#with fake old men would be not only accepted but celebrated as part of me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rina-writes · 3 years ago

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Cubic Zirconia

Summary: You run a non-profit that promotes women in STEM. As part of your role, you still maintain an old YouTube channel where you teach math and science concepts. Every now and then you get to interview small celebrities. You get the opportunity to interview Jack Harlow, your biggest celebrity yet. You didn’t think much of it until Jack’s agent calls with a proposal: date Jack for 6 weeks and get the funding your company desperately needed.

Warnings: Fem!reader, fake dating trope, fluffy, mentions of drinking, mentions of sex, light descriptions of sex, a bit of angst at the end, very long (20k+ words)

A/N: I’m not usually into the fake dating troupe, but The Love Hypothesis was quite enjoyable (apparently it was Reylo fan fiction which although I don’t follow that ship, it’s a cool fun fact). So, it inspired me to write my own version as someone who is in STEM and I thought it would be fun to do it for Jack. But…I was kinda on a roll and went very long. Also, went for the more avant-garde title. Kinda proud of it tbh lol

Your eyebrows went up even higher than they did before as the piece of paper was pushed in front of you. It was a check for $50,000. You were sitting in a board room surrounded by ten people from Jack Harlow’s team. Only one of them, Jack’s agent, was doing the talking, but you assumed the rest surrounded you to make you feel intimidated. You wanted to tell them it was unnecessary.

You were wearing the same sweater you had worn on and off for the last week, alternating days so colleagues wouldn’t notice. Your leggings had tiny holes by the thighs, but it wasn’t noticeable unless someone was staring directly at your crotch. Your sneakers were discounted at Famous Footwear, the cheapest in your size and you still scoffed at the $40 price tag. The most decent thing about you was from the shoulders up. You knew how to apply the minimal makeup needed to make you look presentable, but also push you out the door in the 15 minutes you gave yourself to get ready. Your hair was the same trusty style you had it since high school, so you didn’t even worry about it on a daily. In a room full of designer bags, professional haircuts, and, most likely, many cosmetic procedures, you were so intimidated, you couldn’t even feel embarrassed. They didn’t have to try so hard. That many zeroes on a check spoke volumes.

“I think I may have gotten lost some where in there.” You confessed, shaking your head.

You stared at the check on the table, not wanting to pick it up. You knew that touching the check didn’t mean you accepted it, but you didn’t want to risk it.

“What is it you want me to do?” You asked Jack’s agent.

“I want you to pretend to be Jack’s girlfriend for the next six weeks.” Jack’s agent walked back over to the giant monitor with his slides. You groaned inwardly. You hated watching your own presentations, let alone someone else’s. “As you can see here, since your and Jack’s interview, he’s really jumped up in demographics that were quite low before. For example, men over 45.”

You grimaced. You really hoped those people were your investors and not creeps he watched your videos for other reasons.

“But most importantly, this demographic of women between 25 and 40.” Jack’s agent tapped the screen. “It was a market we thought we already tapped into, but surprisingly, it was the wholesome side of Jack that really got to them.”

That made sense to you. Your non-profit targeted women in STEM with a particular focus on BIPOC women in undergraduate programs. As a result, most of your questions to Jack were about his views on education and enhancing young minds. You were surprised by his responses. For someone who didn’t go to college, he didn’t frown upon it. In fact, he focused more on not giving up because the going got tough. Given that most of your viewers were women in STEM, they were probably happy to hear support from someone so…charismatic and easy on the eyes. Many of them may not of heard of Jack prior to your video and, like good scientists, started to do their research.

“And you think that dating me would help?” You asked, frowning.

“Well, yes. People are already pairing you two together.” The agent said, clasping his hands in front of his waist.

“Do you always do what the shippers want?” You laughed softly, finding that to be a preposterous reason.

“The what?” The agent asked.

You rolled your eyes. “You know, shippers? People who “ship” people together. Come on that’s like 2013 Tumblr, how old are you?”

The agent cleared his throat. “The whole industry is about strategic partnerships, especially faux relationships. Chances are if a pairing seems a little too perfect or a bit too strange, it’s a fake.”

“Kim Kardashian and Pete Davidson?” You asked.

“Uh huh.”

“Ariana Grande and Pete Davidson?” You offered.

“Yup.”

Kate Beckinsale and Pete---” You paused and let out a groan. “Am I…am I the female Pete Davidson?”

“You could be!” The agent said, throwing finger guns your way with a bright grin. You couldn’t tell if he meant that as an insult or not.

“Isn’t it kind of seedy though? I mean how does Jack feel about this?” You asked, looking around. “He’s not even here.”

“He’s preparing for his show tonight.” His agent explained, “And trust me, he’s fine with it. We need to know if you are.”

“I-I” You looked down at the check again. The $50,000 up front would be amazing for your organization. To have the promised $150,000 more at the end of six weeks would be phenomenal. The doors you could open and the dreams you could grant were innumerable. Well, they weren’t exactly innumerable, but it was damn good. But, weren’t you selling your soul? Or rather, your identity and reputation. Was that all worth $200,000?

“Don’t forget…” The agent added, seeming to sense your hesitancy. “That’s just our offer to your agency. For the next six weeks, you’ll have a condo in Atlanta, full-time driver, and I’m sure Jack will cover all of your joint meals.”

“Atlanta?” You frowned, forgetting this part of the arrangement. “I live in Silicon Valley. That’s way too far.”

“I mean can’t you help women in Atlanta?” The agent offered. “It could be good for Jack as well. There are plenty of marginalized groups--”

“These kind of programs take time to develop. We need months of research to find out which areas would prosper the most from our resources. Then we need to determine the kinds of resources that they would benefit from the most and if we can fully provide them. We would also need clear results to show our investors which would take way longer than six weeks.” You stood up. “This business is not the kind of thing that you do for a day or a week. If you want to help someone build a career, it takes years. For me to just date a guy, move to a city, start a half-assed program, and then bounce because of, what, a broken heart? That would be like career suicide to me and my company.”

“You’re right.” The agent said before quickly adding, “Sorry. How about this? We’ll continue to fund your program after the six week break up for the next few years. We can decide then if it would be public or not. But this way, you’ll at least know you have a chapter in Atlanta that is fully funded.”

“Chapters are expensive.” Your ears had perked up at the word. “A chapter has management and full-time volunteers. Can you afford it?”

There was some laughter in the room. The agent raised his hand to stop them. You hadn’t really liked him at first, but you appreciated this gesture. Despite the group of people there to make you feel insignificant, throughout your conversation with him, the agent made you feel important. He respected you. He looked in your eyes when he spoke. You weren’t particularly taken by him, but he was warming up to you.

“Yes.” He said in a manner that confirmed it wasn’t a stupid question.

“Well then, I look forward to working with you, Samuel.” You stood up and walked over to shake his hand.

“Please, call me Sammy.” He said, smiling at you.

You grinned back, “No.” You said confidently before turning on your heels and walking out the door, grabbing your check along the way. As you walked to your bicycle, you realized the gravity of what you had just done and questioned your sanity. However, as you biked to the nearest bank, what you were feeling seemed inconsequential to the amount of help you would be providing.

Jack spun around in his chair, his phone on speaker as he heard Sammy on the phone. He was almost sure he had misheard him. It was already late in Atlanta by the time Sammy called. Jack’s producer had stepped out for some fresh air and his boys went to grab a bite to eat. Jack was in the studio alone, listening to beat after beat, looking for inspiration. It was a welcomed distraction to hear Sammy’s voice.

“I can’t believe she agreed to it.” Jack asked, flexing his slender, pale fingers. “She definitely seems a bit high and mighty.”

“Oh she is.” Sammy huffed. “You tell her a few things about her non-profit and suddenly she’s calling you by your government name.”

“Ugh, she kept calling me Jackman!” Jack laughed. “Every time we were off camera. It felt like a swear. My skin crawled every single time.”

“What did you say?” Sammy asked, curious what could make her so icy towards him.

“I asked why she wasn’t wearing a lab coat for her intro.” Jack shook his head. “Apparently, she’s a computational biology so it means she mostly spends her time looking at computers. I may have implied she wasn’t a real scientist. I almost found my head inside of that life sized volcano replica.”

Sammy’s warm laugh made Jack smile. It was a painful memory to relieve. He remembered seeing your face twist slightly, fighting back anger. You clenched your fists, took a few deep breaths and walked away. You returned like mother a who stopped herself from slapping her child. You put on a similarly maternal, placating voice as you told him you were ready to begin.

Jack didn’t think you were a bad person. He could tell you were sweet and genuinely cared for others. You were a lot better person than him, that’s for sure. However, you were high strung with strong opinions. It didn’t surprise him that you gravitated towards math and science where everything was grounded in facts. He was more of a poet. You both were so different, you two being together wouldn’t make sense.

“Why do you think she’s the best candidate again?” Jack asked Sammy.

“Because, she’s smart and cute.” Sammy explained. “It helps your image.”

“Are you calling me dumb?” Jack teased.

“Of course not! People see you as a bit of an intellectual…for a rapper anyway.” Jack could hear Sammy’s smirk that the jab. “If you were to be with an actual…”

“Geek?” Jack offered.

“Academic…” Sammy countered. “...it would really match up. Plus, as I said, a lot more older ladies started listening to your music. Older ladies who have STEM money.”

“How did Y/n even get to run a company? I mean she’s around my age, right?” Jack speculated out loud.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Sammy offered. “On your date next week.”

“Wait what?” Jack yelled, his spinning coming to a halt.

“Ah, gotta go, but I’ll text you the details.” Sammy said, hanging up quickly.

Jack groaned loudly. He knew that the couple reveal would be soon, but he didn’t expect it to be that soon. Jack sighed. What could he do anyway? The decision had been made. He sighed and went back to listening to beats. The first few notes tingled his ears in that familiar way. He found it. He wrote down the number of the beat and started rapping; the bars flowing out of his lips easily. Suddenly, everything else faded as he sunk deeper into his passion.

“Aren’t you going to dress up a bit?”

Your cheeks flushed pink at Jack’s comment. You could tell in his eyes that he realized he messed up. You weren’t sure if it was because of your expression or if he realized on his own that his comment was in poor taste.

“I am dressed up…” You squeaked, playing with the hem of your sweater dress.

So, your fashion taste was stuck in that timeframe where business casual had somehow been considered sexy. But, this was your best dress--that wasn’t an actual gown. The gray cowl neck sweater dress hugged your curves fairly well and was long enough to cover your leggings that tucked into your short black booties. You always got compliments on it at conferences with your friends telling you that they wished they had dressed up as well. You forgot that you were in a field with a dress code of jeans and free company t-shirts. They shouldn’t have been your marker for fashion.

“Ah, damn.” Jack closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Top five things not to say to your girlfriend on the first date.”

You cracked a smile which seemed to encourage Jack further. “Perhaps I should just make a comment about your weight and imply how much I hate makeup, just to make sure I knock the other items off the list.”

“I knew it!” You yelled teasingly. “I knew there had to be handbook because all guys couldn’t just figure out the exact lines to be scum.”

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, you get it when you hit puberty. It’s the book we get instead of those period books.”

You laughed softly. You stared at Jack and realized that even though he wasn’t wearing anything spectacular himself, he did look more put together. He was wearing a sleeveless black mock neck, a fitted black blazer and well-tailored black pants. The accents of his silver Kentucky necklace, diamond stud earrings and his many rings on his well-manicured fingers brought his look together. He was wearing his glasses today. They were rimless with a slight brownish tinge to it that seemed to go well with his curly brown hair. It was a bit shorter than usual and his beard was trimmed and neatened. You avoided the most stunning part of him, his bright blue eyes. They trapped you in a way that you wondered was legal. From the glances you did steal, they looked beautiful as well.

“I didn’t really have anything in SF that I could wear…” You confessed. “I assumed you would wear sweats.”

“On a date with you?” Jack shook his head before smiling. “I would never.”

Oh right, his straight, white teeth. How could you forget his perfect teeth? You looked away from his smile.

“What should I do? Is it going to be a disaster?” You asked, gesturing at her outfit.

“Let me call my stylist…” Jack said, pointedly avoiding the question.

Forty-five minutes later, you emerged from the hotel bathroom in your new outfit. His stylist clapped happily. You awkwardly took your clothes, hoping she didn’t see your tattered legging, and put them on the bed. She did a few finishing touches by adding another ring and gave you a thumbs up. You didn’t blame her for running out the door before Jack’s commentary. It was a Saturday and she had mentioned she had to meet with her boyfriend soon.

You waited patiently, the sound of the door of your hotel room closing as she left. It was like a reminder that you two were alone, again. You couldn’t tell if Jack was joking or not, but he seemed to be rendered speechless. He kept opening and closing his mouth until final he said,

“Uhm, wow.” Jack was looking you up and down like he was looking at a stranger. “You look hot.”

You turned in the full-length mirror and looked at yourself. You were wearing a maroon velvet two piece set with an off-the-shoulder crop top and midi skirt. On your feet were strappy gold heels that matched the chandelier earrings and other assorted jewelry pieces. You had a matching Kate Spade bag that barely fit all the items your tote bag could, but you could make do for the evening. You felt sexy, especially with the red lipstick that tied it all together.

“Do you think people will recognize me?” You asked Jack, turning to him.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Jack asked.

“You said I looked hot.” You frowned slightly. “I’m not sure if that fits my usual image.”

“I said hot…not different. You always look gorgeous.” Jack confirmed. He stared at your eyes through your reflection. You realized this was only a little more bearable than direct eye contact. “Come on, let’s go have a good time.”

You blushed and nodded, happy to get away from him. Standing in the mirror together, you could feel his warm, strong body behind you and it made your heart beat faster. Distance was quite welcomed.

You got into Jack’s car and were driven to the restaurant. You didn’t expect him to have a driver, but then again, you realized it made sense. You sat in the back of the car in silence, only the sounds of smooth jazz playing in the background. Jack’s bodyguard was sitting in the passenger seat, looking at his phone. When you arrived at the restaurant, the bodyguard got out first to open Jack’s door and let him out. You were about to scoot over when Jack wagged a finger at you. He closed the door and did a quick jog over to your side to open the door for you himself.

“A queen never slides.” Jack smiled at you, extending his hand towards you.

“Is that…” You grinned as you took his hand. “Is that Jack Harlow quoting the Princess Diaries?”

He laughed. “Why is that shocking? I am very into cinema.”

You shook your head as you walked toward the restaurant together. “I don’t know if I would consider that a cinematic masterpiece.”

“2000s movies have a special place in my heart.” Jack confessed. “I can’t critique them honestly.”

“Wait, so you’re really into movies then?” You asked him.

