Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, allusions to sex
Wordcount: 6.1k
A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?
PART 3 | this path is reckless (and I like it)
Six o’clock finally came torturously slowly, the minutes on the clock passing like molasses. At five minutes-to, the bell above the door rang, and Steve strolled in. He caught your eye to where you stood behind the counter, and nodded. You shot him a small smile, but felt your stomach turn - whether it was excitement or anxiety, you couldn’t quite tell. But, you couldn’t deny that you were happy to see him. You felt stupid, considering that he had explicitly said he wasn’t planning on asking you out - but, what else could it be?
As soon as Steve saw you making your way over, he smiled briefly, before nodding to the chair across from him. He already had ordered two coffees - one for himself, which he was halfway through, and a cappuccino, right at your seat.
“Hey there,” you said, feigning a casual and friendly air as you sat down. “Oh, um, thanks - you really didn’t need to order me anything.”
“Hey there,” you said, feigning a casual and friendly air as you sat down. “Oh, um, thanks - you really didn’t need to order me anything.”
He shrugged. “I figured you might be tired - I took a wild guess about what you liked, though. Don’t feel like you have to drink it if you don’t want -”
“No, it’s great,” you assured. “I could probably do with a pick-me-up, anyways. Long day.”
“Okay, good,” he said. It was silent again for a moment, both of you just pretending to be incredibly interested in your drinks instead of each other, waiting for the other to say something. You already knew that this wasn’t a date. But, even worse, it didn’t feel like one at all - it felt more like a business meeting, between two strangers. Then again, isn’t that what you were?
You could only stand the anticipation for so long - you were many things, but patient wasn’t one of them.
“So… what did you want to talk to me about?” you asked. “Is this about last night? Because, i was pretty drunk, so - if you didn’t want me to kiss you, I’m sorry, that was my fault… I might’ve misread things, but if you aren’t interested, that’s fine - you’ve been more than nice, and I didn’t want you to think that I -”
“Why are you living in Italy?” he asked.
Not what you expected. Still, it was fair enough - beyond tourists, you were probably the first American he had encountered here.
“Oh - well… that’s kind of a long story.”
He shrugged again. “I’d love to hear it, if you want to tell me, that is.”
You thought for a moment, placing your mug on the table as you decided exactly which details to disclose to him.
“Well… my home life… let’s just say, it wasn’t great. I grew up in a tiny town in upstate New York, and… I mean, I knew I always wanted to get out of there. So, I applied to colleges as far as possible - mostly big cities, like New York, Boston, Chicago, even out in California. I didn’t plan on leaving the States, necessarily - but I applied to the American University of Rome, just for kicks, since I knew they offered a U.S.-accredited degree. I didn’t think I’d get in, let alone actually go. But, they made a great offer - basically a full ride. And, it got me as far from home as possible. So I left, and never really looked back. And now, I only have one semester left, which is pretty crazy, but… I’m glad I did it.”
It felt nice, to actually get that off of your chest - Robin was one of the only people you really ever talked about this stuff with. There was a lot still left unmentioned, but it still made the man across from you seem less like a stranger, like someone you could maybe trust.
“Was it hard? Moving to a whole other country, I mean?”
He was asking sincerely, but you were still wary as you answered.
“Yes, and no,” you admitted. “There was definitely a culture shock - I had to learn a lot about the city, the people, and a whole new language. But, it really is great here. And, I’m glad I found Robin - someone from home, kind of. But, it’s been… a lot of work.”
He raised an eyebrow. “In what way?”
You sighed, measuring your words carefully.
“I’ve done pretty well in school, but I didn’t know that Rome was one of the most expensive cities in the world until after I moved here. I mean, I scraped together most of the money I had just to buy my plane ticket. And, campus housing was expensive, so I bounced between hostels and friends’ couches my first couple of years, until I was able to save up a little. That took a bit, too - turns out Italy doesn’t have a set minimum wage, either. Who knew right?”
You chuckled dryly at that last part, and winced inwardly - that was far too much information, and he didn’t need to know any of that. You thought again about the money he had sent, how he casually had a personal driver on hand, the clothes he wore - he probably pitied you, couldn’t even be bothered to consider you as a -
“Is that why you have two jobs?” he inquired. There’s only sincerity behind his question, like he was truly trying to understand.
