springs as you got up, padding out into the hallway. Outside the big window at the end of the hall, you saw a lamp switch off across the street, making the house go dark. It felt a little comforting to know that boring old Hawkins was awake just like you were. 

In the bathroom, you washed your hands with cotton candy-scented soap and tugged at your misbehaving curls. Maybe you would take up Steve on his hair tips. Before you could think about Steve any longer, your phone rang again. And though part of you wished it would be Steve, you knew that there was such a thing as too soon to be ‘soon.’

There wasn’t really a point in pouting. It was decent money. You answered the phone, put on your fake voice, and got to work. 

Steve called nearly nightly for the next month. If having a backyard school wasn’t proof enough he was loaded, his ability to pay your rates nightly sealed the deal. 

It wasn’t always sexual. Well, to be fair, it was mostly sexual. No matter how much you looked forward to phone sex with Steve, you enjoyed talking to him just as much. You learned about his childhood dog, Walter, and his allegedly prodigy-like swimming skills. He was CPR certified, could say his ABCs in French (and nothing else), and loved the colors red, yellow, and blue.

You told him what you could without giving too much away. That Jenny, obviously, wasn’t your real name. Your favorite color, favorite book, favorite flower. You told him that you were in college, going back in the fall. That you only started doing this gig because textbooks were expensive and you wanted to be able to feed yourself while at school. 

Without meaning to, you started to care about Steve. It was probably stupid, and definitely against everything you thought you stood for. But somehow, he managed to squeeze into the recesses of your brain and set up camp there. Try as you might, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. 

“Alright, little Stevie, that’s your fifth wistful sigh of the day,” Robin said, marking a tally on her palm. It struck him as weird that she was counting, but it wasn’t exactly anything new. “You’ve gotta stop or I might actually start feeling bad for you.”

His chin rested in his hand, and he looked over at her with wide puppy dog eyes. “Can you love someone you’ve never met?”

Robin shrugged. “I dunno. Probably not, why?”

He sighed again, his shoulders sagging. “What if my dream girl isn’t exactly accessible? Like… she’s impossible to find and might not even live in Hawkins. She might live in, like, Indianapolis.”

Robin’s expression— the slight squint of her eyes and downturn to her lips— told him she didn’t particularly care. But the store was dead on a boring Tuesday, so digging into Steve’s life was about the only interesting thing to do on the job. 

“That sucks,” she said slowly. “How do you know this mystery soulmate?”

Steve blanched, picking at his nails as he tried to consider a reasonable excuse. “Uh… Blind setup. Very blind setup.” Robin raised an eyebrow. “I only know her number, nothing else.”

“Name?” Steve shook his head glumly. “Damn. But you think you love this girl?” Steve nodded again, but felt a little dumb. He never did things in half-measures. Never felt things that way either, so it made sense to him, but maybe it was a little crazy. 

He just couldn’t stop thinking about you. He wanted to help you with your bad perm and give you advice about how to take care of it. He wanted to surprise you at your boring job with lunch and flowers. It had been a long time since he’d been this excited about someone. 

A tinny beeping sound made him jolt, nearly slipping on the freshly mopped floor. Finally. He didn’t hesitate to tear off his work shirt, leaving him in the shorts and the white tee shirt he kept beneath it for this very reason— not having to walk out in public in full uniform.

He offered a quick bye to Robin and clocked out as quickly as he could. It had been only a week since Jenny had told him her favorite book, and he’d been saving up tips to pay for a copy at Waldenbooks. 

There was a girl behind the counter with a messy ponytail that had half-fallen-out, music blaring from her headphones. It must’ve been a mixtape because it went from some Hall and Oates song to an older Queen one. A little disjointed, but not in bad taste. She was completely immersed in the novel in her hand, so much so that she didn’t notice his presence.

“Excuse me?” He asked, putting on a winning smile. 

“What?” The girl in front of him blinked in surprise and tugged the headphones down around her neck. The music continued— saxophone and a dance beat. Staying Power. He liked that one. Once she’d paused it abruptly, she looked at him again, and he saw a glint of something in her eyes, like she recognized him.

“I’m looking for this book—“ He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket, where he had scribbled the title down as Jenny told him about it. “Do you know if it’s in stock?”

She looked at the note, then chewed on her lip anxiously. “Mhmm.” She watched him again, like she was expecting something. It took a moment, but it clicked. 

She’s the girl who bumped into him outside a month ago and said weird stuff! “Oh! You were right, I guess. About seeing me around.” He squinted, reading her name tag aloud. 

“Hm?” She blinked a few times, like she was taken out of a daydream. “Oh. Yeah, sorry about all of that. I just had a long day and my brain was fried.”

He nodded. “I get that,” he replied. “Next thing I know I’ll wake up from scooping ice cream in my sleep.” She laughed at that, a smile splitting across her features. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

Her expression faltered, just the tiniest bit. Almost enough that he wouldn’t notice, especially since she corrected it just as quickly. “I’ll go grab that book for you, ‘Kay? Just… stay here.”

She disappeared into the shelves, leaving him standing awkwardly at the counter. The store was oddly empty— he would’ve at least expected some nerdy kids like Dustin to be rooting around. When she returned, she seemed more nervous than before.

“Here, just take it—“ She said, shoving a beat-up-looking copy at him. His brows furrowed as he looked down at the copy in his hands. The cover was bent and torn in places. Corners of pages were dog eared, sticky note tabs stuck out from pages, and he could see glimpses of pen and highlighter. Noticing his confusion, she elaborated. “We’re out, but I had an old copy in my bag. I’ve already read it, so you can borrow it.”

He furrowed his brows. “Is that, like… allowed?”

“Probably!” She said with a startling lack of confidence. She swallowed, giving him an awkward smile. “Just bring it back when you’re done.”

He hesitated. “Uh… okay. Thanks.” He turned to walk away when she called out after him. 

 “Bye, Steve.” 

He wondered why that sounded so familiar. 

Fuck. 

“I mean… what are the odds?” You spoke aloud as you paced your room. When your reflection caught your attention, you felt, and looked, like a madwoman. “It’s not him. It’s not him, and I’m not going to worry about it.”

Five minutes later, you sat up in bed, unable to focus on the book you were reading. It was going to keep bothering you unless you did at least a little digging. But, Jesus, where did you even start with something like this?

“Hey, Rhonda?” You called, popping your head out of your room. “Do you remember any hot underclassmen named Steve from high school?”

Rhonda Finley was the prettiest girl from the class of ‘83. And it wasn’t an exaggeration either, seeing as she was voted Most Beautiful and Miss Hawkins within the same school year. The fact that you were even friends felt like a strange coincidence, but there you both were regardless. 

She carried all of her yearbooks into your room, settling onto the fluffy rug beside your bed. 

“You said his name is Steve?” She asked from her spot on the floor. She flipped through the old yearbook with reverence— pausing to look at photos of herself on other pages. “Steve… stevestevesteve. What about Stephen Cranston? He did the morning announcements, he was decent.”

You glanced at his picture briefly and shook your head. “No, not him,” you replied. “He’s cuter. Uh… boyish is a good word to describe him. Sharp nose and warm eyes.”

Rhonda snorted, flipping another page. “Okay, Shakespeare.” 

You chewed on your lip, watching her tab through until you made a squeak of recognition. The faintest glimpse of a younger Steve in a picture of a home economics class. “Ronnie, flip back,” you said, tapping her shoulder insistently. She did as you said and you pointed. “That’s him. Younger, but it’s him.”

She squinted, reading the small caption. “Sophomore Steve Harrington cooks up trouble in Mrs. Destefano’s Home Ec class!’” She laughed and flipped until she found the sophomore class portraits. “Yep. Steven Harrington.”

You sat back on your heels. “Huh.”

She closed the yearbook and glanced back at you. “I think I went to a pool party of his once,” Ronnie said, brows furrowed as she tried to find the memory. “He was friends with that freckle-y kid that my asshole ex was friends with. God, that was the night when we got into that screaming match and we broke up for like a month before he was begging for another chance.”

Pool party? You felt a knot in your stomach that you weren’t even sure you could have untangled at that point. Was it even possible that your mystery cute phone guy was the unbelievably attractive ice cream scooper at the mall?

No chance. You weren’t that lucky. And yet… maybe a seed of hope took root in your chest. And maybe… maybe you could get him to spill enough details to prove it. 

——

Steve called you around midnight. Your heart leapt into your throat as you answered, thrumming and threatening to burst from nerves. 

“Hey.” His voice was soft, a little tired. “I, uh, thought about you today.”

You could picture him so clearly— his soft hair, long legs, boyish charm. “Hope I wasn’t too distracting. Were you working today? What do you do?” You dug a little deeper with the question, trying to suss out any information you could. 

“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh. “I work in food service at a mall I live near. It’s nothing to write home about, I guess, but it’s temporary until I start applying for the spring semester.”

Okay, so there’s no doubt about it anymore. It was Steve Harrington, the hot ice cream scooper in the sailor suit, who was calling your line every night. The same Steve Harrington who you’d bumped into twice after your shift. 

You tried to push that aside and focus on the reason for the call. 

“So I was a welcome distraction, then?”

He laughed. “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t.” He paused. “Did you, uh… think about me?”

The hope in his voice made your heart swell. “Of course I thought about you, baby. You’re my favorite caller.” You paused, debating your next move. “I’ve been thinking about getting you all needy and desperate for me all day. About hearing your pretty sounds.”

He fucking whimpered. “I’ve spent the entire night hard just waiting to call you.” You could hear him shuffle around on the other end of the call, presumably stripping off his remaining layers. “Didn’t want to be too desperate and call too fast.”

“Poor baby,” you cooed. “Can you do something for me? It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

“Mhmm.”

“Grab a pillow and lay on your stomach for me,” you instructed. Without hesitation, you could hear the staticky sound of movement on his end as he shifted. “This might sound weird, but—“

“You want me to… to like—“ he stammered nervously. “Hump it?”

You blanched, wondering if your perverse fantasies of the hot mall guy getting off had perhaps pushed him a bit too far. “I mean…. Only if you’re into it. We can do something else.”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, I’ve… I mean— I’ve done it before.”

Oh. Butterflies buzzed around your tummy as you let yourself indulge in the mental image. “Yeah? Did it feel good?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed. You could hear rustling on the phone, like he was trying to situate himself comfortably. “Just made a mess is all.”

Fucking hell. “You gonna make a mess for me tonight, then?” You asked, twirling the phone cord around your finger. He moaned in response, and you grinned. “Aw, did you already get started, sweetheart?”

He moaned out a confirmation and you grinned, letting your free hand trail down your belly and beneath the waistband of your panties. “You already sound so pretty, Steve. So good for me, doing exactly what I say.”

The breathy sounds of his pants and moans made slickness gather between your thighs. Sounded like he hadn’t been lying about being hard and desperate all night just anticipating the call. “We’re not gonna talk tonight, we’re just gonna listen to each other,” you told him. 

Maybe it was unfair to him that you had the perfect mental image of him in your head since you already knew what he looked like. You relished in that knowledge as you coated your fingers in your wetness and rubbed small circles around your clit. 

Steve was loud, which made you wonder if his neighbors hated him. If you had to live next door to Steve Harrington and his pornstar moans, you’d probably go crazy. You were going crazy just from being on the other end of the phone. You were louder than usual too— it was a miracle that Rhonda worked nights.

It wasn’t long before you both finished— gasping and moaning into the phone’s receiver. You sighed as you laid back against your pillows, completely sated and content as you listened to Steve’s shaky breaths. 

“How’re you feeling?” You asked, fighting the desire to twirl your hair around your fingers. 

“Good,” he said finally. “Gonna have to do laundry, wash my sheets. I probably needed to anyway.” He paused. “I picked up a copy of that book you were talking about. It’s actually funny, ‘cause they were out of copies apparently, but the girl behind the counter let me have hers. Like it was meant to be, or something.”

Your heart hammered. “That’s really sweet, Steve,” you said softly. “I’m sorry in advance if you hate it.”

“I won’t!” He insisted. “I read the first couple of pages while I waited to call. I’m not the best reader, though. Might take me a while to finish it, but I do like it so far.”

You were partially convinced that you were in love with Steve Harrington, despite the fact that he wouldn’t even recognize you on the street. “This might be… I mean, maybe it’s crossing a line, and I could totally get fired for even suggesting… but—“ You hesitated. Fuck it. “I want to give you my personal line. So you don’t have to pay to talk to me. It’s not fair if we’re both enjoying the conversations but only one of us is paying, you know?”

He was quiet, almost too quiet. Nerves stirred in your belly. “Is that… you know, okay?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he said quickly. “Let me just grab a pen.”

You couldn’t help but stare longingly down into the atrium of the mall, where Steve Harrington was sweeping crumbs off of one of the booths inside Scoops Ahoy.

“Hello?” A kid snapped his fingers a few times and you swallowed down your annoyance as you turned. “We called earlier about Ender’s Game. The guy on the phone said he’d hold three copies. It’s under Mike.”

You glanced behind you, where the books clearly weren’t. Fuck Greg for making your menial job even worse. “It must’ve slipped his mind. I can grab those for you.” The kid made a bitchy face as you stepped away from the counter and you bit your tongue to keep from saying something rude. Fucking latchkey kids.

When you returned with three copies of the book, you looked at the kids skeptically. “By the way, if you stole any of the pencils or bookmarks, my boss is going to take it out of my paycheck and I won’t be able to feed my kids.”

“It costs thirty cents to feed your kids?”

You sighed and rang them up, but they continued to loiter in the shelves while you pretended to be busy. 

“There’s nothing to do,” one of them said after picking up a copy of Sports Illustrated briefly. “We should just go back to my house and play Atari.”

A red-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Lucas, we’re not playing Pong again.” She paused and glanced down towards the food court. “We could go see Steve.”

It took all your willpower not to react. 

“Why do you always want to go see Steve?” Lucas asked. “It’s not like you have a boyfriend or anything.”

“She just wants to see him because she’s got some weird crush on him,” the bitchy one said. Mike? The red-haired girl blushed nearly as fiery as her hair and shoved Mike hard. “What? We all know it. You and El are always drooling over him. It’s weird.”

“He’s nice, okay? Way nicer than you are, asshole.” She shoved past the group and left on her own, leaving the other two guys to scramble after her. One kid was left behind, the one with the unfortunate bowl cut. He offered a wave before he followed after them. 

When they got downstairs, you watched him greet the redhead with a smile and a ruffle of her hair. Lucas and the bowl-cut kid got a slap on the back, and the bitchy one got a half-smile that wasn’t returned. 

Then he shelled out free ice cream, which was evident because none of them made a move to pay. 

After they left, you watched him reach into his own wallet and cover the cost, placing the bills carefully into the cash register. 

The rest of your shift was spent fawning over Steve and flipping through issues of the magazines you had on display. You felt idiotic gazing at Steve Harrington with puppy dog eyes while reading Top Ten Ways to Know if He’s Really Into You! Of course he wasn’t into you— he didn’t even know who you were, not really. 

Around two in the afternoon, you were snapped out of your reverie by the sight of Steve walking through the threshold of the shop, looking around the shop before his gaze settled on you and lit up in recognition. 

“Hi!” He said, nearly knocking over a carefully displayed unofficial biography of Reagan on his way over. You smiled, straightening your posture as he approached. “I wanted to thank you for the book.”

Your heart thumped. “Oh, you don’t need to thank me,” you insisted. “I just wanted to help.”

He reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out two coupons to Scoops Ahoy with a flourish. They advertised free ice cream in the nautical scrawl. “Does this change your mind?” He raised his brows and smiled smugly. 

You rolled your eyes and grabbed them, reading the fine print. Valid only at the Starcourt Mall location on weekdays between 8am and 11am. Offer not valid in conjunction with any other deals. Offer excludes banana splits, sundaes, and the U.S.S. Butterscotch.

“Maybe,” you replied. “Is free ice cream your thing or something? I saw you give that group of kids free sundaes earlier.”

He furrowed his brows, considering it, then grinned. “Are you watching me?”

Fuck. You spluttered, shaking your head as you fumbled through a response. “No. They were here first, then talked about going to see you, and then I just…” He laughed and leaned over the desk slightly, as if testing the view. 

“Oh, yeah. Perfect view from here.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat burning in your cheeks. “So you come here to thank me with shitty coupons, and then you accuse me of spying on you?”

He shook his head as he leaned back. “Hey, it’s not accusing you if it’s true.” He was so smug. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. See you around?” He looked at you expectantly until you nodded, face burning hot. He smiled, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked out casually like he hadn’t just totally caught you creeping on him. 

God, you were going to make him pay for that later. 

——

Steve paced around his room as he tried to gain the courage to call you. He would have liked to say that he needed to get your number from his Rolodex, but he’d memorized it nearly the moment he put it down on paper. 

He was thinking of you, but he was also thinking about the girl from the mall who seemed to keep popping up. There was something about her, the way he was drawn to her, the way she spoke, the way she looked at him. It was all so familiar and easy, like they’d known each other forever. 

He didn’t know how to feel about that. 

Finally, he settled on his bed, dressed only in a thin white tank top and boxers that were a size too big since he stopped working out as much. With nerves buzzing in his ears, he dialed your number and waited. 

And waited. And waited. He swallowed hard, wondering if you’d given him a fake number just to be rid of him. The number went to the answering machine, and his mouth went dry. 

“Hi! You’ve reached Y/N Y/L/N. I’m out right now, but leave your name and number at the beep and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!” A beep sounded and Steve hung up suddenly. His stomach sank. 

He wasn’t supposed to know your real name like that. It felt like some gross intrusion. And yet, he repeated it over and over again in his mind. Why did it seem so familiar?

On his nightstand, the beat up paperback he had borrowed stood out like a sore thumb. Oh. The book, the same book you, Jenny, had told him about. And the girl who worked there… Y/N. 

It was too much, far too much to be a coincidence. He grabbed the book and opened it to look at the inside cover, where your name, Jenny’s name was scrawled inside. Because you and Jenny were the same person. 

Every single conversation leading up to that point played over in his mind. The messy perm, the shitty job with the ugly polo, the fantasy about being pushed against the shelves and fucked. Oh, God. And you were totally spying on him. 

It should’ve been an absolute win for him, but his stomach turned as he glanced over at the phone on the receiver. You were gorgeous and funny and smart and so sexy. Why would you want to be with someone who needed to call a sex hotline?

He could just picture the look on your face when you discovered that the guy who worked in the stupid uniform at Scoops was so pathetic that he needed to call someone to get attention. 

He swallowed hard, guilt and doubt settling icy in his stomach. He put the book down, and didn’t call back.

——

Steve was sulking during his shift. Probably biting the heads off of a few too many kids who asked for a few too many samples. 

“Jesus, how many times do you need to try cotton candy?” He snapped as he dug out a tiny spoonful of the pink and blue ice cream. The kid furrowed his brows up at him, puzzled by the sudden outburst. 

“Uh, can I try Cherries Jubilee next?” He asked hesitantly. 

Steve exhaled slowly through his nose. “No, you’re done. Out.”

The kid rolled his eyes, swore under his breath, and stomped out of Scoops Ahoy. 

Robin was staring at him funny when he turned around, a mix of curiosity and amusement. “You’re totally PMSing today.”

He couldn’t manage more than a scowl in response. “Shut up.”

Robin laughed and tossed a cherry at him, which he managed to catch before it splattered against the glass of the ice cream case. He hated maraschino cherries— the artificial sweetness and unnatural color. But, hey, he could tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue.

He hadn’t called you for three days, which felt like the longest stretch of time in his life. And he hadn’t even seen you around Starcourt, which was both a good thing and absolutely unbearable. 

Part of him wanted to just jump on the escalator and see if you were sitting behind the counter at Waldenbooks, but he knew it was better to just have a clean break. Maybe in a few months, you’d forget about that Steve guy who’d called you and he could make his move then.

The shift change hit around lunchtime, and Steve prepared for the influx of people who were getting off work on empty stomachs. As he suspected, the line stretched out the door and he was practically up to his elbows in ice cream, mindlessly scooping flavor combinations that should’ve been illegal. Until—

“Hey, Steve,” you said, standing in front of him in your ugly work polo with messy hair half-fallen out of your ponytail. “Staying busy?”

He stammered nervously and mumbled out an unintelligible response. “Ice cream?” Was all that he could manage to ask, which made him want to throw himself into the fountain right in the middle of the food court. 

But you just smiled. “A shake, actually. Chocolate banana if that’s possible.” He nodded and got to work, thankful for the distraction. Your eyes followed his every movement as he made your shake, but he couldn’t let himself look at you.

Because if he did really look at you, all he’d be able to think about were the phone calls you’d had— the calls where he’d heard you cum with breathy gasps and pants and soft whimpers. And— Jesus Christ— he was thinking about it and it made him feel dizzy. 

He used a little bit too much whipped cream and put rainbow sprinkles on top for God knows why, but he handed it to you with a weak smile. 

“Three bucks, right?” You asked, nodding to the menu.

“Uh, you can just have it,” he said without even thinking. “On the house.”

You furrowed your brows for a moment,  but smiled brightly. “Really? Thanks, Steve. I appreciate it.” You took a sip and gave a soft moan at the flavor that made a full-body chill run through him. “See you around?”

“Yeah. See you.” You gave a small wave before you disappeared into the food court. He watched you the whole way, like you were the only person in the room.

Fuck. He was hard. Like, rock hard and the stupid apron on the uniform only made it more obvious. He’d fucking pavloved himself to get turned on just by your voice. 

