Trying to be a writer, and figured, "Practice Makes Perfect" Nice to meet you all.
27 and totally enjoying the life I've been given.
Feedback is most welcomed and encouraged as well as any and all questions from anyone interested in my writing or even me.
❏ "You kept something from me that you knew would hurt me" - why would this hurt her? Aside from a familial connection, her and Manadarin never had a good relationship, and Clementine didn't seem interested in repairing it beforehand. She also didn't know Tony, so I'm not getting this.
❏ the irony that Manadrin would treated Clementine badly b/c she might have been an affair baby just to want to be nice now that she's given birth to an actual affair baby.
❏ Mandarin's POV makes me dislike her and her parents even more. There is really no redemption in my eyes. To take all that hate out on an innocent kid for an adult's poor decision, also by the adult who made the bad choice just for you to secretly feel that it might actually be your child? Wicked.
❏ Also, i understand Mandarin feels guilt b/c she's now a mother, but why is her father feeling guilty for how he treated Clementine now of all times? Does he somehow suspect Morgan's conception was more unsavory than what his daughter said? Will he not treat Mandarin poorly after she turned out to be just like her mother?
Sorry for the Dissertation 😭😭🥲
Clementine is one of the most complex protagonists I’ve written. Her actions, and inactions, are intentional, shaped by her circumstances and personality. While I can clearly see these traits and nuances, it’s likely because I’m the one writing her. I often wonder if they’re as clear to readers as they are to me.
Remember how, in the beginning, Clementine didn’t much care for Peter? In fact, you could even say she found him a bit odd. Their relationship didn’t begin as a fairytale romance, it started because she was in a highly stressful period in her life. Clementine had just been kicked out of her room, her makeshift living situation in the basement was destroyed by flooding, and most of her belongings were ruined. To make matters worse, her parents and Mandarin were still treating her poorly, and despite this overwhelming chaos, she still had to keep working and maintain her academics.
Enter Peter: a solution to all of her problems. It’s no surprise that their relationship began while she was under duress. His presence definitely alleviated a massive burden, something she took notice of. But here’s the key: comfort doesn’t equate to security. Even as Clementine leaned on Peter during this time, the reservations she had about him didn’t magically disappear.
Clementine’s relationships are layered. She doesn’t care about Mandarin, and in many ways, you could argue she doesn’t care about Peter, at least, not in the traditional romantic sense.However, she knows that Peter hid Tony’s involvement with Mandarin, and that raises a critical question for her: Why would he do that??
Peter knew Clementine didn't care for Mandarin and was fully aware she had no initial plans to see her again. So why did he think it was necessary to hide the truth from her?
His reasoning: that he didn’t want her to associate him with Tony? Let’s be serious. He could have easily told her when she asked during the car ride after he picked her up from her family’s house. She likely would have rolled her eyes, shrugged it off, and maybe mentioned it to Nikki or Carrot, but that would have been the extent of her reaction.
Even with the threat Clementine had made to Mandarin about exposing her secret, the reality is she truly didn’t care enough to follow through. Yet, Peter insisted on telling her he didn’t know.
This moment is pivotal for Clementine. It forces her to confront not just Peter’s actions, but also the deeper, underlying intentions and truths about their relationship and dynamic. Why would Peter choose deception over honesty in a situation where the stakes didn’t seem high for Clementine or even him? And what does that say about how he truly views her, or their relationship?
Here’s where things get really interesting: Clementine and Mandarin share a critical trait→opportunism.
Mandarin’s opportunism is deeply tied to her role as the favored child. She’s always been the golden girl, the one her parents propped up as an example, often at Clementine’s expense. Mandarin has learned to use her position as the favorite to her advantage, leveraging her parents’ support and their willingness to shield her from consequences. This favoritism gave her a sense of entitlement, allowing her to exploit her privileged position for personal gain.
Her relationship with Tony Stark will essentially be an extension of this behavior. And now, with her parents’ help, she’s attempting to craft a new life while leaning on others including Clementine, when it suits her.
Clementine’s opportunism, while different, is no less impactful. She didn’t initially care for Peter, but she recognized that being with him offered her a chance to escape her toxic family, improve her quality of life, and focus on her studies without the weight of her home life crushing her. Clementine isn’t just letting life happen to her,she’s making deliberate choices to take advantage of the opportunities presented to her, even when those choices come with risks.
This shared trait creates a fascinating parallel between the two sisters. Both are driven by a desire to make the most of their situations, but Mandarin’s opportunism stems from a place of privilege, while Clementine’s stems from survival.
Most characters I’ve written in the past have fallen into one of three categories: logical and sensible, pushovers, or not particularly bright. Clementine is sort of a departure from that. She’s intelligent, self-aware, and deeply flawed. Her journey is not about being the perfect victim or the perfect heroine,it’s about navigating a complicated world with the tools she has, even when those tools include opportunism, detachment, and pride.
Similarly, Mandarin is written to be understood, not forgiven or redeemed. Her opportunism and entitlement have placed her in the position she’s in now, a position of desperation. But just as Clementine is shaped by her survival instincts, Mandarin is shaped by her desire to maintain the privileged status she’s always had.
Mandarin and her parents are deeply flawed, and their treatment of Clementine was cruel. Their behavior reflects how resentment, guilt, and unresolved pain can manifest in destructive ways. Mandarin’s newfound guilt as a mother doesn’t erase the harm she’s done, but it adds depth to her character (Or at least I hope it does) . It’s less about redeeming her and more about exploring how she grapples with her own hypocrisy and choices.
As for their father, Seeing Clementine thrive after leaving might have made him realize how much he failed her. Additionally, becoming a grandfather, combined with Mandarin’s situation, has forced him to confront his biases and mistakes. As for whether he suspects anything about Morgan’s conception... let’s just say his unease might run deeper than guilt alone.
So Tony forced Mandarin into the affair and baby trapped her, she's like he's permanent side piece that can't escape and from what I remember from Kiwi and Steve story Pepper and Tony were still together and it was set a few years after college. How old would Morgan be in that story?
Not gonna lie but I loved seeing Mandarins pov and getting to know more about their family history was pretty neat read.
The dad sounds like weak pathetic man, he's wife cheats and he takes it out on an innocent child while getting the rest of his family to join in and now he feels guilty, that child abusing cuckold can cry a river.
Yea, he got a taste of her and seems to find it challenging to curb that craving.
Tony does marry Pepper, and they are still together, among other things. Pepper knows about Mandarin, and she is the only thing Pepper is not allowed to touch within their marriage. Before anyone asks, it does bother her, but she finds some satisfaction in being the one her man lies with every night. Shes the chosen one.
You're right the parents are terrible. Dad feels guilty because he's realized just how badly he fucked up, and taking any kind of DNA test would further prove to him that he is a shit person, and he doesn't want to have to face that. And mom is feeling some type of way because she feels like Clementine's existence is why the structure of her marriage is about as sturdy as sheet of paper standing on its edge. But I mean, she could have just, you know, NOT CHEATED. Lol
Amazing update! But somehow it made me hate Mandarin even more lol poor clementine, hope she won’t endanger up in trouble because of her sister… again…
Thank you. I absolutely did have a festive period, and it's fine that you don't like Mandarin or that you hate her even more. Posting her POV wasn't meant to be a redemption arc. I just thought it would be cool to include it to give a bit more context to the family dynamic and a way for Clementine to interact with Morgan.
I promise whatever happens to Clementine, Mandarin has nothing to do with it.
Summary: What does Mandarin have to say for herself.
This will be just a taste for another story that I'm creating, I'll just tuck it in with The Price of Success
Warnings: This story contains dark themes, including manipulation, psychological and emotional abuse, unhealthy relationships, non-consensual elements, obsessive behavior, gaslighting, loss of autonomy, forced pregnancy, forced impregnation, infidelity, threats and power imbalances. Please read at your own discretion.
Series Masterlist
I ended the call and let the phone fall onto the blanket beside me. The knot in my chest only tightened. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, but the tears just kept coming, no matter how much I told myself to stop.
She’s not coming.
I should’ve known better than to expect Clementine to forgive me. Let alone drop everything and visit me and my baby. After everything I’ve done, why would she?
But I still tried. God, I tried.
Morgan’s soft cry pulled me out of my thoughts, and I leaned over the bassinet to soothe her. She barely made a sound, just a quiet, breathy whimper as if even she knew I didn’t have the strength to deal with more.
“It’s okay, sweet girl,” I whispered, brushing my fingers over her soft cheek. She blinked up at me with those big, dark eyes…his eyes.
I turned away before the weight of it could crush me.
I sank back into the bed, running my hands over my face, trying to calm myself down. My body ached from the delivery, but the emotional exhaustion was worse. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
When I first found out I was pregnant, I thought I could handle it. I’d kept secrets before, and I was good at it. This one would be no different.
But the closer I got to my due date, the harder it became to keep it all together. And now, with Morgan here, everything felt so fragile, like one wrong move would shatter the careful illusion I’d built around us.
The door opened, and a nurse walked in, her cheerful smile a sharp contrast to the storm inside me.
“How’s Mama doing?” she asked, moving to check my vitals.
I forced a smile. “I’m fine.”
It was the same answer I’d been giving everyone since I got here. Fine. Fine. Fine.
She nodded, jotting something down on her clipboard before checking on Morgan. “She’s beautiful,” the nurse said, glancing back at me.
I swallowed hard, forcing the smile to stay on my face.
“Thank you,” I managed to say, even though the words felt like gravel in my throat.
The nurse left, and I was alone again with Morgan and the suffocating silence.
I stared at Morgan sleeping in the bassinet, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. She looked so peaceful and perfect, and for a moment, I could almost convince myself everything was fine. Almost.
But it wasn’t.
Nothing about this was fine. Not the way she came into the world, not the lies I told to keep my secrets and not the wreckage I left behind in the process. I knew better, I knew better, but that didn’t stop me.
I shifted uncomfortably in the hospital bed, the ache in my body a constant reminder of everything I’d endured over the past year. And yet, the physical pain was nothing compared to the weight in my chest, the voice in my head whispering that I’d ruined everything. For me, for Morgan, for everyone.
I hear a ping from my phone with a message from Nikki: I can’t come tonight. I have an event, but I’m definitely coming tomorrow to see my new niece ❤️
Tony.
His name was a ghost in my mind, lingering in the shadows no matter how hard I tried to shut him out.
I thought I’d feel relief once Morgan was born, like some part of the secret would dissolve now that she was here. But instead, it was heavier, pressing down on me with every glance at her face.
How long before someone looks too closely? Before they see what I see every time I look at her, his eyes, nose, everything? How long before it all comes crashing down?
I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing through the pain. No matter how many meds they gave me, the discomfort lingered like a shadow I couldn’t shake.
I felt so alone.
My parents had been there earlier, witnessing the birth of their first grandchild. But business called them away, as it always did. My mom still managed to text me, listing items she thought I’d need for my new place. She had to stay involved somehow.
I knew what she was doing.
She wasn’t just being helpful, she wanted an excuse to see where I’d be living. But Tony had been crystal clear when he handed me the keys: no visitors. It didn’t matter who they were. He said he wanted me and Morgan to have a space where he could visit freely, without the burden of sneaking around.
The move had been a shock to my parents. My dad, usually so passive, had snapped when he found out. “We kicked Clementine out of her room for you!” he’d said, his voice louder than I’d ever heard it.
I bit back with the same sharpness he gave me. “Don’t use me as an excuse. You never wanted her around anyway.”
His silence since then had been deafening. Even today, when he sat in the hospital room, holding Morgan for the first time, he wasn’t himself. He’d smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He hadn’t said much, and he left without a word.
If I was honest, neither of us had been the same since Clementine left.
But Mom? She was fine. Happier, even.
I guess you could say my issues with Clementine started with the affair. Not mine—my mother’s. She’d been sneaking around with a neighbor of ours, betraying my father behind his back. When the affair came to light, it was like a bomb went off in our lives.
The fallout was immediate and messy. The neighbor and his wife divorced and sold their house. And just when things couldn’t get any worse, my mother found out she was pregnant two months later. They were in couples counseling at the time, trying to patch things up. But the timing of the pregnancy made it impossible not to wonder.
Dad disappeared after that, he just packed a bag and left without a word. He was gone for the better part of her pregnancy. I remember my mother crying herself to sleep most nights, though whether it was because of guilt or fear, I didn’t know.
When she was close to giving birth, he came back. He walked into the house like nothing had happened, but his presence was different, colder, harder. He laid down the rules like a judge handing out a sentence.
He didn’t want to support the child. He wanted nothing to do with Clementine. At the time, my father was convinced she wasn’t his. No DNA test was needed, he trusted his gut, and his gut had never steered him wrong. So, from the start, Clementine was othered within our immediate family. Myself included.
Unfortunately for him, as Clementine grew, she started to look more and more like him. The hairline, the eyes, the lips. Strangers would see us on the street, cooing about how she must be a daddy’s girl because she looked just like him.
I think that guilt started eating him alive, but instead of making amends, he chose to double down. Maybe he thought it was too late to get a DNA test, or maybe admitting he’d been wrong all those years was too much for his pride. Either way, he kept his promise, his cruel, unspoken vow,not to support her. She became more isolated treated as an outsider in her own home.
When Clementine found out he had no intention of helping her through university, I’m sure it was the final nail in the coffin. It was probably the moment she realized she’d never truly be accepted into the family, though I doubt she ever understood why. Still, she rose above it all: earning a full-ride scholarship, maintaining stellar grades, and, of course, securing herself a wealthy boyfriend.
But why did it have to be Peter Parker of all people?
Peter wasn’t just anyone. He was practically Tony Stark’s little brother, a golden boy with more connections than I could ever dream of. Seeing him show up at my house to whisk Clementine away felt like some cruel cosmic prank. As if life was rubbing salt in a wound I hadn’t even realized was festering.
Peter played nice, smiling, holding doors open, calling me by name, but I knew what circle he ran with. You didn’t run with Tony Stark’s crowd unless you had teeth. Behind that charm and warmth, I saw the cruelty and viciousness it took to survive in their world.
And now, Clementine was part of that world. Whether she realized it or not.
I’ll admit, I wasn’t the nicest to Clementine. In fact, I was downright cruel at times. When we were younger, it was easier to justify. Back then, I was just a kid, too busy trying to win our parents’ approval to question their behavior. They egged me on, whether they realized it or not, encouraging me to shine brighter, to be louder, to be better. Better than Clementine.
But now? Now, I had no excuse.
I’d grown up. I understood the way our family worked, the way they pushed Clementine aside, always finding ways to diminish her. Yet I didn’t stop. I could have, should have, but I didn’t. Instead, I leaned into it. It wasn’t just about pleasing our parents anymore; it was about me. About keeping my position as the golden child, the one who could do no wrong, the one they doted on.
Even now, with a baby of my own, I wasn’t much better. I still let them treat Clementine like she didn’t matter. Worse, I benefited from it. It made me sick when I really thought about it. But it was so much easier to pretend it wasn’t happening. Easier to let Clementine shoulder the burden of being the family scapegoat while I stayed in their good graces.
And Peter? He was a reminder of all the ways I’d failed her. The way he’d swooped in and given her so much. A place to stay. A sense of belonging. Someone who saw her value when my parents and I hadn’t. Maybe that’s why it stung so much to see them together, not because I wanted Peter for myself, but because I knew deep down that Clementine had won.
She had escaped her own prison, meanwhile, I was walking into my own.
I thought having Morgan would bring clarity, that holding her would make everything make sense. But it only made the pressure heavier. I wasn’t just living for myself anymore, I was living for her. And if I failed, if I made the wrong move, it wasn’t just my future on the line. It was hers too.
How do I leave Tony? How do I survive without the safety net of our parents, without the life Tony promised if I played my part perfectly.
I heard a knock at the partially open hospital door, and my stomach immediately dropped. When I glanced up, Pepper Potts stood framed by the doorway, her smile unnervingly bright and calculated.
"Hey," she whispered, stepping into the room like she owned it.
"Hi," I said cautiously, unable to mask the surprise in my voice. I stayed where I was, lying in bed, too stunned to move. How did she know I was here? I hadn’t told anyone except my parents Nikki and Clementine. Had Tony told her?
Pepper’s gaze quickly shifted past me to the bassinet beside my bed. Her expression softened as she stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor with each deliberate step.
"Oh, is this her? The newest addition?" she asked, leaning over the bassinet. Without waiting for permission, she reached in and gently picked up Morgan, cradling her in her arms as if she’d done it a hundred times before.
I tensed, gripping the blanket tightly. "What are you doing here?" I asked, "I thought you were busy with an event tonight."
Pepper adjusted Morgan in her arms, rocking her softly. "Oh, the event is under control," she said smoothly, glancing at me before focusing back on Morgan. "I couldn’t possibly miss the chance to come see my dear friend’s baby. And, of course..." Her lips curved into a sharper smile. "The woman who has been fucking my fiancé."
My breath caught in my throat. Her words hit me like a slap, the air in the room suddenly feeling thick and suffocating.
"I-I-“ my voice low and shaky and I try to come up with something to say
Pepper tilted her head slightly, a mockery of innocence on her face. "Oh, come on, Mandarin," she said, her tone biting. "You didn’t think I’d find out? Tony may be good at keeping secrets, but I’m better at uncovering them."
I struggled to keep my voice steady. "Put her back in her bassinet and leave."
Pepper raised an eyebrow, unfazed by my demand. "She’s so innocent," she murmured, looking down at Morgan. "Such a shame she’s caught in the middle of this... unfortunate situation." She brushed her thumb lightly over Morgan’s cheek, making my stomach churn.
"Pepper." I sat up straighter, ignoring the pain shooting through my body. "Put her down. Now."
Pepper’s cold gaze finally met mine. Slowly, she walked back to the bassinet and placed Morgan inside with careful precision, almost as if to prove a point. Straightening her dress, she fixed me with a look so sharp it felt like a blade.
"I want you to disappear," she said, her voice low but sharp enough to cut. "We’ll be getting married soon, and I don’t want some whore sniffing around, messing with our reputation. Do you understand?"
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. My lips parted to respond, but no sound came out. All I could do was nod, my body frozen in place.
Pepper’s eyes narrowed as if she were daring me to say something. When I didn’t, she let out a satisfied breath. "Good." She smoothed the fabric of her dress and adjusted her purse on her shoulder. "You’ll be hearing from my people soon."
With that, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving the door ajar behind her. I stayed frozen, my eyes glued to the empty doorway as her words echoed in my mind..
Morgan let out a soft cry, pulling me back into reality. I gently picked her up from her bassinet, cradling her tiny form against my chest. Her warmth was grounding, but it couldn’t silence the storm raging inside me.
How was I supposed to stay away from Tony when he wouldn’t leave me alone?
The affair had started simply enough, or at least that’s what I told myself. We were both drunk, and one bad decision led us into bed together. At the time, I convinced myself it was a one-time mistake, something I could brush off and forget. But when he called me a few days later, asking me to meet him at his private condo for a "conversation," I went. And somehow, that conversation ended with us tangled in his sheets again.
I told him it had to stop. I tried to end it, but Tony Stark wasn’t the kind of man who took no for an answer. When I brought up Pepper, he brushed it off like it didn’t matter. “Don’t worry about her,” he’d said with that smug, knowing smirk that made me hate myself a little more every time I gave in.
When I tried to cut ties, he spiraled. He threatened to blacklist my parents from their respective professions, and ruin Clementine’s chance at a degree by pulling strings to get her expelled, and even destroy my reputation in ways I couldn’t imagine recovering from. He made it clear: I was his. No matter where I was or what I was doing, if Tony called, I came. It wasn’t worth the fallout to resist.
And then I got pregnant.
The moment I saw the two lines on that test, I knew I couldn’t keep pretending this wasn’t spiraling out of control. I told no one who the father was. When my parents pressed, I lied, saying it was some random guy at a bar whose face I couldn’t even remember. My mom lectured me about being irresponsible, but that was the extent of it. No real consequences, just the shame of my own actions weighing heavier each day.
Now, the consequences were staring me in the face. Pepper had made it clear I was disposable, and Tony? He was the kind of man who wouldn’t hesitate to prove it if it came down to it.
I looked down at Morgan, her little fingers curling against my chest. She didn’t deserve any of this. She was innocent, caught in a web she couldn’t possibly understand. And yet, every choice I made from here on out would shape her future.
I don’t know what possessed me, but before I could stop myself, I snapped a photo of her. My thumb hovered over Clementine’s contact, and then I hit send.
She wouldn’t be able to fix this. I knew that. Peter wouldn’t be able to convince Tony or Pepper of anything that might help me. But Morgan didn’t deserve to suffer for my mistakes. I didn’t deserve Clem’s help, but maybe Morgan did. And if there was even a chance Clementine might soften when she saw her niece, I had to try.
The rest of my day was laced with anxiety. Hours after Pepper’s visit, Tony called. “I’m coming to see Morgan later tonight,” he said casually, as though he hadn’t just turned my life upside down. He ended the call with, “Don’t worry about Pepper. She’s got her panties in a twist, but she’ll get over it.”
If anything, that only made my anxiety worse. I could barely move without feeling like my insides were going to fall out, and being stuck in this hospital bed was driving me insane. Every hour that passed felt like an eternity, and the weight of everything. Pepper’s threats, Tony’s indifference, my lack of support. It was suffocating.
My parents came to visit once more for the day. My dad barely said a word, sitting stiffly in the corner while my mom fussed over Morgan like everything was fine. When they left, I felt emptier than before.
The day was drawing to a close, and I had just finished feeding Morgan. Her tiny face tilted up at me as I cooed at her, the only thing grounding me in the chaos. That’s when I caught movement at the door. I looked up, and my breath hitched.
Clementine and Nikki stood there, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a wave of relief. I hadn’t realized just how much I needed to see a familiar face, two even, until that moment.
“Hi,” I greeted softly, my voice cracking slightly.
“Oh, my goodness, is that Morgan?” Nikki’s voice was full of excitement, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of my baby.
For once, I didn’t roll my eyes at Nikki’s dramatics. I just nodded, too overwhelmed to care.
“You don’t mind if I hold her, do you?” Nikki asked, already stepping closer.
I handed Morgan over without hesitation, and Nikki immediately started cooing at her, rocking her gently. Morgan’s tiny face scrunched up in confusion at the strange noises, but she didn’t fuss, and Nikki’s gushing brought a small smile to my face.
Then I turned to Clementine.
“Hey, Clem.” I said unsure
Her gaze was sharp, cutting through me like a blade. “Is Tony Stark the father?”
