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katyswrites · 7 months

Text

don't call me 'baby'

PART 10 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, mentions of pregnancy/a pregnancy scare, mentions of food and alcohol, unprotected p in v, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, ddlg dynamics, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 10.4K

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 10 | meet me in the afterglow

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Your walk to work was chilly enough to warrant a coat. That was perhaps the thing you missed least about home in the U.S. - even though the winters certainly got cold here, it was nowhere near the sub-zero temperatures you had grown up with during the coldest time of year. Maybe the only thing you missed was snow - in all of your time living here, you had only gotten a brief dusting once, and it had melted by the following day.

Still, a week out from Christmas, you now needed to wrap something warm around yourself as you walked down the street, heading closer to the city center as your shift was due to start.

You were technically two minutes late to your shift, the coffee shop busy enough to have a line going out the door when you arrived. Yet, your manager Francesco said nothing - a small spark of joy in your day.

You didn’t necessarily need to go back to work - Steve’s money had yet to run out. But, you felt good about earning your own money - and, the less you had to draw on his remaining funds, the less you had to think about him.

You hadn’t seen or spoken to Steve since the night of your argument. Well, that was only partially true - you had received one piece of communication from him. It came a few days later - you had been moping in your apartment, having barely left your room for days, when an envelope arrived. It had his familiar writing and wax seal, with another wad of cash and a letter made out to you:

I promise this is the last you’ll hear from me. I am a man of my word, so I promise to help provide for you until you’re finished with school. I’ll be transferring enough money to your account to cover all of your expenses, so no need to worry about your rent, food, anything of the sort… I really do want you to be able to focus on school, okay? So, please don’t protest, or try to send the money back. Please feel free to use the credit card if you need to.

I’m sorry it ended this way. We both knew it was going to, but I apologize if I said anything out of line the other night. I truly do wish you the best.

Take care,

Steve

Reading it had been a punch to the gut. The formality of it, the finality of it… you would’ve rather that you never heard from him again. You had stashed the letter in a box under your bed, and not looked at it since.

A few weeks after that, you had pregnancy scare. It was silly, really - but, your period was late, and if was the first conclusion your mind had jumped to. You had called Robin in a panic, begging her to come home - she did, with four different brands of pregnancy tests. Those 15 minutes of waiting for results were the most agonizing of your life - then, upon seeing them all negative, you fell to your knees and burst into tears.

“It’s okay,” Robin had cooed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You’re good it was a false alarm - you’re probably just late because of stress -”

“I know,” you sobbed. “I just -”

“What is it?”

You then had sat up, chest heaving as you sobbed.

“He’s really gone isn’t he?”

Robin held you in her arms that night as you cried yourself to sleep.

To your knowledge now, he had gone back to the U.S. - was he still in Chicago? Or, did he go back to New York? You realized it was better for you to not ask these questions, or to think of him at all. As the weeks had turned into months, you found yourself thinking of him a little less each day - but you still thought of him. You saw him in the passersby as you walked down the street, in every car window, in every businessman walking through the door to order a coffee. Sometimes, you’d hear a laugh, or get a brief whiff of cigarette smoke, and swear it was him. But it never was - it never would be again.

The days had dragged on, but luckily, you often found yourself too busy to dwell too much on thoughts of Steve. Between work and school, your plate was pretty full. With graduation in mere weeks, you had spent the entire term studying and working on your thesis. Steve’s remaining money, at least, allowed you to work far less hours than you had before - a small blessing, you supposed.

The day was moving pretty quickly, the morning rush busy enough that two hours flew by without much notice. It was only during the afternoon lull that you found yourself able to look up from the espresso machine - only to lock eyes with a familiar face through the window.

Eddie smiled back at you, waving. You couldn’t help but grin, and beckoned him to come inside. He bounded through the glass doors, bursting into the coffee shop with the infectious, chaotic energy he always carries with him.

“Bella, how are you?” he asked, leaning over the counter with a big grin.

“I’m okay,” you said, shrugging.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just okay?”

“Oh well - you know, a bit stressed with the end of term and all. But, that’ll all be over soon.”

“I’m almost done, too - just finishing up my exams, all of that nonsense.”

“Do you have someone for your thesis?”

You nodded. “Professor Hopper - he’s always had a soft spot for me,” you said, smiling fondly, thinking of the seemingly-gruff.

“I have Clarke - I don’t actually know how much he knows about photography, he teaches chemistry for godsake, but apparently it’s a hobby or something, so he’ll sign off on whatever I do,” Eddie said, laughing.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you - I actually have my own studio space now.”

“What? Eddie, that’s amazing!”

He grinned. “Thanks - I mean, I’m still technically freelance, but I’m hoping once I’m fully graduated more work will start coming in. But for now, I don’t mind having some spare time to practice with the band.”

You did your best to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Right - don’t forget me when you make it as a big rockstar, Eddie.”

He let out a hearty laugh at that, the infectious kind that had you joining in - you hadn’t laughed like that in quite some time.

“You know, you should come by later to check it out,” Eddie said. “I mean, if you want -”

You thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Sure, why not - I get off in about a half hour -”

“Perfect,” he cried, clapping his hands together. “I’ll just wait around then - and, uh, can I get an espresso? Since I’m already here and all.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.

“Yeah, sure thing Munson - I’ll take my sweet time with it, just for you.”

The end of your shift flew by, and soon enough you were pulling off your apron, linking your arm in Eddie’s as he led you out the door and through the city.

The studio, as it turned out, was only a few blocks away. The space was small, but nice - a big glass storefront allowed plenty of light in, even with the fading sun, indicative of the short days of winter. Some of Eddie’s work hung framed on the walls - city scenes, candids of people on the street, bands in action at his favorite club… and even a few of you, from the project you posed for a few years ago.

“Wow - this is amazing, Eddie!” you exclaimed, glancing around the studio with genuine pride for your friend. You knew this was always the goal for him, what he always wanted to do.

“Grazie mille,” he said, beaming.

“Do you have anything lined up?”

He nodded.

“Some - nothing too interesting. A few weddings, graduation photoshoots, things like that. Oh, do you want to see the photo lab?”

You let him lead the way into the back room, passing through a dimly-lit room with machines and equipment that you were sure you had no idea how to use. Newly developed photos were hanging around on clothespins, or spread across the table in the middle.

“Back there is the darkroom,” Eddie said, gesturing to a small door on the other side of the room. “But yeah, this is where the magic happens.”

“You develop all your pictures this way?” you asked, examining a few laid across the table.

He shook his head. “Not exactly - only the stuff I shoot on film. A lot of what I do is digital, and I edit that on my computer but… I really do love shooting film. I only really do that for specific things. Oh, which reminds me!”

He turned his back to you, rummaging through a filing cabinet until he produced a large manila envelope, extending it to you. You furrowed your brow, confused. You turned it to examine it properly - the only thing written on it was your name and a date, in Eddie’s telltale scrawl.

“What -”

“It’s those pictures I owe you, from your birthday party - sorry, it took me a while to get around to developing them.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you said quietly, gripping the envelope a bit tighter. “Uh, thanks - that was really nice of you, Eddie.”

You were still staring down at the parcel in your hands, your hands shaking a bit - you had completely forgotten that Eddie had been taking pictures all night. Most likely because you had been a bit distracted at the time. But now…

“I think they turned out pretty nice, if you ask me,” Eddie said. “But, you can be the judge of that yourself.”

You pressed your mouth into a tight line, nearly feigning a smile as you finally met his eyes again. He was looking back expectantly, and you realized he wanted you to look at them now.

“Oh, yeah,” you mumbled. “I guess I’ll just -”

You opened it up, sliding out the stack of photos - they were slightly bigger than the ones you had seen from a digital camera, on a beautiful matte paper that you knew must have not been cheap. This, you realized, was Eddie’s belated birthday gift to you.

You thumbed through the pictures - the first few were just candids of your friends on the dancefloor, or deep in conversation around the bar. There were a few of you and Robin, arms thrown around each other and smiling ear-to-ear.

There were quite a few solo shots of you, raising a glass to the camera, mid-laugh, or dancing - somehow, he had made it look like you truly were the center of attention, as if to tell people this is who we were there for!

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, laughing quietly at a few of the shots, including one of Robin flipping off the camera as she kisses Vickie. Then, your smile dropped, because there he was.

Steve, looking as handsome as you remembered, but somehow also a stranger, or like a figment of your imagination. Somehow, a small part of your subconscious had convinced you over the last few months that perhaps he wasn’t real, a true figment of your imagination that had been too good to be true. But there he was, large as life, his arm wrapped around you as you smiled into the camera. You were smiling in his arms, a girl completely unrecognizable in some ways. In another photo, he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek as you laugh - you remembered that one being taken, that’s for sure. You gently trailed your fingers across the picture, as if you were hoping to reach in and pull that happy girl out, just to shake a bit of sense into her. You didn’t even realize you were crying until a fat wet teardrop his the page, rolling down and off the edge.

“Whoa - are you alright?” Eddie asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You jumped, having nearly forgotten that he was there at all. How long had you been staring at the pictures of Steve? For a few minutes, or hours? There was no way to know.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said, the thickness in your voice betraying you. You pressed the heels of your hands under your eyes, willing the gentle tears to stop, sniffling.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked softly.

You laughed dryly, more hot tears welling up as you did.

“Nothing! I - they’re beautiful, Eddie. Really - thank you. You - you’ve really got a talent.”

Your voice wobbled a bit at the end, and you sniffled.

“I’m sorry, I - it’s nothing to do with you,” you assured him. “I just - I’ve been having a hard time lately.”

Eddie cocked his head, confused. Then, his eyes flitted down to the picture in your hands.

“Oh - I’m sorry, I - is this about him?” Eddie asked quietly, gesturing to the photos. You just nodded, avoiding his gaze again as you stuffed them back into the envelope.

“I didn’t know you two had broken up, I’m sorry -”

“We didn’t break up!” you snapped, harsher than intended. “Fuck, I - sorry, that came out wrong. We didn’t break up, because we were never exactly together. It’s just complicated.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Yeah, okay - well, I’m sorry to hear about your not-breakup. I guess I’m just a little surprised.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I spent a long time looking at all of those when I was developing them - you know how they say pictures tell a thousand words?”

You nodded.

“Well - I take pictures of a lot of couples - weddings, engagement shoots, all of that… and I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.”

You felt your chest tighten - maybe you were being a lovesick idiot at your party, but Steve?

You shook your head. “No - Eddie, it… it wasn’t like that. I can promise you that.”

Steve made that perfectly clear.

Eddie shrugged again. “I’m just telling you what I observed, that’s all.”

“Well maybe you should mind your business,” you grumbled.

Fuck. You shouldn’t have said that.

Eddie’s face fell a bit, and he slowly took a step back, hands shoved in his pockets.

“My apologies,” he whispered. He was hurt, that much was obvious. You mentally kicked yourself.

“No Eddie - I’m sorry, I didn’t -”

You sighed, frustrated.

“Things have been, like, really weird the last few months and… it doesn’t matter.”

“I could tell,” he said, voice quiet. “You’ve been.. Distant.”

You nodded, the awkwardness filling the space between you two. You had fucked this up too, somehow.

“So,” you said, clearing your throat. “Uh, it’s getting late, and dark… I probably should head home.”

“Yeah, okay - good idea, I have some stuff to work on anyway.”

You both nodded, avoiding eye contact as you both headed out back into the studio.

It wasn’t until you were at the door that you turned to face Eddie again.

“The place really is beautiful… I’m proud of you,” you said sincerely. He offered a small smile in return.

“Thanks.”

“I also - the pictures are beautiful. Thank you for these, I - they’re great.”

“I’m sorry if they -”

“Don’t apologize,” you said firmly. “They’re great - you’ve really got a gift, you know.”

You could tell Eddie was fighting a real smile, a small win in your book.

“C’mon, you know my ego’s just fine on its own.”

You laughed, and without thinking, pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry I lost it a little earlier,” you whispered.

“It’s alright,” he said, pulling away. “Heartbreak is funny like that.”

You decided not to bother protesting his assessment this time, too tired to start a fight again just to feel something.

“Right, okay.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take out the photos with… him?” Eddie asked, gesturing down to the envelope.

“No, that’s alright - I’m a big girl, I can go through them. I’m definitely going to hang a few of these up though, so thanks again.”

“Take good care of yourself darling, alright? And come by any time - for any reason.”

It was an olive branch, an assurance that things were okay. You forced a smile, nodding.

“Thanks, Eddie - you’re a great friend, you know.”

You bid your farewells, and left the studio with a strange feeling settling within you. You pulled your coat a little tighter around you, stuffing the envelope underneath as you charged through the chilly evening air to the nearest bus stop.

You didn’t get home until nearly 6pm, the winter sky fully dark by then. By the time you walked a few blocks and up the stairs to your apartment, your face was stinging from the cold, the wind picking up more since that afternoon.

Robin was on the couch, a rerun of Friends playing on the TV.

“Hey! You’re back kind of late,” she remarked.

“Yeah - I ran into Eddie, funnily enough,” you replied, hoping you sounded nonchalant.

“Oh really? How is he? I miss him - we should really make a plan to hang out with him soon -”

“Yeah, for sure,” you said, kicking off your shoes and hanging your coat on the rack. “He’s good - I saw his new studio, it’s nice.”

“Oh, no way! That’s great - I need to go sometime -”

“Yeah, totally,” you said, absentminded. “Uh, I’ve got some stuff to do, but I’ll be out here later -”

“Maybe we can get takeout or something -”

“Yeah, perfect -” you tittered, closing your bedroom door behind you, eyes on the envelope in your hands.

You bit your lip, debating what to do. Part of you considered finding all of the pictures of Steve, and burning them. But, that felt a bit dramatic. You pulled out the stack again, sifting through until you found the shots of him. You couldn’t help but smile, looking at how happy the girl in the photos was - if only she knew how quickly things would fall apart that night. The photo of Steve kissing you cheek was your favorite - it was just full of pure, unbridled joy. The one after that was the one you stared at for quite some time, though. You were looking into the camera, grinning widely. Steve, however, wasn’t - no, he was looking at you. You stared at him for quite some time - and remembered Eddie’s words.

I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.

You had thought it was crazy - but, in the picture, Steve was looking at you like you’d hung the stars. Like, if he didn’t have you, he’d be lost. He was looking at you with eyes full of love - you just hadn’t been looking.

You gasped, realizing what Eddie had seen that you couldn’t - maybe everything had meant more to Steve than he had let on. No, that was crazy - wasn’t it?

What happened next didn’t have much explanation - it was probably crazy. You found yourself Googling Steve’s company headquarters in Chicago - it couldn’t be this easy, could it? But it was.

A quick call through the directory brought you to his secretary, a bubbly woman who was more than happy to help. You pretended to be the secretary of a business partner you had remembered Steve mentioning, saying how you wanted to send a thank-you gift - it had been too easy to get his home address, really. And, a confirmation that he was back in Chicago.

The next morning, you sent out an envelope, sticking on international postage. You debated not putting your name on the return address, but ultimately decided to include it - he’d recognize the address anyway. When you dropped it at the post office, you walked away feeling a sense of relief - and, perhaps, just a bit unhinged. TIme would tell if anything came of it. But, at the very least, it felt like finally closing the chapter of your life that had been defined by Steve Harrington. And, that was a good thing… right?

********

The day before Christmas Eve, you received great news: confirmation that you had passed all of your exams, your thesis receiving glowing feedback from the professors in your department. Your degree, which studied Art History and Travel and Tourism Management, meant that you would actually be able to stay here - you hoped to work in tourism in some way right here in Rome, or perhaps work in one of the city’s many museums - being bilingual would help, and more importantly, it meant you never had to set foot back in the United States again, if you didn’t want.

Christmas brought its usual cheer and celebration, complete with mulled wine and a potluck dinner you and Robin held for some of the other foreign students you were friendly with, knowing they didn’t have families to go to for the holidays. Your graduation only brought extra festivities, including a speech prepared by Robin given as a toast at dinner, saying how proud she was of you (and, how jealous she was that you didn’t have to worry about schoolwork anymore). It was silly yet sincere enough to make you tear up and pull her into a big hug. Eddie and Jonathan even swung by for a bit, joining in on the celebration until the wee hours of the morning. Robin and Vickie were all over each otherYou ate and drank to your heart’s content before stumbling to bed, leaving cleanup in the kitchen for the morning.

The morning of Boxing Day, it turned out, was actually the afternoon, with you and Robin oversleeping. You, to your own relief, felt tired, but not too hungover - the same couldn’t be said for Robin and Vickie, who stumbled into the kitchen with grimaces on their faces and grumbles as a greeting.

You spent most of the day cleaning up from the last two days’ festivities, washing dishes and clearing away wrapping paper, wiping countertops and vacuuming just enough until your home felt semi-in order.

You were still in your pajamas as it was getting dark again in the evening, a rarity these days. When Robin said she was heading out to dinner with Vickie and likely would be staying at her place that night, you bid her farewell, looking forward to some time alone to fully relax and unwind.

It was several hours later, after scrounging together a dinner of Christmas leftovers and half-dozing on the couch while a movie played, that your doorbell rang. You sat up with a start, your heart jumping at the unexpected intrusion. You stumbled to the door, grumbling about who could possibly be here at this hour - maybe Robin decided to come back after all, and got locked out again? You were ready to playfully ridicule her when you opened the door. But when you saw who was standing on the other side, you froze.

Steve Harrington was there on your doorstep, barely illuminated in the dim light. His chest was heaving, his hair just a bit disheveled. His eyes widened when he saw you, and you imagined you did the same. Your heart plummeted to your stomach at the sight of him, so real and alive in front of you. Were you dreaming? Was this some sick prank?

Neither of you said anything for a moment, two mouths hanging open, searching for the words.

“It’s Christmas,” you blurted out, the first words you’ve said to him in over four months.

“It’s December 26th,” he replied, simply and casually.

“I - well, it’s still a holiday, kind of.”

“Yeah, I know - do you know how hard it is to catch a last-minute flight on Christmas?”

You just stood there in the doorway, unable to think of anything else to say - what the fuck?

“What are you doing here?” you asked, words biting. You were lashing out a bit, but you didn’t care - this moment right now reminded you of a similar one over the summer, when he came to your doorstep to explain how he wasn’t engaged. What was his excuse now?

“Why did you send me this?” he asked, holding up a familiar envelope - the photo.

Why did you? You weren’t certain of that answer yourself. So, you went with the first explanation that came to your head.

“It’s a good picture of you,” you said quietly.

He rolled his eyes.

“Do not - I don’t hear from you for months, then I get this in the mail - on Christmas Eve, mind you -”

“I’m sorry, were you supposed to hear from me?”

“I don’t know!” he cried. “Maybe?”

You scoffed. “You can’t be serious - you made it very clear that you never wanted to see me again.”

“I - what?”

“I wish you well? Take care? We ended things, Steve - what else was I meant to think?”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“I don’t know. I guess part of me - it doesn’t matter. But, what am I supposed to make of this?” he asks, waving the envelope.

“I - Eddie gave me a bunch of pictures he took at my birthday party… I thought maybe you’d want that one.”

He took a tentative step closer towards you, gauging your reaction. You held your ground, not breaking eye contact.

“Is that the only reason?” he asked, voice low.

You felt your heartbeat quicken, your palms clammy - he really was just so handsome. Still, there was something so boyish about him, something that reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. He had cut his hair a bit, his summer tan faded - and he looked tired. Then again, you probably did too - you suddenly became conscious of the fact that you were in your pajamas, still looking like you had just woken up - you wished you could disappear, never to be perceived again.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “The only reason.”

He was close enough now that you could see his Adam’s Apple bob as he gulped, his eyes glancing up and down your form as he took a deep breath.

“Tell me that, when you sent this, there wasn’t at least a small part of you that hoped I’d respond - that, when you sent this, you hoped I’d call, or show up here. If there wasn’t, I’ll walk away right now, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

There it was - everything laid out on the table. So much was still unsaid - but, it was obvious that he also had been hurting the last few months, that he didn’t want this to end, maybe even nearly as much as you did.

“You really flew all the way here because I sent you a photo?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Of course I did.”

“You realize how crazy that is, right?”

He chuckled dryly.

“Well, they do say it makes you do crazy things.”

“...it?” you asked, voice wavering.

He nodded.

Oh.

“Come inside,” you murmured. “It’s pretty cold out there.”

As soon as the door was shut behind him, he began spiraling into a new explanation.

“I hope you know that I didn’t come here just to - you’re right, it is kind of crazy, but I didn’t know what else to do, after everything that happened -”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

You both stood there for a moment, eyes locked on eachother. Then, as if reading each other’s minds, you both moved at once - you crashed your lips into his, fast and desperate. He sighed against your lips, pulling you close as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

You felt like crying - you had missed him so much, more than you had realized - his voice, his warmth, his scent - it brought everything flooding back, the feelings you had buried in an attempt at self-preservation. But now, as you kissed him, you felt the tears well up, stinging your eyes as they rolled down your face, hot and fast.

“Whoa - baby, it’s okay - what’s wrong -”

Baby.

“Nothing,” you cried, wiping the tears away. “I just - I really fucking missed you.”

You felt stupid to admit it, but then again, didn’t he come close to confessing that himself just a few moments ago?

“I know, I know, baby - you have no fuckin’ idea -”

Another kiss, passionate and apologetic.

“I didn’t mean any of what I said that night,” you gasped, pulling him closer. “I was just so scared -”

“I know, me too, baby - m’sorry -”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

He was holding your face between his hands now, backing you up until you were pressed against the wall, his lips finding yours again. He titled his head down to nuzzle at your throat, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin there. You tipped your head back, giving him full access to do as he pleased. He kissed and nipped at your neck, until you were moaning and crying out his name, pulling at his coat until it fell off of his shoulders. You twisted your hands in his button-down, his hands squeezing tighter on your waist in response.

“Fuck, Steve,” you breathed. “I’m sorry -”

“Stop with that,” he said, firmly taking your face in his hands again, catching your lips in another gentle kiss. “You’re right, I just realy don’t want to talk anymore -”

Then he was kissing you again, swallowing your noises as you whined his name, fingers gripping his hair.

“Bedroom, now,” you told him. “Please -”

“Yeah, okay.”

He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, both of you stumbling down the small hallway and into your bedroom, Steve slamming the door closed behind him with his foot.

“No Robin?” he asked, lips finding your neck again.

“No - ah! She’s at Vickie’s tonight -”

“Thank Christ,” he growled. “I don’t know how quiet I’m capable of being right now.”

He was apparently as desperate as you were, lips finding yours hungrily as he pulled your oversized t-shirt over your head, eyes practically rolling to the back of his head when he saw your breasts.

“No bra?” he asked.

“I was lounging around, until you showed up -”

“Thank god,” he practically snarled, his hands finding the small of your back to pull you close.

You reached between yourselves, unbuttoning his shirt, fingers slipping as they shook with anticipation. He reached down to help you, until he eventually shrugged the shirt off. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your bare chest to his, nearly crying again from the contact.

“I really missed you,” he whispered, a man ruined. “I never thought I’d be able to have you like this again -”

“None of that,” you murmured, pressing a finger to his lips. “It’s alright.”

You just stared at him, running your hands down his chest as you took a deep breath.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, face flickering with concern. “Oh god, are - are you seeing someone else? I didn’t even ask -”

“No! No, nothing like that,” you assured, biting your lip. “I just - do you remember the night of my birthday on our trip, on the rooftop?”

He nodded. “That was a really nice night.”

“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” you admitted, heart racing as you were ready to lay out the thing you had been terrified to admit aloud.

“About what?” he asked softly, cupping your cheek gently with his palm.

“Remember when I said something in Italian, and you asked what it meant? And I just said it meant I loved the gift, the star thing?”

He nodded. You took a deep, shuddering breath.

“That wasn’t exactly true. I - I said that I was in love with you,” you managed, voice quivering at the end. “That’s why I was so scared - I didn’t realize until I said it… I had broken our rule, our number one rule -”

“Hey, hey -” he cooed, shaking his head. “Did you mean it?”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah - I still do.”

The few seconds that passed after that had your stomach doing somersaults - what if he still didn’t feel that way, and everything he had said in the doorway was bullshit? You thought you were going to be sick -

But his face softened, his eyes glistening - was he going to cry?

“Fuck the rules. I stopped following those a long time ago,” he said.

Your heart fluttered, your face heating.

“Are you saying -”

“How did you say it in Italian again?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I’ve been slacking on my lessons without you around.”

You laughed. “Oh, um, it’s sono innamorato di te. It translates directly as I’m in love with you, or I’m falling for you.”

He nodded. “Well then - sono innamorato di te.”

You felt like your chest was about to explode, and before you knew it, you were crying again. He was too, you realized, his cheeks glistening with tears as he choked a sob with laughter.

“We could’ve saved ourselves a lot of trouble if we both just said that in the first place,” he said, reaching to wipe away some of your tears.

“How long?” you asked.

“Since the night of the gala I brought you to. So… longer. I guess I win.”

You sobbed again, Steve swallowing the sound with another kiss. It’s wet and salty with tears, a mess of apologies and confessions.

“Steve - I -”

“I know, baby,” he whispered, kissing your salty cheeks. “It’s alright - I’m here now -”

The conversation truly stopped after that - you couldn’t keep your hands off of one another, shedding clothes until you were nude and devouring each other with desperation unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Steve was pressing his lips between your breasts when you asked, voice breathy and filled with need.

“Steve - I need you, please -”

“Mm - yeah, okay -”

Before he could move, you were reaching down to grasp his cock in your hand. He gasped, pupils blown as his head thumped back against the wall. The noise that came out of him was unholy, wrecked and ruined as you brushed your thumb along his leaking tip.

“Christ, baby -”

“Can I suck you off, please?” you asked, desperate to make him come undone.

“Honey - you can’t - I just, I wanna fuck you so bad… I won’t last if I let you get your mouth on me, baby.”

You pouted, even as your heart raced with the thrill of knowing you’d have him inside you again.

“Next time,” he said, “I swear.”

A promise of a next time, of a thousand more times - you started kissing him again, lips bruising his - losing yourself in any drink or drug would never compared to losing yourself in Steve Harrington, you decided.

“Get on the bed,” he muttered, gently pushing you back. You did as he asked, falling back onto the mattress gently as he joined you, face hovering inches from yours.

His hair was a mess, pupils blown and lips glossy. He just shook his head, as if in disbelief.

“What?” you asked.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he breathed.

You felt your face heat, and you buried your face in your hands.

“Shut up.”

“About you? Not likely.”

Before you could come up with a clever remark, he was kissing your neck again, his lips traveling down slowly between the valley of your breasts, taking his time - he was going to leave bruises, you already knew.

But he didn’t stop, traveling down, down, down -

“What are you -”

“I never said I didn’t want to taste you first,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I miss having my mouth on you so fuckin’ much -”

“Fuck,” you gasped. “You’re unreal -”

“Says you,” he retorted. Whatever you planned to say next died on your lips, anything resembling a coherent thought dissolving as his lips found your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, back arching as his tongue swirled around your clit.

“Just as fuckin’ sweet as I remembered,” he whispered, his breath against your pussy making your chest heave.

He licked a stripe along your slit, making your back arch off the bed, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Be loud for me, baby,” he murmured, lips finding your clit again. You did as he asked, moaning and crying out his name as he devoured your pussy, eliciting desperate sounds from you as your fingers wound themselves in his hair. He groaned as you pulled on his locks, encouraging you to continue doing so as he opted to slide a finger inside you.

“Fuck - Steve! Ohmygod, fuck -”

You felt him smile as he lapped and licked at your folds, adding a second finger and beginning to pump them in earnest, finding that spot inside of you too easily.

You were crying out, bucking your hips against Steve’s lips, like putty in his hands. For about ten minutes you were completely his, mind numb with pleasure as he took you apart with his mouth. You let him, feeling the blunt fingernails of his free hand digging into your thigh, pulling you as close as possible.

“Steve - I’m gonna - I’m so close, y’feel too good -”

Encouraged, he picked up the pace a bit, sending you completely over the edge. When you came, you saw stars, grinding down on Steve’s mouth and fingers. You were screaming, and he helped you through it, nuzzling against your core as you pulsed around his fingers. Your hand left his hair and found his temple, gently coaxing him closer as you rode out your orgasm.

You were still breathing heavily as he kissed his way slowly back up your body, worshiping every inch of skin he could find. YOu didn’t let your eyes open again until he was face-to-face with you, chin glistening with your release as he wore a smug grin.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmured. “Tasted so good… you came so hard for me -”

“Mm -” you hummed, pulling him down for a kiss. You tasted yourself on him, the sensation completely euphoric.

“Do you need some time?” he asked gently.

You ran a finger over your clit, still sensitive and puffy, and shook your head.

“No, I’m okay - I actually really need you to fuck me.”