You nodded slowly, meeting his eyes. It occurred to you then that this felt like some strange job interview - well, a job interview with a man you drunkenly kissed on the sidewalk the night before. You shivered at the memory.
“How old are you again?” he asked.
“Twenty,” you replied, recalling his age from his I.D. - he had just turned thirty, if your math was right.
“Jesus,” he whispered, mostly to himself. He leaned back in his chair, brow furrowed. You noted how he was fidgeting a bit with his fingers, shifting in his seat - was he nervous? Why?
“Okay, I guess I’ll just get to it,” Steve conceded, leaning forward again. He folded his forearms on the table and leaned it, his gaze focused on yours. He was ramping up to something, but nothing could have prepared you for what.
“What if you didn’t have to worry about money anymore?” he posed, his voice low and steady.
You furrowed your brow, confused. You felt your stomach flip again, you mind racing to a million and one implications.
“I - what?”
He sighed, running one hand through his hair as he gathered himself.
“I - Jesus, okay, this is harder than I thought. I’ve never really done this before, so just, bear with me, yeah?”
You frowned, but nodded, giving him a moment to continue.
“First of all, don’t apologize for kissing me. I mean, I was really hoping you would,” he admitted.
You felt something flutter in your chest, and fought with everything you had to keep your face neutral.
“You - you were?”
He nodded.
“Yeah - I mean, not that I was expecting it, but - I wanted to. But - earlier, you said something about me not being interested in you… that’s not true.”
You wanted to jump up and down with glee, but you couldn’t help and feel that there was a big but coming.
“- but, I’m not exactly looking for anything right now. Well, anything serious. I just… a relationship can’t happen for me, not right now. And, I don’t know if that’s going to change anytime soon. I’m only in Italy until the end of the summer anyway.”
You felt your heart sink in your chest, like a balloon deflating. There it was - it explained a lot.
“Oh,” you said softly, doing your best to not let the disappointment bleed through. “That’s fine - I get it, really. Thanks for letting me know -”
“Wait, it’s not just that,” he explained. “I - fuck, okay, give me a second here. I was thinking of having an… arrangement, with you.”
You cocked an eyebrow, sitting up a bit straighter in your chair.
“An arrangement?” you echoed.
“Yeah,” he said. “I - I want to keep seeing you. But, with an understanding - that there wouldn’t be personal feelings involved, it’d just be something fun, for you and me. And, maybe you could occasionally be my date to work events, galas, that sort of thing.”
You kept your face as stoic as possible, taking in what he was asking. But before you could formulate a thought, he continued:
“And, in exchange… I could help you out. I can give you a monthly allowance, conver all your major bills, student loans, if you have any… and, if there’s anything you want to buy yourself, like, new shoes or something?”
“What makes you think I want shoes?” you bristled, suddenly becoming defensive as you truly started to comprehend what he was proposing.
“Nothing!” he exclaimed, backtracking. “I’m just saying that… if there’s anything you want, I can take care of it. To thank you, for your… discretion.”
You felt your face heat, the blood rushing into your cheeks and roaring in your ears. Here he was, a man you were only just getting to know, asking if you wanted to be his… his -
“You wouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, of course,” he added quickly, his own cheeks starting to twinge pink. “I mean, I’d never pressure you into anything - I wouldn’t do this if you didn’t consent, I mean.”
“And if I don’t consent?” you asked, your words coming out as more of a snap than you intended.
“Then I’d leave here, right now, and you’d never have to see me again,” he assured. “And, I’d send you another sum of money to at least cover your rent for the rest of the year, for even insulting you with the offer. But… I do think this could help both of us.”
You bit your lip, grabbing a paper napkin from the table and twisting it in your hand.
“Can it? I just… I feel like you’re not the kind of guy that needs to pay for sex. I mean, what’s in it for you?”
He hesitated for a second, and it occurred to you that he’s nervous, perhaps more than you.
“It’s not just sex,” he admitted. “I mean - it’d be nice, to have someone kind of consistent, and to know she wouldn’t expect anything. That’s the point of the agreement, I guess. But also… you saw who I work with. They’re always on me, about being ‘married to my work,’ all of that. So -”
“You want me to be your arm candy?” you finished bluntly. He turned just a bit more red at that.
“I wouldn’t put it like that, but - yeah, basically. After that stunt at the restaurant… I think they’d respect me a lot more, to be honest.”