The air in the room went heavy, and my heart sank.
Summary: Clementine has fought tooth and nail to achieve her dream of attending a prestigious university. Balancing her demanding workload, a suffocating home life, and financial strain, she’ll do whatever it takes to stay afloat. Enter Peter Parker: wealthy, charming, and unexpectedly fixated on her. When he offers a proposition that could solve all her problems, Clementine reluctantly agrees—unaware she’s stepping into a carefully constructed trap. What begins as a transactional relationship spirals into something far darker as Peter’s true intentions come to light.
Warnings: This story contains dark themes, including manipulation, psychological and emotional abuse, unhealthy relationships, non-consensual elements, obsessive behavior, gaslighting, loss of autonomy, familial neglect, and power imbalances. Please read at your own discretion.
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto
Series Masterlist
"Clem, please come see me. Come and meet your niece," Mandarin pleaded over the phone.
It had been a couple of months since I escaped my personal hell to move in with Peter. Life since then has been nothing short of amazing. I quit my work-study job at the library, and now my tutoring client list is down to one person: Carrot.
I occasionally tutor Peter only when he insists he needs some "practice." Otherwise, my focus is solely on my studies, and acting as Peter’s unofficial girlfriend.
We never formally made it official, but peer pressure forced me to bear the title. Living with a guy who takes me on dinner dates and introduces me to his high-society friends at fancy galas practically screams "relationship." At this point, it’s easier to just go with it.
My parents called twice since I moved out. The first time, my mom berated me for not paying rent, even though I wasn’t living there anymore.
I hung up on her.
Peter, ever the problem-solver, offered to help with their bills. But when I told him they weren’t strapped for cash, he was confused, then shocked. Once he realized my parents made me pay rent despite not needing me to, he offered to ruin their lives. I had to give him a side-eye before calming him down and explaining that I didn’t want revenge.
The second call was from my dad, asking if I wasn’t coming back. When I told him no, he sounded genuinely guilty. But that guilt wasn’t enough to make me care.
Mandarin hadn’t called me at all, at least not until now.
She was practically begging me to meet her newborn, born earlier that morning at 2 a.m.
“I’m hanging up now,” I replied flatly.
Honestly, I had no intention of reconnecting with my family. I figured they felt the same, so Mandarin’s sudden outreach was surprising and irritating.
“Her name is Morgan,” she continued, her voice thick with emotion. “She’s so small and cute, and I honestly think you’d love to meet her.” She sniffled, clearly on the verge of tears.
I sighed. “Mandarin, we don’t exactly have the best relationship. So tell me, especially after the last time we saw each other, why you’d want me to meet your daughter. Or why you think I’d want to.”
“Please,” she whispered, hiccupping. “I need you. Morgan needs you.”
“Then call Mom and Dad,” I snapped. “They seem to have all the time and love in the world for you.”
“They’re not here. None of my friends are around, and I feel so alone,” she admitted, her voice trembling.
Rolling my eyes, I relented slightly. “I’ll think about it.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
As soon as I hung up, I decided I wasn’t going. Life was too good right now, and I’d be damned if I let Mandarin drag me back into the chaos.
“Was that Mandarin?” Peter asked from the couch.
“Yeah,” I said.
“What did she want?” he asked, walking over to me and wrapping his arms around my waist.
“She wants me to meet her baby,” I said.
“Are you going?” he asked, his tone curious as he rested his chin on my shoulder.
“No,” I replied firmly.
He smirked. “Probably for the best. Considering.”
He kissed my temple.
I’d told Peter a lot about my childhood with Mandarin. It was…therapeutic, and he was a great listener. However, now, he seemed to have his own quiet vendetta against her and my parents.
Which wasn’t my intention. But I had to appreciate the fact that he had my back.
Right?
He turned me around to face him, the widest grin spreading across his face. I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss.
His hands slid over my hips and down to my bottom, giving it a gentle squeeze before pulling me closer. When we pulled apart, he whispered, "So, when do I get to see the outfit you plan to wear to Tony’s event tonight?"
"Why? So you can ruin it like you did the last one?" I teased.
"Ruin it? Is that what I did?" he asked, feigning innocence.
I rolled my eyes. "I don’t even have it right now. Gerald insisted I get it tailored, so it should be ready in a couple of hours."
"Damn," he said with a smirk, "I was hoping to practice all the ways I’d take it off you."
I slapped his arm lightly and pulled away, gathering a few things as I moved toward the door. "I have to get to class to present this final project. Afterward, I’ll pick up the dress. Do you want just to meet me at Tony’s?"
"Never," he said, quickly closing the distance between us to plant another kiss on my lips. "I’ll be waiting for you right here."
When I arrived to class, I sat down and waited for presentations to begin. My phone buzzed with a text from Mandarin.
She’d sent a picture of baby Morgan. I had to admit, the baby was one of the cutest I’d ever seen. Still, I rolled my eyes, saved the photo, and closed the message.
Switching to a group chat with Carrot and Nikki, I saw Nikki had been sending pictures of potential outfits for Tony’s event. I decided to send Mandarin’s baby photo to the chat with the caption: Baby Morgan made it into the world.
Carrot replied almost immediately: OMG, she’s so cute!😍
Nikki added: Isn’t she? I’m planning to visit tomorrow. Are you coming, Clem?
Before I could think of a response, I heard my name.
Looking up, I saw Professor Xavier staring at me expectantly. I quickly put my phone away, stood up, and walked to the front of the class to start my presentation. Nikki’s question faded into the back of my mind as I focused on the task at hand.
"So, you never told me how the presentation went," Peter said.
We were on our way to Tony's event, running a bit late because Peter couldn’t keep his hands to himself. His distractions had pushed us back by at least half an hour. While Peter insisted it would be fine, I couldn’t shake my nervousness. I had only met his group of friends and associates once before, never all at once. I didn’t want this to set a bad precedent, especially considering how affluent and influential everyone there would be.
"It was fine. I’m pretty sure I passed," I replied.
Peter chuckled. "You definitely passed. I had to sit through that presentation a hundred times before you felt like it was perfect."
I rolled my eyes. "It wasn’t a hundred times."
"It felt like it," he teased, placing a hand on my thigh.
As we came to a stoplight, his hand started to inch toward my inner thigh, creeping up my skirt. I grabbed it and held it firmly in my own.
"Nope," I said firmly. "You already got what you wanted back at the apartment. We’re not doing this again."
"Oh, come on, just a taste," he smirked, clearly amused by my reprimand.
"No," I repeated, raising an eyebrows at him. "Be a good boy, and we’ll see how the night goes."
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze and sighed in mock defeat. "Alright," he conceded, though the mischievous twinkle in his eye told me he wasn’t done testing my resolve.
When we arrived at the party, Peter handed his keys to the valet with a casual smile, and we were greeted by coat check at the door.
As we were led through the grand halls of Tony Stark's mansion, I couldn’t help but gape in awe at the opulence surrounding us. The sheer size of the place was overwhelming, but it was the details that really got to me. The intricate woodwork, the polished marble floors, and the art—oh, the art.
“Wow,” I murmured as we passed a hyperrealistic statue of a nude woman holding a child. Her expression was serene, almost otherworldly. I glance at the name of the piece: ‘Love’s Secret Child’
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Peter commented, catching the direction of my gaze. “Tony loves to be extra.”
I looked back at him, catching his grin, and chuckled. “I can tell.”
We continued walking, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor as we approached what could only be the grand hall. As we entered, my breath hitched. The room was dazzling, crystal chandeliers bathed everything in warm, golden light, and the crowd was a sea of expensive suits and glittering gowns. Servers moved through the room with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres, and the hum of conversation filled the air like a low, luxurious symphony.
Immediately, my eyes found Nikki. She stood in the middle of the room, wearing a stunning dark teal floor-length gown with a deep plunge at the neckline, the perfect balance of elegance and allure. A small crowd of men surrounded her, captivated by her every word, their laughter rising above the hum of the room. She looked radiant, commanding attention with effortless charm.
“She got comfortable fast,” Peter commented with a smirk.
I couldn’t help but grin. Of course, she did. Nikki had a way of fitting in wherever she went.
Carrot couldn’t make it tonight—she’d come down with something and decided to rest—but I was relieved Nikki was here. Out of everyone I knew, she was by far the most sociable and outgoing. If anyone could thrive in a setting like this, it was her.
Peter’s hand found the small of my back as we moved further into the room, grounding me amidst the grandeur. “Ready to mingle?” he asked, his voice low and close to my ear.
I nodded, drawing in a steadying breath.
“Peter!”
A high-pitched voice rang out, cutting through the murmur of the room.
We both turned toward it, and there was Pepper, walking toward us with a bright smile and her arms open in greeting.
“Peter, it’s so good to see you,” she said warmly, leaning in to kiss his cheek before turning her attention to me. “And you must be Clementine.”
I nodded. “Yes, nice to meet you.”
“Of course, I remember seeing you at Mandarin’s baby shower,” she said, her expression brightening as recognition dawned. “You’re her sister, right?”
I nodded again, glancing briefly at Peter, who gave me a reassuring rub on my back. The gesture was subtle, but it calmed my nerves a bit.
“How is Mandarin?” Pepper asked, her voice laced with genuine curiosity.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted, my tone neutral. “We haven’t spoken much lately, but from what I hear, she had her baby.”
“This morning, I think,” I replied, leaning slightly into Peter’s touch.
“Really?” she said, a delighted smile spreading across her face. “I simply must go see her sometime this week.” She paused as if expecting me to say something more.
“You definitely should,” I said politely, maintaining a pleasant tone.
“Well, enjoy the evening!” she said with a graceful wave before whisking away to greet someone else who had just entered the room.
When I was sure Pepper was out of earshot, I turned to Peter.
“That was weird, right?” I asked.
He tilted his head, his expression puzzled. “What was weird?”
“How did she not know Mandarin was having her baby, or already had her baby?”
“Maybe they’re not that close,” he said with a shrug.
“She was at the baby shower, Peter.”
He hesitated. “I don’t know.”
I studied his face, but he looked genuinely confused. Maybe I was overreacting. I had decided I didn’t want anything to do with my immediate family, and yet here I was, grilling Peter about something he probably had no idea about.
“I’m sorry,” I said, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“No need to be sorry,” he replied, giving me a quick peck on the lips.
As the evening wore on, I chatted with Nikki, who was having the time of her life, mingled with a few more of Peter’s friends, and eventually found myself in a cozy lounge room with Tony and Peter.
Tony sat in a large armchair, a drink in hand, and a selection of bottles sprawled out on the small bar cart next to him. Every now and then, he poured himself another, sometimes without even finishing the previous one.
The two of them were deep in conversation about business, tossing around inside jokes and banter I didn’t understand. Tony’s laugh was loud and infectious, but there was something about the way he kept refilling his glass that made me uneasy. He didn’t seem drunk, just... restless.
I sipped my drink quietly, letting their dynamic play out, until Tony turned to me and asked,
“You’re Mandarin’s sister, right?”
Surprised by his acknowledgment, I turned to Tony before nodding.
“Yeah. Pepper told me she had her baby this morning... Morgan, right?” he asked.
That’s right. Mandarin’s baby’s name was Morgan.
I nodded again, taking a sip of my drink. “Yeah, Morgan.”
Something felt off.
“Or at least, that’s what Pepper told me,” Tony added, his tone casual but his gaze sliding over to Peter.
I followed his line of sight, turning to Peter. For a brief moment, I caught an unfamiliar look in his eyes. It vanished so quickly, I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it. My stomach tightened, and I carefully placed my drink down on the table.
“Excuse me,” I said abruptly, my voice steady despite the unease building inside me. “I have to use the washroom.”
As I turned to leave, Peter reached out to grab my hand, but I stepped out of his reach before he could stop me. My heart was pounding as I made my way back to the large hall, scanning the crowd. The buzz of conversations and laughter felt muffled, distant, as my eyes landed on Nikki.
Without hesitation, I rushed toward her, grabbing her hand and leaning in to whisper in her ear.
“I need you to take me to Mandarin.”
Nikki paused to get a good look at me, concern etched on her face, before grabbing my hand and pulling me through the crowd.
We stepped outside, and Nikki went straight to the valet, not even bothering with coat check.
“What happened?” she asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
“I don’t know,” I said, my voice calm despite the whirlwind of emotions beneath. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“Clementine!” Peter’s voice called out as he rushed down the steps toward me. “Babe, listen—”
“No,” I said firmly but evenly, cutting him off. “I’ll see you at home.”
I gave him a look, one that told him not to push, and to my surprise, he stopped in his tracks. “Okay,” he said after a pause. “I’ll see you at home.”
The valet pulled up with Nikki’s car, and we climbed in. The ride to the hospital was quiet, eerily so. Nikki didn’t press me, and for once, my mind was completely blank. I wasn’t panicking or overthinking. I felt… tranquil, almost numb.
When we arrived, Nikki handled the visitor badges for us both, her efficient demeanor snapping me back into reality. Together, we headed up to Mandarin’s room. When we stepped inside, Mandarin’s face lit up, a smile spreading across her features.
“Hi!” she greeted, her voice tired but warm.
She looked rough.
In all my years of knowing Mandarin, which was my entire life, I had never seen her look anything less than flawless. Even in the depths of drama or chaos, she always managed to have every hair in place, and her makeup impeccable. Seeing her now, hair disheveled, bags under her eyes, was unsettling.
Nikki wasted no time. “Oh my goodness, is that Morgan?” she gushed, her voice full of excitement.
Mandarin nodded, holding up the tiny bundle in her arms. Nikki stepped forward eagerly. “You don’t mind if I hold her, do you?”
Mandarin smiled weakly and carefully passed Morgan over. Nikki immediately became a cooing mess, swaying gently with the baby cradled in her arms.
Meanwhile, I stood near the door, my arms crossed and my eyes locked on Mandarin.
“Hey, Clem,” she said, her tone cautious.
I didn’t return the greeting. Instead, I asked flatly, “Is Tony Stark the father?”
The smile on her face froze. For a moment, it was so quiet you could hear an ant fart.
Mandarin’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. I could see the wheels turning in her head, the way her expression flickered between shock and panic.
“Well?” I pressed, my tone sharper this time.
She stammered, “W-What kind of question is that?”
“A reasonable one,” I said, stepping closer. “Answer it.”
I could see Nikki swaying baby Morgan back and forth, her earlier cooing replaced by wide-eyed silence as she watched me unload Mandarin’s mess.
“Mandarin,” I said, my voice firmer now. “Please just be honest with me.”
She hesitated, biting her lip before finally asking, “How did you know?”
“Tony,” I said flatly.
Nikki, still holding Morgan, chimed in, “We were just at an event he and Pepper hosted.”
Mandarin’s face paled, her guilt clear as day.
“He’s engaged to Pepper,” I said, each word deliberate and biting.
“I know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“What do you mean, you know?” My voice rose, sharp with disbelief, though I tried to remain mindful of the newborn in the room. “And you still slept with him?”
“It just happened…” she started, but her weak excuse only fueled my anger.
“Oh really?” I snapped, crossing my arms. “You just tripped and fell right on his dick?”
“It happened,” she said, her voice cracking. “And now I’m stuck.”
“Stuck?” I repeated, incredulous. “You’re stuck because you made the choice to mess with a man you knew was engaged to another woman.”
Tears welled in Mandarin’s eyes, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far, Clem. I didn’t plan this.”
“Clearly,” I retorted, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve managed to not only screw up your life but potentially wreck someone else’s too. Do you even care about what this could do to Pepper? To Morgan!?”
Mandarin looked down, avoiding my gaze. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Well, congratulations,” I said coldly, gesturing toward Morgan, who was still peacefully swaddled in Nikki’s arms. “Because it looks like you’ve done a fine job of making a mess out of everything.”
“Hey, Clem, cut her some slack,” Nikki said, her tone soft but firm.
“Why should I?” I shot back.
“Because she just had a baby,” Nikki replied, carefully placing Morgan into her bassinet. “I get where you’re coming from, but this is neither the time nor the place for this.”
Nikki stepped closer to me, lowering her voice. “She’s clearly going through a lot right now, and berating her while she’s still probably feeling the aftereffects of her vagina being ripped open isn’t doing anyone any good.”
I glanced at Mandarin, her head buried in her hands as she tried, and failed, to stifle her sobs. A pang of guilt hit me, and I sighed, deciding to back off, at least for now.
The tense atmosphere had died down a bit and awkward silence was slowly taking its place.
“Can I hold her?” I asked.
Mandarin lifted her head, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked at me for a moment before nodding silently.
I made my way over to Morgan’s bassinet, carefully lifting her tiny form into my arms. Looking down at her for the first time, I couldn’t help but think how much cuter she looked in person. Her little face was soft and peaceful, her delicate features making my heart ache in a way I didn’t expect.
“Hi, Morgan,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I’m your auntie Clementine.”
When Nikki pulled up outside Peter’s building, I hesitated before getting out. The lights in his apartment were on, a warm glow spilling through the curtains, beckoning me back inside. But I couldn’t shake the knot in my stomach.
"Want me to come up with you?" Nikki asked, her voice softer now.
I shook my head. "No, I need to do this on my own."
She nodded, reaching over to squeeze my hand. "Whatever happens, just remember you deserve honesty and respect. If you don’t feel that here, then you walk. Simple as that."
I nodded, her words giving me a small surge of confidence. I grabbed my bag and stepped out, feeling the weight of uncertainty press on my shoulders as I made my way inside.
When I unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment, Peter was already waiting for me, pacing in the living room. He turned the moment I entered, relief washing over his face.
"Hey," he started, his voice gentle but unsure. "I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come back."
I didn’t respond right away. Instead, I took off my shoes and coat, setting them neatly by the door before walking into the living room. I sat down on the couch, crossing my legs and arms.
He followed standing in front of me, waiting for me to say something.
"I’m here. Now explain why you didn’t tell me Tony was Morgan’s father."
Peter’s face dropped slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit I’d seen a hundred times before. "Clementine, it’s not that simple."
"Really? Because it seems pretty simple to me," I countered, my tone sharper than I intended. "You knew, didn’t you? You’ve known this entire time."
He sighed, walking toward me cautiously. "Yes, I knew. But—"
"But what?" I interrupted. "What possible reason could you have for keeping that from me?"
Peter hesitated, his hands fidgeting at his sides. "Tony swore me to secrecy. He didn’t want this getting out, and I was stuck in the middle. I didn’t know how to tell you without betraying him."
I scoffed, my disbelief bubbling over. "So his reputation was more important than my trust? Good to know where your priorities lie."
"It wasn’t about choosing him over you," Peter said, his voice pleading. "I was trying to protect you, Clem. I didn’t want you dragged into this mess."
"Protect me from what, Peter? The truth?" My voice cracked, and I hated how vulnerable I sounded.
"From all of it," he said, stepping closer. "You don’t know Tony like I do. He’s powerful and ruthless when it comes to protecting his image. If you got caught up in this, he wouldn’t think twice about using his influence to hurt you, your family, your education…everything."
I stared at him, gauging whether this was genuine or just another excuse. His eyes were earnest, but the damage was already done.
"So you lied to me because you thought you knew what was best for me?" I asked, my voice quiet but biting.
"I didn’t lie," Peter said quickly. "I just-"
"You just omitted the truth. Got it," I cut him off, my words dripping with sarcasm.
Peter’s desperation hung thick in the air as he knelt before me, his hands firmly resting on my thighs as he pleaded his case. His eyes were wide, his face painted with genuine fear. "Clem, please. I know I messed up, but everything I’ve done has been to make your life better. You’re thriving here. You’re finally away from all the crap your parents put you through. Don’t let this ruin what we have."
I took a deep breath, leaning back into the couch, my body tense as I weighed his words. "What we have? How can I trust anything we have when you kept something like this from me?"
Peter’s pleading eyes locked onto mine as his hands rested firmly on my thighs, carefully uncrossing my legs, a mix of desperation and resolve in his voice.
"I’ve done everything I could to give you peace, to make you feel safe," he said. "I can’t lose you over something that doesn’t even involve us. You mean too much to me."
He pushes my dress up, as his fingers creeping in between my thighs.
I hesitated, searching his face for any hint of manipulation, but his expression was raw, almost pained. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, but something about his logic still felt off.
"You kept something from me that you knew would hurt me," I said, my voice steady but strained. "That doesn’t feel like safety to me, Peter. That feels like control."
He pauses his movements flinching at my words, a flicker of guilt crossing his features.
"I wasn’t trying to control you," he insisted. "I was trying to protect what we have. I didn’t want to risk you seeing me in the same light as Tony or thinking I’m like him. You’re the only person who makes me feel... real."
I softened slightly, caught off guard by his vulnerability. He pushes forwards with his movements, and before he can get to my most intimate area, I grab hold of his hands, trying to move them away, but he won’t allow it.
"Protecting what we have means being honest with me, Peter. I can’t trust someone who can’t even be honest with me.”
He releases a long, shaky sigh “Please, I just want you.”
Peter swatted my hands away with ease, gripping my thighs and lifting them over his shoulders as if I weighed nothing. It caught me off guard, and my breath hitched as I tried to process what was happening. The look in his eyes was intense, almost primal, and it sent a shiver down my spine.
"Peter," I started, my voice uncertain, but he cut me off with a firm, determined tone.
"Let me show you how much you mean to me," he said softly, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
His hands gripped me securely, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to make me forget about the whirlwind of emotions swirling in my head. It was overwhelming, the way he focused on me entirely, like I was the only thing that mattered in the universe.
I was stuck, what do I do? What could I do? But submit to him.
I felt him push my panties to the side, the cool air grazing my skin for only a second before his mouth replaced it. A sharp gasp escaped me as Peter’s tongue explored with deliberate, unrelenting intent. My fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, pulling at the strands as a wave of heat coursed through me.
"Peter," I whispered, my voice trembling, though I wasn’t sure if it was meant as a plea for him to stop or to keep going.
He groaned in response, the vibration sending a ripple of pleasure through my body. His hands gripped my thighs tighter, holding me in place as he worked with a precision that made my head spin. Every stroke, every flick of his tongue, seemed designed to pull me further from reality and into a haze of sensation.
I arched my back, my breaths turning into soft, helpless whimpers. The emotions I’d been wrestling with earlier, anger, betrayal, confusion, felt so distant now, replaced by a fire that consumed every part of me. It was maddening how he knew exactly how to unravel me, piece by piece.
"Peter, please," I gasped, not even sure what I was begging for anymore.