Jack opened the door for you and at this point you realized you had been holding hands this whole time. While you appreciated the gesture of opening the door, your hand suddenly felt cold without his. Jack seemed to read your mind because he resumed holding your hand the moment you stepped in. You had to remind yourself that this was for the couple of paparazzi who had just spotted you both. Not because he actually wanted to hold your hand.

“I am.” Jack’s voice sounded breathy almost like he was confessing. “Sometimes I think I love movies more than music.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond. The head waiter recognized Jack immediately and led you to your table. The waiter motioned to pull your chair out, but Jack stopped him, doing it for you instead. You sat down and placed your napkin, your cloth napkin, across your lap and picked up the menu. You stared at the prices in disbelief. The restaurant, Bacchanalia, had a prix fixe menu of $110 a person. They also had a caviar service, which you had never heard of, that cost $120. As if immediately understanding your reaction, Jack leaned over and whispered,

“I promise, you’ll be full.”

“For these prices, I would pretend even if I wasn’t.” You whispered back.

Jack smiled softly. You thought the seating arrangement was weird at first. At a four sided table, you were used to sitting across from the person you were eating with, but Jack sat in the seat adjacent to you. Now, you realized, it made it much easier to chat. It also gave the strategically placed paparazzi the perfect angle to snap photos of you two.

“It wasn’t my first choice,” Jack confessed. “Because only a pretentious asshole would bring a girl to the fanciest place in town for a first date. But, the food here is pretty good. Try to at least enjoy it, even if the company is terrible.”

“You said it not me.” You turn to grin at him. He was smiling back, but you suddenly realized how close he was to you. He was hunched over, inches from your face, causing you to inhale deeply. That was a terrible idea because you inhaled all of his scent. Jack smelled very good. It was a light clean scent with something else distinct that you knew would be the smell you associated with him forever.

Jack leaned in to close the space between you both and you pulled the menu up to separate you. He chuckled softly and you wondered if he ever felt embarrassment. You would have if you had been rejected in such a manner.

“Guess I read the mood wrong there.” Jack commented, picking up his menu as well.

“What mood?” You huffed, moving a hand between you two. “This isn’t real remember?”

“Say it louder, please.” Jack gestured behind him with his thumb. “For the people in the back.”

You frowned. “Seriously, there’s not point in fooling around. It’ll just make things messy.”

“There’s fun in mess, you know.” Jack smiled at you, a glint in his eye.

“There’s also comfort in control.” You countered, rather weakly. It didn’t exactly make you sound life the of the party.

You both ordered your food and Jack got a bottle of wine for the table. He chose a Prosecco which was at the top of the list of sparkling wines. The waiter came and offered the wine to Jack to sniff. Jack offered it to you, only to get a look like a deer in headlights. What exactly were you supposed to do with that? Jack leaned in,

“I heard you’re supposed to check if any cork got in and check if it’s fresh. Just, swirl, sniff and sip.” You could barely focus with the feeling of his warmth breath tickling your cheek. You followed his instructions, smiling and nodding at the waitress. She smiled, adding more to your glass and filling Jack’s halfway. She placed the bottle on the table before walking away.

“How did you know that?” You asked.

“Drama.” Jack responded. Upon seeing your quirked brow he added. “DJ Drama.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” You nodded. You knew he was his mentor, but that was about it.

“And Reddit.” Jack added, taking a sip of his wine. He shrugged as if to say, “the internet, am I right?”

You chuckled at his honesty. You glanced around the restaurant casually as you took another sip of wine. You noticed that the area around you was pretty empty despite the late hour. That’s how you knew this place was fancy.

“Have you seen your condo yet?” Jack asked. “It’s pretty snazzy. It’s the company condo. I stared there when I first got signed for a couple weeks. It’s not too far from here.”

“I’ve only been to the hotel, where you met me today.” You mentally face palmed, pointing out the obvious. Jack was polite enough not to mention it.

“When do you check out?” Jack asked.

“In two days.” You explained. “They said I shouldn’t go to the condo until next week. Well, as long as the public doesn’t see me.”

“That makes sense.” Jack nodded. “To show our relationship growing gradually before having you show up more frequently.”

“Yup, that’s the plan.” You pressed your lips into a line. “Is this fake thing something you do often?”

Jack laughed. “Are you kidding?” Jack shook his head. “Hell, no. My agent put this all together because apparently being private isn’t ‘in’ anymore. But, I’m not really into relationships.”

“Well, you’re a 20-something year old man.” You shrugged. “I’m sure you can get any girl you want.”

Jack eyed you with a smirk tugging at his lips. “Not any girl…at least not for free.”

“Ah, an Only Fans subscriber, I see.” You gave him a little fist pump. “At least you are helping woman owned businesses.”

“Yeah, my most expensive one yet is a $200,000 appearance fee.” Jack smirked as you choked into your wine.

It was at that moment that you realized the money your organization was receiving didn’t just come from thin air. Someone had to earn it and that someone was Jack. As much as you found the idea preposterous, he was, to some degree, your employer. The least you could do was be cordial toward him.

“It will really help a lot of people.” You explained. “Plus, Samuel said that he would help to create an Atlanta chapter of the organization. Although we support women in STEM, our resources extend to everyone in the community. Last year, communities with our chapters saw a 45% increase in retention rates of high school graduates even though only 30% of them were officially in our program. We think this is because--”

Jack stared at you in awe. You looked so animated when you talked about your work. He remembered this from your video together, but it was such a short period of time and he had clearly rubbed you the wrong way. Now, he could see that you weren’t only smart, but also incredibly caring. You called students by name as you commended their efforts. You rattled off numbers and statistics like they were seared into your brain. Even when you briefly explained a mathematical concept, despite not studying for years, it seemed to click in Jack’s head effortlessly. He was disappointed when you stopped speaking, a flush of red dusting your cheeks.

“Sorry, I went on a long rant there…” You cleared your throat. “...in summary, your money is going to a good cause.”

Jack smiled. At this point, you both were on your second course. He was surprised the evening was coming to a close so quickly. He used his napkin to dab his lips before asking,

“And what does my money get to do for you?” Jack asked.

“What do you mean?” You frowned. “I just explained in length--”

“What it could do for your organizations. For Tabitha, Irma, Niharika, and Mei Yu.” Your eyebrows raised at how easily Jack recalled the names. “But, what does it do for Y/n? Are you going to put a down payment on a home? Buy a car? Buy a fancy dress?”

You paused. The thought hadn’t occurred to you. You gave it genuine thought before responding.

“No. I doubt that I could afford a home in the Bay Area and I don’t even know if I would want to if I could. To be rooted there…I’m not sure if that’s what I would want long term. Biking has been a great way for me to stay in shape, so I’ll probably stick with that. And…well, if you let me keep this outfit, I won’t have to buy a dress.”

“It’s yours.” Jack said, sipping his wine. “And anything else you receive from me during the next six weeks. No interest. No take-backs. Consider anything I give you a gift.”

“Why would you?” You asked. You couldn’t help, but feel like this is a trap. “Do that for me, I mean?”

“Because, I know what I get out of this. And my label. And your organization. But, I want to make sure that you get to enjoy this too.” Jack gestured to the window with his chin. “The paps are monsters. I don’t think I even know the half of it yet. But now that we are a thing, it’s only going to get worse. I signed up for this for life, but you…you’re doing me a solid.”

“Oh…” There was something in you the felt disappointed. It sounded so business-like. It wasn’t like in the movies where he wants to take care of you because he feels that’s his responsibility. Not that he should. Including today and the first day you met, you two had spent a total of 13 hours together. You couldn’t mean something to someone in a short period of time. And, you most likely never would mean something more to Jack. If you ever crossed paths, you’d probably say hi, but that was about it.

Jack studied your features. He couldn’t tell what he said that made you fall silent. You did run an organization that empowered women. Maybe insinuating that he would do things for you was like throwing crap in your face. At the same time, Jack could tell that wasn’t it. You were lost in thought and felt far away despite being so close to each other.

“Dessert’s coming.” Jack sang softly, alerting you. He smiled softly seeing your eyes light up. You straightened as the waitress placed the dish in front of you. You licked your lips as you dug in.

“I’m glad they chose you.” Jack said, after taking the first spoonful of chocolate out of his mouth. “I was worried they would choose someone that was fake.”

“Fake?” You asked, eating a double time in comparison to Jack.

Jack laughed, and slid the rest of his dessert on to your plate. You quirked an eyebrow and he shook his head. He continued, “There’s a lot of smoke and mirrors in this business. As I’m sure you know from your celebrity interviews, not everyone acts the same on and off camera.”

“You do.” You said, now digging into his slice of cake. “You’re the same annoying, arrogant asshole on and off camera.”

Jack’s eyes, which had been trained ahead, snapped to look at you. When he saw the coy smile on your lips, he couldn’t help but return it. The spoon half in your mouth and the other half pressing down on your lower lip was seductive in the most innocent of ways.

“What was that?” Jacked asked,

“I got you there for a second, didn’t I?” You teased. You scooped some of your dessert on your spoon and extended it for him.

“I don’t really like sweets.” Jack confessed.

“Come on…” You cooed, “...for the cameras.”

Jack’s intense eye contact as he bent over to put the spoon in his mouth and pulling back to get every streak of chocolate off of it before he chewed slowly made your heart stop.

‘That was oddly attractive.’ You thought. He was licking his pink lips, getting the remnants of chocolate off of it. He twisted his head to the side as if realizing it was good, but he still wasn’t a huge fan of desserts. All the while your hand remained frozen in the air because you were staring mouth a gape at him. In all honesty, you were teasing him. You didn’t think he would do it, but now you worried that play dating maybe more complicated than you think.

“Did, uh, Samuel give us any rules for this arrangement?” You asked.

Jack frowned, the question coming out of the blue. “Uhm, not outside of the usual stuff. Don’t do anything permanent: no tattoos, pregnancies, STDs, murder. Don’t date anyone else until the six weeks are up. Don’t start dating someone as soon as the six weeks are up. Don’t break up before talking to our respective teams.”

“The usual stuff?” You echoed, smiling at his list of “permanent” items.

Jack nodded. “Trust me, this is way too short of a list based on what I’ve seen people do out here.” Jack paused for a moment as if still trying to understand where your question came from. “Was there anything else you would like to add?”

“We should probably have a schedule or something. We can do a few dates here and there to show that we do like each other. We should also get our story straight: how did we meet, how long we’ve been together, favorite things, common hobbies…” You paused seeing the surprised look on Jack’s face.

“Have YOU done this before?” Jack asked.

A blush dusted your cheeks. You weren’t the type to blush, but there was something about Jack and the way he said things that made your cheeks flush. “I know my fair share of fake dating to-dos from Hollywood and the romance section of Barnes and Nobles.”

“You mean those sex novels with Fabio on the cover?” Jack teased.

You coughed. “No, these days they tend to be animated covers.” You blushed. “And they don’t always have sex in them.”

“Don’t always?” Jack pressed. “Is this what everyone’s favorite little computational biologist is doing in between meetings?

“Anyway, back to the point.” You cleared your throat as you moved the conversation along. “Where did we first meet?”

“The taping for your video.” Jack said as you took notes on your phone. “But, I started following you when you first made that set of videos on number series. With your mathematical remix of the School House Rock songs.”

“Did you really?” You asked, shocked. “We’re talking like my first few videos here.”

Jack gave a bashful smile. “Yeah, uh, when you first started I was in senior year of high school…they helped.”

Your eyebrows went up. “Oh…” He did that thing again, where he rendered you speechless. That was before your company was more than just a vague idea. That was when you were making videos out of your dorm room for your younger family members and neighbors who you could no longer tutor miles away. You didn’t think they were helping a young man in Louisville, KY.

“Your turn,” Jack swiftly moved to the next topic. “How did I ask you out?”

“You slid into my DMs.” You smirked. “And then quickly moved to SnapChat, and then text and then in-person.”

“Huh, that actually sounds like me.” Jack pulled at the hair of his reddish brown beard. “And what made you say yes?”

“You looked sincere when you told me you would give me the world.” You said, not looking up from your phone. You felt shy all of a sudden and didn’t want to meet his gaze. You glanced up to see him also looking away drinking his water like it was the last glass on Earth.

For Jack, he wasn’t expecting such a sweet answer. Most of the girls he talked to liked him because of his physical traits: his hands, his height, his eyes, his voice. Or they liked him for his music and what it represented: his fame, his money, his power. Despite being a rapper, it was rare for a girl to fall for him solely for his way of words. He worried you would toss the question back at him. Why did he pursue you in the first place? He knew he found you cute in a bookish, hot-for-teacher kind of way. He loved the way your body filled out this outfit and he had to admit that he was imagining how it would look in other things -- or without anything. He realized that the times he found you the most alluring was when you talked about your work. You both had the same work ethic and passion. That was it, you were passionate. However, Jack knew that could be taken the wrong way, by you and the press, so he didn’t say anything. Luckily, you didn’t ask either.

Later that night, after you had been driven back to the hotel, Jack continued to go over in his mind the events of the evening as he took his nightly shower. When Jack got out of the shower, he snorted when he saw that he had a link to a slide deck in his messages. He chuckled, opening it to see the details of your relationship. He was sure that if you weren’t in STEM you could be a lawyer or a marketer. It was well-laid out and the perfect quick guide. He smiled reading your interests when one caught his eye. On a whim, he decided to FaceTime you.

It took awhile, as it usually does when you FaceTime a girl out of the blue, but you did answer.

“Uhm, hi” You said, fidgeting with yourself while looking at your own image in the bottom right corner. You finally looked at him and gasped. “A-Are you naked?”

Jack blinked and looked down, almost bringing the phone down with him if it wasn’t for your scared yelp. He chuckled.

“Sorry, I was standing in my towel and forgot. I just can’t get over this…your least favorite soda is ginger ale?”

“You called me naked for that?” You laughed at the ridiculousness.

“Yes because it’s absolutely wild to me.” Jack shook his head.

Your mouth was dry. His curly hair was sopping wet which made it look very dark pressed against his forehead. His skin looked soft and his eyes, with those long lashes, looked even softer. His shoulders were definitely a great feature. They were broad and well-defined. From the phone’s perspective, the furniture behind him looked so small just showing how tall he was. No one was going to believe this was your boyfriend, no matter how many slides you wrote up.

“It’s like medicine to me.” You explained. “I only had it when I was sick as a kid.”

“I’m bringing you some Ale8.” Jack wagged his finger at you. “It’s a Kentucky version of ginger ale and it will change your mind. No, it will blow your mind.”

“I doubt that.” You shook your head and you smiled. “Any other questions?”