“And you think I’m pretty enough for that?” you asked dryly, mostly to yourself as you laughed inwardly at the idea.
“Yeah, I do,” he whispered.
You froze for a moment, caught off-guard by his response - and, you hated how it made something warm bubble inside your chest, especially in the given situation. You just nodded, tearing at the napkin in your hand.
“Can I just ask you one thing?” you posed.
“Sure, anything.”
“Why don’t you want a relationship?”
His eyes widened, like that was the last thing he ever expected. Something unreadable passed his features, and he thought for a moment before replying.
“Honestly? I’m really busy. HNL is working on expanding through Europe - or, in Brenner’s words, dominate. And, I’m trying to work my way up to CEO - I think I have a good shot, once he retires. Having someone… it’d distract me. And, I don’t think it’d be fair to her, either - I can’t fully commit the time, not right now.”
It was an honest answer, at least from what you could tell. Still, what he was proposing… It seemed crazy. Too good to be true. If he had taken you home last night, and just made it clear it was a one-time thing… you would have let it happen. You knew that with near-certainty. If Steve had just become a fun story to tell one day, that would’ve been fine by you. But this…
“Can I think about it?” you asked. He nodded vigorously.
“Yeah - yeah! Of course. Here -”
He handed you his phone, pulling up the blank contact form on the screen.
“- put your number in here. So you can get in touch, if you make a decision, or for… whatever.”
You took it from him, typing out your full name and phone number with shaky hands. Your palms were sweaty, the weight of what he wanted from you.
When you handed it back to him, he glanced down, and stuck the phone back in his pocket.
“Great - well, um, I’ve kept you long enough after work -”
“Oh, yeah - I should probably get home, anyways. I’m on dinner tonight, for me and Robs.”
He stood when you did, chairs scraping on the floor as you stepped away from the table, leaving two empty coffee mugs and a napkin torn to bits.
“Let me call my car, to drive you home -”
“No,” you said firmly. “I - I want to walk for a bit, actually. To clear my head, if that’s alright.”
He just nodded curtly, and you both just stared at each other for a moment. It was awkward now, like you were now leaving the job interview not knowing if you felt good about getting the job. Do you hug? Should you just leave?
You opted to shake his hand, extending your hand towards his until he took it. It felt strange to do that, but before you could dwell on it, you were mumbling a rushed talk to you soon, and running out the door.
As soon as you were out of sight of the coffee shop, you let out a deep exhale - this could not be your life. But somehow, it was.
As you walked down the cobblestone streets, you became convinced that the whole interaction was in your imagination - perhaps you were still dreaming, and your alarm clock would wake you up at any moment. That was, until, you heard your phone ding:
Maybe: Steve
Hey - this is Steve. Steve Harrington, in case you forgot - I realized you probably also need my number, right? Have a good night.
Jesus, he writes texts like a dad. A grandpa, even. You stared at the message for a moment, reading it a few times - yes, this was real. You took a moment to add the number to your contacts, typing out Steve Harrington slowly. Then, you stuck it in your bag, and continued on your walk, doing everything you could to not check it for the rest of the way.
Your walk home was nearly an hour - reasonably, you should’ve taken Steve’s offer, or at least the bus. But you charged ahead, breathing in the air as dusk started to overtake the day, the sky darkening to the telltale hues of pink and orange. Summer was beginning to show its face, the days stretching just a bit longer, the warmth just a bit more persistent, creeping in as spring met its final days.
It was your favorite time of year - just before the true heat of summer set in, the promise of bright days ahead and winter long-dead in its grave. And thankfully, it meant darkness was only truly settling in when you reached your apartment - you had arrived there on auto-pilot, spending your whole walk home thinking of Steve’s offer.
You were bouncing back and forth, between telling him to fuck himself, and jumping at the opportunity to take everything he had to offer you.
When you walked up to the third floor and jostled the door open with your keys, the apartment was dark - indicating that Robin had hardly left her room all day. But, you needed to talk to her. You needed someone else to tell you that this was insane, outlandish, unbelievable -
When you knocked on her door, you were met with a muffled hmmm, what?
You opened her bedroom door slowly, only to see Robin under her covers, her room still dark. She was only illuminated by the light of her phone’s screen, where she was no doubt doom scrolling for the last few hours, if not all day.
“Hey, you,” you whispered. “How’re you feeling?”