My legs trembled, the tension in my body building until it felt unbearable. Every nerve seemed to spark under his touch, his tongue and lips working me over with an expertise that left me breathless. My hands tightened in his hair, as I felt myself teetering on the edge.
"Peter-" My voice broke as my entire body tensed. The knot in my core unraveled all at once, sending a rush of white-hot pleasure through me. I gasped, my head falling back as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over me, leaving me shaking in his grasp.
Peter didn’t stop, his movements softening but still intentional, drawing out every last bit of my release. I felt my body melt into the couch, boneless and completely spent.
When I finally opened my eyes, Peter was looking up at me, his lips curved into a satisfied smile. His hands slid down my thighs, grounding me as my breathing began to steady.
"Still mad at me?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.
I blinked at him, my mind still hazy from the high. "You’re impossible." The only response I could muster.
Peter leaned up, planting a gentle kiss on my lips. "And yet, you’re still here."
Hey everyone, sorry for not uploading last week, but I'm also not uploading this week. At the moment I'm out of my home country and I won't be back home until this Wednesday. This is the first that I am getting working wifi since I got here, however I have been drafting and opted to let you know that I will be uploading this upcoming Saturday, and I hope it makes up for these missed weeks. ❤️
Summary: Clementine has fought tooth and nail to achieve her dream of attending a prestigious university. Balancing her demanding workload, a suffocating home life, and financial strain, she’ll do whatever it takes to stay afloat. Enter Peter Parker: wealthy, charming, and unexpectedly fixated on her. When he offers a proposition that could solve all her problems, Clementine reluctantly agrees—unaware she’s stepping into a carefully constructed trap. What begins as a transactional relationship spirals into something far darker as Peter’s true intentions come to light.
Warnings: This story contains dark themes, including manipulation, psychological and emotional abuse, unhealthy relationships, non-consensual elements, obsessive behavior, gaslighting, loss of autonomy, familial neglect, and power imbalances. Please read at your own discretion.
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto
My knees pressed firmly into the mattress, toes flexed against the sheets as I anchored myself, rising and sinking in a steady rhythm. The burn in my legs was merciless, spreading with each controlled movement, but I embraced it. My hands gripped his thighs behind me for support as I leaned back, arching my body. The pull in my ankles and the ache deep in my core blurred into something intoxicating. Every rise brought me closer, my breaths stuttering, my muscles tightening as I gave in to the momentum, chasing that blissful peak.
Peter’s hands clutched at my hips, grounding me, pushing up every time I sank down. My whimpers tangled with his low grunts, building into a crescendo that finally shattered, a vivid burst of feeling. I collapsed against his chest, the two of us melting together as we came down, chests heaving, drenched in sweat.
“Wow,” he breathed, voice thick with exhaustion and awe. “You’re so perfect, you know that?”
A tired chuckle escaped me. I rolled off him and reached for my phone, still tethered to the charger. I’d heard it buzz earlier, but I was too preoccupied to care. The screen lit up with a series of texts.
Mandarin Hey loser, are you dead? Mom says you haven’t been home in a few days.
I scowled and replied before I could stop myself.
Me: Do you care?
Her response came quicker than I expected.
Mandarin: If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have texted.
I stared at the message for a moment before shutting off the screen. It’d been a few days since I took refuge at Peter’s place, and I hadn’t said a word to my parents or Mandarin. I wasn’t sure why she cared, but for once, silence felt like power.
These last few days with Peter had been...easy. For the first time in months, maybe years, I wasn’t carrying the weight of my family’s expectations or my endless to-do lists. I felt lighter, more like myself, and yet completely unlike myself. Nikki and Carrot had no idea I’d been staying with him. We hung out a once or twice since the frat party, but neither of them asked where I’d been, so I didn’t volunteer the information.
Peter, to his credit, hadn’t said a word either. But the way he looked at me on campus, like he couldn’t wait to pounce, spoke volumes. And when I came over at night, he did exactly that.
I was less stressed, less miserable, and more rested than I’d been since starting university. I could get used to this. I wanted to get used to this. But I knew I couldn’t.
Another text buzzed. I sighed and looked at the screen.
Mandarin: Dad called contractors to fix the leak in the basement. Mom wants your stuff out of the living room ASAP.
I groaned out loud.
“What’s wrong?” Peter asked softly.
I looked up to find him watching me, his eyes filled with concern.
“It’s nothing,” I muttered, sliding the phone face-down onto the nightstand.
“Hey, hey,” he said, sitting up and pulling me back into his arms. He nudged his nose against my cheek, planting a soft kiss just under my ear. “You can talk to me.”
I let out a slow breath, resting my head against his shoulder. “I think I have to go home tonight.”
“What? Why?” His voice sharpened with something that sounded almost like panic.
“They fixed the basement,” I said flatly. “And now my mom wants me to move my stuff out of the living room. Ill have to go tonight, so I guess this is our last day in paradise together.”
Peter pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. “So what, you’re just going to move back into that health hazard? With all the mold and God-knows-what-else?”
I stayed quiet.
During the short time I’d been here, I’d vented to Peter about my living situation more than I meant to. The way my parents dismissed me. The way Mandarin got everything handed to her. The utter unfairness of it all. I didn’t want his pity, but having someone listen, really listen, had felt like a weight off my shoulders.
A low rumble of thunder echoed outside, followed by a quick flash of lightning that lit up the bedroom. I glanced at the window before standing, more comfortable with my nudity as I stretched. “It’s not like I want to go back,” I admitted, “but what choice do I have?”
Peter watched me with an unreadable expression as I gathered up my things and headed toward the bathroom. “What choice do you have?” he repeated under his breath, his tone quiet but sharp.
I paused in the doorway, looking back at him. His brows furrowed, concern clouding his face.
“Don’t worry about it, Peter. I’ll figure it out,” I said before slipping into the bathroom.
As I closed the door, I leaned against it for a second, staring at the sleek tile floor. My reflection stared back at me from the mirror across the room.
I shook off my thoughts and stepped into the shower, trying to focus on the here and now. Peter had been more of a safe haven than I ever expected, but deep down, I knew it couldn’t last.
Moments into my shower, I heard the bathroom door creak open. My heart skipped for a second before the shower curtain shifted, and there stood Peter, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. His hair was a mess, strands falling over his forehead, and the boyish charm he carried so effortlessly was impossible to ignore.
“Mind if I join?” he asked, his tone casual, but the glint in his eyes told a different story.
I smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t see why not.”
What followed was another blur of heat and steam—more stolen kisses, hands exploring skin, and water cascading down our bodies as if trying to wash away whatever had brought us together in the first place. By the time we were finished, my legs were jelly, and Peter looked annoyingly satisfied with himself.
Wrapped in a fluffy towel, I padded into his bedroom and rummaged through the shopping bags neatly tucked away in his closet. Another bonus to staying with Peter: Gerald had apparently decided to stock the closet with clothes for me “just in case.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about being preemptively prepared for, but as I sifted through the luxury brands, Gucci, Chanel, Versace, I couldn’t bring myself to complain.
I tugged on a soft, oversized sweater and paired it with sleek leggings, all while Peter leaned against the closet door, arms crossed and a towel slung low around his waist. I could feel his eyes on me, a quiet intensity that made me pause mid-motion.
“What?” I asked, turning to face him.
He shrugged, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Nothing.”
“Then why are you staring at me like that?”
He hesitated for a moment, like he was choosing his words carefully. “Why don’t you stay with me?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“Stay here,” he said, unfolding his arms and stepping closer. “You don’t have to go back to that place. To them.”
“Peter…” I started, but he cut me off, his voice gentle.
“Listen, I know you think you can handle it, and you can. But you don’t have to. Not alone, anyway.”
I sighed, gripping the hem of the sweater. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” he pressed. “I have plenty of space, you’re already comfortable here, and I like having you around. Just think about it.”
The way he looked at me then, earnest and almost vulnerable, made me falter. For a moment, I considered it. The thought of not having to go back home, to the moldy basement, to Mandarin’s smug glances and my parents’ indifference, was tempting.
But as much as I wanted the escape, something in my gut held me back.
“I’ll think about it,” I finally said, hoping it would satisfy him for now.
Peter smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s all I’m asking.”
As he turned to grab clothes for himself, I exhaled, the air feeling heavier in my lungs. Deep down, I knew this was dangerous, not just staying here, but everything. Peter, his kindness, the luxury, the temporary reprieve from reality… it was all too good to be true.
Peter insisted on dropping me off at school.
Up until now, he’d been fine letting me walk, which I didn’t mind. What used to be an hour-and-a-half commute had turned into a 20-minute stroll, 25 if I stopped by the coffee shop. But this time, he insisted, even going so far as to have the valet park his car right outside 10 minutes before we left the building.
I relented, mostly because I figured he’d miss me. After all, this was my last day at his place. I’d packed up my books and grabbed the rest of my stuff that had been left behind in Nikki’s car, making sure to leave Peter’s tablet on his desk. I had no intention of coming back that evening.
The drive to school took less than five minutes, and Peter pulled right up to the main entrance. It was almost obnoxious how easy everything was when you had money.
“See you,” Peter said, shooting me a grin as I climbed out. “You’re welcome back anytime.”
“Bye,” I mumbled quickly, shutting the door behind me before he could say anything else.
Unfortunately, Carrot was there too—standing by the steps, eyes wide as she watched me step out of Peter’s luxury car.
“Uh, you’re here early,” I said, trying to deflect as I made a beeline toward her.
“Yeah,” she replied, still staring at the car. “I thought I’d keep you company at the library before our session today.”
“Right,” I muttered, gripping her arm and steering her away from the crowd of eyes I could feel burning into me.
Behind me, I heard Peter’s an obnoxious beep. I glanced back to see him waving with that same smirk plastered on his face. Carrot waved shyly in return.
“That’s Peter Parker,” she whispered, her voice low, as if saying his name out loud would make this moment any more surreal.
“Yep,” I said curtly.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as we crossed the threshold into the library. “Why were you in his car?”
“He gave me a ride,” I replied nonchalantly, placing my bag under the librarian station.
Carrot didn’t buy it. “Why?”
I turned to face her, keeping my expression calm. “Because I slept over at his place last night. Actually for the last few nights.”
Her jaw dropped. “Wait—what?”
I could already feel Magda, the school librarian, eyeing us like a hawk circling prey, so I grabbed a stack of returns and motioned for Carrot to follow me deeper into the shelves.
“Have you been staying there since the party?” she whispered urgently, trailing after me like she was piecing together a murder mystery. “That was a week ago!”
“Friday was the party,” I said, sliding a book back onto the shelf. “It’s Wednesday. It hasn’t been a week yet—just a few days.” I corrected
Carrot gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in shock. “Does Nikki know?”
I paused, glancing over at her puppy-dog expression. She looked so betrayed, as if I’d been keeping the country’s deepest secrets from her.
“No one knows, Carrot,” I said softly.
Her voice dropped even lower, like she was afraid someone might overhear us. “Why are you keeping it a secret?”
I shrugged, sliding another book onto the shelf. “I’m not. It’s just… no one asked.”
“How are we supposed to ask if we don’t know anything?” she said, exasperated.
I didn’t have a good answer for that. I stayed quiet, focusing on the books in front of me.
“Unless…” Carrot hesitated, her voice tinged with concern. “Unless you don’t want anyone to know?”
“It was only meant to be temporary,” I admitted, finally turning to face her. “Today’s my last day there. I’m going home tonight.”
She blinked at me, like she wasn’t sure whether to believe me or not. I tried to smile, but just saying the words made my stomach twist in knots.
Home.
Just the idea of it made me want to barf.
Look," I turned to Carrot, pausing to glance over my shoulder as I organized the stack of returns. “I didn’t mean to hold this back from you.”
She hovered nearby, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I get it,” she said quietly, her tone softer now. “It’s just… I didn’t expect it.”
I sighed, carefully placing another book on the shelf. “Yeah. Same here.”
“You should tell Nikki, though,” Carrot added after a beat, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her sweater. “I think she’d want to know.”
“I will,” I promised with a small smile.
Carrot nodded, seemingly satisfied, and turned to find herself a quiet spot in the library to wait for me. She’d told me earlier her brother was picking her up after our tutoring session, but for now, she was content to kill time and keep me company, at least from a distance.
I slipped back into the rhythm of my work, shelving returns, helping a student find a reference book, and manning the circulation desk. It wasn’t glamorous, but I liked the predictable routine of it. It gave me something solid to focus on when everything else felt like it was teetering on the edge.
As the hours crawled by, the weather shifted. What had started as a soft drizzle outside gradually transformed into a relentless downpour, the sound of heavy rain pounding against the library windows. By the time my shift ended, the storm had grown fierce, the wind howling like it had something to prove.
I grabbed my bag and met Carrot by one of the tables she’d claimed. She had her nose buried in a novel, but when she saw me approach, she snapped it shut and stood up.
“All done?” she asked, slinging her backpack over one shoulder.
“Yep. You ready for your session?”
She nodded, following me to the study area.
Our tutoring session passed quickly, filled with quiet concentration and the occasional question. Carrot worked hard, as always, but she seemed distracted, stealing glances toward the windows every time thunder cracked. By the time we packed up, the rain outside had turned the campus walkways into rivers, the gutters overflowing under the relentless downpour.
Carrot pulled up the hood of her jacket as we stepped outside, her shoes already soaked from the puddles. “This weather is ridiculous,” she muttered.
I adjusted my bag over my shoulder, tugging my own hoodie tighter around my head. “Tell me about it.”
We reached the bus stop near the edge of campus, where the wind whipped at our clothes and the rain pelted sideways beneath the shelter’s overhang.
“Do you need a ride home?” Carrot asked suddenly, looking up at me with concern. “My brother should be here soon. You don’t have to wait out here like this.”
I shook my head, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“You sure?” She frowned, her eyes scanning my face. “You’ll get sick if you stand out here too long.”
“I’ll be okay,” I reassured her, though the damp chill was already sinking into my bones.
She studied me for a moment longer, clearly not convinced, but before she could argue, her brother’s car appeared, headlights cutting through the storm.
“That’s him,” she said, pulling her hood tighter. “Text me when you get home, okay? Promise?”
“Promise,” I said, waving her off.
I watched as she ran to the car, hopping inside quickly to escape the rain. Her brother pulled away moments later, leaving me alone at the bus stop.
I sighed, shifting my weight as the wind whipped through the empty streets, carrying the sharp chill of the storm, and of course the bus was late.
Home was waiting for me, but I lingered under the shelter, staring out at the rain. For a brief moment, I let myself wish I was anywhere else.
When the bus finally arrived, my stomach sank like a stone. I was dreading going home, and no amount of deep breathing or distraction could shake the heavy feeling that had taken up residence in my chest. I did my best to keep it together, trying not to fall apart in this very public setting. Once I reached the stop closest to my house, I stepped off and began the slow, reluctant walk through my neighborhood.
As my house came into view, I immediately noticed the porch was cluttered with a pile of stuff. For a brief moment, I thought maybe Mom was renovating another room. But as I got closer, the pit in my stomach grew heavier. The items weren’t random. They were familiar.
Too familiar.
By the time I reached the walkway, it hit me like a freight train: all my things, everything I owned, were stacked haphazardly on the porch, soaked through by the storm. The rain fell steadily, each drop a mockery of my life. I froze, staring at the heap of drenched belongings, my mind spinning to catch up with the sight in front of me.
I felt a bitter laugh bubbling in my throat, but it never came. Was this some sort of cosmic joke? First, I lost half my stuff to the basement flood. Now, the universe had decided to make an encore performance and drown the rest of my life on the porch.
It took a moment for the anger to arrive. The initial shock had to move aside to make room for it.
“What the fuck?” I muttered under my breath, rushing toward the pile in a desperate attempt to salvage something—anything. My voice grew louder as the realization set in. “What the fuck?!”
I yanked a box open and found my laptop buried underneath. The waterlogged device practically dripped as I pulled it out. When I opened it, water spilled out, short-circuiting any hope I had left of saving it. A choked noise escaped me, somewhere between a scream and a groan, before I threw the laptop to the ground in a fit of rage. It landed with a hollow crack, splitting in half but not shattering as I’d hoped.
All my things were ruined.
The anger boiled over, spilling into my movements as I dug through the pile. I began sorting through everything with a mix of fury and despair, tossing anything salvageable into a smaller pile while angrily hurling the ruined items aside. A soaked pillow, ruined. My textbooks, swollen and illegible. Clothes that reeked of damp and mildew, unsalvageable. The more I sorted, the more useless it all seemed. My life felt like it was disintegrating before my eyes, one piece at a time.
Then I stopped. My hands froze mid-motion, and I let the rain wash over me as the reality sank in. I couldn’t keep doing this. There was nothing left for me here, no room, no respect, no support.
Peter’s words echoed in my mind, unbidden but steady: “Why don’t you just stay with me?”
I glanced at my phone, the rainwater smudging the screen as I pulled it out of my pocket. My hands trembled as I scrolled through my contacts, stopping at Peter’s name. For a moment, I just stared at it, debating whether to press call.
This wasn’t the life I wanted. It wasn’t the path I had envisioned for myself. But right now, it felt like the only choice I had left.
Forcing down the anger clawing at my chest, I pulled out my phone and dialed Peter’s number. The line barely ringing before he picked up.
“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and casual, like he’d been waiting for me to call. “What’s up?”
“How soon can you pick me up?” My voice was calm, but my grip on the phone tightened as I stared at the mess in front of me.
There was a brief pause on his end. “Tonight?”
“Yeah,” I said firmly. “Tonight.”
“Send me the address,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll be there, as soon as I can.”
Hanging up, I leaned against a porch pillar, my mind racing. For once, I didn’t care what my parents thought or what Mandarin would say. I wasn’t going to spend another night pretending everything was fine.
Taking a deep breath, I sent Peter the address and headed inside to the kitchen to find some plastic bags to pack what little I could salvage. The house was quiet; everyone was likely in their rooms, blissfully unaware of how much my life was unraveling.
ifteen minutes later, I had a single garbage bag ready to go. I sat down on a porch chair, soaked from the rain, waiting for Peter.
The door creaked open behind me, and Mandarin waddled out, one hand on her swollen belly and the other clutching the doorframe for support. She surveyed the mess of my things strewn across the porch.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” she started, her voice dripping with fake regret. “Mom insisted it would be fine out here. Didn’t think it’d rain this hard.”
I ignored her.
“It’s okay, though,” she added, rubbing her belly with a satisfied smile. “Can’t have it too crowded for Junior here.”
“Right,” I said flatly. Deciding I wasn’t in the mood to let her get away with this, I added, “Funny how Junior’s daddy couldn’t even find a way to shelter his own kid. Instead, he shoves his little cumbucket into her parents’ house.”
Mandarin froze, her expression faltering. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me,” I said, standing and crossing my arms. “Who’s the father, Mandarin?”
“I—I told you,” she stammered, her voice rising defensively. “It was a one-night stand.”
“Bullshit.” I took a step closer. “I don’t know what ninth circle of hell your baby daddy is from for you to lie about him like this, but I’m onto your shit.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing as she tried to keep her composure. “You must think you’re so smart, huh?”
“I don’t think—I know,” I snapped. “And I know that if I dig deep enough, I’ll figure out who he is. And when I do? I’m blasting it everywhere, turd for brains.”
Mandarin’s frown deepened, and for a split second, there was a flicker of fear in her eyes. “You’ll never figure it out,” she said, her voice quieter now. “He won’t let you.”
“Why? Because he’s married?” I asked, my tone sharp and sarcastic.
Her silence told me everything. Her shocked expression, the way her mouth fell open just slightly, was all the confirmation I needed.
“Oh, you’re such a conniving bitch,” I muttered, more to myself than to her.
“What?!” she shrieked, her voice high-pitched and panicked.
“Fuck, Mandarin,” I said, shaking my head. “I always thought you were spoiled and selfish, but this? This is on another level.”
“I didn’t say anything!” she hissed, her eyes darting around like a trapped animal. She was looking for an escape or maybe for someone to come to her rescue.
“What the hell are you looking for?” I yelled, throwing my hands up.
“Shut up!” she whispered harshly, her voice trembling. “Someone will hear you.”
“You’re just terrible all around,” I said, disgusted.
“Girls, what’s going on out there?” Mom’s voice rang from inside the house.
“Nothing!” we both said in unison, Mandarin’s voice cracking under the strain. She turned back to me, her face pale.
“He’s not married,” she whispered urgently.
“But he’s something close to married, isn’t he?” I shot back.
Her guilty expression was answer enough.
“When I blow this up,” I said, lowering my voice to a cold, even tone, “I’m going to make sure I have all the evidence I need. I don’t need to go to Mom and Dad with some half-baked theory. Especially since it looks like you have no intention of stopping.”
“Clementine, please,” she begged, her voice breaking.
“Fuck you,” I said, stepping closer, my voice dripping with venom.
“Clementine, you don’t understand, he’s not someone you can mess with.”
“Oh, he sounds real important,” I sneered. “Does he have a lot of money?”
“Clementine!” she screeched, tears streaming down her face.
“What’s going on out here?” Mom’s voice cut through the air again, this time accompanied by the sound of footsteps. Dad followed closely behind her, his expression stern.
Mandarin immediately started crying harder, throwing herself into Mom’s arms. Dad turned his sharp gaze on me. “What did you do to her, Clementine?”
I said nothing, just stared back at him, the anger still burning in my chest.
I heard a honk and turned my head to see Peter's car idling at the curb. The trunk popped open, and Peter stepped out, making his way toward the porch.
“Peter?” Mandarin said, her tear-streaked face scrunching in confusion before her eyes widened with recognition.
Peter’s approach was casual, like this was an everyday occurrence. “Oh, hey, Mandarin,” he said with a friendly smile. “I didn’t know you lived here.”
“Um, excuse me, young man?” my mother cut in, her tone sharp and full of suspicion. “Who are you?”
Peter extended a hand toward her, undeterred by the frostiness in her voice. “I’m Peter Parker. Nice to meet you.”
My mother ignored his outstretched hand, her expression cold. I gave Mandarin one last glance before grabbing my bag and heading toward Peter’s car.
Peter quickly intercepted, taking the garbage bag from my hands. I noticed my broken laptop already in his other hand. “I’ve got it,” he said softly, his tone grounding me in the moment.
“Where are you going, young lady?” my father demanded, confusion flickering across his face.
“I’m leaving,” I said flatly, stepping off the porch. “There’s no room for me here, and I’ve found somewhere that is.”