“Oh shoo-ing me off already?” Jack gave a fake pout. “Is this anyway to treat your boyfriend?”

“Fake boyfriend.” You corrected. You couldn’t admit that you wanted to end the conversation because the longer you stared at him the more you wanted to see. Laying in bed in a old t-shirt and underwear, talking to a shirtless Jack was bound to tease you.

“If you keep saying that, you’re going to mess up.” Jack shook his head. “We should think of nicknames for each other or something.”

“Check slide 17…” You yawned. “...feel free to add your input. They are Google Slides to which only you and I have access.”

“And Google.” Jack grinned.

You gave him a sleepy grin back. “Yeah, and Google. Good night, Jackman.”

Jack rolled his eyes, clearly hating the usage of his name. You would stop if annoying him wasn’t so amusing. “Good night, baby girl.”

Your cheeks flushed. “I don’t remember that being a sanctioned nickname.”

“I’ll add it then.” Jack smirked at the camera, “Especially since it makes you all flustered.”

He blew a kiss at you before hanging up. The call ended as abruptly as it had started. You put the phone on the nightstand and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. You couldn’t remember the last time you went on a date. The feelings in the beginning felt the same. You had the nervous jitters as you got ready, the first and the second time. You and Jack spent quite a bit of time trying to get into the groove of things including awkward glances and laughs.

But, the rest of the date was so different. No guy had ever taken you to such a fancy restaurant. Most of the guys you dated were PhD students who didn’t have a lot of money. A fancy date was sitting in front of the fireplace on his laptop while sharing a cup of ramen noodles. Or, if you were the one splurging, Panera Bread. This restaurant had cloth napkins and wait staff that never let your glass get half empty. There was a set menu where each option for all four courses looked just as good as the next with suggested wine pairings on a separate menu.

Of course, this restaurant had Jack. You had done some research on the middle-class Kentucky boy, but he had this southern charm that made you swear he was a Rockefeller. The way he looked out for you from wine to dessert was…sweet. For a second, you forgot that you were being paid to be his date. An escort, without the sex. You closed your eyes and groaned at the thought. You had debated telling people in your life about this, but that realization assured you to keep it to yourself. Everyone had secrets and this would be yours.

The next day, you woke up to 17 missed calls. Some from your mother, seven from Micah, and the remainder from Brenda. You texted your mother that you had made it back to the hotel safely. She was the only one who knew about your “business-date” in Atlanta. You had to tell someone. It was the only way to make sure that your organs weren’t already being harvested by the time your loved ones realized you were missing. You didn’t tell her who it was, not that she would know, but did mention that he was in a different industry to you. Then you turned your attention to the remaining calls. Brenda was your work associate and a good friend. She helped you run your non-profit. She was twenty years older than you, but young at heart. She had naturally curly red hair and bright green eyes, often referring to herself as Jolene when she was drunk. She did cross fit three times a week and yoga the remaining four days giving her tall frame lean muscle all over. She was the person that grounded you. You didn’t keep secrets from her because it made your job easy on your soul and on your mind. You bit your lip as you called her first.

“I KNEW SOMETHING WAS UP!” Brenda yelled. You could hear her huffing. You had slept in to 12 pm, but it was still early in California. She was most likely on a run and had stopped to yell at her.

“What? What?” You asked. “I told you I was in Atlanta.”

“NOT TO GO ON A DATE WITH JACK HARLOW!” She yelled again. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?”

You smiled a bit, ready to practice your lines that you rehearsed over and over in your head. “For Jack’s sake, really. He wanted me to keep it quiet until we were ready to go public with our relationship. Today was the debut.”

“But…” You could tell Brenda was stepping to the side, probably leaning on a tree. “...how? When? What? Jack Harlow, really?”

Your teeth dug into your lower lip and sighed. “I know it’s uncanny, but he’s just so…charming. He has a surprising way with words. He kinda got to me.” You sighed. “We’re just dating it’s not like marriage. He could dump me at any point.”

“I was wondering how we suddenly got funding for the E. L. Rodriguez project.” Brenda said, you could hear her shaking her head. “$25,000 out of the blue? I should have known you had some kind of sugar daddy.”

You blushed. You had spaced out the $50,000 across different projects in hopes that Brenda wouldn’t notice. The E.L.Rodriguez project, named after one of your good friends who was an avid member of organization who dedicated her life to researching breast cancer before losing the battle to it a couple years ago, was expensive. The idea was to allow seniors in high school up to juniors in college have the opportunity to work in cancer research labs. Equipment was expensive and resources were scarce. They had to train the students use said equipment and prove that they wouldn’t be a liability. Liabilities were also expensive.

“Technically, I’m a little older than him.” You said sheepishly. “He would have graduated college a year ago. I already have my masters.” You went straight after college, so you were only a couple years older, not that you thought Jack minded.

“If you’re giving the sugar and he’s paying, he’s the sugar daddy.” Brenda laughed. “Well, honestly, I am just glad to see you having fun for a change. You put so much into this…you deserve for someone to treat you like a princess. I mean that restaurant looked…”

“Wait…” You paused. “How did you know I was dating Jack?”

“Girl, you were on TMZ.” Brenda shook her head. “I had to find out on Instagram.”

That explained Micah’s text messages as well. Dammit. That was fast.

“I gotta call Micah.” Your voice coming out shaky.

“Oooh, they are gonna kill you.” Brenda cooed. “Good luck, doll.”

Brenda ended the call for you. You took a deep breath. You sat up and grabbed your iPad from off your night stand and put it in the standing position with the help of its case. You scrolled to your notes on Jack. These were just for you and based on all the information you had gathered on him. You could tell you would need it for this next call.

The phone only rang once before you heard, “You lying bitch…”

Oh Micah. They were your closest friend. You met during college and had been inseparable ever since. Micah was always the center of attention. Curly hair often dyed in colors like pink and blue, large doe brown eyes, and a lanky frame that wore both suits and dresses well. Micah worked closely with the LGBTQ+ side of your organization. You hoped they would lead it in the near future, but understood that they were currently drowning in their PhD program. Not that it meant they weren’t spending time on TMZ.

“I never lied.”

“You told me you were in Atlanta for a business meeting.” Micah argued.

“Well,” You smiled to yourself. Technically, you were at a business meeting. “Jack said he wanted to take me somewhere nice afterward so, who was I to…”

“Somewhere nice? Somewhere nice?” Micah repeated. “That’s what I said when that Spanish dude took me to Applebee’s. That’s what I said when that girl from Michigan took me to Nick’s Lobster House which was a bit more expensive then Red Lobster. This is not somewhere nice. This is somewhere freaking spectacular.”

You bit back a smile. “He may have been trying to impress.”

“Is that boy in your bed sheets right now?” Micah asked, “Because I am sure he didn’t do all this just for a kiss goodnight.”

You laughed. “Bold of you to assume he even got that.”

“You are cold.” Micah let out a shocked laugh.

“There may have been a FaceTime call after. One of us fresh out the shower…” You weren’t lying, you just omitted a few details.

“Little Miss Y/n…” Micah took a deep breath. “Before we talk about how OUT of character this is for you, can you please explain how you started dating in the first place? Because I know you aren’t dating the straight white boy who got on Lil Nas X’s music video and begged for proof that he’s not gay.”

You frowned, already feeling defensive of Jack. You scrolled through the notes on your iPad looking for the right answer.

“First of all, I believe Jack went with Lil Nas X’s complete vision for that music video. I mean have you met, Jack? He would not have been opposed to getting naked and doing that dance.” You had seen enough of his “sus” videos to determine that.

“NO, Y/n, I have not met Jack. So, I wouldn’t know what he’s like.” Micah chuckled softly. “I’ll be honest, I’m a little hurt you didn’t tell me. I mean finding out on the internet that STEM Geek Girl, which I had no idea was your YouTube name by the way, was dating Jack Harlow kinda shook me. Like why would you keep that a secret?”

“I wasn’t sure if it was true. I mean Jack is Jack.” You said, scrolling to the top of your notes. “I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t making a big mistake. I’m still not sure.”

“Oh sweetie, I’m still mad and we are going to have a serious conversation about this when you get home…but congratulations. I’m happy to see you happy. I mean in the photos you looked so happy to be with him and he was looking at you like…anyway” Micah sighed. “See you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Bye…” You said, a bit dazed.

You felt guilty. Brenda and Micah just wanted you to be happy. They were so excited about your fake relationship. This sucked. How would they take it when this all ended in six months? You picked up your phone and texted Jack.

You: Is my room service on you too?

In a few minute you got a response back:

Jack: Good morning to you too, princess

Jack: Like the name? New pet name just dropped.

Jack: Of course, sweetness, anything for you.

Jack: Oooh these are good. I’m on a roll…

You rolled your eyes. You could take a bit of teasing. After all, you were about to eat your heart out on Jack’s dime.

Jack sent you a quick text for your arrival. He smiled, checking out the room service menu sent via the hotel. These were all sent to his accountant with him CC’d. However, his curiosity was peaked. The total amount was $50. He chuckled thinking about his first room service bill and the number of zeroes nearly gave his accountant a heart attack. He found himself excited to spoil you more.

Unlike you, the news of his dating life didn’t effect Jack’s loved ones. None of his friends or family texted him about it. He didn’t even spend enough time on Twitter to see if it was trending. People were so used to him being connected with any woman who was in his remote area that they didn’t waste their time worrying about it. Plus, the people closest to Jack knew he was a flirt. Still, the people closest to him also knew that Jack wasn’t usually this lazy when it came to his dating life. What would be the point of having everyone sign NDAs if he was just going to squander it by going public with everything he did? That was the reason Jack assumed that Urban asking about you.

“I didn’t know you were hanging out with Y/n.” Urban said, his long, blonde locks creating a curtain between him and Jack who was sitting on his left.

“Uh, yeah. She’s in town scoping the place for a new chapter for her business. Figured I’d give her the tour.” Jack explained, vaguely. They were sitting on the couch of their shared apartment, stomachs full from stuffing their faces with pizza, and absentmindedly watching whatever YouTube video while their food digested.

“To Bacchanalia?” Urban scoffed, “That’s not exactly the usual tour.”

Jack smiled a bit. “I guess there’s some mutual interest between us. Wanted to give her something a little special.”

“Really?” Urban asked, turning to face his friend, a hand resting on his protruding, stuffed stomach. “She’s interested in you? Romantically?”

Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“You’re rapper that scrapped his way through high school. She has a master’s degree. A master’s of science degree.” Urban shook his head. “You spend most of your time in the studio writing songs and she spends most of her time showing people how to use liquid nitrogen. What on Earth do you two talk about?”

There was a pause as Urban seemed to be reasoning his question in his mind. A smile spread across his lips as he wagged his finger at Jack. “I get it. You two don’t talk, do you? It’s a physical thing.”

Jack could feel himself getting offended. He wasn’t sure why. Any other time, Urban would have been right. Ever since he hit puberty, all of his relationships had a sexual element to them. However, he knew that it was more than the fact that he was being accused of something he didn’t do. It was because he was implying that you were like that too. You were a busy person who barely had enough time to buy new clothes let alone sleep around with random celebrities.

“It’s not.” Jack finally responded through gritted teeth. “It’s hard being long distance and now that she might be coming to Atlanta, I want to ease into it.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts.” Urban said, folding his arms. “I’m sure we’ll all hear when you too got at it anyway.”

Jack gulped. He forgot about that. No one he knew would believe it that he didn’t have sex with his girlfriend. Should he just tell Urban it was fake? No, Sammy was very clear about keeping it in the boardroom. But, it wasn’t like he could just sleep with you for the sake of keeping this secret. Or, could he?

You took a deep breath. You decided to tell Brenda the truth. It made more sense than any lie you could think of. Especially since the condo was clearly not an AirBnB and even if it was, you couldn’t explain away the private driver. Still, having your business partner and friend sitting on the couch, sprawled out in disbelief was not how you expected this day to go. The condo was large and lavish with a gorgeous view of the city. It was a one bedroom with a King sized bed, a spacious kitchen, and a open floor plan that would have made an HGTV enthusiast fall to their knees. On your bed were at least seven pairs of leggings from Lulu Lemon, a few party dresses, a couple of casual sweaters and five pairs of shoes: three for parties and two for lounging. There was a note from Jack welcoming you to your place and explaining that his stylist picked these outfit for you based on your conversation. The amount of leggings was an unfortunate reminder that she did indeed see the holes in your old ones.

“So, you’re not in the mafia then?” Brenda asked, looking at you.

You shook your head. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Darn, I liked that theory way more than you winning the lottery.” Brenda grinned. “I can’t believe fake dating is real. Well, not real real, just like a thing.”

“Apparently it’s all over Hollywood.” You shrugged. “I suppose it makes sense.”

“I mean, Jack seems sweet. And he’s good looking.” Brenda grinned. “It’s basically a fling, right? A no strings attached arrangement.”

“Uhm, I think this is a bit more than just a summer fling.” You put your hands up. “Look at this place? There’s no way that me dating him for a short period of time makes all of this worth it for him.”

“Marketing is a hell of a drug.” Brenda shrugged. “Anyway, this could be good for you. It’s been awhile since you started a chapter from the ground up in a new city. Plus, Opal and Jieun can now take on more responsibility in the SF office while you’re here.”

“I’m only going to be gone for a month.” The worry was evident in your voice. “Stop acting like I am relinquishing everything.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Brenda stood up and put a hand on each of your shoulders. “Y/n, I am not saying that at all. I am just reminding you that this is a good opportunity for everyone in the company to grow.’

“I know…” You sighed softly. “I just didn’t think it would be so weird. I haven’t even told Micah. I don’t know why. I think it’s because there is some fun in being the girl who has it all. Even if it’s a lie.”

“Pshhh, why does having it all have to include a man?” Brenda asked you. “And if there is a man, I like the one that updates your wardrobe and gives you a nice condo. Like can I get one off Amazon?”

You laughed. Brenda always knew what to say. She gave you a hug before flipping a fistful of red, curly hair over her shoulder. She walked to the door, sashaying in her black pencil skirt suit to put on her shoes.

“I’ll give you time to unpack. I’m going to check out some of the real estate options for the chapter.” Brenda explained, reminding you why you told her about this and brought her along in the first place. Starting a chapter was definitely a ten person job, but with Brenda, you could make it just with you two.

You managed to squeak out an affirmative response when she left. It felt weird to be in this condo alone. You walked into the bedroom to unpack your suitcase and put away the clothes Jack got you. You paused, and decided to try the leggings on. It had been so long since you had new leggings and such high quality ones at that. You decided to snap a picture and send it to Jack along with a thank you message. You didn’t think anything of it until you got his text back.

Jack: You’re lucky I was only showing my phone to Urb at the time.