“Thank god,” he said, exasperated. “I don’t think I can go another second without fucking you -”

“I know -”

“I would dream about you, you know - all the time. I’d wake up in the middle of the night with a hard-on, of a mess in my boxers like a fuckin’ teenager -”

“I know what you mean,” you admitted, recalling a few times you had thought of him as you touched yourself since he’d left.

“Please tell me you’re still on the fuckin’ pill -”

“Yeah, I am - God, Steve -”

“I know, I know - ready baby?”

You nodded, locking your eyes with his as he positioned himself above you, pushing inside of you ever so slowly. You could tell he was holding back, doing everything he could to not enter you in one rough movement. You winced at the stretch, nearly forgetting just how big he was. He kissed apologies across your face, gasping as he felt your warm walls envelope him.

“Fuck -” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “I can’t believe I went so long without this - you feel so fuckin’ perfect, baby - such a tight, perfect pussy -”

“You feel so good,” you breathed, digging your fingernails into his shoulderblades. “Steve - I’m so full, please fuck me -”

He did as you asked, rolling his hips against yours, eliciting a groan from both of you. He was still holding back you could tell - but you didn’t have time for that, not after months of missing him, of missing this -

“Let go, baby,” you whispered. “Please -”

“What did you just call me?” he asked.

“I - baby,” you repeated. You realized you never had before - was that wrong?

“Say it again,” he breathed.

“Baby,” you breathed, gasping as he thrust into you a little harder.

“Baby, please - fuck me, let go,” you cried.

It became fast and hard quickly, the desperation you shared impossible to mask. The slapping of his hips against yours was positively dirty, Steve’s arms caging you underneath him as he pounded into you. Your hand snaked down between you, your own finger finding your clit.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, continuing his relentless pace. “Touch yourself for me, just like that - M’not gonan last long, I’m sorry, you just feel too good -”

“It’s okay,” you assured, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I want you to lose it.”

He groaned, the room filling with the sound of slapping skin and moans, your names on each other’s lips.

Nothing else mattered, not when Steve was making you feel like this, not when he had flown across an ocean on a whim, a desperate hope to just see you again, even if only for a moment. You suddenly became so overwhelmed with love for this man, this person who had turned your world upside down - it was indescribable, impossible to even express. So you just held him tight, burying your face into his shoulder.

“M’close - I need you to come with me, baby - can you do that? I know you can, you’re always so good for me -”

You nodded, unable to formulate words anymore.

“I fuckin’ love you,” he cried, hips stuttering, his thrusts growing sloppier. “So much, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you - I love you, baby -”

His words sent you over the edge, white-hot pleasure surging through your body as you screamed his name. The feeling of you clamping around him sending him into his own orgasm. He spilled inside of you, your name on his lips like a prayer. He practically collapsed on top of you, the feeling of his heartbeat against yours feeling like home, like it was always meant to be this way.

Your breaths were labored, sweet kisses peppered across skin. Neither of you spoke for quite some time. After he rolled off of you, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close as physically possible.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, slow and gentle. It was only when you pulled back, brushing some of his sweaty hair away from his face, that you broke the silence.

“I love you, too,” you murmured. You brushed your fingers along his face, and he caught your wrist, pressing kisses to your palm and knuckles, as if determined to worship you every chance he got.

“I want more than an arrangement,” he whispered. “I don’t want rules, or a deal, or -”

“Yeah, that was obvious,” you replied, chuckling. “And, me too.”

“And, you were right - you have school, and I never wanted you to think I just wanted you like a trophy or something - you have your own life, aspirations, and i know that - I just like spoiling you, but I never wanted you to give up who you are,” he said, face soft. “I need you to know that.”

“I do,” you murmured.

You really did.

“Besides, I graduated.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What? When?”

“Officially? A few days ago.”

He smiled, soft and sincere - part of you was worried he might cry again.

“Congratulations - I’ll have to take you out to celebrate.”

“Mm - sounds good to me. How long - when are you here until?”

There was still life to reckon with, after all - living on two different continents, jobs, obligations - the kind of thing that could ruin this. But, he just shook his head.

“I bought an open-ended ticket. So, until whenever you want.”

“I - what? What about work?”

He shrugged. “Turns out, when you run the place, you can get away with that stuff.”

Your jaw dropped.

“What? Are you serious?”

He nodded. “Brenner’s out. I’m in - youngest CEO in the company’s history.”

You laughed, pressing your palm to your forehead as you stared at the ceiling in disbelief.

“Steve - that’s amazing. But how -”

“Shhh - we’ll figure everything out later. But, let’s at least ring in the new year together, yeah?”

You nodded cautiously - he really was here, now, and wanted to make it work.

“Okay,” you said. “Sounds good.”

“Hey - you know what’s really pissing me off, though?”

“What?” you asked, wary as a pit of dread formed in your gut.

“I have to thank Eddie fucking Munson for fixing this.”

You laughed, a real, hearty laugh, and in that moment, you realized things were going to be okay.

******

That night, you slept better than you had in months, safe and warm in Steve’s arms. That was, until you woke to Robin’s scream the next morning, both of you shooting up in bed with a start.

“WHAT IS HE DOING IN YOUR BED?” she cried, shielding her eyes. “God - I wish I could bleach my eyes - motherfucker -”

Then, the door was slamming shut, Robin bemoaning her luck as she bolted down the hall to her own room.

You felt your face heat with embarrassment, sinking under the covers.

“Well - I guess I owe her an explanation -”

“Later,” Steve saidly, shaking his head incredulously. “For Christmas, I’m getting you a fucking industrial lock for that door!”

Then you were laughing, blissful and unable to control yourself, Steve joining you. He kissed the giggles away, pulling your body to his, and not much talking happened after that.

It didn’t matter what real life held after this - because Steve was here, and he was yours. Wherever you ended up, you realized, if you were with Steve, you would be home.

He was here to stay.

author's note: Hi y'all - thanks for your patience! This story isn't quite done - there will be an epilogue posted tomorrow. But, that's essentially the conclusion of don't call me 'baby' - I told you it would be a happy ending! Shoutout to @is-writing for some help with this. And of course as always, Em, without whom this fic wouldn't have happened. Comments, reblogs, and messages are always welcome - keep an eye out for the epilogue!

#steve harrington #steve harrington/reader smut #steve harrington/you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington/reader angst #steve harrington/fem!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #dcmb fic

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katyswrites · 8 months

Text

don't call me 'baby'

PART 9 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst (so much angst, sorry), unprotected p in v, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), cum play, ddlg dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, kind of a derogatory reference to sex work, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 5.4k

PART 9 | forever the name on my lips

“So - Robin knows that this surprise party isn’t actually a surprise, right?” you asked.

Steve laughed over the phone.

“Uh, no - she 100 percent thinks you have no clue.”

You groaned. “I’m terrible at lying to her -”

“You’re not lying - look, you should see how excited she is -”

You rolled your eyes, putting the phone down on your desk and putting him on speaker.

“You’re an enabler, you know that?”

“I am not -”

“You so are!” you retorted. “Every year, Robin tries to make my birthday a bigger thing than it is - it’s always over-the-top, and never what I ask for. I usually just like, want to go get drinks, or watch my favorite movie at home, but she decides to invite over 40 of our closest friends instead, or pull out some trick to outdo the year before. Did you know that our first year we lived together, she almost burned our place down by putting 18 trick candles on my cake?”

“Your point being?”

You sighed, leaning over the desk closer to the mirror to put on your mascara.

“My point being that you’ve taken a monster, and given her a real budget this time.”

He laughed again, and the sound of it made your heart ache. You took a deep breath, thankful he couldn’t see you right now.

“Look, I think she’s doing this because she loves you - plus, she’s mad that I stole you away for your actual birthday, so this was my bribe.”

You sighed, stepping back to pull on your dress - another new one you had commissioned, thanks to Steve’s credit card.

“I’m going to really have to practice my surprised face,” you said sarcastically.

You reached for your earrings on the dresser, the ones Steve had bought you for the gala. You didn’t love the idea of walking around with a million dollars on your ears, but it was a special occasion, after all.

“What has she told you you’re allegedly doing?” he asked, voice tinny and slightly muffled through the phone’s speaker.

“Just meeting some friends for dinner - but, she said to dress a little nicer than usual. I can’t believe she thinks I don’t suspect anything.”

“Maybe she does - maybe you’re both putting up a silly charade for no reason, just to spare feelings.”

You nearly scoffed, but stopped yourself - he had no clue how much you were doing that with him already.

It had been nearly a week since you and Steve had returned from your birthday getaway. Since then, you had been spiraling. Every time you thought of him, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. When you were with him, it felt so right - when you were alone, you felt lonelier than you ever had before. You gave it a few days, just to see if the blissful environment of being on vacation was just tricking you into thinking you had real feelings for Steve. After all, that wasn’t reality… right?

But now, nearly a week later, you nearly felt sick when you thought about him - the sight of him made your heart flutter, every nice gesture and sweet compliment made your stomach flip and your face bloom with heat. You were hopelessly in love - you were so stupid.

Since the trip, you and Steve hadn’t spent much time together. Part of it was him getting slammed with work - a relief, honestly. It had given you time to try and have some rational thought, and sort out your feelings. You getting your period right upon return to Rome also put a dent in things - you hadn’t exactly been feeling up to sex, which Steve had been understanding about. But, this had only made things worse - he still took you out to dinner a few days ago, insisting on still wanting to see you, if you were up for it. Afterwards, you had gone back to his place and just put on a movie, falling asleep on the couch. It was the first time you had ever slept over without having sex - somehow, more intimate than anything you had done up to that point. In short - you were screwed.

But, now you had to go to this godforsaken birthday party, with Steve in front of all of your friends, and act like everything was fine. In some ways, it was. But in others… the end of summer was fast approaching. And, the thought of that left a pit in your stomach.

“You still there?” Steve’s voice asked.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, zipping up the back of your dress. “Sorry, I’m just getting ready -”

“What are you wearing?” he asked jokingly.

“Shut up -”

“Right - that’s for later,” he said. You could practically hear him smirking through the phone. You roll your eyes again.

“Well, I’m ready to go, and I’m sure Robin is itching to get me out the door, so - see you in a bit?”

“Yes - except, you don’t know that,” he said.

“Oh of course - well, I’ll be sure to act surprised.”

“I’m sure you’ll kill it - see you, bye,” he said, promptly hanging up.

You didn’t take time to dwell on it, how formal he still could be sometimes - reminding you of exactly who you were to him, you supposed - as Robin started knocking on your door, asking if you were ready to go.

“Just a minute!” you cried. You reached for the dresser for a final thing - the ruby necklace Steve had given you for your birthday. When you opened the bedroom door to an impatient Robin in the doorway, you were clasping it on.

“Jesus - where did you get that?” she asked, gesturing to the jewel on your sternum.

“Birthday gift from Steve.”

Robin crossed her arms, shaking her head.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing, it’s just - how’s that going?”

“Fine,” you lied. “I told you, the vacation was fun -”

“Doesn’t it all just seem - like a bit too much?” she asked cautiously.

“I - what do you mean -”

“Well - the trip, the gifts, being with him for hours on the phone every night - it just feels like he’s more than a - benefactor, sugar daddy, whatever you want to call it -”

You felt your face heat.

“Robin - no - it’s just - it’s an arrangement, and it’s going the way we both said it would -”

Robin just stared at you for a moment, and sighed with defeat.

“Whatever you say. Just - be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt again -”

“I’m fine,” you said firmly. “I promise.”

A lie.

“C’mon - let’s go out,” you said, quickly changing the subject and heading for the door.

Robin didn’t get the chance to argue further.

*****

You took the bus towards the city center, walking a few blocks before reaching one of your favorite restaurants - you and Robin frequented the bar more than the tables, often going there to celebrate the end of the semester, or to drink your sorrows away after a breakup or shitty week.

“You could have just said we were coming here,” you said, letting Robin take your hand to lead you inside.

Robin just shrugged, and you could tell she was fighting a grin - she really is terrible at keeping secrets. But, you did your best to keep your face neutral.

When you walked inside, the place was dimly lit. You could practically feel Robin’s anticipation behind you, and felt inwardly thankful that she couldn’t see your face. Then, the lights flashed on, and you were bombarded with an uproaring “SURPRISE!”

Even though you were anticipating it, you still jumped - it was far more people than you had been expecting.

“Holy shit -”

Robin was practically bouncing, grinning. “Happy birthday, babe.”

You shook your head. “I - did you invite like, everyone we know?”

She nodded excitedly. “Mm hm! And the whole place is rented out, so it’s just us - open bar too!”

How much did this cost Steve? you wondered.

“Robin - you really didn’t have to do all this -”

“Oh hush - your boy toy took you away from me on your birthday, so we’re celebrating now.”

You laughed, pulling Robin in for a quick hug.

“Thanks, Robs.”

She was positively beaming, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you’ve known about this for two weeks, that Steve had told you when he and Robin had been texting, how he had put his credit card down for the whole thing. So, you just smiled, and squeezed her tighter.

“Well,” she said when she pulled away, “you need a drink - your usual?”

You nodded, watching as she headed over to the bar. Soon enough, it was a whirlwind of friends, classmates, old co-workers, and essentially anyone you would even consider a friendly acquaintance swarming you, giving you a hug and wishing you happy birthday. There was even a DJ, playing all of your favorite music, the tables cleared to the sides to make the space empty enough to fit everyone - you were certain the evening would descend into dancing soon enough. Robin soon enough returned with your drink, and you let yourself actually relax.

Then, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, and you feel yourself jump. You turn, smiling.

“Hey there, baby,” Steve said, pulling you close.

When did he start calling you that outside of the bedroom?

“Fancy seeing you here,” you joked. He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“What do you think of your party?” he asked.

“I think you’ve been too good to me.”

“Well, this was all Robin - I just helped.”

“If that’s what you’re telling yourself - I - thank you,” you whispered. “You really didn’t have to.”

He waved you off. “Nonsense - I like spoiling you. You look beautiful, by the way,” he added, his fingers coming to brush the pendant hanging from your neck.

The butterflies were back. Fuck.

“Only because you give me such pretty things to wear,” you retorted.

He laughed. “I’ll buy you every pretty thing you want, baby.”

Your heart fluttered, and you looked down into your glass to avoid eye contact.

Then, a familiar voice was calling your name. You looked up, and smiled.

“Eddie?”

“Bella, look at you!” he said, bounding over and pulling you out of Steve’s grasp and into a tight hug. You laughed, Eddie practically lifting you off of your feet.

“You’re stunning, as always -” he says once he puts you down.

“Oh, shut up - flattery will get you nowhere -”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Can’t blame a man for trying, right?”

He then glanced over your shoulder.

“Steve, right?”

Steve nodded stiffly, forcing a smile.

“You two look gorgeous - want a picture?” Eddie asked, holding up the camera hanging around his neck.

“Oh, sure - Steve?” you asked, turning to silently plead with him.

Then he was back by your side again, arm snaking around your waist and pulling you close.

“Smile!” Eddie said from where he was crouching behind the lens. You did, posing for the photo. The shutter started rapid-fire clicking, and after a moment, you felt Steve’s lips on your cheek, and your face heated. You did your best to ignore it, letting Eddie get a few more shots as you pressed closer into him.

“What a beautiful couple!” Eddie proclaimed, grinning into the viewfinder.

“Oh - Eddie, we’re -”

“She’s doing the heavy-lifting there!” Steve joked. You froze, unsure how to even address that. But Eddie just chuckled, saying something along the lines of you didn’t need to tell me that! and walking away, making a beeline for the bar.

Before you could say anything to Steve, Robin is running over, taking you by the hands.

“Sorry Steve, can I steal her?”

He nodded with a smile, letting go of you as Robin pulled you through the crowd, babbling on about how Vickie’s ex had the audacity to show up, and how someone brought their boyfriend uninvited, and a hundred other things you would normally care about.

Steve hadn’t said no when Eddie called you a couple - what the fuck?

But, the next few hours were a whirlwind - you had lost count of how many drinks you had, catching up with friends you hadn’t seen all summer, learning who's dating who, what their plans were for the upcoming semester, asking how you’re doing - you decidedly did not mention that you had spent all summer as the mistress of a man a decade older than you - still, it felt nice to see your friends again, to catch up and try to relax. You ate your fill in the food spread that had been put out, all of your favorite things from the menu, a few extra things that Robin must have requested specially. So many of your friends remarked on how well you looked, how you were glowing, admiring your jewelry and asking where you got it (which, you pointedly lied about). Even Jonathan Byers showed up, the sweet yet introverted guy who you had befriended in one of your art courses. You were chatting with him and Eddie about their upcoming photography portfolios when you saw Steve again, approaching with a new drink for you.

“Oh, hey,” you said, accepting it gratefully.

“Having fun?” Steve asked, casting a glance to your friends.

“Yeah! Uh, Steve, you know Eddie, and this is Jonathan - not sure if you two met yet.”

“Nice to meet you,” Steve said, extending his hand. Jonathan hesitated, then took it, letting Steve shake it firmly.

Then, Steve’s lips pressed to your ear, whispering, “Want to dance?”

You bit your lip, nodding, and bid farewell to the other boys for now. The makeshift dance floor was starting to fill up now, your friends moving along to the music and spilling drinks onto the floor.

“So, does Eddie know how to button a shirt?” Steve asked sarcastically.

You huffed.

“Don’t tell me you’re still jealous -”

“I - I’m not. He’s just - he’s such a flirt -”

‘He’s a flirt with everyone - he’d shoot his shot with you, if I left you two alone.”

Steve’s face turned red at that.

“I - uh -”

“Besides,” you whispered, pulling him closer by his shirt collar, admiring the way his chest hair just barely peeked out of the open top button, “I kind of like how easily he gets you riled up.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

You closed your eyes, swaying to the music.

“When was the last time you did something like this?” you asked over the cacophony, gesturing to the club-like atmosphere around you. He laughed.

“I’m not that old - but, probably not since a little after I finished college… when I started working, I didn’t really have the energy for… all of this. And… Nancy never liked it much anyway.”

You felt your heart sink, and shook your head. You were properly tipsy, had the confidence to pull Steve toward you, taking his hands in yours.

“Then - dance with me like you’re 20 again, yeah?”

“Again, I’m not old -”

“Will you just shut up and dance?” you said, pulling him close. He obliged, letting you bury your face into his neck as you swayed along to the music.

He twirled you, watched on fondly as you found your friends on the dance floor, and laughed as he saw how excited each new song made you. At one point, you caught him looking at you in the corner of your eye - he wore an expression so soft, so sincere, that he was almost unrecognizable.

“What is it?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing - I just -”

“Where’s the birthday girl?” Robin’s voice called from the other end of the room. The music faded, and she came out from behind the bar with a massive cake, lit with what you guessed were probably 21 candles.

“Everyone! 1 - 2 - 3-”

Then everyone was singing you Happy Birthday, pushing you towards the front to where Robin stood, wearing a wide smile.

“Make a wish,” she whispered.

You sighed, knowing exactly what to wish for, and leaned down to blow out the candles to boisterous applause.

“Chocolate cake with mousse, of course - your favorite,” Robin said, serving you the first slice.

“I’d expect nothing less,” you replied, accepting it gratefully - it’s been the kind of cake you’ve gotten for every birthday for as long as you remembered. Even your parents remembered that each year, to their credit.

“Want a slice?” you asked, turning to Steve.

“Oh - no, I’m okay -”

“At least taste a bite?”

He sighed, smiling in defeat.

“Yeah, okay.”

You took a forkful and held it out to him, feeding it into his mouth. He groaned at the taste, fighting a smile.

“Yeah, okay - that’s delicious -”

“I told you -”

Then Steve reached out, gently wiping away what you presumed was some smeared chocolate from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Did you have a nice birthday party?” he asked softly.

“Yeah - I did. Just - everything for my birthday was wonderful. I - thank you.”

Then he was pulling you close and kissing you, on the lips, in front of everyone. You let your eyes flutter shut and leaned into the kiss, tasting just a bit of chocolate on his lips, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.

You pulled away, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“What was that for?”

He shrugged.

“I just really wanted to do that - is that okay?”

You nodded, eyes flitting to his lips again as your stomach did a somersault. You were so aware of eyes on you two, some whispers floating through the room despite the loud music, but you pulled him down for another kiss again, lacing your hands around the back of his neck.

“Take me home with you,” you whispered against his lips.

“Now?”

“Now.”

Then he was grabbing your hand, only slowing down as you bid goodbye to Robin, thanking her for the party, and you both practically bolted towards the door.

*****

It was nearly midnight by the time you reached Steve’s place - not that it mattered. You had jumped him nearly the second you got in the car he had called, closing the privacy shield between yourselves and the driver. You technically behaved yourselves - clothes stayed on, at least. But you kissed him like you needed him more than oxygen, all tongue and desperate gasps as you moved to straddle his lap in the backseat. You were grinding on his thigh, palming him through his pants like horny teenagers in their mom’s old Honda.

You tore out of the car like bats out of Hell when you reached his apartment building, only maintaining self-control in the elevator thanks to the old man who got on with you and rode it most of the way. The moment you tumbled through Steve’s door, you were all over each other, shedding clothes in a trail leading to the bedroom.

“I missed this,” you breathed against his mouth, shedding him of his button-down.

“Me too,” he said, reaching to unzip your dress and let it fall to the floor.

“Steve - I want to thank you - for my birthday party - for everything -”

“Mm, okay - yeah baby, whatever you want -”

It was desperate, messy, and filled with carnal need, Steve tearing your undergarments off as he practically threw you onto the bed. He wasted no time, eating you out like your pussy gave him oxygen, making you cum on his tongue twice before even taking his pants off. You pulled on his hair, crying out his name as he coaxed your orgasms out of you, slowly kissing his way back up your body until his face hovered above yours. He was grinning, his chin glistening with your release, and you could have just stared at that forever.

“Steve, please -” you begged, “I need you -”

“I know, baby,” he said, crawling over you. “I just wanted to take care of you first, it’s okay -”

Then he was kissing you, fumbling with his belt and shedding himself of his boxers, pulling you close.

It had only been a week, but you nearly screamed when he entered you, gasping at the stretch.

“Fuck - you’re always so tight and perfect, baby - I haven’t fucked you since we got back to the city, it was drivin’ me nuts -”

“Me too,” you mewled, clawing at his back as he began to thrust into you. “Steve - please fuck me, please -”

And he did. But, the earlier desperation had faded - he rolled his hips into yours slowly, holding you close as he groaned into your skin. He pressed kisses to your neck, showering you with praises and sweet nothings in your ear. It didn’t feel like primal, needy sex - it almost felt like making love. He was soft, gentle, but knew your body better than anyone by now, touching you in all the right places.

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect -” he murmured, smirking as you moaned at a particularly deep thrust, “my whole life, I’ve been looking for a pussy like yours, baby -”

“I - ah! Fuck, I - I know what you mean. You fuck me like nobody else - daddy, I -”

“I know, baby,” he said, pressing gentle kisses across your face. “Look at you, wearin’ the fuckin’ jewelry I bought you as I fuck you - I love when you do that - you’ve been so good, letting me spoil you all summer - like a good girl, I can’t believe it -”

He was rambling now, and you knew that meant he was close. You wrapped your legs around his torso, digging your heels into his back to pull him in impossibly deeper. Pleasure pulsed through your body, heat gathering in your abdomen, and you started meeting his thrusts with your hips in earnest.

“You close?” he asked.

“Yes - I’m going to cum all over your cock, sir -”

“Thank god - I’m not going to last much longer -”

“I know - let go,” you said, pulling him down for a messy kiss. He groaned against your lips, his cock twitching a bit inside you.

“I just wanna stay buried in this pussy, baby - forever -”

“I know,” you whispered. “I never want this to end.”

You never wanted any of it to end.

But you held onto him with desperation, losing yourself in the feel of him, his scent, the sound of his voice -

All that was running through your mind was I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIlo-

Then you were coming, convulsing around him with a scream. You arched off of the mattress, burying your face in his shoulder as your orgasm washed over you in waves, ebbing and flowing gently instead of crashing all at once. He followed moments later, hips stuttering as he filled you, your name on his lips like it was a sacred thing.

You both stayed like that for a while - you stared at the ceiling, soothingly running your fingers through his hair as he lazily kissed your neck. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but eventually he began to soften, forcing him to pull out of you and roll over onto your back by your side.

You turned your head on the pillow to face him - he was blissed out, smiling as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I think that was our best yet,” he whispered.

You hummed in agreement - you had felt it the night of your birthday in the villa, too - something had shifted in bed. Yyou couldn’t quite place it. But, you knew it scared the hell out of you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing the backs of his fingers along your arm.

“Mm, yeah - just thinking.”

“About what?” he asked, propping himself on his elbow. “What’s going on in that pretty little mind?”

You could’ve cried from the gentleness in his voice, your heart fluttering a bit as you looked at him - you did your best to memorize his face, the way his hair fell, every freckle and mole along his body - and it hit you that this was ending soon. You didn’t even realize you had started to cry - but, hot tears were rolling down your cheeks, and you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

“Whoa - you okay? What’s going on?” he asked - he sounded terrified.

“It’s nothing - don’t worry about it -” you said, sitting up.

“Baby, you’re crying - of course I’m going to be worried -”

“Why?” you cried, the question coming out harsher than you had intended.

His face flashed with confusion and concern, and he sat up, too.

“What do you mean why?”

“Because - because you’re not supposed to care!”

“I - I don’t understand -”

“Steve! What the fuck are we doing here?”

“We - we were having a nice night, I thought - now I don’t -”

You wiped your tears, groaning with frustration.

“Steve - I don’t know how to be around you. You said this was just for sex, right? All fun, no feelings, all that bullshit? We literally wrote it down -”

His face went more neutral, and he nodded.

“Well, yes - that was the arrangement -”

“So then you don’t get to ask me what’s wrong - you don’t get to ask me how my day was, plan my birthday party with my best friend, call me nearly every night, name a goddamn star after me -”

“Whoa - you don’t like that I did those things?”

“No!” you screamed, frustrated. “I don’t like that you’re being my boyfriend!”

“I - I’m not your boyfriend.”

“Oh, you’ve made that very clear - so you can stop acting like it!”

You didn’t realize how loud your voice had gotten, your breakdown quickly pivoting to unbridled anger and frustration.

“I’m not - so what, you want me to fuck you and just send you home? Like a goddamn prostitute?”

“Well maybe if you had done that in the first place you would’ve saved yourself a whole lot of trouble!” you screamed.

He went silent for a moment, just staring at you. You sighed, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“Steve, look - this summer - I mean, it’s been amazing. I really mean that. But, the summer is ending soon - when do you even go back to the States?”

“September 1st,” he said quietly.

You froze, your heart plummeting. “Jesus Christ, that’s in like two weeks - when were you going to tell me?”

He stared down at his hands, shaking his head.

“I - I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you - I just wanted you to enjoy tonight, and not ruin it, I know it sounds ridiculous, but I figured if I didn’t tell you, it would make it less real -”

“So you were just going to disappear on me?”

“No! No - I -”

He throws his head into his hands.

“Steve - look me in the eyes and tell me this is still just an arrangement for you.”

A moment of silence passes - there it was, your cards laid on the table. Your heart was thudding in your chest, waiting for his answer.

He sighed, and looked over to meet your gaze.

“Of course it isn’t.”

Your stomach flipped, and you felt like you were going to be sick - oh God -

“Then - what the fuck do we do?”

He shook his head.

“I - I don’t know,” he admitted. “I - I don’t know what the fuck is even going on. I told myself I wouldn’t get… attached, and now -”

You scoffed.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s just - attached? Like a fucking dog you found on the street and have to give back to its owners or something?”

“Well, what would you call it?”

You paused - you considered confessing everything, that you were past the point of falling for him. No, you couldn’t - you needed to keep that close to your chest, not give him the upper hand.

“Steve - maybe we should just end this,” you said, the words feeling like a knife to the chest as they left your mouth.

“What? No - I - I don’t want to -”

“Steve - you said it yourself - if we got any personal feelings, we would stop the whole thing, before it got too far - we’re only delaying the inevitable anyway -”

“Come back with me,” he blurted out.

You stop mid-sentence, eyes widening.

“I - what?”

“Come back to Chicago with me - we can just do it. I can take care of you -”

“Steve - I can’t -”

“Why not?”

You just laughed dryly.

“Because - I have a life here. I have friends, a semester left before I get my degree -”

“You won’t need to work if you -”

“You really don’t get it, do you? I want to finish school, actually achieve something, and do something that matters to me. I know, you look down on me as some downtrodden peasant or something -”

“No, that’s not it -”

“But I’m smart, and when I’m done with school - I may not be rich like you, but I’ll be able to work for a living, and actually support myself. I don’t want to just exist for you -”

“I didn’t mean that,” he said - you were both raising your voices again. “This summer…it’s the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Maybe ever, actually. I just - I want to help you -”

“Well stop! I don’t need you!” you screamed.

He went silent for a moment.