“Oh, you’re just being dramatic,” my mother said dismissively, still clutching a tearful Mandarin in her arms like she was some tragic victim.
“You think you can get by without us?” my father barked, his voice rising.
I stopped in my tracks and turned back to face them, making sure they saw the resolve in my expression. “I’ve gotten this far without your help,” I said firmly. “I’m in school, I’m working, and I’m building a future for myself. So, yeah, I think I can manage.”
“Don’t be a brat,” my father snapped, his eyes narrowing.
Peter closed the trunk and moved to the driver’s seat, giving me a reassuring nod as I made my way to his car.
“Don’t come crawling back!” my father yelled after me.
I paused, turning my head just enough to deliver one final blow. “Enjoy your favorite whore daughter,” I shot back, my voice cold.
“Clementine!” my mother shouted, her voice cracking with indignation.
Peter was already at the passenger door, holding it open for me. He gave my family a polite wave before I slid into the seat.
As we drove off, I glanced out the window one last time. My parents stood frozen on the porch, their shocked faces a mixture of disbelief and anger. Mandarin’s face, tear-streaked and desperate, only made me scoff. She looked pathetic, clutching her belly as though she were the victim in all this.
I turned my gaze forward, leaving them—and everything they represented—behind me. Whatever was ahead couldn’t possibly be worse than what I was leaving behind. For the first time in a long time, I felt the faintest flicker of hope.
"How do you know Mandarin?" I asked, suspicion creeping into my tone.
Peter glanced at me briefly before turning his attention back to the road. "She’s one of Pepper’s friends."
I stayed quiet, waiting for him to elaborate.
"Whenever Tony throws a party, she usually tags alongside her," he added with a shrug, his tone casual.
I nodded slowly, digesting the information. "Right." A thought popped into my head, and I decided to press further. "By the way, do you know who got her pregnant?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral. "I figure it had to be someone in those upper circles you run in, right?"
Peter shrugged again, his expression unreadable. "I only ever see her with the other girls or Pepper. If she’s been seeing someone, she’s keeping it under wraps."
I sighed, leaning back against the seat. The more I thought about it, the more tiring the whole ordeal seemed. At the height of my anger, uncovering Mandarin’s baby daddy had felt like a mission, a way to expose her for the spoiled, manipulative brat she was. But now, the idea of digging into her secrets felt like more trouble than it was worth.
The exhaustion of the day weighed on me heavily, my eyelids growing heavier with every passing second. Before I knew it, I was slumped against the passenger seat, the hum of the car lulling me to sleep.
Dreams of blurry shapes and strange, oblong figures swirled in my mind, distant and incomprehensible. Somewhere in the haze of sleep, I could feel the tension of the day melting away, replaced by a fleeting sense of peace. For now, at least, I didn’t have to think about Mandarin, my parents, or anything else that had been weighing me down.
I really enjoyed the shackled series, could you do another Rafe series?
I do have another called Ladybug, as for another series altogether I have one planned, but I don't have an Outline for it, just a premise, that's a little farther out into the future.
Summary: Clementine has fought tooth and nail to achieve her dream of attending a prestigious university. Balancing her demanding workload, a suffocating home life, and financial strain, she’ll do whatever it takes to stay afloat. Enter Peter Parker: wealthy, charming, and unexpectedly fixated on her. When he offers a proposition that could solve all her problems, Clementine reluctantly agrees—unaware she’s stepping into a carefully constructed trap. What begins as a transactional relationship spirals into something far darker as Peter’s true intentions come to light.
Warnings: This story contains dark themes, including manipulation, psychological and emotional abuse, unhealthy relationships, non-consensual elements, obsessive behavior, gaslighting, loss of autonomy, familial neglect, and power imbalances. Please read at your own discretion.
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto
My knees pressed firmly into the mattress, toes flexed against the sheets as I anchored myself, rising and sinking in a steady rhythm. The burn in my legs was merciless, spreading with each controlled movement, but I embraced it. My hands gripped his thighs behind me for support as I leaned back, arching my body. The pull in my ankles and the ache deep in my core blurred into something intoxicating. Every rise brought me closer, my breaths stuttering, my muscles tightening as I gave in to the momentum, chasing that blissful peak.
Peter’s hands clutched at my hips, grounding me, pushing up every time I sank down. My whimpers tangled with his low grunts, building into a crescendo that finally shattered, a vivid burst of feeling. I collapsed against his chest, the two of us melting together as we came down, chests heaving, drenched in sweat.
“Wow,” he breathed, voice thick with exhaustion and awe. “You’re so perfect, you know that?”
A tired chuckle escaped me. I rolled off him and reached for my phone, still tethered to the charger. I’d heard it buzz earlier, but I was too preoccupied to care. The screen lit up with a series of texts.
Mandarin Hey loser, are you dead? Mom says you haven’t been home in a few days.
I scowled and replied before I could stop myself.
Me: Do you care?
Her response came quicker than I expected.
Mandarin: If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have texted.
I stared at the message for a moment before shutting off the screen. It’d been a few days since I took refuge at Peter’s place, and I hadn’t said a word to my parents or Mandarin. I wasn’t sure why she cared, but for once, silence felt like power.
These last few days with Peter had been...easy. For the first time in months, maybe years, I wasn’t carrying the weight of my family’s expectations or my endless to-do lists. I felt lighter, more like myself, and yet completely unlike myself. Nikki and Carrot had no idea I’d been staying with him. We hung out a once or twice since the frat party, but neither of them asked where I’d been, so I didn’t volunteer the information.
Peter, to his credit, hadn’t said a word either. But the way he looked at me on campus, like he couldn’t wait to pounce, spoke volumes. And when I came over at night, he did exactly that.
I was less stressed, less miserable, and more rested than I’d been since starting university. I could get used to this. I wanted to get used to this. But I knew I couldn’t.
Another text buzzed. I sighed and looked at the screen.
Mandarin: Dad called contractors to fix the leak in the basement. Mom wants your stuff out of the living room ASAP.
I groaned out loud.
“What’s wrong?” Peter asked softly.
I looked up to find him watching me, his eyes filled with concern.
“It’s nothing,” I muttered, sliding the phone face-down onto the nightstand.
“Hey, hey,” he said, sitting up and pulling me back into his arms. He nudged his nose against my cheek, planting a soft kiss just under my ear. “You can talk to me.”
I let out a slow breath, resting my head against his shoulder. “I think I have to go home tonight.”
“What? Why?” His voice sharpened with something that sounded almost like panic.
“They fixed the basement,” I said flatly. “And now my mom wants me to move my stuff out of the living room. Ill have to go tonight, so I guess this is our last day in paradise together.”
Peter pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. “So what, you’re just going to move back into that health hazard? With all the mold and God-knows-what-else?”
I stayed quiet.
During the short time I’d been here, I’d vented to Peter about my living situation more than I meant to. The way my parents dismissed me. The way Mandarin got everything handed to her. The utter unfairness of it all. I didn’t want his pity, but having someone listen, really listen, had felt like a weight off my shoulders.
A low rumble of thunder echoed outside, followed by a quick flash of lightning that lit up the bedroom. I glanced at the window before standing, more comfortable with my nudity as I stretched. “It’s not like I want to go back,” I admitted, “but what choice do I have?”
Peter watched me with an unreadable expression as I gathered up my things and headed toward the bathroom. “What choice do you have?” he repeated under his breath, his tone quiet but sharp.
I paused in the doorway, looking back at him. His brows furrowed, concern clouding his face.
“Don’t worry about it, Peter. I’ll figure it out,” I said before slipping into the bathroom.
As I closed the door, I leaned against it for a second, staring at the sleek tile floor. My reflection stared back at me from the mirror across the room.
I shook off my thoughts and stepped into the shower, trying to focus on the here and now. Peter had been more of a safe haven than I ever expected, but deep down, I knew it couldn’t last.
Moments into my shower, I heard the bathroom door creak open. My heart skipped for a second before the shower curtain shifted, and there stood Peter, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. His hair was a mess, strands falling over his forehead, and the boyish charm he carried so effortlessly was impossible to ignore.
“Mind if I join?” he asked, his tone casual, but the glint in his eyes told a different story.
I smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t see why not.”
What followed was another blur of heat and steam—more stolen kisses, hands exploring skin, and water cascading down our bodies as if trying to wash away whatever had brought us together in the first place. By the time we were finished, my legs were jelly, and Peter looked annoyingly satisfied with himself.
Wrapped in a fluffy towel, I padded into his bedroom and rummaged through the shopping bags neatly tucked away in his closet. Another bonus to staying with Peter: Gerald had apparently decided to stock the closet with clothes for me “just in case.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about being preemptively prepared for, but as I sifted through the luxury brands, Gucci, Chanel, Versace, I couldn’t bring myself to complain.
I tugged on a soft, oversized sweater and paired it with sleek leggings, all while Peter leaned against the closet door, arms crossed and a towel slung low around his waist. I could feel his eyes on me, a quiet intensity that made me pause mid-motion.
“What?” I asked, turning to face him.
He shrugged, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Nothing.”
“Then why are you staring at me like that?”
He hesitated for a moment, like he was choosing his words carefully. “Why don’t you stay with me?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“Stay here,” he said, unfolding his arms and stepping closer. “You don’t have to go back to that place. To them.”
“Peter…” I started, but he cut me off, his voice gentle.
“Listen, I know you think you can handle it, and you can. But you don’t have to. Not alone, anyway.”
I sighed, gripping the hem of the sweater. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” he pressed. “I have plenty of space, you’re already comfortable here, and I like having you around. Just think about it.”
The way he looked at me then, earnest and almost vulnerable, made me falter. For a moment, I considered it. The thought of not having to go back home, to the moldy basement, to Mandarin’s smug glances and my parents’ indifference, was tempting.
But as much as I wanted the escape, something in my gut held me back.
“I’ll think about it,” I finally said, hoping it would satisfy him for now.
Peter smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s all I’m asking.”
As he turned to grab clothes for himself, I exhaled, the air feeling heavier in my lungs. Deep down, I knew this was dangerous, not just staying here, but everything. Peter, his kindness, the luxury, the temporary reprieve from reality… it was all too good to be true.
Peter insisted on dropping me off at school.
Up until now, he’d been fine letting me walk, which I didn’t mind. What used to be an hour-and-a-half commute had turned into a 20-minute stroll, 25 if I stopped by the coffee shop. But this time, he insisted, even going so far as to have the valet park his car right outside 10 minutes before we left the building.
I relented, mostly because I figured he’d miss me. After all, this was my last day at his place. I’d packed up my books and grabbed the rest of my stuff that had been left behind in Nikki’s car, making sure to leave Peter’s tablet on his desk. I had no intention of coming back that evening.
The drive to school took less than five minutes, and Peter pulled right up to the main entrance. It was almost obnoxious how easy everything was when you had money.
“See you,” Peter said, shooting me a grin as I climbed out. “You’re welcome back anytime.”
“Bye,” I mumbled quickly, shutting the door behind me before he could say anything else.
Unfortunately, Carrot was there too—standing by the steps, eyes wide as she watched me step out of Peter’s luxury car.
“Uh, you’re here early,” I said, trying to deflect as I made a beeline toward her.
“Yeah,” she replied, still staring at the car. “I thought I’d keep you company at the library before our session today.”
“Right,” I muttered, gripping her arm and steering her away from the crowd of eyes I could feel burning into me.
Behind me, I heard Peter’s an obnoxious beep. I glanced back to see him waving with that same smirk plastered on his face. Carrot waved shyly in return.
“That’s Peter Parker,” she whispered, her voice low, as if saying his name out loud would make this moment any more surreal.
“Yep,” I said curtly.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as we crossed the threshold into the library. “Why were you in his car?”
“He gave me a ride,” I replied nonchalantly, placing my bag under the librarian station.
Carrot didn’t buy it. “Why?”
I turned to face her, keeping my expression calm. “Because I slept over at his place last night. Actually for the last few nights.”
Her jaw dropped. “Wait—what?”
I could already feel Magda, the school librarian, eyeing us like a hawk circling prey, so I grabbed a stack of returns and motioned for Carrot to follow me deeper into the shelves.
“Have you been staying there since the party?” she whispered urgently, trailing after me like she was piecing together a murder mystery. “That was a week ago!”
“Friday was the party,” I said, sliding a book back onto the shelf. “It’s Wednesday. It hasn’t been a week yet—just a few days.” I corrected
Carrot gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in shock. “Does Nikki know?”
I paused, glancing over at her puppy-dog expression. She looked so betrayed, as if I’d been keeping the country’s deepest secrets from her.
“No one knows, Carrot,” I said softly.
Her voice dropped even lower, like she was afraid someone might overhear us. “Why are you keeping it a secret?”
I shrugged, sliding another book onto the shelf. “I’m not. It’s just… no one asked.”
“How are we supposed to ask if we don’t know anything?” she said, exasperated.
I didn’t have a good answer for that. I stayed quiet, focusing on the books in front of me.
“Unless…” Carrot hesitated, her voice tinged with concern. “Unless you don’t want anyone to know?”
“It was only meant to be temporary,” I admitted, finally turning to face her. “Today’s my last day there. I’m going home tonight.”
She blinked at me, like she wasn’t sure whether to believe me or not. I tried to smile, but just saying the words made my stomach twist in knots.
Home.
Just the idea of it made me want to barf.
Look," I turned to Carrot, pausing to glance over my shoulder as I organized the stack of returns. “I didn’t mean to hold this back from you.”
She hovered nearby, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I get it,” she said quietly, her tone softer now. “It’s just… I didn’t expect it.”
I sighed, carefully placing another book on the shelf. “Yeah. Same here.”
“You should tell Nikki, though,” Carrot added after a beat, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her sweater. “I think she’d want to know.”
“I will,” I promised with a small smile.
Carrot nodded, seemingly satisfied, and turned to find herself a quiet spot in the library to wait for me. She’d told me earlier her brother was picking her up after our tutoring session, but for now, she was content to kill time and keep me company, at least from a distance.
I slipped back into the rhythm of my work, shelving returns, helping a student find a reference book, and manning the circulation desk. It wasn’t glamorous, but I liked the predictable routine of it. It gave me something solid to focus on when everything else felt like it was teetering on the edge.
As the hours crawled by, the weather shifted. What had started as a soft drizzle outside gradually transformed into a relentless downpour, the sound of heavy rain pounding against the library windows. By the time my shift ended, the storm had grown fierce, the wind howling like it had something to prove.
I grabbed my bag and met Carrot by one of the tables she’d claimed. She had her nose buried in a novel, but when she saw me approach, she snapped it shut and stood up.
“All done?” she asked, slinging her backpack over one shoulder.
“Yep. You ready for your session?”
She nodded, following me to the study area.
Our tutoring session passed quickly, filled with quiet concentration and the occasional question. Carrot worked hard, as always, but she seemed distracted, stealing glances toward the windows every time thunder cracked. By the time we packed up, the rain outside had turned the campus walkways into rivers, the gutters overflowing under the relentless downpour.
Carrot pulled up the hood of her jacket as we stepped outside, her shoes already soaked from the puddles. “This weather is ridiculous,” she muttered.
I adjusted my bag over my shoulder, tugging my own hoodie tighter around my head. “Tell me about it.”
We reached the bus stop near the edge of campus, where the wind whipped at our clothes and the rain pelted sideways beneath the shelter’s overhang.
“Do you need a ride home?” Carrot asked suddenly, looking up at me with concern. “My brother should be here soon. You don’t have to wait out here like this.”
I shook my head, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“You sure?” She frowned, her eyes scanning my face. “You’ll get sick if you stand out here too long.”
“I’ll be okay,” I reassured her, though the damp chill was already sinking into my bones.
She studied me for a moment longer, clearly not convinced, but before she could argue, her brother’s car appeared, headlights cutting through the storm.
“That’s him,” she said, pulling her hood tighter. “Text me when you get home, okay? Promise?”
“Promise,” I said, waving her off.
I watched as she ran to the car, hopping inside quickly to escape the rain. Her brother pulled away moments later, leaving me alone at the bus stop.
I sighed, shifting my weight as the wind whipped through the empty streets, carrying the sharp chill of the storm, and of course the bus was late.
Home was waiting for me, but I lingered under the shelter, staring out at the rain. For a brief moment, I let myself wish I was anywhere else.
When the bus finally arrived, my stomach sank like a stone. I was dreading going home, and no amount of deep breathing or distraction could shake the heavy feeling that had taken up residence in my chest. I did my best to keep it together, trying not to fall apart in this very public setting. Once I reached the stop closest to my house, I stepped off and began the slow, reluctant walk through my neighborhood.
As my house came into view, I immediately noticed the porch was cluttered with a pile of stuff. For a brief moment, I thought maybe Mom was renovating another room. But as I got closer, the pit in my stomach grew heavier. The items weren’t random. They were familiar.
Too familiar.
By the time I reached the walkway, it hit me like a freight train: all my things, everything I owned, were stacked haphazardly on the porch, soaked through by the storm. The rain fell steadily, each drop a mockery of my life. I froze, staring at the heap of drenched belongings, my mind spinning to catch up with the sight in front of me.
I felt a bitter laugh bubbling in my throat, but it never came. Was this some sort of cosmic joke? First, I lost half my stuff to the basement flood. Now, the universe had decided to make an encore performance and drown the rest of my life on the porch.
It took a moment for the anger to arrive. The initial shock had to move aside to make room for it.
“What the fuck?” I muttered under my breath, rushing toward the pile in a desperate attempt to salvage something—anything. My voice grew louder as the realization set in. “What the fuck?!”
I yanked a box open and found my laptop buried underneath. The waterlogged device practically dripped as I pulled it out. When I opened it, water spilled out, short-circuiting any hope I had left of saving it. A choked noise escaped me, somewhere between a scream and a groan, before I threw the laptop to the ground in a fit of rage. It landed with a hollow crack, splitting in half but not shattering as I’d hoped.
All my things were ruined.
The anger boiled over, spilling into my movements as I dug through the pile. I began sorting through everything with a mix of fury and despair, tossing anything salvageable into a smaller pile while angrily hurling the ruined items aside. A soaked pillow, ruined. My textbooks, swollen and illegible. Clothes that reeked of damp and mildew, unsalvageable. The more I sorted, the more useless it all seemed. My life felt like it was disintegrating before my eyes, one piece at a time.
Then I stopped. My hands froze mid-motion, and I let the rain wash over me as the reality sank in. I couldn’t keep doing this. There was nothing left for me here, no room, no respect, no support.
Peter’s words echoed in my mind, unbidden but steady: “Why don’t you just stay with me?”
I glanced at my phone, the rainwater smudging the screen as I pulled it out of my pocket. My hands trembled as I scrolled through my contacts, stopping at Peter’s name. For a moment, I just stared at it, debating whether to press call.
This wasn’t the life I wanted. It wasn’t the path I had envisioned for myself. But right now, it felt like the only choice I had left.
Forcing down the anger clawing at my chest, I pulled out my phone and dialed Peter’s number. The line barely ringing before he picked up.
“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and casual, like he’d been waiting for me to call. “What’s up?”
“How soon can you pick me up?” My voice was calm, but my grip on the phone tightened as I stared at the mess in front of me.
There was a brief pause on his end. “Tonight?”
“Yeah,” I said firmly. “Tonight.”
“Send me the address,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll be there, as soon as I can.”
Hanging up, I leaned against a porch pillar, my mind racing. For once, I didn’t care what my parents thought or what Mandarin would say. I wasn’t going to spend another night pretending everything was fine.
Taking a deep breath, I sent Peter the address and headed inside to the kitchen to find some plastic bags to pack what little I could salvage. The house was quiet; everyone was likely in their rooms, blissfully unaware of how much my life was unraveling.
ifteen minutes later, I had a single garbage bag ready to go. I sat down on a porch chair, soaked from the rain, waiting for Peter.
The door creaked open behind me, and Mandarin waddled out, one hand on her swollen belly and the other clutching the doorframe for support. She surveyed the mess of my things strewn across the porch.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” she started, her voice dripping with fake regret. “Mom insisted it would be fine out here. Didn’t think it’d rain this hard.”
I ignored her.
“It’s okay, though,” she added, rubbing her belly with a satisfied smile. “Can’t have it too crowded for Junior here.”
“Right,” I said flatly. Deciding I wasn’t in the mood to let her get away with this, I added, “Funny how Junior’s daddy couldn’t even find a way to shelter his own kid. Instead, he shoves his little cumbucket into her parents’ house.”
Mandarin froze, her expression faltering. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me,” I said, standing and crossing my arms. “Who’s the father, Mandarin?”
“I—I told you,” she stammered, her voice rising defensively. “It was a one-night stand.”
“Bullshit.” I took a step closer. “I don’t know what ninth circle of hell your baby daddy is from for you to lie about him like this, but I’m onto your shit.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing as she tried to keep her composure. “You must think you’re so smart, huh?”
“I don’t think—I know,” I snapped. “And I know that if I dig deep enough, I’ll figure out who he is. And when I do? I’m blasting it everywhere, turd for brains.”
Mandarin’s frown deepened, and for a split second, there was a flicker of fear in her eyes. “You’ll never figure it out,” she said, her voice quieter now. “He won’t let you.”
“Why? Because he’s married?” I asked, my tone sharp and sarcastic.
Her silence told me everything. Her shocked expression, the way her mouth fell open just slightly, was all the confirmation I needed.
“Oh, you’re such a conniving bitch,” I muttered, more to myself than to her.
“What?!” she shrieked, her voice high-pitched and panicked.
“Fuck, Mandarin,” I said, shaking my head. “I always thought you were spoiled and selfish, but this? This is on another level.”
“I didn’t say anything!” she hissed, her eyes darting around like a trapped animal. She was looking for an escape or maybe for someone to come to her rescue.
“What the hell are you looking for?” I yelled, throwing my hands up.
“Shut up!” she whispered harshly, her voice trembling. “Someone will hear you.”
“You’re just terrible all around,” I said, disgusted.
“Girls, what’s going on out there?” Mom’s voice rang from inside the house.
“Nothing!” we both said in unison, Mandarin’s voice cracking under the strain. She turned back to me, her face pale.
“He’s not married,” she whispered urgently.
“But he’s something close to married, isn’t he?” I shot back.
Her guilty expression was answer enough.
“When I blow this up,” I said, lowering my voice to a cold, even tone, “I’m going to make sure I have all the evidence I need. I don’t need to go to Mom and Dad with some half-baked theory. Especially since it looks like you have no intention of stopping.”
“Clementine, please,” she begged, her voice breaking.