“Robin, I’m taking my fifteen,” he said, darting into the back before she could protest. He stepped inside the walk-in freezer and propped the door with a crate of waffle cones. After about five minutes, he felt like he could actually think again.

“Fuck,” He muttered under his breath. He had to call you again.

You were sincerely considering quitting the hotline. After Steve, just listening to the other guys panting and blowing their loads on the phone was nauseating. They didn’t care to learn more about you, not the way he did. They just wanted to get their rocks off to an anonymous, sexy voice. 

Then again, Steve had disappeared too. Maybe giving him your real number had crossed a line. Maybe it freaked him out that you were taking it beyond a transaction. You sighed and wrapped yourself tighter in your house coat. Rhonda always kept the AC on overdrive in the summer, which meant you needed at least two blankets to be comfortable. 

When the phone rang, you picked it up without thinking, half expecting it to be Rhonda calling you to check in during her break. 

“Hey,” you said absentmindedly, leaning back against your pillows. 

“This is, uh— this is the right number, right? It’s Steve.”

Your heart nearly burst out of your chest at the sound of his voice. “Hey, yeah, it’s the right number,” you assured. You wriggled out of your housecoat and tossed it to the side so you could get more comfortable. “How are you? It’s been a few days.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I, uh,” he paused. “I think I psyched myself out of calling you.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “Well, I’m glad you did call. I really missed you.”

“You did?”

You laughed, letting yourself get more comfortable. “Mhmm,” you replied. “I mean, we’ve been talking everyday for a while, you know?”

“I missed you too, couldn’t stop thinking about you, even at work.” You smiled, remembering how absentminded he had seemed when you showed up in the ice cream parlor. And he was thinking about you. Not you, but still you. “I— uh— had to walk into our deep freezer to cool myself off.”

“How long has it been for you?” You asked suddenly. “Like, since you’ve had sex.”

Steve chuckled nervously. “I dunno… two months?” He paused. “Is that lame?”

“Nuh-uh, baby,” you assured. “Think it’s sweet. No wonder you’re all needy all the time. You need a nice, tight, wet pussy to sink into, hm?”

A low moan escaped his lips. “God—“

“Better than your hand, isn’t it?” You teased. “I bet you’re so desperate that you’ve been touching yourself this whole time, even before you called me. Isn’t that right?”

The closest thing you got in response was another pretty moan. “You’re big too, aren’t you?” You mused aloud, not even waiting for a response. “I know you are, you’ve basically told me in not so many words. Most girls can’t handle that, baby. It’s not your fault. That’s okay, we could take it slow, you could get me all nice and stretched for you, take your time like the gentleman you are.”

“Fuck— fuck—“ His words came out choked and desperate. You could almost picture it— the way he’d be fucking up into his hand, needing more and more.

“I bet you always have to take it real slow, huh? Gotta be careful so you don’t hurt someone. But that just means you can feel everything better, doesn’t it? Inch by inch by inch, every flutter and squeeze. And you can see on their faces how good it feels, can’t you? You can watch their eyes roll back and their mouths fall open while they cry out for you. I mean, Jesus, Steve, I bet most girls come before you’re even all the way inside.”

His hand sped up, desperate and needy, just as you’d said. You could hear it with each wet slap of skin against skin. His moans were constant, a stream of yesahgodfuckohshitahyesahfuckfuckfuck— until the prettiest moan escaped his lips, all low and deep, and you knew he’d made a pretty mess of himself. 

“Bet that felt really nice,” you said while he panted on the other end of the line. 

He made a weak noise, then finally managed a, “Uh-huh. Fuck.”

You laughed softly. “That’s gotta be the fastest I’ve gotten you off,” you said finally. “I like having that much power over you. It turns me on so much.”

He groaned. “Fuck, give me five— no— ten minutes. I can barely breathe right now.”

You grinned, relishing in your ability to torture him a bit after he’d teased you at work. Unknowingly, of course, but still. “I dunno if I can wait that long, Steve… I’m so wet that my thighs are all sticky.”

“God, you’re killing me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatics. “Why don’t you lay there and listen to me? Be good and keep your hands off, alright? You already came, so don’t get greedy.”

He made a nearly pained noise. “Fine. Fine.”

A smirk spread across your lips as you let your hand move between your thighs. Really, you weren’t exaggerating that much— you found yourself slick and needy when you finally slid your panties down your thighs. Actually, you thought you’d probably have to be a statue to hear Steve Harrington panting and cumming over the phone and stay unaffected.

You could hear his breath catch with every soft moan and whimper, and maybe you got mean and held the phone near your tummy, so he could hear just how wet and messy you’d gotten as you steadily fucked yourself with your fingers. When you got desperate enough, you held the phone against your ear once more. 

“I dunno, Steve… I don’t think my fingers can cut it,” you said, exaggerating the pouty tone of your voice. “I wish you were here to take care of me.”

He groaned, low and muffled. You had a feeling he’d thrown an arm over his face. “You’re so unfair.”

A smile spread across your lips at his words. “No, baby. What’s unfair is that I’m laying here all alone, feeling so empty and needy, and you’re not here to make it all better.” You reached into your nightstand, pulling out the dildo you’d bought for your twentieth birthday. “‘S okay, I can take care of myself just fine. You ever been to a sex shop?”

It got quiet on the line, and you could nearly hear the gears turning. 

“N-no.”

You raised a brow. “Really? But you know what they sell, don’t you?” You paused until he hummed a soft uh-huh. “It’s only fair that I get to use a toy to fill myself up since you can’t do it for me, right?”

“Y-yeah, wanna hear you do it.”

You grinned. “Patience, baby. Gotta get it wet first so it glides in nice and easy.”

Blowing a rubber dick wasn’t how you’d envisioned ending your day, but— what can you say?— spontaneity is the spice of life. You made sure he heard every wet pass of it between your lips, every exaggerated gag as you took it into your throat, the messy smack of your lips. It tasted like a tire and dish soap, but the desperate, restrained sounds he was making made it all worth it. 

Your eyes were watery when you finally pulled the toy from your mouth, certain you’d adequately worked him up for the time being. Plus, you were worked up just as much, if not more— you wanted to just fuck yourself into oblivion already. 

Instinctively, your thighs fell farther apart as you moved the toy between your legs. You let the tip tease your entrance, only a little, before you began to push it inside. A soft moan fell from your lips as you finally got the nice, full feeling you’d been dreaming of. 

You laid there for a moment, letting your body adjust to it, reveling in it. With your free hand, you slowly circled your clit until your cunt fluttered around the intrusion. 

“Feels so nice,” you sighed, lips brushing against the mouthpiece of the phone. You felt drunk and hazy with desire. “Like I’m so close already that I can taste it.”

“Make yourself come for me,” he practically begged. “Wanna hear it.”

You moaned at his words, but shook your head. “Can’t yet. I wanna make this last.”

Time felt a little hazy as you kept working the toy in and out, slow and deep. Occasionally, you’d brush against your clit just right, or the toy would find a nice spot inside of you, and your entire body would tremble with need. 

Steve’s breath came in pants over the phone, but you couldn’t tell if he had broken and actually started to touch himself. You kind of hoped he did, even if you wouldn’t say it. 

Eventually, you came without warning— the build-up of it all made it impossible to avoid. Once you started over that edge, you couldn’t crawl back even if you’d wanted to. Moans fell from your lips as you succumbed to your orgasm; every nerve was like a live wire. When it finally came to be too much, you slipped the toy out and relaxed onto your bed with a contented sigh. 

“Are you still alive?” You asked, quiet crackling over the phone. 

“Uh… yeah,” he replied, a little distracted. “Have you ever come without having to touch yourself?”

You laughed softly. “Once. I read in Cosmo that some girls can get off just from playing with their tits. Took a while, but I eventually got there. Why?”

“I just, uh… listening to you, all the noises and hearing how wet you were… I guess that was all it took.” He sounded so embarrassed, but it was the cutest fucking thing you’d ever heard. You could imagine it so clearly, his cock pulsing against his twitching stomach, cum making puddles around his navel. 

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” you said with a smile. “You’re probably exhausted, huh?”

He laughed a bit. “A little, but I can stay up and talk, if you’re free.”

Ever the gentleman, Steve stayed up another hour to talk about whatever you could think of to keep the conversation running. The new collection at The Gap, whether or not he planned to see Back to the Future, his favorite music got him talking for half an hour at least. Finally, you were yawning and beat. 

“Steve, baby, I should go to sleep,” you said, almost apologetically. 

“That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You froze, brows furrowing. “What?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeated, sleepily. “At the mall.”

“Um… night,” you said quickly, panicking slightly as you hung up the phone.

Steve had mopped the same spot on the floor five times during his shift, all while sparing fleeting glances towards Waldenbooks, where you were immersed in a magazine or a book. Always doing anything but looking down at him. 

Which was good… maybe? He couldn’t quite decide.

He hadn’t been thinking when he said that on the phone. But he was sleepy, and his brain was a little foggy, and then he’d gone and doubled down. 

As soon as he hung up the phone, he remembered that he had given his real name, and you knew he worked in food service, and you knew he wore a stupid uniform. That narrowed it down really easily. 

So he spent his shift in a constant state of dread and panic, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

By the time the mall was closing, he had occupied himself with wiping down tables. He let Robin head home and pulled out his Walkman to keep him company. Since working at Starcourt, he made a pretty sick collection of tapes that wound up in the lost and found. This one was a metal mix, which typically wasn’t his thing, but was growing on him. 

He didn’t realize you were standing over him until you rapped twice on the table, drawing his eyes up, up, up until they were locked with yours. He scrambled to pause the tape and stand up, adjusting his stupid uniform as an embarrassed blush grew on his cheeks. 

“Hi,” you greeted. Your Waldenbooks vest hung loosely on your form, right on top of a pink polo. 

“Hi,” he echoed. It was quiet for a second, as he tried to think of what to say, and as you scrambled for the words you’d been practicing all day. “I’ve known it was you for a while.” The words escaped him before he could stop himself, and then he just stared at you, completely mortified. 

You laughed, covering your face for a moment as heat flooded your cheeks. “You knew? I didn’t even— I mean, I didn’t realize. Because I knew it was you calling. For a while, actually. 

He grinned, leaning forward. “So… the guy you said you wanted to… against the shelves…?” When you ducked your head and looked away, he smiled like the cat who got the cream. “No way. You were totally perving on me, even before!”

“You had to walk into a deep freezer to cool off because you were thinking about me, perv.” He laughed, and you wanted to kiss him so badly it freaked you out a little. “So… What do we do now? I mean, now that you know who I am, and I know who you are, and we’re going to keep running into each other.”

Your poor cuticles were going through the wringer— red and stinging where you picked at them due to nerves. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to just sweep you into his arms like some kind of fairytale and promise his undying devotion. Or just say he wanted to date you. Whichever.

“I could take you on a date,” he said sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. “I mean, if your type is total pervs who spend most of the week in sailor uniforms.”

Oh, you had plans for that sailor uniform. You stepped forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I think you just might be in luck.” He turned his head, just slightly, so he could capture your mouth with his. 

The kiss was sweet, at first. Slow brushes of his lips against yours. They tasted sweet, like he’d been wearing lip smackers or something. Or maybe he’d been sneaking samples of the ice cream. He pulled you closer and you gasped, offering him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moaned softly at the feeling of your tongue licking against his. 

He picked you up easily, sitting you down on the table he should’ve been cleaning. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his neck. It was easy to lose yourself in the hungry, desperate way Steve kissed. You could’ve stayed right there in the middle of Scoops making out with him until the mall opened in the morning, and still not have found the motivation to stop. 

A bright light startled you back into reality, shining directly in your faces. You and Steve squinted in the general direction, as Starcourt security stomped your way. 

“Hey! Get the fuck home,” He shouted, with equal amounts of exasperation and annoyance. He clicked off the flashlight and walked away with a huff and an eye roll, leaving you and Steve alone.

Steve’s cheeks were flushed pink with embarrassment as he stepped back, but he still wore a dopey grin on his lips. You hopped off the table and adjusted your skirt with a light laugh. 

“That was nice,” You said as you tucked a loose curl behind your ear. “I should leave you to it, I guess. Before we both end up in mall jail.” 

He shook his head quickly. “No! I mean, you could hang out here until I’m done. I just have a few more tables to clean and chairs to stack, if you want to—” He trailed off, looking at you expectantly. 

A sly grin spread across your features. “What? Are you trying to go home with me or something?” He stammered nervously, that same, cute blush growing on his cheeks. Before he could say anything, you took a step closer and peered up at him. “Because if you are, I might tell you that my roommate works nights at Hawkins General, and we’d have it conveniently all to ourselves.”

He swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do.”

You sat in the booth nearest to the entrance of the parlor, flipping through a magazine you’d grabbed from work. Occasionally, you’d sneak tiny peeks of Steve bent over a table to wipe it down, uniform stretched tight over his ass, and grin behind the pages. 

He got everything locked up in what he claimed was record time, flashing a smile as he closed up shop behind the two of you.

”Do you work tomorrow?” You asked, as casually as possible as the two of you approached your cars in the employee lot. 

“Yep. Afternoon shift,” he explained.

“I’ll drive you. We’ll carpool tonight.”

The car ride was relatively tame, a few stolen glances at stoplights at most. When you brought him inside the house, your phone was ringing off the hook. You apologized and ushered him into your room, where, true enough, the spare phone you used for the hotline was ringing nonstop. 

“Sorry, let me just…” You grabbed the phone and hung it up once, before taking it off the receiver completely. “There. No interruptions.”

Steve grinned, surveying your room carefully. The set of pom-poms from high school on a shelf, a stack of Cosmopolitan magazines, the chair full of your laundry— fuck, you should’ve definitely taken a moment to speed clean before letting him inside. 

“So… what do you say we pick up where we left off?” You stood on your tiptoes and pecked his lips chastely before guiding him towards your bed. As soon as he sat down, you wasted no time in crawling into his lap and kissing him with all of the pent-up frustration of weeks of phone calls. 

You kissed him for so long you’d have to come up panting for air, before diving right back in. His hands— Jesus, you’d never noticed how big his hands were— were splayed out over your hips at first, but had moved down to grab your ass, encouraging each movement as you rocked against him. 

Without breaking the kiss, you shrugged off your work vest, so it fell into a heap over the side of your bed. He pulled back, chest heaving slightly as he caught his breath. His lips were swollen from use and spit-slick. His eyes moved from the vest on the ground, then back to your eyes. A tiny laugh escaped you before you pulled off your top, then your bra. 

“This still okay?” You asked, as you stood briefly and tugged down your denim skirt. The sound of your voice felt almost foreign in the quiet room, while he took in the sight of you in nothing but a pair of panties.

“God, more than okay,” he assured, before pulling you onto his lap for another heated kiss. This kiss was needier— you could feel it in the hungry way he licked into your mouth, and the feel of him hard beneath you. Tiny gasps pushed past your lips as you rocked against him just right. 

He moved his hands from you only to pull off his work shirt, and the white shirt he wore beneath it. Your hands immediately went to his chest, running through the chest hair he’d hidden beneath the uniform. How the fuck did he manage to walk out of his house without being immediately pounced on by every woman in a five-mile radius?

 He placed one final kiss on your lips before pulling back and meeting your gaze. As earnestly as you’d ever, he asked, “Can I go down on you?”

Yes. Fuck, yes. Oh my god, yes. “Sure, if you want to.”

He smiled wide. “Yeah? Just relax for me, alright?” He shifted the two of you, so you were lying on the bed and he was on top of you. He planted a chaste peck on your nose, and you wrinkled it in reaction. 

You kissed him one, fleetingly, before letting him kiss down your chest and tummy. He parted your thighs and carefully positioned himself between them. You met his gaze and felt your stomach somersault. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the damp fabric of your panties.,

“Fuck,” he mumbled against you. “You’re soaking for me, huh?” And there was that cocky grin you’d seen at the mall before. You had to lie back and put a hand over your eyes, because if you thought about that fucking smug expression for too long, you’d cum untouched. 

He ran his tongue over the fabric of your panties, tasting you through the saturated satin once, twice before he pulled them down your legs. And he fucking moaned like a man starved at the sight of you. 

Heat burned in your cheeks as you felt him spreading you open, and at the slick, wet sounds of your own arousal. “You’re so pretty.” And then his tongue was on you, lapping up your juices, savoring all of you. 

“O-oh, fuck—“ Your moan came out like a sob as his nose brushed against your clit, making your thighs tremble. He moaned against your cunt, nuzzling deeper like he couldn’t get enough. 

In retrospect, he had brought up how much he loved eating pussy a lot on that first call. Your hips bucked slightly, torn between chasing the feeling and overstimulation. His lips would wrap around your clit and suck softly before he would go back to lapping at you, his tongue parting your folds and teasing your entrance. 

“St-Steve!” You cried out, fingers tangling in his hair. The slightest tug on his locks made him moan against you, which made your toes curl. 

Your moans became pitchy and breathless as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. All of your muscles were wound up tight, itching for release. 

All it took was a little bit of eye contact and you were done for. You sobbed out a moan as he lapped up your release— each lap of his tongue sending electricity up your nerves. When he finally relented, you were shaking with aftershocks and giggling. 

“Something funny?” He asked with a grin as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You sighed and spared a glance over at him. “I’ve been dreaming of that happening since our first call.” He grinned as you pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. 

“Did it meet your expectations?” He asked, swallowing nervously as you shifted to accommodate your hand between the two of you. His eyes fluttered shut as your hand slipped beneath his work shorts and boxers to grasp his cock in your hand. 

You gave a slow, experimental stroke of your hand and nodded. “Two thumbs up.”

He swallowed hard as you removed your hand to completely undress him, leaving you both completely naked. You spit into your hand and wrapped it back around his length, holding eye contact as you jerked him off.

There was something so surreal about the entire situation— having him beneath you, warm and pulsing and slick in your hand. Each time your thumb brushed along the head of his cock, he cried out with the prettiest moan.

“W-wait—“ he said quickly, a look of panic in his eyes. You stilled your hand as he looked at you, a pretty blush painting his cheeks. “I’m not gonna last.”

You bit your to keep from grinning like an idiot. “That’s okay,” you said with a smile. You reached into your bedside table and retrieved a condom. “Do you want to, uh, go all the way?” 

He nodded quickly. “Yes. Yes, please.”

You tore open the packet and rolled the condom on. “How’s that feel? Alright?” He gave a dorky thumbs up, which made you laugh. You leaned down to kiss him once more and wondered if you’d ever get tired of that feeling. 

You reached between the two of you and guided his tip through your folds, coating it in your arousal until you grew too needy and lined him up with your entrance. It was a stretch, even though he’d gotten you plenty worked up with his mouth. You sank down slowly, one hand splayed against his chest to keep you steady as you took in inch after inch. 

The sounds that escaped him as you lowered yourself onto him were so pornographic you thought he should be the one working the hotline instead. Desperate panting moans slipped past his full lips as his hands clawed at your hips.

“Fuck,” he moaned, eyes half-lidded as he watched you. “That’s it. You can take it.”

The mouth on him. You moaned softly as you finally settled onto his lap and he was fully sheathed within you. You stayed still, letting your body adjust to and relish in how full you felt. 

“You look so pretty right now,” he said, reaching up to brush a messy hair from your face. You laughed softly as your cheeks warmed, and a funny fluttering in your chest nearly stole your breath.

“Says you,” was all you could manage to say back. You were hyper-aware of the feeling of him within you, of each flutter of your walls around him.

You gave an experimental roll of your hips and his head fell back, against the pillows, exposing the column of his throat. You relished in the way he looked beneath you— debauched and needy. 

It was easy and slow at first. Each time you moved, you would lower yourself back down slowly, letting him savor the feeling of you, warm and wet and needy. He groaned each time you settled back on his lap, eyes hooded with lust as he looked up at you.

You gave a lazy smile as you looked down at him, moaning each time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Can I go a little faster?”

He nodded, eager for whatever you could give him. Your nails raked against his chest as you began to ride him in earnest, the back of your thighs slapping against his as you bounced on his cock. 

Your head fell back as you rubbed at your clit with your free hand. Soft moans spilled from your lips as you relished in the culmination of all of your fantasies. Because he was there, splayed out beneath you like a fucking pornstar, and you had him all to yourself. 

His fingers dug into the plush of your hips as he began meeting your thrusts halfway, fucking into the heaven between your thighs. 

Your eyes rolled back as he fucked himself deeper and deeper, stealing your breath with each thrust. “Close,” you practically squeaked out. Red marks stood out against the freckles skin of his chest where you searched desperately for purchase. 

Steve’s hair was stuck to his forehead, tacky from exertion. “Need you to cum for me,” he managed between pretty moans. “Wanna feel you cumming around me.”

You whimpered at his words, riding him harder as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave. A fucked-out moan escaped you as you collapsed against his chest, hips weakly stuttering as Steve continued fucking up into you. With your pussy gripping him like a vise, he could only manage a few good thrusts before he came with a groan. 

You laid there on top of him as you caught your breath, wearing a stupid, giddy smile as he traced mindless shapes onto your back. His face was buried in your neck, where he left sweet, wet kisses. After a while, you slid off of him and sighed, missing the way it felt when he was still buried inside of you. You did your best to clean yourself off with the towel hanging from your bedpost as Steve tied off the condom and tossed it in the bin. 

“We’re not just…” Steve began once you were both comfortable in your bed. He let the words linger for a moment before he shook his head. “Never mind.”

You turned on your side to face him, adjusting your blankets for a bit of modesty. “We’re not just fucking? That’s what you’re asking, right?” He nodded quietly. “It was nice, but no, that’s not all I want.”