“That’s what Nancy said, too,” he said quietly.

You sighed, your heart breaking for him.

“Steve - I didn’t know -”

“Maybe there’s a reason,” he continued, staring down to avoid your gaze. “I mean - you’re right - I’m meant to be alone.”

“I never said that -”

“You didn’t have to.”

You both sat in silence for a moment, unable to say anything else.

“Steve - I’m sorry that this is where the night went. But… we both knew this was coming. I - I think we’re going to both get hurt if we try to keep it going.”

He nodded, shoulders sagging.

“You’re probably right.”

There it was. The moment you had been dreading.

The silence was deafening - neither of you daring to look at one another, letting the weight sink in of everything just said. You were certain you were going to be sick.

“I - I should probably give these back,” you said quietly, gesturing to the earrings and necklace. You reached up to take them off, but he gently placed his hand on yours to stop you.

“No - keep it. Keep everything.”

“Steve -”

“No - nothing that I gave you was a loan. It’s yours. Keep onto the credit card, too.”

“Steve - I can’t do that -”

“Sure you can. Only use it for emergencies, if it makes you feel better to do that. As long as you don’t go over the limit… it’s yours.”

You shook your head.

“I can’t -”

“Please,” he said, eyes pleading. “At least until you’re done with school - focus on your studies, I’ll take care of it.”

“But - I’m not giving you anything in return -”

“Doesn’t matter. I promised to help you with school, and - I’m a man of my word.”

You sighed with defeat.

“I - I think I should go.”

“Probably best,” he said coldly. You couldn’t even blame him for that.

You gathered your things quickly, pulling your dress back on. He rose to follow you to the door, pulling on his boxers as he went. He stood in the doorway as you left, his face stoic - was he angry? Or did he just feel nothing? Maybe the latter - you were in love… and he had grown attached, whatever that meant.

“I guess this is goodbye,” you whispered.

“I suppose so.”

He won’t look at you.

“Steve - you’re going to find someone someday who’s right for you, okay? Someone you’ll actually want to be with. Then you won’t need - you won’t need someone like me. You’ll forget all about this - I know you will.”

Something softened in his face, and he shook his head.

“I somehow doubt that.”

You stared down at the ground.

“I guess this is goodbye,” you murmured.

He nodded.

“I wouldn’t change any of it,” he said quietly.

You could actually feel your heart breaking, crackling and splitting like it was made of porcelain. You still avoided eye contact, afraid you’d cry if you looked at him.

“My car can take you home,” he added. “I don’t want you taking the bus this late, okay?”

You nodded solemnly. As you turned to leave, he said one more thing that stopped you in your tracks.

“Wait - I just wanted to say -”

He stopped for a moment, running his hand through his hair as he took a deep breath.

“I wish you well.”

That was it - the final nail in the coffin. The end of a failed negotiation, a transaction. You nodded firmly, turning quickly on your heels and walking straight ahead to the elevator, refusing to look back at him.

The moment you slid into the car, you gave the driver your address and closed the privacy shield again. But now, it was so you could sob into your hands, feeling your heart break in half as you pulled away from his apartment for the last time.

author's note: hi everyone - sorry about this chapter. The next part will be the finale - plus, an epilogue. I'll probably just write those together and post them in quick succession. Don't panic - you guys know I don't like writing sad endings (or if I do, I leave massive warnings). So, hang tight - it's going to be okay. Please let me know your thoughts - comments, reblogs, and messages are always appreciated!

534 notes · View notes

katyswrites · 11 months

Text

don't call me 'baby'

PART 8 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, unprotected p in v, daddy kink, oral sex (f & m receiving), cum play, ddlg dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 10.2k

Notes: I know, the Italian/descriptions of this area of Italy are not 100% accurate. Sue me! But seriously, I wasn't too focused on accuracy, so just take it as it is!

PART 8 | drinkin' on the beach (with you all over me)

“So, will you tell me where we’re going yet?” you asked slyly.

“You’ll see when we get there,” he replied, fighting a smile. He extended the hand not carrying your suitcase, which you took as you descended the rest of the steps.

“I just don’t get why you’re not -”

You stopped mid-sentence, realizing what Steve was leading you towards.

“Is that -?”

Your question was answered as he popped the trunk of the red Ferrari, placing your suitcase inside.

“It’s mine. Well, ours, I guess. For the week.”

“You’re - you can’t just rent a car like this -”

“I can,” Steve said, slamming the trunk close. He smiled smugly, then shrugged. “I know a guy.”

You managed to pick your jaw up from where it was hanging and rolled your eyes.

“Of course you do,” you said, making your way to the passenger side. “So -”

“Hop in,” he said, opening the door for you. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

You took his hand and let him help you in, Steve closing the door behind you and coming around until he was in the driver’s seat, right next to you.

“Wow,” you said under your breath.

“What is it?”

“I just - I realized I’ve never actually seen you drive before. Or, been in the front of a car with you, really.”

He chuckled, sitting back in his seat.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything. Ready?”

You nodded, clicking on your seatbelt as he pulled away from the curb.

“So - what did you say to Robin to get her to agree to taking me away all week? She usually loves to go all-out for my birthday, as much as I tell her she doesn’t have to.”

He shrugged. “I’m pretty good at sweet talking.”

You thought about your roommate for a moment, and the idea of her being sweet-talked into anything, and snorted. “Cute, what did you actually do?”

A pause. Then, “I promised I’d pay for your belated birthday party. Whatever she has planned, I said I’d help make it happen.”

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You don’t understand! Robin loves birthdays! And like, I don’t hate them, but I’ve just never been much of a big celebrator or anything, and she always goes nuts. And now you’re giving her a budget? You’ve created a monster, Harrington.”

He laughed, reaching down to take your hand. He gave it a tight squeeze.

“Well, I’m sorry. But, I’ll do my best to rein her in, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure, good luck with that.”

It’s only several minutes later, after you’ve both laughed it off, that you realized he was still holding your hand as he drove. Had he ever done something like that before? Before you could dwell on it, you pulled your hand away, hoping that reaching for the water bottle in the cupholder made it seem nonchalant.

You cleared your throat.

“So - can I know where we’re going yet?”

“You certainly can guess, if you want.”

You sighed, throwing your head back against the headrest.

“Okay - well, you said I didn’t need a passport, so we’re not flying anywhere. And, you said to pack bathing suits, so I’m guessing the beach, or pool, maybe. So, staycation? In Italy, somewhere?”

His face remained neutral. “Maybe.”

“You’re impossible.”

He chuckled, taking a moment to glance over at you.

“Just, trust me, yeah?”

After a moment, you sighed, giving up.

“Yeah, okay.”

As you drove out of the city, you turned the conversation towards his business trip. You asked him about work, how it went, and leaned back and listened. He mostly vented about it, but you paid it no mind - in reality, it was just nice to be with him again. You tried not to think about that part of it too much, though.

The highrises and busy city streets began quieting, giving way to residential townhouses and open roads. The traffic had lessened, the scenery becoming greener, the road narrower.

“So, how long until we get there?” you asked.

“About 4 hours, give or take,” he said. “It’ll be worth the road trip, I promise.”

“I don’t mind a road trip.”

Not with him, you didn’t.

You found yourself glancing over at Steve every now and then - he had only been gone a week, and you had forgotten just how unabashedly handsome he was in-person. As he stared straight ahead at the road, you took in his side profile, and the way his hazel eyes shone in the sunlight, his hands gripped firmly on the wheel.

Feeling your eyes on him, he spared a glance in your direction. Instead of looking away, you just felt yourself smiling, keeping eye contact.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing - it’s just… you really didn’t have to do… whatever this is. You spoil me, you know.”

His hand found itself on your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

“It’s my favorite thing to do, baby.”

Baby. He had started calling you that more often now outside of the bedroom. You didn’t protest when he kept that hand there, for most of the drive.

Eventually, you found yourself dozing off, the steady motion of the car and low hum of the radio lulling you to sleep. You only found yourself waking when the car came to a halt, blinking groggily.

In front of you was a pier, boats bobbing in the water as cars lined up. The sea stretched out before you, bright blue in the late morning light.

“What are we -”

“We’re catching a ferry,” Steve said.

“So, an island vacation?”

He just shrugged, pulling the car up to the dock to load on. You sighed.

“You know, I barely had any idea what to pack. I just threw stuff into a bag.”

“Don’t worry about that - I brought another suitcase for you, bought you some stuff.”

“Of course you did.”

You still had the inner instinct to lecture him, to berate him for spending so much money on you. But, you couldn’t ignore the way he grinned, proud of being able to spoil you. If you asked him to bring you the stars, he’d probably find a way.

The ferry trip was about an hour long, Steve following you to the upper deck to stretch your legs. You leaned on the edge, looking down at the water below you, the wake of the boat making the bright blue water churn into white seafoam. The salt air blew through your hair, Steve’s arm finding its way around your waist.

Before too long, you found yourselves back in the car and driving off the ferry. You took a moment to assess your surroundings, blinking in the afternoon sun. The port was busy, green hills and rocky mountains stretching out before you in the distance, dotted with colorful buildings. The sea was sparkling, clear as day with an aquamarine hue. The harbor was bustling, boats of all sized docking at the port. People rode their bikes along the pier, the sounds of the water breaking along the coast a consistent din in the background.

“Okay, now can you tell me where we are?”

Steve laughed.

“Yes - It’s called Ischia Island. It’s kind of become a tourist trap recently, but don’t worry, we’re going to the other side of the island - it’s much quieter.”

“I don’t care about that -”

“I know, but - I guess it’d be nice to have some privacy, you know?”

So you let Steve continue to drive, bypassing the main port and heading up the small dirt road, slowly climbing the mountains. It was beautiful - from up here, the views of the coast were breathtaking. For the first time, you truly realized how much Steve wanted to make this special, pulling out all of the stops for you. In all of your time in Italy, you had never had the time or money to do anything touristy, let alone take an actual vacation. Suddenly, it was nearly overwhelming. You glanced over with Steve, taking him in for a moment. Then, the idea hit you.

“How far are we?”

“Close - probably like 15 minutes. I think you’re going to like where we’re staying.”

“Is this road busy?” you asked quietly.

“Here? No, not really. It’s pretty quiet, I kind of wanted it to be -”

“Okay, good,” you said, cutting him off. “Because you’re going to find a place to pull over.”

He glanced over at you, perplexed.

“Why? Are you feeling alright?”

You nodded, leaning across the console to press your lips to his ear.

“I want to thank you, Harrington. Preferably by sucking your cock.”

You were surprised he didn’t drive the car over the edge of the road and into the ocean.

*******

You and Steve didn’t reach your destination until about 45 minutes later, after you had your way with him. In the end, he was a mess, begging you to put him out of his misery after prolonged teasing from the passenger seat. Afterwards, you were shocked he was even capable of driving again.

Finally, though, you saw it - the place you were presumably staying. Steve pulled the car up a small dirt driveway, to where a beautiful villa was tucked at the top of a hill. Its white stucco exterior was striking against the rolling green mountains, stone steps leading up to it. Steve helped you out of the car, gesturing to the house behind him.

“Is this -”

“It’s all ours, baby,” he said, beaming.

“I - I just assumed we were staying at a hotel or something -”

He nearly scoffed. “A hotel? No way, not for this. It’s just us here, the whole place to ourselves.”

He popped the trunk, pulling out the bags, insisting to take yours, too.

You practically bounded up the steps, not even containing your excitement as Steve unlocked the door and waved you in.

Inside, it was bright and airy, the white walls stretching up to high, arched ceilings. There was an open kitchen and eating area, the floor a beautiful blue and white mosaic pattern. With the windows open and curtains pulled aside, the villa was bathed in sunlight. You found yourself going towards the back of the house, gasping at what you saw. Before you was a balcony, with a breakfast nook and, most notably, a pool. But, the most stunning part was the view. The Tyrrhenian Sea stretched before you, sparkling and bluer than the sky, the city barely visible behind the trees. It smelled like salt and citrus, presumably from the trees abundant with fresh fruit. For the first time, you understood what people meant when they said paradise.

You felt Steve coming up behind you, his presence strong and warm.

“Well - what do you think?”

You paused for a moment, turning around slowly to face him. He looked down at you expectantly, and you reckoned he’d probably be crossing his fingers right now if you couldn’t see them. For some reason, he still thought you were hard to impress.

“You did all this… just for me?”

He nodded.

Before he could even say anything else, you had his face in your hands, kissing him so fiercely that you could barely breathe. He pulled you closer, fingers digging into the small of your back. It was only when you pulled away to catch your breath that you spoke again.

“Where’s the bedroom?”

******

You hadn’t even taken time to explore the rest of the house, tumbling into bed with Steve without a moment’s hesitation. Neither of you took your time, too hasty to touch one another after being separated all week. Steve made quick work of your clothes, pulling you into his lap before sliding into you. You nearly cried at the feeling of him inside you again. Sex with Steve was like a drug, and you were finally able to admit to yourself that you were addicted. It wasn’t long before you were both messes, coming undone in a matter of minutes.

“Fuck,” he whispered, lips pressed to your neck. “So fuckin’ perfect, baby - just like that, oh fuck -”

He was thrusting faster now, practically pounding up into you. You dug your nails into his back, dragging them down as you writhed in his arms, hips meeting his thrusts. Your finger picked up the pace on your clit, and you felt yourself losing control. You bounced in his lap, legs caging him as he pulled you closer.

“Oh, I - ah! Steve - oh, shit, just like that - you feel so good -”

“Yeah? You like when daddy stuffs you with his cock?” he grunted.

“Mm, yeah - I’m so full, I feel you everywhere -”

“Keep squeezin’ me, baby - shit, you’re really going for it, so wet - are you close?”

You bit your lip and nodded, moaning as you felt the tension building in your core.

“Yeah, so close - I’m gonna cum -”

“Damn right you are - such a good girl, always cumming on daddy’s cock.”

“Only for you,” you whispered in his ear, pulling him closer, arms wrapping around the nape of his neck. That was the final straw for Steve - he cried out your name, hips stilling as he painted your walls with his cum. You felt the warmth of him fill you, and you sighed. He stayed there, heavily for a moment.

“Fuck,” he said after a moment. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you ran your fingers along his scalp soothingly.

“Wait,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “Did you finish?”

You considered lying - it was nearly instinctual, having done it with other partners in the past. But, there was something about Steve that made it impossible to lie to him.

“No,” you admitted. “But, I came close, really close - you always make me cum, it still was good -”

“Nope, not happening,” he said, brow setting with determination.

“What are you -”

But he was reaching down, thumb finding your clit where your bodies met, his softening cock still inside you.

“Steve, what are you - oh! Shit, I -”

You threw your head back, feeling yourself re-approaching your peak as he rubbed deep circles around the bundle of nerves, slowly picking up the pace.

“Steve - you’re still inside -”

“I know,” he whispered. “I want you to cum around me, can you do that, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, gasping as his free hand found your breast. “I’m going to cum on your cock, because I’m your good girl -”

“And tomorrow,” he said, coating his fingers in the slick mix of both of you to stimulate your clit, “you’re going to cum over and over, until you can’t walk. I need to make up for it, gonna make you forget your own name, baby.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, feeling yourself squeezing around him. “I’m gonna -”

“Let go,” he encouraged. “Do it, for me, baby.”

And you did. You screamed his name, pulsing and convulsing around his cock as he continued to work you through it. He was still working on your clit, gradually slowing down as you let the wave of pleasure wash through you.

After, you both just stayed there, tangled in each other as you struggled to regain your breath. You felt his heart thudding against yours, bathing in the afterglow as he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you,” you finally admitted. “I missed this.”

His hand stilled. For a moment, you wondered if you had said the wrong thing, if you had crossed a line. But, then:

“I missed you too,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into your skin.

You felt your face heat, and just pulled him closer to you, deciding not to say anything else, at risk of doing something you couldn’t come back from.

After a while, you found yourselves laying in bed in a comfortable silence. You could hear the crashing waves and cries of seagulls in the distance. You propped yourself up on your elbow, properly looking at the man beside you.

“So - now that we’re here - what’s the plan? For today?”

Steve stared up at the ceiling, thinking.

“Well, we really only have the afternoon now, so - I’ve got stuff for us to do over the next few days, so it’s really up to you. We can go into town, or hit the beach. Or, just hang out here - what do you think, birthday girl?”

You rolled your eyes.

“It’s not my birthday yet -”

“As far as I’m concerned, this entire week is your birthday, baby.”

You felt your heart flutter, and bit your lip.

“Well, if I get to decide - beach?”

He grinned, reaching across to brush some hair out of your face.

“Sounds perfect, baby.”

******

Steve had presented you with a new bathing suit and beach cover-up, practically demanding to see you in it immediately. And, you rarely found it in yourself to say no to him. When he first saw you wearing it, you were genuinely concerned he was going to immediately ruin it by tearing it off of your body. But, he managed to control himself enough to make it out the door, his hand snaking around your waist as you headed down to the beach.

The closest beach to you, as it turned out, was only a short walk down the road. And, it was a pretty quiet one. Steve explained on the way how it was a lesser-known alcove, only really used by locals and not well-known amongst the tourists. Sure enough, the white sandy beach was relatively sheltered on all sides by the rocky cliffs, making you feel both so in-the-open and hidden.

You sighed as you settled onto the beach towel, soaking in the sun as Steve set up an umbrella, eventually finding his place beside you. The afternoon was relaxed and quiet, Steve allowing you space to read your book and sunbathe. You tried to think about the last time you let yourself relax like this - it was possible that you never had.

Eventually, the water just looked too inviting, the sun becoming just a bit too oppressively hot, and you found yourself wandering down to the shoreline. You let the water lap over your feet, the waves warmer than you expected. It was only after you had waded out up to your waist that you heard the water breaking behind you, a telltale sign that Steve was joining. Before you could turn to him, his arms were wrapped around your waist, making you jump and squeal.

“Steve!”

He spun you around in the water, making a big splash in your wake.

“Hey, beautiful,” he whispered. It was almost too affectionate, the way he said it, but you decided not to question it.

You just smiled, leaning in until his nose was brushing yours.

“Thank you, for this,” you murmured. “I know I’ve been saying it, but - I don’t think I’ve ever taken time to do anything like this, well… ever.”

His face softened a bit, and he brought his hand up to cup the side of your face.

“You’re welcome. Also, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

A devilish grin, then, “For this.”

Then, he was pulling you into his arms and under the water with him, causing you to yelp with surprise as you became submerged. When you broke the surface, he was laughing like a little kid, earning a playful smack in the arm from you, followed by an indignant splash. And, for even just a few moments, it was easy to forget about everything, other than how much fun you were having.

Yes - this trip was exactly what you needed.

********

The next morning, you woke up slowly, blinking in the bright sunlight filtering into the bedroom. It took you a moment to remember where you were - then, the sandy-colored walls, the soft linen, and the lingering smell of salt water and sunscreen reminded you.

You rolled over in bed, reaching across to find it disappointingly empty. You groaned, sitting up and rubbing the bleariness from your eyes. After scrounging around under the sheets, you eventually unearthed a t-shirt, the one you had pulled off of Steve last night. Shrugging it on, you padded through the house towards the back balcony, where the sounds of the outdoors filtered through the open door. Surely enough, there he was, his back to you as he set plates on the table. You wish you had a camera to capture it - the vision of Steve, shirtless with his disheveled morning hair, the sea sparkling behind him in the early sunlight. But, before you could appreciate it anymore, he seemingly sensed your presence and turned.

“Look who's finally risen!” he declared. “I was worried I’d have to wake you up before the food got cold!”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Got cold?”

“Yeah - I made a veggie frittata, I hope that’s alright. I got some pastries too, and fruit. The coffee’s almost done.”

“I - you cook?”

He stopped, crossing his arms.

“What, did you think I couldn’t?”

You shrugged, throwing up your hands in defense.

“No! I just - I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you cook before.”

You walked towards the table, accepting the chair he pulled out for you as you sank down and settled.

“When did you get all this stuff?” you asked, taking in the spread before you somewhat in awe.

“Oh, um, this morning - I went for a run, and stopped at the market on my way back. Town’s not far.”

You couldn’t even fight how impressed you were, shaking your head in disbelief.

“How long have you been up?”

“A few hours,” he said, shrugging. He cut into the frittata and started loading it onto one of the porcelain plates, passing it to you before sitting down. “I’m usually up pretty early, you know that. I wanted you to sleep in though, glad to know I didn’t wake you.”

“Right. Well, thanks.”

It almost felt like too much, him going to all these lengths for you. Yes, buying you a meal was one thing - he did it all the time. But cooking for you, and with such care… it felt like a different thing entirely. But, you accepted it gratefully, not even realizing just how hungry you were until you started digging in.

You could get used to mornings like this - breakfast on the beach view balcony, fresh coffee and breakfast, Steve’s knee brushing yours under the table. After a while, Steve leaned back and smiled, taking a sip out of his cup of coffee.

“So - are you feeling up for an adventure?” he asked, sounding slightly mischievous.

You raised an eyebrow, taking a bite out of a strawberry.

“What kind of adventure?”

“The kind you need a bathing suit for,” he said. “Preferably a bikini, but that’s really just for my benefit.”

You laughed. “Is that so?”

That was how you found yourself pulling on a bathing suit, pulled out of your bag along with a cover up and sun hat. Steve was already waiting for you when you emerged, a cooler bag slung over his shoulder, holding your beach bag out to you. You were finally starting to learn to relax, not even asking what he was planning - if it kept going the way this trip already had been, you knew he had a good surprise in store.

He took your arm in his, leading you out of the villa and to the car, tearing down the small dirt road until it became a larger, cobblestone one, descending down the hills into the main little town. The day was warm and bright, prompting Steve to lower the roof of the convertible. You let your eyes close, leaning back against the seat to feel the sun and breeze. You barely even noticed when Steve’s hand came to rest on your thigh.

You didn’t really open your eyes until the car slowed to a stop, realizing where you were. It was the pier, with boats of all different sizes and grandeur bobbing in the water. There was a bit of a hustle and bustle, with people loading and unloading, motors starting, dockhands untying boats and sending people off. You looked over at Steve quizzically, only to be met with a smile.

“You ready?”

“Are we -”

“Taking a boat out? Yes, yes we are,” he said, killing the ignition and hopping out of the car. He came around the other side to open the door and let you out before you had a chance to do it yourself. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes as he took your hand, deciding to indulge him.

He led you to the dock, and you couldn’t help but start eyeing the prospective boats waiting for you. Eventually, you stopped at a small motorboat, docked and ready to go.

“We - you’re driving?”

Steve nodded, throwing the bags onto the boat and hopping on.

“Yes - I’ve got a boating license.”

“Since when?”

“Since my dad made me get one when I was 16.”

Somehow, Steve Harrington remained an enigma - what else didn’t you know about him?

He turned, offering his hand up to you to help you on board.

“Do you trust me?”

You nodded, not even hesitating.

“Yes.”

“Good - then come on, I promise it’ll be fun.”

It was so easy to believe Steve, to trust him - when did that happen?

After passing some cash to the dockhand, the boat was untied and sent out, Steve manning the wheel as he headed out into the harbor. You leaned back in the leather seat behind him, holding onto your hat as the boat picked up speed. The waters gradually became less busy, the expanse of blue before you growing greater as you headed out to the sea.

“Where are we going?” you finally asked, practically yelling over the sound of the engine.

“A surprise,” he said.

“Of course.”

This earned a chuckle from him, followed by a gesture towards the cooler pack.

“By the way - I packed some drinks, if you want them. And food, too, but that’s for later.”

You grinned, unzipping it and pulling out a bottle of rose, still cold and wet with condensation. You poured it into a plastic cup that you found in the bag, smiling endearingly at the thought of Steve doing all of this - shopping, planning, packing, doing everything with you in mind. You sighed, sipping your wine as the boat cut through the waves, the breeze blowing through your hair. Finally, you reached what you presumed was your destination: a smaller island came into view, surrounded by big rocky outcroppings sticking out of the water. You couldn’t even see any other boats docked around it.

“Where are we?” you asked, standing as the boat slowed to a stop. Steve threw the anchor down, with more ease than you expected.

“It’s called Sand City,” he said, propping a leg up on the boat’s edge as he tied the knot. “Well, that’s what locals call it - I’m not sure what it’s actually called. But, barely anyone knows about it - if I had to guess, we’re probably the only ones here.”

You glanced over at the rocky beach - from what you could see, there wasn’t another soul.

“Knowing you, you probably rented out the place,” you joked.

Steve chuckled. “I mean, if I could, I definitely would’ve.”

You laughed, but when he didn’t, you stopped.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Completely.”

You came up next to him, glancing over the side of the boat - the water was crystal clear, the current gentle and calm.

“So, how do we get out there?” you asked.

Steve grinned, pulling his shirt up over his head in one movement.

“We swim.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you dove in after him, the water a relaxing relief from the sun. The pair of you made your way to the shore rather quickly, pulling yourselves out of the water and onto the beach. Here, there wasn;t much of the soft white sand that you had seen on the main island. Instead, the coast was rocky, Steve taking your hand as he helped you weave through to spare your bare feet from the brunt of it.

“You know, for a place called ‘Sand City’ - there’s not a lot of sand,” you observed, following Steve up the beach.

“There’s a reason for that,” Steve said, leading you further up the beach. “See, like a hundred years ago, this place was used for sand mining - and it was a major port. But, they drained the resources, and couldn’t develop anything. See?”

He gestured further down the shoreline. Sure enough, in the distance there were larger wooden posts sticking out of the water, worn and dull with time.

“Those used to be the dock, before it collapsed. But, since there’s a steep dropoff after the sandbar, people like to dock their boats and make day trips out here. Like us, for example,” Steve explained.

“How do you know all this?” you asked, tone laced with surprise.

“I did some research,” he said, shrugging.

“Why?”

“Honestly? I wanted to impress you,” he admitted somewhat sheepishly.

You laughed, louder than you meant to.

“What?” he asked indignantly, stopping in his tracks.

“Nothing! It’s just kind of cute that you’re trying to impress me, I guess.”

“Shut up,” he muttered.

You stayed a few steps behind him, smiling to yourself. This was maybe the most relaxed you had ever seen Steve - he seemed younger, almost boyish. You wondered if this is what he was like, years before you met him. When he was your age, was he less hardened? Did he have less walls around him? You had to assume he did.

At one point, he leaned down to pick up a pebble, skipping it across the water.

“Nice, that skipped like, five times,” you remarked.

“You try,” he said, extending a flat pebble to you.

“I’m not any good at this,” you confessed.

“I’ll help you, here -”

He placed the stone gently in your palm, his hand engulfing yours.

“Just follow through like this, and kind of flick your wrist.”

You did your best to ignore how your skin tingled at his touch, following through on his guidance a few times before finally letting go. The stone skimmed the water’s surface, skipping once, before plopping in.

You threw your hands up in the air in celebration.

“Okay, I know that wasn’t much, but - better than anything I’ve done before!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around Steve’s neck.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, and you pulled away quickly. Before he could say anything, you gestured for him to keep leading the way.

******

The rest of the afternoon was a bit of a blur. Steve led you up the island to a thatch of trees, where you came across the old ruins of a submarine. You spent a while investigating it, grabbing a fresh peach hanging off of the trees. You and Steve shared it, eventually returning to the water and swimming out to one of the rocks past the sandbar. You let yourself lay out and sunbathe, Steve by your side. Eventually, though, the one peach you had split didn’t seem to tide you over, your stomach grumbling. You groaned.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got a picnic on the boat,” Steve assured. “Want to head back?”

You agreed, welcoming the cool water as you dove back in, clambering back up onto the motorboat. Steve produced a true spread from the cooler, of crackers, cheeses, and grapes, topped off with a bottle of white wine to split. It was so idyllic, floating in the middle of the ocean, with the fresh charcuterie that Steve had so carefully packed for you. After you were full and satiated, you couldn’t help it - you had to start touching Steve. You found it hard to keep your hands off of him, tracing his constellation of moles on his back beneath the sun, both of you laying across a towel. You began to trace letters and words, asking him to guess - Steve’s name, your own, smiley faces and stars, anything you could think of. Steve, as it turned out, was shit when it came to guessing.

You found yourself feeling just a bit mischievous, deciding to press your lips between his shoulder blades instead.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, voice a bit rougher than it had been.

“What’s the chance of another boat passing us here?” you asked.

“Uh - minimal. Really slim, we’re pretty isolated,” he answered quickly.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I wanna ride you, if you’ll let me.”

And he did, scrambling onto his back, gripping onto your hips as you straddled him. Your bathing suits were shed in a matter of moments, and you wasted no time in sinking onto him. The boat rocked precariously, but it was part of the thrill - Steve came undone in a matter of minutes, cumming deep inside of you. You followed shortly after, convulsing around him with your head thrown back, underneath the bright afternoon sun.