She groaned, sitting up in bed.
“Only marginally better. But, I think I’ve taken the legal limit of ibuprofen, so I have to wait the rest out.”
You chuckled, shaking your head.
“I would say I feel bad for you, but I’m not sure I do.”
She chucked a pillow in your direction, narrowly missing your head.
“Asshole,” she grumbled.
“Love you too,” you replied, sitting on the edge of her bed.
Robin rubbed her eyes, yawning.
“So, how was work?”
Jesus - how were you supposed to answer that question?
“Oh, uh - good, I guess. Well - okay, if I tell you something, will you promise not to freak out? Because like, I really need your advice here.”
“Uh, yeah, okay - that’s totally not ominous.”
“Well, you know Steve?”
“Our savior, you mean? Yeah. I mean, he did bring us back last night, right? I didn’t make that up?”
“No,” you confirmed. “You didn’t. But, before you found us last night… we kind of made out.”
That got Robin to sit up straight, looking more alive than she had all day.
“Oh? You made out with moneybags??? And didn’t tell me?”
“To be fair, you were incapacitated.”
Robin rolled her eyes playfully, then held up her hands defensively.
“Yeah, okay, whatever - well, did you get his number or something?”
You sighed, gathering yourself as you figured out how to answer that question.
“Well, kind of - not last night. But, he came to visit me at work today… I kind of told him where I worked last night while we were talking.”
Robin’s eyes widened, and she grinned.
“Wait, he showed up at work? Oh my God, he’s into you -”
“Not so fast,” you said. “I - he asked to meet with me after my shift. So, I did, and… well, he -”
“He what?” Robin asked, clearly impatient. “Did he ask you out? C’mon, you’re killing me here -”
“He offered to be my sugar daddy,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out. It was the first time you had said it out loud, and it felt ridiculous to even put it that way. But, that’s what it was, no matter how you sliced it.
For maybe the first time in her life, Robin had no words. Her mouth hung open, and you could’ve sworn you saw her brain reboot as she comprehended exactly what you just said.
“I - I’m sorry, what?”
“Well, that’s basically what he offered. Maybe there’s maybe a better term for it, but -”
“No, no, you need to tell me exactly what he said,” Robin demanded, crossing her legs on the bed.
So you did. You explained every detail of Steve’s offer, as best as you could remember, watching how every version of disbelief and awe passed Robin’s face. It was only after you were done that she spoke:
“So, you’re doing it, right?”
You stared at her, eyes wide.
“What? I - I thought you’d tell me it’s a terrible idea -”
“Girl, no - I mean, think about it. He’s offering to pay you, enough that you don;t have to wear yourself down with work anymore, and you’ll get laid? It’s a win-win. Besides, I don’t even like men, and I can acknowledge that the guy is pretty easy on the eyes. I mean, we’ve established he’s not a murderer, right?”
You shrugged.
“I think so - he told me his full name, knows that I told you everything - if he’s a murderer, he’s one who's looking to get caught. But… this is crazy, right?”
Robin just shrugged, a mischievous look in her eye.
“Maybe. But, who ever said crazy was bad? I mean, if you really don’t want to do it, then don’t. But, do you have any reason not to?”
It was those words that rang through your head, all through your dinner (which ended up being a modge-podge of leftovers, after realizing that neither of you had done a proper grocery shop in a while), all while you and Robin watched a movie, and long after she went to bed.
It was nearly midnight when you pulled out your phone, staring once again at Steve’s text. You knew you should probably respond via text - there was a good chance he was already asleep. But, something else compelled you to tap on his contact and press call.
One ring. Two. On the third, a muffled click, and his voice, groggy and low.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” you whispered. “It’s me.”
“Oh! Hello,” he replied, sounding considerably more awake.
“I’m sorry - were you asleep?”
“Hm? No, no - don’t worry about that. Are you okay?”
You nodded, before remembering that he couldn’t see you.
“Yeah - yes. It’s just… I’ve thought a lot about your offer.”
Silence. Then, “...okay? And?”
He sounded cautious, and maybe even hopeful. You took a deep, shuddering breath before answering:
“Yeah. Let’s do it.”
*******
You didn’t actually see Steve for a few days after that. You did receive a text the following morning from Steve, which only read:
Let me know what days and times you’re free. We can meet to set up the arrangements.