Jack: A booty shot too

Jack: Damn mama

You blushed at the red hot tongue sticky out emoji he sent with his last message. You told yourself that it was because Urban was reading over his shoulder. That had to be why he sent you that message. It didn’t matter though, because your stomach was already doing back flips.

You: I only intended for that to be for your eyes

You added the wink tongue emoji and smiled bashfully. You removed the tags from the other leggings and tossed them into a pile to be washed. You would be getting a lot of wear out of those. You eyed the party dresses curiously. These weren’t your style, but they were your size. You were too lazy to try it on, but you secretly hoped there would be an occasion.

Jack: Btw, having an after party on Friday tonight. Wanna come?

You smiled at your phone. Speak of the devil.

You: I’ll have to check my schedule, but I’m sure I can make it.

You went back to sorting your clothes. A few moments later, you heard a notification. You saw it was an email that Jack tagged you in a change on the slides. You opened them up quickly on your phone to see your “Second Date” slot on your schedule slide had been updated with the address of his after party and a smiley face. You grinned at your phone. ‘Not bad, Harlow.’ You thought before prepping for the rest of your week. It was going to be a doozy.

Jack adjusted uncomfortably in his gray sweats. He had been showing Urban a video in the car when your text came through. He didn’t even read the message with his eyes so fixated on your ass in the picture. He made a mental note to buy you twenty more pairs. He blushed, resisting the urge to zoom in with his friend there. Heck, even looking at it made him feel uncomfortable. He knew you didn’t send it as a thirst trap, but you must have known how good you looked in. The way they hugged your hips and cupped your behind was incredible. He didn’t understand why leggings cost so much money, but now he understood.

“I assume that taking it slow thing will be over by Friday night.” Urban said, smirking at Jack knowingly.

Jack smiled a bit, but inside he was panicking. He still hadn’t talked to you about the sex thing. He figured that worst case, he could just say you had a headache and decided to go home. It was only six weeks, it wouldn’t be hard to keep avoiding the topic for so long. As Jack stared down at the tent in his pants, he knew there was one part of his body that wouldn’t lie and he didn’t want you to see it.

On Friday, Jack knew he was excited to see you. You both had been texting back and forth throughout the week. It wasn’t lost on Jack that you didn’t have to talk to each other. He texted you because he wanted to know how you were doing. He liked it even more when you reached out first. For example, when you finally opened the fridge and saw the pack of Ale8s waiting for you. He even FaceTime’d you for your first taste test which extended into talking during your meal and then his and then before both you knew it the sun had set. Or when you texted him frustrated about the conditions of a science lab at a local public middle school. It was funny how enraged he was about the quality of beakers and lab stools now that he started talking to you. Your passion was infectious and inspired him to share more with you as well.

Jack made an effort to get ready for the after party. He took a full shower after his concert and spritzed himself with his favorite cologne. While his hair air dried, he picked one of his favorite outfits - an all white ensemble including a blazer, turtleneck and slacks. He threw some product in his hair to make sure his curls were springy and made his way to the car to take him to the venue.

He probably asked his manager 20 times where you were only to consistently be given shrugged shoulders. Jack was worried you may have gotten lost or stopped by security. He kept checking his phone to see if you texted him, but he hadn’t seen a message from you since that morning. He briefly wondered if you decided not to come, but given that this was one of your three required appearances, you would have reached out to Sammy if you couldn’t make it.

Jack scrolled through his phone, when someone walked in front of him. He looked up expecting you, but instead saw someone else. It was a young woman he had flirted with in the past. She reminded him of a young Sofia Vergara, minus the accent. Her body filled out a spaghetti strap satin white dress effortlessly as she slowly walked toward Jack, twiddling her fingers. She sat next to him, her hand resting on his knee.

“Hi Jack…” She whispered in his ear. Jack felt a chill run up his spine. “I hear you’re a taken man.”

As he looked into her hazel eyes, Jack found himself in a spell. He was remembering the last time he spent time with her--the curve of her body, the smoothness of her skin, the comfort of her movement. He closed his eyes as he looked back at his phone, tapping the black screen to check for new messages. Nothing.

“Araceli,” Jack smiled at her softly. “You know I don’t talk about my personal life.”

“You’re an actions man. Aren’t you, Jack?” Another voice said, sitting next to him. Jack looked to his left to see another woman who was dead ringer for Megan Goode, but a little taller and long box braids that went down her back. Araceli looked at the other girl and smiled. Jack shook his head thinking, ‘Already best friends, huh?’ Jack sometimes hated when lyrics came to life.

“Keisha.” Jack let out a small huff that turned into a laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re also here to verify some rumors.”

“I don’t need to verify anything, Jack.” Keisha said, tossing her braids to reveal her bare shoulder and the top of her sparkly little black dress. “Because as much as you’ve talked to me or Araceli, you have never taken us to Bacchanalia.”

Araceli pointed at Keisha, nodding. “Exactly.”

Jack rolled his eyes. It wasn’t even his idea to take you to Bacchanalia in the first place. It was Samuel who said that it would be the best spot for the paparazzi. If Jack had his way, he would have taken you to a sushi place he frequented with Drama. He remembered you going on and on after the interview about your favorite sushi place being closed. Jack couldn’t wait to show that, while limited, there were good sushi options in Atlanta. There was one spot in particular that had Bacchanalia prices, but with next level privacy. But, what’s the point of that when you’re fake dating someone?

The two women were talking across him, their knees bumping into Jack’s as their hands casually rested on his thigh or chest. Jack kept his own hands forward, avoiding scooping behind each of their waists like he normally would. The last thing he wanted to do was to be snapped in that position. He was already planning his escape when he looked forward and saw you standing there.

His mouth fell agape. Jack knew this situation did not look great. Why did you have the worst timing in the world? He looked you up and down, wearing one of the dresses his stylist had picked out for you. One of the dresses he bought for you. It looked better than he could have imagined. It was a navy blue cami slip dress with thin spaghetti straps and satin that hugged your every curve. You wore silver open-toed block heel sandals that strapped around your ankles and gave you an additional two to three inches of height. He watched you, stumbling a bit as you seemed unsure of what to do. Your phone was shaking in your hands and your purse awkwardly hung off your shoulder.

Jack wanted to run to you and explain himself, but he knew that wouldn’t look any better. Thinking quickly, he raised his hand and waved you over,

“Y/n…baby, come here.” Jack said, surprised at how natural it felt for him to call you to him.

To Jack’s surprise and yours, you walked to him.

You were very tipsy. It took you awhile to realize that Jack was in the VIP section upstairs. You had arrived early, sat at the bar and ordered drinks to sip on. Three drinks in you started to wonder if you got the wrong venue. Just as you were about to double check, you heard someone next to you shout, “Jack just went upstairs!”

You started scanning the club and realized there was a whole elevated portion. At the foot of the steps was a bouncer next to a sign that said VIP. You pulled out your phone to use as a mirror and double checked that your makeup was in place. Then you hopped off the bar stool and shimmed over to the VIP section. The bouncer stared down at you and you started to babble.

“H-Hi, I’m Y/n. I’m with J-Jack’s pa-party--” The bouncer didn’t even let you continue to stammer.

“I know who you are.” His voice was deep and seemed to boom through your chest as he spoke. He opened the red and gold divider blocking the stairs and added a polite, “Have fun” before locking it back. You looked back at the sound of the click, feeling like you were at the point of no return. Then you walked up the steps carefully, hoping not to fall. You made it to the top and the first thing you see from the corner of your eye is Jack surrounded by two beautiful women. You could have passed away right there. Your cheeks burning with embarrassment, you made a beeline to the bar in the opposite direction.

You ordered another cocktail. You were surprised when the bartender slapped it down and went to the next person. Open bar, nice. You grabbed the cocktail and slurped it like it was water, your eyes fixated on Jack who you could barely see through the crowd of people between you.

“This one’s on me.” You heard someone say. You turned to your right to see Urban standing there with another one of your cocktails in his hand, in his other hand he had a beer.

“Thanks, Urban.” You took the drink as he smiled.

“You remember me?” He asked.

“Yeah, you came with Jack for filming.” You grinned. “I never forget a face and if there’s a name attached it’s even easier.”

“Thanks I really…” Urban’s voice trailed off. You weren’t sure why until you realized what you were doing. You noticed your first cocktail wasn’t done so, you drained it and moved on to the next one without even bothering to put it down. There was genuine concern in Urban’s voice when he asked, “You okay?”

“Fantastic.” You said, turning your gulps into sip in hopes of not looking like you had a problem. “Just a little nervous. Looks like I have pretty steep competition.”

Urban frowned, straining his neck to look over the crowd to watch Jack. He looked down at you and shook his head.

“You’re his girlfriend now, aren’t you? There’s no competition.” Urban grinned. “He’s been asking for you all night. He may be wanting you to save him.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure he needs a lot of saving.” You started to gulp again and Urban took the glass back.

“Something tells me you need saving too.” Urban put the glass he took from you down and then grabbed the other one from your hand.

With the alcohol catching up to you, you couldn’t even protest. You were already struggling to stand without swaying.

“Just go over there!” Urban urged you, giving you a little push.

As you stumbled, you could feel Urban reach up to grab you, but you steadied yourself before he could. You took a deep breath and stood up straight. You decided you would send Jack a quick text while you walked over to the couch area. That was he could ready himself. As you walked there, you realized it was a lot shorter of a distance than you expected. You couldn’t even open your phone by the time you looked up and saw those deep blue eyes staring back at you. He looked good, very good. You knew this was supposed to be your boyfriend, but seeing him next to those gorgeous women, you wondered how anyone would believe it.

When he called you over, your body moved before your mind could catch up. The other women looked at you, waving, but not making an effort to get up. You felt a little disrespected as you stood in front of him awkwardly. Jack didn’t miss a beat. He took your hand and pulled you into his lap.

“You made it.” Jack smiled, “I was worried sick.”

You pressed your lips in a line. “It looks like you found ways to ease your mind.”

Your legs were across Jack’s lap so, your back was facing one girl and you were directly facing the other. “Y/n.” You introduced yourself, reaching out for a hand shake.

“Araceli.” The woman in front of you said, giving you a little handshake.

You tossed your hand over your head, your depth perception a little off as you extended it to the woman behind you. The woman laughed, surprised, as she introduced herself. “Keisha.”

“Y/n.” You said again.

“Where’s my hello?” Jack asked, smirking down at you.

You gave him a forced smiled and put up your hand for him to shake it. He shook his head, a naughty smirk still pulling on his lips.

“Sorry, my hands are full.” He gave your mid section a slight squeeze to emphasize his point. “How about this instead…”

Jack leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss. It was a soft, sweet peck that slowly morphed into a deeper kiss. The metamorphosis of the kiss was thanks to you pressing your hand to the back of Jack’s neck. He didn’t seem like he minded, unlike his two party guests, who vacated the area after a few seconds. Not that you noticed anything besides the softness of Jack’s lips pressing against yours.

You broke the kiss and Jack stared down at you, lips red and puffy and eyes hazed. You blushed realizing you got a bit into character. You were about to apologize.

“Sorry about that.” Jack said, “It was the best way to get them to leave. Apparently, they needed proof of our relationship.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have went in on the kiss like that.” You laughed.

“I didn’t mind.” Jack said quickly and confidently. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been kissed like that. I think even I believed it. My friends certainly did.”

You followed Jack’s gaze straight ahead to see Urban and a few other guys from Private Garden raising their glasses at you both. Your cheeks burned and you looked away, not realizing you had such a large audience. You couldn’t tell Jack that it was a real kiss. You worried he would get the wrong idea. You were just touch starved, you told yourself. Running a business was a lot of work and didn’t give you much opportunities to have your intimate needs met. It definitely wasn’t because you liked him or anything. Definitely not.

“How much did you drink?” Jack asked you, his voice coming out serious and almost paternal.

You frowned. “Uhm two?”

Jack quirked an eyebrow. “Really, two?”

You didn’t like being caught in a lie and called out. Especially not by Jack. “Yeah, two.”

Jack removed his hand from your back and thus removing the support you were using to sit up. With little control over your body you plopped down flat on to the couch. You reached up to your chest to cover it, afraid of an accidental spillage as you struggled to get up.

“Either you’re a lightweight or maybe we need to double your original estimate.” Jack smirked, knowingly.

“Can you just help me up?” You asked sheepishly. When he hesitated, obviously for his own amusement, you added, “If a tit slips out, it’s your fault.”

Jack rolled his eyes, a little tuff of air being blown from his nose as he chuckled. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell he was thinking about your tits as he pointedly looked away from them. Jack slowly lifted you to a seated position and you felt like you had just pulled into the exit area of a roller coaster. He rubbed large circles into your back as you sat still across his back. He continued speaking to you by whispering in your ear.

“You’re sloshed, Y/n. Let’s go home.” Jack’s voice was dripping with concern.

“No…” You protested. “...I’m fine. I’ve only been here for like five minutes. They are going to think it’s weird. And won’t your friends have to leave too?”

“Who’s they?” Jack asked. “We made an appearance and it’s perfectly normal for celebs to leave early. Let’s just bounce.”

“They being everyone. The powers that be. The people who are doubting our relationship.” You explained. “Don’t they need to see more?”

“Like your tits spilling out of your dress?” Jack teased as he pretended to let you drop again.

“Jack!” You yelled, surprised at how loud your voice came out. You covered your mouth and giggled. This is what made Jack’s eyebrows raise.

“Y/n, how many drinks have you had?” Jack’s tone was serious again.

You bit your lip and put up a hand to show the number 5. It was like that settled it in Jack’s mind. Jack waved Urban over as he helped you to stand. You tried protesting, but saw from the way Jack’s jaw was set that there was nothing you could say to convince him now. He was taking you home. You hated to admit it, but you were kind of excited to be going to a celebrity after party. Yet 80% of your experience was sitting alone at the bar downstairs. This wasn’t the kind of experience that was going to make Micah hold their breath over bottomless mimosas.

The only consolation was Jack’s strong grip around you. His whole arm wrapped around your shoulders, crushing you to his side as he coordinated with his friends. He felt warm and smelled like what your dream home: clean and slightly floral. As you subconsciously snuggled into Jack, you felt his body stiffen. You clued into the conversation to understand what was going on.

“I figure Y/n is going to stay at our place tonight, right?” Urban asked as he texted their driver. “I mean, she’s pretty faded I’m sure you want to make sure she’s okay.”

“Right…” Jack said awkwardly. He looked down at you, searching your eyes for any objection. You were a deer in headlights. “...at least until she sobers up. Then she can decide if she wants to go back to her place.”