*******

The next few days passed in a blissful blur - Steve took you all around the island. One day, he rented a Vespa, having you wrap your arms around his waist and hold on tightly as he drove you around to the other side, where a music and art festival was happening. He followed you around, dancing with you and buying you whatever you wanted from the vendors, insisting that you picked out whatever you wanted. Used books, fresh pastries, a sunhat, handmade mosaics, seashell earrings - whatever caught your interest.

One of the items you picked up was a pack of disposable waterproof cameras, which you immediately made quick use of. You began snapping photos of the town, the ocean views, and most of all, Steve. You caught candids of Steve walking down the street, running his hands through his hair, or his side profile, when he wasn’t paying attention. You got him to pose on occasion too, insisting on taking pictures at each new site you visited. Soon, Steve took one of the cameras, playing your own game and sneaking photos of you throughout the trip.

“Pose for me, baby, for the memories,” he insisted, pulling back to capture you every chance he got.

You and Steve made use of the villa, too. On the third day, you woke up to the sound of rain pattering on the roof. Steve bemoaned the inclement weather, but you just snuggled further under the covers.

“What are we going to do, then?” Steve grumbled.

“We can just stay here… in bed… all day,” you replied, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm hm - actually, today’s a perfect day to practice your Italian,” you added, smirking.

“What do you -”

“Here’s the deal,” you said, sinking a bit further below the covers. “I’m going to quiz you on what I’ve taught you so far - if you get it right, I keep sucking you off. You get it wrong, though… I stop, until the next one you get right. What do you say?”

You spent that morning edging Steve, who quickly became a whimpering mess at your mercy. His language retention, it turned out, wasn’t great. Every time he screwed up an Italian word or phrase, you pulled your lips off his cock, looking up at him with disappointment.

When he finally did cum, he begged to do it all over your tits, which you obliged. That, of course, led to a bath in the clawfoot tub, where Steve happily joined you, insisting on reciprocating. The rainy day, as it turned out, wasn’t a waste at all.

Another day, he took you out on a small ferry cruise to go snorkeling. You both dove through the shallows, exploring coral reefs and swimming through schools of fish. You were fairly certain that you’d never get over the color of the sea here - the bright, aquamarine water was stunning, and you were certain that if it was flatter underneath, you’d be able to see through the ocean for miles. You snapped a few photos underwater, hoping that they’d reflect what it looked like in-person. You doubted it, though. At one point, when you both broke the surface and climbed back onto the rowboat you had taken out, Steve was holding a lump of sand in his hand.

“What is that?”

He smiled, shaking it off under the water to reveal what looked like a gray rock. You furrowed your brow, confusion only growing and Steve produced a pocket knife. He cut into it along the edge - it was an oyster.

“In the mood for shellfish, Harrington?”

He just shook his head, prying the shell open. He squinted, then smiled.

“Well, looks like I’ve got some pretty good luck today!”

Before you could ask what he meant, he reached into the shell and pulled out -

“Is that a pearl?” you asked, eyes widening.

He nodded enthusiastically, holding it out to you.

“For you.”

You shook your head.

“No, Steve - do you know how rare that is? Just to find a natural pearl? I shouldn’t -”

“I was hoping to find one, just for you,” he assured. “Seriously - I want you to have it.”

You took it hesitantly, turning the small white stone in your hand. It was so small, perfectly round, with a few grains of sand still clinging to it. You shook your head incredulously.

“I - thank you,” you whispered. You fished your wallet out of your beach bag, tucking the pearl safely inside.

******

The evenings were filled with sunsets and wine, Steve insisting on bringing you to the best restaurants that the island had to offer. When you returned to the villa, you would take a dip in the pool - bathing suits optional. That’s why, by the time your actual birthday came around, it wasn’t a surprise that you were physically exhausted.

The morning of your birthday came on a Saturday, the last full day of your trip. You had attempted to stay up until midnight on Friday to properly ring it in, but you were so exhausted from the sun and copious amounts of wine consumed during the day that you were asleep before 11.

That night, you dreamed. Often, your dreams weren’t very vivid. If you remembered them at all when you woke up, there wasn’t really anything concrete. And, you supposed, this wasn’t really any different. You felt warm, only really seeing flashes of golden light, dancing behind your eyelids like stars. Your skin tingled, and you were just relaxed. You sighed in contentment, suddenly feeling your brow furrow at the realization that you could feel the mattress you were lying on, the soft sheets fisted in your fingers.

You weren’t sleeping anymore, not completely. You weren’t exactly sure when you had stopped, crossing the line between dreaming and consciousness. But suddenly, you were acutely aware of the air on your skin, the quickening of your breath, and, most notably, the feeling of warm lips pressed to your skin.

“Mm - Steve?” you grumbled, voice still groggy from sleep.

“G’morning, birthday girl,” he murmured from below the sheets, pressing a kiss to your navel.

“What’re you -”

“I wanted to make today extra special,” he whispered. “Starting right now.”

He continued to pepper kisses across your abdomen, traveling further down, down, down -

“Fuck,” you gasped as his breath ghosted over your bare cunt. “Steve -”

“Shhh, baby,” he whispered. “Today’s all about you - just relax, okay?”

Anything else that you wanted to say died on your tongue, your breath hitching as soon as his mouth made contact with your core. He licked a stripe up your slit, his tongue settling to swirl around your clit.

“Steve! Oh, shit - just like that. Oh my god -”

You felt your back arch as your hips bucked up to meet his mouth. His fingers were digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, spread wide for him as he devoured you.

Soon, one of his hands wandered from your thigh, gathering your slick as he circled your entrance.

You moaned, eyes squeezed shut as you threw your head back.

“Please, Steve,” you whined. He paused for a moment.

“Please what?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. He started sucking, and you already shivered at the thought of him leaving a mark there, a reminder for later.

“Please - your fingers,” you begged.

“What about them?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Inside me - please - fuck me with your fingers,” you exclaimed.

“If you insist, darling.”

That was your only warning. He plunged two fingers into your sopping entrance, returning his tongue to your clit. You practically screamed, writhing in the sheets as he loved on you in the best way he knew how.

He kissed and licked at your cunt like he was worshiping it. He grinned against your skin at the sound of your whines when he added a third finger, pumping in and out of you at an unrelenting pace.

You found your own hands wandering, looking to grab onto something, anything. Between his ministrations, you heard Steve murmur, “Your tits, baby.”

“What?”

“Touch your tits, sweetheart, you know you want to.”

You didn’t even question it, obeying as your hands found their way to your breasts. You cupped and palmed them, moaning at the added stimulation as Steve continued to eat you out.

“I’m close,” you breathed, feeling your face flush, your heart thudding in your chest. There was pressure building in your core, ready to snap at any moment. You continued feeling your tits, toying with your nipples and squeezing at the soft flesh.

Your orgasm felt like a dam breaking. You screamed Steve’s name as the pleasure washed over you, intense and white-hot like a tsunami. He worked you through your high, continuing to lap and lick at you, gradually slowing down as your whole body shook. By the time he removed his fingers from you, you were a mess. You felt boneless, certain you’d sink all the way through the mattress if you weren’t careful.

Your breathing was deep and labored, not even capable of forming a coherent thought as Steve pressed soft kisses to your inner thigh. Just as he had started, he kissed his way back up your body - your stomach, your breasts, sternum, collarbone, neck - and, finally, your lips. You still faintly tasted yourself on him, and sighed into his mouth.

After several moments, you finally spoke.

“Jesus Christ, Steve.”

“So, that was good?” he asked.

You turned your cheek down to your pillow, bringing you face-to-face with the man lying next to you.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I - I think that was the hardest I’ve ever cum in my life,” you admitted.

Steve practically puffed up with pride, fighting a smile.

“Is that so?”

You reached across the bed, running your fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, really. Best birthday ever.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s barely started yet!”

“Still - that would’ve made it just perfect, no need to do anything else.”

He laughed, throwing his head back against the pillow.

“Well, that’s definitely not all I have planned. We’ve got a whole day ahead of us.”

You sighed, shaking your head.

“Of course we do. Well, if that’s the case, I’m going to take a shower.”

You rolled out of bed and padded towards the bathroom, not even bothering with the fact that you were stark nude. You felt Steve’s eyes practically burning a hole through you, prompting you to cast a glance over your shoulder.

“I might need help, you know,” you said suggestively.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

********

Most of the day passed without a hitch. In fact, you would call it perfect. Almost, at least. You had breakfast on the balcony, the morning relatively slow and relaxed. Then, Steve took you to the sea, renting another boat until you reached what you learned to be Aragonese Castle. The ruins sat on a volcanic rock formation, accessible via a footbridge going across the water. On the island, you explored the castle, marveling at the sight from the top. You stood atop the structure, something older than you could even comprehend, staring out across the sparkling sea. Steve took your camera, snapping a few photos of you before you noticed.

“Come on, birthday girl, pose for me,” he begged with his go-to line, smiling as you grinned and threw your hands up in the air for the camera.

After, you took the boat around the coast to another smaller island, making your way up to the little village there. Steve made good on his word, and as you wandered through the market, did his best to name all the items in Italian. Every time he got something right, you kissed him. For everything he got wrong, he had to buy you something from that vendor. In the end, it was working out much better for you, your bag filling more and more as you walked through.

You both walked along the beach, finding yourselves carrying your shoes as you let the water wash over your feet on the shoreline. The afternoon waned to the early evening, the sun moving from beating on your backs to golden, slowly sinking towards the horizon. You had returned to the main island, Steve insisting on returning home briefly to change out of beach clothes. You followed his lead, trusting whatever he had planned. As you were throwing on some makeup, you barely noticed him come into the bathroom behind you, too focused on yourself in the mirror.

“So,” he started, leaning against the doorframe. “I know we haven’t exactly had an occasion for something like this yet, but I had this made for you - I was kind of hoping you’d wear it tonight.”

He held up a clothing hanger, shrouded in a garment bag. You smiled at him through the mirror, bounding over excitedly to unzip and look at what was inside.

“I - wow.”

“Put it on for me?” he asked. “It’s part of your birthday present.”

You obliged, kicking him out of the room, insisting that you wanted him to be surprised. You slipped on the dress easily, your breath catching in your throat as soon as you saw yourself in the mirror.

It was a vibrant, deep red, made of some kind of shimmering silk. Somehow, it both flowed over you and hugged you in all the right places - more than anything else Steve had gotten made for you, this had to have been done with you in mind. Somehow, you were certain it was the best you had ever looked. Valentina had outdone herself.

You opened the door slowly, mainly for dramatic effect. Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a suit jacket over his button-down, the first few buttons notably undone. At the sight of you, he sat up quickly. His eyes widened, looking you up and down as he scrambled to his feet.

“Well, what do you think?” you asked.

It took Steve a moment to say anything, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he searched for words. Then, softly:

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You felt your face heat, the blood rushing to your head creating a dull roar in your ears.

“You’re a liar,” you insisted.

“With you? Never.”

“Well, just one thing,” you said, coming closer to him before turning around. “I need help zipping it up.”

You felt Steve’s hands at the small of your back, pulling the zipper up slowly. His fingers brushed your exposed skin on the way up. And, when he finally reached the top, he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“I have something else for you,” he whispered in your ear. Before you could ask, you felt something cold around your neck, a weight resting against your sternum. Your hand came up to touch it - a necklace. A ruby pendant to match the dress, the chain lined delicately with diamonds.

“Steve-” you said, turning to face him.

“Don’t say anything,” he said, beating you to what you were about to say.

“But - you’ve already put together this whole trip… I can’t -”

“You only turn 21 once,” he said. “It’s a big deal, you know.”

“Maybe in the States - not really so much here -”

“I guess that’s why I wanted to make it special, just for you,” he whispered. “Will you let me?”

His eyes were so soft, begging you to just say yes, and your chest suddenly felt warm.

“Thank you,” you finally said. “Really.”

Then, he was kissing you. It wasn’t hungry, or heated, or demanding. It was soft and slow. When he pulled away, hand cupping your jaw, it felt like you should say something else - but what? Before you could decide what it should be, he was holding out an arm to you. You hooked yours through it, letting him lead the way.

Sunset hadn’t happened yet, but it was probably soon - the sky was bathed in the deep golden of the sun, the day aging and giving way to the evening soon enough. You took the Ferrari, the top down as Steve drove down the hill and into town.

The place Steve had reserved for dinner was tucked into the mountain, made of old stone and terraced into the Earth. You were on the rooftop, your table set out so that you had a view of the city below, and the sea beyond. The sky was turning shades of orange and pink, promising a stunning sunset.

“Steve,” you started once you were settled into your chair, “this place - it’s stunning.”

You couldn’t even hide your awe, realizing for maybe the hundredth time that week just how lucky you were.

“Just wait until sunset,” he said. “This is the most in-demand restaurant on the island.”

“And you got a reservation?” you asked, perusing the wine menu.

“I pulled some strings.”

“Naturally.”

You brought your feet to rest on top of his under the table.

After ordering a bottle of wine, Steve reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his tobacco and rolling papers.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he said.

“As long as you share,” you replied, grinning as he started rolling a second cigarette.

As you lit yours up and took a deep inhale, you allowed a moment to fully take in the sight of Steve.

The last week had changed him. You thought about him, and how he had said that this was the first time he had taken a vacation from work. His skin was tanned, his hair a bit lighter from the time in the sun. It had grown a bit longer, too, since you’d first met him.

As he breathed out smoke, donning sunglasses and bathed in the golden light of dusk, you felt your chest ache. For better or for worse, Steve Harrington has changed your life.

After enjoying a decadent meal of seafood, flatbreads, and pasta, all shared with Steve, it was properly dark out. The only light came from the strong lights hanging around the patio, and the candlelight on the table. You were a bit tipsy from the shared bottle of wine, feeling warm and hazy. It was during dessert, as you were sipping a cappuccino and tasting your tiramisu, that Steve cleared his throat.

“So, I have one more present for you,” he announced, straightening up in his chair.

“Steve - no.”

“But -”

“You’ve already gotten me the dress, the necklace, this entire trip. And, well… everything else.”

The arrangement, which you two barely spoke of anymore. At least, not directly. He just sighed, pulling an envelope out of his pocket and sliding it across the table to you.

“It’s the last thing, I promise - please?”

You stared at him for a moment before finally conceding. Grabbing the envelope, you tore it open, pulling out the piece of paper inside. You stared at it for a moment, squinting in the dim candlelight. It was a map - a map of the night sky. You vaguely recognized it, thanks to the astronomy class you had to take during your first year of school.

“It’s - the sky?”

“Well, it’s a certificate, for proof.”

“Proof of what?”

He pointed to the text at the top. You read it once. Twice. Five times. You felt your eyes widen, your mouth hanging open.

“Did you - did you name a star after me?”

Steve nodded slowly, assessing your reaction.

“Yes. Well, specifically - it’s kind of stupid, but… it’s a star that’s over Rome in late May, right around when we met. I don’t know, I just thought - it was just an idea.”

When your eyes met his again, he was asking a silent question - expectant, nervous, his gaze asking, do you like it?

It was then that it hit you. It was like a train, knocking the breath out of you. And, without thinking, you said it:

“I’m in love with you.”

As soon as it tumbled out, you swore your heart stopped. Everything was spinning, and you were certain you were going to be sick. But, after an agonizing moment, Steve just raised an eyebrow.

“So, am I supposed to know what that one means?”

“I - what?”

“Are you quizzing me again?”

A wave of relief washed over you - you had said it in Italian. What Steve had heard was sono innamorato di te. You let out a deep breath, laughing nervously.

“Oh - yes. Yeah!”

“Okay - what does it mean?”

“Just, um - it means I love it. The gift, I mean. It… it was really thoughtful.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, visibly relaxing in his chair.

“Oh, good. I’m glad. I wasn’t sure what you’d think, to be honest.”

You stared down at the paper, avoiding his eyes. You did your best to just focus on the page, hoping he couldn’t tell that your hands were shaking.

“No - it’s great. Thank you, really.”

You forced a smile, meeting his eyes again. Then, you stood up suddenly, your chair sliding out behind you. Concern flickered across his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Me? Yeah, I just - I need to use the ladies’ room,” you mumbled. You took a step towards him, placing a quick kiss on his cheek before heading downstairs to the lower part of the restaurant.

As soon as you were locked in the bathroom, you braced yourself on the sink. You did your best to steady your breathing, gripping to porcelain for dear life. That was a close call - too close. You immediately started chastising yourself - you were an idiot, a fool. Your one job was to not fall for him. It was the most important part of the agreement. Wasn’t the whole point of this to avoid complications, and heartbreak?

You took a deep breath, assessing the facts:

You loved Steve Harrington.

You weren’t supposed to love Steve Harrington.

Now, every time you were with him, you’d be lying to his face

In a month, he’d be out of your life.

You felt nauseous, the room starting to spin. This couldn’t be happening. But, it was. You stared at yourself in the mirror - your eyes were glassy, threatening to break into full-on tears at any moment. No, you couldn’t do that - you weren’t going to ruin this perfect day, perfect week. This was so you, to ruin everything for yourself at the last minute. You gathered yourself, fighting the urge to cry. You were going to make this work - you had to. Steve never had to know how you were feeling, how much you had fucked this whole thing up. So, you straightened yourself up, doing your best to regain composure, and headed back upstairs to the table.

Steve visibly relaxed when he saw you approaching.

“Everything okay?” he asked as you slid into your chair.

“Oh - yeah. All good, it’s just - I’m stuffed!” you declared, laughing half-heartedly. “Seriously, this was delicious, but - I can’t eat or drink anything else.”

Steve nodded. “Oh, no problem - I can get the check.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You had to seem normal - to make yourself feel normal. Nothing had to change between you two, as far as you were concerned.

So, you let Steve take you home, your hand on his leg making him drive the car borderline recklessly. You both stumbled through the door of the villa, shedding one another of your clothes like your lives depended on it.

Maybe you were reading too much into it, or maybe something truly had shifted. More likely, the reality was somewhere in the middle. But, the sex wasn’t desperate, or urgent. You took your time with one another, exploring each other’s bodies like it was the last time you’d ever do so. Steve held you close, kissing every inch of you, his lips whispering prayers and sweet nothings into your skin.

You gave it all back to him, thanking him for everything he’s done for you with filthy words whispered in his ear, telling him how good he was making you feel.

He sucked bruises into your skin, and you left scratches down his back. When you came, it was together, the pleasure peaking and flowing through both of you in unison. After, he laid on top of you, your fingers running gently through his hair as you stared at the ceiling. You just let yourself bathe in the afterglow, hanging on to Steve like he’d disappear if you didn’t.

It was later, after your head had settled onto his chest with his arms wrapped around you, that he finally spoke.

“So - did you have a good birthday?”

“Mm,” you hummed blissfully. His heartbeat thudded steadily against your ear, grounding you.

“Best birthday I ever had,” you added.

“Really?”

“Yes,” you affirmed. “You - you made me feel special. I don’t think anyone’s bothered to do that before, not like this.”

A pause.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Steve said solemnly. “You deserve better.”

You shook your head, burying your face further into his chest.

“You’ve made up for that,” you assured him. “Trust me.”

His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“Good,” he said. “I mean, we’re doing round two next weekend, with Robin’s not-surprise party.”

You groaned.

“I forgot about that.”

“It’s only because she loves you, you know.”

You swore your heart skipped a beat at the word. You immediately felt stupid for even letting that happen, as if it was voluntary.

“Yeah, she does,” you conceded.

“I don’t want this trip to end,” Steve admitted. His voice was lower, words slurring a bit. You realized that his breathing had slowed down considerably - he was drifting.

“Me neither,” you admitted. “Let’s just stay forever.”

It sounded like a joke, earning a low chuckle from him. It didn’t feel like one, though.

“Whatever you want,” he murmured.

After a few moments, Steve went completely silent. His heartbeat was slower, and you sighed, rolling over to stare at the ceiling.

Without him to distract you, your mind started racing. The anxiety was gone - no, the feeling now was pure and utter dread. But, the most horrible part was when you glanced over at the man beside you - all you felt was butterflies, churning in your stomach like some sweet sickness.

You stared at Steve for a while - the rise and fall of his chest, his disheveled hair, the way the moonlight cast over his form, highlighting his silhouette.

“Hey, Steve? You awake?” you whispered through the darkness. No response.

You brought yourself up onto your elbow, leaning in just a bit closer. You’d never be able to tell him to his face, but this was the closest you’d get - maybe you just needed to get it out of your system. At least, that was what you told yourself.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered. No response.

You promptly turned over under the covers, burying your face in the pillow. And, finally, the tears came. Fast and hot, they leaked onto the pillow, marking it like acid as you did your best to sob silently.

You were fucked. Completely and utterly ruined. For the first time in ages, you cried yourself to sleep. Before you finally drifted off, one question was on your mind:

What were you going to do when Steve left for good?

author's note: hi everyone! Thanks for your patience for this update! Work has been kicking my ass, and it's been harder to make time to write. Before anyone says anything, no, I don't speak Italian, nor have I been to Italy. I did my best, but some details were fabricated for the story, so if it's not accurate - oh well! Thanks to everyone for all the kind messages, and to my bestie Em for the endless inspiration. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated!

1K notes · View notes

katyswrites · 1 year

Text

don't call me 'baby'

PART 7 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, phone sex, daddy kink, ddlg dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, webcam sex, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 6.5k

PART 7 | is it cool that I said all that?

Soon enough, June gave way to July, the mid-summer heat setting in across the city like a fog. The city became busier, too, thanks to the peak tourism season and school being closed for the summer. For once, you barely noticed - you didn’t have to worry about the influx of customers, the more crowded buses and metro cars with packed, sweaty bodies that you had come to dread. Now, you were happy to shell out the money for a taxi, or to call Steve’s car service, even when he wasn’t with you. You had felt strange about it at first, but he insisted upon it. And, of course, you had started spending most nights with Steve - still getting picked up from your apartment, going out to fancy dinners and bars, and then going home with him. You had started spending the night more often, too.

On mornings that Steve had work, he’d leave quietly, rarely even causing you to stir. He’d usually send a text, or on occasion leaving a note; something along the lines of stay as long as you’d like, I’ll see you soon. On occasion, he’d stay at your place, too. You were embarrassed by your tiny, cluttered apartment, thinking of his pristine penthouse. But, he never said anything. Sometimes, you’d find yourself stumbling up the stairs and into your bed, challenging yourselves to be quiet with the knowledge of Robin asleep on the other side of the wall.

It was a nice routine - in the time you had been living in Rome, you had been spending most of your summers working as many hours as possible to save for the upcoming semester of university, spreading your money as thinly as possible during the school year when you had to inevitably cut back on hours. But now, it was different - you were letting yourself actually enjoy the city. You would take yourself out for breakfast, sipping coffee leisurely in a cafe while the city woke up. You would go for walks, stopping in shops along the way. Normally, you’d take one look at the prices of anything and walk out empty-handed. But now, you decided to treat yourself. If you saw something you liked - clothes, books, trinkets, jewelry, fresh food from the market - you let yourself buy it, not feeling guilt anymore when you brandished Steve’s credit card. Even in casual clothes, you found yourself dressing nicer in your daily life, the way you had always wanted, but just couldn’t afford to. You treated yourself to the hair salon, manicure appointments, and even splurged on the extra spa options every now and then. It was all new, still.

“You going somewhere?” Robin had asked one morning over her cereal, eyeing you as you were pouring yourself coffee, already fully dressed for the day.

“Just the market - do you need anything?”

“Uh, no. It’s just - you look nice. That’s all,” she remarked, smiling a bit.

“Oh - uh, thanks.”

You had started to notice it, too - your face had grown a little fuller, your skin brighter, the dark circles under your eyes a thing of the past. At one point, when you walked past a mirror, you stopped in your tracks - you were glowing. You never knew what people had meant when they said that, before - but now you understood.

Then, of course, there was Steve. You were seeing him even more frequently, five or six nights a week. Sometimes, he’d even meet you for lunch, on the rare occasion that he actually took his lunch break. It was over one of these lunch dates that he broke the news - you were sitting at a cafe close to the city center, only a few blocks from his office. You sipped your coffee, eyeing the menu as he cleared his throat.

“So, um - I have to go away this week. Business trip,” he said.

You looked up at him, a wave of disappointment washing over you. You tried to shake it - it was stupid, why did it matter? You just did your best to keep your face neutral.

“Oh, really?” you asked.

He nodded, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair.

“I only found out this morning - Barcelona, just for a bit. Five days, I think. Six, if you include travel, I guess.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together.

“Yeah, I mean - do what you’ve got to do. At least it’s not too far, right?”

“Not at all - five, six hour flight, I think.”

“Well - that should be fun. I went to Barcelona over winter break with some friends my second year - I mean, we stayed in a hostel and basically just fucked around in the city, but it was nice.”

Steve chuckled, picking up his coffee cup.

“Yeah, well, I’ll probably spend most of it holed up in a conference room or hotel. Besides, I don’t speak a lick of Spanish.”

You shrugged. “To be fair, you barely speak Italian and have been living here for, what, six months?”

“Yeah, okay, fair enough,” Steve said, holding his hands up in surrender as he rolled his eyes. “To be fair, a lot of people speak English. Still, pretty sad to live in Italy for the better part of the year and not know any of the language, right?”

He was smiling, shaking his head incredulously, but avoiding your gaze. It probably meant nothing, just him making a joke, but you couldn’t help but read a bit into it. There was something in his tone, something wistful, a bit self-deprecating.

“I could teach you,” you said softly.

“Yeah?” he asks, looking up at you.

“I mean, I don’t think you’d be fluent, I’m not a teacher or anything, but… some words, phrases, basics, things like that. If you want.”

He smiled, a bit more softly this time.

“Yeah - that’d be nice.”

You both just stared at each other, exchanging smiles, the moment lingering. It was interrupted when your waitress returned, asking for your order. You glanced over at Steve.

“Okay - I guess the lesson one will be ordering in a restaurant, yeah?”

******

You stayed over at Steve’s the night before he left. Despite doing his best to move quietly around the room, you found yourself waking up to the sound of him zipping his suitcase, his silhouette barely visible in the dim, early-morning light.

“Mm,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes.

He froze, turning to you.

“Hey,” he whispered, “Sorry, baby - go back to sleep.”

“Are y’leaving?” you asked groggily.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m afraid I have to. But, I’ll be back on Saturday, yeah?”

“Hm, yeah,” you said, turning over under the sheets. You let your breathing slow, shutting your eyes as you heard Steve move about the room, grabbing some last-minute things. He whispered your name through the darkness, so softly that even awake, you barely heard it. But, sleep was pulling you back into its clutches, and you didn’t say anything, too disoriented to reply. In hindsight, he probably thought that you had fallen completely back to sleep. You heard him take a few steps until he was right next to you, crouching down to your level. He reached out slowly, placing his hand on the side of your head, gently rubbing his thumb along your temple.

“You know - I’m really gonna miss you,” he whispered. “I know I probably shouldn’t, but -”

He stopped, taking a deep breath. Then, you felt the warmth of his lips pressing to your temple, then he pulled away, footsteps carrying him towards the doorway.

“Did you say something?” you grumbled into the pillow.

His footsteps stopped. Then, from the doorway, you heard, “Oh, uh, no - just, go to sleep. You can let yourself out - I’ll see you Saturday.”

Then he was gone.

*****

You went almost 12 hours before you texted Steve. You weren’t entirely sure what the protocol with this was - should you reach out to him? Should you ask how his flight was, or how things were going? It felt strange, though, doing something a girlfriend would do. But, it felt just as strange to not talk to him.

You stared at your phone for a few moments, tapping your fingers nervously on the kitchen table. You stared at your text conversation, typing and erasing a few times. This was stupid - you should be able to just text him -

hey

It sent before you could think about it anymore. You groaned, letting your head fall forward on the table.

“What did you do now?” Robin’s voice asked from the kitchen doorway.

“Why do you assume I did something?”

“Well, did you?”

You rolled your head to the side to look up at her, sighing.

“I’m the lamest mistress in the world.”

Robin visibly gagged.

“Okay, first of all - never say ‘mistress’ again. Also, that’s not technically what you are -”

“Robs, I love you, but I don’t need -”

“What’s going on?” she asked, more sincere now. She slid into the chair across from you, the old rickety wood creaking under her.

You just flashed your phone at her, defeated. She studied it for a moment before leaning back in her chair, arms crossed.

“Yep. You’re lame.”

You groaned again, slamming your forehead on the table again.

“What do I do?”

“Well, why the fuck are you texting him, anyways?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just - isn’t he away? For like, a week?”

You straightened up, furrowing your brow.

“Well, yeah.”

“So - why are you texting him? Like, are you trying to sext him or something?”

“What? God, no -”

“Then - huh?”

The look on Robin’s face said it all - somehow, not sexting him was infinitely weirder. Before either of you could say anything, your phone sounds off with a ding.

Steve: Hi!

You stared down at it, realizing one thing - somehow, Steve was infinitely lamer than you’d ever be. As you continued to stare at his message, plotting how to even reply, you were pulled out by Robin saying your name. You glanced up at her - had she said something?