He grinned. “Yeah? You wanna be my girlfriend? I totally pulled a cougar.” His stupid grin made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t keep a matching smile off of yours. 

“You’re so annoying,” you said, not giving him a second to react before your lips were on his again. You pulled back and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. 

In the morning, you woke up in his arms as sunlight crept through the window. You squinted at the sun, then back at him. “Still want me to drive you to work?”

“No way,” he said, muffled against the column of your throat. Soft kisses peppered against your skin, making you giggle and arch into him. “I’m calling in.”

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

thanks to everyone who liked the first part, i appreciate y'all🥰

Summary: You and Osferth are in love, but neither of you know the feelings are reciprocated.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), heavy angst, idiots in love (emphasis on idiots), Osferth being a manwhore and insecure (and Finan being his wingman), canon divergence (baby monk will NOT die), whump, PTSD references, hurt/comfort, fluff (promise), fingering, oral (f!receiving), and cockwarming (if you squint)

word count | 6.2k🤙🏻

part 1 | part 2

It had been a long, long time since Osferth rescued you.

Months had passed, a year almost having gone by, your past soon becoming somewhat of a distant memory. With the help and support of your newfound friends, you were able to live life to the fullest. Of course, you still had moments when you were back in that horrid little village, but your mind slowly started to figure out that you weren’t in constant danger anymore.

Due to Uhtred’s decisions that you couldn’t really understand, you all had moved on from Coccham, traveling north to Rumcofa where it was always cold. It wasn’t all that bad, you did prefer the cold to the blazing heat when all you could do was strip down, and even that wouldn’t be enough. So the cold was a nice change.

You finally had your own little house, in a more secluded part of this new town, which you appreciated but was fearful of all the same. A part of you, a big part actually, just wanted to stay with Osferth.

It was soon after your realization that you were in love with Osferth, is when he inexplicably started to pull away.

You didn’t understand it. Based on his interactions with you, you thought he might’ve felt the same. He started to spend less and less time with you, opting that beginning to train with Finan again was better for you, considering your swift progress with the sword. And Finan had forgiven you pretty quickly after your accidental outburst, finding out that he was more understanding than you originally thought. But you wanted Osferth to train you. You wanted his smiles of pride, not Finan’s. You wanted his hands on your body when having to demonstrate the correct combat posture. You just wanted Osferth.

The night you watched Osferth enter his own house with a lady on his arm, your heart broke into pieces.

All this time you had been hopeful he’d see you the way you see him, but seeing this display just confirmed your fears. And the worst of it was, that you were still in love with him. Even when he never made for you, even if he ignored you sometimes, even if he preferred the company of ladies with loose morals, you were still helplessly in love with him.

It was inevitable, but your mind started to go to the darkest places. Did he never see you this way? Did he find you undesirable? Was it because of your past? Did the things that were done to you make him disgusted? Has he ever seen you as whole?

You thought back to the night he gave you his cross, fiddling with the silver absentmindedly. He used to always wear the cross, why would he give something so special to you if you weren’t in fact, special to him. So, what changed? Why was he never around anymore? Did you do something to make him this way? And if so, what could you do to earn his forgiveness?

It’s not like you could’ve known why Osferth retreated from you. He didn’t really understand it himself. The two of you were…perfect. You were so incredibly important to him. He loved you, that much was true. That’s why he couldn’t burden you with the knowledge of how incredibly difficult it was for Osferth to be around you without desiring you. Carnally.

It felt like all his thoughts, night and day, were about you. How you’d look beneath him, what sounds he could elicit from you with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He hated feeling this way. He hated that he felt no better than your former master, using you for his own pleasure whether you agreed or not. Of course, Osferth wasn’t actually doing these horrible things. But he thought of you, especially in the throws of his ecstasy, whether it was by his own hand or a woman of the night’s cunny. He was ashamed how often he needed to bed a woman, just to be rid of the aching feeling inside him whenever he gazed upon you.

Osferth could tell how confused and hurt you were by his actions, his arms becoming a safe haven of sorts. But he didn’t know if he could control his thoughts or actions in your presence, which is why he removed himself all together.

Osferth often thought what would happen if he came onto you like he’s so craved. He couldn’t possibly imagine you reciprocating his affections, so he thought of the worst case scenarios. You scream and cry, pushing him away and saying you never wanted to see him again. He thought of you being terrified to be anywhere near him. He thought of you seeing him as no better than her former master, and the idea often brought him to tears. So he decided, he’d rather you feel betrayed than scared by him. You could hate him, but he would rather die than have you scared of him.

So he continued to bed other women, pleading out your name when he reached his end, much to the dismay of these women. It wasn’t like he was doing this to hurt you, it was quite the opposite, he didn’t even realize he was hurting you until Finan talked to him one night. “You know she’s in love with you, right?”

Osferth blanched, his eyes widening at the mere idea that you could feel the same way about him. “What are you on about, Finan?” He asked, trying to make sure he heard him correctly.

“You’re mad if you can’t see it, mate. She’s obsessed with you, much like you’re obsessed with her. Can’t believe you’re still dancing around each other.”

Osferth blushed, much to the enjoyment of Finan. “I’m not…obsessed.” He almost laughed at himself with how clearly that was a lie.

“Thou shalt not lie, baby monk.” Finan teased, eliciting an eye roll from the younger man. “I don’t know what you’re so afraid of. Clearly, it can’t be rejection.”

“I don’t want her to be frightened of me.” Osferth admitted, making Finan furrow his brows.

“Why would she be frightened of ya?” He asked, concern etched into his features.

“Because I’m…I'm a sinful man, despite my best efforts. I’m so full of lust, it’s hard to even think.”

“You would force yourself on her?”

“No! Of course not! I’d sooner plunge my own sword into my heart.”

“And we know that. Everyone who knows you, knows that, baby monk. You’re scared of yourself for thoughts you can’t control. But you can control your actions. Just because you have bad thoughts doesn’t make you a bad person, especially if you’re appalled by these thoughts. Your mind just likes to fuck with ya.” Finan watched as Osferth pondered this, a pang of annoyance rippling through his body. “Talk to her tomorrow. If you don’t, I’ll kick your shins in.”

There wasn’t much room to argue after that.

The next morning, Osferth woke up with a sense of hopefulness, a shy smile decorating his face as he saw the run rise. His conversation with Finan really gave him some clarity, and he was terrified still, but he decided he didn’t want to live with regret. But first, he needed to gain your trust back and he just hoped you’d give him another chance.

Osferth fussed with his appearance for a moment before heading to your house, his pulse thrumming beneath his skin, his heart beating in tandem. He didn’t stop his pace, afraid if he slowed down he’d stop altogether. But when he saw you were already outside your house, sitting in a rocking chair reading a book, Osferth froze. He was always so stunned by your beauty, even doing the most mundane things like simply reading. God, he was so in love.

Osferth winced when a twig snapped beneath his feet, alerting you of his presence, watching as your head jerked up and made eye contact with him. “Osferth…” You whispered, barely audible but just enough for him to hear, and he swore his heart skipped a beat. The sound of your voice, it was like a weight lifted off his shoulders.

“My lady…” Osferth replied breathlessly, his voice wavering with emotion. “I was wondering if I could join you?”

“You want to read with me?” You asked in slight amusement, making him blush.

“I just meant, if you’d do me the honor of allowing me to be in your company?”

You frowned. “Why now, when you haven’t wanted my company for some time?”

Osferth took a cautious step towards you, continuing when you didn’t shy away, sitting on your porch at your feet, looking up at you with the most remorseful expression he could manage. “I’ll tell you everything, my lady. But first, I just wish to tell you my absence had nothing to do with you. I’ve been…dealing with my own troubles. But every day I’ve been away from you, my life has been awful. I’ve missed you…so, so much.”

Unwanted tears sprung to your eyes, the pure emotion in his voice making your heart swell. “I’ve missed you, Osferth.” You bit your lip when your voice wavered, but it only caused him to gently take ahold of your hand. He still sat by your feet, looking up at you like you strung up the moon and stars in the sky, practically resting his cheek against your knee, the sight eliciting an inappropriate thought to cross your mind.

“I wish to tell you much more. The most important thing I need to tell you is…” Osferth exhaled a shaky breath, “is that I’m in-”

Screams echoed sharply throughout the village, Finan calling Osferth’s name, interrupting his confession and causing the two of you to stand on high alert. “Osferth?” you asked, frightened.

“Take your sword and stay hidden, alright? Promise me.” Osferth spoke sternly, looking into your eyes with such intensity that you agreed without hesitancy, following his instructions to the best of your ability.

A group of soldiers waltzed into the town, looking like they were on a mission, their swords already drawn. It took naught but a few moments for a fight to break out, blades clashing together and fists being thrown. They were separating Danes from Christians, killing any Danes, men, women, and children. You couldn’t just stand there and watch, you had to do something.

You had been in very few fights, especially fights like these, but your morals gave you little choice. When you saw a soldier strike a child to the ground, about to push his blade into their little neck, you struck first. Blood dripped down your blade, onto your hands, as you pushed your sword into the back of the soldier, the sound of the flesh being pierced making you gag. But you saved the child, bringing them back to their parents before moving on to help the next resident of Rumcofa.

If Osferth had the time, he would have been pissed. He told you not to get involved, yet you were. But he couldn’t blame you for that, in fact, it was nice to have another helping hand. He was good at multitasking, he thought, fighting off two burly men while making sure you weren’t in danger. Osferth was lucky, it followed him around, to being able to join Uhtred and his men to finding you in this lifetime, he figured he was the luckiest man around. But a person’s luck has to run out sometime.

Osferth exhaled a sharp breath as an excruciating pain resonated through his body, his mouth filling with blood as he fell to the cold ground. He heard screams, your screams, and suddenly he wasn’t thinking about the pain.

You shrieked as you watched the brute of a man shove his blade into Osferth’s side, his form crumpling to the ground. Rage overwhelmed you, and you didn’t think as you charged forwards. You couldn’t know what you even planned on doing but it didn’t matter. You felt like you had been stabbed yourself and all that was on your mind was getting revenge. And despite all your training, and the few soldiers you managed to get the best off, your mind was in the worst place, going on pure adrenaline with no thought behind your attacks. It wasn’t that surprising when the man knocked you out, stealing the sword from your hands and hitting your temple with its pommel, plunging your world into darkness.

All Osferth could do was watch in a panic as you fought to defend him, calling out your name as the attacker knocked you down, your eyes rolling back as you stopped moving.

Finan was sprinting to Osferth, but he yelled at him to make sure you were okay first, your well being more important to him than anything. And after a few moments, Finan deemed you alright, getting his wife to look after you for now as he kneeled beside Osferth with tears in his eyes. As Osferth felt his best friend’s arms around him, his fear and panic washed over him, drowning him. “Oh my God, oh my God, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die!” He cried, holding on tightly to Finan.

“No, no, baby monk. You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay. I won’t let you die.” Finan sobbed, screaming for help.

Osferth whispered your name, gaining Finan’s attention back. “She’s okay?”

“Yes, yes, she’s alright.”

“Tell her,” He choked, “tell her how much I loved her. Tell her that she was the most important person in my life and that I’m sorry.”

“Tell her yourself, you daft prat. You’re gonna survive this, I promise.”

When you came to, your first thought and first word uttered was, “Osferth.”

The last thing you remembered was Osferth getting stabbed, and you running to his attacker to make sure he wasn’t stabbed again. Much use you were, you thought bitterly, you couldn’t even hold your own against this man for more than a minute. Pitiful. But that didn’t matter now, all that mattered was making sure he was alive.

You ignored all the pleas and urges from Finan’s wife and other healers taking care of you and rushed out of your room, trying to find your friends. Finally, your gaze met Finan’s, and he looked distraught. No, you thought, you wouldn’t believe it. But before you could even open your mouth to speak, Finance answered your silent question. “He’s alive…somehow.” The Irishman spoke in a broken voice, clearly just as affected as you were.

“Can I see him?”

Finan nodded solemnly. “He’s sleeping, and probably will be for a while, Ingrith tells me.”

As soon as you walked into the room, you had to hold in your gasp as you saw Osferth’s state. He was so pale, from blood loss and the cold, you’d think he was dead if you hadn’t been told otherwise. “When will he wake?”

“We don’t know…” He sighed, making your heart drop.

“But he will wake?”

“That’s our hope.”

But he didn’t wake, not for more than a few seconds at a time, muttering incoherent words before falling back asleep, not even when the surviving residents of Rumcofa had to relocate where it was more safe. You didn’t sleep, you didn’t eat; all your time was devoted to making sure Osferth’s heart was still beating, putting your ear to his chest multiple times every single day, praying to every god you could think of to just let him survive.

It was only a few days after settling in a more secure place that Osferth did finally awake. 

You were at his bedside, as you often were, reading to him and holding his hand, thinking that your voice might stir him. You almost fell off your chair in shock when you suddenly felt his hand weakly squeeze yours. Your head snapped up and saw that his eyes were already on you. “Osferth…” You called out softly, letting your book fall by the wayside to move to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. “You’re awake. At last.” Tears filled your eyes, falling down your cheeks and landing on his hand that you were now holding tightly, afraid that he’d fall back into unconsciousness.

Osferth spoke your name so softly, his voice cracking and hoarse from not using it for so long. “I must be dead, for I see only an angel before me…”

You chuckled tearfully, bringing up his hand to kiss his knuckles. “No, you’re alive. You’re alive.” You repeated, mostly trying to convince yourself.

“How long have I been asleep?” He asked, looking around the room he was in and furrowed his brows. “Where are we?”

You froze, unsure of how much you should say. You didn’t want him to faint from shock, but you couldn't lie to him either. You could never lie to him. “We left Rumcofa several days ago, everyone who survived the attack. But Uhtred is off to fight another war for Edward. They all wanted to stay until you woke, but…”

Osferth nodded solemnly. “What use would a man on the brink of death be, yeah?”

“They’ll be mad with joy to hear of your recovery, I’m sure. Especially Finan, he wept for you badly.”

“And did you? Weep for me?”

Your face flushed with heat, avoiding his gaze and instead fixing your eyes on your conjoined hands. “Yes…” You whispered. “I’ve wept every day since you were wounded. But you’re better now, awake and healing up nicely. Ingrith told me you might wake as soon as the fever leaves your body,” You placed the back of your other hand to his forehead, warm but not too warm, “and you feel fine now. Before, your skin was hot to the touch-” Osferth grabbed your wrist as you moved to pull away, eliciting a gasp from you. “O-Osferth?”

Osferth blinked, as if he suddenly realized what he was doing. “Sorry.” He stuttered, releasing your wrist.

“I’ll go get Ingrith.”

“No! No…please, just…I’d like to be alone with you for a moment longer. If that’s alright, my lady?”

You nodded, a bit too eagerly. “Of course. I’d love nothing more.”

And stay with him you did, up until you insisted you tell Ingrith and had her check on him. The wound was healing nicely, a deep red scar forming over the stab. It really was a miracle that he was alive, the blade barely missing the vital organs the body needs to function. You don’t know what you would've done if Osferth had died, the thought making your chest tighten uncomfortably, panic overriding your senses. But all you had to do to rid yourself of those feelings, was to simply look at Osferth, gaining his strength back more and more every day and starting to walk without help. 

Almost two weeks went by until he started to train again, though very carefully. Seeing grow stronger didn’t help ease your nerves as much as you thought it would, you figured you’d keep him on bed rest forever if you had any say. It took Ingrith assuring you that he was practically fully healed for you to stop fretting over him like a concerned mother. But Osferth didn’t seem to mind it all that much, a soft amused smile gracing his features every time you asked if he was alright. His answer was always yes, and he even told you not to worry so much, trying to come across as nonchalant so it didn’t seem like he was completely affected by your concern.

Osferth never did get a chance to confess to you that day, the fight in Rumcofa having such unfortunate timing. Though, you never brought it up, the fact almost making his insecurities come back and suffocate him. But he trusted Finan, and even though he was an occasional prankster, he’d never try to give someone false hope.

Osferth tossed and turned one night, thinking about you and his suspended confession. It’s ridiculous, why couldn’t he have gotten the words out quicker, rather than prolong those simple words. He said it to you every day in his mind, the words coming out so easily and repeatedly. Ridiculous. This was ridiculous.

As soon as the thought appeared in his mind, Osferth jumped up from bed. He knew it was entirely inappropriate, thinking about coming to you in the middle of the night, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he told you how he felt. And to his utter surprise, when he opened his front door, there you were. 

It was raining, the droplets of water pelting the roof of the timber home, the occasional thunder rumble making the frames vibrate. And there you were, a wet and shivering figure, your clothes melding to you like a second skin; Osferth could see your breath coming out in quick and shallow puffs. Even in the dark with naught but a lantern that he lit to light his way, he could see the tears in your eyes, only a keen eye would’ve been able to differentiate the rain from the tear drops. His face immediately fell in concern, and it only took him calling out your name softly for you to collapse in his arms.

Osferth quickly pulled you past the threshold of the doorframe, bringing you in from the cold and holding you tightly to him, the uncomfortable feeling of his dampening clothes the furthest thing from his mind. “My lady?” He spoke gently, like he was trying not to spook you, “What’s happened?” You mumbled words incoherently, your face pressed against his chest muffling what you were attempting to say. Osferth had to pull you off, not completely, just to look at your face. “What was that?”

“You were dead.” You cried, “You were killed and I couldn’t do anything but stand there and watch!”

“A dream…” He realized, sighing in sympathy and pulling you back onto his chest. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay. Here-” He took a hold of your hand, pressing the tips of your fingers to the pulse point in his neck, the blood flowing through his veins, the throbbing pushing at your fingertips minutely. “Do you feel? And you hear by heartbeat?”

“Mhm.” You sniffled, starting to calm down in the soothing cage of his arms.

“See? I’m okay. I’m not hurt anymore. I’m safe. We both are.”

“I’m sorry…” You hiccupped.

Osferth shook his head, cupping your jaw gently and forcing your eyes to his. “Hey, none of that. It’s not your fault. Understand me?” Reluctantly, you shook your head, wiping away your tears with your already damp hands. And you shivered, your body suddenly registering the cold. “Let’s get you warm, okay?”

And in a matter of minutes, Osferth had lit a fire in his hearth, the flames roaring to life and eliciting a sigh of relief from you as you saw in front of it on a pile of wool blankets he’d spread out for the two of you. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, Osferth, truly. It’s just…when my mind showed me such a vivid thing-”

“I understand completely, my lady. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same in your place. Besides,” Osferth grunted softly as he plopped himself down beside you, your knees barely touching, “I was about to come see you myself.”

You furrowed your brows. “Why?” And suddenly, Osferth was that same scared boy he was before he met Uhtred. He hadn’t meant to be so brazen, but he wanted to ease your mind so badly, he didn’t think you’d ever ask why.

“Uh, um,” Osferth swallowed thickly, his body becoming much too warm for his liking, “just wanted to check on ya, is all.” Liar.

“Oh…” You seemed to say in an almost disappointed tone.

Osferth sighed. Ridiculous.

“Actually,” He almost winced, his body, one thinking this was a good idea, was suddenly betraying him. No, he thought, he wouldn’t repress his feelings any longer. “Do you remember our conversation before the fight in Rumcofa?”

Your face flushed with heat, an achy feeling spreading in your heart. “You said you missed me.” You smiled softly at the memory, but your brows furrowed. “But you were trying to tell me something else, weren’t you?” Osferth nodded nervously, running his hands up and down his thighs, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. You playfully bumped his shoulder with your own, “Well?”

“I’minlovewithyou-” He gasped.

“What?” You almost squawked, his words jumbled and rushed, making entirely no sense to your ears.

But suddenly, Osferth grinned, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. He said it, finally. That’s all it took really, just to get it out there to make it more easy to say. Sure, it wasn’t the best way to go about it, but he did it. “I’m in love with you.” And this time, he didn’t rush. In fact, it was the most clear and precise you had ever heard him. He took his time saying the words this time, savoring them, just in case it was the last time he could.

“You’re…in love with me?” You were looking up at him with wide eyes, an adorable childlike awe displaying in your expression.

“Yes.” He smiled. “Completely and hopelessly. I…have been, for a while now. I wanted to tell you sooner but, ya know.” He gestured to his stab wound. You felt breathless, your throat constricting as you tried to fight back another bout of tears. But Osferth took it the wrong way. “I’m so sorry, my lady. I knew there was a high chance you’d be completely repulsed. That’s why I tried to stay away for so long because I didn’t want you scared of me like-”

“Osferth.” Responding to his name and your touch to his jaw, turning him to face you, he didn’t see one trace of disgust or fear in your eyes. “I could never be repulsed by you, or scared. Why would you ever think that?”

Osferth blushed a bright red, the flames from the hearth making his skin look an even darker red. “Since I’ve decided to be so honest tonight…you should know I also yearn for you, my lady. Your…touch. But I also want you to know it’s because I love you, not because I’m some…lecherous sinner. Although, I suppose I am that too.”

“Why would you think I’d be repulsed because you desire me so?”

“Well, because…because…uh.”

You closed your eyes in understanding, nodding slightly. “If you think I’d ever be able to compare you, sweet boy, to that monster, you’re sorely mistaken. You are nothing like him. Do you really think I would’ve kept close to you if you had been?”

“I suppose not. I just never wanted you to feel like I’m pressuring you into something you don’t want…”

“And that, my dear Osferth, is why I’m completely and hopelessly in love with you too.”