“Fuck you,” I said, stepping closer, my voice dripping with venom.
“Clementine, you don’t understand, he’s not someone you can mess with.”
“Oh, he sounds real important,” I sneered. “Does he have a lot of money?”
“Clementine!” she screeched, tears streaming down her face.
“What’s going on out here?” Mom’s voice cut through the air again, this time accompanied by the sound of footsteps. Dad followed closely behind her, his expression stern.
Mandarin immediately started crying harder, throwing herself into Mom’s arms. Dad turned his sharp gaze on me. “What did you do to her, Clementine?”
I said nothing, just stared back at him, the anger still burning in my chest.
I heard a honk and turned my head to see Peter's car idling at the curb. The trunk popped open, and Peter stepped out, making his way toward the porch.
“Peter?” Mandarin said, her tear-streaked face scrunching in confusion before her eyes widened with recognition.
Peter’s approach was casual, like this was an everyday occurrence. “Oh, hey, Mandarin,” he said with a friendly smile. “I didn’t know you lived here.”
“Um, excuse me, young man?” my mother cut in, her tone sharp and full of suspicion. “Who are you?”
Peter extended a hand toward her, undeterred by the frostiness in her voice. “I’m Peter Parker. Nice to meet you.”
My mother ignored his outstretched hand, her expression cold. I gave Mandarin one last glance before grabbing my bag and heading toward Peter’s car.
Peter quickly intercepted, taking the garbage bag from my hands. I noticed my broken laptop already in his other hand. “I’ve got it,” he said softly, his tone grounding me in the moment.
“Where are you going, young lady?” my father demanded, confusion flickering across his face.
“I’m leaving,” I said flatly, stepping off the porch. “There’s no room for me here, and I’ve found somewhere that is.”
“Oh, you’re just being dramatic,” my mother said dismissively, still clutching a tearful Mandarin in her arms like she was some tragic victim.
“You think you can get by without us?” my father barked, his voice rising.
I stopped in my tracks and turned back to face them, making sure they saw the resolve in my expression. “I’ve gotten this far without your help,” I said firmly. “I’m in school, I’m working, and I’m building a future for myself. So, yeah, I think I can manage.”
“Don’t be a brat,” my father snapped, his eyes narrowing.
Peter closed the trunk and moved to the driver’s seat, giving me a reassuring nod as I made my way to his car.
“Don’t come crawling back!” my father yelled after me.
I paused, turning my head just enough to deliver one final blow. “Enjoy your favorite whore daughter,” I shot back, my voice cold.
“Clementine!” my mother shouted, her voice cracking with indignation.
Peter was already at the passenger door, holding it open for me. He gave my family a polite wave before I slid into the seat.
As we drove off, I glanced out the window one last time. My parents stood frozen on the porch, their shocked faces a mixture of disbelief and anger. Mandarin’s face, tear-streaked and desperate, only made me scoff. She looked pathetic, clutching her belly as though she were the victim in all this.
I turned my gaze forward, leaving them—and everything they represented—behind me. Whatever was ahead couldn’t possibly be worse than what I was leaving behind. For the first time in a long time, I felt the faintest flicker of hope.
"How do you know Mandarin?" I asked, suspicion creeping into my tone.
Peter glanced at me briefly before turning his attention back to the road. "She’s one of Pepper’s friends."
I stayed quiet, waiting for him to elaborate.
"Whenever Tony throws a party, she usually tags alongside her," he added with a shrug, his tone casual.
I nodded slowly, digesting the information. "Right." A thought popped into my head, and I decided to press further. "By the way, do you know who got her pregnant?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral. "I figure it had to be someone in those upper circles you run in, right?"
Peter shrugged again, his expression unreadable. "I only ever see her with the other girls or Pepper. If she’s been seeing someone, she’s keeping it under wraps."
I sighed, leaning back against the seat. The more I thought about it, the more tiring the whole ordeal seemed. At the height of my anger, uncovering Mandarin’s baby daddy had felt like a mission, a way to expose her for the spoiled, manipulative brat she was. But now, the idea of digging into her secrets felt like more trouble than it was worth.
The exhaustion of the day weighed on me heavily, my eyelids growing heavier with every passing second. Before I knew it, I was slumped against the passenger seat, the hum of the car lulling me to sleep.
Dreams of blurry shapes and strange, oblong figures swirled in my mind, distant and incomprehensible. Somewhere in the haze of sleep, I could feel the tension of the day melting away, replaced by a fleeting sense of peace. For now, at least, I didn’t have to think about Mandarin, my parents, or anything else that had been weighing me down.
This story contains themes of emotional manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, toxic relationships, and psychological control. It deals with difficult subjects such as forced dependency and mental/emotional abuse. Reader discretion is advised.
Description: Kiwi thought she had her life under control—until a chance invitation to the Maldives from her former friend pulls her into a web of manipulation and control. What starts as a luxurious vacation turns into a slow descent into captivity as Steve, the wealthy man funding her escape from reality, begins to tighten his grip on her life. Now trapped in a toxic relationship where affection becomes control, Kiwi must navigate a world where every decision is made for her, every boundary crossed, and escape seems impossible.
Is it too late to reclaim her freedom, or will she succumb to the life Steve has crafted for her?
The third week of the trip had started to blend into the rest, but the jet skiing adventure gave me a brief escape. The sun was high, the ocean stretched out like a never-ending canvas, and everyone else was way ahead, weaving through the waves like they were born on the water. I hung back, as usual, taking my time and keeping my speed steady.
But just as I started to feel a little more confident, the engine sputtered. My heart dropped as my jet ski slowed to a crawl, then died altogether, leaving me stranded in the middle of the ocean.
"Seriously?" I muttered, pressing a few buttons, trying to restart the engine. Nothing. Great.
I glanced around, hoping someone from the group would notice, but they were all too far ahead. I felt a wave of frustration rising through me. That’s when I spotted a familiar figure cutting through the water in my direction. Lloyd.
He pulled up next to me, his ever-present smirk in place. “Run out of juice already?” he teased, clearly amused by my predicament.
I rolled my eyes with a smile “Obviously.”
Lloyd chuckled and glanced around, his eyes scanning the empty stretch of water. “Well, lucky for you, I’m a gentleman,” he said, patting the back of his jet ski. “Hop on. I’ll give you a ride.”
“Alright, thanks,” I quipped
Since that first night we met, I’d been texting Lloyd more than I thought I would. At first, I was convinced he was just like the rest of them, another one of those rich kids I claimed to be wary of, another piece of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit with my life. But something about Lloyd was different. Maybe it was the way he joked with that dark humor of his, or the fact that he never seemed to take anything too seriously. Whatever it was, I found myself enjoying our late-night conversations more than I expected to.
When I wasn’t too drunk from another round of drinks with the group, I’d call him. It wasn’t anything deep, just simple talks about random things, how he hated how out of place he felt here, how I felt like I was stuck in a life that didn’t quite belong to me. In a weird way, we got each other, even though we came from completely different worlds. There was something about him that made me feel grounded, like I wasn’t completely adrift.
The more we talked, the more I started to look forward to his texts. It was like a small escape from the chaos around me.
As soon as I settled in, his next question caught me off guard. “So… where’s Steve?” His voice was casual, but the question made me stiffen.
Before I could respond, Steve’s jet ski came roaring up to us, cutting through the water with a spray of mist. The second he spotted me on the back of Lloyd’s jet ski, his entire demeanor shifted. The easygoing smile he usually wore vanished, replaced by something tighter. Possessive.
"Lloyd! What are the chances?" Steve called out, his tone too friendly, his voice louder than necessary as he pulled up beside us. His eyes flicked between me and Lloyd, his jaw clenching as if he was trying to grit his teeth through a smile.
"Yeah, what are the chances?" Lloyd echoed, though the smirk on his face remained firmly in place.
Steve’s gaze lingered on where I was holding onto Lloyd's waist, his hand twitching on the handlebar of his jet ski. The tension in the air was unmistakable, and for a second, it felt like I was intruding on some unspoken battle between the two of them.
"Kiwi," Steve said, his tone softening as he turned to me. "Your jet ski ran out of fuel?"
I nodded, feeling a little awkward now that I was the center of attention. “Yeah, it just... died. Lloyd was helping me out.”
Steve’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he responded. “Appreciate that, Lloyd.” He paused, his gaze hardening as it flicked back to Lloyd. “But I’ve got it from here.”
Without waiting for a reply, Steve reached over, his hand brushing my arm as if to help me off Lloyd’s jet ski. I stopped him.
"Hey, Steve, don’t worry about me," I said, forcing a smile, my heart beating a little faster than I’d like. "I think I’m gonna hang out with Lloyd a little bit."
Steve’s brow arched, and I saw his jaw clench ever so slightly. "You sure?"
I nodded, trying to play it off casually. "Yup. I’ll meet you guys back at the villa."
Steve’s eyes lingered on me for a beat too long, but before he could say anything, Lloyd piped up from behind me. "Cowabunga!" he shouted, revving the jet ski’s engine and speeding off, away from Steve.
The sudden burst of speed made me grip Lloyd’s waist tighter, laughing as we raced across the water. The wind whipped through my hair, the salty spray of the ocean splashing against my face. It was exhilarating. Everything with Lloyd felt easy, carefree, like I could just let go of all the tension and overthinking that usually bogged me down.
We zigzagged through the waves, occasionally catching small jumps that made me laugh even louder. Lloyd would glance back at me with that goofy, boyish grin of his, and I couldn’t help but smile every time.
At one point, he slowed the jet ski down, letting us coast along a more peaceful section of the coastline. The sun was starting to set, casting a golden glow over the water, turning everything soft and warm. We pulled up near a secluded beach, far enough from the main tourist areas that it felt like we were in our own little world.
Lloyd turned around, still grinning. "Not bad for a day out, huh?"
I chuckled, adjusting my grip on his waist. "Yeah, not bad at all. Way better than being stuck at the villa."
We sat there, just drifting along, talking about nothing and everything.
"You know, Kiwi," he said after a while, leaning back slightly so I could hear him over the gentle sound of the water, "I’m glad we’re doing this. I’ve been stuck in my own head since I got here, and you’re kinda making this whole thing... fun."
I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the sun. "Same here, Lloyd."
The rest of our little jet ski date felt like a blur of laughter, jokes, and moments where we just sat in comfortable silence, watching the ocean stretch out in front of us. For once, I wasn’t worried about Steve or what he thought. I wasn’t thinking about any of the baggage that usually weighed me down.
It was just me and Lloyd, two people who found a little bit of peace in each other’s company.
When I finally made it back to the villa, the air inside felt thick with tension the second I stepped through the door. Steve was lounging on the couch, but there was nothing relaxed about his posture,his jaw was tight, arms crossed, and his eyes locked on me the moment I entered. Natasha was pacing near the kitchen island, her lips pressed together in a thin line. The usual carefree atmosphere of the villa had been replaced by something... colder.
"Where the hell have you been?" Natasha snapped before I could even say anything, her voice a little too sharp.
I blinked, taken aback by the sudden hostility. "I was with Lloyd," I replied, trying to keep my tone even, though I could feel Steve’s gaze drilling into the side of my head. "We went jet skiing. I told Steve."
Natasha’s eyes narrowed, and she threw a quick glance in Steve’s direction before focusing back on me. "Lloyd? You barely know him, Kiwi! He’s a stranger. We don’t know anything about him, and you’re just running off with him like it’s nothing?"
I felt my pulse quicken, a defensive heat rising up my chest. "He’s not just some random guy. We’ve been talking since we met at the villa. He’s... he’s fine."
"Fine?" Natasha stepped closer, shaking her head. "Kiwi, you don’t know what people are capable of. You can’t just trust someone because they seem nice or make you laugh a few times." Her voice softened a little, but the frustration was still there. "You have no idea what his intentions are."
I clenched my fists, trying to keep my cool. "I’m not some naïve little girl, Natasha. I can take care of myself. I know when someone’s bad news, and Lloyd isn’t it." My voice wavered slightly as I spoke, but I held her gaze, unwilling to back down.
Natasha hesitated, glancing again at Steve. He hadn’t said a word, but his silence spoke volumes. He was pissed, that much was clear. The quiet anger radiating off him made me feel uneasy, like I had just walked into a trap I wasn’t even aware of. Natasha, noticing Steve’s lack of response, seemed unsure of how to proceed.
Steve finally stood up, and the movement sent a ripple of tension through the room. His eyes flicked to Natasha, silently dismissing her. She stepped back, arms folded, still watching me with that mix of concern and frustration.
Steve walked toward me, slow and deliberate, his gaze never leaving mine. When he finally stopped in front of me, his expression was hard to read. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if he was going to explode or just brush the whole thing off.
"You need to be careful, Kiwi," he said, his voice low, controlled. "I don’t want you getting hurt. People aren’t always what they seem."
It felt like a warning, like something unsaid was lingering beneath his words. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. "I know," I replied, my voice barely a whisper.
Steve studied me for a moment longer, his eyes scanning my face like he was looking for something, an answer, maybe, or some kind of reassurance. Then, without another word, he turned disappearing into his room.
The door clicked shut, and the silence in the villa felt suffocating. Natasha let out a long breath, rubbing her temples. "Look, just... be smart, okay?" she muttered, her earlier fire gone, replaced with a kind of resignation.
I didn’t say anything. I just nodded and headed to my own room, my mind swirling with thoughts I couldn’t quite sort out. Steve’s warning echoed in my head, but more than that, the way he looked at me, like I was fragile, like I needed protection, made my skin crawl.
It wasn’t until I was alone in my room, sitting on the edge of my bed, that I realized something felt off. The way Steve and Natasha had reacted to Lloyd.
As I lay down, pulling the covers over myself, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the carefree freedom I’d felt with Lloyd earlier that day was slipping through my fingers.
By the end of the third week, Tony got wind of a party happening at one of the nearby villas, and just like that, we were off.
The villa was buzzing with energy that night, music thumped through the walls, laughter spilled out from every corner, and the air was thick with the scent of tropical drinks and perfume. It was another party, another scene I never quite felt I belonged in, but I went along with it, trying to blend in with the group.
Steve, of course, had stuck to my side all night, possessively hovering like a shadow, making sure I didn’t stray too far. It was exhausting. I excused myself to grab another drink, slipping out from under his watchful eye and wandering into the crowd.
That’s when I saw him, Lloyd, standing near the back patio, his easy smile lighting up his face as he spoke to a group of strangers. He spotted me, and that smile only widened, sending a warmth through me that I hadn’t realized I needed.
"Well, if it isn’t my favorite jet ski partner," he teased as I approached, his voice dripping with the playful sarcasm I’d grown to enjoy.
I chuckled, the tension I’d been carrying with me all night melting away in his presence. “You better watch it,” I replied. “I might start to think you actually like me.”
Lloyd’s dark eyes sparkled with amusement, his crooked grin making my stomach flutter. “Maybe I do,” he said, his tone low but light. His teasing was always edged with something deeper, something that made my heart race in ways I hadn’t felt in a long time.
We wandered off to the quieter section of the party, near the beach where the sound of the waves mixed with the distant hum of the party.
“So, how’d you end up with Steve and the wealth squad?” Lloyd asked, half-smiling, his tone playful but curious. “I’ve been wondering that since we met,”
“University,” I answered, not really thinking about it. When he paused, waiting for more, I sighed and gave in to the full story. “I shared a class with Sharon. We sat next to each other, and she needed help with her assignments. So, I helped. Help eventually turned into me actually doing her assignments, and eventually Jane and Pepper’s.”
Lloyd raised an eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt.
“Natasha never needed help,” I added, almost like it mattered somehow. “Anyway, Sharon thought she could trade friendship for completed homework. And me, being as foolish as I was, allowed it.
Lloyd tilted his head, studying me for a moment. I could feel his gaze, but I kept talking, needing to get it all out.
“During my last year at University, I was overwhelmed, exams, projects, papers. You name it. And for some reason, Sharon couldn’t understand that I needed to prioritize myself. She felt betrayed, like I was supposed to keep sacrificing my sanity for her. So, she dropped me, just like that.”
Lloyd frowned, his brow furrowing as if trying to piece it all together. “That sucks, but… why are you here with them now?”
I shrugged, feeling the familiar weight of the answer pressing on me. “Sharon called me out of the blue, invited me on this trip. I declined at first, but things… weren’t going so great at home. I lost my job, had to move back in with my parents, and they were driving me insane. So, I caved. Figured one month in the Maldives was better than staying at home.”
Lloyd nodded slowly, leaning back against the railing, “Seems like you’ve been through it.”
“Yeah,” I sighed, glancing back at the crowd inside. “I guess you could say that.”
I didn’t know what I was expecting when I told Lloyd everything. Maybe I just needed someone to hear it without judgment. Without the baggage of knowing all the players involved. And somehow, Lloyd, with his laid-back charm and sharp sense of humor, made it easier to say out loud.
The silence between us lingered for a moment, comfortable yet loaded, before he spoke again. “Well, for what it’s worth, you don’t seem like the kind of person who needs to be hanging out with people like them.”
I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “Yeah, well, sometimes you just… end up where you are, I guess.”
At one point, he leaned in, brushing a lock of hair away from my face, his fingers grazing my skin. The touch sent a shiver down my spine, and for the first time in a while, I felt my breath catch in my throat.
Before we could go further, I felt it, the shift in the air, like a dark cloud had rolled in. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
Steve.
His presence was suffocating, a heavy weight that pressed down on me the moment he appeared. “Lloyd, what a coincidence,” Steve greeted him with that smile that didn’t reach his eyes. There was something colder, more calculated in his tone. He stepped closer, his gaze locked on me. “Mind if I borrow Kiwi for a second?”
"Does she want to be borrowed?" Lloyd’s voice was calm, yet irritated but the tension between them was almost palpable. I could feel his eyes on me, silently asking for confirmation.
The truth? I didn’t. I didn’t want to go anywhere with Steve. But deep down, I knew that Steve had no problem escalating a situation if it didn’t go his way. And I didn’t want to drag Lloyd into that mess. So, I laid my hand on Lloyd’s arm, a silent apology in my eyes as I told him, “I’ll be back.” I threw Steve a dirty look, hoping he'd understand this wasn't going to go the way he wanted.
Before I could move, Steve’s hand was already around my wrist, his grip firm, almost possessive. He pulled me aside, his expression unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed the calm exterior he was trying to maintain.
I yanked my arm back, glaring at him. Steve didn’t flinch, his grip tightening just enough to remind me who held the power.
“What are you doing with him?” Steve’s voice was low, controlled, but there was an edge that made my skin prickle. His grip on my wrist didn’t loosen.
I yanked my hand back, glaring at him. “I’m just talking to him, Steve. What’s your problem?”
“He’s not good for you, Kiwi-” His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing slightly. As if he was holding back.
I stared at him, anger rising in my chest. “You don’t get to decide who’s good for me, Steve. This isn’t your call.”
Steve’s smile returned, but it was colder now, the kind that sent chills down my spine. “Okay,” he said lightly, stepping back. His voice was casual, too casual. “I won’t get in your way.” He gave me a short nod before turning and walking back toward the villa.
I watched him go, relief washing over me, thinking that the confrontation was over. But deep down, something felt off. Steve had let it go too easily.
I returned to Lloyd, “Seems, like he needs a good pegging.” He said his humor cutting through the tension like a breath of fresh air, and I managed to shake off the strange encounter with Steve. For the rest of the night, I focused on Lloyd, laughing and joking as we wandered along the beach. It felt good…natural. For once, I didn’t feel like I was being suffocated by Steve’s presence.
But a few days later, everything changed.
Lloyd stopped texting. No calls, no messages. I tried reaching out, but my calls went straight to voicemail. It was like he’d vanished.
Worried, I went back to his villa, hoping to get some explanation. But when I got there, it was empty. A neighbor mentioned he’d left abruptly, something about family issues overseas, but it didn’t sit right with me. I wanted to believe it was just bad timing, but the nagging feeling in my gut told me otherwise.
Steve didn’t miss a beat. He swooped back into my life, acting as though nothing had happened, as though Lloyd’s sudden disappearance was just a coincidence. He was all concerned and caring, making sure I was "okay." His concern seemed genuine, but deep down, I knew the truth.
That night, I drowned my guilt in bottles, one after another, trying to numb the sick feeling churning in my stomach. I couldn’t stop thinking about Lloyd. What happened to him? Questions swirled in my mind, but the alcohol silenced them for a while, turning everything into a hazy blur.
Eventually, the weight of the night pulled me under, and I passed out, letting the booze take over completely.
When I woke up, my head was pounding, the light creeping through the curtains like needles stabbing at my skull. I groaned, rolling over in bed, but the movement made me realize something was off. My body was stiff, every muscle sore like I’d been through a marathon I didn’t remember running, and my skin felt so sticky.
I tried to stretch, but even that felt like a challenge, my limbs heavy and resistant. My mind was still foggy, disoriented from the drinks and... something else.
Sitting up slowly, I pressed my hands to my temples, trying to will the pounding headache away. The room was spinning slightly, the events of last night scattered like broken puzzle pieces in my brain.
I was in my own bed, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
I flopped back down on my bed, pulling the blanket up to my chin, trying to shake off the throbbing headache pounding through my skull. Staying in seemed like the best option today. I just hoped Steve wouldn’t give me a hard time about it, especially with how overbearing he’d been lately.
A knock came at the door, and before I could respond, Steve walked in holding a bowl of what looked like soup. I sat up slightly, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Peace offering,” he said with a small smile, placing the bowl on the nightstand for a moment. “I wanted to apologize... for, you know, how I’ve been acting on this trip.”
I blinked at him, unsure where this was going. My headache was making it hard to focus, but his tone seemed genuine.
Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just... I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, Kiwi. You’re a good friend, and I guess I’ve gotten a little... overprotective. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.”
He was full of so much shit. I wasn’t sure what to say, and in the haze of my headache, I couldn’t really be mad at him. I just needed to make it through this trip, since he refused to let me go back home, so I just played nice.
I gave him a tired smile, the best I could manage with my pounding head. “Thanks, Steve. I appreciate that.”
“Let me feed you,” he said suddenly, picking up the bowl of soup again.
“What?” I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to, just put it on the nightstand. I’ll drink it when I’m ready.”
Steve shook his head, already pulling up a desk chair beside me. “Nah, it’s best when it’s still warm. You need to get it in you now.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but honestly, I didn’t have the energy to argue. My head felt like it was splitting in two. I just sighed and let him lift the spoon to my lips. The soup was surprisingly good, and with each sip, I felt the warmth spread through my chest, easing the discomfort.