“Hm?”

“I asked why’re you smiling? Is it him?”

You hadn’t even realized you were smiling. Suddenly feeling like a silly schoolgirl, you shook your head.

“Uh, no -”

Robin rolled her eyes.

“Oh god.”

*******

For that entire first day, you found yourself constantly texting Steve. Before, it had just been making plans, occasionally saying goodnight, letting him know you got home safe. But this was… different.

how was your flight?

It was okay, no complaints. Just tired. Did you get home okay?

yep thanks for letting me stay over

Never a problem - sorry I woke you up this morning.

…

oh you didn’t

at least, i don’t remember that

A lie.

Oh, good.

It was easy, after that. He sent you pictures of the city as he drove through, as well as his hotel room.

ooooh, fancy

It should be, considering I’ll be spending most of my time here.

you’re not exploring the city at all? let yourself have some fun, old man

Ha. Wish I could - I’ll be at a conference or in meetings most of the week. Maybe we’ll go out for some corporate dinners, though.

sorry, i was falling asleep just reading about it 😴

Oh, shut up.

you gonna make me?

He didn’t reply for a few minutes. You saw him start to type a few times, stop, and start again. Finally:

You’re going to pay for that later, you know.

i’m counting on it 😉

You didn’t hear much from Steve after that - it was silly to think you should, considering he had work to do. You went about the rest of your day pushing him from your mind - heading down to the market, cooking dinner for yourself and Robin, ending the night watching a terrible horror movie that you laughed your way through. It was pretty late, after you had been lying in your bed scrolling on your phone mindlessly for a while, that you heard from Steve again. But, he didn’t text - he was calling you.

The moment his name popped up on the screen, you sat up a bit straighter, letting your finger hover over the accept button. You weren’t sure why it was such a big deal that he was calling you - but, when you pressed accept, you felt your stomach flip, your heart rate speeding up a bit as you pressed the phone to your ear.

After a deep breath, you managed, “Hello?”

“Hey there,” Steve’s voice replied. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“Oh, no,” you assured him, shifting to fully sit up. “I was awake.”

“Okay, good - I wasn’t sure, I know it’s late.”

You pulled your phone away for a second to glance at the screen - 11:47pm.

“Yeah, I guess,” you said.

“What are you doing?” he asked, something rustling on the other end.

“Just - well, nothing, really. I was just in bed, scrolling on my phone, normal stuff.”

“Normal stuff?”

“Yeah - you know, the rest of us are on social media, letting our brains turn to mush. It’s fun, you should try it,” you said sarcastically.

That earned a chuckle from him on the other end.

“Sounds great, but I’ll probably pass.”

“What’s your phone for, then?”

“Work. And contacting people, like you. Well, not like you, but - you know what I mean. Maybe taking a picture every now and then. What else would I need it for?”

You rolled your eyes. “What are you, 80?”

“Honestly? Feels like it sometimes.”

You laughed, settling further into your pillows.

“So, how’s Barcelona?”

He sighed. “Fine. I mean, I landed, checked into my hotel, and went straight to the conference. It’s the same shit as always - presentations, schmoozing people from other companies, meeting with industry big-wigs. But, at least there was a cocktail hour at the end.”

“Wait, are you drunk-calling me?”

“What? No! I only had a couple. It’s not - it doesn’t matter.”

You rolled your eyes. You could picture him, flustered and slightly indignant at the mere accusation.

“So, where are you now?” you asked.

“Back at my hotel. I - I just wanted to talk to you. Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay - It’s nice, actually.”

A moment of silence hung between you, and you immediately kicked yourself for even saying it.

“I’m sorry, that was - I just meant that it’s - well, you’re -”

“What’re you wearing?” he asked, the words tumbling out. You paused, your ramblings dying on your tongue.

“Huh?”

“I - I asked, what are you wearing?”

You looked down, brow furrowed. “Uh, like, an old college t-shirt, some shorts, just what I usually - wait, oh my god… are you trying to, like, have phone sex right now?”

“Well - it’s not - yes. Yes, I am. That’s how it’s supposed to start, right?”

You giggled, falling back on your bed. You probably shouldn’t be laughing, but you couldn’t help it - somehow, Steve was both the most suave and awkward person you’ve ever met, often at the same time.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, voice tinged with worry.

“It’s just - you’ve never done this before?”

“Is it that obvious?” he asked sheepishly.

“Well, yeah, kinda. But, don’t worry about it, you’re doing great.”

“Do you want me to stop? We don’t have to, I just thought you wanted -”

“No! I mean, when you said you’re going to pay for that later, I thought you meant when you got home. But… if you’re offering -”

A pause. Then, “Yes,” he whispered. “I’m offering.”

You laid back a bit more, biting your lip.

“Well, let me get a bit more comfortable, Harrington.”

You reached down to the hem of your t-shirt, lifting it over your head with ease. Bare-chested, you hissed as the cool air hit your breasts, making yourself comfortable on your back again. Placing the phone on the pillow next to you, you put Steve on speaker.

“What did you just do?” Steve asked on the other end.

“Just took my shirt off, hope you don’t mind.”

You heard his breath hitch. “What kind of bra do you have on?” he asked quietly.

“Wasn’t wearing one,” you replied.

“Fuck.”

“Mm,” you said, taking one of your breasts in your hand. You began massaging it, rolling your nipple between your fingers until it hardened, before moving to the next one.

“They feel so nice in my hand,” you said breathily. “So soft, god, but not as nice as when you do it?”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, voice hoarse. “God, I miss your tits.”

“Mm,” you said, leaning into your own touch. “And they miss you. They miss your mouth on them, you know that? Now I’ve just got them all to myself -”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve murmured.

You let your hand snake down, toying with the hem of your shorts. Then, slowly, you slide them off, shimmying them down your legs and kicking them off.

“Sorry, my shorts were in the way - had to take them off,” you confessed.

“Yeah? You still got anything on, baby?”

“Just my panties - but, god, they’re soaked,” you said, fingers ghosting over the lacy fabric.

“Yeah, I bet,” Steve said, voice a bit rougher. “My voice gets you off that much, huh?”

“Mmm hm,” you said dreamily. “But, there’s a problem.”

“And what’s that?”

“If I had to guess… you’ve still got all your clothes on, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Well, I’m not touching myself until your cock is out.”

And with that, you heard rustling on the other end of the phone, and the distinct sound of a belt hitting the floor, followed by fabric. God, he wasn’t even dressed for bed, yet.

“There you go,” you whispered. “That’s more like it. Are you hard yet?”

“Yes, Jesus, I’ve been half-hard ever since you picked up the phone.”

“Good,” you said.

“But - I’m not doing another thing until you start touchin’ yourself,” he said firmly. “Can you do that for me?”

“Anything you want, daddy.”

You heard him groan, and you smirked to yourself. You let your hand wander over your clothed cunt, finally allowing your fingers to slip under the waistband. You ran your fingers up and down your slit, soaking them in the wetness there. When you finally came in contact with your clit, you gasped.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, voice gruff.

“I’m so wet,” you breathed. “My fingers are coated - I - I’m rubbing my clit. Nice and slow.”

“Good girl,” Steve whispered. “Does it feel good?”

“So good,” you admitted.

“Does it feel as good as when I do it?”

“No,” you said. “But still - god, it feels so nice.”

“Do you touch yourself a lot?” he asked. “When I’m not around? Tell me the truth, baby.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “I do.”

“Do you think of me?”

“Mm hm, I think about you when I make myself cum, all alone.”

He sighed on the other end. “Yeah, I bet you do. Because you’re fuckin’ mine.”

“I’m yours,” you echoed, picking up speed on your clit. You gasped.

“Do you ever use toys to get yourself off?” he asked.

“I - ah! Fuck - yeah, I do. I have a - shit - a vibrator.”

A pause on the other end. Then, “Take it out, baby. I want you to use it.”

Even though you knew he couldn’t see you, you nodded, reaching towards your nightstand and shuffling through the drawer until you found it, a little purple thing that had been getting less use lately than usual.

“I have it,” you said, settling back down. “But… I’ll only start using it if you start touching yourself, now.”

He groaned. “Fine, I will.”

You heard him hiss, then his breathing start to quicken.

“I’m stroking my cock, baby - god, I’m so fuckin’ hard right now - just thinking about your pretty pussy, how good it feels around me.”

You sighed, turning on the vibrator in response. Upon hearing the sound, Steve groaned. You pressed it to your clit, crying out the moment it made contact. Your back arched, your hips bucking into it.

“Oh, god - this feels so good,” you said.

“Are you using it?”

“Yeah, right on my clit - it’s so good, it’s too much -”

“Yes, play with that pussy, baby,” he said, voice strained. “I want you to fuck yourself on your fingers, can you do that for me?”

“‘Course I can,” you whispered. “After your cock, I can fit anything inside me.”

He let out a guttural groan. In response, you took your free hand that had returned to massaging your breasts and brought it downwards, coating it in your slick before letting a finger slip inside you. After a few moments, you added a second finger, stretching and pumping as you circled your clit with the vibe.

“Mm, that feels good. I miss having you inside me, though,” you confessed.

“Fuck - yeah? You do?”

“Mm. Nothing makes me feel as good as your cock, sir.”

“Damn right,” he said. “I’m just picturin’ you, all spread out, touching yourself - are you close?”

“Yes,” you admitted, hips bucking to your own touch. You added a third finger, curling them inside of yourself, finding that one spot that made you see stars.

“Are you close?” you asked.

“Yeah, fuck, I am - you should see this, sitting here, cock in my hand - wishing it was your pussy, or you mouth. It’s like your pussy was made for me, I wish I was buried inside you right now -”

You felt your abdomen tighten, your heart rate quickening. You moaned, fucking yourself on your fingers faster.

“Shit, Steve, I - I’m close, I’m gonna cum -”

“Cum, baby, please,” he begged. “And say my name when you do it - I wanna hear you -”

“Yes, daddy,” you sighed, “I’ll cum for you, I’ll scream your name as loud as you want -”

“Good girl,” he grunted, his breathing labored.

You pictured it, Steve jerking himself off to the sound of your voice, the very thought of you getting him off. You gasped and moaned as you touched yourself, your walls starting to clench around your fingers. You thought of Steve - his hands on you, his voice in your ears, his cock inside you, filling you to the brim. You could feel it, your soft walls wrapped around him, him pounding into you, your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades as you both came -

Before you knew it, you were coming, your peak hitting you suddenly. You screamed, head thrown back as your cunt squeezed and pulsed around your fingers.

“Steve! Fuck, oh my god, I’m cumming -”

“Shit - me too, princess. Oh -” he growled your name as he came and you convulsed and moaned as you thought about it, him spilling into his hand, your name on his lips.

You rode out your orgasm, brow sweating and breathing heavy as you came down from your high. You dropped the vibrator, the stimulation becoming too much. You just heard Steve’s labored breathing on the other end of the phone, both of you needing a moment to gather yourself. Eventually, you withdrew your fingers from yourself, grimacing. Your hand was soaked, coated in the evidence of your orgasm.

“Christ,” Steve breathed after a while, finally breaking the silence. “Baby, that was so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?” you asked. “What would you rate it?”

“Five out of five stars,” he joked. “Definitely would do it again.”

You laughed, slapping your palm to your forehead as you stared up at the ceiling. You had a stupid smile on your face, you could feel it. But, you didn’t really care - he wasn’t even here to see you.

“Same,” you said. “So, turns out you are good at phone sex.”

This earned a laugh from Steve on the other end, much to your satisfaction.

“Oh, yeah - but, I’m only going to get better with practice. Couldn’t hurt, right?”

You felt your face heat. You bit your lip, nodding.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Good,” he said. “Because whenever I'm away, I'm planning on doing this a lot."

That time, you let yourself giggle into the phone, practically giddy. And, you tried to ignore the small part of you, deep down, that ached.

******

The next day, you hardly heard from Steve, aside from the odd text exchange here and there. That was fine enough with you - Robin got it in her head to go out again, and you opted to go along. You finally met Vickie, who met you at the bar - she seemed lovely, and exactly Robin’s type. You had been spending so much time with Steve, that you had forgotten what it had felt like to be a normal 20-year-old. So, when you stumbled in the door at 3am and collapsed in your bed, you had hardly thought about Steve at all. That was, at least, until the following day. When you woke up, it was nearly noon, a headache already forming as you blinked groggily in the morning light. You reached for your phone, squinting as the newest message from Steve flashed across the screen:

Good morning :)

morning

After a few minutes, a response:

Did you just wake up?

yeah

Robin and I went out last night

i’m kinda hungover

Should you have told him that? Or, was he going to judge you, reprimand you, ask where you went? Then again, did he have any right to?

That sounds fun. Well, not the hangover, but going out. I hope you had a good time :)

Seemed legitimate enough - over text, you learned, Steve really only knows how to be genuine.

it was, i’m regretting it now tho

Well, take it easy. I’m heading out now, I’ll probably be busy most of the day.

What were you even supposed to say to that? Have fun? Of course he wouldn’t, it was a 12-hour workday. Did he even want you to say anything to that?

ok ☺️

It wasn’t until quite late that night that you heard from him again. You were getting ready for bed, brushing your teeth when his name popped up on your screen - but now, he was FaceTiming you. Part of you wondered if it was an accident, if he meant to just do a voice call instead, or perhaps not call you at all. Still, you quickly spit out your toothpaste and fumbled with the phone to answer. Steve’s face popped up, looking expectant. It had only been a few days since you actually saw him, and you felt your heart tighten anyway.

“Hey,” you said, trying to mask your surprise as you made your way back towards your bedroom. “What’s going on?”

Something faltered in his face, only for a split second - for all you knew, it was a connection glitch.

“Oh, nothing - sorry, should I not have called?”

“No! No, it’s fine, I just - didn’t take you for the FaceTiming type.”

“I’m thirty, not eighty.”

You rolled your eyes, plopping down onto your bed and settling until you were sitting up cross-legged.

“Allegedly, you old man. How was your day?”

He sighed deeply, in a way that you almost wished you hadn’t asked.

“Fine, I guess. Long. We’re really close to closing a major deal, but… it’s just -” he sighed again, rubbing his hand across his face. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details. But it’s taking longer than expected, and we’re really hitting some roadblocks.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied, frowning a bit. He looked tired, and stressed. All you wanted was to reach through the screen and kiss it better.

“It’s alright, I’m not expecting you to say anything - I don’t even know why I’m even telling you, I just -”

“-wanted to vent,” you finished. “Yeah, I get it. You can talk about these things with me, you know.”

He smiled wearily. “Thank you. Really.”

A moment of silence passed, before he spoke again.

“So - was your day at least good?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, it was fine. Nothing too exciting. Just did a lot of cleaning around the apartment, to be honest. Cooked dinner, had a night in. You know, nothing crazy.”

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah - nothing hydration and Advil couldn’t fix. It wasn’t too bad.”

You squinted at the screen for a moment, and realized he was sitting at a desk.

“Are you - are you FaceTiming me from your laptop?”

“Uh, yeah - why?”

You just giggled. “Nothing, it’s just… of course you are.”

He rolled his eyes, visibly fighting a smile. “I was doing work, and… I don’t know. I guess I just really wanted to see your face.”

You felt something warm in your chest, spreading through you until your ears tingled and face heated. You did your best to ignore it, just smiling back at him.

“It’s nice to see you, too,” you admitted. You felt a yawn coming on, but did your best to stifle it. Still, Steve apparently noticed, as his face set into a frown.

“Are you tired? I can go, if you want.”

“No, it’s okay! Seriously. If I hang up, I’ll just be on my phone for the next two hours, anyways.”

“As long as you’re sure -”

“I am.”

He nodded. “Okay. And I didn’t - I don’t want you to think I called for the same reason I did the other night, by the way. At least, not if you don’t want that.”

You felt your face flush at the memory.

“Then, why did you call? Just to see me?”

“Well, yes. And… this is going to sound stupid.”

“Try me,” you whispered, settling further into bed by the minute.

“I just - I haven’t been sleeping that well, since I’ve been here. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s just being in a hotel, but I usually get used to that after a night or so. But… maybe it’s just because I haven’t been sleeping alone much lately.”

Oh.

“Do you want me to stay on with you?” you asked softly.

He nodded, glancing down to avoid your gaze.

“Okay.”

So you did. You both just started talking, about your days, the book Steve was reading, the TV show you were binge-watching. What you did around the house that day, a quick tour of your (now cleaner) bedroom, which led to him asking about the photos pinned you your wall, and the tchotchkes on your bookshelf. You got the “grand” tour of his hotel room, which he evidently had been spending very little time in. Slowly, you began to carry more of the conversation, his responses coming slower, becoming shorter. You were both in your beds, lying sideways - he had set the computer on his lap, now barely visible through the dim light.

After who knows how long, you realized you had been talking and hardly heard a response from Steve. You paused, only hearing his slow, deep breathing. He was asleep, finally. Your initial response was relief - he needed to be up early, and if this is what it took for him to finally fall asleep, that was enough for you. But, another small part of you was indescribably sad. Sad for the man on the other end of the call, who was still a boy in so many ways, who couldn’t spend his nights alone, but probably often did…until recently.

“Goodnight, Steve,” you whispered. He, of course, didn’t hear. Maybe that was for the best.

When you hung up, it didn’t take you long to fall asleep. Your last thought before you drifted off was of Steve, and the way he had said I just really wanted to see your face.

*******

For the rest of Steve’s trip, you two fell into a routine - he’d call you late at night. You’d chat about your respective days, just catch up. Sometimes, he’d vent about his frustrations with work; other times, he’d just keep asking about you. It was the night before he came back that it came up.

“You’ll probably be relieved to come home tomorrow,” you said.

“Definitely,” he admitted. He was ready for bed, only wearing a white t-shirt from what you could see on-camera, back pressed against the headboard of his bed. He sighed, eyes fluttering shut. “I really need a break, even if it’s just for the weekend.”

“Yeah,” you said. “We don’t have to do something on Saturday, by the way. In case you’re tired from traveling.”

“No! I mean, I want to see you. My flight gets in around 9am, so maybe we can do dinner?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” you replied, fighting the encroaching excitement at the thought of being with him again. “Just let me know.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, after a moment. “Wait, it’s Friday night - why are you at home?”

There’s an unspoken question in there: you didn’t stay home just for me, right?

You shrugged. “Robin’s out with Vickie, and - I don’t know, I thought about going out, doing something, but I just didn’t really feel like it.”

“Oh, okay - just making sure. Because, you’re twenty - if you want to do something fun over the weekend, it’s okay -”

“Almost twenty-one,” you joked, not even thinking as you said it. He paused, eyebrows raised.

“Almost? Is your birthday soon?”

You looked up, shrugging. “Oh, yeah - it’s next week, on the 18th.”

“Do you have something planned for it?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, not really. Maybe Robin and I will go out to dinner with some friends, or something. I don’t know, I’ve never been big on my birthday.”

He paused for a moment, and you were suddenly afraid that he’d ask why. But, he didn’t. Instead, he just said, “Well, your 21st birthday is kind of a big deal.”

“I mean, in the States, yes. But, I can already go out to a bar here, so the novelty’s kind of worn off. Just means I’m another year older, really.”

“But, still… it’s worth celebrating, right?”

You shrugged, maintaining an air of nonchalance.

“Sure, I guess.”

It went silent for a moment, Steve evidently starting to open a new tab and start typing on his computer.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Nothing, just… thinking.”

You just shrugged, choosing to not even worry about it. Knowing him, he was probably responding to work emails, despite it being nearly midnight.

“You don’t want to do too much of that, you know,” you said sarcastically.

Steve scoffed, tearing his eyes from the screen back to you.

“You know, I’ve been keeping a list of all these clever quips you’ve been throwing my way,” he said.

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do with that?”

He smiled then, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Make sure I find ways to shut you up, once I get back.”

You nearly choked on nothing, ears roaring as the blood rushed to your head. Steve must’ve noticed how caught off-guard you were, the way your mouth hung open, eyes wide. He smirked, clearly self-satisfied. That alone helped you regain your footing. In a measured voice, you replied:

“I hope that’s a promise, sir.”

His eyes darkened a bit, and he smiled.

“Take your clothes off. Right now.”

Who were you to say no to that?

******

When you woke up the next morning, strangely, there wasn’t a text from Steve. You frowned at your phone, blinking groggily. It was Saturday, and nearly noon - after spreading yourself on camera for Steve, both of you coming together with each other’s names on your lips, you had fallen into a deep, blissful sleep. Despite your lie-in, Steve should’ve touched down back in Rome by now. You had figured, at the very least, that he would’ve sent you a text with instructions for tonight.

You groaned, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, before slowly rolling out of bed. As you padded down the hallway, you heard movement in the kitchen. Robin must’ve already been awake. You prayed that she had already made coffee - if she hadn’t eaten yet, maybe you two would order something, or go out.

“Hey, Robs?” you called, stifling a yawn. “Is there coffee on? Because if not -”

You stopped in your tracks. Because, standing in your kitchen with Robin, was Steve. He was dressed casually, just in jeans and a black t-shirt, leaning against the counter with one hand shoved in his pocket, the other grasping a mug. He straightened up when he saw you, smiling.

“Oh - hey,” you said stiffly, trying to figure out if you were still dreaming or not.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Robin said brightly. She immediately handed you a mug of coffee, knowing you well enough that she didn’t even have to ask. You accepted it, eyes darting back and forth between her and Steve.

“I - what are you doing here?” you asked. Realizing you sounded accusatory, you added, “It’s just - I hadn’t heard anything, I didn’t realize you were coming over -”

“Oh, this is a surprise,” he assured, smiling. Even after a week of not seeing him in-person, you felt your heart quicken at the sight of him - how boyishly handsome he was, how he stared at you like you were the only thing in the room.

“A surprise?” you echoed.

“Yeah,” Robin added. “See, Steve asked if he could come over - wait, how did you even get my number?”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve got my ways, Buckley.”

Robin just rolled her eyes. “Well, anyway - Steve came over because, well, he wanted to talk about some stuff. Well, ask me about - why don’t you tell her?” she asked, redirecting her attention to Steve.

“Right, yeah, okay.”

He locked eyes with you, grinning. “Pack your bags, we’re leaving today, for a week.”

“Leaving? For where?”

“That’s a surprise,” he said. “But, we’re taking a trip, just you and me. And, I came over to run it by Robin, and to assure her that I’m not planning on murdering you. Which, by the way, I would’ve done by now if I wanted to.”

Robin shrugged, taking a sip from her mug.

“Can’t ever be too careful.”

You shook your head.

“I - so, what’s going on? Why is this a surprise? And, don’t you have work?”

“I took the week off,” he assured. “In my seven years in this company, I’ve never taken a vacation. Not a personal day, anything. I’ve accrued a lot, and this is a pretty damn good reason to use it.”

You cocked an eyebrow, confused.

“What is?”

Steve’s eyes flitted up and down your form once, before settling his gaze back on yours, smiling warmly. You were still in your pajamas, and probably should’ve been embarrassed. But, with the way he was looking at you, you found it hard to be.

“This vacation, it’s my gift to you,” he said. “Happy birthday.”

*******

author's note: thanks for your patience, everyone. The next last few chapters are going to be longer, and have a lot more "plot" (aka fluff and angst). I also can't keep a taglist for this fic anymore - it's too long, which is a nice problem to have, but still a problem! To make sure you never miss an installment, make sure to turn on post notifications for the blog. Also keep an eye out for my new Steve series, coming soon. As always, thank you to Em - she knows why :)

KO-FI ♡

#dcmb fic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington/fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #st fic #steve harrington/reader smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you

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katyswrites · 1 year

Text

don't call me 'baby'

PART 6 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, discussions of past trauma, daddy kink, ddlg dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, slight breeding kink, dirty talk, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, jealous!Steve, overstimulation, swearing, sexual harassment/men being gross, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 9.2k

PART 6 | honey, hell is when I fight with you

You left Steve’s apartment and made your way home in a daze. After studying the save the date and reading it approximately a hundred times, you shoved it back into the drawer and shut it. You moved quickly after that, your only thought being that you needed to get out of this apartment before Steve got back. You gathered your discarded dress off of the floor, only realizing halfway to the door that you were only wearing a robe. You paused, then scoffed inwardly - Steve probably wouldn’t notice if a few things were missing from his closet, and even if he did, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. That’s how you found yourself pulling a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants out of his dresser, nearly in shock that he even owned anything like that. You pulled them on quickly, hardly caring that they didn’t fit right, pointedly ignoring the fact that the clothes smelled like him - his aftershave, a hint of smoke, and something so distinctly Steve.

You tore out of the elevator and stumbled onto the street, blinking in the bright morning light. You stalked up and down the streets for a while, realizing that you really didn’t know your way around this side of the city - Steve’s chauffeur had always driven you to and from here, and you had never had much of a reason to come here previously. After what felt like ages, you found a bus stop, luckily with a line that would take you back home. You didn’t remember much of the journey home after that - it was all in a blur, the blood rushing through your head making your ears roar, your hands shaking and breathing heavily.

A million thoughts ran through your mind, forehead pressed against the glass as the city flew past. The image of Steve and Nancy was imprinted in your mind, the text of the invite practically memorized. You felt your eyes burn, but did everything within your power to not let any tears fall. The initial shock was already wearing off, and you found yourself fluctuating through a range of feelings: Devastation. Regret. Sadness. Anger. As the moments ticked by, anger seemed to be winning.

You felt like an idiot, an absolute fool for not considering this as a possibility. Steve had felt too good to be true, and it’s because he was. It explained so much, really - why he rarely talked about home, evaded questions about his personal life, why he traveled so much for work… were those trips to other cities and countries just back to the United States, a quick rendezvous to see his wife? You felt stupid, small, and used. And that was why, with each passing moment, you became angry.

Steve is lucky that you weren’t still at the apartment when he came home. If you were, there’s a good chance you would’ve killed him. How could things have gone wrong so quickly? Twelve hours ago, you were writhing beneath him, Steve whispering sweet nothings into your ears as he touched you everywhere. Just two hours ago, you had woken up in his bed, waiting for him to come back with breakfast, blissfully unaware. But now… now, you just wanted to scream, to wish you had never met him. You’d rather be run down and broke if it meant you never had to feel like this.

You were still working through these thoughts as you made the walk from the bus stop to your apartment, moving on autopilot as you went up the stairs and opened the door, fumbling with the keys thanks to your blurring vision and shaking hands. You made enough of a ruckus that Robin was glancing over from where she was seated on the couch, grinning.

“Hey! I was about to send a search party, but I’m guessing that the night went pretty great -”

It was a miracle, really, that you had held yourself together as long as you did. But, the moment the door had clicked shut behind you, and you saw Robin’s beaming face, you lost all semblance of composure that you had been holding onto. You felt the tears start to fall, fast and hot, and you let out a choked sob.

Robin was up off the couch and to you in seconds. It was like a dam had opened, the tears flowing, your body convulsing as you fell into her arms.

“Oh, babe,” she whispered, “what did he do?”

You just pulled her tighter, burying your face into her shoulder as the wave of devastation finally, truly set in. You were an absolute mess, and it was all Steve Harrington’s fault. You decided then and there that you would always hate him for it.

******

The first thing he did was text you. When you heard the telltale ding from your phone, you instinctively knew it was him. Your nose was runny, your eyes red and puffy as tear stains dried on your cheeks, warm and sticky. Robin has unearthed some chocolate from the cupboard, scrolling through Netflix for something comforting to watch. You glanced down at your phone, your stomach turning at the sight of his name on the screen:

Hey! Is everything okay? I thought you’d still be here. If you had somewhere to be though, I understand - errands this morning took longer than I thought. I hope you had fun last night.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing as you read it. This, of course, was followed immediately by another round of tears, albeit more quiet and soft. You couldn’t help it - despite feeling cried-out, your vision blurred as you felt the tears start to fall again. It felt ridiculous, to let him make you cry like this. You should be furious, over this already, but it still just made you sad, as stupidly simple as that sounded.

You felt Robin’s eyes on you, and you just turned your phone for her to look. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, fuck him - if I ever see him out in the wild -”

“I’m just - I’m not going to respond,” you said, voice a bit thick and hoarse still.

“I mean, if I were you -”

“But you’re not,” you snapped. “And I just don’t want to talk to him, okay?”

Robin went quiet, staring down at her hands.

“Yeah - okay, no problem -” she said, voice quiet. You felt a surge of guilt run through you.

“Robin - hey, I’m sorry. It’s not you, I’m just -” you sighed, pinching your temples.

“I know,” Robin said softly. “It’s okay - I get it. I mean, fuck him, right?”

You feigned a thin smile, wiping your eyes.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Fuck him.”

Robin leaned back, opening up her arms. You took the invitation and laid down on your side, putting your head in her lap and facing the TV.

“What’re we watching?” you asked quietly.