“Her place?” Urban frowned, looking at you both. “Did you move down here?”

“No.” You responded, just as Jack responded with “Yes.”

“Yes.” You quickly changed your response as Jack did the same by saying, “No.”

Urban narrowed his eyes. You could feel the same panic that was rising in you was also rising in Jack. As if finally on the same wavelength you and Jack both shouted, “AirBnB.”

Mostly from relief of syncing up you both laughed a little too hard. Urban frowned, nodding a bit as he excused himself to call the driver. You and Jack still had awkward smiles on your faces until he walked away. Jack removed his arm from around you and put his hands on your shoulders.

“I need a favor.” Jack started, before nibbling on his lower lip.

“What kind of favor?” You asked, a lump in your throat.

“When we get back, we need to pretend like we’re having sex.” Jack’s voice was so low and deadpan, you thought you misunderstood.

“What?” You harshly whispered.

“I know, I know. It’s just, with the way I am, it’s hard for my friends to believe that I have a girlfriend and we aren’t sleeping together.” Jack twisted his mouth to the side.

“Why can’t you just tell them we haven’t had sex yet? It’s not THAT strange.” You folded his arms.

“Not if you have a track history like me.” Jack tilted his head to the side before adding. “And not if you have a girlfriend that looks like you.”

Your cheeks warmed again as you frowned. “W-What?”

Jack seemed like he didn’t want to say it again, looking away from you. He took your hand in his and pulled you along. You followed him out of the club, your ability to walk a bit less impeded than before, but you were grateful for the guidance. Jack pulled you into the waiting car and held your hand on your way to his apartment. He was silent, as were the other guys in the car. You watched him, his Adam's apple bobbing as he kept swallowing on nothing. He stared at the window, taking deep breaths frequently. It wasn’t till you realized the grip on his hand that he was nervous. It never occurred to you to ask Jack how he felt about all of this. You assumed everyone in his circle was in on the deal, but it was clear that he didn’t tell anyone. You wondered how hard it would be in the next few weeks when the deal was done. Would he come clean or play the broken hearted act for a few months?

At some point, you had fallen asleep. It was probably the smooth motions of the car and the sound of Jack’s breathing as it calmed. When you woke up, your head was in Jack’s lap as you spread out on the couch. A blanket covered you and he was chatting with some friends. You felt awkward to sit up, but your mouth was dry and the a tall glass of water on the table looked tempting.

You sat up slowly and Jack lurched for the cup. He picked up and handed it to you. You thanked him as you put it to your lips and drank it slowly. It took a lot of willpower to not guzzle it. You were extremely thirsty.

“Do you want something to eat?” Jack asked, gesturing at the pizza boxes also on the table.

You shook your head, wondering how long were you out. You glanced around Jack’s apartment which seemed like a bachelors’ pad. The only decoration were Jack’s plaques and awards assigned to his other housemates. The furniture included the couch, a love seat, a tv stand, a coffee table, the tv and a stereo. There was no coaster in sight and there wasn’t enough ceramic plates for everyone, so most people used a paper plate.

“How are you feeling?” Jack asked.

You blinked and yawned. “Much more sober.” You voice came out a bit raspy.

“Here,” Jack grabbed a bread stick from a box and ripped off a piece and fed it to you. You opened your mouth and he popped it in there as he explained. “It’ll help your hangover tomorrow. Eat some more.”

You took the bread stick from him and took another bite. It wasn’t too salty or too oily so, it went down easily. You finished it quickly and he gave you another, holding your glass for you. Once you finished that he gave you back your glass of water for you to finish up. You sat there awkwardly, the blanket draped across your legs, your brain slowly registering everything. As Jack smoothed his hand over the back of your head, going back to his conversation, you suddenly realized that little display was done in front of his friends. It felt so natural. His friends didn’t even bat an eye. You blushed, realizing you were technically being pet in front of them, and got up.

“What do you need?” Jack asked looking up at you.

“Bathroom?” You asked.

Jack nodded. “Use the one in my room, first door on the right.”

You nodded, staring down the long hallway. As you walked to Jack’s room, you remembered his request to you at the club. He wanted you to pretend to have sex with him. In your mind, you pictured yourself as two porn star actors, with porn star bodies of course, using strategic angles to mask your nudity and the connecting of parts. You stifled a laugh as you entered the room. That was a little over the top, even for Jack.

Jack’s room was neat with lots of white. It made you a bit worried to touch anything in fear of leaving a mark. You found the bathroom and peed for what felt like an eternity. As you washed your hands, you gaped at your appearance. Your makeup had smudged around the eyes from sleeping and around the lips from….the kiss. You leaned against the sink, touching your lips subconsciously as you thought about the kiss. It was a great kiss and thinking about it made your heart beat faster.

You jumped when you heard the door open and footsteps enter Jack’s room. Jack leaned on the doorway of his bathroom smiling.

“Showtime?” You asked him.

“Almost…we can’t rush it. I’m a slow and intimate lover.” Jack grinned, pretending to massage the air.

You rolled your eyes and pushed past him. He followed you into his bedroom and you plopped down on the foot of his bed.

“How should we do this?” You asked him.

“I figured we could bounce on the bed, add a bit of moans, maybe make the headboard slam…” Jack shrugged. “Then about an hour or two from now, you slip on one of my shirts and walk into the kitchen to get water or something.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “You expect me to believe that you thought of that all just now?”

Jack laughed, sitting down next to you. “I’ve had a week to consider it. Since Urban implied that we had a sexual relationship.”

You shrugged and Jack frowned at your nonchalant response. You kicked off your shoes, kicking your feet as you stared out the windows to your right. Sensing that Jack was waiting for you to respond you quickly said,

“That makes sense.”

“Why?” Jack asked, alarming you.

You looked at him, your brows knitting together to create a line. “Well, it’s not like you’re known for being Mr. Commitment. And what else would the two of us be doing?”

“Perhaps we are having stimulating conversations?” Jack offered.

You laughed loudly. You were about to slap your knee when you saw the serious look in Jack’s eyes. Your cheeks burned as you turned your laugh into a cough. You just figured out he wasn’t joking.

“Jack,” Your voice came out gentle. “Can you really blame anyone for thinking we have nothing in common?”

“No, of course not.” Jack folded his arms. “But, you should know better. I mean, you wrote slides that have our similar interests and public talking points.”

“None of which we got to use today, by the way.” You added.

Jack turned his head, giving you a strange look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” You pressed your palms into your thighs, staring down at them. “...that we are two weeks into the agreement and it doesn’t seem like we have to do much of anything. Besides, this little fake sex charade. I’m happy to have the easy money, but I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” Jack asked. You could feel his eyes trained on your side profile.

“Yeah,” You laughed, still not looking at him. “It’s stupid, I know, but I guess I was excited to act the part of Jack Harlow’s girlfriend. I only told my business partner, Brenda, the truth since she came with me to Atlanta, but everyone else: my family, friends…they all think it’s true. I mean my best friend, Micah, they couldn’t believe it. Me? Y/n? Dating a rapper? I was kinda excited to play the part. Not be me for a bit.”

Jack groaned, shaking his head as he bent forward. His fingers raked his curls forward and you watched the ringlets straighten and spring under his grasp. He let out a few sighs before sitting up again, meeting your eyes.

“That’s what I’m talking about. Why do you and everyone else think that this can’t be real?” Jack asked. “Why do you have to put on a character to be my girlfriend? The whole reason you were chosen was because it’s supposed to be unexpectedly believable…”

Your eyebrows went up in surprise. “I guess it just seems like a mismatch of levels. I mean a 9 and 3, that’s a pretty big gap.” You chuckle softly.

Jack’s eyes widened. “A three? You think I’m a three?”

You sputtered out a life. “Oh god no…I was talking about myself. You’re the nine.”

“You’re the three?!” Jack practically shouted. “Are you out of your mind? You’re a solid 10, no doubt.”

“A 10…” You laughed. “You think I’m a 10?”

“An 11 when you smile.” He grinned at you and you felt yourself blush.

“You too…” You muttered. “I only gave you a nine in hopes of knocking you down a peg.”

“Ah right because I’m a…what was it? An annoying, arrogant asshole?” Jack repeated your words to you, grinning wider. “Isn’t that what you said on our first date?”

You bit your lip, not bothering to hold back a smile. “You have a good memory.”

“You’re very memorable.” Jack said, his hand dancing behind your ear and down your cheek.

The touch was feather light but each place his fingers touched were on fire. You swallowed, not expecting his gaze to be held by yours. You couldn’t look away. You could feel your stomach doing loop-di-loops and wondered how much of it was the alcohol in your system waiting to come up. You knew it was nothing, but butterflies.

You grabbed a pillow to hit him with it, earning a laugh as he caught it before it hit his face. “Shall we start?”

“Showtime!” Jack laughed.

He tossed the pillow to the top of the bed. You scooted back and jokingly tapped the space next to you. For some reason, you weren’t thinking about how short your dress was as it rode up your leg with each wiggle upward. You were too giddy about your little prank. Jack got off the bed and surprised you by belly flopping on the spot next to you. It made a large boom sound. You laughed and Jack laughed as well. You followed suit and began rolling on the bed, causing it to creak and rustle. Jack laid on his back rocking the bed back and for to give a test tap on the wall.

“Alright, we gotta sink these up.” Jack whispered, you could feel his warm breath on your ear. “I’ll hit it against the wall and you gotta give me your best moans. Got it?”

“Shouldn’t we do some foreplay first?” You whispered back.

Jack’s eyes widened as though for a second he thought you meant for real. He composed himself quickly. “What should we do?”

You blushed. “Turn away, I can’t do it if you’re watching me.”

Now, Jack was very confused, but he did as he was told. You rested your head on the bed and closed your eyes. You were nervous, but you decided that you would commit to your performance. You let out a loud moan. It wasn’t super theatrical, but it was not the usual sound you would make. You could feel Jack’s head snapping towards you from the movement on the bed, but you refused to open your eyes.

“Ah, right there…” You moaned out loudly. “...that’s the spot, Jack. Just like that.”

You heard a slap sound and realized it was Jack covering his mouth to stop from laughing. The slap sound was loud and, emboldened you decided to work it into the performance.

“Oh yeah…slap it again, Jack.” You let your voice sound soft and desperate.

You could feel Jack’s hesitance. Then you heard it, a loud slap. Most likely, he was slapping his own thigh because you didn’t feel anything on you.

“Yeah, that’s it. You know what I like…zaddy.” You were adding more breathy moans in between your words to make it more believable.

“I’m c-close,” You moaned out.

You could hear Jack shuffling next to you, keeping himself together. He gave a loud, husky whisper, “Not yet…”

You opened your eyes, surprised to see two dark blue ones staring down at you. There was a pause before both of your suck your own lips back in trying to hide your laughter. You covered your mouth, tears welding in your eyes. Jack let out a few loud breaths to keep his composure. You mouthed to him, “Your turn.” And he nodded.

“That’s a tough performance to beat.” He whispered into your ear.

He laid back on the bed and closed his eyes. This time you got to watch him. At this point, you noticed that he had changed from what he wore at the club. He was wearing a white hoodie and baggy gray sweat pants. In the dark of his room with only the light from the window peaking through, you couldn’t really make out his features. You filled them in because you knew them: the curve of his lips, the broadness of his shoulders, the narrowness of his hips and the size of his…whoa, how long had that been there?

Your eyes darted back up to his face, resisting the urge to take another peek. Jack let out a little whimper that was so high pitched and embarrassing that it had to be a real sound he would make. Unlike him, you could silence your laughter without making a loud slap and did so. He let out loud, throaty groans as he stroked the sheets beside him.

“Oh yeah…” Jack groaned out.

“You like when I do that?” You edged him on.

You saw his lips twitch into a smile, but he pressed them together. Once he got himself under control, he let himself speak again.

“Yeah, put that mouth to good use.” He grunted out. “Make me feel good like I know you can.”

You had never wanted to laugh and touch yourself at the same time. It was ridiculous. He was just laying there, hiding back his laughter making lewd noises and commands. And yet, it felt good. If you closed your eyes, you could imagine what it would be like to be actually with him.

“S-Sh!t…I’m gonna…” Jack groaned out. It sounded so real, you checked his crotch half expecting to see it damp. It was not--unlike yours--but it was a bit bigger than you remembered it. You weren’t going to point it out, of course. That would admitting that you looked in the first place.

“Put it in me…” You yelled, making Jack jump. He reminded you of small animal startled by a big noise. You felt bad, but it was way too funny for you to feel guilty for long.

You almost broke down and laughed if he didn’t leap forward and cover your mouth. He had that big grin he made whenever he wanted to stop laughing, but couldn’t stop himself. You held his hand to your mouth, tears pouring from your eyes. Jack shook his head, chuckling softly, resting his forehead on the bed. You could hear his soft laughs in your ear and it was soothing. You let go of his hand and he slowly lifted it from your mouth.

“Remember,” He whispered, not lifting his head yet.” We gotta sync up.”

“I know…” You whispered back.

Jack slammed the bed on to the wall and you let out a moan. He did it again and you gave a little grunt. At the third slam, he joined in and you both harmonized. This started another fit of laughter to which both face planted into the bed to control. He tapped your back three times to signal you were starting again. You flipped back on to your back, closing your eyes waiting for the sound of the headboard slamming against the wall. You moaned again, chanting his name. With the sounds of his grunts and groans and the feel of the bed swaying more and more, your body seemed to think that you were actually doing the deed. You felt warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach and some of the hot liquid making it to your nether regions. Your moans, while still put on, were a bit more real in their timidness.

“More, more…” You moaned out, happy that you didn’t have to hide your yearning. Your eyes squeezed shut, imagining Jack actually above, actually inside of you. The warmth radiating from his body made it feel too real. You fought back tears as you realized how much you kinda wanted this to be real. Even if it was just for tonight, to enjoy this wonderful benefit of being Jack’s girlfriend that everyone assumed you already indulged in. For now, you had to settle for the quick rhythm of the bed, propelled unfortunately by Jack’s feet and not his hip thrusts.

“Give it to me, baby.” Jack grunted, his voice sounding raspy and hoarse.

The part of you that liked torturing yourself made you wonder if he was thinking the same thing as you. If he was also wondering if you could break one of the many rules on those slides.

“F-ck, Y/n.” Jack groaned out.

“Ah…Jack…”

Jack kept up the rhythm as he slowed it down naturally. When you opened your eyes, it was like coming back to life. Jack had just opened his eyes as well and you were both laying on the bed like two children making snow angels side by side. You were both actually sweating, but not as much as if you had actually done the deed. You were also both panting, but again not as much. You sat up, quickly glancing at his groin and felt a wave of disappointment at seeing that, while still prominent, there was no wet spot on his crotch. You wished you could say the same for your own underwear.