After a few spoonful’s, I glanced up at him. “Why don’t you take care of your other friends like this when they’re hungover?”
He chuckled. “Because hangovers aren’t a common thing for you, Kiwi. Figured you’re not used to this.”
I nodded. He wasn’t wrong. I rarely drank, and when I did, it was never enough to leave me like this. Reluctantly, I let him keep feeding me until the bowl was empty. My exhaustion was creeping in fast, making it hard to keep my eyes open.
“Get some rest,” Steve said softly, tucking the blankets around me and leaning down to kiss my forehead. “Things are about to get busy soon.”
I drowsily nodded, already half-asleep, as I felt the weight of the day pull me under. I drifted off, wondering what he meant by that, but too tired to care for now.
Our final week in the Maldives felt like a blur. I was constantly drifting in and out of consciousness, my body heavy, my words thick in my throat whenever I tried to speak. Everything felt... off. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong, but Bruce chalked it up to lethargy.
“You’re just not used to prolonged rest, Kiwi,” he explained one morning when I asked why I felt so sluggish. “This vacation has you in a constant state of rest. Once you get home and start working again, everything will balance out.”
I nodded weakly, hoping he was right. But something deep down told me this wasn’t just about too much rest. I felt trapped in my own body, like I was dragging myself through every day, unable to fully engage with anything or anyone.
Steve, ever the attentive one, waited on me hand and foot, giving me these green energy smoothies every morning. "It’ll help pick you up," he’d say with that confident smile of his. But after days of drinking them, I didn’t feel any better. In fact, I felt worse. I told him as much one day, mentioning what Bruce had said about lethargy and how this constant dragging feeling couldn’t be good for me.
“Don’t worry about it,” Steve replied smoothly, brushing off my concerns as he squeezed my hand. He kept that hand-holding thing going all week, dragging me around like I was some ragdoll. And I let him. I didn’t have the energy to resist. The thought of doing anything on my own felt impossible. I was just waiting for the vacation to be over, to escape the fog that had settled over me.
At night, I slept like a rock. But when morning came, my body still felt heavy, weighed down like someone had filled me with stones. The soreness lingered, making even the simplest movement feel like a chore.
Before I knew it, the vacation was over, and I was sitting next to Steve on his private jet, heading back home. I stared out of the window, my eyes glazed over, the hum of the plane’s engine doing nothing to soothe the anxiety bubbling inside me. I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it home. I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to stand once we landed, let alone call an Uber or deal with my parents.
The plane landed, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My body felt so heavy, and everything around me seemed to swim in and out of focus. I felt myself being shifted, my body moving without me fully realizing it. Someone was lifting me, but it was all so hazy, like I was watching it from somewhere far away.
“It’s okay, you’re fine,” a voice whispered near my ear. Steve’s voice.
I wanted to say something, to ask what was happening, but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate. Everything was slipping away from me, and I could only hope that whatever was happening... I’d wake up from it soon.
When the fog finally lifted, I found myself in a bed that wasn’t mine, in a room I didn’t recognize. The fancy digital clock on the nightstand glowed 10:53 a.m., and before I could fully comprehend what was happening, a pair of arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a warm body. My heart raced as I turned to see who it was, and there was Steve, eyes closed, snoring softly, his face inches from mine.
I blinked, trying to shake off the remaining haze. “Steve?” I called out, nudging him slightly. “Steve, wake up.”
He stirred, stretching with a loud yawn before cracking open one eye. "Morning," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
“Where... where am I? What’s going on?” I asked, my voice still groggy but clearer than it had been in days.
Steve stretched again, his arm lazily draping across me. “You knocked out on the plane,” he explained. “So, I brought you to my house. I didn’t know where you lived.”
I sat up a little, still disoriented. “Why didn’t you just look at my ID?”
There was a pause, then a look of realization flashed across his face. “You know, I didn’t think of that.
I blinked at him, feeling a strange mixture of exhaustion and clarity wash over me. Something didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I glanced down, suddenly noticing that I was wearing one of the nighties I’d packed for the vacation, with no underwear, sticky skin and sore muscle. My eyes darted to Steve, and that’s when I realized he was only in his boxers.
“Steve...” I started slowly, “who changed my clothes?”
He gave me an incredulous look, raising an eyebrow as if the question was ridiculous. “You did,” he said matter-of-factly.
I froze. I didn’t remember that. Not even a little. But what reason did I have to doubt him? My mind still felt like it was piecing itself back together after the past week.
I swallowed hard, nodding slightly, though the knot in my stomach grew tighter. “Okay... then why are you in your boxers?”
Steve smirked, giving a nonchalant shrug. “I usually sleep naked when I’m in my own bed. But I put on the boxers, you know, as a courtesy.”
I nodded again, more out of reflex than understanding. “Right...” I muttered, pushing the covers off me and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “Where’s your bathroom?”
Steve pointed lazily to a door in the corner of the room, where the window met the wall. I wasted no time getting up and heading toward it, my head buzzing with too many thoughts to process.
As soon as the bathroom door closed behind me, I leaned against the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I felt a panic rising in my chest. I didn’t remember changing. I didn’t remember much of anything after that last week. And now I was in Steve’s house, in Steve’s bed... with Steve.
I pressed my palms against the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess, and my eyes were still heavy with exhaustion.
I blinked a few times, trying to process everything. How did I end up here? And in my nighty, no less? It didn’t add up. The last clear memory I had was from the plane. Everything after that was a foggy blur.
"Okay, Kiwi, calm down," I whispered to myself. "You can figure this out."
I shook my head, trying to focus. I needed to get out of here. I needed to clear my head and figure out what was really going on. But as I stared at my reflection, my gut twisted with uncertainty.
I couldn’t just ignore the way Steve had been acting over at the Maldives, how close he had gotten, how possessive he seemed. And now this? Him brushing off that he didn’t know where I lived? When I was sure it would take nothing to figure out.
I splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would wake me up from this strange feeling that seemed to linger. I had to get a grip on the situation.
When I walked back out, Steve was still lying in his bed, stretched out, looking way too comfortable. "You, okay?" he asked, his voice lazy, like none of this was out of the ordinary.
I forced a smile. "Yeah, just needed a minute."
"Good," he replied, sitting up and stretching. "We’ve got breakfast downstairs if you’re hungry."
I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything more.
Steve moved from the bed, stretching his arms with a casualness that made my skin crawl. He grabbed a robe from a nearby chair and slid it on before turning to me, his eyes lingering on me just a second too long. It wasn’t subtle, he looked me up and down before pulling out another robe and handing it to me.
“Here, put this on,” he said, his tone soft but something about it made me feel like I didn’t really have a choice.
I slipped it on, trying not to think too much about his gaze. The fabric was smooth, probably the most expensive thing I’d ever worn. But it didn’t feel comforting; it felt like a reminder of just how far out of my element I was.
Before I could say anything, Steve was by my side, grabbing my hand in a way that was far too intimate. His grip was firm, not forceful, but it left me no room to pull away. He led me out of the room, his massive mansion unfolding before me as we moved through the wide corridors.
The grand staircase was as intimidating as it was beautiful, spiraling down into what felt like the heart of the house. My mind was still spinning from everything, how I’d ended up here, the fog that had clouded my memory for what felt like weeks, and now, Steve’s hand holding mine felt like it was tethering me to this strange reality.
We descended into the dining room, which was, of course, massive. The table was already set, food arranged like we were about to attend a banquet. I could smell eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, and some other dishes I didn’t even recognize. It all looked like something straight out of a magazine.
Steve pulled out a chair for me, still holding that unreadable expression on his face. I sat down slowly, trying to process everything. He slid into the chair right next to me, far closer than necessary, and for a second, I felt the weight of his presence more than the meal in front of me.
“Go ahead,” Steve said, gesturing to the food. “You need to eat after the week you’ve had.”
I swallowed hard, my appetite completely gone despite the feast in front of me. But I picked up a fork anyway, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. I had no idea how I was going to make it through this breakfast, or what Steve expected from me next.
Steve picked up a small tart and brought it toward me. I reached out to grab it, but just as my fingers brushed it, he pulled it away, holding it in front of my mouth instead, his eyes expectant. The gesture was so casual, like this was normal, so I awkwardly leaned forward and allowed him to feed me. The tart was sweet, but I barely tasted it, my discomfort overpowering everything else.
He set the other piece down and resumed eating his own meal as if nothing strange had just happened. I, on the other hand, felt my shoulders tense up as I silently chewed, trying to make sense of what this morning was becoming.
After a few moments of silence, Steve spoke again, this time in a tone that made me wary. "So, I have news."
I glanced at him, unsure what to expect. "Okay..." I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I spoke to my father," Steve began, "and unfortunately, he's not interested in hiring for any entry-level positions in his finance department right now."
The news hit me like a brick. My stomach dropped, I had forgotten that I asked him to do that, and though I knew it was good that I didn’t have to stick around Steve, I really could have used that job. My shoulders slumped as that familiar wave of defeat washed over me.
But before I could sink any deeper into that feeling, Steve’s hand was on my cheek, gently caressing my skin. “Hey, don’t look so down. I’m not done yet,” he said, his voice soft but commanding. “I managed to get you an opportunity elsewhere. Proper salary, full benefits.”
I perked up, my heart lifting at the words. “Really?” I asked, excitement creeping in. I hadn’t expected a follow-up.
Steve smiled, the kind of smile that felt both comforting and unsettling at the same time. “Yeah, really. You know my father’s been mentoring me to take over his company, right? Well, next quarter, I’ll have a proper position. And with that position, I’m going to need a few resources.” He paused, his smile widening. “Congratulations, you’re going to be my new PA.”
I blinked, the words not quite sinking in at first. “Personal assistant?” I repeated, taken aback. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I thought of a job with a ‘proper salary.’ But then again, I was in no position to be picky.
“Personal assistant,” he confirmed, nodding.
I sat there, unsure of how to feel. The idea of working directly under Steve made me uneasy, especially after everything that had happened on this trip. But at the same time... I couldn’t afford to turn this down. Not now. Not with my parents breathing down my neck, and no other job prospects on the horizon. Maybe, just maybe, this could lead to something more. Soon, enough I’ll find myself in a position where I’ll no longer need Steve and I could just leave.
“So,” Steve said, interrupting my thoughts, “what do you think?”
I hesitated, taking a deep breath before nodding. “Okay,” I finally said, unsure of whether I was convincing him or myself.
Steve clapped his hands together, his excitement palpable. “Awesome. We’ll get you set up before the start of the new quarter, then.”
He picked up the rest of the tart he’d fed me earlier and brought it to my lips again. I leaned forward to take a bite, but a small drop of fruit glaze fell onto my chin. Before I could react, Steve wiped it away with his thumb and, without breaking eye contact, licked it off.
Summary: Clementine has fought tooth and nail to achieve her dream of attending a prestigious university. Balancing her demanding workload, a suffocating home life, and financial strain, she’ll do whatever it takes to stay afloat. Enter Peter Parker: wealthy, charming, and unexpectedly fixated on her. When he offers a proposition that could solve all her problems, Clementine reluctantly agrees—unaware she’s stepping into a carefully constructed trap. What begins as a transactional relationship spirals into something far darker as Peter’s true intentions come to light.
Warnings: This story contains dark themes, including manipulation, psychological and emotional abuse, unhealthy relationships, non-consensual elements, obsessive behavior, gaslighting, loss of autonomy, familial neglect, and power imbalances. Please read at your own discretion.
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto
Series Masterlist
Peter’s place wasn’t at all what I had imagined—not that I’d given it much thought before. The two doormen at the front should have been my first clue that this wasn’t your average apartment. When he opened the door and led me inside, it felt like I had stepped into one of those homes featured in Architectural Digest. The kind reserved for the ultra-wealthy, not for a regular college student.
The entryway alone was impressive, with sleek marble floors and modern art hanging on the walls. As we walked further, I found myself surrounded by so much space that it was almost unsettling. This wasn’t just an apartment; it was a penthouse.
“Would you like anything to drink?” Peter asked, pulling me from my thoughts. “I’ve got tea, coffee, soda, juice... water?” He gestured toward a hall that seemed to lead to the kitchen.
“Water’s fine,” I said, following behind him, unsure whether I felt impressed or out of place.
“Make yourself at home. The living room’s just through there,” he said, pointing to an open space before disappearing into the kitchen.
The living room was intimidating in its own way. Sleek leather furniture and glass tables gave it a bachelor pad vibe, but the carefully curated touches—plush throw pillows, elegant vases, and soft lighting—hinted that an older woman had been involved in decorating. Maybe his mom or grandmother.
Massive windows overlooked the city skyline, offering a breathtaking view that felt surreal.
“Your place is huge,” I called out, still taking everything in. Did he really need this much space? It felt excessive, even for someone like Peter.
“Yeah,” he said, stepping out of the kitchen with a glass of water in one hand and a mug in the other. “My parents insisted. They were worried about my safety and comfort.”
I raised an eyebrow as I took the water from him. “Comfort? What do they think happens in dorms, survival of the fittest?”
He laughed lightly, settling into the couch, placing his mug onto the coffee table and motioning for me to join him. “Something like that. They wanted me to have my own space so I wouldn’t have to deal with, you know, the usual college stuff.”
I couldn’t help but scoff. “You mean other people?”
“Exactly,” he said with a smirk.
I sipped my water, my eyes wandering around the room again. Everything about this place radiated wealth, from the subtle branding on the throw blankets to the polished wood paneling lining the walls. It was impressive, but it was also a stark reminder of the enormous gap between Peter’s world and mine.
I couldn’t even get my parents to call a plumber to fix the leak in the basement they dumped me in, and here was Peter, living a life of luxury at his parents’ insistence.
“So, what do you think?” he asked, watching me carefully.
“It’s... a lot,” I admitted “Not what I expected.”
He tilted his head slightly. “And what did you expect?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Something more lived-in. This feels like a catalog.”
Peter chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “You’re not wrong. My Aunt May and her decorator had way too much fun with this place. I’m usually always out, so I haven’t really marked this place as my own.”
I nodded, unsure of what else to say. This world he lived in was so far removed from mine that I couldn’t even begin to relate, but at least he seemed self-aware.
As I sank into the couch, I let myself relax for the first time in months.
"Would you like to watch a movie?" Peter asked, his voice casual but his expression anything but. The look in his eyes told me he didn’t want the night to end, and if I were honest with myself, neither did I.
Tomorrow was Saturday, my usual routine of leaving early for the library, attending an afternoon class, and then tutoring Peter himself. For once, the thought of lingering felt more appealing than rushing back home.
"What did you have in mind?" I asked, meeting his gaze.
Peter shrugged, flashing an easy grin. "I’ve got Netflix, Hulu, HBO, Disney Plus, anything you want. And if I don’t have it, I can get it."
I rolled my eyes, smiling despite myself. "Your house, your pick."
"Ah, but you’re the guest, so you have to pick," he countered, his grin widening.
I chuckled softly. "Seriously, I don’t care. I’m just happy to finally relax for once. Whatever you put on is fine with me."
Peter nodded and scrolled through Netflix before selecting something from the top picks. He stood to dim the lights, the glow of his massive TV illuminating the room as he settled back onto the couch, this time a little closer.
I took a sip of my water, setting it on the small end table beside me. For a while, we sat in silence, the sound of the movie filling the space. I felt his arm shift behind me, casually resting on the back of the couch.
I wasn’t oblivious. I knew Peter had an interest in me, it had been clear for some time now. But I also knew it would be in both our best interests to keep him at a distance. Yet, as I glanced over at him, something was different. Maybe it was the soft glow of the screen highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline or the way his smirk tugged at the corner of his lips when he caught me looking.
“What?” he asked, his voice teasing.
I hesitated, my mind racing. Was it the vulnerable place I was in mentally, after months of unrelenting stress? Or was it the fact that, for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel entirely hopeless?
I decided to set the bait.
And if he didn’t take it, I’d leave.
Leaning forward, I pressed a quick, soft peck to his lips. His eyes widened in surprise, confusion flickering in them as he searched mine for an answer.
I leaned in again, this time lingering a little longer. He hesitated at first, his posture stiff, but then he leaned in too.
Just as I started to pull away, his arm moved from the back of the couch to cradle the back of my head. He deepened the kiss, his other hand sliding to my waist as he pulled me closer. The warmth of his touch contrasted sharply with the cool indifference I’d been holding onto for so long.
For the first time in weeks, I let myself stop thinking.
Peter’s hands slid to my hips, guiding me over him until I was straddling his waist. The shift in position made me acutely aware of the hard bulge pressing against me through his jeans. A mix of nerves and curiosity shot through me, but I didn’t stop. Instead, I shifted slightly, pushing against him experimentally.
Peter broke the kiss with a sharp hiss, his head falling back against the couch. His hands tightened on my hips, holding me still as if he was trying to rein himself in. His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling beneath me.
"This feels like a dream," he murmured, his voice low and filled with awe, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.
Leaning forward, I brushed my lips against his ear, my voice a soft whisper. "Then let’s try not to wake up."
His hands gripped me a little tighter, and before I could pull away, he tilted his head back toward me, capturing my lips in a kiss that felt more intense, more consuming. It was as though he was afraid the moment might slip away if he didn’t hold onto it tightly enough.
Carefully, Peter stood, still holding me in his arms, and gently laid me back on the couch, positioning himself over me. His eyes searched mine, almost as if asking for permission one more time without words. I answered by reaching up, pulling him closer, and reconnecting our lips.
Clothes began to come off in a flurry of hurried hands and nervous excitement. When we were finally bare, Peter paused, breaking the kiss to look down at me. His expression was soft, almost reverent, as he traced a hand lightly over my cheek.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and steady, but the slightest tremor of vulnerability cracked through.
I nodded, my breath hitching. "Yes."
He let out a deep, shuddering breath, his body visibly relaxing as if he’d been holding in the weight of the world. Then, with deliberate care, he aligned himself and slowly entered me. A gasp escaped my lips, a deep sigh of pleasure as the sensation of fullness took over. His lips found mine again, soft and reassuring, before moving to trail kisses along my jawline and down my neck.
He held me close, his movements tender but deliberate, each stroke sending waves of pleasure rippling through my body. The Netflix movie we’d been watching was now just a forgotten hum in the background, white noise to accompany the symphony of our breathing and soft moans. Peter moved with an unhurried rhythm, his confidence smooth but not overbearing.
I wrapped my legs around him instinctively, drawing him closer, urging him to go deeper. He responded immediately, his pace quickening, his control slipping as his movements grew more erratic. The heat between us built steadily, the pressure mounting with each thrust.
I could feel it. The end creeping closer, a tantalizing edge calling me to leap. My breath came in shallow gasps, my body trembling under his as Peter’s own resolve began to waver. His grip on my body tightened, his head dipping to press his forehead against mine as we both climbed higher, lost in the moment.
When the climax finally hit, it was like a tidal wave crashing over me, leaving me breathless and weightless all at once. My fingernails dug into his back as a sharp cry escaped my lips, my body arching into his. Peter followed seconds later, his own release washing over him with a deep, guttural groan. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his body trembling as he shuddered through the intensity of his orgasm.
We stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other, letting the aftershocks subside. Peter lifted his head, his eyes searching mine with a softness that made my chest ache.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but filled with genuine concern.
Still dazed and recovering from the high, I gave him a dopey smile. "I’m perfect."
He chuckled, the sound low and warm as he leaned down to plant another kiss on my lips. "Yes, you are," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face before pulling me into his arms.
The next morning, I woke up in Peter’s arms, both of us completely nude. The events of the night before had stretched well into the early hours, culminating in us finally crashing in his bedroom.
Peter held me close, and I found myself focusing on the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the light rhythm of his breathing. Outside of the pleasant soreness in my body, this was easily the best sleep I’d had in weeks.
I turned my head toward the clock on his nightstand. I’d already missed my morning study session, but if I hurried, I could still make it to my afternoon class. Groaning softly, I shifted to sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and stretching to shake off any lingering exhaustion.
The movement roused Peter. He stirred, blinking at me groggily before giving me a lazy, lopsided smile.
“Hey, you,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “How are you feeling?” He stretched his arms overhead, letting out a satisfied yawn.
“I’m feeling great, actually,” I replied, smiling despite myself. “Better than I have in a while.”
“Good to hear.”
He leaned in to kiss my temple, his lips warm against my skin, before pulling back the blanket covering him and hopping out of bed.
“So, I was thinking,” he started, standing stark naked in front of me without a hint of self-consciousness, “we could order in for breakfast. Maybe have a chill morning?”
It was then I remembered my plans for the day. “About that,” I said hesitantly, still clutching the blanket around me, as I stood to face away from him and his nudity. “I actually have to go home and get ready for my afternoon class. And…” I added, pointing toward his general direction with my finger, “we still have a tutoring session later, don’t forget.”
Peter moves to stand in front of me, an amused grin on his face as he stepped closer. “You don’t need to go home for that.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He placed his hands lightly on my hips, making it impossible not to look at his face. “I had Gerald pick up a Plan B pill for you this morning—”
“Wait, who’s Gerald?” I interrupted.
“My butler,” he said nonchalantly. “He’s from a legacy of butlers. He handles the house and anything else I might need.”
I blinked. A butler? A legacy of butlers? How absurd.
“Anyway,” he continued, as though he hadn’t just dropped that bombshell, “he also grabbed some clothes for you, so if you want, you can stay here, take a shower, and head straight to class. The university’s only twenty minutes away on foot, but I can drop you off myself if you’d prefer.” he starts rubbing his thumbs into my hips “Save you about 15 minutes or so.”
“I still need to get my laptop from home.”
“Do you use cloud storage for notes and texts?” he asks
“Well, Y-yeah, b-but.”
“I have iPad’s, laptops, and tablets. Take your pick and just login.”
How convenient. I hesitated, trying to decide if I was comfortable with this level of generosity.
Peter leaned in closer, his hands still firmly on my hips, his face softening into an imploring expression. “Please? Stay for breakfast.”
“I don’t know,” I said, biting my lip. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“You’re not intruding,” he said smoothly. “You were invited.”
When I looked up, he was giving me the most ridiculous set of puppy dog eyes. I sighed, feeling my resolve crumble under his gaze.
“Alright,” I relented, laughing softly. “I guess I can stay a little longer.”
“Perfect,” he said, his grin brightening as he leaned down to kiss me, warm and lingering.