Osferth’s eyes widened. “R-Really?”

You smirked. “Shall I prove it to you?” You’ve never really kissed or been kissed, willingly at least, so as you leaned forward, you prayed that Osferth wouldn’t laugh as you softly pressed your lips against his. 

It was unlike anything you had ever experienced, the aspect of your choice in the matter only amplifying the sensation. And for Osferth? It was hard to keep in the whimper that was so desperate to escape him, but you pulled away, all too soon. You opened your eyes to see Osferth’s was still closed, his lips chasing yours with a blissed out expression on his face. He whispered out your name so softly, you could scarcely hear it. He sounded so needy, it lit a fire in your belly, much like the one still blazing in the fireplace.

“I shan’t ask for more, if you do not wish to give more.”

“I do, though, want more. I fear I want much, much more.” Your expression had noticeably darkened, lust filled, and Osferth had never seen this of you before. It wasn’t a bad change, though he was apprehensive.

“Are…Are you sure, my lady? I don’t want you to regret this. I’d hate for you to regret this.”

“I find that I have no regrets with you, sweet Osferth. Just promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“You’ll stop if I ask?”

“I wouldn’t dare disobey you, my love.”

“Good,” You leaned forward to give him another kiss, a bit more forceful and more sure of yourself, “because if you do, I’ll kill you with the sword you gifted me, baby monk.” You teased, making him giggle, the purest sound you would ever hear in your lifetime, you were sure. And this time, when you each pressed your lips together, it was filled with an altogether different feeling, charged and motivated, the thought of something more promising if you continued fueling your actions. It probably was because of the fire, but your body warmed and warmed to the point you thought your clothes would melt off your body if you kept them on any longer. “Can you help me take these off?” You asked shyly, gesturing to your still damp clothing.

Osferth’s eyes widened comically, that ever present blush on his face warming your heart better than fire in the hearth next to you. “S-Sure.” He stuttered, carefully and delicately removing each article of clothing (after asking if you were sure a few more times) until you were down to your bare skin. “Have I ever told you how absolutely breathtaking you are?”

You giggled, slightly self conscious. “I don’t think so.”

Osferth gently slapped himself. “What an idiot I am, huh?”

“You will be if you don’t take off your clothes too.” And with that, it was almost at the speed of light that all Osferth’s clothes were thrown into a pile of the floor, mingling with yours. You inhaled a breath as your eyes traced his frame, his pale skin making his battle scars more prominent, but you found that they made him more handsome. You didn’t mind that he was doing the same to you. “I don’t know quite what to do now…” You whispered, gently taking his hand and kissing his knuckles. “Will you help me?”

“Of course.” He replied back shakily, moving closer to you until you sat side by side, your exposed skin rubbing up against his, causing you to shiver pleasantly. “We’ll take it slow. I don’t want to rush this, not with you.” 

Osferth maneuvered you so that you were laying on your back, him resting beside you, propped up on one elbow, his other hand gently running up and down your torso. Gooseflesh rose along your skin as his calloused fingers marked a path across your body, from your jaw, down between the valley of your breasts, down your stomach to the tufts of wiry hair at the beginning of the apex of your thighs. “I have to ask again, love. Are you sure you want this? Want me?”

You could’ve whined, but you maintain your composure, however much was left. “With every iota of my soul.”

Osferth leaned down to kiss you passionately, that whine you had been holding in finally coming out when you felt his fingers dip in between you already silk folds. “So soft…” He hummed, trailing kisses down your neck to your breasts, covering one of your pebbled nipples with his tongue, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. You hadn’t realized how sensitive you were until now, his mouth sucking you in deeper as he slowly inched a finger inside you.

You moaned as he curled his finger, finding your sweet spot with inhuman ease. “Osferth…” You breathed, and he answered by gently tapping your sensitive nub with his thumb as he added another finger. “Osferth!”

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked immediately, causing you to chuckle wantonly, his eyes darkening as he felt your walls squeeze his fingers.

“No, heavens, no. Please, keep going.” You didn’t have to tell him twice, as he continued his ministrations with an added ferocity that had you aching your back of the blankets, moaning and bucking into his hand. A strange sensation that you couldn’t quite put into words seemed to keep building and building in the pit of your stomach, your eyes rolling back each time a deep pang of pleasure resonated through you. And as Osferth kissed you roughly and added a third finger inside you, the building sensation spilled over; like a fire doused with gasoline, you ignited, flames licking you from the inside out as you rode out the glowing waves of ecstasy with little care how loud you became.

And when it was all over, Osferth was there to soothe your burns.

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked softly, running his hand along the inside of your spread thighs.

“More than alright.” You smiled in a haze.

As you looked down, you couldn’t help but notice Osferth’s hardened length. You were surprised how it grew in size, always a wonder how such could fit inside a woman’s body. You absentmindedly reached out to touch him, a soft huff escaping his lips as you ran your hand along the silky skin. “We don’t have to do anything else, if you aren’t ready. I’m perfectly content having given you the pleasure you so deserve.”

“I told you I wanted you, Osferth. I meant that. I want you. All of you.”

Osferth pulled your hand away, kissing it before moving to settle in between your legs, the tip of his length prodding at your inner thigh before he guided it to your entrance. “Just tell me if you want to stop, for any reason. Promise me.” You sealed your promise with a kiss, nodding to him and he nodded back before very slowly pushing himself inside you, the both of you letting out gasps at the feeling. “Oh Lord above…” He groaned, bottoming out and stilling, burying his face in the crook of your neck, giving you however long you needed to adjust, but you found you didn’t need much time.

You whined, trying to cant your hips to get some very needed friction, but Osferth was too heavy. “Please…”

“I’m afraid…if I move so soon, I will not be able to last for very long, my love.” He spoke, his voice and body shaking. “I want…I need this to last.”

“Hey,” you lifted his head, looking at him lovingly, the flames of the fire shining in his bright blue eyes, “this will not be the first and last time we make love.”

“You don’t know that. I fear danger lurks around every corner now. We aren’t promised tomorrow.”

You kissed him, trying to push all his worries away. “Then make love to me as many times as you can.”

“Please?” He whined.

“Please.”

You cried out loudly as Osferth began to thrust into you wildly, moaning just as loudly with you, his cock hitting you in just the right places, the loud slapping of wet skin making your cheeks flush with heat. Your walls squeezed him perfectly, almost sucking him in deeper. Every ridge and every vein you could feel drove you wild, that same sensation building in you yet again. If you weren’t in such a pleasured haze, you’d be worried who might be able to hear you and Osferth, just from your moans alone.

“Oh, God, love. Feels so good. You feel so good.” Osferth groaned, his cock twitching inside you. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” And before you could reach another peak, he pulled out quickly, his warm spend shooting out of his tip, white streaks coating your stomach. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.” He moaned breathlessly, his blissed out expression the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“You’re beautiful, Osferth.” You whispered, the borderline predatory look in his eyes making you shy.

“You almost came again.” He spoke apologetically.

You smiled. “It’s alright. You already took care of me once.”

“‘S not enough.” He growled, lowering his face to your weeping cunny and before you could ask what he was doing, the words were stolen from you as his tongue licked and sucked at your nub, your denied peak building back up rapidly at his talented mouth.

“Oh, Osferth…” You almost sobbed, overly sensitive but not enough that you wanted him to stop, and from the moans he released, it seemed he was taking as much pleasure from this as you were.

“Come for me, my love. Please.” He begged, his words and moans causing vibrations against your mound, the pleasure overwhelming and all encompassing, your peak spilling on his lips and tongue.

Osferth rested against your inner thigh, his hooded eyes watching your cunt quiver and spasm as you came down from your high, the urge to dive back in almost too overpowering. But he withheld, coming back up to lay at your side with a crooked grin. “Are you okay?”

“How many times have you asked me that tonight, do you think?” You teased, catching your breath and moving to lay on his chest, listening to the steadying beat of his heart.

“If you’re annoyed with how many times I asked? Then just enough.”

Needless to say, neither you or Osferth got much sleep that night.

By the time everyone else returned for Osferth, the pair of you were inseparable. Where you go, he goes, and vice versa. It didn’t take a genius to see how disgustingly in love the two of you were. And neither of you expected to get away without a little bit of teasing.

As Finan watched the two of you, his words escaped him before he could even stop himself.

“So, when’s the wedding?”

tags: @tssf-imagines, @little-diable, @fan-goddess, @hiraethrhapsody, @chainsawsangel, @lauraneedstochill, @greenowlfactif, @st-eve-barnes

thanks for the support😊

The Less I Know The Better

Sydney likes Luca's cooking and Carmy wants to kill himself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, Arguing, Angst, Toxic Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Unprotected Sex, Jealousy, Alcohol, Panic Attacks, Codependency

Divider: firefly-graphics.tumblr.com GIF: thiscoldheart.tumblr.com

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N:

I used to pray for times like this. I'm so happy I finished the fic and I am unburdened by it. I have one more installment planned. It's not a continuation but how I imagine they got together in the first place. I'll try to get that out soon. The title is based on The Less I Know the Better by Tame Impala. Posted on AO3.

She didn't feel like she was in her body when she woke up the next morning.

Her head was floating away to some vast unknown paradox, she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling. It made her senses fall out of whack. She felt cold, even in his warm embrace. His body was always so warm. When he pulled her against him she’d sink into it, against his artfully crafted body, she felt at home.

She missed the mindlessness his touch brought. He’d look at her and hold her like she didn’t have to worry, ever, about anything. He always made her feel safe. She briefly registered an emotion she hadn’t felt since her business failed. It was gone, shaken off by the flexing of her fingers down to her toes.

The feeling left her and she could finally move.

She slipped out from under him, a stealth mission to leave the house before he woke up. He stirred when she stood up, her  blood ran ice cold. With a heart fighting its way out of her chest and tightly closed eyes - she begged god to keep him asleep. Just for a little longer, she wasn’t ready to face him. After a few moments of silence his breathing evened out and she could safely open her eyes. The breath she released was sure to be quiet.

The morning didn’t greet her with the smell of freshly cut grass or a warm radiant sky, but with a brittle bite. Her cheeks were stinging and her lashes were wet by the time she reached her father’s house.  

Emmanuel stood by his coffee maker. He watched as his sweet'n low disappeared into his coffee. His back was to her when she turned her key and welcomed herself inside. She never got rid of her key when she moved out in case something went wrong. God knows she was used to things going wrong.  

“Something tells me you want to talk.” He called behind him as he added cream to his cup. He watched as the color of his coffee lightened until it reached the desired hue.  

Sydney weakly snorted as she shrugged out of her puffer and heeled her shoes off at the door. She hung her coat on the rack and sat on the too stiff wooden seat sitting at the table. She sat in silence as the sounds of her father’s spoon clinking against a ceramic mug filled the air.

She absently noted that it was the mug she sculpted for him when she was just 9 years old.

More silence stretched between them.

She liked it though. She didn’t feel the need to perform or pretend like she wasn’t burning on the inside. He finally turned around bringing an extra cup with him, already filled with coffee prepared just how she liked it.  

“What’s on your mind sweet pea?” He took a seat, the wooden chair shifted under his weight and the floor creaked.  

Each time she tried to speak the words died on her tongue. She couldn’t form a coherent thought and the longer she struggled the more she thought about how stupid this all was.

Finally, she let herself breath.

“God, I wish mom were here.” She stared down at her reflection in her coffee. Nearly black with 2 sugars.

“So it’s one of those problems.” He spoke into his cup just before taking a healthy sip. The mug hit the table with a subtle 'clank'. “I can call auntie, but it’s close to midnight where she is.“ He was already moving to grab his phone when she stopped him.

“No, don’t bother auntie!" Her outburst made him pause. He slowly moved back to his previous position, watching his daughter with intensity. "It-“ she sighed glancing between her cup and her father’s befuddled face. He patiently awaited her confession. “It’s just about Carmy…” she bitterly chuckled as she she played with one of her braids. Twisting it around her finger before letting it fall. “Stupid really.”

“Ah,” he raised his eyebrows. “It’s one of those problems.” He hummed, contemplating his next set of words. Silently pondering how to best go about this. “Why do you say it’s stupid?”

She shot him a deadpan stare, “Come on. Boy problems, at this age?” She rested her elbows on the table and ran her hands over her face. Her fingers rested firmly against her eyes.

She pressed and pressed until the burning feeling of tears subsided. She wished she didn’t feel the need to be so strong all the time. She wished she could just breakdown and let those feelings flow instead of intellectualizing them every chance she got.

Emmanuel gently nudged her shoulder effectively bringing her back down to reality.  

“If you have a problem, you have a problem.” He waited until her glassy eyes reached his. “Talk to me, you can tell me anything.”

She sniffled, laying her hands flat against the table, sliding them back so she could feel the smooth surface. A grounding technique that always seemed to work. She slid them until they fell off the table and rested in her lap. It wasn't working this time.

“I just didn’t think I’d ever find myself back here again.” She muttered more to herself than to him. But he nodded along nonetheless. “We broke up. It was finished. Yeah, it was awkward at the restaurant but it was working…” she lifted one shoulder and let it drop before adding. "Working enough." She shook her head in disbelief. “Then- then he came to me for help and I just couldn’t say no. It’s like he knows just what to say and I’d do anything for him. Anything.”  

Emmanuel nodded slowly taking in her words. Hanging onto everything she said, saving his response for later when she was done pouring her heart out.

“Then I learn he hasn’t let go of his ex and they’re still” her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and she felt her throat burn with constriction. She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth slide down her throat and warm her belly. “They’re still friends and he brought her to family dinner and I don’t know. I think I did something stupid just because I was jealous and afraid. Now i'm debating if I even want to go to California still and you know this opportunity is all I ever really wanted. I still lo-“ she choked on her words before gulping them down.“I just don’t want to lose him.”

He inhaled deeply taking in everything she said. But he thought not to speak. - at least for now. He let her words linger and he let them penetrate his mind. His daughter was his heart, a spitting image of her mother, he just wanted to coddle her. To hold her against him and tell her everything would be okay and that he’d get rid of anything causing her distress.

As he stared at her he realized she wasn’t that little girl playing in his shoes anymore. She wasn't tripping over her feet and scraping her knees on the hot concrete. That was back when his kisses could make the pain go away in an instant. She was different. She had complex thoughts and even more complex feelings that he was afraid to admit he didn’t quite understand.

He didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t know what to do.  

“I ever told you about the time your mother and I broke up?” He watched as her eyes lit up with curiosity. “Yeah it was Summer of '83, she was missing home. Her parents were getting older and she wanted to spend as much time as she could with them.”

She watched as his eyes drifted to the ceiling and he recalled what happened all those years ago.

“I think I told her that if she left me I’d never forgive her, that I’d never speak to her again.”

“God dad.”   

“I know, I know.” He chuckled to himself. “But I just couldn’t imagine losing her or living apart. I wanted a family and I knew I didn’t want that with anybody else but her.” He shrugged. “I was being selfish. Selfish and stupid-”

“What'd she do?” She questioned before the tail end of his sentence could leave his mouth.

“She left.” He chuckled with the shake of his head. “I was dumb, a kid. I didn’t fully understand what love was. I didn’t think it could exist when there was such a great distance between us.”

Sydney thought about Carmy again. The way she’d felt sick at the thought of leaving him and The Bear. She shooed those thoughts away when her father began speaking again.   

“I lasted about three days, I think...” He recalled. “Maybe two and a half before I called her parents’ house. She didn’t want to speak to me but I wore her down and the first thing I said to her was that I missed her and that I was sorry.”   

She felt a warmth spread from her heart throughout her body. Despite herself, a smile broke over her face.  

“She of course told me to go to hell.” He laughed. His infectious laughter pulled Syd in, beckoning her to participate in his delight.

“So what?" She chuckled between her words. "You just wore her down even more?”

“Well, sorta kinda” he hummed with a grin on his face. “I got the next flight out and showed up at her parent’s doorstep with flowers and a ring. Hat in hand, I asked for her back.” He quirked his eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. “I think I gifted her parents some fresh fruit so they didn’t run me off their property.”

“Jesus, so did she take you back?” She leaned forward, cheeks aching from her smile. She loved hearing new stories about her late mother.

It was bittersweet, she knew that one day there wouldn't be anymore stories to tell.

“She did.” He supplied. “I asked her father for her hand that night and we were engaged the next morning. Flew back to the states a few days later.”

“Real smooth dad.” She chuckled. “Did she come back with you?”

“No, she stayed there for a few more months after I went back but we talked all the time. She taught me a lot, Syd.” He rested his hand over hers. “She taught me about patience and trust. She taught me to put myself first just like she did. Most importantly she taught me that love is something tangible, something real and nobody can define what it means for you, but you.” He let her sit with those words. “Now, I can’t tell you what to do in this situation. I know things are different nowadays in relationships. Kids aren’t getting married all willy nilly” he stopped short. “You’re not thinking of marrying this kid are you?”

“No dad.” She replied as she rolled her eyes. “It feels like we are though.”   

“Well, I’ll ask you this: How does he feel about all this?”   

“He-“ she stopped with a sudden realization. She hadn’t even spoken to him. She left him alone in her apartment in her bed after she confessed that she was leaving the state for an undetermined amount of time.

A fog lifted from her mind and it donned on her just how much of an asshole move that was. She hadn't even consider how he'd be taking all this.

“Dad I gotta go.”

Carmy blinked a few times adjusting to the sun's rays bleeding through the blinds. He let a yawn pass his lips as he rubbed his eyes. His arms reached out as the kinks in his shoulder popped and relaxed. He was used to mornings with Syd being spent in leisure. Quiet and intimate.

Whoever woke up first usually started breakfast. They never spent the morning after separated. Syd teased him once about being a ‘water sign’ (whatever that means) but Carmy hated the idea of waking up alone.

This was something Syd knew.

Carmy frowned when he felt that the other side of the bed was cold. He opened his eyes fully to examine the wrinkled bed sheets beside him. She'd been gone so long that the bed was now cold to touch.

“What the?” He turned his head around searching the space for her, listening for anything. “Syd?”

He stood up tugging on his pants and stumbling out of her room.

“Sydney?” He rushed through the space looking for her, a note, anything. But, she simply wasn’t home. He huffed pushing his hair back and staring at the white wall before him. No note, no notice, nothing.

Was he not worth the decency of a quick nudge, ‘Hey I'm headed out’? He just never thought she’d leave her own apartment to avoid an awkward rejection the morning after.

He felt so stupid.

He never felt stupider.

Of course, this was nothing, of course, this was a sympathy fuck or something worse. Like closure.

What else could it have been if shes that eager to get up and leave?

Carmy’s spiral of self-deprecation was cut short by the sound of keys turning in the door.

“You’re up!” She notes before turning completely around and locking the door. She used this precious time to squeeze her eyes shut and count to five. With a steadying breath, she turned around to face Carmy.

She always loved how sensitive he was when it was just the two of them. It was the look on his face that reminded her of their little agreement.

Leaving each other after having sex wasn’t something they did. Sex felt sacred to them, the time carved out was far too precious to ignore. After breaking up, the pact to remain in each other's embrace after still stood apparently.

“Yeah, I’m up!” He met her with a warm embrace, a warm smile on his face.

She was surprised at his reaction but decided that she liked this more than the expected awkwardness.

“Sorry, you had to wake up alone.” She exhaled sincerely into his shoulder.

He closed his eyes enjoying their closeness before pulling away.

“Where were you?” He grabbed the bags out of her hand and pecked her cheek before bringing them to the kitchen. “What's all this? You went grocery shopping?”

“Yeah on my way back I stopped by the store. I’m out of eggs and bacon and milk and you know everything.” She shrugged. “Wanted to make us breakfast.”

Something to soften the blow. Butter him up.

“That tends to happen when you spend all of your time at the restaurant.” He replied, playful sarcasm in his voice. He moved to begin cooking their breakfast. “Don’t feel bad, my place doesn’t look much better anyways.”

She wanted to help him but holding onto this secret, this brewing confession, left her mute and stagnant. After a few moments of watching him she cleared her throat and leaned against the counter.

“I bet.” She remembers all the mornings and nights when they had to make something out of thin air or order delivery if they were too tired from working.

She began putting the groceries Carmy didn’t need away.

"Where were you on your way back from?"

“Oh yeah I um I also went by my dads...”

Carmy sliced a square of butter and let it sizzle in the skillet. Something peculiar was in her tone, he knew that much.

“Yeah? How is he?” He glanced over at her finding that her face matched her tone. Peculiar.

“Still buying canned cabbage.”

He barked a laugh before sparing her a glance. “Gotta get him to see the light, Chef!”

“I’ve been trying, Chef.” They both laughed, naturally letting it tapper out. A swollen silence filled the air. “I talked to him about us”

That seemed to make Carmy’s ears perk up. “What about us?” He tried to keep his tone casual, but she knew him well. Each inflection in his voice stuck out like a sore thumb. No matter how normal he tried to sound.  

“I asked for advice.” She slowly delivered “Carmy. I don’t know if what we did was smart.”

He momentarily stopped scrambling the sizzling eggs, it was only for a second but the hitch in movement was noticeable.

“I’m not saying I regret it or anything,” She supplied quickly. “But I already have my plane ticket. I’m leave soon and we’re-“

“We’re not gonna work long distance.” He finished her sentence, realization seemingly hitting him in that moment. “You're right we won’t.” He admitted dejectedly.

Frankly, she was surprised by his answer and how understanding he sounded. She wished that she could fully understand the breadth of her decision herself.

She promised herself from a young age that she’d never let anything hold her back from her dreams - not money, not circumstances, not relationships - one thing seemed to slip through the cracks.