And that was what the next few days entailed. First, you had a Zoom meeting with Steve, which felt ridiculously formal. He explained that it was because he was at work, and it was easier this way - by the end of it, he had set you up with a personal separate checking account and a platinum credit card. You had insisted that it wasn’t necessary, afraid he’d get in trouble, but he had only waved off your concerns - don’t worry - you’d be surprised what some of my colleagues get up to. Besides, as far as my accountant is concerned, you’re a client.
A few days later, a car pulled up to your apartment - Steve’s car. Only, he wasn’t in it - his driver informed you that he was there to pick you up for your appointment. The appointment, it turned out, was with a seamstress named Valentina, a bombastic and impassioned woman who had once worked for Versace before leaving to open her own independent brand as a designer. As you stood on a raised block and she measured every inch of you, all she wanted to do was talk. She prattled on about her job, her wife, her annoying neighbor, the fact that she’s a week behind on tailoring a wedding gown for some politician’s daughter. You managed to ask how she knew Steve, and she explained how she’s tailored all of his work attire in the time he’s been in Europe - he’d even had his suit shipped to her during his winter in London. Her rambling was occasionally interjected with what lovely arms you have, or you’d look gorgeous in this color, don’t you think?
Eventually, you worked up the courage to ask, “So, uh, what exactly are you going to make for me? Like, a dress?”
Valentina stopped mid-measuring, glancing up from where she was kneeling in front of you.
“You don’t know?” she asked.
You just shook your head in response, and she laughed.
“Well, Signore Harrington was quite clear - I am to make you everything.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“What do you mean, everything?”
“He said that everything you want to wear is to be made by me. Or, if you buy something else you like, I’m meant to tailor it, too. That’s why I’m keeping your measurements on file - to make sure everything fits you just right.”
“Oh.”
That was all you could muster. You had seen all of the fine, beautiful piece at the front of Valentia’s shop when you arrived - you had assumed maybe she was making one dress for you, for a special occasion. Or, you’d be picking something from the shop, and that was it. But this… how much money did Steve have?
“Nothing but the best, for Signore Harrington,” Valentina continued, resuming her work. “Which means nothing but the best for his ragazza.”
Girlfriend. You didn’t know whether that was a cover story Steve told her, or just an assumption she’d drawn, but you just chose to not respond, even as the word and all of the falsehoods behind it swirled in your mind.
It wasn’t until nearly a week later that you actually heard from Steve again. It’s another text, and you don’t see it until your lunch break during a coffee shop shift. It reads:
Are you busy tonight?
You stared at the text for a few moments, pondering everything it implied. Was this it? The beginning of… whatever this was? You took a moment to think, then replied:
No, why? I work until 4 and then I’m free
You saw the three dots appear for a second, then disappear. Then, his reply:
You’re working?
Yea I always work 8-4 on Thursdays
You don’t need to do that, you know.
Are you saying I’m not allowed to?
Of course you are, but just know that you don’t need to. I’ll take care of you.
You read that last sentence a few more times than was probably necessary. Then, he texted again:
So, you are free tonight, yes?
You pause for a moment before sending yes.
Great - I’ll come pick you up at 7? Let’s do dinner.
Then, the bell above the door was ringing, and your manager was calling for you as the line of customers grew, your 15-minute break somehow already over.
Sounds good see you then
That was how you found yourself practically sprinting out the door when your shift ended, just barely catching the bus, internally wishing it would skip every other stop by some miracle and get you home as quickly as possible. That, of course, doesn’t happen, and you briefly wondered if you should’ve just used your credit card and called a taxi. The thought suddenly feels ridiculous - you hadn’t actually used any of Steve’s money yet. You knew he said you should, but it felt strange to just frivolously spend someone else’s money like that. So instead, you leaned your head against the bus window, and willed it to move faster.
When you finally arrived home, you were only in the door for a few seconds before Robin was running up to you, eyes wide with glee.
“There you are! Look at this shit - did you know this was coming?”
“Did I - what?” you asked, confused and still a bit out of breath from how briskly you trekked two blocks and up the stairs.
“Okay, clearly you didn’t - c’mere, some lady came and dropped this off earlier today -”
You followed her as she spoke, stopping in your tracks at your bedroom door.
“What the -”
Hanging in your doorway was a thick garment bag on a gold hanger, the door propped open with a dark, leather-bound trunk.