The kiss caught me off guard. It wasn’t like we hadn’t been intimate all night, but something about the softness, the casual affection of it, left me feeling... awkward. Maybe it was because, for all the physical closeness we’d shared, this moment felt unexpectedly intimate in a way I wasn’t used to.
Peter moved toward a drawer near the corner of the room, rummaging through its contents while I stood there clutching the blanket to myself, unsure what to do. He pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, walking back to hand them to me.
“Here,” he said with a small smile. “Figured you wouldn’t want to walk around the house naked.”
I nodded, taking the clothes from him. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” he replied, turning back to find something for himself in the same drawer.
“Uh, Peter?” I started, hesitating.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I added quickly, not wanting him to misinterpret my question. “I need to use the bathroom,” I clarified, hoping to wipe away any doubts about my comfort. I didn’t need him thinking I was regretting anything.
The uncertainty on his face disappeared instantly, replaced by that easygoing grin. He pointed to a door adjacent to the bed. “Right there.”
“Thanks,” I said, shuffling toward it, still clutching the blanket as if it were my armor. I stepped inside, shutting the door firmly behind me and making sure the lock clicked into place before exhaling deeply.
The bathroom was massive, sleek, and impossibly clean—practically showroom-ready, save for a hamper overflowing with clothes in one corner, a toothbrush and toothpaste perched on the counter, and a half-filled garbage bin. The cool marble tiles underfoot and the sheer size of the space made the bathroom look like a utopia.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror above the sink, running a hand through my disheveled hair. For a moment, I let myself take in the surrealness of it all. The previous night, I was curled up on a couch in my parents’ home, dreaming of a way out. Now, I was standing in a bathroom big enough to fit my entire makeshift room in the basement.
I shook my head, pushing the thoughts aside. Dwelling on it wouldn’t change anything. After relieving myself and tidying up, I grabbed Peter’s t-shirt and boxers, slipping them on. They were far too big, but the soft fabric and faint scent of his cologne were oddly comforting.
When I emerged, Peter was sitting on the edge of the bed, now fully dressed in a fitted shirt and grey sweatpants, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when I stepped out, his smile warm and immediate.
“You look good,” he said, gesturing to his clothes on me.
I laughed lightly, tugging at the hem of the oversized shirt. “Thanks. Not exactly high fashion, though.”
“High fashion is overrated,” he quipped. “You pull it off.”
His casual compliment left me a little flustered, but I quickly changed the subject. “So, breakfast?”
“Breakfast,” he confirmed, standing and offering me his hand. I hesitated for a second before taking it, letting him lead me out of the room.
I walked out of my afternoon class and headed toward the campus café to grab a Gatorade, still marveling at the outfit I was wearing. Luxury from head to toe—Prada dress, matching purse, and even a pair of designer shoes that felt like walking on clouds. It wasn’t that I’d never worn or seen luxury items before, but having them bought for me, on a whim, was something else entirely.
When Peter’s butler, Gerald, handed me the bag this morning, I half-expected to find something generic from Macy’s—a simple one-size-fits-all dress. Instead, I’d been met with pure couture, along with a small assortment of fancy shower items, as if I were a visiting dignitary.
Compliments followed me all day, even on a relatively empty campus. A few lingering looks from passing students, nods of approval, and whispered envy. It was new, and while part of me enjoyed it, another part felt a little exposed.
Gerald, for his part, had been exactly what I expected from a butler: stoic and professional. Yet, he had this warmth to him, calling Peter "Master Peter" and me "Miss Clementine," which took me completely by surprise. Hearing someone older and wiser address me so formally was jarring, but oddly, it didn’t feel patronizing. Just... proper.
As I left campus, heading back to Peter’s place for our tutoring session, I heard a familiar beep. Peter was parked at the curb in his car, waving me over.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said as I opened the passenger door and slipped in.
“Of course, I did.” He grinned, his boyish charm on full display. “Aunt May would’ve killed me if she found out I made a girl walk all the way back to my apartment.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
“Oh, by the way,” he added, “the frat guys found Nikki’s keys. Turns out they were in the punch bowl.”
I wrinkled my nose. “How unsanitary.”
“Tell me about it. But don’t worry, Gerald and I got her car back to her safe and sound. I also grabbed your things.”
He gestured to the backseat, where I saw my bag and some books neatly stacked.
“What about Carrot’s stuff?” I asked.
“Got hers back to her too,” he said nonchalantly.
“How?”
He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, Nikki’s address was on her car insurance card. As for you and Carrot, I... might’ve snooped a little to figure out what belonged to who.”
Weird, but practical.
I blinked, unsure how to feel. “I guess I’m just not used to people going out of their way like that.”
Peter’s smile softened. “Well, you should get used to it. Gerald’s cooking steak tonight, by the way. Any chance you’d want to stay for dinner after our tutoring session?”
How odd but steak sounded good. I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
The tutoring session went smoothly as usual. Gerald busied himself in the kitchen while Peter and I worked through the material at the dining room table. When we finished, I couldn’t resist asking a question that had been lingering in my mind.
“Why do you keep requesting tutoring sessions with me when you clearly don’t need them?”
Peter’s face flushed pink as he fumbled for an answer. “Well—”
“Because of me, Miss Clementine,” Gerald interrupted, appearing with two plates. He set them down in front of us before continuing. “Master Peter is the heir to a very important company, and I believe that no matter how much he may already know, nothing beats consistent practice. In fact, I’m the one who hired you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Tony Stark didn’t finish school. He seems to be doing fine running, at least half, of the company without all this extra tutoring.”
Gerald placed his own plate at the table and sat down. “What works for one may not work for another, Miss Clementine. Mr. Stark had to step into his role prematurely after the tragic demise of his parents. Had they lived, I assure you, he would have completed his education.”
Peter’s blush deepened, and I couldn’t help but smirk at his embarrassment.
When dinner was finished, Gerald collected the plates, and I packed up my things, returning a tablet I’d borrowed from Peter earlier.
“Why don’t you stay a bit longer?” Peter asked, his voice tinged with something hopeful.
“I need to get home,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.
“Gerald made banana pudding? ” Peter teased, his grin widening.
From the kitchen, Gerald called out, “Best banana pudding you’ll ever have, Miss Clementine.”
I hesitated. Banana pudding was my weakness, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.
“I don’t know...”
Peter’s expression softened. “Look, I don’t mean to pry, but you seem miserable at the idea of going home. Stay here for a bit. You’re not doing anything tomorrow, right? And honestly... I really like the company.”
I raised an eyebrow, pretending suspicion. “Is it just my company you like?”
He flushed again. “Among other things,” he admitted with a sheepish grin, “but yes, your company is at the top of the list.”
I chuckled. “Fine. I’ll stay a little longer.”
The truth was, I didn’t want to go back. After a glimpse of comfort and care, home felt like the last place I wanted to be. And if Peter was offering me an escape, even just for one more night, who was I to turn it down?
I gave this a read through twice, and .. this is what Clementine deserves - to be well taken care of. Of course, there's no mention of her parents checking on her (absolute wicked individuals), but I want this for her. It makes me all the more nervous that a dark part even has to occur. Does it? 😅. Peter, dont eff this up by making it weird and Clementine, dont overthink it.
Summary: Clementine has fought tooth and nail to achieve her dream of attending a prestigious university. Balancing her demanding workload, a suffocating home life, and financial strain, she’ll do whatever it takes to stay afloat. Enter Peter Parker: wealthy, charming, and unexpectedly fixated on her. When he offers a proposition that could solve all her problems, Clementine reluctantly agrees—unaware she’s stepping into a carefully constructed trap. What begins as a transactional relationship spirals into something far darker as Peter’s true intentions come to light.
Warnings: This story contains dark themes, including manipulation, psychological and emotional abuse, unhealthy relationships, non-consensual elements, obsessive behavior, gaslighting, loss of autonomy, familial neglect, and power imbalances. Please read at your own discretion.
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto
Series Masterlist
Peter’s place wasn’t at all what I had imagined—not that I’d given it much thought before. The two doormen at the front should have been my first clue that this wasn’t your average apartment. When he opened the door and led me inside, it felt like I had stepped into one of those homes featured in Architectural Digest. The kind reserved for the ultra-wealthy, not for a regular college student.
The entryway alone was impressive, with sleek marble floors and modern art hanging on the walls. As we walked further, I found myself surrounded by so much space that it was almost unsettling. This wasn’t just an apartment; it was a penthouse.
“Would you like anything to drink?” Peter asked, pulling me from my thoughts. “I’ve got tea, coffee, soda, juice... water?” He gestured toward a hall that seemed to lead to the kitchen.
“Water’s fine,” I said, following behind him, unsure whether I felt impressed or out of place.
“Make yourself at home. The living room’s just through there,” he said, pointing to an open space before disappearing into the kitchen.
The living room was intimidating in its own way. Sleek leather furniture and glass tables gave it a bachelor pad vibe, but the carefully curated touches—plush throw pillows, elegant vases, and soft lighting—hinted that an older woman had been involved in decorating. Maybe his mom or grandmother.
Massive windows overlooked the city skyline, offering a breathtaking view that felt surreal.
“Your place is huge,” I called out, still taking everything in. Did he really need this much space? It felt excessive, even for someone like Peter.
“Yeah,” he said, stepping out of the kitchen with a glass of water in one hand and a mug in the other. “My parents insisted. They were worried about my safety and comfort.”
I raised an eyebrow as I took the water from him. “Comfort? What do they think happens in dorms, survival of the fittest?”
He laughed lightly, settling into the couch, placing his mug onto the coffee table and motioning for me to join him. “Something like that. They wanted me to have my own space so I wouldn’t have to deal with, you know, the usual college stuff.”
I couldn’t help but scoff. “You mean other people?”
“Exactly,” he said with a smirk.
I sipped my water, my eyes wandering around the room again. Everything about this place radiated wealth, from the subtle branding on the throw blankets to the polished wood paneling lining the walls. It was impressive, but it was also a stark reminder of the enormous gap between Peter’s world and mine.
I couldn’t even get my parents to call a plumber to fix the leak in the basement they dumped me in, and here was Peter, living a life of luxury at his parents’ insistence.
“So, what do you think?” he asked, watching me carefully.
“It’s... a lot,” I admitted “Not what I expected.”
He tilted his head slightly. “And what did you expect?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Something more lived-in. This feels like a catalog.”
Peter chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “You’re not wrong. My Aunt May and her decorator had way too much fun with this place. I’m usually always out, so I haven’t really marked this place as my own.”
I nodded, unsure of what else to say. This world he lived in was so far removed from mine that I couldn’t even begin to relate, but at least he seemed self-aware.
As I sank into the couch, I let myself relax for the first time in months.
"Would you like to watch a movie?" Peter asked, his voice casual but his expression anything but. The look in his eyes told me he didn’t want the night to end, and if I were honest with myself, neither did I.
Tomorrow was Saturday, my usual routine of leaving early for the library, attending an afternoon class, and then tutoring Peter himself. For once, the thought of lingering felt more appealing than rushing back home.
"What did you have in mind?" I asked, meeting his gaze.
Peter shrugged, flashing an easy grin. "I’ve got Netflix, Hulu, HBO, Disney Plus, anything you want. And if I don’t have it, I can get it."
I rolled my eyes, smiling despite myself. "Your house, your pick."
"Ah, but you’re the guest, so you have to pick," he countered, his grin widening.
I chuckled softly. "Seriously, I don’t care. I’m just happy to finally relax for once. Whatever you put on is fine with me."
Peter nodded and scrolled through Netflix before selecting something from the top picks. He stood to dim the lights, the glow of his massive TV illuminating the room as he settled back onto the couch, this time a little closer.
I took a sip of my water, setting it on the small end table beside me. For a while, we sat in silence, the sound of the movie filling the space. I felt his arm shift behind me, casually resting on the back of the couch.
I wasn’t oblivious. I knew Peter had an interest in me, it had been clear for some time now. But I also knew it would be in both our best interests to keep him at a distance. Yet, as I glanced over at him, something was different. Maybe it was the soft glow of the screen highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline or the way his smirk tugged at the corner of his lips when he caught me looking.
“What?” he asked, his voice teasing.
I hesitated, my mind racing. Was it the vulnerable place I was in mentally, after months of unrelenting stress? Or was it the fact that, for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel entirely hopeless?
I decided to set the bait.
And if he didn’t take it, I’d leave.
Leaning forward, I pressed a quick, soft peck to his lips. His eyes widened in surprise, confusion flickering in them as he searched mine for an answer.
I leaned in again, this time lingering a little longer. He hesitated at first, his posture stiff, but then he leaned in too.
Just as I started to pull away, his arm moved from the back of the couch to cradle the back of my head. He deepened the kiss, his other hand sliding to my waist as he pulled me closer. The warmth of his touch contrasted sharply with the cool indifference I’d been holding onto for so long.
For the first time in weeks, I let myself stop thinking.
Peter’s hands slid to my hips, guiding me over him until I was straddling his waist. The shift in position made me acutely aware of the hard bulge pressing against me through his jeans. A mix of nerves and curiosity shot through me, but I didn’t stop. Instead, I shifted slightly, pushing against him experimentally.
Peter broke the kiss with a sharp hiss, his head falling back against the couch. His hands tightened on my hips, holding me still as if he was trying to rein himself in. His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling beneath me.
"This feels like a dream," he murmured, his voice low and filled with awe, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.
Leaning forward, I brushed my lips against his ear, my voice a soft whisper. "Then let’s try not to wake up."
His hands gripped me a little tighter, and before I could pull away, he tilted his head back toward me, capturing my lips in a kiss that felt more intense, more consuming. It was as though he was afraid the moment might slip away if he didn’t hold onto it tightly enough.
Carefully, Peter stood, still holding me in his arms, and gently laid me back on the couch, positioning himself over me. His eyes searched mine, almost as if asking for permission one more time without words. I answered by reaching up, pulling him closer, and reconnecting our lips.
Clothes began to come off in a flurry of hurried hands and nervous excitement. When we were finally bare, Peter paused, breaking the kiss to look down at me. His expression was soft, almost reverent, as he traced a hand lightly over my cheek.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and steady, but the slightest tremor of vulnerability cracked through.
I nodded, my breath hitching. "Yes."
He let out a deep, shuddering breath, his body visibly relaxing as if he’d been holding in the weight of the world. Then, with deliberate care, he aligned himself and slowly entered me. A gasp escaped my lips, a deep sigh of pleasure as the sensation of fullness took over. His lips found mine again, soft and reassuring, before moving to trail kisses along my jawline and down my neck.
He held me close, his movements tender but deliberate, each stroke sending waves of pleasure rippling through my body. The Netflix movie we’d been watching was now just a forgotten hum in the background, white noise to accompany the symphony of our breathing and soft moans. Peter moved with an unhurried rhythm, his confidence smooth but not overbearing.
I wrapped my legs around him instinctively, drawing him closer, urging him to go deeper. He responded immediately, his pace quickening, his control slipping as his movements grew more erratic. The heat between us built steadily, the pressure mounting with each thrust.
I could feel it. The end creeping closer, a tantalizing edge calling me to leap. My breath came in shallow gasps, my body trembling under his as Peter’s own resolve began to waver. His grip on my body tightened, his head dipping to press his forehead against mine as we both climbed higher, lost in the moment.
When the climax finally hit, it was like a tidal wave crashing over me, leaving me breathless and weightless all at once. My fingernails dug into his back as a sharp cry escaped my lips, my body arching into his. Peter followed seconds later, his own release washing over him with a deep, guttural groan. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his body trembling as he shuddered through the intensity of his orgasm.
We stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other, letting the aftershocks subside. Peter lifted his head, his eyes searching mine with a softness that made my chest ache.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but filled with genuine concern.
Still dazed and recovering from the high, I gave him a dopey smile. "I’m perfect."
He chuckled, the sound low and warm as he leaned down to plant another kiss on my lips. "Yes, you are," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face before pulling me into his arms.
The next morning, I woke up in Peter’s arms, both of us completely nude. The events of the night before had stretched well into the early hours, culminating in us finally crashing in his bedroom.
Peter held me close, and I found myself focusing on the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the light rhythm of his breathing. Outside of the pleasant soreness in my body, this was easily the best sleep I’d had in weeks.
I turned my head toward the clock on his nightstand. I’d already missed my morning study session, but if I hurried, I could still make it to my afternoon class. Groaning softly, I shifted to sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and stretching to shake off any lingering exhaustion.
The movement roused Peter. He stirred, blinking at me groggily before giving me a lazy, lopsided smile.
“Hey, you,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “How are you feeling?” He stretched his arms overhead, letting out a satisfied yawn.
“I’m feeling great, actually,” I replied, smiling despite myself. “Better than I have in a while.”
“Good to hear.”
He leaned in to kiss my temple, his lips warm against my skin, before pulling back the blanket covering him and hopping out of bed.
“So, I was thinking,” he started, standing stark naked in front of me without a hint of self-consciousness, “we could order in for breakfast. Maybe have a chill morning?”
It was then I remembered my plans for the day. “About that,” I said hesitantly, still clutching the blanket around me, as I stood to face away from him and his nudity. “I actually have to go home and get ready for my afternoon class. And…” I added, pointing toward his general direction with my finger, “we still have a tutoring session later, don’t forget.”
Peter moves to stand in front of me, an amused grin on his face as he stepped closer. “You don’t need to go home for that.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He placed his hands lightly on my hips, making it impossible not to look at his face. “I had Gerald pick up a Plan B pill for you this morning—”
“Wait, who’s Gerald?” I interrupted.
“My butler,” he said nonchalantly. “He’s from a legacy of butlers. He handles the house and anything else I might need.”
I blinked. A butler? A legacy of butlers? How absurd.
“Anyway,” he continued, as though he hadn’t just dropped that bombshell, “he also grabbed some clothes for you, so if you want, you can stay here, take a shower, and head straight to class. The university’s only twenty minutes away on foot, but I can drop you off myself if you’d prefer.” he starts rubbing his thumbs into my hips “Save you about 15 minutes or so.”
“I still need to get my laptop from home.”
“Do you use cloud storage for notes and texts?” he asks
“Well, Y-yeah, b-but.”
“I have iPad’s, laptops, and tablets. Take your pick and just login.”
How convenient. I hesitated, trying to decide if I was comfortable with this level of generosity.
Peter leaned in closer, his hands still firmly on my hips, his face softening into an imploring expression. “Please? Stay for breakfast.”
“I don’t know,” I said, biting my lip. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“You’re not intruding,” he said smoothly. “You were invited.”
When I looked up, he was giving me the most ridiculous set of puppy dog eyes. I sighed, feeling my resolve crumble under his gaze.
“Alright,” I relented, laughing softly. “I guess I can stay a little longer.”
“Perfect,” he said, his grin brightening as he leaned down to kiss me, warm and lingering.
The kiss caught me off guard. It wasn’t like we hadn’t been intimate all night, but something about the softness, the casual affection of it, left me feeling... awkward. Maybe it was because, for all the physical closeness we’d shared, this moment felt unexpectedly intimate in a way I wasn’t used to.
Peter moved toward a drawer near the corner of the room, rummaging through its contents while I stood there clutching the blanket to myself, unsure what to do. He pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, walking back to hand them to me.
“Here,” he said with a small smile. “Figured you wouldn’t want to walk around the house naked.”
I nodded, taking the clothes from him. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” he replied, turning back to find something for himself in the same drawer.
“Uh, Peter?” I started, hesitating.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I added quickly, not wanting him to misinterpret my question. “I need to use the bathroom,” I clarified, hoping to wipe away any doubts about my comfort. I didn’t need him thinking I was regretting anything.
The uncertainty on his face disappeared instantly, replaced by that easygoing grin. He pointed to a door adjacent to the bed. “Right there.”
“Thanks,” I said, shuffling toward it, still clutching the blanket as if it were my armor. I stepped inside, shutting the door firmly behind me and making sure the lock clicked into place before exhaling deeply.
The bathroom was massive, sleek, and impossibly clean—practically showroom-ready, save for a hamper overflowing with clothes in one corner, a toothbrush and toothpaste perched on the counter, and a half-filled garbage bin. The cool marble tiles underfoot and the sheer size of the space made the bathroom look like a utopia.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror above the sink, running a hand through my disheveled hair. For a moment, I let myself take in the surrealness of it all. The previous night, I was curled up on a couch in my parents’ home, dreaming of a way out. Now, I was standing in a bathroom big enough to fit my entire makeshift room in the basement.
I shook my head, pushing the thoughts aside. Dwelling on it wouldn’t change anything. After relieving myself and tidying up, I grabbed Peter’s t-shirt and boxers, slipping them on. They were far too big, but the soft fabric and faint scent of his cologne were oddly comforting.
When I emerged, Peter was sitting on the edge of the bed, now fully dressed in a fitted shirt and grey sweatpants, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when I stepped out, his smile warm and immediate.
“You look good,” he said, gesturing to his clothes on me.
I laughed lightly, tugging at the hem of the oversized shirt. “Thanks. Not exactly high fashion, though.”
“High fashion is overrated,” he quipped. “You pull it off.”
His casual compliment left me a little flustered, but I quickly changed the subject. “So, breakfast?”
“Breakfast,” he confirmed, standing and offering me his hand. I hesitated for a second before taking it, letting him lead me out of the room.
I walked out of my afternoon class and headed toward the campus café to grab a Gatorade, still marveling at the outfit I was wearing. Luxury from head to toe—Prada dress, matching purse, and even a pair of designer shoes that felt like walking on clouds. It wasn’t that I’d never worn or seen luxury items before, but having them bought for me, on a whim, was something else entirely.
When Peter’s butler, Gerald, handed me the bag this morning, I half-expected to find something generic from Macy’s—a simple one-size-fits-all dress. Instead, I’d been met with pure couture, along with a small assortment of fancy shower items, as if I were a visiting dignitary.
Compliments followed me all day, even on a relatively empty campus. A few lingering looks from passing students, nods of approval, and whispered envy. It was new, and while part of me enjoyed it, another part felt a little exposed.
Gerald, for his part, had been exactly what I expected from a butler: stoic and professional. Yet, he had this warmth to him, calling Peter "Master Peter" and me "Miss Clementine," which took me completely by surprise. Hearing someone older and wiser address me so formally was jarring, but oddly, it didn’t feel patronizing. Just... proper.
As I left campus, heading back to Peter’s place for our tutoring session, I heard a familiar beep. Peter was parked at the curb in his car, waving me over.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said as I opened the passenger door and slipped in.