She misses when she never looked twice in a guys (or a girls, for that matter) general direction.

She kept her head down for so long working, working, working now her dreams were being fulfilled right before her eyes and she found herself hesitating. All because of some blue eyed man with anger issues.

She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to leave The Bear.

But she knew she had to. She’d resent him. She’d resent herself. If her mother’s death taught her anything, its to always live your life for yourself. Time here on earth was so short, a drop in the boundless ocean. She had to spend her time doing what she loved even if it called for great sacrifice.

“I can’t pass this up.” Her voice cracked. A very surreal feeling thickened the air as they accepted defeat.

This felt eerily final. 

“I wouldn’t want you to," He let a beat pass before adding on an obligatory, “Chef.” He sighs, clicking the front burner up a few notches. “Just don’t go over there and decide you like working in their kitchen more than mine."

"Yours?" She raised an eyebrow, her teeth winked at him as she smiled.

"Ours." They both smiled at his words and settled into more tension-filled silence.

“What's gonna happen to us?”

Carmy rattled the words around in his head as he plated the eggs and moved on to frying bacon. He focused on the popping sound of the grease and the smell of crisping pork. His movements were cathartic.

Cooking never left him. It never disappointed him. He could rely on this.

“Carm?” She tilts her head and meets his eyes.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat “We'll be,” he searched for the words. What would ex-lovers become if they ran a restaurant together? "Friends?"

She chuckled surprised at how heavy and foreign the word sounded in this context. But that was better than strangers or whatever the fuck they've been these past couple months.

"Friends with Chef Carmen Berzatto." She slowly nodded becoming familiar with the term that now described their relationship. "I'll take it."

They waited for the words to settle and for the air to return back to normal but it hadn't and eventually Carmy finished plating their breakfast.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower then head out.” He began walking away before she could reply.

"We're not eating together?"

"I'm not that hungry actually!" He closed the bathroom door behind him.

Time apart would be good, Carmy thought. They’d get time to think and to grow. This was good.

This had to be good.

✓ A pen.

✓ The ceiling fan.

✓ Boots.

✓ The TV.

✓ A pillow.

Five things he could see, check.

‘Gauge your surroundings. This will help ground you.’

Carmy's therapist taught him this method not too long ago. It quickly became one of the only things that could ground him nowadays.

She taught it to him towards the end of one of their first sessions. Her voice was calm and slow, drawing him out in a steady tempo of gentle negotiation. She spoke to him as if he had a bomb strapped to his chest and any sudden movements would set it off. He’ll never forget that day.

He was finally opening up about Mikey, telling her all about how they didn't have the best relationship but he somehow felt closer to him after his death. He hadn't realized how much he'd spaced out until he opened his eyes and he was back in his mother's house. Glass was breaking. A million alarms blared in his ears replacing his thoughts. Everybody was yelling. He couldn't breathe.

A panic attack in front of a stranger was new.

When he finally calmed down he realized that the world hadn't exploded and chunks of the rock weren't drifting through space leaving him to float in the vast unknown.

He was still in her office. He was still alive.

He blinked the memory away and rubbed his hands against his jeans, hoping the rough feeling against his sweaty palms would bring him back to earth.

He began naming four things he could touch under his breath.

"Jeans." He continued moving his hands over his thighs.

"Lambskin jacket." The inside was lined with fur.

"Shutter." It sat atop his bedside lamp - the warmth felt nice again his palm.

"Blanket." Sugar gifted it to him this past Christmas, it was way too fluffy but it did keep him warm at night.

What could he hear?

A bird chirping just outside of the window. It’d been going for a while he realized.

The low hum of electricity.

His phone beeping.

He took note. Then it beeped again and again until he descended from the clouds and found that it was ringing. He did a double-take at the contact before answering.

“Carmy?” Her voice bled through the receiver and he felt like he could breathe again.

Light. He felt it shining through the phone.

“You there?”

“Yeah, I,” He inhaled more air before blowing it out in once quick exhale. “I’m here.”

“Are you okay?” She worried her bottom lip, listening for any signs of distress.

She promised herself before her move that she'd focus on looking forward not back. But being friends with Carmy kept her feet firmly planted in the past. She felt them slipping back into the place they were at just before they got together.

Their exchanges were far too soft, far too thoughtful, and far too tense to be simply platonic. She had to remind herself that they'd been there and done that. This was good.

This was better.

“I am. I was just- it’s nothing." He scratched the back of his head. Unruly curls tangled around his nimble fingers. "Trying this 5,4,3,2,1 method my therapist taught me. It helps me calm down..." He plopped down on his couch and threw his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I was actually thinking about things I could hear before you called.”

“I know that method." She replied before checking the time.

She didn't need to leave for another 15 minutes. “If I’m not mistaken you have 2 more steps to go then.”

“I'm okay now, you- you help me breathe.” He confessed through a relieved chuckle. "So, tell me are you running that place yet or what?"

Sydney grinned but didn't let his charming words deter her. “What are two things you can smell.” She encouraged.

He realized his leg was still bouncing, maybe he wasn’t completely grounded. “I made spaghetti earlier and accidentally put too much garlic, so, garlic.”

“I bet it was still fire.” She hummed almost dreamily remembering the taste of his cooking.

“Wish you were here to taste it.” He muttered sadly playing with a rip in his jeans.

“Alright, big guy don’t go soft on me now.” She teased ignoring the butterflies in her belly. “What else can you smell?”

“Ah, my cologne I guess it’s new I kinda hate it." He pulled at the collar of his shirt, bringing it up to his nose before dropping it. "Too, I don’t know, fancy.”

“Yeah, you do love an earthy scent." She closed her eyes missing him now more than ever. Missing the way he smelled when he held her close and did the thing with his hips that made her words sound like simlish. "Now lastly what can you taste?”

“I had a stick of orbit earlier and the taste is still in my mouth.” He waited a beat. "Happy now?"

“Beaming!" She switched ears and walked to look out her window.

The small apartment she was subleasing was located smack dab in the middle of the art district. She enjoyed the sounds of the neighborhood at night and there was always some sort of performance art near the corner store she frequented. None of that mattered though, she rarely got to enjoy the artistic views because just outside of her window was a brick wall.

She ignored the symbolic implications that screamed at her every time she'd stare at it for too long.

“I feel alright- great actually, thank you Syd”

“No prob Carm." The heavy silence only reminded them of their distance. Sydney was the first to speak. "I'm adjusting to this place quicker than I expected actually.”

“Of course you are. You’re an amazing cook.”

He closed his eyes, trying to conjure her image in his head.

It was fuzzy and out of focus. Her complexion wasn't as vibrant. Her eyes were the wrong shade of brown. He missed how they flashed red in the sun. And pictures were just sobering reminders that she wasn't there with him.

He had to stop looking at them for his sanity.

“You’re reliable and confident."

A day without seeing her face was a day too many.

"Hey, you wanna Facetime?”

“Yeah one sec.” After a few seconds her face came into view.

Carmy felt his chest tighten. He’d spent their time apart creating this image of her in his head. He assumed because he missed her so much the image he created wasn’t accurate, there’s no way that she was that beautiful.

She was though. She was even more captivating than he remembered.

 Ve​nust: beautiful, comely, graceful, elegant.

Their busy schedules kept them from speaking to each as often as they wanted. Even when she lived in Chicago, they’d seen each other mostly in the kitchen.

Now they had to schedule appointments to talk. How bleak.

This phone call wasn't scheduled though.

“Hey, why’d you call?”

“Shit! Right, I called you. I was talking to Marcus the other day and apparently his friend from Copenhagen is coming here to fill in for someone. Isn’t that cool?”

She had her phone set up on her counter as she went about cooking. Carmy watched her in silence missing the way she moved around his kitchen.

“Luca? That's new. At least you'll kinda know someone there.” He hummed. “Are you making Bouillabaisse?”

"He's supposed to be arriving tomorrow." She stirred her simmering concoction. "How do you do that?" She chuckles keeping her eyes on the cloudy liquid. “I am. I’m cooking for everybody tomorrow including Luca and I’m super nervous so I’m trying out a few things!”

“Why are you so nervous?” He could really only think of one or two times she was genuinely nervous about her cooking.

Each time he wanted to grab her and convince her just how amazing she was. To stop doubting herself.

Then again he was probably being bias.

“Marcus speaks so highly of Luca and I know you and him are acquainted. I just want to live up to the hype.” She rambled.

“You will Syd.” He promised.

It was late. It was very late in Chicago so it was late in California and she still hadn't called.

He'd been busy all day so he didn't think twice about her promise to call later that day. But, he couldn't sleep and he'd grown tired of watching black and white reruns.

He tried not to watch his phone like a hawk but each time it lit up he couldn't help but grab it.

When she finally did call he had nodded off to sleep.

"Did I wake you I'm sorry!" She winced realizing how late it must've been. "I'll call back-"

"No!" He sat up "it's okay, I'm up." He yawned checking the time, 3:00 AM. He yawned again as he stood to grab a glass of water. "What's got you out so late?"

"It's only 1:00 where I am!"

"Still."

"Luca brought this special wine and we all got drunk off of one glass and did karaoke"

"Sounds like fun." He replied sincerely, preoccupied with boiling water. Tea would help him get back to sleep after their conversation. "How was the dinner? Did you impress everybody?"

"I did!" She exclaimed. "Sorry if I’m being loud.” He could almost see the expression she was donning. “Did you know that weed is legal here?"

Carmy grinned realizing she was still tipsy and probably a little buzzed. Whenever she had a little bit too much to drink she'd get this slur in her speech. Each word would hug the next and her Chicagoan accent grew thicker. She laughed a lot more, Carmy would worry about her cheeks hurting by the end of the night.

He gnawed on his lip to keep from confessing how badly he wanted to see her and kiss that smile off of her face. That's not how friends talked to each other after all.

"They loved it but Luca made this braised wagyu," She groaned. "Hands down, the best dish I've ever had!"

Carmy paused switching his phone to the other ear. "The best?" He masked the crack in his voice with a chuckle. "Luca?" He scrunched his nose up.

He didn't understand why that statement made him feel uncomfortable (for lack of a better term) but it did and he didn't like it. Previous to this development she always remarked about how his food was the best she ever had. He held that close to him, clinched between his finger afraid of losing it. Afraid of losing her favor. Her compliments felt like a drug and he was forever chasing that high. Wanting to please her. Have her direct that smile and those dangerous eyes at him. 

"Yes, you have to try it!"

"Maybe...'m not a huge fan of Wagyu. Also, I've tried his cooking before." He didn't know why he was lying. He loved Wagyu.

Luca was a good enough cook, not better than Carmy, but decent.

His hands rattled as he stirred honey into his piping hot tea. That unwelcome feeling twisted within him tugging him down to a level of immaturity he despised. Maybe as a teenager this would feel more normal but as he stands now it felt unhinged.

His chest burned as he tuned back into Syd's rambling.

"…I invited him to eat at The Bear when I fly back for my birthday next month."

"Ah, so you two are friends?" He continued, voice soft. He couldn't bring himself to ask her the question any louder.

"Of course! He's so cool Carmy. He's a beast in the kitchen. He's teaching me how to make this cake that has an insane amount of layers tomorrow."

"You really like this guy..." He muttered. "I'm happy you're getting on well there. Really, Syd you deserve this." He continued with renewed interest.

Aside from those weird feelings, he couldn't quite pin down, he knew that his job was hyping her up. Being a supporter. A friend.

One day he’ll stop having to remind himself of that sobering fact. 

"Thanks." She settled on her bed. "I miss you."

He hoped it happened soon.

"I miss y-" he began, but she continued on without missing a beat.

"I miss everybody at The Bear"

"Well, we miss you too."

Today was slow. It went smoothly. There were virtually no mistakes made in the kitchen and Carmy found himself with extra time on his hands.

He could be normal and go home or go out for a drink, but alas he preferred the kitchen. There was always something to do in the kitchen after all.

"Hey are you busy?" Sydney lounged on her couch, exhausted from the busy day she had.

He looked around finding that he was in fact not busy and had finished all of his tasks.

"Nope, what's up?"

"I got secret shopped again!"

"Damn chef," he whistled "you're on fire. Once this year once last year."

"The asswipe said my lobster tail was 'overcooked'."

"Lobster tails' easy to mess up." He shrugged "I have this method I can show you when you visit."

"No, actually its okay. Luca taught me this technique and it came out so much better."

“Right, right." He cleared his throat hoping the popping in his ears stopped. He tugged on his earlobe before grabbing a damp towel and wiping down the same spot he'd just finished wiping down.

There goes that weird feeling again, creeping up his body forcing him to move until it subsided.

"What is he like,” he hesitated. “He’s mentoring you now?”

If she heard the shakiness in his voice she ignored it.

"Not sure if I'd say all that. He's a good teacher though, kinda filling that gap." She replied busy multitasking.

Her phone sat on the bathroom counter with the speaker turned up so she could still carry on with the conversation. Her braids bunched up comfortably under her silk scarf. By morning her scarf would've slipped from her head and made its way to the floor and her braids would be sprawled across her silk pillow. It's the thought that counts.

"You told me he was good but dude he's like your level good."

She grabbed her phone and made her way to bed. At the sound of his bashful laughter she felt a pinch in her chest akin to an esophageal spasm.

Missing him had grown physical and she just wanted to keep him on the phone. She was hoping that the sound of his voice bleeding through her phone would comfort her.

She could lie back and imagine that he was right beside her, that he followed her here like she wanted him to. But he had his own shit he had to sort out. She knew begging him to come and see her every time she missed him wouldn't be feasible because she missed him every second of every day.

But Carmy, who was on the other side of the world, it seemed, didn't know this. He only heard her praises of Luca shooting out of the phone like spears and piercing him until he didn't want to be on the phone with her anymore.

"I actually do have something I need to do. Catch up later?"

"Sure..." she stared at her phone screen as he hung up.

She remained there trying to figure out where things went wrong and why he rushed off the phone. The screen soon turned black and she saw her reflection staring back at her.

She didn't get much sleep that night.

"So you're just not gonna visit?" He frowned. "It's your birthday Syd, come on just take a couple days off I'll buy you a ticket myself."

'I just wanna see you!' He stubbornly thought.

"I can't. It sucks for me too, but it’s the mayor. I can't exactly pass up serving the mayor." She frowned looking at a framed photo of the two of them at The Bear's official opening.

'"Come on Carmy stop working for one second and get a picture with Syd!" Sugar grabbed his arm dragging him out of the kitchen and out front where Sydney directed a delivery man around back. She moved to follow him and make sure he found his way when Sug grabbed her arm and placed her next to an annoyed Carmy.

"Natalie we open in 2 hours I don't have time for this." He huffed placing his hands on his hips.

"Yeah and I think he's taking the order to the wrong entrance." Syd looked behind her following a delivery man with her eyes. She began to call out to him when Sug grabbed her shoulder making her turn back around.

"If you two stand still for a second I can get a picture and you can go back to stressing out, okay?" She rolled her eyes "You guys looks so cute in your matching outfits!" She beamed holding her phone up.

"Uh, everybody's wearing these?" Sydney looked around ignoring Sugars sound of indignation. Carmy stifled a laugh agreeing with her.

"Just smile." She gave up trying to reason with them. Carmy threw his hand over Syd's shoulder and threw his other hand out to Sugar.

"Okay, okay see I'm smiling come on take the picture!"

Syd was caught laughing, her eyes closed. While Carmy was caught with his mouth open, his hand thrown towards the camera. He hated it, but Syd thought it was perfect.

"No, no- yeah, you're right." He settled. Not much else was said after that. Carmy sighed closing the cookbook he'd been perusing for the perfect cake recipe and headed home.

“Fuck, sorry Chef!” Syd winced feeling warm all over. She’d stayed behind with Luca so he could teach her a few tricks. However, in the span of just an hour she compared his cooking techniques to Carmy’s about five times. But who's counting.

“All good, Syd. I never thought about trying that! He laughed. “And relax you can call me Luca”

”Right, Luca.” She continued “I’m just feeling a little homesick. My birthday is tomorrow and I decided to stay back because you know the whole mayor hoopla.”

She was close to saying screw the mayor just so she could hop on a red eye and do something pathetic like beg her ex-boyfriend for sloppy, rough, no-strings-attached birthday sex.

He nodded sympathetically before putting down his knife, a brilliant idea on his tongue.

“How about I take you out for a drink afterwards?”

”Maybe...I’m usually so tired after work. I was talking to a few servers last week and Fay talked about wanting to go out this weekend too-”

”I mean I can take you.” He waited a beat before hesitantly adding. “Just us...”

”Oh," she cleared her throat finding it harder to look him in the eyes. "Like a date?” She raised an eyebrow.

”Yes," he chuckled. "If that’s okay with you?”

She never got used to being hit on or asked out. She grew up awkward and introverted. But something happened when she turned 20.

Like a Cinderella transformation or something. Men were falling over themselves. Women began batting their eyelashes at her and inviting her to sleepovers. She soon realized that they were flirting with her and by sleepovers they meant sex.

Her immediate thought was to turn him down. But she couldn't find a good enough reason other than it would probably hurt Carmy's feelings.

He had been dodging her phone calls though. They barely spoke these days. Maybe he's moved on. Maybe he didn't care what she did.

She eventually remembered herself and she remembered that she and Carmy were just friends. So she put on her best smile and nodded.

"I'd love that."

Later That Evening

“I got the knives you sent me." She toyed with one, balancing it on her fingertips gauging how heavy it was. "Thank you they're really fucking nice.”

“I'm happy you like them. Just something I saw and decided to pick up...” He ran a shaky hand over his mouth. "For you. F-For your birthday I mean."

He didn't know when he started feeling nervous speaking to her but it sucked. He felt like a teenager. He even found himself avoiding her calls, figuring that if they continued speaking every day and night he'd never get over her.

At this point he didn't know if he wanted to get over her or if it was a possibility.

She'd gotten under his skin. Digging her way to his fractured heart and somehow making a home out of it.

He felt like a fucking loser, blushing during a phone call. A fucking phone call.

“You saw five hundred-dollar knives just lying around and bought them?" She replied endeared.

“Well, you know how it goes." He shrugged.

Heat rushed to his face again.

Realistically he figured he was going to get them for her months ago, but telling her that felt too eager. Like he was trying too hard to impress her.

“So," She sat the knife down but couldn't stop eyeing it. The pristine set sparkled under the warm lighting in her living room. Her eyes caught her name engraved at the bottom of one of the vegetable knives. 

Warmth covered her neck and traveled up her cheeks.

''Just decided to pick them up' my ass.'

"How's The Bear been with me gone?”

“You know, we’re staying afloat. The new hires are all great. Everybody's been getting better and better. And Marcus?" He whistled. "He's doing some shit I haven't even tried."

"I'm gonna have to ask him to overnight me some donuts or something." Her phone vibrated momentarily pulling her from the conversation.

Luca (restaurant): I know we'll probably be wiped after tomorrow so I'll stop by later on around midnight? I know this great place that's open late

"Looks like Copenhagen did him well." Carmy noted.

Like an incessant alarm her conscience rudely screamed at her. She had to tell him sooner or later.

"Hey, so, speaking of Denmark, I have a um I have something to tell you..."

He waited for her to continue speaking for a bit, but her deep sigh caught his attention.

"Whats up? Everything okay?"

“It's just-" she clenched her fist over her mouth wanting to swallow her next set of words. Through gritted teeth she finally choked it out. "Me and Luca are go-going on a, going on a date tomorrow." She waited a beat. "He wanted to take me out for my birthday!" Another awkward beat. "And I thought it’d be weird for me not to tell you considering...well you know.”

He didn’t speak for a while.

"I'm sorry if that's weird but I'd feel weirder not telling you." She winced bracing herself as she awaited his response.

He blinked a few times, pulling his phone away from his ear to look at her contact photo. Yeah that was still Syd on the phone.

He felt like he was speaking with a stranger not the girl he loved. The girl who would never purposely hurt him. Her voice was muffled, like she'd been submerged in water.

Now he wanted to be as far away from his phone as possible.

"You still there?" She bit her thumbnail regretting her words.

"I am I" He cleared his throat, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. "I just didn't expect that. That's all.” His voice quieted, just above a whisper now.

"I know. Was it weird that I told you? Are things weird now?" She tried to keep the panic out of her voice but it was evident.

"No, not weird." He cleared his throat in an attempt to find his voice. But when he spoke again the only thing he could muster was a hint of what his voice could be.

If Syd didn't know any better she'd think she heard heartbreak in his voice. But they were over right? They'd been over. They had to move on from each other.

Lingering wasn't healthy. No matter how romantic The Cranberries made it sound. 

Although she felt this way, she couldn't help but feel like she betrayed him. A Delilah stringing her lover along just to chop off his golden curls when he slipped into comfort. Just when he felt like he could let his guard down.

"I am a little busy so-so I have to check on that uh that," he snapped his fingers a few times. "Delivery. The delivery for tomorrow morning."

"Wait, what? I don't understand?"

"I'll touch bases with you this weekend." He didn't wait for her to answer before hanging up.

Syd found herself once again staring at her phone screen. It lit up momentarily reminding her of the unanswered text from Luca. With little reluctance she replied.

Syd: I can't wait! :)

Dinner went off without a hitch and the mayor even complement Sydney personally. By 10:00 P.M. she was on her way home and by 10:30 she sat on her couch, finger hovering over Carmy's name.

"He doesn't care Syd." He hadn't even wished her a happy birthday. "Just get ready for your date." She whispered to herself. "Maybe, I'll just send a text..."