Before you could ask anything else, you were unzipping the bag with shaky hands, gasping as you saw the contents - inside were four dresses, probably nicer than anything you’d worn in your life, all adorned with Valentina’s sigil on the inside.
“Whoa,” Robin said from behind you. “Are those from -”
“Yeah,” you said, cutting her off. “I - I think they’re all custom-made.”
It was then that you noticed a small envelope tucked inside, with a now-familiar wax seal. You practically tore it open, and it read:
I had Valentina send over these first few garments - there’ll be more to come. I think the white one would look great on you for tonight, with the gold shoes. I’ll see you at 7.
S.H.
“Holy shit,” Robin whispered, followed by a low whistle. “He’s really taking this whole thing seriously, isn’t he?”
You nodded, running your thumb over Steve’s handwriting a few times.
“Okay, you’ve got to tell me - is he just like, really bad in bed or something? Like, is that why he’s doing all this -”
“I wouldn’t know,” you admitted. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Wait - you haven’t slept with him yet?”
You shook your head, pinching the fabric of the white dress hanging in front, feeling the soft satin between your fingers.
“No,” you said. “I’m seeing him tonight, though.”
“Holy shit,” Robin said. “How is this your life now?”
You shook your head in disbelief.
“I have no clue.”
*******
Two hours later, after a long, contemplative shower, and fussing maybe a bit too much with your hair and makeup, you found yourself wearing the dress and heels from the trunk, as instructed. Well, it was more of a suggestion than instruction, but who were you to object?
The dress had slipped on with ease, and it was maybe the lightest, softest thing you had ever worn - it fit like a glove, enough that you didn’t think a single other person in the world could put this on if they tried. You understood now why Steve used Valentina - she was damn good at her job.
You stared at yourself in the mirror, not exactly recognizing yourself. It felt like you were going to some costume party, if the costume in question was a dress finer than anything you’d ever worn and shoes that probably cost more than you were willing to find out. The dress was light and flowy, hitting right above your knees. You did a quick 360, and took a deep breath - this was fine. It was great, actually - it was just dinner, that was all. Maybe. Probably.
When you emerged from the bedroom, Robin nearly fell off of the couch, jaw slack.
“Who are you, and what’ve you done with my roommate?”
You rolled your eyes, giving Robin a spin for the full effect. She just laughed, shaking her head incredulously.
“Seriously, though - you look great. Like, sophisticated, but in a hot way, I promise.”
“I don’t know if that’s a thing,” you said.
“‘Course it is, I’m looking at it!”
Before you could say anything else, you heard your buzzer ring - someone was downstairs.
You shared a look with Robin, and she bounced excitedly on the couch, urging you to answer. You went to the intercom, pressing the talk button and leaning in closely, remembering how notoriously bad the sound quality on this thing was.
“Um, hello?”
“Hey - it’s me,” Steve’s voice said, distorted a bit through the crackly speaker. “Are you ready to go?”
Oh, God. He actually came to the door.
“Yep! I’ll be down in a minute!”
“Are you sure? I can come up, if you want -”
“No!” you replied quickly - you glanced back at your tiny, and currently messy, apartment, and imagined he’d die if he ever saw it.
“It’s okay - it’s a third floor walkup… I’ll come down.”
“Yeah, okay,” he conceded.
You shot a glance back at Robin, who was giving you two thumbs-up.
“Wish me luck,” you said, suddenly feeling waves of anxiety rolling through you - this was suddenly so real, what the Hell are you even doing -
“Don’t do that,” Robin said firmly.
“Do what?”
“Freak out.”
“I’m not freaking out -”
“Yeah, you are,” she interjected. “It’s fine - in fact, it’s less pressure than a real date. And I’ve got your location, so if you go missing -”
“Ha, ha,” you replied, voice laced with sarcasm. “Goodnight, Robin.”
Before she could tease you or ask any more questions, you were out the door and heading down the stairs, heart fluttering as you descended each flight, knowing it’d bring you closer to him.
And, when you opened the door, there he was - much more formal than the last time you had seen him, wearing a slim-fitting suit and a friendly smile. When he saw you, he stepped back for a moment, eyes widening.
“I - wow. Look at you.”
You felt your heart flip, your face flushing.
“Well, I have you to thank for that. Or, Valentina, I guess.”