“Of course, I did.” He grinned, his boyish charm on full display. “Aunt May would’ve killed me if she found out I made a girl walk all the way back to my apartment.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
“Oh, by the way,” he added, “the frat guys found Nikki’s keys. Turns out they were in the punch bowl.”
I wrinkled my nose. “How unsanitary.”
“Tell me about it. But don’t worry, Gerald and I got her car back to her safe and sound. I also grabbed your things.”
He gestured to the backseat, where I saw my bag and some books neatly stacked.
“What about Carrot’s stuff?” I asked.
“Got hers back to her too,” he said nonchalantly.
“How?”
He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, Nikki’s address was on her car insurance card. As for you and Carrot, I... might’ve snooped a little to figure out what belonged to who.”
Weird, but practical.
I blinked, unsure how to feel. “I guess I’m just not used to people going out of their way like that.”
Peter’s smile softened. “Well, you should get used to it. Gerald’s cooking steak tonight, by the way. Any chance you’d want to stay for dinner after our tutoring session?”
How odd but steak sounded good. I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
The tutoring session went smoothly as usual. Gerald busied himself in the kitchen while Peter and I worked through the material at the dining room table. When we finished, I couldn’t resist asking a question that had been lingering in my mind.
“Why do you keep requesting tutoring sessions with me when you clearly don’t need them?”
Peter’s face flushed pink as he fumbled for an answer. “Well—”
“Because of me, Miss Clementine,” Gerald interrupted, appearing with two plates. He set them down in front of us before continuing. “Master Peter is the heir to a very important company, and I believe that no matter how much he may already know, nothing beats consistent practice. In fact, I’m the one who hired you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Tony Stark didn’t finish school. He seems to be doing fine running, at least half, of the company without all this extra tutoring.”
Gerald placed his own plate at the table and sat down. “What works for one may not work for another, Miss Clementine. Mr. Stark had to step into his role prematurely after the tragic demise of his parents. Had they lived, I assure you, he would have completed his education.”
Peter’s blush deepened, and I couldn’t help but smirk at his embarrassment.
When dinner was finished, Gerald collected the plates, and I packed up my things, returning a tablet I’d borrowed from Peter earlier.
“Why don’t you stay a bit longer?” Peter asked, his voice tinged with something hopeful.
“I need to get home,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.
“Gerald made banana pudding? ” Peter teased, his grin widening.
From the kitchen, Gerald called out, “Best banana pudding you’ll ever have, Miss Clementine.”
I hesitated. Banana pudding was my weakness, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.
“I don’t know...”
Peter’s expression softened. “Look, I don’t mean to pry, but you seem miserable at the idea of going home. Stay here for a bit. You’re not doing anything tomorrow, right? And honestly... I really like the company.”
I raised an eyebrow, pretending suspicion. “Is it just my company you like?”
He flushed again. “Among other things,” he admitted with a sheepish grin, “but yes, your company is at the top of the list.”
I chuckled. “Fine. I’ll stay a little longer.”
The truth was, I didn’t want to go back. After a glimpse of comfort and care, home felt like the last place I wanted to be. And if Peter was offering me an escape, even just for one more night, who was I to turn it down?
Summary: Clementine has fought tooth and nail to achieve her dream of attending a prestigious university. Balancing her demanding workload, a suffocating home life, and financial strain, she’ll do whatever it takes to stay afloat. Enter Peter Parker: wealthy, charming, and unexpectedly fixated on her. When he offers a proposition that could solve all her problems, Clementine reluctantly agrees—unaware she’s stepping into a carefully constructed trap. What begins as a transactional relationship spirals into something far darker as Peter’s true intentions come to light.
Warnings: This story contains dark themes, including manipulation, psychological and emotional abuse, unhealthy relationships, non-consensual elements, obsessive behavior, gaslighting, loss of autonomy, familial neglect, and power imbalances. Please read at your own discretion.
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto
Series Masterlist
The morning light streamed through the thin curtains in the living room, waking me far earlier than I wanted. My back ached from the stiff couch cushions, and my neck felt like it had been bent at an unnatural angle all night. I blinked at the ceiling, letting the familiar stress knot settle in my chest. Another day, another problem.
The basement was still a disaster zone. Most of my things were ruined, and what little I’d salvaged was shoved into trash bags at the corner of the room to be dug out when needed. My parents’ promises about fixing the flooding were just words—weeks had passed, and they had yet to call a plumber. What were they waiting on? A flooded basement was just a disaster waiting to happen,
Pushing the blanket off me, I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I could hear the faint clatter of Mandarin in the kitchen, probably making her pregnancy-approved smoothie, while my mom hummed along to whatever song was playing on the radio. The normalcy of their morning grated on my nerves, as they’d already forgotten about everything that had been wrecked. My everything.
I grabbed my phone, scrolling absently through notifications. A text from Carrot popped up, asking if I was still on for our session later.
I texted her back, confirming the session.
After that, I scrolled through Amazon, adding replacements for my ruined items to a wish list. It felt like a depressing exercise in prioritization—deciding what I needed and what could wait until I had more money. Everything felt urgent, but my bank account disagreed.
"Instead of being on your phone, you could start on these dishes," my mom said, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I saw her standing before me, hands on her hips, ready to pounce.
I didn’t react. Nowadays, she was always looking for a reaction, and I wasn’t giving her one. I ignored her and went upstairs to the bathroom to prepare for the day.
"Don’t ignore me," she called after me. "When I get back, I want those dishes done. You hear me?"
"Yes," I replied, not even looking back.
It was easier to give her the response she wanted, even if I had no intention of doing what she asked. All my stuff was destroyed, I was sleeping on the couch, and I was sure she still expected rent next month. She could save her demands for someone else. I was over it.
I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror while the faucet ran. My jaw was tight, and my shoulders were heavy with tension. My reflection looked just as worn out as I felt. The weight of replacing everything, finding a way to get out of this house, and keeping up with school felt too much to handle. And it all just felt so impossible.
I went through my day as usual, but a numbness clung like a heavy fog. A creeping depression lingered at the back of my mind, threatening to overtake me. I tried to fight it, keeping busy and going through the motions, but it felt like a losing battle.
When I met up with Carrot later that afternoon, I helped her with her assignment, though I noticed she was more distracted and jittery than usual.
“What’s wrong?” I finally asked.
She hesitated before blurting out, “What’s the appropriate response when a man hands you a bouquet?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, I think it’s usually ‘thank you.’ Unless you didn’t want them?”
She shrugged, her shoulders rising to her ears. “I don’t know. He just handed them to me. This guy...he knows my brother. I’ve seen him around the house a few times, but this was the first time he’s ever spoken to me. He just...gave me the flowers.”
“What did you do?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Her head dropped back, and she groaned, covering her face with both hands. “I squeaked and ran to my room.”
I chuckled despite myself. “Sounds like you’ve got a secret admirer.”
“Do I?” she peeked at me through her fingers, but her expression was tinged with fear instead of excitement.
I frowned. “If you don’t like it, you can just tell him to back off. Seriously. If he makes you uncomfortable, shut it down.”
She turned to me, uncertainty written all over her face. I wanted to say more, but the words stuck in my throat. Before I could figure out what to say, I glanced at the time on my phone and realized it was getting late. Home awaited me, but the thought of walking into that house twisted my stomach. I remembered a few frat boys handing out flyers on campus earlier that day and dug one out of my backpack.
“Hey, how do you feel about going to a party tonight?” I asked, holding up the flyer. “Girls get in free.”
Carrot gave me a skeptical look. “You want to go to a party?” she asked, her tone dripping with disbelief.
She had every right to be surprised. In the month or so that Carrot had known me, our outings had consisted of coffee shops, bookstore visits, and the occasional brunch. I wasn’t exactly a party girl; judging by Carrot’s demeanor, neither was she. But tonight, I needed a reason—any reason—not to go home.
“Come on,” I said, nudging her shoulder. “We can call Nikki for backup. It’ll be fun.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”
I plastered on a smile. “I’m peachy. Look, I just wanted to try something different. We can do something else if you’re not up for it.”
She took the flyer from my hand, studying it momentarily before sighing. “I suppose it can’t hurt.”
I nodded, already reaching for my phone. “Alright then. I’ll call Nikki.”
As soon as Nikki heard the word party, she was already on her way to pick us up. But the moment she saw Carrot and me still in casual clothes, she rolled her eyes dramatically and dragged us to the nearest outlet mall.
“Absolutely not,” she declared, hands on her hips. “Yall are not showing up looking like that.”
Nikki was a diva through and through, a true glamour girl since birth. She adored everything that sparkled and shined, living for the high-end life. Gold jewelry, luxury perfumes, and the most sought-after fashion brands—if it was expensive and exclusive, Nikki probably owned it. She thrived on attention and wasn’t about to let us cramp her style.
By the time she was done with us, we were dressed to the nines. Carrot was wide-eyed and blushing in a sleek emerald-green dress that hugged her figure modestly but she insisted on keeping her sweater on. Nikki made sure I was in something equally stunning—a black jumpsuit that was somehow both chic and comfortable, paired with a statement necklace she insisted on buying for me.
“This is non-negotiable,” she said, fastening it around my neck. “We need to turn heads when we walk in.”
On the drive to the party, Nikki couldn’t stop gushing about her latest sugar daddy, a wealthy entrepreneur planning to whisk her away to Cancun for an all-inclusive trip next month. Carrot’s eyes widened, her mouth slightly agape as if she were hearing about this lifestyle for the first time.
Nikki and I couldn’t help but giggle at her reaction. She seemed so innocent, and she probably was.
“Have you ever had a sugar daddy?” Carrot asked me, her voice curious but shy.
I shook my head with a small laugh. “No, but I’m open to it. Honestly, I might have to start looking into it with how my life is going.”
I sighed dramatically, and Nikki grinned. “Well, you’d make a fabulous sugar baby,” she said. “You just need to polish up your wardrobe.”
“Mandarin had one before she got pregnant,” I added offhandedly. “I think his name was Andy?”
“Wait,” Nikki said, her perfectly arched brows shooting up. “Do you think he could’ve been the father?”
I shook my head. “No, she dropped him long before she got pregnant. But I’m willing to bet it was whoever came after him.”
Nikki leaned back in her seat, humming thoughtfully. “Whoever it is, she’s keeping it locked up tight. The drama potential is endless, though.”
I will be the first to admit when I’m wrong, and boy, was I wrong about this party. I’d never been so uncomfortable in my life. The music was deafening, pounding in my chest like a second heartbeat. There was barely any food, just a sad bowl of pretzels and questionable chips. And the smells—good God, the smells. Everywhere I turned, there was a faint but offensive hint of body odor, like a slap in the face every time I tried to breathe.
Carrot was tucked away in a corner, practically melting into a fern as if it could shield her from the chaos around us. She looked like she was about two seconds away from bolting. Meanwhile, I was trapped by a drunken frat brother who didn’t seem to grasp that "no" was a complete sentence.
Of the three of us, at least Nikki was having the time of her life. She was in the middle of the dancefloor, a dazzling whirl of energy as she danced with anyone and everyone who wanted. She didn’t have a care in the world, and I envied her for that.
“Yeah, so I was thinking,” slurred the guy in front of me—Jerry, or maybe Jeremy; I’d stopped caring after the second introduction. “If you wanted, maybe sometime I could invite you to my parents’ yacht, and we could have a good time, y’know?”
I plastered on a polite smile, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Jerry had been glued to my side since I walked through the door, and I’d been trying to shake him off ever since. His idea of flirting was as obnoxious as it was persistent.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the shift in Carrot’s posture. The fern she’d been hiding behind wasn’t enough to conceal her now; a giant of a man loomed over her, easily towering over most of the party. He had the kind of presence that commanded attention; sure enough, quite a few people were sneaking glances his way.
Carrot, on the other hand, looked like she’d just seen a ghost. Her wide eyes and stiff posture were screaming for help. For a split second, I hesitated, wondering if maybe I should let her handle it. Perhaps this was her chance to flirt, to break out of her shell a bit. But then I saw how she shrank back, her fingers clutching the edge of her dress like she wanted to disappear.
“I think my friend needs me. I have to go,” I said, cutting Jerry off mid-ramble.
As I turned to leave, his hand shot out and grabbed mine. “Wait—at least give me your number?” he asked, his words slurring together.
I carefully pulled my hand away, keeping my tone firm but calm. “No,” I said, for what felt like the hundredth time that night. “Goodbye, Jerry.”
“It’s Jeremy,” he yelled
Well, that mystery is solved.
Without waiting for a response, I approached Carrot, whose panic was practically radiating off her. The giant man standing over her didn’t look threatening—at least, not in a conventional sense—but the way Carrot clutched her bag to her chest told me she wasn’t comfortable.
I stepped between them, offering the man a polite smile. “I’m sorry, I need to borrow her. Do you mind?”
The man shifted his attention from Carrot to me, his smirk deepening as his eyes locked onto mine. He was handsome in a way that took a moment to fully register—like a painting you only appreciate after stepping back to see the whole picture. His sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes gave him an almost otherworldly intensity, and the way he carried himself, with an effortless confidence, was magnetic. It was the kind of presence that made you curious.
“Go ahead,” he said, his voice deep and smooth, but I was already pulling Carrot away.
I scanned the dancefloor and spotted Nikki, still having the time of her life, a drink in hand as she laughed and twirled in the middle of a group of strangers. I considered dragging her out right then and there for a second, but she was clearly in her element. I decided to let her have her fun a bit longer. In the meantime, I turned my attention back to Carrot, who still looked like she was struggling to shake off the encounter with the man.
“We need to get you somewhere quiet,” I said, glancing around. “Let’s head upstairs and see if we can find a room for you to breathe.”
Carrot nodded silently, following me through the crowd of partygoers and up the stairs. After peeking into a few rooms, I found one empty and gestured for her to sit on the edge of the bed. She perched there, her shoulders tense as she fidgeted with the hem of her sweater.
I sat beside her, my voice soft. “He seemed into you. Did you not like him?”
Her face flushed, and she hesitated before muttering, “That was him.”
My brow furrowed in confusion. “Who?”
“Vincent,” she clarified, her voice barely above a whisper.
The name didn’t click immediately, and I tilted my head. “Who’s Vincent?”
She sighed, realizing I wasn’t connecting the dots. “The guy who randomly gave me flowers.”
“Oh.” I raised an eyebrow. “Did he threaten you or something? Because it looked like you were about to pass out.”
Carrot shook her head, avoiding my gaze. “I don’t want you to think I’m weird.”
“Too late,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Now tell me, why were you so scared of him?”
Her shoulders slumped, and she finally looked at me, her expression torn. “I… I kind of have a fear of men. People in general, but mostly men.”
I blinked, taken aback. “What about your brother?”
She gave a slight shrug. “Well, I’ve known my brother my entire life, long before I had this fear.”
I considered her words carefully. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
Carrot shook her head, clearly exhausted. “Not really. I just want to go home.”
I nodded, glancing around the room for a way to distract her until Nikki was ready to leave. My eyes landed on a deck of Uno cards sitting on the nightstand, and I grabbed it with a small smile.
“How about we have our own little party up here?” I suggested. “Just until Nikki’s ready to go.”
Carrot gave a faint smile and nodded. “Okay. That sounds nice.”
We played a few rounds, the tension slowly leaving her shoulders as she started to relax. After some time, I checked my phone and realized Nikki still hadn’t texted. Sighing, I stood and motioned for Carrot to follow me back downstairs.
When we reached the living room, my stomach dropped. Nikki was passed out on the couch, her head lolling to the side. Beside her sat Jeremy, the drunken frat guy who had been bugging me earlier, his arm draped around her shoulders like he had every right to be there.
Anger flared in my chest as I stormed over, shoving his arm off her. “What the hell are you doing, creep?”
Jeremy stood up, clearly drunk and getting belligerent. “You wouldn’t give me any pussy, now you’re cockblocking me?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, my voice ice-cold. “Oh, please. She wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, drunk or not.”
Carrot was already beside Nikki, gently trying to rouse her, but Jeremy stepped forward, towering over me in an attempt to intimidate me. I squared my shoulders, refusing to back down, but someone stepped in front of me before I could say anything else.
“Jeremy, back off,” came a familiar voice—firm, deep, and slightly dangerous.
It was Peter.
Jeremy opened his mouth to argue, but Peter cut him off with a sharp glare. “You’re drunk. Go to bed.”
Jeremy looked like he might argue for a moment, but then he huffed, set his bottle down on the table, and stumbled toward the stairs, muttering under his breath. As he disappeared, he shot me a death glare, but I couldn’t care less.
I turned back to Nikki, who was groggy but starting to wake up. “Thank you, Peter,” I said, my voice softer now.
“No problem,” he replied, his tone shifting to his usual cheerful friendliness.
Carrot and I helped Nikki to her feet, but she was still too out of it to walk properly. Peter stepped forward, scooping her up effortlessly and slinging her over his shoulder like it was nothing.
“Where’d you guys park?” he asked.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I started to protest. “We can handle it.”
Peter gave me a puppy-dog look, his grin disarming. “Come on. Let me help.”
I hesitated but eventually nodded, too tired to argue. “Alright. Follow me.”
When we reached Nikki's car, I took her purse and started rifling through it, hoping to find her keys: lip gloss, receipts, a wallet—everything but what I needed. Frustrated, I glanced inside the car to see if she’d locked them inside, but the doors were shut tight, and the keys were nowhere in sight.
“No keys,” I muttered, exasperated. I turned to Peter, who still had Nikki slung over his shoulder. “We either have to go back inside and look for them or... walk.”
Carrot’s face fell at the suggestion, her exhaustion and discomfort evident.
“Or,” Peter interjected smoothly, pulling a set of car keys from his pocket, “I could take you all home. My car’s parked just down the street.” He flashed a charming smile. “I can even get some of the guys to look for Nikki’s keys tomorrow if you’d like.”
I hesitated, weighing the options. Carrot stood silently, her posture stiff as she avoided looking directly at Peter. Her quiet demeanor tugged at me, so I turned to her for input. “Would you be okay with that?” I asked gently.
She nodded after a moment, her gaze dropping to the ground. “Yeah, that’s fine,” she murmured.
“Alright, that settles it,” Peter chirped, his grin widening. He adjusted Nikki’s weight on his shoulder and motioned for us to follow him down the street.
When we reached Peter’s car, a sleek black Mercedes Benz, he opened the door with practiced ease and motioned for me to sit up front. Meanwhile, he carefully strapped Nikki into the back seat, her head lolling to the side as she mumbled something incoherent.
“We’ll drop off Nikki first,” I said, watching him secure her seatbelt. "She lives the farthest, and... I don’t feel comfortable leaving her alone while she’s like this.”
Peter nodded without question, his usual easy smile softening as he closed the door behind Nikki.
The drive was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the faint sound of Nikki mumbling in the back. When we pulled up to her house, Aunt Lisbeth answered the door, her hair covered with a silk bonnet and her robe cinched tightly around her waist. The disappointment on her face was immediate as her eyes landed on Nikki over Peter’s shoulder.
She sighed heavily. “Just put her on the couch. I’ll get her father to carry her to her room.”
Peter nodded, lifting Nikki with care and stepping inside. As he placed her on the couch, Aunt Lisbeth turned her attention to me. “How’s school going, Clementine?”
“It’s going well,” I said, forcing a smile despite my exhaustion.
Her expression softened, and she nodded approvingly. “Good. I know you’ll probably be the most successful in the family.”
Her words warmed me in a way I didn’t expect. Outside of my parents, most of my family members have always supported my decision to pursue higher education. It was a small comfort, but one I held onto tightly.
After exchanging quick goodbyes, Peter and I headed back to the car.
Next, we stopped at Carrot’s house. A woman, who I assumed to be her mother, stood outside, bundled in a blanket with a scarf on her head, waiting by the door.
“Is your mom okay?” I asked, noticing how fragile she looked.
“She’s fine,” Carrot mumbled. “She’s just sick. I told her she didn’t have to wait for me outside.”
As Carrot opened the door, she glanced back at Peter and me. “Thanks,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Peter smiled warmly. “Anytime.”
Carrot walked over to her mother, who waved slightly at us. “Thank you,” the woman said faintly before Carrot gently guided her inside. Watching them, I couldn’t help but think about my mother—a woman who barely made time for me and never cared enough to try. The stark contrast stung more than I cared to admit.
When they stepped inside the house, Peter glanced at me. “Alright, your turn. Where to?”
I hesitated, my hands tightening around my coat. “I don’t want to go home.”
The words came out before I could stop them. I wasn’t sure why I said it, but the thought of returning to that house, to the couch, to the constant tension and nagging felt unbearable.
Peter’s hands rested on the steering wheel as he processed my words. “Would it be okay if I took you to my place?”
I blinked, unsure how to respond. “I don’t want to go to the frat house either.”
He chuckled lightly. “I don’t live at the frat house.”
We sat silently for a long moment, the weight of the decision hanging between us. Was I really going to his place? But then I thought about the couch, my parents, and Mandarin monopolizing every corner of that house. The answer was clear.
“Okay,” I said finally, the word heavy with exhaustion.
Peter smiled faintly. “Okay.”
As he pulled away from the curb, I leaned back in my seat, staring out the window. For the first time in weeks, I felt a tiny flicker of relief.
Question - Tony and Peter, are they siblings? Tony is a Stark, and the 1st chapter says that Peter is the heir to Parker and Stark. Also, why is Peter the heir if he's the younger sibling? (I'm assuming he's the younger). Tony is a genius. Is he just too immature?
Tony and Peter aren’t siblings; their connection comes through their parents’ shared business, Stark & Parker, which is a corporation co-owned by both families. Since the company is split into shares, each family passes down their respective portions to their heirs.
In this story, Tony has already left school and inherited the Stark in Stark & Parker (essentially already taking over his side of things). Because of this, I figured Tony isn’t considered an “heir” anymore since he’s already assumed his role in the business.
Peter, on the other hand, is next in line to inherit the shares owned by his father, Richard Parker. This makes him the last heir currently waiting to step into his role within the corporation. So while they’re both tied to Stark & Parker, Tony is already established, and Peter is still in the process of stepping into his responsibilities.
Hopefully, that clears things up! Let me know if you’ve got any more questions—this was a fun one to answer. 😊
I thought Kiwi parents hated her but Clementine parents take it to a whole new level and are we going to find out who the baby daddy is? Does she even know?
Lol, Kiwi's parents don't really hate her, shes just more of a disappointment to them.
And though it might sound crazy, Clementines parents don't hate her either, they're just assholes.
And yes, Mandarin knows who the father of her child is, Clementine, finds out eventually, but little later on.
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