“So, how long should I wait before Operation: Get Water From Kitchen?” You asked in a whisper.

“You can change now, if you like.” Jack offered. “If we do that, we can still get you home in a couple hours.”

Right. That was the deal. You wouldn’t be spending the night. Even for a fake relationship, it would be a lot to share a bed. You could easily think up an excuse to tell his friends if they saw you leaving. Early meeting tomorrow. Brunch with Brenda. Need real shampoo. Anything would do. There was no point in being upset or sad about it. You were getting paid $150,000 in a couple of weeks to not have sex with someone. How many people got this lucky?

You bit back your lip to hide your frustration. You stood up, trying not to look at Jack as you felt emotions welding up inside of you. You finally realized that you felt rejected. After all that talk about being a eleven and you couldn’t even spend the night. Shouldn’t he be crawling at the chance to spend the night with you?

“Where can I get a shirt?” You asked.

“Top drawer.” Jack pointed to the dressing table.

You opened it and grabbed a bright yellow shirt. You unfolded it and it was about the length of the midi dress you had on. You walked into the bathroom and closed the door. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tears welding in your eyes. You felt silly for getting aroused. You felt rejected for being the only one. You felt angry that you didn’t have the guts to just go for it. You did your best to remove your make up with the face wash Jack had on the side of the sink. Then you slipped off your dress and replaced it with the shirt. It felt comfortable. So, comfortable, wearing a bra felt like it defeated the purpose so you slipped that off too. You folded your dress and put it on the counter, laying your bra on top. You walked out to see Jack still laying face up on the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at you. You jokingly rested on hand on the doorframe and posed.

Jack grinned at you with those perfect straight, white teeth that glistened in the light from the window. “Perfect…” He whispered.

You felt that one right between your legs. You gave him a soft smile as you marched out of the room and into the hallway. It didn’t take acting to pretend to be embarrassed as you walked out. Some of his housemates and a few other friends were still in the living room. You pretended to hide your face as you walked out and into the kitchen. A few of them gave you slow claps making you let out a soft laugh. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you poured two glasses of water. None of them said anything else as you sped past them back to Jack’s bedroom. You had left the door slightly ajar so you were able to kick it open. You placed the water on the table he had next to the door and turned around to close.

“I think they bought it…” You said, turning around.

And there was Jack standing shirtless with his gray sweatpants hanging low at his waist. His curly hair was tousled from him playing with it earlier and looked golden brown in the reflection of the street lights. He looked broad and strong. His stomach was flat, but soft. Your throat got dry as you followed the happy trail of hair to his crotch and saw just how hung he was.

“I was worried if Urban was going to walk in so, I figured I would take off some stuff too…” Jack said, sheepishly.

“Uhm, yeah…makes sense.” You looked away from and sat on the further edge of the bed.

“Y/n…” You could hear the smile in Jack’s voice. “...thank you for this. I promise after it’s done, I’ll explain to them.”

“No, it’s fine.” Your response came out high and squeaky and way too fast. It seemed to startle Jack. He didn’t move for a moment. You were sitting there, trying to calm yourself down. Your heart was pounding and your face felt so hot you thought it would fall off.

“Y/n…I know what’s happening” Jack said in a low voice.

“What do you mean?” You asked, whipping your head around. “Nothing’s happening.”

“You’re uncomfortable…” Jack said, sitting on the far edge of the bed looking at you. “Because I’m on brick. It’s a natural thing…I promise it’ll go down. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“Afraid of you?” You frowned. “Why would I be afraid?”

“I mean, what kind of guy gets turned on from fake sex?” Jack shook his head with a laugh.

“Anyone who watches soft core porn?” You offered.

Jack gave a half laugh, most of it coming out as air passing through his nose. “This is like ten times worse…it’s like…”

“Like what?” You asked. Your mind was already filling in the blank. It’s like I don’t actually want to sleep with you.

Jack looked away from you and for a moment you saw someone who wasn’t always confident. Just for a second before he met your eyes once more. “Like I am incapable of being around you without getting like this.”

“I mean isn’t this the first time?” You offered. The silence was a shocker.

Jack cleared his throat. “No.” He laughed a bit, glancing down.

It was your turn to fall silent. You weren’t sure if you should tell him the truth. That you were also having inappropriate thoughts about your fake boyfriend. Or, would it be better to keep it quiet and let nature run its course until you had to leave. You thought about how you felt in the bathroom: sad, rejected, and horny. If you went home, you would feel all those things, but also cowardly. You were a go-getter. You never backed down for your company, why should you settle for yourself?

You swallowed. You scooted closer to Jack and saw him tense up a bit. He was looking down at you, mostly at your lips as you inched forward. You stopped when you were sat right next to him.

“Would you like to…?” You bit your lip, staring at him intently.

“Would I like to what?” Jack asked, cupping your face in his hand. As you visibly relaxed into his touch, you could see the smile stretching across his lips.

“You know…” You blushed as his thumb rubbed circles into your cheek.

“I want to hear you say it.” Jack said, inching closer to your face. “I really want to make sure we are on the same page here, because it will be so so so terrible if we’re not.”

“F-ck…for real.” The words left your lips only for a second before Jack’s lips crashed on to yours. You let out a satisfied sigh, as he scrambled into his lap, your moist core resting on top of his excited groin. That earned you the deepest and throatiest groan from Jack you heard all night.

“You’re perfection…” He moaned against your lips, his hands caressing your body through his shirt and he kissed you hungrily.

You kissed back, wrapping your arms and legs around him, not wanting to let go. Your hips slowly grinded into him and Jack tossed his head back, thus breaking the kiss. Swears fell out of his mouth including ones you were pretty sure he had made up.

“Wouldn’t they wonder…if they hear us again?” Your voice was breathy.

Jack smirked as he tossed you on the bed and climbed on top of you. He gave you another peck on the lips earning him a bright smile from you.

“They’ll think it’s round two.” Jack mused.

He gave you another kiss on the neck and into the crevice of your neck said, “And maybe, three…”

He gave you another kiss on the collarbone and added, “And maybe four…”

You let out a moan and Jack pulled back to smile at you. “Your real ones sound even better…”

You weren’t able to think of much of a response because before you knew it, you saw a mess of curly hair in between legs and tickling your core.

For the next couple of weeks after your actual night of passion, other aspects of your relationship with Jack were feeling less fake. You had one last public date which was at Six Flags. The rest of your meetings with Jack were oddly secret.

There were the times he would sneak in after a business meeting with a potential school or legislator with a your hot beverage of choice. There were times where it was you popping into the studio to bring him lunch. You both texted all the time about dumb stuff from weird dreams to conspiracy theories.

You started to rely on the slides less and less when asked about your relationship by Micah or your parents. You would stare at your phone hoping that it would light up with a notification from Jack saying he was outside your apartment after a long night…only for you two to make it longer. You could tell that you really liked Jack and was dreading that next week was your break up week. Brenda, who was the only other person who frequently saw you in-person was starting to ask too many “what-ifs.” Her favorite was “what if you don’t break up?” Her second favorite? “What if you let it be real?”

Every time you thought about it, there was a lump in your throat. After years of working with pro-bono lawyers, there was one set of advice that never changed. Always read the contract. And you did. Your contract with Jack’s agency stated that you would receive the remaining payment of $150,000 on the day of your and Jack’s break up. You and Jack needed to break up in order for you to get the check. There was property being bought and employees being hired in Atlanta. You needed that money and the later investment that came with it. If you cut the project short, word would get around. People would put two and two together and realize that you ended a project because of a break-up. Not the greatest look for a woman empowering other women in STEM. So, you shoved down the idea in the depths of your soul. Even though every single text from Jack felt like a dagger and hot tears rolled down your eyes after every sweet “good night” he said before ending your nightly call. This wasn’t the first time you had chosen your business over yourself and it wouldn’t be the last. This pain was familiar, but it didn’t make it easy.

It was a random tweet that made Jack realize how badly he had it for you. It was a picture snapped of you two at Six Flags. You were both standing in front of a concession stand and you were deciding between a milkshake and Dippin�� Dots. Jack was waiting for the opportunity to tell you that he was going to get you both. He would buy the whole dang Dipping Dots vending machine and bring it home if that’s what you wanted. And yet, it wasn’t that thought that told him that he was down bad. It was the picture captured showing the way he looked at you and the tweet adding the caption, “Crying and throwing up because no one looks at me the way Jack looks at Y/n.”

‘Dammit.’ Jack thought letting out a deep breath. He put his phone down and called Sammy. He didn’t know what he was going to say so, when Sammy picked up quickly, he babbled a bit.

“Ay, Sammy!” Jack said.

“Jack!” Sammy yelled. “Yo, man,I gotta tell you, the numbers are looking good. We have sold out of your merch in the last two weeks. Last week, you trended under #BFJack. I mean, this has been great…worth every penny. Great work.”

“Well, it hasn’t been much work, if I’m being honest.” Jack chuckled softly.

“Yeah, I’ve heard you’ve been enjoying the benefits of having Y/n as a girlfriend.” Jack could imagine Sammy shaking his head. “Glad you’re really getting into character.”

“Listen, what if this isn’t a character, Sammy?” Jack finally blurted out. “What if I wanted this to be more?”

There was a silence on the phone. Jack could hear the sound of a printer whirring in the background and a cooler lightly bubbling with water. He was a bit concerned Sammy had passed out because he couldn’t hear him breathe.

“Jack, that would put Y/n in a serious bind.” Sammy’s voice was in his lawyer tone, the one he claims he no longer had after he left corporate law after two years for marketing. “If she’s actually your girlfriend, we have no standing to support her chapter. She’s not an investment in your future anymore, she’s just a sugar baby.”

Jack frowned deeply. “Don’t talk about her like she’s some thing. She’s still my girlfriend.”

“For the next week.” Sammy reminded him, a bit coldly. “After that she gets a big fat $150,000 check and, if the deals I negotiate go well, a total of $300,000 spaced out over the next three years.”

“She’s not materialistic.” Jack argued. His head was starting to hurt from frowning so deeply. “She doesn’t care about money like that. I’m sure if--”

“Don’t put her in that position, Jack.” Sammy said, warningly. “Look, Jack. I’m glad that you are finally feeling the little flutters in your belly for someone because, honestly, I don’t think you have for the three years I’ve known you. But, I’m sorry that it’s for her. That girl is tough as nails, but she has a breaking point. If I can’t get her this money, her career is going to go in the toilet after she fails to make this Atlanta chapter and she will probably bankrupt herself trying. Don’t forget that she is getting paid because YOUR reputation got the boost. That was your payment, don’t deny her hers.”

Jack hung up the phone. He would apologize to Sammy later, but he was angry. He knew Sammy was right, but he hated it. He knew you would pick him. Without much thought, Jack made his way to your apartment. He was filled with a range of emotions by the time he made it your door. He stormed in, pushing past you. You closed the door as you murmured, “Hello to you too.”

“I just talked to Sammy!” Jack yelled, spinning around to face you, still near the door. “You know what he said? He said that we can’t be together after this week. Like not even if we break up and get back together. He said you are in it for the money. But he doesn’t know about us? What does he know?”

Jack was breathing heavy when he finally stopped to look at you. You were standing there, avoiding his eyes. Jack glanced around the apartment. All of your stuff was in a suitcase with a few items on the couch, about three days worth. Most of the clothes he gave you, unworn, were on the other side of the couch neatly folded. The synapses in his brain started firing and he looked at you incredulously.

“You’re really ready to end it?” He asked, the crack in his voice surging through you.

“Jack…” You stepped closer to him. There was no reaction from Jack. His eyes were dead, his body limp and lifeless. He had already given up. “....baby,” The nickname rolled off your tongue so easily over the last few weeks, but for some reason it was choked in your throat.

“I realize that I was the one didn’t know anything.” Jack’s voice was not the usual smooth drawl. It was dark. You recognized it immediately as pain. It was like some kicked him in the stomach, and that someone was you. His lip curved into a half smile as he scoffed. “I-I uh thought this was going somewhere. I thought you actually liked me.”

“I did!” You walked closer to him. “I do!”

Jack stepped away from you and your eyes widened. You continued, “It’s just that without the money…”

“You would ruin your precious career, I get it.” Jack was looking through you, his blue eyes were so clear and glossy.

You face tightened. “Yes, my career, Jackman.”

“There you go with the government name…” Jack muttered rolling his eyes.

“You don’t get it do you?” You stepped closer to him. “What do you lose by us staying together? Nothing. What do I lose? My reputation and $150,000 plus whatever Sammy is able to squeeze out later. That’s five people I have to tell they don’t have a job. That’s three investors I have to inform that they money will be returned to them. That’s 100 students who will be told that the surprise their computer science teacher has been hinting at for weeks fell through. What do you lose if we break up after the designated date? Nothing. What do I lose? My reputation and $150,000---oh wait, the exact same thing.”

You pretended to slap your forehead like you just figured it out. “Don’t you get, Jack Harlow? You lose nothing from continuing this. But when you move on to the next Keisha or Araceli, I would have nothing. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t want more, but I have to think outside of…” You hesitated for just a moment. “...five weeks of infatuation.”

Jack nodded slowly. “You’re right, I get it.” Jack sucked in his lower lip still nodding slowly. “Nah, you’re right. It’s actually good that we end it now. After all, if you think I’m just going to move on from you in such a flash, what’s the point in even trying?”

Tears welded in your eyes. You shook your head, “Come on, Jack. Everyone knows that kind of guy you are.”

“No, everyone thinks they know who I am.” Jack glared down at you, “but only a few people get to see all sides of me. The truly vulnerable sides of me. I thought you were one of them.”

Jack moved past you and walked towards the door. He reached out for the doorknob, but then stopped and turned around.

“I know it may seem to you and Sammy that I have nothing to lose, but I have my freaking pride, Y/n. I would have put all of it on the line if it meant that I could have you. I would have gladly stood up to whatever label or powers that be who said anything about me continuing to support your business. I would have put my career on the line. It’s great you and him were so worried about protecting you. But, damn, could you at least try to think about us?”

Jack paused as if giving you a chance to speak. You couldn’t say anything to that. Jack opened the door and slammed it shut. The sound triggered the tears to fall from from your eyes. Loud sobs left your lips as you shook with sadness. You needed someone to tell you that you did the right thing. Because you regretted everything at the moment.

You appreciated the fact that Micah hugged you and heard you out before scolding you for lying to them. The moment you saw their rainbow curls trudging into the apartment, tears were streaming down your cheeks. Micah tossed their suitcase to the side as they embraced you. They took the first red-eye flight out of SF to be by your side. Micah consoled you while Brenda busied herself with the copy of your contract.