“Oh, yeah,” he agreed. “Mostly Valentina - I don’t really know anything about women’s fashion, so I told her to do what she thought was best for you.”
“And did she?” you asked.
He looked you up and down again, nodding.
“I’ll say - you really do look beautiful, you know,” he said, voice a little softer now.
You felt your face heat even more, and decided not to respond. After a moment, Steve stepped back and waved you ahead, following you down the steps towards the car parked on the curb. He opened the door for you, allowing you to slide in across the backseat before following.
As the car peeled away and onto the road, Steve cleared his throat.
“So - I got you a little something.”
Before you could ask or protest, he was handing you a small white box. You opened it slowly, gasping as you got a look inside - it was a necklace. A gold necklace, with a diamond pendant that glistened more than anything you’d ever seen. The whole thing must’ve been real - you were no expert, but it had to be. It was simple, but so clearly nicer that any of the plated stuff you had sitting on your dresser at home.
You just held the box in your hand, staring at it for a moment as you examined the contents. You slowly traced the chain with your finger, your thoughts only interrupted by Steve.
“If you don’t like it, we can return it, and you can pick out something you like better - I have the receipt, I just didn’t really know what you liked -”
“It’s beautiful,” you whispered. You realized he had taken your silence for rejection, and the idea was enough to make you sick.
“But - I can’t accept this. It must’ve been so expensive -”
“Don’t worry about that,” Steve interrupted. “I wanted to get you something nice, and I thought it’d look nice on you.”
You glanced to the front of the car to gauge how much the driver was paying attention, and leaned in closer to Steve with a whisper.
“You already wired me my rent, tuition, and my allowance - which was a crazy amount, by the way - and, the clothes, all of it… not that I’m not grateful. I am, I just… you’ve already spent so much, you’re going to end up spoiling me -”
“Maybe I want to spoil you,” he murmured.
Whatever you were planning on saying next vanished, the words dying in your throat. So you just went quiet, looking down at the necklace in your lap again.
“Can I?” he asked.
Knowing what he was asking, you nodded, gathering your hair to the side as he extracted the necklace from its box. He unlatched it and pulled it up around the exposed slope of your neck, his fingers brushing your skin as he closed it again. You felt your breath hitched, the feeling of his fingers ever-so-lightly touching you lighting your skin on fire.
“I do have a question,” you asked, fixing your hair as you gazed down as where the pendant rested on your sternum.
“Mm hm?”
“If - if I suddenly changed my mind about this - this whole arrangement… do I need to pay you back?”
He shook his head fervently.
“No - definitely not. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do - if you ever want to stop, let me know, and you can keep whatever I’ve given you. No need to pay me back, I promise. You’re allowed to change your mind, I - I don’t own you.”
“Right,” you said, biting your lip. Then you managed to finally meet his gaze, and he was looking at you so sincerely it made you want to cry. And his face was close - so, so close.
Then, you were leaning across the seat and bringing your hand to cup his jaw, pressing your lips to his. He tensed for a second, then leaned into the kiss. You pulled back after a moment, and he just stared at you, bewildered.
“What was that for?” he asked softly.
“To say thank you,” you replied, hand still brushing his face.
“And,” you added, “I’ve actually changed my mind about one thing.”
His brow furrowed, and you realized that you accidentally sent him into panic mode.
“About what?”
“Let’s skip dinner,” you whispered. “I want to go to your place instead.”
Author's note: thanks everyone for all the enthusiasm for the story so far! Just a warning, there's a lot of smut ahead, so get ready for that! As always, shoutout to Em, who's basically my co-author. Your replies, comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!
Reply if you'd like to be added to the series' taglist
summary: Getting with Shiro is worth anything. Anything. So Keith is going to fake being the cliche with daddy issues - complete with stuffed animals, booty shorts, and an utter loss of dignity - until he makes it. Hopefully along the way he’ll figure out why it feels like being Shiro’s baby boy might just be the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Slow Burn, Daddy Kink, Friends to Lovers, RomCom Level Shenanigans, Undernegotiated Kink, Possessive Behavior, Belting, Soft BDSM, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Veteran Shiro (Voltron), Social Media Enabled Stalking, Implied / Referenced Child Abuse, Implied / Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied / Referenced Self-Harm, Love is Stored in the Lion Plushies
chapters: 5/12
read on: ao3 (read the latest chapter or start at the beginning)
I just read don’t call me baby and oh my gosh, you are such a talented writer! Marshal is so hot in it, like he’s so cocky and arrogant but you can already tell he’s falling for Ryan. He just thinks she’s so beautiful but strong and he’s so intrigued by her world and by her as a person, it’s really a wonderful story! And Ryan!!!! The way she almost has looked down on him in the past but is quickly learning that he’s smart and kind and thoughtful (that scene with Hamish AHHH! I was so melty!)