“Whatever you want, babe,” she replied, running her fingers gently across your scalp.

And, for a while, you pushed Steve from your mind, fell into a state of acceptance, and let yourself appreciate having someone like her in your life, when seemingly everyone else had let you down.

*****

Steve texted you four more times that day, the first coming a few hours later. The longer you went without responding, though, the quicker he sent a follow-up, each message growing increasingly frantic:

Is everything alright?

Are you free to talk right now? I just want to make sure you’re okay.

This is going to sound stupid, but I’m freaking out a little - can you at least let me know you’re alive? And that you made it home okay?

Do I need to send out a search party? Because I will, if I have to.

Then, around 4pm, the phone calls started. The first time your phone buzzed, you ignored it and let it go to voicemail. For a while, you opted to just leave your phone in your bedroom and stay in the living room with Robin, ordering takeout and watching terrible reality television. It almost took your mind off of things. Almost.

At some point, Robin broke out a bottle of wine that had been hiding in the back of the pantry. It was pretty cheap, which you probably wouldn’t have noticed before. But lately, you’d only been drinking the good stuff. Still, it got you a little tipsy, made you relax just a bit, and you soon found yourself laughing like a child with Robin over something so silly, you couldn’t even recall what it was. Then, it was getting late, a little past midnight, and you remembered that Robin had work in the morning.

You probably would too, soon. You’d likely have to go back to the coffee shop, and ask for your shifts back. That would be easy - the gig at Enoteca might be harder to get back. You had enough money banked from Steve’s allowance that you’d be fine at least for a while. But, before the semester started back up, you had to begrudgingly accept that you’d have to get back to your shitty jobs again. But, that was a problem to deal with tomorrow. For now, you put on a brave face, and bid goodnight to Robin.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” she asked from the bathroom doorway.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Not right now. But… I’m dealing with it. Don’t worry too much about me, okay?”

You knew she’d probably let you sleep in her bed with her tonight, if you asked. You’d do the same for her. But it felt childish, and you had a feeling you already weren’t going to sleep well tonight. So Robin frowned, but nodded, murmuring, “Yeah, alright.”

You soon found yourself in your bedroom, alone. The moment the door shut behind you, you let out a deep, shuddering breath. For the first time since arriving home that day, you were actually alone.

You moved slowly, pulling on your pajamas and sliding under your covers. You sagged with relief, the weight of the day fully sinking in. You were exhausted, so deeply that it seeped into your bones. For a moment, you wondered if you would sink deep enough into the mattress that you’d fall right through, and never come back up.

You were letting your eyes flutter shut when your phone buzzed on your nightstand. You groaned, rolling over and squinting at the brightness of the bluelight. Steve’s contact name was on your screen - you suddenly found yourself thankful that you didn’t actually have any pictures of him, because the thought of seeing his contact photo on your screen right now was too much to handle.

You had been letting it go to voicemail all day. But, this time, you pressed DECLINE.

The screen goes dim. You click it on, and see a notification:

Steve Harrington

Missed Call (8)

You shook your head, laughing sardonically. You should’ve been spiteful, and left that wedding invite out on the bed for him to find, so he knew exactly why you didn't want to speak to him.

Despite yourself, you pictured it again in your mind. The photo of Steve and that woman, smiling and picture-perfect against the sunset. The giant diamond on her finger, the way his arms were wrapped around her. And, her name: Nancy Wheeler.

You knew that you shouldn’t do it. But, you were so morbidly curious. So, despite better judgment, you found yourself opening up Instagram, and typing in her name.

You scrolled through a few, until you finally spotted a profile called @nancewheeler with an icon that you were 98% sure was her. You tapped on it, only to find it to be private, much to your disappointment. Although, maybe it was for the best - what were you expecting to find? Photos from her wedding? Posts with Steve, wishing him a happy birthday, going on trips, spending holidays together? That would only be more painful.

She had more than a respectable amount of followers for an average person, and she looks just as beautiful in her tiny profile photo as she did on the card. The profile reads:

emerson 14’. columbia ‘16. permanently peckish.

IN → NY

You bit your lip. Even with these small scraps of information, she seemed smart, cool, and more put-together than you’ve ever been.

Next, you went to Facebook - you found her profile, but it looked like it hadn’t been active for several years. The last public update was in 2018 - it was photos from a Christmas party. And, sickeningly, Steve is in the pictures, laughing as she’s curled into his side, both donning Christmas sweaters and paper crowns.

Steve looked younger, and maybe the happiest you’ve ever seen him. You closed it quickly, feeling stupid for the way your eyes burned when thinking about it. Next, you Googled her name - and, a lot came up. She was a writer for the New York Times. She’s published some hard-hitting stuff - exclusive profiles, breaking news coverage, in-depth exposes ranging from political cover-ups to tainted city water supplies to sexual harassment in Hollywood. You hit the paywall after a few articles, but you scrolled through the headlines. She was the real thing. Of course she was. How could Steve not fall in love with her?

You closed the browser and shut off your phone, throwing your covers over your head and burying your face in the pillow. You willed sleep to overtake you, but instead, your phone buzzed again. You huffed, twisting around and snatching it off of th nightstand. You declined the call again, put the phone on Do Not Disturb, and rolled back over.

This time, though, you let the tears fall. You had been holding them back ever since your breakdown with Robin earlier. But you weren’t done yet, and you had known it - but now, you sobbed into your pillow. You weren’t sure when sleep came and put you out of your misery, but your last thoughts before drifting off were of Steve, and how you hated him, but not as much as you wanted to.

*****

TWO DAYS LATER

“Seriously, it’s fine,” you assured Robin. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know! It’s just… I feel shitty for going on a date while you’re… well, you know.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Just because I’m going through a tough time doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t have fun.”

Robin crosses her arms.

“I’m just saying -”

“Robin! This is what, your fifth date with Vickie? Sixth? You like her - I see the way you talk about her. Just go - seriously, I’m just going to be here, watching TV and eating leftovers. Go have fun on my behalf, yeah?”

Robin pondered it for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah, okay - but, if you need anything -”

“Just go, will you?” you said, smiling. “I think I can be alone for a few hours, you know. Or… maybe more than a few, if it goes well -”

“Ugh! Gross!” Robin cried, grimacing.

“What’s gross about me wanting my best friend to get laid? If you don’t come home, I’ll just assume that you’re hav-”

“Okay, you win! I’m leaving, maybe forever!”

“Bring an umbrella!” you shouted.

You laughed, settling into the couch and turning your attention back to the television as you heard the door click behind her. The apartment was quiet - you hadn’t really had it to yourself in a while, and as comforting as Robin’s presence was, you were glad to be alone for a bit. And, although it was bittersweet, you couldn’t help but feel giddy that things seemed to be going well with Vickie - after hearing Robin rave about that cute girl in my art history class for a whole semester, you had told her enough was enough, and she should buck up and ask her out. Occasionally, you were capable of giving out good advice, it turns out.

A storm was raging outside, the rain pounding against the glass as the wind whistled. It was forecasted to pour all night, much-needed relief after an unusually hot and dry past few weeks. To you, that meant a night in sweatpants, getting under the covers early, and falling asleep to the sound of the rainfall. To you, that sounded just fine.

Even though it had only been a few days, you found yourself thinking of Steve less than you thought you would. Granted, that wasn’t much. But, it was something.

To say you got your heart broken would’ve been dramatic. He wasn’t your boyfriend - outside of bed, there was nothing affectionate between you two. Your relationship had been an arrangement, a transaction, and nothing more. No, instead, you just felt used - he knew exactly what he was doing. And, you had been stupid enough to fall for it. When you thought of him, you just felt dread, a stroke of anger, and ultimately settled on defeat. He still called, and occasionally texted - asking what was wrong, wondering if he did something, demanding an explanation. He had left voicemails, too - you hadn’t brought yourself to listen to them. Hearing his voice was too tangible, too real. Besides, there probably wasn��t much he could possibly have to say to you. You had considered blocking his number several times - Robin had practically demanded it. But, every time you tried, your finger hovered over the button, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to.

It was a little past 8pm when you heard a knock on your door. You were munching on popcorn half-watching a Netflix rom-com while mindlessly scrolling on your phone. You jumped, glancing over the couch towards the door - was it Robin? It must be, if it wasn’t somebody ringing the buzzer from downstairs. Maybe she was locked out. That would be really early for her to be back, though - unless somehow, something had gone terribly wrong on her date. The thought of that alone was enough to form a knot in your stomach. You leapt up from the couch, practically running to the door. You were so frantic, so worried, that it hadn’t even occurred to you to check through the peephole and see who it was.

You braced yourself as you unlocked and opened the door.

“Why are you already -”

Then, you froze. Because, standing there in the doorway, dripping with rainwater and shivering, was Steve Harrington.

His eyes widened when he saw you, his chest heaving - he must’ve run up the four flights of stairs. After a few seconds, once the initial shock wore off, you straightened up, moving to immediately slam the door in his face.

“Wait, hold on-” he started, catching the door in his hand. You considered trying to slam it even harder, hopefully to catch his fingers in the process, but you decide to relent.

“Please,” he said, voice a bit softer. “I - give me five minutes to explain, yeah? If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll walk out of here, and never come back. I promise you.”

You held his stare, pointedly trying to ignore his pleading eyes, and the way it made something in your chest crumble. Fuck.

“Goddammit,” you muttered under your breath. You sighed, taking a step back and opening the door, only just wide enough for him to shoulder his way in. You took a few steps back, crossing your arms and popping your hip. He was smart enough to keep his distance, standing on the other side of the room.

It was only now that it occurred to you that he had never been in your apartment. You had always made him wait downstairs, embarrassed by how small it probably would seem to him, how juvenile and messy the place looked. You also became acutely aware of your oversized threadbare t-shirt, your old sweatpants, the fact that he had never exactly seen you like this before. You felt the blood rush into your cheeks, the self-consciousness suddenly all-consuming.

No, you thought, I’m not the one who should be ashamed here.

So, you straightened up, holding firm. This was your home - he wasn’t much more than an intruder in it.

The way he was looking at you wasn’t unlike how you imagine prey looking at a predator, unnervingly wary, frozen in place. After it became clear that you weren’t going to be the one to initiate the conversation, he took a deep breath.

“Okay, so - I have a feeling why you disappeared on me.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, do you now?”

Your words were curt, tone biting.

“Yeah, well - okay, look - I’ve been really worried about you. I thought something had happened. Or, maybe I scared you off with something I said, or did… but, I thought it was crazy to come over here, even though I thought about it about a hundred times -”

“Well, yeah, showing up unannounced to the place where I live, in the pouring rain, in the middle of the night - that would be crazy, good thing you didn’t -”

“Yeah, I get it. But, the point is, I didn’t know why you left, or what happened, until now. I was cleaning up around my place, and - all of my stuff kind of has its place, you know? And, I saw my spare phone charger plugged into the wall, and I thought that was weird, because I didn’t remember putting it there… or pulling it out of its drawer…and that’s when I knew. You saw - what you saw, it isn’t what you think -”

“Isn’t it?” you asked. “Because to me, it looks like you had a wedding last September, Harrington. Let me guess - you had to come live abroad for what, six months, and couldn’t go that long without getting laid? I mean, you’re just like the rest of them -”

“Baby, no -”

“Don’t call me that!” you cried, not even realizing how close it was to a scream until it came out. You felt your eyes welling up, starting to sting, and you internally scolded yourself for letting him already get you like this.

“You don’t get to call me anything, I’m not your anything -”

“I’m not married!” he finally said, screaming to be heard over you.

You stopped mid-sentence, pausing for a moment, then scoffed.

“Do you really expect me to believe that? I saw it - Nancy, is it? Is she back in the U.S., just completely oblivious?”

He winced visibly at her name, like it was something foul.

“I wouldn’t know, considering I haven’t spoken to her in a year!”

It’s silent for a moment, both of you breathing heavily with frustration, too worked up. You opened your mouth to say something, but the words died on your tongue. He was still holding your gaze, unrelenting. There was something in the way he was looking at you, something saying please. You just held your ground, arms still crossed, mouth shut.

Steve took a moment, shutting his eyes and exhaling deeply, gathering himself.

“I - she called it off. Like, two months before the wedding. We - we had been having some issues. I ignored them, because I wanted to make it work. I really did. But… she didn’t, I guess. So, we went our separate ways. I haven’t seen her since she moved out of our - my, place. I swear to you - I didn’t lie to you.”

You bit your lip, letting your eyes drift downwards to the floor to avoid his gaze as you considered what he was saying. He had a lot of reasons to lie - but, there wasn’t much evidence suggesting that it wasn’t true. You nodded slowly.

“That’s not true,” you said.

“What?”

“That you didn’t lie. That’s not true.”

“I’m telling you -”

“No,” you interrupted, snapping up to meet his eyes again. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt for like, 5 minutes, and believe you. Believe that you aren’t with her anymore, I mean. But - you still lied. Back at the coffee shop, when I asked why you didn’t want a real relationship.”

His shoulders sagged a bit.

“What makes you say that?”

“You said you’re too busy - married to your job, don’t have time, all of that. And yeah, maybe that’s partially true. But don’t tell me that Nancy isn’t part of that. She is, right?”

He stared at you for a moment, considering what you were implying carefully, and nodded slowly.

“Yeah - kind of.”

“You don’t have to tell me everything that happened, but I need you -”

“No, I’ll tell you,” he conceded. “Can I sit?”

You nodded in the direction of the couch, watching him as he slowly walked over and sunk down. You stayed standing, holding your ground. He sat there for a moment, and you could tell that he was trying his best to compose himself. After a deep breath, he started talking.

“Nancy and I met in college, my junior year. We didn’t go to the same school, but we were both living in Boston, ran in similar circles, all of that. I’ll be honest with you - I was crazy about her, from the second I met her. And, I don’t know, it felt right, I guess? Or, maybe it didn’t, and I just wanted to lock it down, hold onto her. She also came from a good family, my parents loved her, all of that. So, after she finished grad school, I was already working my way up in the company, so I proposed. I’m sure a lot of people thought I was crazy - we were still pretty young, you know? I honestly was shocked that she said yes. I guess that was a sign, right?”

He was hardly looking at you as he told the story, his words careful and measured. His voice was quiet, solemn.

“So, we were engaged for a while - things kept getting in the way. Or, maybe we were searching for reasons to delay it all, I don’t know. Looking back, here’s so much I didn’t know. But, I was working a lot - long hours, late nights, traveling constantly. And Nancy was making her own name, always busy - she’s a journalist, a really good one. So, we hardly saw one another. And when we did, it was like we were strangers. Or, even worse, we kept fighting about stupid shit. Like, who was supposed to wash the dishes, schedule mix-ups, the wedding guest list. I think we were just both stressed with work, and we were both starting to figure out that we had less in common than we thought. And then… one night, at a friend’s wedding, Nancy got drunk. Like, really drunk. And she didn’t do that often, and I was honestly happy to see her letting loose. But then she had a little too much fun, started stumbling, feeling sick, and I tried to get her to leave. And, that’s when she started being brutally honest about everything.”

His voice got thick for a second, and he paused for a moment to pull himself together. This was painful for him - really painful. The kind of pain that you can’t make up.

“I won’t get into everything she said, but - I replay that conversation in my head, constantly. It brought a lot of things to light - we didn’t love each other the same way, and we didn’t want the same things for the future. She was totally blackout, of course. So the next day, when she was sober, I told her what happened, and asked if she meant it. She couldn’t answer me. And you wanna know the most pathetic part? I still wanted to fight for us, to proceed with the wedding, figure it all out… but I guess it got her thinking. I came back from work a few days later, and she was gone. She packed up all of her stuff, left the ring, and a note. And that was it. I haven’t seen her since. So yeah, you’re right - I’m not looking for a relationship. Because I don’t need anything like that to happen to me ever again. You wanted honesty? There, you have it.”

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands.

This was a version of Steve you’d never seen before. There was a lot about him that you still didn’t know, sides you haven’t seen, you knew that. But this…

There were now a few more things about Steve Harrington of which you were absolutely certain, adding to your ever-growing list. He was heartbroken. He was scared. A part of him, however big or small, was still yearning for Nancy, wistfully mourning what could have been. And, he was telling you the truth.

In theory, he could’ve been lying about the whole thing. He could have fabricated some detailed, believable story about his forlorn ex-fiancee, playing up the heartbreak, putting on the performance of a lifetime. But you just knew - from the way his voice had sounded, the way his body sagged and deflated, the way he was now staring at you to gauge your reaction: he was being honest with you. And, everything about your arrangement, the way he spoiled you, his desperation when you were in bed, his stony persona outside of it… all of the pieces were falling into place. And you had just spent the last two days in agony for nothing.

He wanted you to say something, you knew that. But, you didn’t say a word. Instead, you kept his stare, slowly crossing the room until you were right in front of him. He never tore his gaze away from you, eyes following as you slowly sank to your knees, down to his level.

“So, are you gonna say some-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish, because you were kissing him, soft and slow. He stiffened, then relaxed, easing into the kiss. He brought his hands to your face, grasping you gently as he pulled you close.

“You don’t have to -”

“No,” you said firmly, cutting him off. “Stop talking. There’s only one thing I want to do right now.”

“What?” he breathed.

“Make you forget all about her.”

His eyes widened, and you were on him again, situating yourself in his lap. You started kissing him again, but more hurriedly, hungrily. He responded, melting back into the couch as you straddled him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He groaned against your lips, his tongue finding its way into your mouth. You let him, smiling at the way the telltale bulge was already growing in his jeans, the way he moaned when you brushed over it.

It had only been a few days, and you realized then how much you had missed him, as silly as it sounded. But the smell of his cologne, the taste of him, the sounds he was making under you, everything that was Steve - it was addicting.

So, the pair of you found your way back to your bedroom, gnashing teeth and tongues, whimpers and groans into each other’s skin, and hardly any actual talking happened after that.

*******

That night, you did your best to keep your promise to make Steve forget all about Nancy. With the way he was screaming your name by the end of it, you considered it a success.

You kissed him all over, pressing your lips and dragging your tongue over him until he was practically putty, begging you to touch him. And you did, wrapping your mouth around where he wanted you most. And, you had your fun, making up for your pent up frustration - you edged him, teasing and pulling him right to the peak until he was begging for release, practically crying. He was a mess, babbling a nonsensical cacophony of sweet praises, filthy promises, calling you his good girl and baby. When you finally lowered yourself onto him, you made him look at you as you rode him. You experimented with how far you could push it, forcing his fingers to your clit as you did.

Oh, daddy, you had moaned, looking down at him smugly. Does this feel good? Do you like when your good girl rides you? I bet you do. C’mon, daddy - make your girl cum, yeah? I need to cum on your cock, sir. Cum inside me, you know you want to -

And he did, just like that, a desperate mess beneath you. You were so worked up, the rollercoaster of the last few days coming to a head, that you followed moments later, pulling him close as you came down from your highs together, chests heaving.

Afterwards, he had kissed apologies into your skin, whispering all the ways he was going to make it up to you. You just quieted his worries, whispering, “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“No,” he replied softly.

“Okay. Then the rest we can handle.”

And that was that. You didn’t even say anything when he fell asleep, right there in your bed. Instead, you buried yourself into his side, and had a peaceful sleep for the first time since the night of the gala.

Things went back to normal after that. Or, something like it. There was of course an explanation needed for Robin - she had nearly thrown a plate at Steve when she saw him in the kitchen the next morning. It took some talking down, and a series of death glares shot in his direction, but when you got her alone, she eventually decided to believe you, allowing Steve Harrington to live to see another day. It was easy enough, considering that the conversation quickly pivoted to the fact that Robin had spent the night at Vickie’s. She just blushed, punched you in the arm, and grumbled something about minding your business as she stalked back to the kitchen.

No, things weren’t back to normal. Yes, you and Steve resumed your arrangement, going out to nice dinners, having (incredible) sex after, and continuing your payments. He even gave you back the earrings you had purposely left back at his place the morning you had stormed out, despite your insistence that they were far too opulent. But, he was persistent, and they now sat on your nightstand, glimmering even in the dimmest light.

But, there was something new now. It was unspoken, barely tangible. For all you knew, the feeling was one-sided. But, Steve had shared this personal, vulnerable side of himself with you. You knew far more about him than you ever had before, and more often than not, you couldn’t help but notice the air of melancholy that followed him at all times, subtle yet unshakeable. And, you had shown him more of yourself than you had intended, too. You could be stubborn, and spiteful, and would much rather throw up walls and run than face the possibility of putting yourself in a position to be abandoned. Your immediate jump to a conclusion about Steve’s marriage, and your reaction after, was enough to prove that. He had seen this ugly, not-so-reasonable side of you. But he had come back anyway, and he continued to take care of you in every sense that he had been before.

A few weeks later, he texted you in the morning like he often did:

Hey there - are you free tonight at 7?

You found yourself smiling at the message, only to immediately catch it and stop. You responded:

yep - ill be ready for you

He responded almost immediately:

Perfect. I’ll see you then - maybe wear the necklace I gave you, that first one? I like seeing you in it.

You felt your face heat, the novelty of him telling you what he liked to see you wear still not completely worn off. You felt yourself smirking as you sent back:

anything for you daddy

You saw him start typing. Then stop. Then start again.

Christ - I’m in a meeting. You’re going to pay for that later.

Still feeling bold, you sent one last message:

i really hope so 😉

That was how you found yourself out to dinner at yet another 5-star restaurant, sipping wine and perusing the menu. You were debating with Steve whether to get appetizers or not when you heard a familiar voice calling your name. You looked up, eyes shooting towards the direction it came from, and immediately smiling when you spotted him.

“Eddie?”

And there he was: Eddie Munson, your dear friend. He had his long curls tied up into a loose bun, his shirt more unbuttoned than buttoned, a camera slung over his shoulder. His tattoos peaked through the rolled-up sleeves and on his collarbone, and you could swear he’d gotten more since the last time you saw him. You practically jumped up out of your seat, giddy as he came right up to the table. You threw your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace without a second thought.

“Ciao, bella,” he said endearingly, laughing in your ear. He pulled back, looking you up and down as he continued in Italian, “Look at you! Did you raid a model’s closet, or something?”

You giggled, rolling your eyes.

“Oh, stop - don’t act like you’ve never seen me look nice!”

“You always look nice, sweetheart. It’s been so long!”

“I know!” you said excitedly. “I mean, it’s been crazy so far this summer. I -”

You stopped yourself, then just shrugged.

“It’s been busy, that’s all.”

It was then that you regained awareness of Steve, who stared up at both of you from where he still sat at the table. His brow was furrowed in confusion, and you realized he probably barely caught a word of what you and Eddie had been saying. You caught his eye, and smiled.

“Eddie, this is my - well, uh… this is Steve,” you said in English, gesturing between the two men.

“Steve,” Eddie said warmly, extending his hand. Steve took it, shaking his hand firmly. Taking your queue, he continued in English, “Pleasure to meet you. You’re lucky to know this lady right here, you know.”

You felt yourself blushing, and shook your head vigorously.

“Eddie -”

“I’m just being honest, bella!”

Steve finally spoke up, taking a second to clear his throat.

“I, uh - how do you two know each other?”

“Oh, well, we both are at the university together,” you explained. “Eddie was actually a teaching assistant for an art history class I had to take. It wasn’t exactly my thing, but he really is the reason I passed.”

“Oh, c’mon, you excelled in that class. You’re smart -” Eddie started.

“So… you guys are… friends?” Steve asked tentatively.

“Yes, the dearest of friends,” Eddie answered. “We just don’t get a chance to see each other too much lately, since I finished school.”

“What’re you doing here, anyways?” you asked.

“Oh - the restaurant hired me to take some photos for their website. Pictures of plates of food, the space, ambience, that sort of thing. Not exactly my passion project, but it pays the bills, right?”

“Eddie’s a photographer,” you explained to Steve, turning to glance back at him. “And, well, a musician - his band is great. But, he’s an amazing photographer, a real professional - you should see his stuff!”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve said quietly.

“But, darling,” Eddie started, “you really should model for me again. I swear, these gigs are killing me - I want to shoot something beautiful again!”

You felt the heat creep up into your face even more, and just shook your head.

“Oh, stop it -”

“Model?” Steve asked, sitting up a little straighter.

“Yes!” Eddie said enthusiastically. “Our girl here, she’s a marvel in front of the camera - I used her for so many projects in school, even shot her for my final portfolio. She’s like my - ah, what’s the English word… muse! Yes, my muse.”

“Is that so?” Steve asked slowly.

“He’s exaggerating, I just posed for a few projects he was in a pinch for -” you started.

“And I need to feel passionate like that again. You should come by the studio, seriously, I’d feel alive again -”

“Totally!” you exclaimed. “Text me the address, let me know when you’re working. I’d love to come by!”

“Beautiful,” he said, grinning in the way Eddie always does. “Well, I’ll leave you back to your meal, but it was lovely to see you.”

“Same,” you said, beaming. He leaned forward, leaving a kiss on each cheek, and he set off back behind the bar, setting his camera on a tripod as he returned to work.

You settled back in your seat, smiling to yourself. Steve was just staring at you, his face neutral.

“So, you and him… you’re close?”

You shrugged, bringing your eyes back to the menu.

“Yeah, you can say that. He really helped me with getting a better grasp of Italian, too - you should’ve seen me that first year, I was so lost. He’s a nice guy, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said quietly. “Seems… friendly.”

For the rest of dinner, Steve was strangely quiet. Not silent, exactly - he still laughed at your jokes, chimed in on the stories you told, and, his breath audibly hitched when your hand found his knee under the table. He paid the bill quickly, both of you simultaneously deciding to book it to the car as fast as you could. He yanked open the door and gestured for you to go in, quickly following and slamming it shut behind him. As the car peeled away from the sidewalk and towards Steve’s apartment, a silence fell between you. The entire ride was silent. When you arrived at Steve’s building, you both exited the car and went upstairs without a word. Something was off - it was enough that you couldn’t really bear it anymore, and once you were through the door, you just blurted it out.

“Is everything okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

You shrugged.

“It’s just - you’ve been kind of quiet. Something on your mind?”

Steve stood on the other side of the island in the kitchen, arms crossed.

“Eddie,” he mumbled.

You raised an eyebrow, confused. “What about Eddie? Do you know him or something?”

“No, no - but… you do. He just seemed… is there something I don’t know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Were you and him ever… well, you know…”

That’s what this was about? Eddie? You found yourself starting to laugh, palm to your mouth as you shook your head.

“Oh, God no. We’re just friends, and always have been.”

“Someone should tell him that.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, you don’t get it - he’s like that with everyone. He’s just, so… like that. Seriously, he could flirt with a brick wall. And he probably would, to be honest.”

“He was calling you his muse -”

“He’s dramatic like that -”

“And what kinds of pictures was he taking of you, exactly?”

You furrowed your brow, Steve’s face set like stone. Then, realizing what he was implying, you felt your face heat.

“Come on - my clothes were on, if that’s what you’re asking. But, quite frankly, even if something had happened between me and Eddie, it’s not really any of your business.”

His face faltered for a moment, and you realized you had struck a nerve. You sighed, pressing your hand to your forehead.

“I just mean that… you don’t have anything to worry about, okay? He’s just a friend.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, and he nodded.

“Okay.”

Part of you was pissed off that this conversation was even happening. But another part of you was thrilled. The thought of Steve actually being jealous… It was new. It was exciting. And, you couldn’t deny the way the thought of him being worked up like this, and just a bit possessive, over you… your heart fluttered in your chest. So, you just smiled slyly, taking a step towards him.

“It seems like someone’s jealous,” you murmured.

“I’m not -”

“Yeah you are,” you said, now nearly face-to-face with him. “Does it piss you off? The idea of me and Eddie? Do you think about him… touching me? Me screaming his name? You must’ve thought about it, right?”

You noted how his hands were clenched into fists at his side, and you smirked. You were close enough that your noses were nearly brushing, and you could practically feel the heat radiating off of him.

“I don’t get jealous,” he whispered. “I don’t do that.”

“Prove it,” you said.

Then, he was on you, crashing his lips into yours. He was desperate, greedy, taking your face in his hands as he kissed you like it was the last thing you’d ever do. It was a blur after that - stumbling into his bedroom, shedding clothing on the way. He held your shoulders, keeping you in place just where he wanted you, practically manhandling you as he posed you towards the mattress. You had to do everything you could to suppress your grin - a lot of the time, you were in control, Steve moldable like clay in your hands. But this side of him… it was thrilling.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” he practically growled, hovering over you. “You’re going to do everything I say. You’re going to lie there, and when I’m done, you’re going to cum three times, at least, got it? Just so you don’t go thinking anyone else can do this for you, baby - just me. Got it?”

Your stomach flipped, and you nodded. His eyes were dark, and part of you wondered where this version of Steve had been hiding this whole time. Maybe you needed to piss him off more often.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Yes what?”

“Yes… yes, daddy.”