Syd: Not to brag but the mayor said she never had a steak quite like mine

With that done she plugged her phone in the charger and began getting ready for her date. The date she was excited to go on and not at all dreading.

Every 10 minutes she'd check her phone for a response from Carmy. But nothing, he hadn't even seen the message. She huffed turning back to the mirror to pull her braids into a high ponytail.

The doorbell chimed over the radio playing oldies in her living room.

“Fuck he’s here early!” She cursed checking the time before rushing to the door only to find someone she thought she left back in Chicago.

“Carmy?”

“Hey." He strolled inside pulling his luggage behind him. His baby blues drinking her in. “You look nice.”

Keep it polite, he reminded himself. She looked more than nice, skin shiny and sparkling. Perfume pulling him closer and closer.

He cracked his knuckles, stopping himself from reaching out and touching her.

There were moments, fleeting, minuscule, when her voice would radiate from his phone. Resonating, seducing him. It made him want to reach through the receiver and feel her warmth.

He had to settle on touching himself. Then he'd feel like a creep and swear it off. It never stuck.

Now she was here, within reach, looking like that for someone else. He brushed his knuckles against his lips admiring her from a safe distance.

“Got any plans?”

She blinked a few times, hand still on the nob, door ajar. "Uh yeah, Luca is on his way.” She scoffed finally snapping out of it.

With each stride she took toward him, he felt his pulse drum faster.

“I told you that last night?”

She crossed her arms watching as he studied her. As if she were a puzzle or a Monet. He marveled almost. No one ever looked at her quite like he did.

“Right, you two are seeing each other or whatever.” He twisted his mouth instantly wanting the nasty taste of those words out his mouth.

He distracted himself by looking around her living room. His heart lurched when he came across a photo of the two of them on the morning of The Bear's official open. The entire staff took turns taking pictures together, they took several as a group but Sug just couldn’t resist getting a pic of them out front in their matching fits.

It was framed, he noted with reddening cheeks. "You got it framed.” He cooed just under a whisper.

“Of course, it's my proudest accomplishment.” His black t-shirt stretched across his back as he leaned forward to examine the picture more closely. A few strands of his hair were kissing his forehead when he faced her again.

"Proudest huh?" Something was different about him. Whatever it was evaded her. His hair wasn't in it's normal state, busy and tangled, instead his curls neatly sat upon his crown. He never really wore jewelry but now he donned a thin chain that played peak-a-boo with her wandering eyes. "Mine too."

He wasn't as jittery as he usually was. His hands were still, almost too still. This wasn't the Carmy she left in Chicago. He momentarily broke eye contact, a fleeting admission of anxiety that was gone by the time he captured her gaze again.

This was a facade she decided. There was something troubling him. Something huge that she knew he wouldn't be able to keep under wraps for long.

His tongue grazed his bottom lip, she watched it go.

She shook her head, plunging her thoughts into ice cold water.

"That's doesn't- what are you doing here?"

"Ouch" he placed a hand over his chest, leaning back as if she physically hit him. "Is it a crime to visit my friend?"

She cut her eyes at him growing increasingly more frustrated at his casualness. His gum chewing. His stupid hair that was always messy but for some reason was now perfect. And god those stupid eyes, she could excuse everything else if it wasn't for his penetrative stare.

Always calling to her. Burning up her skin, leaving her insides vibrating for minutes until she worked up the courage to will those feelings away.

"Carmen," she took a deep breath. "Please don't play with me right now. I have plans."

"Right, and you're still going?" He questioned like he was asking her for the time. "Because I really need to talk to you."

"What? I'm supposed to overlook you conveniently showing up the night I have a date?" She blew a raspberry, feeling her nerves burn up at his expression. "And stop looking at me like that!"

He maintained eye contact, trying his hardest to keep his smile at bay. He missed this.

"Okay I admit my timing isn't the best..." He trailed off shoving his hands in his pocket. "But I just needed to see you, Sydney. I need to talk to you."

"I actually have this really cool new invention called the cellphone-" she crossed the room grabbing her phone. The device flashed on as she turned around holding it up. "Would you look at that? It works! Did you forget that the phone worked both ways?"

"In person," he sighed finally dropping his facade. Apparently his sad attempt at charm was falling on deaf ears. "Can I please have a second of you time? Then I'm gone." His previous bravado had dissipated, leaving room for him to be himself. "I just need to, need you to hear me."

She shouldn't be talking to him right now. She left him in Chicago. She left all that stress and dysfunction, and this relationship behind. How did it still find her? What possessed him to chase after her?

"Luca will be here any minute, I mean after-"

"Why do you like him so much?" He cut her off, twiddling his thumbs - a pensive expression covering his face. He rubbed a finger over his eyebrow, a nervous tick. "Its like all you talk about is him. What is it? Are you fa-falling" he gulped, trying to conjure moisture in his mouth. "How serious are you two?"

"Carmen Berzatto, you took a 4 hour flight because I'm going out on one date with a guy I've known for a few months?" She shook her head. "This can't be healthy."

"I just need to know if you plan on dating this guy." He shrugged, hands palm up and outstretched. "As your friend I feel like I have an obligation. I care about you so much-"

"Cut the shit. You came here because you're jealous."

He felt the tips of his ears warm at her accusation. A very true one at that.

"I've been obsessed with you since before we even spoke to each other and I finally have the guts to have a drink with some other guy and you do this?"

“It's not just that Syd" His voice teetering on a desperate plea. Fuck if it didn't tug at her heart strings.

"Then what is it? What made you get your ass on a plane and show up at my door in the middle of the night."

He ran a hand through his hair effectively messing up the expert styling he'd done in the airport bathroom. "I-I missed you and I wanted to talk to you, and it's your birthday."

She stared at him long and hard before giving up and plopping down on her couch. "Okay. What did you want to talk about?" She checked her phone to find Luca had sent an 'On the way!' text.

"Are you thinking of moving here? Permanently, I mean." He sat on the bar stool adjacent from her, his leg shaking incessantly. "You mentioned Luca being the best cook in the world or something like that and I just wanted to know if you thought he was good enough to stay or maybe you'd want to go cook with him where ever he ends up."

She quirked her eyebrow, taking time to survey his face for any sign of humor but he was stone cold serious. That was when she surprised herself - and Carmy - with laughter.

"You're serious right now?"

"What? Why are you laughing at me?" He stopped shaking his leg. That reaction wasn't right, was it?

"I'm not..." She shook her head as she lifted up a finger. The sweet sound floated around them. Carmy shifted uncomfortably noticing how warm his face was growing. "All of this is because I said I liked his cooking?"

"No." He balked. Even he could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

She tilted her head to the side letting her laughter subside. She was looking at him how she used to again. With warmth and maybe even love, but he didn't want to get his hopes up.

"He's not going to replace you Carmy."

He felt embarrassed. Like these last few months in therapy were all for nothing. He didn't try any of his exercises and he overreacted. Now he felt like a possessive prick who can't get over his ex-girlfriend - who works for him.

He should probably make Sug head of HR, because their lack thereof was becoming starkly noticeable.

He should just leave. Go before she could officially cut him off. Get out of her hair for good. He didn't remember standing up but she was soon standing before him, placing a gentle hands on his shoulders.

"Stop it." She broke through his thoughts.

"What?"

"I said stop it. God I can hear your thoughts from here." She inched closer to him before running her hand from his shoulders to his clammy hands "Luca is cool and yes we have a date but I think I have something to say to you too."

He stiffened staring at their joined hands.

"Whats that?" He replied thickly. As if tears were threatening there way out of his downcast eyes.

She used two fingers to lift his head until he was looking her in the eyes.

"Carmy, I'm not going anywhere." Flashes of his vulnerable confession just before they hooked up came back to her.

She wanted to say this back then, she wanted to tell him that she didn't want their hookup to be a dead end but she felt weak for feeling that way. Like she had to prove something to herself, to the world, and to Carmy. She wanted to prove that he didn't have the upper hand. She could now see how naive that was.

"I want to be with you. L-like we were before, but healthier." She suppressed a grin but he caught it. "I have this huge, never ending, and frankly inconvenient crush on you. And I don't know man, it's gonna take a lot to get rid of me."

”I love you." It felt like the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he'd been baptized in cool water and his vitality had been renewed. "I don’t want you to feel like I’m this brainless prick. I know I don't own you and coming here was probably the last thing you wanted but-" he grabbed both her hands. "It's you Syd. You drive me crazy."

Bright flecks of happiness peaked from within him and shined against Sydney.

"And it's you."

Those grating feelings of uncertainly that dominated his thoughts and body began seeping out, never to be felt again. He was ready to let go of the baggage that came with doubt. He hoped Syd wouldn't pick it back up.

"So, what are you saying? You want me back?" He knocked their hands together, swinging them in a childlike bout of giddiness.

"Only if you'll take me back." She confessed, remaining hopeful that they were still on the same page.

He brought her hands up to his mouth and kissed each knuckle keeping his eyes connected with hers.

"Are you crazy?" And that was all it took really. He let go of her hands and didn't spare a second to pull her against his chest and inhale the fruitiness of her aroma.

She smelled like a freshly cut mango on a summer day. When you'd suck at the seed and the nectar would run down your arms. You couldn't bring yourself to care because it tasted so damn good.

Her lips felt like home. She tasted like she had before. He cradled her head between his hands, devouring her. His hands traveled down to her waist pulling her flush against him.

She gasped at the movement but let him will her body to his control. She missed how he held her. She missed how his hair felt between her fingers. How he kissed her like he couldn't get enough of her. His kiss was something that never changed.

He didn't care to pull away or open his eyes when the doorbell rang. Syd felt his arms pull her impossibly closer when there was a knock.

He'd forgotten all about Luca, who was innocent in all of this, but he was having a hard time rationalizing that.

Syd was the one that pulled back causing a sound of disapproval to leave Carmy's mouth. She remained in his grasp. She wasn't sure if she could get out of it if she tried. His hands clasped her in a firm grip, like she'd slip away if he let go.

"What are you gonna do?" He questioned bracing himself for her answer. She looked from him to the door and back again.

"I'll go talk to Luca." She decided. "I'll let him know I can't come out tonight."

"Okay." He breathed, finally letting her go. He missed her softness, how had he gone so long without this.

She pecked his cheek sweetly, briefly, admiring the scattered freckles littering his neck.

“Be right back." She promised before turning to get the door.

Carmy watched as the door closed behind her. He exhaled and looked up to the ceiling and thanked whatever god was up there that coming here actually worked. 

"Woah Syd, in a hurry to go?" Luca jested backing up as Syd stepped outside. He looked down admiring her outfit choice but stopping short at her feet. More specifically her choice in shoes. "No offense but, are these house slippers?"

"Uh," she glanced down. "Yes they are. Look-" She was trying and failing at internally psyching herself up. She loved Carmy, but this still made her feel like shit. "You know Carmy right? Chef Carmen Berzatto?"

He slowly nodded and raised an eyebrow. "I think you may have mentioned him once or twice also I kind of worked with him." He chuckled teasingly. "What about him?"

"Right, you did." She winced. "He actually dropped in and I'd feel bad leaving him inside and I'm so sorry but"

"You're canceling our date." He supplied.

She nodded shamefully. "Sorry, I just - we, I mean Carmy and I- and, and you drove all the way here. I just"

"Hey, hey Sydney it's alright." He laughed, hand shooting up to stop her. "I understand. We aren't reciting vows." He laughed more so to himself this time. "Mind if I say hello?"

She hummed imaging how that could turn out. She considered them being adults and not animals but she also considered how badly she wanted to send him away and climb on top of Carmy and stay there until the sun came up.

"Sure." She welcomed him in.

Carmy paused his nervous pacing, his eyes caught Syd's as she put on her best I'm sorry face and mouthed 'Be nice'.

"Chef Berzatto!" He reached a hand out waiting for Carmy to shake it. Carmy stared at it before Syd coughed breaking him out of it and forcing him to shake Luca's hand.

"Hey man." He cleared his throat shoving his hands in his pocket. A bout of awkward silence passes through the room. "How you been? Marcus said you've made quite the name for yourself in Denmark."

"I could say the same about you." He grinned "It's been great though. But it's different here. I'm actually considering a move out here, check out a few more places. Mind if I borrow Chef Sydney though?"

Carmy didn't answer not knowing exactly how to respond without it coming out snarky or rude. So he simply didn't respond.

"Just jokes, just jokes!" He broke the tension. "Well, I just came in to say hello. See how you were getting on."

"You know how it is, Chef. There's always something." He replied plainly.

Luca nodded sensing that his presence was no longer wanted. The air was slowly being sucked out of the room. The longer he stood between Syd and Carmy the more he realized their building tension.

When he moved she moved, when she breathed he replied with his own pattern of inhale and exhale. After seeing the way Sydney looked at Carmy he wondered how he ever thought she looked at him with any hint of attraction.

"I'm gonna head out." He nodded his head towards the door. "Bye Syd, see you Saturday. Come in early so I can finally teach you how to make Chocolat au Crumble de Fraises." He closed the door behind him.

Carmy kept his eyes on the door. "Have I ever told you how annoying that guys is?" 

Syd laughed sauntering over to her cabinet to pour herself a drink.

"Shut up Luca is a cool guy."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He playfully replied following her path and grabbing himself a glass. "Hey, I'm sorry about not telling you about inviting" he cleared his throat, "yeah to-to uh dinner."

"Carmy..."

"Please, just, can I actually offer a real explanation?" He waited for her to give him the go.

After she nodded he continued

"We ran into each other, randomly, she was still a little prickly towards me. I you know, I felt so bad. She's still a friend of the family, right? And I didn't know what to say, so I invited her to dinner. I didn't stay the entire night and left before we even got to the second course." He gulped down his brown liquor. "We haven't spoken since. Promise."

She looked down at her drink. Warmth covering her face. She was thankful of her rich complexion, how it protected her from that kind of vulnerability.

"Thank you." She breathed, looking up from her nearly empty glass. "For that, you, I should've just talked to you. I shouldn't have been so mean."

“Stop it." He refilled her glass. He followed her movements as she sipped the sharp whiskey. Her lips were shiny once she pulled it back.

She shifted under his stare. Attempting to match him by watching him back. It only made the room grow warmer. She was pulsating now. Liquor had always spelled danger for her.

Thankfully he lost their unspoken competition.

"I actually forgot, one sec.” He released a deep breath, bending down to grab something out of his bag. A manila envelope.

She eyed it curiously, intrigued by what he had up his sleeve. He ran a finger over his right brow before extending it towards her.

“Here”

She took the envelope and slowly opened it. It was a contract. A contract for The Bear. Establishing her as a co-owner along with Carmy. 

“You okay?” His soft voice broke her from her daze. He ducked his head catching her watery eyes.

She blinked realizing that tears were welling in her eyes. She wiped them quickly in embarrassment.

”Fuck sorry.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

"No, it's not, you don’t have to say anything right now." He assured. "The Bear is as much mine as it is yours. This isn’t me trying to make you stay in Chicago. I’d never do that to you, I know you want to do more than work in that shithole” he mocked. “But it’s, it's ours isn't it?  I want you to know you’ll always have a home.”

She kicked herself for letting more tears pass her lids. They were quickly wiped away as well. She shook her head skimming over it and seeing the signature line at the bottom. All she had to do was sign.

“Jesus, Carmy would’ve been easier if you asked me to marry you.” She laughs eyes still on the paper reading the header over and over again. She could own something. Something that wasn't destined to fail.

He hummed thoughtfully, “You’re right, it would be easier if I asked you to marry me.”

They let the thought linger. She gently placed the papers back on the envelop.

"Thanks again, for-for telling me about the uh dinner thing. I know we weren’t together so of really wasn't any of my business-“

"Together or not, don’t want you thinking I don’t care about your feelings.“ His words hit her deeply. How careful he always was especially with her. She pulled him into a hug, relaxing as she held onto him.

His hair smelled freshly washed and he was wearing some fancy cologne. Leaning back she took him in, more carefully this time.

”What’s got you all dressed up?” She raised an eyebrow.

He looked down at himself then back at her, “Didn’t want to ask you to be my business partner in a dingy white-tee.”

"You could’ve.“ She laughed. “But you look really nice. I like your cologne...“

"It’s the one I hate.“ He noted “Nat said I should wear it.”

"She knows you came?”

”She drew up our contract” He explained “She wants no legal obligation to that place by the end of the year.”

"Better me than her I guess." Her reply was absentminded as she trailed Carmy's body. How could someone who ate like a frat boy maintain a body like his.

"What?” He looked down self consciously.

"Have you been working out?” She always knew him to be fit but she swears his biceps were bigger than they were the last time she saw him. 

"Yeah, been hitting the gym hard since you left.” He shrugged. “Helps with stress”

”I’m sure it does.” She rips her eyes away from his arms to pour herself a heftier drink. “You look great.” The compliment slipped out of her. "You know what else helps with stress?"

Shut up Syd. SHUT UP.

"No, what is that?"

His arms rested on the counter, outstretched past her. She swayed brushing against it, stumbling back onto the bar stool behind her.

He didn't know if he wanted to look at her drawing eyes or kissable lips. His eyes darted between both as he leaned closer to her, wanting to know the secret she kept.

She should've stopped drinking one glass ago, now her filter was withering away and her sober mind was locked behind a cage guarded by her horny intoxicated mind.

Sydney's alarm made the both of them jump away from each other.

With this distraction, her sense came rushing back. They shouldn't have sex.

Not now.

She had work in the morning and everything was still so fresh. Plus she was feeling like a fucking doofus around him and she didn't know why.

Her reasoning sounded like B.S. in this moment but somewhere in her head it made sense.

"I'm- that's my alarm for bed." She chuckled, as she slid off the bar stool, temporarily swaying a bit too close to him. He followed her as she moved away, so close to kissing her but he decided against it at the last minute. "Just gonna go get ready for bed." With that she left.

Carmy watched her disappear behind her bathroom door and waited until the shower cut on to breath. He pressed his hand against the seam of his jeans, willing his hard on away.

Steam billowed out before her once she left the bathroom and padded over to her bedroom. He was looking over the Polaroids that hung above her dresser. Each memory she cherished. 

"Shit sorry." He turned around like he'd been caught red handed. "Didn't mean to intrude."

"No it's, you're fine." She pulled her towel, that she realized was entirely too short, closer. The fluffy white fabric stopped just below the curve of her ass.

He watched as a bead of water trailed over her collarbone and under the towel. She sat on her bed, fingers still tightly holding the towel around her.

"You, uh did you see the pic there at the top?"

Carmy heard her but he didn't have the capacity to respond. He was suddenly so thirsty. He missed how she tasted. He turned back around to find the photo she referred to.

Shifting, her thighs granted her temporary relief. Blood thudded inside of her.

"Holy shit is that?" He squinted his eyes trying to get a closer look at the photo. "It can't be we hadn't even met at that point." The restaurants name etched on a menu beside the dish confirmed his suspicions.

He prepared this dish during a time of devaluation and grief. He was alone and felt like he'd lost touch with his family. When really Mikey was just avoiding him. He was told it was never good enough. He was a fuck up who didn't know the first thing about cooking. He swore he'd never made it again - too many bad memories. Funny how even at the lowest point in his life, she seemed to find some good in him.

"Remember I told you I tried your cooking well before I met you."

"Yeah I remember I just," he glanced back at her, eyes dropping to her enticing thighs before darting back to the photo on the wall. "I-I didn't know you had a picture of it!" He chuckled. "Do you photograph all the food you eat?" He quirked an eyebrow, turning back to her. "Or was I special?"

He just wanted to hear her say it. He'd never ask her for anything else if she just called him special.

With each step forward an inferno blazed within her, it'd be impossible to look away now that he was so close.

She imagined this was how it felt after staring at the sun for too long. Hypnotized by its beauty. Blinded by it's ferocity. Appreciative of its life. She understood now why people worshiped the blazing ball in the sky.

He stood above her, overbearing almost. She looked up at him, trying not to shiver at his attention. She failed.

"You were special." Her voice was small. She feared speaking louder would give her away.

"Thought I was special, did you." He grinned knocking their knees together.

His mind wouldn't stop racing. He resisted his urges long enough, seeing that on her wall like it was art stirred something within him. She was always there seeing him for who he was and not who everybody wanted him to be. The depth of his feelings for her broke new ground, growing treacherous. He'd be terrified if he didn't trust her with his heart, his life. 

"I did." She replied, voice still hidden under her embarrassing desire.

"You're special too." He nudged her legs apart, moving closer. Still above her. Still staring down at her as if this were the most casual thing in the world. Beneath his depth he was anything but.

She wondered if he'd still respect her if she got on her knees right now.

If she begged for it. If she came by simply rubbing her body on his.

"You know that right?" The back of his hand grazed her cheeks. He could feel the warmth. She couldn't hide now.

She nodded, hypnotized by him, afraid to speak, fearing a feral moan would rang out.

"Can you say it for me?" He waited a second, hand now gently gripping the dip of her neck. "Say 'I'm special'."

"I-I'm special." She replied breathlessly. His eyes grew darker as he watched her squirm. She was dizzy now with desire. Seconds from dropping her towel and jumping his bones.

His hand that wasn't on her neck met her bottom lip, gently pulling it down. "Can I try something?" He left her mouth open, waiting for her reply.

She closed her mouth, gulping down the saliva that pooled there. She nodded and he smiled.

"Use your words."

She gulped down more saliva before speaking again

"Yes."