I can’t wait to see where you go with this story, you’ve really captured their essences. The smut is also next level but I won’t go into that in public 🫣
Please continue with it! I can’t wait to see what happens next!
asdfghjkl thank you anon for the kind words!! 🥹
i felt like marshall had so much potential, and i had imagined him to be this sort of cocky, too-cool-for-school type that would also on a dime hurt someone who looked at the person he loved the wrong way. it's been so fun to kind of make him my own in this and make him out to be who i had pictured him as before the episodes came out!!
and in the story, he's been so fun to write because he has these preconceived notions of ryan and who she is and how she looks at the world, and i'm excited for him to sort of let that all go as our story progresses 🤭
and RYAN!! my love!! i'm so glad you're enjoying her growth just in these first few chapters. she's been a joy to write and i just cannot wait for her to finally get out of her own head and pursue this thing brewing between her and marshall hehe
thank you thank you THANK YOU for reading and loving this fic!! it genuinely means the world to me 🫶
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 7/10
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Characters: Keith (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), The Rest of the Gang's Here Too
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Slow Burn, Daddy Kink, Friends to Lovers, Questionable Humor, RomCom Level Shenanigans, Undernegotiated Kink, Possessive Behavior, Belting, Soft BDSM, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Veteran Shiro (Voltron), Honestly a Lot Lighter Than It Sounds I Promise, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Audio Format: Streaming, podfic cover art welcome, Podfic Length: 1.5-2 Hours
Series: Part 1 of of all the things my ears have heard (the best by far is you)
Summary:
A podfic of akaiiko's "don't call me baby (unless you mean it)" aka the best fic to have ever blessed my eyes. Ever.
Original story summary:
Getting with Shiro is worth anything. Anything. So Keith is going to fake being the cliche with daddy issues - complete with stuffed animals, booty shorts, and an utter loss of dignity - until he makes it. Hopefully along the way he'll figure out why it feels like being Shiro's baby boy might just be the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
Keith has a moment where he wonders, somewhat blankly, how he bought this perfectly serviceable shirt and then promptly forgot its existence. Then he looks down. And remembers in a series of post traumatic flashbacks exactly why he’d blocked the shirt from his consciousness.
Namely, three words, in a font that isn’t comic sans but comes insultingly close to it, garnished with red glitter: Daddy’s Little Boy.
“Keith?” Very slowly, he turns to look at the closed door to his bedroom. “Keith, are you okay? I heard…” Probably some kind of vaguely strangled noise. But Shiro’s too nice to articulate that kind of thing. “Keith? If you don’t answer, I’m coming in.”
Chapter 2, Part 3: The One with Regrets is now live on AO3 and YouTube!
Sorry I've been AWOL, but I've just been dealing with school and lost a bit of passion for this for the moment. But! I will get back to this sometime, so I guess hiatus for now sorry loves I've just been stressing with college a lot :/
Welcome to the First Annual Dean/Cas Historical Revelry Challenge!
Where did this challenge come from?
Since I’m a history buff and I’ve written a few historical pieces before, I figured that there had to be others just like me out there. Bouncing the idea around left me happy enough to start a challenge. (I’m @origin-void, if you’re curious)
How can we participate?
To participate, you will need to know the rules first!
Here is a link to the rules and regulations.
Once you have read all of them thoroughly, you need to know what you’re going to have to stick to.
Here is a link to the 2018 Fall schedule.
If you’ve made it this far, now it is time to sign up. By signing up, you agree and understand that anything you write is your own and that DCHR doesn't have absolute jurisdiction, but will still make you play by the rules. If you have any questions, make sure to email [email protected] .
Click here to sign up for the Fall 2018 DCHR Challenge.
Keep in mind that this is a new challenge run by a rookie! If you find any problems, make sure to email or contact @dchrchallenge or @origin-void.
#project hail mary