That was enough to get him going. He practically pounced, kissing you fast and hard, and perhaps a little messily. He worked his way down your body, practically tearing off your bra like it was some horrid contraption meant to keep you from him. Your back arched as he took one breast in his mouth, the other in his hand, massaging it and flicking over your hardened nipple. You gasped, threading your fingers in his hair.

“Could just touch these tits all day, baby,” he whispered into your skin. “Really could… but you want something else, don’t you.”

You bit your lip and nodded, watching as he pressed open-mouthed kisses into your skin, making his way down your navel, your hips, and then skipping where you wanted him, opting to ghost his lips over your inner thighs instead. You groaned in frustration, hips bucking as he continued to take his time.

“Patience, baby,” he breathed.

He brought his hand to your center, running his thumb along your slit until it was coated in your slick.

“Look at you, already so wet for me, and I’ve hardly touched you. Were you thinking about me, already worked up before you even got here?”

You pinched your brow, nodding as he brushed the pad of his thumb over your clit, a barely-there touch. You shivered, practically whining his name.

“What’s that, baby?” he asked sweetly.

“Fuck - touch me, for god’s sake -”

“I am touching you -”

“You know what I mean!”

“Not sure I do,” he said coyly, coating more of his fingers in your wetness, still avoiding where you wanted him most. You groaned, realizing you’d have to play into his game to get what you wanted.

“Fuck me with your fingers Steve, please -”

And he does, easily plunging two fingers into your cunt without a moment’s hesitation. You gasped, throwing your head back as his thumb found your clit. He rubbed deep, slow circles, pumping his fingers along your walls. Your hips involuntarily bucked as he brushed against that one spot inside of your, knowing your body by now like the back of his hand. You were already close, worked up far too quickly to the point that it was embarrassing.

“Fuck, you’re already squeezin’ me, baby. Are you close? That’s so fast, princess. You’re such a good girl, fucking yourself on my fingers. Can you scream my name while you cum? Are you able to do that?”

Instead of answering, you fisted the sheets, hips moving with his hand as you chased your high. It hit you out of nowhere, the heat pooling between your thighs and spreading through you, blissful and rapid.

“Fuck, Steve - fuck, I’m coming, shit, Steve, it’s so good -”

He just hummed approvingly, pulling his fingers out of you. You huffed in frustration, still mid-orgasm, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“What the -”

Then the words caught in your throat, because he dove in, pressing his tongue against your still-sensitive clit. You were still coming down from your high, and he hardly gave you a moment to breathe. He worked you through the rest of your orgasm with his tongue. But, he didn’t stop. He continued, lapping at your pussy while you twitched and convulsed. You were too sensitive, tears stinging your eyes at the overstimulation.

“Oh, fuck - oh my God, Steve -”

You reached down to where he was settled between your legs, gripping his hair. You tugged perhaps a bit too hard, and he just groaned in response. He groans as you tug on the brunette strands, arching your back with the movements of his tongue. You planted your feet into the mattress, moaning as his tongue circled your clit.

You weren’t even sure if you had ever stopped coming, the reprieve from your orgasm moments ago practically nonexistent. Your legs were shaking, and you were screaming, maybe the loudest you ever had in bed. The words were tumbling out of your mouth, because it was too much, it was everything, your mind going numb.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck - Steve, god, just like that - it’s so good, it’s too much, I’m gonna cum again - oh fuck -I”

It took one more circle of his tongue over your clit, and you were done for - your back arched enough that your head came off the pillow,his name on your lips as you screamed, tugging harshly on his hair as you saw stars behind your eyelids.

He continued to work you through your orgasm, hands placed firmly on your hips as he licked lazily at your folds, pressing deep thumbprints into your skin that you knew would leave bruises.

You felt tears running down your cheeks, your entire lower body still shaking as he brought his face back up to yours. His mouth and chin were glossy, his grin devil-like.

“What a good girl,” he whispered. “Was that good?”

“Mm,” you murmured, hardly able to find the words. “So good, thank you.”

“Can you do another?” he asked, dropping the mask for a moment - you considered for a moment. You reached down and ran a finger over your clit, wet and puffy, wincing slightly at the stimulation. But you just bit your lip as you looked up at him.

“I promised you three, sir,” you breathed. “I’m gonna cum three times, just like you asked.”

His eyes darkened, and he grinned wickedly.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“How do you want me?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows. He thought for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder.

“Up against the glass,” he said, voice low and rough.

You followed his gaze to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the whole city. Your eyes widened, your heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Yeah?” you asked sweetly. “You gonna fuck me so everyone can see?”

“The whole fuckin’ city, baby.”

You were on your feet in an instant, bounding over to the window. You pressed your back against it, the cool glass seeping into your skin as he stalked towards you, unbuckling his belt. He was practically fully dressed still, in stark contrast to how you stood bare before him. You realized then and there that he intended to keep it that way - he was going to fuck you fully clothed, still in his suit from dinner.

“Turn around,” he said.

Oh.

You nodded, doing as he said. You felt him behind you, his breath against your ear.

“You’re fuckin’ dripping - got you nice and ready for me.”

“Anything for you, sir,” you whispered, casting a glance at him over your shoulder. “Do your worst.”

And he did. Without warning, he entered you from behind in one rough push, making your gasp and mewl around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips snapping against your ass. “That’s it, baby - you can take it, can’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “fuck me, please -”

And he did, pounding into you hard and fast. You cried out, palms pushed against the window. Your breasts brushed the cool glass, and he picked up the pace. You squeezed around his cock for good measure, knowing that you were practically soaking it. He pressed his face into your shoulder, lips against your skin.

“So good for me, baby - letting me fuck you, after all that? Who else makes you feel this good?”

“Nobody?” you sighed.

“What was that?”

“Nobody. Just you.”

“Damn right,” he said, voice cracking. “This pussy is mine - I can’t wait to cum in it, what a good girl - my princess, my baby, so good for me. Can you cum again? Can you do that?”

You nodded weakly, following his movements as you threw your ass against his hips. He had never taken you from behind before, and the new angle was enough to nearly send you over the edge. There was something so primal about it, so thrilling - the image of him thrusting into you from behind, your naked form pressed against the glass. Rome sprawled before you, and though you were too high for anyone to actually see you, part of you liked to imagine that they could, any passerby on the street able to see Steve Harrington fucking your brains out.

“You should see yourself, all fucked out on my cock like this - are you close again? Are you gonna cum?” he breathed, skin slapping against yours. You reached down, rubbing fast circles on your clit to help get you to your peak.

“Yes, oh god, yes - fuck, Steve - daddy - fill me up, please, harder. Fuck your little girl, let everyone see, please -”

And that was it for him. He let out a guttural groan, his spend filling you up as he came. He thrust into you a few more times, and you clenched around him as you followed, coming with a cry. You threw your head over his shoulder, shaking and clenching on his cock as you came for the third time that night. It was white-hot, devastating, the scream you let out feeling like it was ripped form your fucking soul. You had had a lot of orgasms with Steve, him drawing feelings out of you in bed that you had never had before. But this - there had never been anything like it.

As you both stood there in silence, his cock still buried in you while you breathed heavily in unison, you knew two things for certain: first, you needed to get Steve jealous far more often. And second - he had completely, utterly, ruined you for anyone else. You tried your best to ignore the terror that set in with that thought, and kissed his shoulder instead, holding onto the bliss for as long as you could.

author's note: I know the wait was long for this, so thanks for sticking around! It's also barely proofread, so if there's mistakes... just act like you didn't see them. As always, shoutout to Em for fueling the fic, and getting me to actually write. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

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katyswrites · 7 months

Text

don't call me 'baby' - epilogue

EPILOGUE | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, references to smut, fluff (tooth-rotting fluff), mentions of food, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 1.3k

EPILOGUE | long story short

Four years later.

You blink awake groggily, the bright morning light inescapable. It takes you a moment to remember where you are, the way it often does in those first few seconds of waking up - then, you remember. The sound of ocean waves, the smell of salt air, and the feeling of a solid warmth by your side is enough to remind you. You sigh dreamily, backing up closer against Steve. He stirs, still half-asleep, his arm slinging around your waist to pull you against him.

“Morning,” you whisper.

“Mmph,” he grumbles, clearly not ready to join you in being awake.

You twist in his arms until you’re facing him. His eyelids are fluttering, breathing steady - he still looks so young like this, so peaceful. You would stare at him sleeping all day, if he let you. The bright morning sun dances across his skin, illuminating his freckles and moles, the shape of his brow and nose, and the slight stubble he’s developing after a day of skipping shaving. You sigh, reaching up to gently trace his features, your fingers only brushing along his skin ever-so lightly. He stirs again, nuzzling into your touch. You giggle softly, leaning over to kiss any part of him you could reach - his forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks - and, the moles along his jawline and neck, your favorite. It’s mornings like this that you love the most.

“What’re you doing,” he asks groggily.

“Waking you up,” you whisper, brushing your nose against his. “Want me to stop?”

“No. But, I preferred how you woke me up yesterday,” he murmurs, grinning. You blush at the memory, remembering how he regained consciousness to the feeling of your lips around his cock about 24 hours ago.

“I’m sure you did - I promise, there’s plenty where that came from.”

He chuckles, turning under the sheets to get a better look at you.

“This is actually my favorite thing,” he says softly.

“What is?”

“Waking up next to you.”

Even after all of these years, you feel as if your heart is about to burst, your love for the man beside you impossible to contain.

“Well, good thing you’ll be waking up next to me forever,” you whisper.

“Mm…did you sleep well, Mrs. Harrington?”

You nod, scooching closer until you’re nose-to-nose again.

“And you?”

“You know me… I always sleep better when you’re here.”

“Mm.”

You both lay in a peaceful silence for a while, enjoying a lazy morning

You yawn. “What time is it, anyways?”

“Not sure - does it matter?”

You shrug. “No - not really. Maybe we can take the boat out again today, at some point - I think that’d be fun.”

“Mm. Also, we do have a dinner reservation at that rooftop place you like tonight.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm hm. Turns out that tonight is when we’re gonna be able to see your star from here - I thought it’d be nice to look at it where I first gave it to you, you know?”

It still amazes you, how easily his thoughtfulness comes to him.

“Have you finally figured out where it is?” you tease.

“I know where it is -”

“Baby, every time you point it out, it’s a completely different star -”

“Looks like I’ll just have to buy you the whole sky, so everything is named after you - d’you think they’ll let me do that?”

You giggle.

“I think, like, NASA would take issue with that.”

“It’s worth the risk, I think,” he jokes.

When the subject of planning your honeymoon had come up, you and Steve had looked at destinations all around the world - the smarter thing to do would probably go somewhere new, a place neither of you had been before. But, that idea only lasted about five minutes before you both had admitted where you really wanted to go.

Ischia Island was the only option, really - where else would you go, besides the place where you had fallen in love? He even found the same villa to rent - he had initially suggested a resort stay instead, which you refused. This is what feels right - knowing Steve, he was close to just buying the place if it would make you happy.

You stretch under the covers, groaning. Your diamond ring catches the sunlight and glistens - and, you can’t help but smile at the sight of it. You aren’t sure you’ll ever get completely used to the sight of it - or, the idea of being married to Steve at all.

The wedding had been a massive affair, a destination event in Naples with all of your close friends and family. Robin was your maid of honor, and cried during her whole speech, even when she told the embarrassing story of walking in on you. Eddie and his band performed, actually switching out their typical heavy metal fare for more wedding-friendly classics. The moment ingrained in your mind is when Steve saw you in your dress for the first time - you had opted for a “first look,” a private moment for the two of you to see each other dressed up for the first time, and take some photos before the ceremony. He practically crumbled when he saw you, pulling you into a suffocating hug - part of you had thought he quite literally would never let go. Somehow, he was still finding ways to surprise you.

You know that, after this honeymoon, you’d both return to Chicago, where you split time for half of the year. Then, you’d come back to Rome, where your second home is. It actually makes Steve’s job easier, this compromise - after expanding the company globally, he enlisted you to work with him, opening a nonprofit sector of HNL for underprivileged teens looking to study at foreign universities. For people like you had once been. In his words, we have more money than we need, and I think it’s about time we do something good. He has a passion for helping kids, you’ve learned. YOu both work hard, but for you, it’s easy, doing something you love with the person you love.

Steve’s hand finds yours under the covers, entwining your fingers and pulling it up so he can press a few kisses to your knuckles. The softness of the gesture makes you want to crumble, even after all this time. He takes a moment to examine your ring, silver to match his own wedding band. To most, the star of your finger is the sparkling diamond on the engagement ring - but, his eyes flit to the pearl on your wedding band instead, the one he had found on this very island years ago.

“Guess what,” he whispers.

“What?”

“I love you.”

You feel yourself smile, and bury your face into the pillow.

“I really hope that’s the case,” you laugh. “Ti amo tanto.”

I love you so much.

Then, the moment is ruined by the rumbling of your stomach.

“Breakfast?” you ask. He laughs.

“Yeah, okay - I’ll go make something. Want to have it on the balcony?”

You nod, biting your lip as you watch him walk away.

Once, Steve had told you he’d make sure you want for nothing - that, whatever you wanted, he’d give to you. That sentiment still seeps through pretty often - he loves nothing more than spoiling you. Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen he says.

But, laying here in this beautiful Italian villa, with the smell of eggs wafting in from where your husband is humming to himself in the kitchen - you have everything you want. And, as long as you’re with him, you always will.

****

author's note: that's it! Thanks for coming on this wild journey with me. This might not be the end of this universe's Steve and reader - perhaps some blurbs will be posted in the future, if there's interest. But, that's the end of their main story - I hope you enjoyed. I also hope you'll stick around for my upcoming projects. Thank you all for supporting this fic - I'd love to hear your thoughts! This is Katy, signing off (for now).

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katyswrites · 1 year

Text

don't call me 'baby'

PART 3 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, allusions to sex

Wordcount: 6.1k

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.”

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!

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katyswrites · 1 year

Text

don't call me 'baby'

PART 4 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), unprotected sex, praise kink, swearing, alcohol use, age gap

Wordcount: 5.3k

PART 4 | bought this dress so you could take it off

His eyes widened, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen anyone move as fast as he did to give the driver new instructions. As the car peeled away and turned towards the center of the city, you took a moment to gauge what the man beside you was thinking. He was fidgeting with his hands a bit, and as if feeling your gaze, he eventually settled to fold them in his lap and stare out the window. For the first time that night, you smugly realized what a power you had. He was nervous, and anxious, and from the way he was avoiding eye contact, completely out of his comfort zone.

Steve Harrington fascinated you. Now that certainly wasn’t a novel thought. You thought about the kindness he had shown you that first night, and how he somehow managed to seem real and down-to-earth when he shed his suit. Then, you think about the deal he had offered, and how he essentially offered you anything you wanted. You also remember how he had avoided the subject when you asked why he didn’t want to be in a relationship, how sometimes he had such a confident air about him, and how in other instances, he became this shy boy who didn’t even know what to do with his hands. Which was exactly the version of himself that you were seeing right now. You had to admit, the idea of having that effect on him secretly thrilled you.

The city of Rome passed you by, late-night commuters rushing along sidewalks, tourists perusing maps and pausing to take photos on their phones. All of these little snippets of people’s lives, completely unaware that nothing they could be doing could be as thrilling as what your life had become over the last few days. Your fingers ghosted over the necklace hanging around your throat, the phantom feeling of Steve’s fingers on the back of your neck burning.

When the car rolled to a stop, your jaw nearly dropped. You already knew where you were - The Palazzo, right near the city’s historic center. Luxury apartments - you passed by them all the time, sometimes lazily dreaming of being able to stay somewhere like this one day. You knew well enough that it was one of the most expensive places to live in the city, and that doesn’t necessarily surprise you. But the old, ornate building was already beautiful, and you hadn’t even stepped inside yet.

“You - you live here?” you asked, bewildered.

“Mm hm,” he said, opening the door. “It’s only temporary though, obviously.”

“Right,” you said, taking his extended hand as he helped you out onto the sidewalk.

You followed him to the entrance, where Steve nodded to a doorman who beckoned you inside, because of course his building has a goddamn doorman.

You stayed silent as you followed him, trying to keep your mouth from hanging open as your footsteps echoed along the marble floor of the lobby, taking in the glistening chandelier and Renaissance-era paintings that adorned the walls. It was already nicer than anywhere you had stayed in your life, and you hadn’t even actually seen his apartment yet. But, when he pressed the button in the elevator, you realized it was for the top floor.

He was staying in the goddamn penthouse.

The silence that had fallen between you two should have been awkward, and in some ways, it was. But your mind was reeling as you took everything in, and it was only now that it truly occurred to you how much money Steve probably had. Suddenly, the arrangement between the two of you didn’t seem so outlandish at all.

When he opened the door to the apartment and stepped aside to let you in, you took a sharp breath. As expected, it’s gorgeous inside. It’s sleek, modern, and massive. The kitchen and dining area alone was probably the size of the entire apartment that you and Robin shared.

The floors are lined with a pale gray hardwood, the place obviously pre-furnished with its perfectly placed furniture and decor. But, as you set your bag on the marble island in the kitchen, you realize where the true luxury is: the view.

The top floor was high enough that you could see the entire city, the roofs and warm light of buildings sprawling before you. The Tiber River was just in view, and even though you had been living here for several years, it was the first time that you realized just how beautiful Rome was.

As you took it all in, no doubt gawking, Steve stayed silent next to you, flicking on the lights.

“Have you been staying here all along?” you asked quietly.

“Yes,” he said. “Since February - I only signed on for six months though, since my business here is probably only until the end of the summer.”

“Right.”

You glanced around, and realized something - the place was spotless. Not that you had expected Steve to be messy, by any means. But, there was no sign that anyone actually lived here - not a coat slung over the chair, an errant coffee mug left out, not even a stain on the sleek countertops.

“Do you like living here?” you asked.

He paused for a moment, looking nearly startled by the question.

“Oh! Uh - I mean, I guess. I’m not here a lot, to be honest. I work late a lot, and I’m only staying here for a while, so… it’s nice, don’t get me wrong. But I mostly come home, go to bed, and shower in the morning… I’m mostly at work.”

“Oh,” you replied softly.

And that was when it really hit you: Steve Harrington was lonely.

He cleared his throat.

“So - can I get you anything to drink? Water, coffee, wine -”

“Wine,” you replied quickly. Suddenly, the liquid courage of alcohol felt like a necessity. “If you have it.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure thing - red? White? Bubbly?”

You shrugged.

“Anything is fine.”

He nodded, turning and making his way to a wine rack sitting on the countertop. Unsure of what to do, you settled on one of the high stools along the island, resting your elbows on the cool countertop.

The entire situation suddenly felt surreal. Here you were, in Steve’s unbelievably gorgeous apartment. And the two of you were alone, and not in public, for the first time since you met. And, as your gaze settled on him opening a new bottle of wine, you once again thought about just how handsome Steve was. You thought maybe that would fade as you got used to seeing him, but it hadn’t yet. The thought of that, somehow, was terrifying.

By the time he handed you the glass of chianti, no doubt something stupidly expensive, and clinking his glass with your own, you were positively sweating. You felt your stomach lurching, and suddenly were twice as thankful that you didn’t end up eating a heavy dinner tonight. You met his eyes as you sipped your wine, and you noticed how he kept shifting on his feet, despite the way he feigned casualness as he leaned against the stove. It comforted you to know that, at the very least, he was a bit nervous, too.

You downed your drink perhaps a bit too quickly, taking big gulps like it was water. You already felt warm, your head just a bit fuzzy, and just as Steve was opening his mouth to say something, you straightened up in your chair.

“Where’s your bathroom?”

Your voice was just a bit shrill, getting caught in your throat from not speaking for the last few moments.

“Oh - down the hall, past the bedroom.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, stool scraping on the hardwood floor as you all but sprinted in the direction he was pointing.

Once the door was shut behind you, you pressed your palms on the sink and leaned into it, letting out a deep, shuddering breath. You stared at yourself in the mirror - your lipstick was slightly smudged from the wine, and you had foolishly left it in your bag on the counter. You smoothed and spread it around with your thumb, settling for good enough as you took another moment to collect yourself.

You stared at your reflection for a while, long enough that it felt like you had stepped outside of yourself and were instead looking at a stranger. A strange girl, wearing someone else’s dress, and a necklace that somehow didn’t seem right on her frame. You shut your eyes, and inhaled deeply. You thought about the man waiting outside. You thought about how he had looked at you when he first saw you tonight, and how he had looked like all of his Christmases had come together at once when you suggested going straight to his place. And, you thought about how it had felt to kiss him, and how all you wanted was to do that again.

When your eyes flew open again, you felt like yourself - no, not exactly. You felt like a version of yourself who was more confident, a little more brave, and who, while looking at herself in the mirror, understood why the man outside wanted to give you the world just for the chance to touch you.

It was that thought that had you pushing yourself off of the marble counter and out of the bathroom. You pushed your shoulders back and held your head a little higher as you turned the corner to the kitchen, trying your best to sway a bit as you moved. He looked up as you approached, straightening up and placing his glass down.

“Hey,” Steve said, “is everything alri-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his question, because you started kissing him, fast and fierce.

His breath hitched and he froze for a second, but the moment your hand found its way to the back of his neck and pulled him closer, he relaxed and leaned into you. The kiss outside the bar had been slow, sweet, and perhaps a bit sloppy. The kiss in the car was pretty chaste. But this -

It was gnashing teeth and tongues, his hands coming up to cup your face as he kissed you with more ferocity, matching your energy. You sighed into his mouth, backing up until your back hit the counter.

And that was when Steve’s hands started to wander.

His hand moved from your face and down to the small of your back, wrapping around you and pulling you impossibly closer to him. His lips wandered too, moving along your jaw and to your neck, earning a gasp from you. Encouraged, he trailed his lips upwards to the soft, sensitive spot right behind your earlobe.

You let out a moan then, throwing your head back to give him better access as he sucked at your skin.

“You like that?” he murmured into your neck, nose and lips pressed to your skin as you threaded your fingers in his hair.

“Yeah,” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut as he peppered more kisses along any exposed skin he could find. “I do. But -”

You gripped his hair a little harder, pulling his head back so he could stop and look back down at you.

“- I think there’s something else I’d like more.”

His eyes widened, and it took everything in you not to smile smugly. There was something intoxicating about this, something that made you feel a little bold. Yes, he was older, held the bank account, worked as a higher-up in some company that ruled the corporate world. In his life, Steve had people at his beck and call. But here, right now, you had this power over him in a way that nobody else did. The thought alone was enough to make you giddy.

“Where’s your bedroom, again?” you asked coyly, voice soft and low.

That was what had him taking you by the hand and down the hall, past the bathroom where you gave yourself the pep talk a few moments ago, and practically slamming the door behind you.

You didn’t even have time to take in the dim room, only illuminated by the city lights through the massive glass wall to your left. No, because the moment you were in the room, he was on you again, grabbing your face and kissing you like his life depended on it.

But you only let it last a few moments pulling back abruptly. He just stared at you, a bit dumbfounded, searching your face for something.

Then, you reached out and pressed your hand to his chest, gently pushing against him until he got the message and was backing up. When the back of his legs hit the mattress, he stumbled back and onto the bed. The weight of the mattress bounced beneath him, and he was staring up at you like you were made of stars.

“Hey,” he whispered, “you don’t have to -”

But you leaned down and started kissing him again, his words dying on your lips.

“Shut up, Harrington,” you breathed, forehead pressed to his. “I need to thank you for my necklace, after all. It really is beautiful.”

You began running your hand up and down his thigh as you spoke, and he shuddered in response. Then, before he could say anything else, you were dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Are you sure -”

“Steve? I’m doing this because I want to,” you assured him, reaching up to undo his belt buckle. “And, yes, I’m sure. Because, I’ve basically been thinking about this every night since I met you. So, can you do me a favor, and shut up?”

You didn’t know where it came from, this confidence, but something within you made it easy to talk to him like this. Maybe it was the way his breath hitched as you touched him, and how drunk you felt from having that effect on him.

You fumbled with the button of his fly, trying your best to not let your fingers shake as you slid the zipper down. He gulped as you shimmied his pants down his legs to his ankles. Wasting no time, you splayed your hand across his boxers, palming the sizeable bulge there. He hissed as you touched him, and you sucked in a breath when you felt him twitch under the material, hot and hard and thick.

He shivered at your touch, and groaned when you finally dragged the band of his underwear down. His cock sprung free, and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of it. He was big, bigger than you had anticipated. The weight of it slapped up against his stomach, the tip hard and already leaking. But, you recovered quickly, and decided to use this to your advantage.

“Oh, no,” you whispered.

“What?” he breathed.

“Well, Harrington, I simply don’t know how this is going to fit,” you said playfully.

He groaned again, murmuring, “You’re going to kill me, woman.”

You smirked, then bit your lip.

“You know, d’you mind if I get a little more comfortable?”

His Adam's apple bobbed, and he shook his head quickly.

“Please - Christ, do whatever you want.”

You smiled, and slowly stood up, turning until your back was facing him.

“Do you mind?” you asked innocently.

You heard him rustling as he moved behind you, and getting the message, his fingers found the zipper at the back of your dress, fingers fumbling for a moment until he finally got a grasp and slid it down, ever so slowly.

You cast a glance at him over your shoulder, his eyes staring back at you, glassy and wide.

“Thanks,” you whispered, shouldering the dress off and letting it fall to the ground, stepping out of it. You slowly lowered yourself back down to your knees in front of him, feeling a surge of pride as his eyes raked up and down your form. You had planned for tonight, wearing a new bra and panty set, all thanks to -

“I bought these at your expense,” you whispered, gesturing to the little clothing you had left. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“God, no,” he breathed. “Please tell me you bought out the whole store.”

You giggled, returning your attention to his cock, hard and heavy right in front of you.

“Let me take care of you, now,” you murmured. “I wanna make you feel good - can I make you feel good?”

He nodded, spreading his legs just a little further to let you get situated between them.

He made what might be the prettiest noise you’ve ever heard as you wrapped your hand around him. He swore, his cock thick and warm in your palm. You began pumping him slowly, pride surging in your chest and he hissed and groaned, jaw clenched as you did.

You smoothed your thumb over his tip, spreading the slick there and letting it coat your fingers as you continued to pump him. He was already a mess, eyes glassy as he stared down at you, practically whining. He was like putty in your hand - it was thrilling.

“Fuck,” he moaned, bracing his elbows against the mattress. “I - Christ - I’m sorry, it’s just - it’s been so long since -”

“Since what?” you asked, feigning as much innocence as you were capable of while holding his dick in your hand.

“Since - since anyone’s touched me like this, shit.”

“Is that so?” you asked. “Well - then I’m guessing it’s been a while since someone did this too, yeah?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you lowered down and wrapped your lips around his tip. He groaned, deep and dirty. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you killed him.

You went to work, licking a long stripe along his shaft before returning to the head, lazily licking and sucking. He was too damn big for you to take him completely, you knew that - so instead, you took him as deep as you could, continuing to wrap your hand around the base, jerking him off slowly.

“Christ,” he whispered, a guttural groan leaving his lips. “That’s it, sweetheart - just like that, baby.”

You felt warmth spread throughout your body at the praise, encouraged to take him just a little bit deeper. You hummed in response, the vibration of it sending him into a frenzy. He threw his head back, unable to contain it anymore. You allowed yourself to glance up for a moment through your lashes, and the man looked like he was living in pure ecstasy.

After only a few minutes, you felt a hand on the back of your head, and heard him desperately whisper, “Baby - wait.”

You stopped, pulling your mouth off of him and looking up.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, feeling bold enough to bite your lip as you did.

“Jesus, no. But -” he hesitated for a moment, and you could tell he was gathering himself.

“I’m so close, it’s embarrassing. And, I really want to fuck you, if you’ll let me.”

You felt your stomach flip, and smiled.

“Yeah - do whatever you want to me, Harrington.”

“Oh - fucking hell, baby.”

He pushed himself further up the bed, and you followed, hovering over him.

“I only ask one thing,” you murmured, lips pressed to his ear.

“Yeah?”

“Get rid of all this,” you said, gesturing to his top half, still fully dressed.

You’d never seen someone moved faster, Steve reaching to hastily undo his tie. He looked ready to tear his shirt off, but you opted to not let that happen by helping him unbutton it.

As soon as he was bare beneath you, you lowered yourself over him and pressed your lips to his. You kissed him slowly, lazily. His arms wrapped around you and you felt his fingers tracing down between your shoulder blades, halting when they reached the band of your bra. He unhooked it easily, a little too easily, and you let the straps fall down and off of you. You lowered yourself further into him then, pressing your bare breasts to his chest.

“C’mon,” he whispered, “Let me see you, baby.”

You obliged, sitting up as you straddled him. He sighed at the sight of you, reaching up and immediately cupping your tits in his hands. You arched your back and pressed into his palms, throwing your head back. He ran a thumb over each nipple, and you sighed breathily as they pebbled under his touch.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured, almost as if he didn’t mean for you to hear him. You rolled your hips against his in response, and his breath hitched in his throat.