“Look,” Micah said, “I see where both of you are coming from. I mean 200 thou is a lot of money for the org, Y/n. I mean, my little LGBTQ+ sector would thrive in Atlanta. We have so many queer and BIPOC cons here, it would be like networking city. At the same time, if a man was buying me gifts, bringing me coffee, singing me lullabies to sleep over FaceTime, and willing to--and I quote--put my career on the line for us…”

Micah re-enacted the TikTok meme of them slamming their credit card on the table. You laughed a bit, but a few tears streaked out thinking about how wonderful Jack had been to you. If Jack was the playboy that every said he was, either he had a lot of time on his hands and invested way too much into his side pieces, or, he was down bad for you.

“What can I do?” You asked. “I mean the contract is pretty clear. And even if Brenda finds a loophole, I doubt Jack wants anything to do with me.”

“Feelings don’t expire because of one argument, Y/n.” Micah reminded you. “But, you may need to kiss his ass. Maybe literally if he’s into that.”

That got a deep, belly-shaking laugh from you. Brenda sat back, grasping your attention. You and Micah looked at her expectantly.

“So, there isn’t much you can do about the funds through these channels if you and Jack don’t break up next week.” Brenda gave you an apologetic look. “However, if Jack were to make the donations on his own, it could work.”

“You mean, ask Jack for $150,000?” You asked. A pit developed in your stomach as you gulped.

Brenda nodded. “As well as become a long time donor.”

“I can’t ask Jack for money!” You argued, throwing your hands in the air. “That’s like asking him to pay me to be his girlfriend. He already thinks I’m money hungry…”

Micah shook their head. “I think you misunderstood, Jack. I don’t think he was mad about you needing the money. I think he was mad that you didn’t think you could solve the problem together.”

“What do you mean?” You turned towards Micah, a clench in your chest. Could there be hope?

“Think about it. Jack was not angry at you until he saw that you had given up. He was mad at Sammy because had as well. He expected that of his agent, but I’m sure Jack thought you would have more faith in him than that.”

A pang of regret hit your chest. You knew Micah was right. If you told Jack, like a partner, what was going on, he would have happily brainstormed ideas. Instead of being glad that your feelings were mutual, you pushed Jack away. You made the decision to end your relationship without once asking him how he felt. If you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t have just stormed away, dejected. You would have keyed his car.

“How do I fix this?” You asked looking between Brenda and Micah.

The two of them shared a look before looking back at you. “We can’t answer that, sweetheart.” Brenda said. “You know Jack better than we do…”

Jack stared at his friends, their mouths wide open as he told them the full story. After spending a day being snippy, he figured he should at least tell them why. He had the hood on his hoodie up as he saw in the love seat, legs wide and arms folded. He kept his head down, unable to look his friends in the eyes.

“Any questions?” Jack asked.

“So, all the sex and gifts were fake?” Someone asked, from the voice he guessed it was Quiso.

Jack shook his head, tightening his jaw. “Nope, that was real.” He tipped his head from side to side. “Except for that one time we pretended to have sex, but then we actually had sex like fifteen minutes later.”

“And she is breaking up with you because her company needs the money?” Someone else clarified which sounded like Urban.

Jack nodded. “Yup. That’s what matters to her.”

‘Definitely not me.’ Jack thought, bitterly.

“Do you still want to be with her?” That question made Jack jump to his feet. He almost fought the person who asked. If he could tell who it was, the voice was timid, it wasn’t clear who it came from. His eyes were blown and his chest was heaving. All of his friends stared at him wide eyed.

“I’m going to take a walk.” Jack announced.

No one stopped him. Not like he was surprised. After that little display, he doubted anyone would talk to him for awhile.

Jack stepped out of his apartment complex. The Atlanta night air was cool. It was quite dark for 7pm and already pretty empty. It was a Thursday night, two days before you signed your name to a contract and told Sammy to end your relationship. He walked down half a block, sighing loudly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up to see someone standing in front of him. It was you. He blinked a few times as if expecting you to vanish before his eyes.

“Can we talk?” You asked him.

Jack gave a slow nod, “Let’s walk and talk.”

You nodded starting to match his stride as he walked past you. You could feel Jack slowing down to keep to your speed. You smiled to yourself, wondering how much he consciously and subconsciously put your needs before his.

“I want to apologize.” You could feel yourself starting to cry, but stopped yourself. You had to get this out. “I’m so sorry I made the decision without even consulting you. To be honest, a part of me was so happy when you came in, talking about how you wanted to continue being my boyfriend. My real boyfriend. And then, reality set in. My company, my insecurities, my prejudgments…all of it clouded the absolute joy I felt knowing that you like me back. So, I shoved the feeling down and did what I was supposed to do. That’s what business women, scientist and engineers do. We get stuff done regardless of how it makes us feel.”

You let out a shaky breath. “But the moment you left, Jack, I felt broken. I was torn apart because I love this company and our mission so much, but I was going to give it all up because--” You hesitated. “--I was falling in love.”

Jack’s footsteps stopped, both of you standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He turned to face you, his hoodie blocking you from his view otherwise. His eyes were brimmed with tears, but he didn’t let them fall out.

“I was crushed yesterday when you said what you said.” Jack confessed. “I felt so defeated. I kept wondering what I did to make you feel like I wasn’t actually into you. Or, even worse, that I was not willing to support and invest in your dreams. I have $150,000, Y/n. And I could get you $300,000 over the course of three years. In fact, with the right corporate sponsors and support from my fans, I could even double it.”

A couple tears rolled down your cheeks. Brenda and Micah were right. Apparently they did know Jack as well as you did. They both remembered that Jack wasn’t just “Jack Harlow” but a human being who liked you and wanted to make you happy. Somehow, you had forgotten that. Jack pressed a hand to his chest.

“And another thing. Even if we did break up, I am a man of my word. If I promised your organization $300,000 over the course of three years, then you would get those checks even if I sent my lawyer to deliver them. I only invest in what I believe in, and I believe in you, Y/n. I believe in us and I was willing to invest in that by going against my agent. You don’t think that’s putting my career on the line?”

As more tears tickled out, Jack’s hard stare began to soften. He gently wiped away your tears, not seeming to care that each one wiped away was replaced by two or three more.

“I know it’s only been a little over a month, but I’m falling for you too, Y/n.” Jack whispered. “Can’t we at least try to see where this goes?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “I would, with your investment or none. I really want this Jack, I do.”

Jack smiled and leaned in to give you a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands supported your back. You let your right foot slowly extend upward in a bent position, laughing against his lips.

“What?” Jack whispered.

“My foot popped.” You giggled softly.

“Is that Y/n Y/L/n quoting the Princess Diaries?” Jack mimicked you from your first date.

You chuckled, whispering his previous words back to him. “Why is that shocking? I am very into film.”

“I said cinema.” Jack teased.

“That’s not your line.” You teased back.

“I don’t know if I would consider that a cinematic masterpiece.” Jack recited, emphasizing cinematic dramatically.

“2000s movies have a special place in my heart.” You grinned.

“Just like you…” Jack added.

You smiled and pecked Jack on the lips “Just like you…”

A/N: If you made it down here, you’re a rockstar! Just wanna say the Pete Davidson jokes were just low hanging fruit, not hate to our real life Y/n. ♥ Hope you enjoyed it. Sorry for any typos or missing warnings. Lmk if I messed up lol

#jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #r-writes-fic

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wizkiddx · 3 years ago

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hiiiii !!! if you are accepting requests at the moment, can i ask something about reader and tom expecting a baby, one day while he’s drunk she sees him flirting with another women and when she confronts him he snaps at her and tells her he’s not ready for this “shit”. So they broke up and broke contact for months, until he shows in her apartment regretting his words and they talk but she suddenly at that moment gets into labor?!? I remember seeing a concept similar in a movie but I would love if you couldn’t bring it to life! Thank you so much in advance, appreciate your work a lot 🧸🤎

right so I loved this so much it has become a multiple parter and im not even going to apologise. so thanku so so much anon for getting me out a little rut!!!

summary: when toms caught out all hope looks lost - probs part 1 of 3 but it could get a bit longer too lol

warnings: serious angst, reference to abortion, cheating, a whole lot of swearing (im British sorry not sorry)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi babe, just to let you know Yamna’s invited me out for dinner this evening so don’t worry if you get home early and im not back! I love you x”

It was a spur of the moment plan, which was a rarity recently. The past 5 months since you’d found out, you could name barely 5 occasions you’d been out past 8 oclock- trading your heels for fuzzy slippers and dresses for massively oversized tops and joggers. It wasn’t how you had expected to be spending the summer before your 25th birthday but it was now your life. The rooftop bars, the wild nights, the get aways had all sort of been cancelled for… for the rest of your life.

Because an 8 month pregnant belly isn’t something you can ignore.

Sure…. it wasn’t the plan. Not the plan to be pregnant with your boyfriend of only 6 months, who at the time you didn’t even live with. But you were making it work. And now, you were just excited. It was the start of a new story with Tom, and you’d got past the phase of being sad and mourning your youth. Because the little bubba inside of you, she was pretty awesome and you really couldn’t wait to meet her.

So yes, you had been home alone eating ice cream from a tub when Yamna knocked on the door. She’d been one of your best mates for as long as you could remember so when she’d turned up unannounced with mascara smeared under her eyes you’d cancelled your plans of a pathetic alone evening. Her boss had just given her the sack - which was no surprise. He was a backwards tory old git who couldn’t handle the fact Yamna was a woman doing the job better than he could ever dream of.

So yes, you’d suggested going out to the fancy new bar down the road - to celebrate the fact she no longer had to put up with the arsehole. Obviously you couldn’t drink and neither did Yamna, but you go to a bar for the atmosphere - and the selection of mocktails they had was insane.

Your boyfriend Tom was already out, he said he had a meeting and then dinner with some execs he needed to shmoosh. Of course you didn’t mind, but he had been working a lot recently, in order to be able to have the time off when your baby girl arrives.

So after sending a little text and giving Yamna another hug to try and turn the evening from disappointment to celebration you walked out the door with a smile on your face. Maybe you could pretend, just for an evening to not be pregnant and whale-like?

///////////////////////////

The bar was just a 10 minute walk so it wasn’t long before the two of you were soaking up the atmosphere. It was all decorated in a rustic fashion, with old exposed wood and dangling lightbulbs from the ceiling and the drinks were incredible. The type that have dry ice or flames or some other sort of fantastical display of edible decorations. Even Yamna had perked up, especially when a guy from the table across had bought you both a round of drinks.

“I’m just gonna pop to the loo.”

“Do you really need the toilet or do you just want to parade infornt of the fit rich man who keeps looking at you?”

“ Is both an option?” You laughed as Yamna slipped off her stool, winking rather dramatically as she did so. She was unbelievable - but at least this way she wasn’t thinking about her work, or lack thereof, anymore.

Happily you sat scrolling though your phone, seeing that tom had messaged you with an okay, before flicking through instagram.

And that was where the happiness ended.

For in a hurried manner, with a face looking a lot more ghosted than when she left, Yamna took her seat again.

“Are you okay?” Immediately your worry took over, the way she was biting her lip and not meeting your eyes not helping.

“I um yeh-yeh. Just I think I saw Tom.”

“Tom as in my Tom?” Her almost guilty looking nod had your scrunching your eyebrows, why was it such a big deal Tom was inside?

“He didn’t see me I don’t think but er… he just looked pretty close to a girl and I-“

To be honest you stopped listening at that point, heart dropping out the bottom of your chest. Because it made sense, he had been so distant recently and even if you’d been lying to yourself that it were work - this seemed much more likely. Whilst nodding along, pretending to listen to Yamna, instead your attention was solely focused on fiddling with the promise ring he’d got you after the two of you decided to keep the baby. He’d been so committed, so ready for this unexpected news. He’d said he was in for the long haul.

“Y/n?”

“sorry I um… it’s probably just a work colleague he needs to sweet talk. I’ll um-I’ll just go say hello.”

“I’m coming with you.” She spoke astutely, very much forcing herself into the situation.

“No no I’ll… I’ll come back if I need you, just wait here.”

Her face was so grim and destitute, as much as you were pretending it was okay - you knew it wasn’t. Before Yamna could protest further, you slipped off your seat ( clumsily thanks to the elephant belly) and walked with fake confidence back inside.

It took you barely 3 seconds to hone in on Tom, call it mothers intuition. He was on a booth in the corner with 5 others on his table but none of whom you recognised. It was 2 other guys and 3 girls - the six all paired off in mathcingly initimate conversations. Apart from that you payed almost zero attention to the others, attention solely focused on your boyfriend and the girl he had his arm round.

She was everything you weren’t. She was skinny - you, as previously mentioned, looked like you had a beachball stuffed under your top. She was blonde with sleek and perfectly styled waves at the tips of her long her - yours was thrown into a messy bun due to the last minute plans.

Most importantly - right now she was wrapped in Toms arms, whilst you stood alone watching.

God knows what came over you, but with confidence you never normally had you marched up to the table, just waiting at the end. One of the men you didn’t recognised, arrogantly asked you ‘can I help you’ - but you completely disregarded it, eyes solely fixed on Tom. He took a moment more to look away from the leggy girl, but as soon as he did his eyes grew massively wide.

“Y/n I-I-“

“Fancy bumping into you, I thought you were out with work executives?” Frantically casting his gaze across the table, you could see the cogs whirring to try and come up with an explanation.

“No I-I was but then Charlie here came over, we used to be mates at school and-“

“Oh fuck off Tom., I cant deal with this right now.”

You didn’t even have the energy to listen to his clearly fake excuses as to why he’d landed himself in that situation. You also certainly did not have it in you to maintain the strong face, you could feel everything shattering inside of you.

Because it was so blindingly obvious by how he had acted. You’d caught him out and you both knew it.

And it fucking hurt like hell.

So you exited the bar as fast as physically possible, hearing the shouts of both Yamna and Tom behind you. You didn’t know what you needed in that moment - except that neither of them were the answer. Tom though, presumably the faster of the two, managed to catch up - grabbing your arm to make you halt in the road.

There was this moment between the two of you that time almost seemed to freeze. The two of you, in an otherwise pretty empty residential street, at 9:30 at night, in a moment that you would never have again. From your point of view, you saw the slightly bloodshot and bleary eyes, widened with panic and fear. For Tom he saw the floods of tears down your cheeks, which you hadn’t even noticed were freely streaming.

But in that moment there was, at least, the slightest bit of peace. The slightest bit of hope - that he could explain, that he had some ludicrous but valid reason for the situation you had walked in on. Just a smidgen of hope that this were recoverable.