He gently tugged on her towel tossing it to the floor. She watched the tips of his ears turn red. Being fully clothed while she was on display like this was mind-boggling.

He opened his mouth to speak but his words were stuck in his throat. His stomach did back flips. He still didn't know how he landed someone so, "Beautiful." It was a whisper but she heard it.

He brought his fingers back up to her mouth but this time he gently shoved two fingers in her mouth. He stroked her tongue, being careful not to trigger her gag reflex.

Moaning drifted past her ears. She met his eyes, realizing it was her making those noises. She didn't know why but his fingers in her mouth pulled her closer and closer to the edge.

"Back up for me." He left his fingers against her tongue as she carefully backed further onto the bed. His knee nestled between her thighs as she settled on her back. "Gonna get you off, okay? Apologize for popping up like this."

She wanted to tell him there was no need to apologize but between her slowly slipping mind and his fingers against her tongue she simply nodded.

In an instant they were gone out of her mouth and circling her bud. She was so wound up, the first touch sent electricity through her. She trembled, frantically trying to control herself.

"Fuck Syd, didn't even need to do that." His fingers slipped easily into her. "You're so wet. So ready for me."

She nodded desperately, moving her hips, chasing an already building orgasm.

"So pretty. So pretty." He worried his bottom lip, watching her. What made her jerk, what made her moan, what made her eyes roll. "You're gonna make me cum in my pants." He huffs. "If you keep looking like that."

She clawed at his top, hands sliding up from under. She moaned his name, how could she be expected to form a clear sentence in that moment.

"Want me undressed too?" His soaked fingers rubbed her, applying just enough pressure. She feverishly nodded.

"Please." She managed to get something other than his name out of her mouth.

His touch was gone - she resisted the urge to throw a tantrum. She wanted him undressed after all. 

His chiseled body descended back on her. He immediately latched onto her neck. But he wasn't touching her like she wanted. Not like he was just seconds ago.

He soon noticed her vitriol and the fucker smiled.

"Relax," he continued kissing down her neck all the way down to her perky nipples. "I'll get you there, just missed this so much."

With each kiss he neared the place between her thighs.

Her mouth fell open once he latched onto her. Fingers slipping back into her.

With each come hither movement and each kiss worshiping her clit she moved closer and closer to the edge.

His tongue dancing in a firm circle pulling an orgasm out of her.

The feeling surprised her. This was different than all the other times. Her chest pounded and her thighs trembled. She gripped his curls and was pretty sure it made that fucker moan. She could feel the vibrations.

She loved him.

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyoufuckIloveyou

No one knew her like him. No one could do this to her but him. She didn't want anybody else to do this to her. With her.

He gently licked her, tongue slowly cleaning up her mess. He climbed up her body, nuzzling her neck.

"I love you too Syd."

Had she said that out loud?

He watched her come back to Earth, eyes low and hazy. He waited until she looked at him, clearly, to kiss her. She moaned when she tasted herself.

"You taste so good don't you?" He kissed her jaw. "Are you ready?"

She pulled him closer, far too weak and aroused to say anything.

He squeezed the base of his dick. He didn’t want to cum too fast, he wanted to relish in this. Savor it.

He exhaled as he pushed into her. He fit her so well. So easily. That stupid part of his brain preened at that. She was his.

He stilled once he bottomed out.

She was impatient. Feeling his throbbing head against that spot inside of her made her instinctively salivate. She canted her hips up, encouraging some sort of movement.

"Shit, you're" He buried his face in her neck as he began moving. Brutally. Slowly. As deep as he could get.

Her legs wrapped around him keeping him close. Needing him close. With each pound against her button she spiraled further and further into his spell. She felt drunk. In love. Dangerously so.

He groaned at her teeth digging into his shoulder, another orgasm echoed through her.

"Feel so good when you cum on my dick like that." He gripped the sheets, moving faster, more intentional - chasing his release. Her fitted sheets popped off of the corners of her mattress, rolling up under them.

She gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. She moaned in his mouth and he swallowed it.

He was so close, losing his grip on reality. On sanity. He wanted to cum inside of her. "Wanna get you pregnant." His eyes were closed, he didn't see her reaction but she clenched around him. Her legs and arms pulled him closer like a Venus flytrap devouring its prey.

"Please" she gasped gripping him tighter. "I want it."

A noise he hadn't recognized as his voice left him, muffled against her neck. He pumped inside of her, once, twice, three times so deeply he was sure they'd have a pregnancy scare. He couldn't bring himself to care though.

After cleaning up and fixing the bed he rocked her in his arms.

"We should get a Plan B." He mentioned kissing her forehead. “Or not.”

"I have an IUD." She reminded him.

He tried to hide his disappointment.

"Aw come on ya big sap, give me a kiss."

He happily obliged.

Sydney was back home and she and Carmy's relationship was on the up and up. They were working on it and things seemed to be progressing exponentially.

"Remember when I said it'd be easier for you to just ask me to marry you?"

"I do." He looked up from the document he'd been filling out. Syd long ago tried to bring Carmy into the digital age, but he was stuck in his ways. It was endearing. "What about it?"

"Is that," she hesitates, hovering over uncharted waters. "Is marriage something you ever think about?" She sat on his desk swinging her feet, too nervous to sit still or stand like a normal person. "Not with me I mean with anybody ever."

He sat his pen down, she now had his full attention. "You're the only person I ever thought about marrying." He replied openly, his hand sliding up her thigh. When he reached her belly his fingers twisted in the softness of her shirt causing her to stir and swat his hand away with a smile. 

Now he was standing before her, between her legs, caging her in with his arms. Reminiscent of their first kiss. "And maybe even some day," he breathed into her neck, planting a wet kiss there once she leaned into him. "You can take that stupid IUD out and let me put a baby in you."

Her eyes fell closed, thinking about what it'd be like to do that. She pulled back cradling his head between her hands, stars brightening her eyes.

"Let’s focus on raising this baby first before we think about any others. Imagine how fucked up it would be." She tilted her had slightly in an attempt to be snarky or maybe sarcastic, anything to alleviate the seriousness of the moment.

"Who says we can't do both?" He replied half joking half hopeful. There goes his hands again, warming her sensitive belly. "We can try before the meeting starts." He mouthed at her neck and gripped her waist, now determined to make his dreams a reality.

She chuckled "Carmen." She gently nudged him back. "Do you know what you're saying? Do you know my dad would kill you- me- no US if we got pregnant?"

"Sydney, you know you're an adult right?" He shot her a teasing grin. "Also, I'm not saying right now or any time soon. I was joking." He placated. But they both knew he wasn't really joking all that much. "It's nice to know you're open to that sorta thing."

Syd nodded still trying to calm herself down. "I think you'd make a great dad." She replied earnestly.

She admired the pink that spread across his cheeks.

Richie knocked on the door before walking in, not waiting for a response.

"Yo, cousin when you and the wife are done with your meeting the actual team meeting has started out front."

"Shut the fuck up Richie!" He replied, no real heat behind his words. "And who started the meeting?"

"Who else?" He glanced around the room with a scoff "I did, when you two fly off to la la land I pick up the slack."

"What do you teach them? The quickest way to fuck up lunch?" Sydney fired back.

"Hey that was once!" He shouted behind him, already making his way back to the meeting.

Syd followed behind him but Carmy's hand stopped her. She spun around and he pulled her against him, kissing her breathless. He rested his forehead against hers.

"You'd really marry a fuck up like me?" He glanced behind her making sure Richie was gone.

"Carmy." She sighed leaning forward and pecking him once. "What did your therapist say about self-talk?"

"Right" He nodded. "Sorry, I'm still learning."

"Don't apologize." She kissed him again, lingering longer than before. "I wouldn't want to spend my life with anybody else."

"See! I told you they're back here making out" Richie's voice drifted through the kitchen catching their attention. The rest of the staff followed behind laughing amongst themselves.

"Chefs, are you going to show them tonight's specials or do I have to?"

destiel fic library

Hi! I’m abi, and I like to bend canon to suit all my whims and fancies.

I’ve finally done a masterpost of all my fics so far, everything is Castiel/Dean Winchester but as always: check the tags. 

I mostly write canonverse, drowning in angst, and preferably explicit.

Always a happy ending.

15k+:

finale fix-it set after 15x19 > conversations with you (M)

dean is cursed by a djinn > this bitter nightcall (E)

castiel is human, but they aren’t on speaking terms; two person love triangle set in s9 > salt & iron (E, written for DCBB ‘22)

AU 15k+:

coffeeshop au; librarian castiel is tasked with fixing up his dad’s bookshop, and barista dean from next door helps > the barista and the bookshop (E, written for Pinefest ‘23)

serial killer au; sam is dead and dean needs a place to rest up, he answers a ‘roommate wanted’ advertisement stuck to the window of a coffee shop and meets professor castiel > like ivy (E, written for DeanCasHorrorfest ‘23)

one-shots: 

cas gives dean a shoulder massage > touch-starved (M)

flirting behaviour > dean and cas play nsfw scrabble (M)

post-confession reunion > kissing is the most fun dean winchester can have without taking his clothes off (but it’s better if he does) (E)

collections/series’:

dean gives cas the mixtape > dean and cas - mixtape collection (G,M,E)

various smut > spoiler alert: they fuck (E)

g: general m: mature e: explicit

Imagine being the only human at a monster market and everyone is obsessed with you. They insist on you setting a kissing booth to "get a bit more money" than selling your usual human bread. When you finally give in, the line is so long you can't see the end of it. You kiss so many monsters you lose track of what is what or who is who. You promised it was only going to be a one time thing, but you can't stop thinking about how many tongues where shoved back your throat, how many textured lips and wild hands grabbed your hair... You can't stop thinking what else would they do to you. That gets you so hot under the collar that you have masturbated about that idea way too many times. Maybe you could try again. Maybe you get a bit frisky and let them touch you a bit more. Maybe some of them can't hold themselves back and grope you. Maybe a traveling hand fingerfucks you in the middle of the market with everyone looking. And maybe your booth becomes the talk of the market and even more monsters come to see you. Come to touch you. Maybe you can upgrade to a sex booth...

series masterlist:

a collection of one-shots where steve falls for the new girl in town

part 1 ✿ new neighbour

steve is down because of his dating life, or lack thereof. that is until the new girl captures his attention

part 2 ✿ built to last

steve was just supposed to help you build a bookshelf. he definitely wasn’t supposed to have this much fun doing it

part 3 ✿ for you? always

you’re unravelling, badly, but steve refuses to let you fall apart alone

part 4 ✿ stay for dinner?

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

part 5 ✿ never second best 18+

after a run-in with his ex, steve reassures you that you'll never be second best, proving it in a way he knows will stick

part 6 ✿ jealous much? 18+

steve may not be the jealous type, but when he sees someone else eyeing his girl, he’s more than happy to remind you exactly who takes care of you the best

𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿 ᯓᡣ𐭩 𝗱𝗮𝗱!𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻

you and Steve attempt to wrangle your ever-growing family. mom!reader, dad!steve

all in one place — newest first all in one place — written order

the first fic steve dotes while you’re pregnant with your first you have your very first baby your toddler makes a huge mess steve makes you cry being a great dad you find out you’re pregnant with your third steve gets his girls valentine’s gifts dove says her first word you celebrate dove’s second birthday you and steve are connected steve unravels on avery’s first day of school steve teaches avery to ride her bike avery learns about divorce steve is jealous of your mommy-daughter date steve has a really hard day with the kids steve sends you a drink from the bar the girls fall asleep early steve takes care of his sick family you go on your first big family vacation the harrington’s go poolside

steve makes the girls laugh uncle eddie visits steve and beth catch you working at night you’re startled when dove cusses emphatically steve gets upset and scares dove steve falls a little more in love with you steve defends beth from his rude mom steve gets home to his girls after a day apart the family celebrates the Fourth of July kisses before dinner the girls are so cute you cry you argue with steve when things get overwhelming avery doesn’t feel like anyone’s favourite avery worries that pregnancy will hurt you you try to get comfy with your bump steve loves his pregnant wreck of a wife you can’t deal with being away from steve you and steve take a babymoon you bring the new baby home steve tries to think of a name for the new baby

the girls try to help you with the new baby you go on a post-baby date avery reassures you of your great parenting the harrington’s get ready for halloween the harrington's start preparing for christmas you and steve argue about christmas jammies the harrington’s celebrate new year’s eve the girls end up in bed with you one by one the harrington’s gets ready for a dinner party steve bumps into his estranged mom at the store you and steve have some rare time alone steve feels amazingly content you comfort dove after a nightmare steve comforts you when you’re insecure you mediate a fight between avery and beth you take the girls back to school shopping you and steve comfort beth when she feels weird steve nearly cries when beth makes a friend the girls love steve’s home improvements beth spends some time in the hospital

you recuperate after beth’s hospital stay steve falters during beth’s recovery you coax beth in to eating on a hard day family movie night begins bedtime at the harrington house steve is overwhelmed with love at dinner you celebrate another mother’s day you celebrate another father’s day you gather the consensus on a fifth baby bump five emerges

note: this masterlist is my attempt at a chronological timeline, but the fics were written out of order, so there may be things that don’t line up

The Knight & The Judge

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, smut, angst, domination and humiliation kink, description of physical and mental disabilities, prejudices against disabled people, aggressive behavior, violence, swearing, trauma, mention of an accident with fatalities ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 2 − The Sin & The Penance Part 3 − The Doubt & The Delight Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

On that day it seemed to him that the whole world had turned against him. His coffee machine had broken down, there was more traffic than usual on the roads and he was sure he would be late for work, and his brother had woken up in a mood worse than always and cried all the way to the centre.

"I don't want to go there. I-I'm scared of some of those kids." He muttered under his breath, swallowing loudly, whooping with tears. He looked at him in the mirror, feeling a squeeze in his throat every morning when he left him there, but saw no other alternative.

He still hadn't recovered mentally after what had happened five years ago and, according to his psychiatrist, he wasn't ready to attend a normal school until he gained more confidence.

He did not want to force him to listen to unpleasant comments, however, he felt uncomfortable himself.

The centre was huge, classes were taught in different groups of matched children, however, there were times when Daeron encountered kids with a spectrum of disabilities other than physical and was simply afraid of them.

He tried to explain it to him, but how was a child supposed to understand these complicated, sometimes even uncontrollable behaviours and screams?

He swallowed hard, leaning the back of his head against the backrest, turning on the right indicator with his hand, driving into the car park of the building where he would leave him for the time he spent at work, during which he studied and had various extra classes with children with problems similar to his.

However, was he to surround himself all his life only with children who had mobility problems, who had no arms or legs, who suffered from paresis or lack of feeling in their limbs?

Every time he thought about it he wanted to cry.

He turned off the engine, staring dully ahead, hearing his mother's screams again in the background of his mind as his father fainted behind the wheel and drove off the road into the other lane, he felt once again that hard crash with the big truck coming from the opposite direction that crushed them.

They were only alive because they were in the back seats at the time, Daeron, however, was not as lucky as he was.

Compared to what happened to his younger brother, the glass that smashed into the left side of his face was nothing.

"Mrs Thomson said you can't spend all day at home doing one-to-one tuition. You have to see other children." He calmly repeated the formula he said whenever such a situation arose, opening his door, heading for the boot of his big black SUV, the car dealership had told him it was the safest and biggest model they had.

He took out the small wheelchair that had been put together and unfolded it, driving it closer, to the back seat where his brother sat, opening it, he looked away, unable to watch his brother's weeping face.

"I'm already late for work. Please. I promise we'll play FIFA' 23 together when we get back. Hm?" He muttered, and Daeron nodded, pale, breathing loudly, using his hands to move slowly towards the wheelchair onto which he shifted the weight of his body, hissing loudly as he lifted his legs onto the special supports.

The bones of his little legs had been simply crushed then, he continued to grow, the rehabilitation was hard and caused him great pain.

He would have preferred it to be him who suffered like this and not an innocent child, but God, who he wasn't sure he still believed in despite the deep faith his mother had always instilled in him, decided otherwise.

He closed the car and moved with him to the main entrance, pushing his wheelchair forward, when they got inside they were greeted by a lady they knew very well, several of his friends waved to Daeron, one of them was paralysed from the waist down, the other was missing one arm.

He swallowed loudly, thinking that his brother had to watch someone else's misfortune every day, himself for sure feeling like a cripple, like someone defective, someone who was a burden, even though he loved him the most in the world.

The cruelty of the situation left him with a clenched throat, so he would usually only throw him a few words to say goodbye, stroke his head and leave, only by the car tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, his healthy eye burning from the moisture that gathered under his eyelids.

As he always did in moments of breakdown, he started the engine, selected the number of his sister phone on the display under his dashboard and, turning on loudspeaker mode, started backing his car as he tried to drive out of the car park and drove ahead towards the national prosecutor's office.

"Hello? Aemond, did something happen?"

He heard Helaena's soft, sleepy voice, he knew she was still doing overtime as a doctor, overworking herself as much as he was, he thought that he had woken her up after the night shift.

He felt remorse for not being able to handle it himself, although she always reassured him that she would always help him as best she could.

She got Daeron the best possible physiotherapist so that he was even able to take a few steps in the last month while holding on to his supports, however it still caused him great pain, the doctors said his bones would continue to hurt as long as he grew.

Perpetual undeserved suffering.

"I don't know what to do anymore. He says he is afraid of some of the children, those with intellectual disabilities. I know it's cruel, but fuck, I'd be scared of some of them too. Do they have to see each other in the same building, pass each other in the corridor? Shouldn't they be separated somehow?"

"God, Aemond, they're not animals. After all, they're children too." She said with sadness and resentment; he clenched his eye, sighing impatiently, trying to focus on the road again, tense.

"I know. I know. I really feel for them, but it's bad for his psyche. He recently asked me if he was normal, if he too would start shouting and babbling like them. That sometimes they are aggressive and the carers have to drag them away from him and his friends."

"It's horrible. Maybe he really should go there less often?" She asked sighing quietly, he heard her rise up on the bed with a quiet creak of the mattress.

"And what, he's going to sit at home with some boring old teacher? How will I know that no harm comes to him in my absence?" He asked resignedly, hearing silence on the other side for some time.

"Maybe find someone who won't be very distant in age. Someone who won't just teach him, but play with him and spend time with him. Someone old enough to be responsible for him and at the same time young enough not to feel so distant. Someone joyful." She replied, and he rolled his eyes as he drove into the underground car park of his office building.

"Joyful? I am supposed to pay someone to be joyful?" He sneered, shaking his head, his sister sighed again.

"He needs it, Aemond. We're all tired, and he's a child."

He hung up after a few minutes of further discussion, telling her he had to go, grabbed the case folders he'd just brought in and headed for the underground lift. He pressed the button showing the floor he wanted to move to when a woman's hand stopped the sliding doors, which opened a moment later.

Alys smiled broadly at him as she stepped inside with a confident stride, her high black heels emphasised how slender and long her legs were, her fitted, waist high pencil trousers and black blazer with a beautiful white shirt underneath highlighted both her confidence and her attractiveness.

He remembered the last few times the thrusts of his hips had pushed her into her desk, bent over and helpless, with firm, wide buttocks on which he tightened his fingers as he panted heavily, watching what he was doing to her, rooting into her again and again, he thought with mockery and amusement how easy it was to make a mere whore out of such a proud woman.

"Good morning, Mr Prosecutor." She said softly, contentment and calmness on her face, several of their intense close-ups had clearly left an intense mark in her, not just physical.

She liked the violent and determined ones, he knew that, she hid her age well and apparently decided that this was the last moment in her life when she could reach for what she wanted.

"Good morning, Miss Rivers." He replied calmly, uninterested in her ambiguous look, apparently suggesting that she wouldn't mind if what happened between them was repeated a few more times.

He was all about the sex. He was frustrated in this aspect, his artificial eye, although perfectly colour-matched to the other and the still clearly visible scar from where the glass pierced in, were a source of his complexes and shame, he knew that no matter how perfect a professional he was, it was his appearance that made the first impression.

In the courtroom he still struggled to be taken seriously so much so that his cold, calculating, ruthless nature began to frighten some, his judgement and questioning was harsh and lacking in compassion, he knew exactly what he wanted and strove to get it.

He preferred them to fear him rather than pity him.

His superiors quickly appreciated how skilful a lawyer he was and his ability to bring cases to an end and push whoever he needed to, hence he quickly moved to the National Prosecutor's Office, where more responsibilities and more money awaited him, which he could spend on Daeron's rehabilitation.

As he sat over the files he thought hard about what his sister had told him and decided that he would install CCTV in the house and then hire someone on a trial basis to see if it made sense.

He put up an anonymous job ad not wanting anyone to recognise him, described briefly his broad expectations and his rate per hour.

It turned out that dozens of people responded to his ad, just as he suspected attracted by the sum he had quoted, but he didn't know how he was supposed to sort them to choose the ones that seemed best to him. He began to read their answers, figuring that already from them he could deduce what types of personalities they were.

I am interested. My phone number is below.

Reject, he thought, clicking the red button informing the message sender that his offer was not accepted, and began to scroll further.

I am a carer with 10 years of experience. I have already cared for 14-year-old Mike with cerebral palsy, Adam with….

Reject, he clicked again.

He had no intention of making his home a second centre for the disabled.

He felt frustration and rage when he found that most of the messages were similar and just as empty in their tone, nothing convinced him about these people, he knew Daeron wouldn't want to stay with them, and neither would he.

He stopped at one of the messages that looked completely different and blinked.