“Fuck.”

“How d’you want me?” you asked sweetly.

“Any way you’ll let me,” he breathed, groaning as you brushed your clothed core over his cock.

“Is that so?” you asked, feeling just a bit cheeky. “You want me to ride you? Hm?”

He just moaned in response, pupils blown wide as he stared up at you.

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ dream.”

Your heart fluttered at the praise, and you lifted yourself up on your knees, just enough to tug your panties off and shimmy them down your legs.

You moved to hover over him again, but he wrapped his hand around your wrist, firmly enough to stop you.

“Wait,” he said. “Can you - lean back, a little.”

He sat up as he coaxed you until you were sitting too, sitting in his lap as your legs spread a little wider to accommodate him.

“Lean back, spread ‘em a little wider for me, baby.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you -”

“I just - I want to touch you. If you’ll let me, just - please?”

You could have thrown your head back and laughed, but your chest suddenly ached, at the idea that he actually wanted to do this, even though you knew what he really wanted.

“You don’t have to -”

“You should feel good too,” he said, cutting you off. “At least a little bit, yeah?”

You nodded, leaning back a bit and spreading yourself for him, your hands finding purchase on his thighs as you pressed your feet into the mattress.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he cooed. “Look at you, all spread out for me. Fuckin’ perfect.”

You felt your cheek heat, and didn’t even have time to think about responding before he reached between you, sliding one finger through your folds.

You sighed, eyes fluttering closed. He coated his fingers in your slick, and after a few moments, let one slip inside your entrance. You cried out as he did. Head falling forward into his chest.

“Jesus, look at that - you’re so fucking wet. You feel too good - did you get this wet just from sucking me off?”

You breathed the sound of an affirmation into his skin, and he chuckled.

“You dirty, dirty girl,” he murmured. “So wet, so soft -”

You moaned as he added a second finger, fluttering at the stretch. He shushed you soothingly, slowly pumping his fingers and stretching you out. Once his thumb joined the mix and found your clit, you started to lose control, bucking into his hand as you threw your head back.

“You like that?” he asked, not for the first time that night.

“Yes,” you breathed, moaning as he rubbed circles on your clit. “Just like that - ah! Fuck, that’s good - just keep touching me -”

Encouraged, he began to pump a bit faster. You moved with him, rolling in rhythm as he fucked you with his fingers. He began talking, then, babbling sweet nonsense - how beautiful you looked, how he loved the noises you were making, how much he had thought about this -

“Steve! Fuck! I - Oh, just like that - please, I -”

“Yeah?” he asked. “What do you want?”

“You,” you uttered, gasping as his fingers curled against that one sweet spot inside you. “I - fuck, I want your cock, I need it -”

“You sure?” he asked smugly. “You said yourself, you didn’t think it’d fit -”

“I will,” you said, determined. “Just for you, I will… sir.”

That word made his fingers cease, much to your chagrin. As you let your eyes flutter open, you realized he was practically short-circuiting, staring at you like you were a dream.

“Jesus Christ,” he said softly. You let out a small laugh, gently pushing on his chest until he fell back, bouncing against the mattress. You crawled up until you were right over him, staring down at Steve. His eyes were wide, chest heaving.

“Fuck,” he said. “I’ve got to grab a condom -”

“You could,” you purred. “Or - I’m on birth control. And I don’t have anything, I swear.”

He looked like you had punched him.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah - I mean, if you want -”

“Fuck, yes -” he said, groaning as you brushed your wet slit over the tip of his cock. “You really are gonna kill me.”

You grinned.

“Let’s hope not.”

Without another word, his hands found your hips, moving with you until you were lowering yourself on his dick, slowly enveloping him inch-by-inch.

The stretch wasn’t easy - it had been a while for you, and he really was big. He hissed as you wrapped around him, head falling back against the pillow.

“Oh fuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK,” you moaned, gasping at the stretch.

“Oh my god,” he groaned. “You feel so fuckin good.”

“And you’re huge,” you admitted. “I - I really don’t know if it’s going to fit.”

You knew he would - maybe a bit of a stretch, but nothing impossible. But, what you really wanted was to get him going - no, to ruin him. And it was working. He made a desperate, primal noise, totally blissed out as you finally fully sank down on him. Once he was fully bottomed out, you stilled for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of being so full. And Steve, it seemed, was on the same page.

“Oh god - okay, you’ve got to give me a second here. I’m sorry, but I’m gonna lose it, and I don’t want this to end before it starts - I’m sorry, you feel too good -”

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I need a minute, too - there’s a lot of you.”

A small smile formed on his lips at that. The only sound for a few moments was both of your deep, heavy breathing, chests heaving until they were almost in unison.

“Can I move?” you asked. “Please - I want you to lose it. I want to make you feel so good, to thank you for taking such good care of me -”

“Jesus, yes, do whatever you want,” he gasped.

That was enough for you. You rolled your hips over his experimentally, and he let out a deep, guttural groan. You clenched around him, just for good measure, and he made a sound that made you think he’d gone to heaven.

You began to move more, finding a rhythm as you rode him. Steve stared up at you, his usually-perfect hair mussed from where your hands had been, his brows pinched in pleasure. He began to move his hips to meet yours, thrusting up into you as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips.

One thing you were starting to figure out about Steve - he was talkative in bed. A motormouth, actually. And, as it turned out, so were you, in a way you hadn’t been with other partners.

“Fuck,” he breathed, babbling as you moved. “Look at you - so fuckin’ pretty, you’re taking me so well. You said I wouldn’t fit, but you made sure I did. Isn’t that right, sweetheart? Shit, it’s like this pussy was made for me - fuck -”

“You feel so good, filling me up - ah, shit - touch me, please -”

He obliged, hand snaking down to where you met, fumbling for a moment before finding the bundle of nerves at your core. He began circling your clit with his thumb, earning sweet, soft moans from you.

“Fuck, just like that,” you whined. The necklace he had given you was still on, the pendant gently bouncing against your sternum as you rode him.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “So fuckin’ pretty, wearing the necklace I gave you - this is what I pictured, you know that? When I gave it to you - fuck, ohmygod - when I put it on you, I wanted to just tear everything else off of you -”

“Even my pretty dress you bought me?” you asked, finding the strength to still toy with him, even as his cock thrusting into you was driving you nuts.

“Especially that dress,” he groaned, eyes darkening.

You lifted yourself almost completely off of him before slamming down, and he cried out. His thrusts were growing more sloppy, both of you moving faster. You felt a familiar hook start to put in your belly, and you rolled deeper, taking as much of him as you could. He continued to touch you, one hand working on your clit as the other kneaded the flesh of your ass.

“I’m fuckin’ close,” he moaned, shifting to sit up. The new angle let him thrust deeper into you, hitting that perfect spot within. Your walls fluttered around him, and you buried your head in his shoulder.

“Let go,” you whispered into his skin, pressing a few kisses there. “I want you to - please, come inside me. I want you to come… sir.”

That was it for him. His cock twitched, and he was spilling into you. The sudden warmth and deep cry of your name was enough for you, too. You screamed as you came, pulsing around him as he gave a few last thrusts into you, filling your pussy until it was dripping onto the base of his cock.

While you were still riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm, his hand came up to find your face, pulling it from where you were buried in his neck until you were looking at him. He kissed you, slow and deep, your legs still shaking as he stayed buried inside you.

You both stayed like that for a few moments, until he started to soften inside you. You pulled off of him, hissing as you lost the feeling of his length filling you, clambering off of him and flopping onto the mattress. You stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving. He pressed a quick kiss to your shoulder and rolled off the bed, returning a few moments later with a washcloth.

You accepted it thankfully, reaching down to your cunt. But you were still a bit too sensitive, hissing as you tried to clean the situation, and decided to just leave it. That was when it set in - it was possible that you had just struck the jackpot with Steve Harrington.

Fuck.

Before you could dwell on it any further, you felt a deep grumble in your abdomen. That was when you turned to face Steve, his hair messy and cheeks flushed as he pressed into the pillows.

“Hey - Steve?”

“Mm?”

“While I’m beyond glad we skipped dinner… it might be coming back to bite me in the ass now.”

He laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“I can call something for takeout, if you want.”

He rolled out of bed and headed to the kitchen, presumably to get a menu from somewhere. As you watched him leave, feeling strangely vulnerable about the intimate act of watching him walk naked around his apartment, you fell back onto your back.

As you stared up at the ceiling, you pressed you palm to your forehead, shaking your head in disbelief.

Yeah, you thought. This arrangement is going to work out just fine.

Author's note: thank you guys for all the love on this series! I'm doing my best to not take too long between updates, but please keep in mind that I have two jobs, I'm working on other ongoing ao3 fics, and have an inbox full of requests that I've been neglecting. Plus, it's ski season, so I'm away a lot on the weekends. But, your thoughts and feedback are always appreciated - I love reading your replies, messages, and tags! And, as always, shoutout to my friend Em for fueling my fantasies for this AU.

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katyswrites · 1 year

Text

don't call me 'baby'

PART 2 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, references to vomit/drinking too much, age gap

Wordcount: 4.4k

PART 2 | is it chill that you're in my head?

The next few weeks passed in a blur. With the semester officially wrapped, you threw yourself into working - early morning shifts at the coffee shop, then weekend nights Enoteca Bruni, slinging cocktails and lighting cigars, smiling prettily for high-end customers and their massive wallets. Fridays were the worst - working a double, swapping out your apron for a cocktail dress as you went from one job to the other, often fixing your hair and doing your makeup on the bus ride in between.

It had been a bit of a culture shock, moving out to Rome. You had never envisioned moving abroad, but the offer had come from AUR with a great scholarship; it involved getting the Hell out of your parents’ house, working towards a degree, and starting a new life in Rome. Not knowing the language had been the hardest - you had spent nearly your entire first year enrolled in Italian classes, taking time to read newspapers, watch local television, and do everything you could to immerse yourself in the language. It wasn’t second-nature, exactly, but you found yourself switching from English to Italian easily now, thankfully. It was probably what landed you the job at Enoteca - they usually only took people with more restaurant experience (or the prettiest, you would later realize). But, an American girl, who spoke fluent Italian? It had made you invaluable, considering how many business executives and high-profile people from around the world dined there.

That was probably why the experience a few weeks ago hadn’t shaken you all too much; you had become used to groups like that, men who were used to getting what they wanted, whenever they wanted. Still, when you allowed your mind to wander, or you had a moment or two to rest, you found yourself thinking of Steve Harrington.

It was rarely on purpose - the vision of the man encroached on your mind when you least expected, sticking and seeping through your brain like syrup. You had felt guilty about the money, initially - while some kind (and usually American) customers tipped, it wasn’t common on this side of the world. And, moreover, it had been far more than what was anywhere near reasonable, no matter how expensive their bill ended up being. Was he hitting on you? That wouldn’t have been the first time - plenty of pushy, or downright pervy customers had insisted on tipping you, slipping you a phone number with the cash. But, he hadn’t done that - there wasn’t any contact information, not even a return address. And, he didn’t seem like that - he could’ve made more of a move on you that night in the car, if he really wanted. It was confusing, more than anything - no matter how you had tried to rationalize it, the generous gesture was simply bizarre. That was probably why you found yourself thinking of him on occasion - why else would you be?

It was the last weekend of May, when it happened. If you had been back in the States, you supposed it would’ve been a long holiday weekend, thanks to Memorial Day. But here, it was just another Friday night. And, a rare blessing - you actually had the night off. Well, you had arranged for the night off. It had been a terrible week, beyond exhausting. When you had come home, last night, Robin had taken one look at you, and shook her head.

“No,” she said firmly.

“Huh?” you asked, plopping down in a kitchen chair.

“You need to take a night off, you’re miserable,” she said, sitting herself across from you.

“I need to work,” you explained. “In case you forgot, we need to pay rent.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed. “But, you know… last I checked, a certain richy-rich business bro took care of that -”

“That cash is only gonna last so long, Robs.”

“Don’t you get it? That was his way of telling you to take a break - they love you at the restaurant. You never miss, just call out - and then we can go out tomorrow, and actually have fun, for once.”

You opened your mouth to protest, then stopped yourself - you carefully considered what your friend was proposing. The two of you rarely took time to have fun anymore - Robin once joked that you were both old ladies already, working all day and tucked in bed early most nights. You and her were often rolling coins for groceries, and you had treated yourselves to an actual sitdown dinner next week thanks to Steve’s money - it had felt extravagant, but nice.

Buy yourself something nice, Steve’s note had said.

“Yeah, okay,” you conceded. “Let’s go out tomorrow, yeah?”

That was how you found yourself out that night, stuffed into your favorite jeans and flashy top, face made-up and six drinks deep at some nightclub, one of Robin’s favorite haunts from college. The air was hazy, the music loud, and you found yourself letting go, as best as you could.

Robin made her way through the crowd to you, shots in-hand, despite your earlier protests.

“Robs - no -”

“C’mon, live a little!” she shouted. “And don’t worry, it’s not tequila - I know how you get with tequila.”

You rolled your eyes, toasting her as you downed the shot, the liquor burning your tongue and throat as it went down. Robin grinned, pressing herself close to you as she asked, “Are ya having fun?”

You nodded, smiling.

“Yeah, actually - I am,” you admitted. “But - I’ve got to get some air,” you said, pulling your pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and waving them.

Robin groaned.

“Those’ll kill you, you know,” she shouted as you headed for the door.

“We can only hope!” you sent back playfully over your shoulder.

You made your way through sweaty bodies and dodged the splashes of drinks, forcing your way out into the cooler night.

The summer was in its infancy, the evenings still cool enough to raise goosebumps on the skin, to remind you that spring wasn’t quite done yet. It was a welcome change, the bar inside nearly suffocating with the pure volume of people. And more importantly, outside, it’s quiet. Yes, it’s still a city, the din of cars and motorbikes combining with the sounds of music and laughter from bars and restaurants, the cacophony of nightlife still a relief from what you just came from inside.

A few other smokers hung around you, alone and in groups, chatting and flicking ash onto the pavement. You leaned against the brick wall of the building, sighing and inhaling deeply. You let the night air fill your lungs, your head a bit fuzzy from the alcohol coursing through you.

You fish a cigarette out of the carton, placing it between your lips before reaching into your pocket for a lighter - oh, no.

Your lighter was still in your purse. Because, you almost always have your purse, but because you were going out, you had just stuck some cash and your ID in the back of your phone, and left. Christ, you were out of practice. You slumped, and glanced around, only to realize a lot of people had headed back inside. You spotted a woman about ten feet away, exhaling smoke. You debated walking over and asking for a light - she probably wouldn’t have a problem with that, and she was probably done soon -

“Need a light?” a voice asked.

A godsend.

You turned to where it was coming from, and froze in place.

There he was, standing just a few feet from you. Steve wore a warm smirk and a fitted t-shirt and jeans, nearly unrecognizable from the man in the suit you had met a few weeks ago. His hair was still done immaculately, but he stood casually, hands shoved in his pockets as he leaned against the wall. In the dim streetlights, he could’ve been a stranger, just a boy on the sidewalk with a kind offer and a smile. Still, he wore nice loafers and a flashy watch, and though you didn’t know much about clothes, you imagine they cost more than most of your closet combined.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, unable to believe your luck. And, it doesn’t escape you, the irony of the reversed roles, of you being stuck for a light out in the night.

“If you’ve got one,” you replied, feigning a casual air.

“Well, I think I owe you the favor,” he said, reaching into his pocket until he produced a lighter. He held it up, and you leaned in close, letting him flick it on and light the cigarette until the end was a hot amber. You took a long drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs and exhaling, immediately relaxing.

You didn’t take your eyes off of the man next to you, still as boyishly handsome as you remembered. He was visibly more relaxed than the last time you saw him, and you couldn’t help but wonder… was he here alone?

“Thanks,” you said, pressing your foot into the wall to balance yourself.

“Of course,” he replied, pulling his own cigarette out and placing it in his mouth. Still hand-rolled, you noted.

“Not just for that,” you said, measuring your words carefully. “For… for the other thing, too.”

He didn’t respond, at first. He just stared straight ahead, blowing smoke out into the night air.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, kicking at the ground with his toe.

“No, I should - I mean, that was… it was really generous. And, you really shouldn’t have.”

He looked at you then, face soft as he smiled.

“Yes, I should’ve. Because I wanted to. Did you do what I asked?”

You paused, confused. “What?”

“Did you buy yourself something nice?”

You suddenly felt your face heat, and it took you a moment to find the words.

“I - well, sort of. I mean, to be honest, I used a lot of it to pay this month’s rent. But…I took my roommate out to a nice dinner. And, there’s still a bit left, so I guess we’re using it now, for drinks and stuff tonight.”

He perked up at that, and smiled a little wider.

“Good,” he said. “I mean, I’m glad you were able to treat yourself.”

“It let me take the night off, for once,” you admitted.

“How many nights do you work there?” he asked curiously.

“Well, only four - Thursday through Sunday. But, I work 5 days a week at a coffee shop - you know Caffè Tazza, on Via Pave?”

He furrowed his brow, then nodded slowly.

“I think I’ve passed it on my way to work, yeah - not sure I’ve ever gone in.”

“Yeah, well, I work there. Enteco is just a side gig - it pays better. Well, slightly.”

You stopped yourself, then, suddenly feeling small - it hadn’t escaped you that the money Steve had sent you was probably a drop in the bucket, a negligible amount for him. You couldn’t even imagine what his bank account looked like, but from what little you knew about him, you knew it would probably make you fall to your knees.

“But, it doesn’t matter - I needed a break, I don’t go out much, so here I am.”

He just nodded again, taking another drag.

“Are you here with anyone?” he asked.

You nodded, glancing at the door behind you.

“Yeah - my roommate, Robin… you?”

You asked it carefully, glancing at him briefly. He turned to look at you again, and you could tell he was fighting a smile.

“No,” he said. “I’m here alone.”

You don’t know what it was - it was probably a mix of the alcohol, a long week, the buzz of the late night air, or the fact that both of you had subconsciously inched yourselves closer to each other during the last few minutes - you could feel the heat radiating off of him, hear his shallow breaths. But, you felt bold, bolder than usual.

“Did you plan on keeping it that way?” you asked quietly.

His eyes widened, and you saw him visibly freeze at your words.

“Not necessarily,” he admitted, voice soft and low.

Then, you pushed yourself up on your toes, and pulled him by the collar of his t-shirt, bringing his lips down to yours.

He tensed for a moment under your touch, then relaxed, leaning into the kiss. His lips moved with yours, softer than you had imagined. He tasted like cigarettes and scotch, and smells like cologne, the good kind. Your cigarette fell from your fingers and somewhere into the pavement, freeing your hand to snake up and press gently at the nape of his neck.

It was a bit messy, and not too sophisticated - if you had to guess, he was probably a bit drunk too, though maybe not as much as you. But you were kissing Steve Harrington, a man who was still practically a stranger, and he was kissing you back. And God, he was a good kisser. He pulled you closer, pressing his hands to the small of your back as you breathed into his mouth. And, for just a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the whole city.

Perhaps it was a few seconds or an hour - most likely, it was somewhere in between. But eventually, you both pulled away for air, chests heaving, hearts racing.

He was looking at you through the dim streetlight, eyes wide. There was something there in his face - surprise, yes, but something else too… fondness? Excitement?

“I,” you started, “um -”

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling under his breath.

A moment passed, and suddenly, there was an air of awkwardness that settled between you both. Did you misread that? Did he want you to kiss him? Well, he had kissed you back… but would he do it again?

He opened his mouth and took a step toward you to say something, but then you heard a familiar voice come from behind you, calling your name. You turn around, confused.

“I - Robin?”

Your friend stumbled out of the bar’s entrance, hand pressed to her forehead.

“Hey - I… I think I drank too much,” she slurred, making her way toward you.

“You don’t say?” you laughed, reaching out for her outstretched hand. She took it, face screwed up in pain as she squinted in the light illuminating the sidewalk.

“I think - hey, whose this?” she asked, standing up a bit straighter with a renewed interest.

You glanced back at Steve, who had taken a few steps back, his hands shoved into his pockets. He offered a small smile.

“Oh, um - this is, uh -”

“I’m Steve,” he finished, meeting Robin’s eyes over your shoulder. “Nice to meet you.”

“Steve? Who -” then, her eyes widened, and a cheeky grin spread on her face.

“Oh - Steve. Like, Steve Steve?”

You felt your face heat, and pointedly ignored the way Steve’s eyes were burning into the back of your head.

“Um, yeah - it was totally random, but we ran into each other out here and… we were… catching up.”

“Right,” Robin said, looking at you knowingly. “Nice to meet ya,” she said, casting her eyes to where Steve stood behind you.

Steve nodded, fighting a grin as he looked at the pair of you.

“Um, Robin is my roommate,” you explained to him. “But, from the looks of it… it looks like we need to get home. I’ll call us a taxi, yeah?”

“Can’t,” Robin groaned, leaning into your side. “I’m gonna throw up in it.”

You sighed, pinching your temples.

“Yeah, okay, well - if you do that, it’ll be like, hundreds of Euros, so… maybe you’ve just gotta make yourself vomit first, get it out of the way -”

Robin groaned into your shoulder at the thought, and you sighed again. It was then that Steve spoke up.

“Well, I can call my car to take you ladies home… if you want.”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment again, casting your eyes between Steve and Robin, hesitant.

“Oh, no - we couldn’t possibly ask -”

“You didn’t ask,” Steve said simply. “I offered. I insist, actually - I want you two to get home safely.”

You felt Robin lean further into you, and thought for a moment about your options - the last thing you needed was to rack up a fee and piss off a taxi driver.

“Well - I don’t want her to vomit in your car, either -”

Steve shook his head, waving you off.

“Please - don’t worry about that. There’s a garbage can and bags in the back, so she can use that. But, worst-case, I can send it to be cleaned after. I promise, it’s fine.”

You met his eyes, and all you saw was sincerity - he was being genuine, from what you could tell. Right then, you decided to surrender.

“I - yeah, okay. That’d be really great, if you could.”

He nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket and making a quick phone call. You did your best to straighten Robin up, but she just clung to you, swaying on her feet. Great.

“My driver will be here in a few minutes,” Steve said. “So, no worries - I gave him your address for a stop on the way home.”

“You remember my address?”

He shrugged, and stared straight at the ground. If you didn’t know any better, you could swear he was blushing.

“Well - yes. I mean, I had to send you the letter not too long ago… write it out, all that.”

“Right,” you said, opting to stare out ahead at the street. A few passersby stumbled past you, in various stages of drunk and cheery, mopeds and cars speeding down the cobblestone streets.

“Thank you,” you added, just a bit more softly. “I - you really didn’t have to do this.”

You knew how this probably looked - two drunk girls, hardly adults, partying too hard and threatening to throw up in the street. You suddenly became self-conscious of your tight ripped jeans, your cropped top, the fact that you were probably just a bit too drunk and sweaty. You were an idiot for thinking he was flirting with you - he was just being nice.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “I was getting ready to go home soon, anyway. If you don’t mind me riding along, that is.”

You chuckled. “If I mind? It’s your car - of course you can come along -”

“Yeah, okay,” he said swiftly. “I just didn’t want to make you or your friend uncomfortable - Robin, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah - though, I don’t think she even knows where she is right now, so you’re in the clear.”

That earned a laugh from him - a real one. You hadn’t even thought it was that funny, but he acted as if it was the best joke he’d ever heard. You felt pride surge within you, and immediately pushed it down - that can’t happen, not right now.

The car arrived a few minutes later, and the drive home was mostly silent - Robin cradled a small garbage can, likely only meant for small debris like tissues, gum, water bottles - it only made your humiliation sink in further, feeling like a fool for even being in this situation. If Steve minded, he gave no indication - he sat up front with his driver, the same man from the other night. You sat in the back with Robin, keeping an eye on her in case the worst happened. By some miracle, it didn’t; she kept it down the whole ride, only occasionally groaning when the car went over a bump.

When you pulled up to your apartment, you felt a sense of deja vu - the same place, same time of night, with similar company. And, knowing how tonight went, it would probably be the last time.

After you had assured that Robin was out of the car and able to hold herself up on the sidewalk, you turned back to see that Steve had lowered the passenger window. He smiled as he looked up at you, and you once again realized just how handsome he really was. It was ridiculous, really.

“Um - thank you. Seriously - this was a huge help.”

“Of course,” he replied, leaning out of the window slightly. “Just make sure she’s okay, yeah?”

You glanced back at where Robin was sitting on your building’s doorstep, holding her head in her hands.

“I will - she’s going to be paying for it in the morning though.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he laughed, shaking his head.

You stood there for a moment, just looking at one another - the night was quieter here, just on the outskirts of the main part of the city. The silence was thick and heavy, and million unanswered questions between you two - perhaps they would never be answered.

“Right, well - I’m going to go in, I guess. I’ve got a shift tomorrow afternoon, anyways.”

“Yeah, okay - well, goodnight,” he said softly.

“Goodnight, Steve Harrington,” you whispered.

When you watched as the car peeled from the sidewalk and drove away, you couldn’t help but feel empty - you loved Robin to death, but she was going to pay for this, you decided. That thought really only lasted a moment - she didn’t actually do anything wrong, and she had taken care of you while you were drunk and stupid more times than you could count. Besides, it wasn’t like anything more was going to happen with Steve. You knew this for one reason - upon further examination, that look he had given you after the kiss… it wasn’t surprise, excitement, or any of the above. No - it was fear.

Still, that night, after Robin was put to bed with ibuprofen and a glass of water, you stared at your ceiling and thought of Steve. You thought of the way his voice sounded when it got low, the way he smelled when he was close enough, the way his lips tasted - and you didn’t sleep well at all, dwelling on what could have been.

*****

“Okay! Un caffè e due cappuccini!” you called out, placing the cups and saucers on the counter. The customers came up and grabbed them, knocking the coffees back and heading out, leaving a few coins behind. You were constantly on the move, Caffè Tazza beyond busy thanks to it being a Saturday. It had always fascinated you, how Italians took their coffee; your previous experience at Starbucks back in the States had proved nearly useless, considering that “to-go” coffee hardly existed here. Normally, you didn’t mind how fast-paced it was. But normally, you weren’t hungover.

You had been in far better shape than Robin this morning, who could hardly get out of bed. Initially, you had actually felt fine. But, after a few hours on your feet, a headache was setting in, and you had a feeling it was here to stay.

The line of customers was long enough that you hardly paid any mind to who was coming in, set of pouring coffee and steaming milk, taking used espresso cups to wash in the back. That was why you didn’t see him come in, or hear him place his order at the register. No, it wasn’t until you were putting the small cup of espresso on the counter that you saw him, face-to-face.

“I - Steve?” you cried, startled.

You thought maybe it was a dream, and you were actually still in the middle of your fitful sleep from last night. But he was there, clear as day, sporting a white button-up with sunglasses pushed on top of his head.

“Hey there,” he said, flashing a smile.

“What - what’re you doing here?”

He glanced briefly around the coffee shop, shrugging.

“You know - I was in the neighborhood.”

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“You were in the neighborhood?”

He just took the coffee off of the counter and knocked it back, grinning as he returned the empty cup. You tried not to look at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, or the freckles dotting his neck, but it was nearly impossible, given how close he was, how he -

“You caught me,” he admitted. “You told me last night how you worked here… and that you had a shift today… so I figured I’d swing by.”

You felt your stomach flip, because he actually remembered, and came to see you. You gulped, shoving your hands in the pockets of your apron.

“You… you came here to see me?”

It was then that his smile faltered a bit, and he nodded. He was shifting on his feet, not exactly meeting your eye - whatever confidence and charm he had been exuding when he had arrived was quickly fading. In fact, he looked close to terrified, even though he was the one who came here.

“I - yeah, I did. I was just thinking a lot, after last night… about you, and how you - well, when do you get off? Or, have a break?”

You cocked an eyebrow, cautiously curious. Was he going to ask you out? Or, more importantly, would you say yes if he did?

“Um, I have a lunch break in a bit… and then I get off at 6. Why?”

He bit his lip, shifting on his feet again.

“Right, okay - do you want to meet here, after you get off?”

You felt your stomach turn again, bubbling a bit. Still, you tried not to get your hopes up, and measured your response carefully.

“Sure… can I ask why? Like, are you asking me out, or what?”

You said it bluntly, because the last thing you want is a guessing game right now. He gulped at that, and shook his head. You felt your heart sink just a bit, and immediately cursed yourself inwardly.

“Well, no, not exactly - but I do have something I want to talk to you about. Something that I think can help both of us, if you’re interested.”

Before you could ask anything else, he was nodding curtly, and out the door. Then it was just you, a line of customers, and what would probably be the longest 4 hours of your life.

What the Hell does he want to talk about? you wondered.

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