Good morning! I saw your ad and thought I would speak up. I'm a student, I'm studying costume design at the Faculty of Fine Arts. I'm looking for a casual job and I really enjoy working with children, I teach dressmaking as part of the teaching section of my university classes. I think that helping your brother with his studies at primary school level would be no problem for me at all, and I would also be happy to come up with different extra-curricular activities with him. Even if you decide not to hire me, I would like to sew your brother a costume of his favourite super hero, without any payment of course. You would just have to give me his measurements. I don't think anything makes kids his age happier!!! My warmest regards and I am sending my email below.

He looked at her message not too sure how he felt, at the same time being impressed, on the other hand feeling the seed of uncertainty and extreme caution characteristic of him when it came to his approach to newly met people.

What if this was a psychological tactic to make him believe her to be innocent and unselfish? To make him subconsciously choose her because she was the only one offering him something for free? If it was just her free promotion?

He chose two people reluctantly, but kept coming back to her message, trying to imagine her, seeing some crazy painting student looking like a hippie.

Maybe this was just what he needed? He thought with regret and sighed heavily, opening a new window in his inbox, writing her a short, brief email to appear at their house in a few days' time.

He was going to interrogate her.

The young man before her immediately made him uneasy, he had the impression that he smelled weed from him even though he had taken a shower, so he must have been smoking like crazy, and he had no intention of letting anyone who might encourage him to use any stimulants look after his brother.

The other girl was very frightened, his questions clearly startled her and made her uncomfortable, it frustrated him that she was barely able to make a sound. He thought she had something to hide, that people who have a clear conscience don't behave this way.

He thought with resignation that all he had left was a mad artist.

He sighed heavily as he heard the bell ring suggesting that someone was standing outside the gate. He walked over to the intercom and opened it, seeing in the small monitor a petite girl with dark, slightly wavy hair tied up in a ponytail, he thought in disbelief that she was dressed for a job interview in a white turtleneck, dungarees and trainers, a fabric floral back on her back.

What the fuck, he thought, opening her door with a cold, indifferent expression on his face.

"Good afternoon." She said softly, a wide smile on her face, before she walked in she wiped her shoes on the doormat, which pleased him, when she came inside she wanted to take off her trainers, he looked at her surprised, thinking she must be crazy.

"No, you don't have to. You can stay in your shoes." He said lowly, pointing towards the armchair, indicating to her with his hand the seat on the couch next to him.

She sat down in the seat he showed her, looking boldly straight into his eyes, her cheeks rosy with emotion, she was clearly a tad nervous after all, he thought, musing for a moment that she had incredibly long, dark eyelashes.

"Do you have experience in working with children?" He asked immediately, she blinked and corrected herself in her seat, as if prepared for the question.

"Only in terms of working with them in sewing workshops." She answered simply, without any further explanation, which pleased him.

She was letting him draw his own conclusions, rather than imposing them on him so as to present herself in the most favourable light.

"My brother has mobility problems. How do you imagine helping him, for example, if he needs to go to the bathroom?"

"I think he's old enough that he can tell me himself what he'll need help with and what he won't, and what he'll feel comfortable for me to help him with and when he'll want me to leave." She said without thinking, shrugging her shoulders as if it was obvious, he squinted, intrigued that she was allowing herself to say unthoughtful things in front of him, as if she wasn't afraid of the consequences they might bring.

"And your studies? How will you have so much time to come here?"

"From what I understand, I would be expected to turn up on Tuesdays and Thursdays from eight in the morning until sixteen. I have practice classes then, the costumes I'm sewing I can bring with me and finish them while he's eating or watching something, maybe he'll even like it and want to practice with me?"

"What will you do if I don't hire you?" He asked dryly and she looked at him surprised, a light smile on her face indicating that his words didn't worry her.

"Then I will continue to work in the café. But my words about the superhero costume stand. Even if I can't work for you, sir, I would like to meet him and give him something. Children can be so brave." She said softly with sincere, bright joy and some kind of pride, as if Daeron was her brother and not his, something in her innocence, something in her attitude endeared him.

He could smell a lie a mile away, she wouldn't be able to pretend so well even if she were an actress.

These reactions were natural, she was saying exactly what she was thinking about.

"I will contact you once I have made my decision." He said indifferently, getting up from his seat and pointing with his hand towards the exit, suggesting that their conversation was over.

She stood up and smiled, undaunted by his behaviour or the length of their conversation, both of them flinching when Daeron appeared in the living room, pushing the wheels of his wheelchair with a light flick of his hand.

"Good afternoon. Who is this lady?" His younger brother asked him, obvious curiosity on his face, he swallowed loudly and glanced at her, he saw that she answered nothing but waved at him vigorously, Daeron smiled shyly and waved her back, embarrassed.

"No one. I needed to talk to her." He replied, opening the door for her, she said a polite goodbye to him and his brother, waving at him once more, Daeron waved her back again, looking at him with questioning eyes as he closed it.

"I like her. She seems fun."

With no other choice, he decided he would give her a chance.

The first day she was to be left alone with Daeron he was all nerves despite the fact that his little brother hadn't seemed this excited to him in many years. He told him about his toys and the cartoons he was going to show her.

"First the lessons. Then two hours to play and free time." He replied dryly, tense, glancing at his watch, thinking with rage that she only had fifteen minutes left, that she was sure to be late or not come and leave him in the lurch when he had already cancelled his presence at the centre's classes.

They both flinched when they heard the bell ring, Daeron said, moving briskly forward in his wheelchair that he wanted to open for her and indeed, after a moment the girl he had hired appeared on the doorstep of their house, smiling and content, her cheeks flushed again, her dark hair loose, pleasantly framing her bright face, on her body only a black top and tracksuit shorts, it was a sunny, warm spring morning.

"Good morning, Daeron, nice to meet you!" She said with fondness and satisfaction in her voice, extending her hand in front of her, which his brother shook confidently, Daeron moved ahead of her, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"Come, I'll show you my room. I'll explain everything to you." He said, rolling his wheelchair up to the door, which was located on the ground floor of their house so that he could move around easily, the girl nodded, pulling her trainers off her feet, saying that she will come to him in a minute.

He took the opportunity to walk up to her, towering over her, and she threw him a quick surprised look, he thought her eyes seemed even bigger than before, he wasn't sure if they were blue or green, both colours blending into one.

"You are to take care of him. I want you to go through all the material that was prepared for today. Only two hours of free time, no more. Behave responsibly and only call if it's really urgent or if something happens to him." He said matter-of-factly, and she swallowed quietly, nodding quickly, clearly horrified by how close he stood and how cold his voice was.

Good, he thought.

He wanted her to be afraid of the consequences of her actions.

He sat in the office all day terrified, stressed and unsure, trying to focus on the file in front of him, while involuntarily still glancing at his phone, checking to see if she might have called him.

Was everything okay? What if something had happened but she was afraid to call him? Maybe he should go home and test her, see what was going on?

He thought he would go mad if he didn't, so he left work an hour early, Alys threw something at him as he walked past her, probably something about a meeting or an evening out together, but he didn't answer her, heading for the stairs and the underground car park.

He drove forward, trying to calm himself down, thinking about how oversensitive he was, that surely everything was fine.

He pulled up in front of their house hearing music in the distance, wondering if any of the neighbours were having a party outside at this hour.

However, as he pressed the key to the gate and it slowly swung open he saw in disbelief the girl he had hired riding with lightness and grace on roller skates in his driveway to the tune of the Scissor Sisters song I Don't Feel Like Dancin', Daeron laughed out loud, spinning beside her in his wheelchair, both of them wearing elbow and knee pads, in addition to his little brother wearing a bike helmet on his head.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He got out of the car, furiously slamming the door, his brother wheeled up to him briskly, his companion spinning slowly around them on roller skates, she raised her eyebrows with a smile, seeing the look on his face and waved at him.

"Look how well I dance, brother!" Exclaimed Daeron, spinning the wheels of his wheelchair around his own axis again.

He, however, instead of looking at him grabbed aggressively the arm of his carer who was doing another spin, she nearly fell over because of his tug and caught him abruptly by his jacket in an attempt to catch her balance.

"Ah!"

"What the fuck are you doing? Is this what I pay you for?" He growled and shook her hard, she stared at him with wide-open eyes, her lips slightly parted in accelerated breathing from fear, her face red from exertion, strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks.

"Let me go, sir. I will not speak to you like this." She said warningly, her brow furrowed, he pressed his lips together noticing that something had changed in her gaze, suddenly confident and angry, ready to fight if necessary.

He felt that look in his trousers, he'd never had the urge to slap a woman's ass as hard as hers before.

He glanced at his brother, who was looking at him in horror, only realising after a moment that the song had long since ended and there was a tense, awkward silence around them.

He let go of her arm, seeing with satisfaction that he had left a bruise on her skin in the shape of his fingers, she massaged at the spot, furrowing her brow.

"You're fired. You're irresponsible. Good thing I came back earlier." He said with mockery and fury, walking over to his brother, unbuckling the helmet he wore on his head, Daeron burst into a loud, uncontrollable sob.

"I don't want to. I don't want to, I don't want to go back there, I want to stay with her. It's my fault, I told her I wanted to dance, please, please, please, I want her to stay, I don't want to go back there." He babbled, running his hands over his shoulders in some helpless, childish pleading gesture from which he felt a squeeze in his throat, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her gaze fixed on his little brother, sad and resigned, she was leaning over, untying the laces of the roller skates that had once belonged to his sister.

"Something could have happened to you. You could have fallen over and hit your head on the ground." He replied coldly, kneeling in front of him, unbuckling his knee pads.

"But I had a helmet on my head. After all, normal boys fall off bikes and stairs and they're fine! Nothing would have happened if I'd bruised myself a bit, I'm not made of glass!" He burst out suddenly with a fury he had never seen in him before, burying his little face in his hands, all red from tears and despair.

"I won't go back there, I won't go there tomorrow, if she doesn't stay, never, never again, I'd rather kill myself!" He whined out loud, falling into another attack of hysteria in recent months, he had trouble catching his breath, his lungs were wheezing all over, he took his face in his hands, but he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at him.

God, why?

"Remember what I told you?" She asked walking up to his brother in just her socks, kneeling beside him, grasping his hand, Daeron immediately fell silent, looking at her with wide eyes.

"That boy who calls you Quasimodo is just mean. You are my Phoebus, you have his beautiful hair, humour and valour. I'll sew us costumes and we'll go to the carnival ball together. His jaw will drop when he sees that you came with your Esmeralda. What do you say?" She asked softly, and he looked at her in disbelief, wondering if that was the reason his little brother didn't want to go there.

That boy who calls you Quasimodo.

He felt a twitch in his throat and swallowed loudly, his brother nodding quickly, drawing in air loudly, his eyes full of hope.

"Promise?" He asked in a trembling voice, and she smiled broadly, sincerely, squeezing his small hand.

"Promise."

They entered their house as his brother calmed down, he told Daeron to go to his room and leave them alone, which his brother eventually did with great reluctance, crying for a while longer, not wanting to say goodbye to her.

As soon as he heard the door close behind him at the end of the corridor he slipped his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers, took out a few banknotes and threw them on the table in front of her in a careless gesture.

"Get the fuck out of my house." He said coldly, looking her straight in the eye, he saw her lower lip twitch, the pain of humiliation in her gaze, her eyebrows arched in disbelief that such words had left his mouth.

He wasn't paying her to make a circus of herself dancing like some fucking Esmeralda, exposing his brother to danger and injury.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and trembled with rage as she took the money and tossed it in his direction, the banknotes flying scattered around his feet.

"You could dress up as Frollo for the carnival ball, sir. It would suit you." She said drily, turning away tensely, he moved behind her, feeling the anger buzzing strongly in his veins at her words.

He grabbed her by the neck with an aggressive flick of his hand and slammed her back against the wall, her voice stuck in her throat in horror, her big, bright eyes open wide in disbelief.

He took a step closer to her, feeling her warm body quiver all over in his grasp, he dug his fingertips deeper into her skin finding with delight that she was obscenely soft.

"Do you have anything else to say?" He asked in a low whisper filled with threat, she shook her head quickly clearly feeling the situation was out of her control, obviously fearing if he was really going to do something to her.

"No, are you sure? I'm listening to you. Tell me something else interesting about me." He said softly, encouragingly, moving even closer to her, the tips of their noses almost touching.

He could finally get a good look at her, he found curiously that he still couldn't tell what colour her eyes were, now slightly reddened from tears of fear.

She shook her head quickly, not making a sound, all he could hear was their quickened, raspy breaths, her hand touched his wrist as if she wanted to make sure he didn't strangle her, he was somehow delighted by how delicate, long and slender her fingers were, he felt a pleasant pulsing in his trousers at the thought.

"Look at you. So silly. Because you're a silly little girl, aren't you? You would benefit from someone teaching you a lesson. No? Then apologise and I'll let you go and pretend I never met you." He said calmly, her whole body quivering with terror.

"Never." She said quietly, and he felt involuntarily that his lips curved in a dangerous, satisfied grin, his fingers clenching tighter around her neck.

"You're asking for trouble, Esmeralda." He muttered lowly, her nostrils twitching in accelerated breath.

"I will report what you are doing to the police." She said dryly and he smiled even wider, he felt her tremble all over as he leaned over her ear, his nose sinking into her soft, flower-scented hair, he closed his eyes and savoured the experience for a moment before whispering something she froze from.

"I am a prosecutor −"

Her hand clenched tighter on his wrist, a moan of despair escaping her lips, as if what he had said had really shocked her, as if she was only now realising what she had gotten herself into.

"− and I've never lost a case yet." He whispered in her ear, sliding his face lower, to her jaw and then to her neck, pressing his full lips to her skin, leaving wet, hot marks on it, he heard her draw in a loud breath.

"− w-what are you doing, sir? − no −" She whimpered, he felt her lift her arms up in a defensive gesture, trying to pull away from him, but he pressed her against the wall with his body, letting go of her neck, his manhood throbbing hard in his trousers, pressing again and again against her stomach.

She felt it, a terrified cry escaped her lips as his lips pressed tightly against her neck and he began to suck painfully hard on her skin, wanting to leave her a crimson reminder of himself.

"− how did you put it? − who do I remind you of? −" He asked tauntingly, running his rough tongue over her red skin, feeling the veins pulsing rapidly under her soft, warm skin.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry − please, please let me go −" She mumbled out in despair on the verge of crying, her voice trembling all over in terror, her breathing raspy and uneven, her small hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck that he wore under his jacket.

He gasped at her words, sliding his mouth lower, repeating the same process, rubbing against her with his hips, his cock all swollen and hard, pulsing with pleasure, his hands roaming down her back, sliding at last to her buttocks where they clenched.

"− look at you − so you can be polite after all, hm? −" He asked softly, lowering the material of her tracksuit shorts a little, his large hand grasping her plump, firm buttocks and slapping it hard, she clamped her lips together, trying to hold back the whimper that squeezed its way down her throat.

"− that's what I thought − turn around and let's get this over with −" He murmured, soothingly massaging the place that was now pulsing from his slap, grinning as she did so wordlessly, tears of helplessness and fear on her cheeks.

"− please −" She muttered and he sighed softly, sliding the material of her shorts and underwear down, revealing what was underneath, she shuddered and wept quietly as the tips of his fingers ran over her swollen folds, focusing their pressure on her sweet spot hidden between them, digging into her fleshy skin in circular, calm motions.

"− shhh − this way it will be easier for both of us −" He explained in a soft tone of voice, as if he was telling her something obvious, as if it would benefit her in the future and teach her something.

He heard her shy moan full of fear, then another, a tad louder as his fingers sank more firmly into her skin, he licked his lips at the sight of the wetness that began to leak slowly from inside her, he slapped his hand with a short, rough movement into the space between her thighs.

"− quiet −" He ordered, and she pressed her lips together, stifling whatever wanted to come out of them. Daeron was far away, locked in his room, but he still preferred him not to hear anything, and he didn't have the time or desire to take her upstairs to his bedroom.

This situation, her bent figure and her lovely buttocks pushed up towards him, suited him completely.

"− good girl − see? − it's not that hard −" He murmured pleased with how obedient she was despite the fear and terror from which her whole body was twitching, confident movements of his fingers were accompanied by the louder and louder click of her moisture, her cheek pressed against the cold wall where her hands were helplessly trying to find support in this position, her eyes closed as if she just wanted to wait it out.

She opened them when she heard the sound of his zipper being opened, her lips pressed together with difficulty as he guided the fat, swollen head of his throbbing cock against her opening, leaning with his free hand against the wall just above her head, trying to force it between her tight folds with the motion of his hips.

"− wider − that's it, there you go −" He exhaled as she opened her thighs a little more and he spread her wide on his cock, feeling her muscles gave him a wonderful squeeze, he sighed loudly, surprised at how pleasurable the sensation was.

"− fuck −" He hissed out, clamping his hands on her buttocks, spreading them like a ripe fruit, she squirmed in discomfort as he forced her to take him deeper inside her, he was filling her so much that he felt like he was going to rip her skin apart.

"− barely fits −" He scoffed, moving his hips back and forth with a splat of her moisture dripping down her thighs, he heard her begin to pant along with him, he deliberately rubbed against her lower wall just above her very entrance, teasing the spot inside her from which her whole body was quivering.

"− here? − do you want me to fuck you here, little one? −" He gasped as he stretched her skin enough to fit all of him inside her, rooting into her again and again with increasingly brutal thrusts of his hips, digging his fingertips into her buttocks, looking at the spot where their bodies joined, at her muscles clenching against him greedily in panic, sucking him inside.

"− please −" She cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, her lips parted in disbelief at how pleasurable and terrifying the experience was, he sank his hand into her soft, dark hair and tilted her head back, burying his nose in the hot skin of her cheek, speeding up, stretching her weeping folds with a loud, lewd slaps of his thighs against her buttocks.

"− use full sentences −" He commanded, his other hand from her hip slid down between her thighs, she squirmed helplessly as his fingers sank again into her fleshy skin, sticky from her moisture, teasing her clit with circular, slow motions.

"− here − fuck me here, sir −" She mumbled with difficulty in a voice trembling with exertion, her cheeks all red, the beautiful curls of her dark hair clinging to her sweaty face, he felt with satisfaction as her hips began to respond to his eager thrusts.

"− good girl − that's my good girl −" He breathed out with a quiet groan of pleasure, seeing and feeling her walls squeeze his fat cock at his praise, he licked his lips thinking that Alys had never responded to him the way she did, so frightened and aroused at the same time, relying only on his mercy, his goodwill.

"− you understand that this is necessary, don't you? − that you need to be taught a lesson −" He muttered, feeling that he was losing his temper, thrusting into her so fast that he was barely slipping out of her, slamming into her again and again, his cock throbbing with desire, signalling to him that his peak was coming, her wonderful scent filling his lungs.

"− y-yes − yes, I'm sorry −" She mumbled out, he wasn't sure if she was saying what he wanted to hear or if she really believed it herself for a second, but she clamped her eyelids shut and spread her mouth wide, helpless, girlish, sweet moan of relief burst from her throat as she came, sucking and squeezing his cock, soaking it in her moisture, he sighed in relief when, after a few desperate, deep slaps he spilled inside her, feeling the wave of hot pleasure shake his body.

"− fuck − oh, God, little one −" He muttered, their bodies involuntarily moving for a moment longer, wanting to prolong this surprisingly shocking experience, both of them panting embarrassingly loudly, her body trembling all over, if his arm hadn't been holding her around the waist she would have fallen for sure, her legs completely numb.

He looked down at their joined bodies, his half-hard, throbbing manhood sinking into her again and again, all sticky from his semen and her wetness.

He swallowed loudly, sliding out of her slowly, realising now what he had actually done to her, heard her quiet hiss of discomfort and sigh of relief, her face flushed from exertion and tears.

"− are you all right? −" He asked in a trembling voice, quickly zipping up his trousers, her shaking hands slipping her underwear and shorts back onto her buttocks.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled in embarrassment, horror and disbelief, not looking at him, in some automatic gesture reaching for her trainers, putting them quickly on her feet.

"Come back on Thursday as we agreed before." He muttered, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart and the panic rising inside him, a complete void in his mind.

What had he done?

"I can assure you that you will never see me again." She whispered in a trembling, broken voice, quickly put her backpack on her back and walked out, slamming the door, leaving him with complete silence, remorse and horror.

He pressed his forehead against the wall, hiding his face in his hands, and burst into tears like a small child.

How could he treat a strange, innocent girl like this?

What if she didn't take her pills, what if she got pregnant?

How could he have been so irresponsible?

What if she really does report it to the police?

I'll destroy her, he thought with a bitter certainty that, after a moment, turned again into terror, regret and shame.

He grabbed his phone quickly and dialled her number, wanting to beg her forgiveness, but she didn't answer. He sat down on the couch and drew in the air loudly, devastated, not recognising himself, realising what kind of man he was.

He laughed desperately, shaking his head, thinking with painful amusement how well she had judged him.

He didn't even have to pretend.

He was like Frollo.

_____

Author's note: Many of you may believe that Quasimodo is the best and most worthy of imitation character, not Phoebus, and this is true when it comes to the book, but I assume that if anything, Daeron at this age has only seen a Disney fairy tale, in which Phoebus is a handsome man with a noble heart. The whole idea of this scene, in which the heroine says that he will be her Phoebus and she will be his Esmeralda, is that Daeron wants to see himself not only as a person with a disability, but as someone handsome, a warrior that a woman could love one day. It's easy to understand how children's minds work and why his works this way, and his "Esmeralda" only wants to help him become the person he wants to be and encourages him not to give up on these dreams and this self-image.

_____

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