But then he had to open his bloody mouth.

“Y/n I swear nothing-“

“That didn’t look like fucking nothing!”

“It was I swear! We just-“

“Tom this is your one and only chance. I don’t care if your off your face, if you don’t give my a miracle of a reason as to what the fuck THAT was - then I’m gone.”

“Don’t say that Y/n, you don’t mean th-“ He tried to grab your hand which you snatched away, like you had just scalded it on a hot plate. Like he had hurt you.

“I swear to god I’ve never meant anything more. So cut the shit.”

“FIne-fine! Um so we were at the meeting and then on the way out I bumped into George and hes been a good mate of mine for years.” All you did was hum, arms crossed and making sure you had a metre of distance between the two of you.

“So he said god you look like you need a drink and I agreed because its been stressful as hell recently.”

“Oh its been stressful; for YOU has it? I’m so sorry Thomas, has it been hard for you while i’ve been throwing my lungs up with morning sickness? Has it been stressful that I’ve been running on zero hours sleep because she kicks me all bloody night? ” Your words were laced in a posioned sarcasm, to which Tom just stammered to.

“Please just let me.” Given he was supposed to be fighting for you, he sounded pretty darn defeated already.

“I said yes to the drink.” He skipped out the bit that had angered you, to which you rolled your eyes at. “And one turned into two and more and then I don’t know-“

“Your going to have to try a lot harder than that.” You deadpanned, taking a small step further back still.

“I mean it! The girls were all his friends and we were just talking.”

“Just talking? All pressed up and arms round her?”

“Yes!” As indignant as he retorted, it didn’t not make up for what you had seen with your own eyes.

“Your such a bullshitter Tom!”

“God why wont you just listen to me?” He cried, wobbly doing a little 360 on the spot, in what appeared to be exasperation.

“Because your just spouting fucking lies! And you try and blame it all on poor little tommo being stressed which is-“

“I HAVE BEEN! Running round after you! I’m just tired of this shit!!! So kill me, for having one night of freedom!”

Tom was too deep in his angry lecture to take any notice of you. Which is why, once finished, he waitied, breath heavy and nose flaring. He was waiting for you to scream back at him. To give it back. He was too drunk to notice the change in your demeanor.

“I’m tired of this shit.”

It was just reverberating round your head. Again and again and again. He was tired of your relationship and you hadn’t even become parents yet. He was at his wits-end and the baby was still unborn. What the fuck was going to happen when baby arrived? Clearly there was no hope. It was dead. Your relationship was dead with no chance of revival.

Because he’d said it. Your relationship was shit, and nobody can put up with something they hate for that long. Not 18 years. Not while bringing up a child.

So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

?to be continued?

~~~~~~~~~~gahhhh I hope u enjoyed! I also REALLY CANNOT THINK OF A NAME FOR THIS MINISERIES --> if anyone can think of something pls inbox me!!! ~~~~~~~~

tom taglist: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @Elishi03 @arctic-monkcys @Ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol

#tom x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland angst #tom holland one shot #tomholland #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #angsty #pregnant!reader

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esther2252 · 2 years ago

Text

Since I have no one to talk to, I will just write all the bad things that happened to me or are still happening:

- my dad cheated on my mom and had a daughter with the other woman and forced my mom to tell us (her children: my 2 brothers, my sister and I) that we have a half-sister and then forced us to have contact with her

- my dad bought/buys my half sister everything she asks for and declines whenever it’s me or my sister asking for anything. Example: my sister and I wanted a Barbie house when we were younger and my dad said it’s useless but when my half sister asked for a Barbie house he bought her the most expensive one immediately

- I am a refugee, fled from my country when I was 7 and never been there again and my granddad (who loved me the most from all of his grandkids) died waiting for me to visit him in my homeland from a heart attack 2 years ago

- I have been fighting with my weight and ed in general for over 8 years now

- on my 10th birthday we went to amusement park with my whole family and my family bodyshamed me for the entire time we were there. I knew nothing about it till we arrived at home and I watched the videos my mom took of that day on her phone and every 2 seconds there was a comment from either my mom, dad or cousin or whatever about how fat I am and that the rollercoaster will break down because of me (reminder: I was only 10 years old.. AND it was my birthday) since then I’ve never ever been to an amusement park again… I know that over 8 years have passed now but it still hurts to this day and when someone in my family mentions amusement park I can’t hold back my tears because of the pain I felt. After I watched the videos I cried for 2 weeks straight every night

- my family is very religious and traditional.. like TOXIC religious and traditional. I am agnostic/atheist and can’t tell them because they won’t accept my own opinion and my own belief. My mom always forces me to pray and can’t accept anything I say when I say I don’t believe in their religion stuff

- my family is very strict about school and education so when i failed my class a few years back and had to repeat it, I didn’t tell them and acted like everything was fine and faked my grades on my school certificate and everything. It went on till last year when my mom finally found out about me lying all the time about my grades and yea.. wasn’t that nice of an experience

- I lost almost every friend I had.

- I think I might fail this school year and the possibility of it happening is big. I don’t wanna fail

- my dad is never with us, leaves and comes whenever he likes it and now sometimes I feel uncomfortable around him

- after my mom found out that my dad cheated she didn’t leave him because of us (her children) and now I feel guilty about it

- I moved about 5 times till my family was accepted in this country because every other country sent us back to my homeland

- my family is sexist, homophobic, racist and every bad thing you can imagine

- my brothers/dad don’t do anything all day around the house, just my sister, my mom and I doing all the house work even though I go to school from 8am to 2pm and feel extremely tired I still have to help my mom and the “men” don’t have to do anything because men don’t do “girly” stuff like house chores. If I could I would like to punch my brothers and my dad so bad

- even though I am 18 now and am legal my family still doesn’t allow me to move away from them. Everytime I say “I am gonna move out when I am financially stable” they say “who will allow you that? You’ll stay with us till you marry someone”

- I can’t be with anyone other than my own nationality. I liked a guy in my school and he had another nationality than my family and I showed him to my mom and she said “forget him, you aren’t allowed to marry someone who isn’t a part of us” and since then I only had celebrity crushes because I know I won’t be able to date someone in secret because I live in a small town where everyone knows each other

- I am not allowed to wear almost everything. No jeans, no pants, no tank tops, no t-shirts, no everything. The only thing I am allowed to wear is knee length or even longer skirts and sweatshirts or shirts that hide my arms, chest and everything. The only skin that is allowed to show is hands, neck and obviously my head. It was discussed that I should start wearing headscarves but thankfully my dad said it’s not necessary even though my brothers wanted me to wear one. They said “you’ll wear a headscarf when your husband tells you to”

- I thought about dying (sU|c|dE) way more than I’d like to admit.

- although I am 18 and legal my family still doesn’t let me make my own choices. It’s like I’m still underage and they have control over me and I can do nothing about it. They don’t care that I am an adult now, the only thing they care about is that I am obedient and pray everyday as if I’m still 10 or sth

I don’t remember every bad thing that happened to me so till now that’s it. Thanks for reading

#anor3x14 #anorekix #ed fast #th1gh gap #th1n$po #tw ed in the tags #tw ed relapse #ed diet #th11n$p0 #disordered eating mention #tw eating issues #b1nge eating #eating diary #depressiv #depressing post #tw depressing stuff #sad thoughts #self h@rm

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aliensunflower-fics · 5 years ago

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Marinette Changes Schools: A funny little Lila salt prompt

So, there are a lot of ‘Marinette changes schools’ au’s and I love a whole bunch of them don't get me wrong. BUT the one thing I haven’t seen yet is Marinette changing schools not because of Lila or salt but simply because her parents are moving and they want her to attend a school close to home. So without further ado let me sell you on my little idea:

Lila has been plotting weeks worth of plans and lies, she’s thought up some sob stories about being stalked, about near death experiences, about celebrities that are like her family. She has plans for Marinette all the ways she could make the girl look bad and all the ways she could force Adrien to see her. That all goes out the window one day when she gets to school and it's a sob fest. There is a clear air of dread and dismay, the blue skies she saw on the way to school replaced with heavy storm clouds. And when she gets to class it's worse. Marinette and Alya are hugging and crying, Adrien looks like he's been shot, Nino and Kim are demanding to know ‘why’ even Chloe looks upset, her blue eyes a little glassy. Lila quickly learns why, Marinette’s parents' business is doing GREAT so great in fact that they have decided to open a second location! The twist? They also decided to move INTO the new location and with it being on the other side of Paris and her parents fears for their daughters safety that means Marinette is moving to a new school!

Now Lila doesn’t even have to school her face into a practiced expression of shock. She genuinely is shocked here she’d been planning months in advance picturing the ways she would destroy her rivals life and steal her friends! And now just like that Marinette is MOVING? Of course Lila quickly decides this is a good thing! After all if Marinette is out of the picture ruling the school will be that much easier. Sure Chloe might be queen bee but with Marinette gone people will be looking to replace her! In walks Lila Rossi, a gorgeous upstart model with a heart of gold and connections coming out of her bangs! She’d rule the school and Adrien would fall for her, then Marinette would probably come crawling back desperate for her old friends only to learn she’d snatched them all up! It was brilliant! And with Marinette gone she could probably do it in record time! So Lila covers up her smirk and says she’s devastated to hear that the twin tailed girl would be leaving and begins plotting.

In the month that follows Lila leaves Marinette alone letting her have her friends for what would be for the last time. After all if everyone still loved the designer when she left they’d be all the more eager to replace her with a new and better version. Of course just because Lila is playing nice doesn’t mean she enjoys it. Alya is practically glued to the girl and ignores Lila even when she’s not trying to sabotage Marinette. Adrien is acting like his life is ending and all anyone will talk about is Marinette. When she checks social media it's all just pictures of ‘old-great times with Marinette’ or new photos and videos of helping the girl pack up and move into her new room, which Lila seethes about for a week when she sees the photos of the spacious luxurious room with a private bath. Apparently the Dupain-Cheng’s new bakery was in a pretty ritzy rich neighborhood. During school Marinette is mobbed by a constant stream of people begging her to stay and when they accept that not happening they all at least beg her to ‘come back and visit’ Marinette promises and Lila has to hide her snort. Fat chance of that actually happening.

Finally the last day arrives and Lila has to hold back the urge to gag as everyone fills the nearby park giving Marinette gifts and heartfelt goodbyes. Adrien is the last one to offer his gift and Lila seethes as Marinette gingerly opens the box with a gasp and pulls out two brand new pink hair ribbons, and Adrien goes on to say that they’re made of imported silk! SILK, as if the little baker brat deserved silk! The whole exchange is cliche and romantic as Marinette removes her current hair ribbons to tie in the new ones and Adrien ties the old ones around his wrist like some idiot who doesn’t realize what a love struck longing look he's giving his ‘good friend’. But Lila just keeps reminding herself its just a bit longer and sure enough not long after the hideously gooey exchange between Adrien and Marinette is over the designer is leaving with more tears and farewells. FINALLY Lila thinks she can get back to what matters! Ruling her empire.

As it turns out ruling her empire is not what she thinks. For the first month after Marinette leaves all anyone will talk about is the photos she’s posted online. The first week its ALL about HER new school is a private well known academy with uniforms, and isn't Marinette cute in it? And look at her in her custom black kitty thigh highs? Lila wants to scream, but not as much as when she catches Adrien drooling over the photo of said thigh highs and twirling the old nasty hair ribbons around his wrist. The second week its all about the video tour of her new home and school that Marinette sent Alya. Lila glares the whole time as Alya puts the video on the projector at lunch so everyone can see the big new gorgeous bakery and the beautiful house on the second floor and her stupid big bedroom that should belong to someone like herself and not some bratty bakers daughter! By the third week Lila has had enough and fakes some nasty texts from Marinette hoping to speed up the process of helping her classmates move on to HERSELF. It backfires spectacularly with Alya going on the warpath to learn who would dare frame Marinette now that she’s gone. Lila is starting to realize that somehow Marinette has reached a higher level of popularity now that she’s gone. But she reminds herself it won't last forever that in ‘just a little bit longer’ everyone will forget the baker. Right?

A little bit longer. Never happens. Lila asks the girls to hang out that weekend with plans of winning them over with some juicy celeb story? Alya says they all already made plans to hope aboard the train to spend the whole weekend at Marinette’s new place! Lila tries to corner Adrien into a date after a photo shoot. He disappears and all she hears from the workers on set is that he's been looking up some new bakery on the other side of town. [Marinette is suddenly being visited by Chat Noir every other night but she figures she must have moved closer to where his civilian self lives if hes dropping by so much.] She tries to throw a party for the class? They can't. Marinette will be coming out to the park today! With her new school friends!

AH HA! Lila see’s opportunity and decides to tag along. After all if Marinette has new friends Lila can twist it! She’ll whisper about her replacing them all! Make them hate Marinette’s new friends! Fill them with jealousy till they hate Marinette! It's BRILLIANT! And, it fails in less than two minutes, with Alya learning about Aurore being a ballet dancer and the two girls bonding over their mutual love of DANCE?? How the heck was Lila supposed to know Alya had been a champion ballet dancer in her younger years! Then Nino is bonding with some kid named Allen or whatever about classical vs modern music and how to blend the two! And some kid named Claude is joking with Kim, Max, and Alix! And this is definitely not how things were supposed to go!

The worst part is Adrien, who is passive aggressively fighting for Marinette against Kagami AND Felix who are both all too eager to show how ‘close’ they’ve gotten to the baker's daughter while Adrien’s been across the city. Kagami is all to happy to show off that she ALSO bought Marinette some new silk hair ribbons [in a red shade that happens to match her fencing uniform] while Felix eagerly wisks Marinette away the moment Kagami and Adrien are distracted the two fencers find him openly flirting with an oblivious Marinette her hair down because ‘oh felix was nice enough to help me get some leaves out of my hair and said i should leave it like this!’ [while both Kagami and Adrien agree she looks beyond cute they know this means war.] Needless to say Lila didn’t realize that Marinette was that damn popular with men and woman.

The week after the meet up Lila is worn so thin she’s ready to snap. Not only did the class not get jealous but they actually became FRIENDS with all of Marinette’s new buddies and were planning many more meet ups including a paintball war over the baker girl that saturday. Adrien had taken to openly mumbling to himself about changing schools and how he ‘cant believe’ his own flesh and blood would so openly flirt with HIS very good friend! And what was with Kagami showing off how easily she can pick up and carry Marinette? And why did she invite Marinette to watch their next tournament! He needed to train, what if he lost?? In front of Marinette?! And then she thought he was too weak to keep her safe like all good friends are supposed to do! Clearly Kagami was trying to replace him as Marinette’s very good friend! Poor Nino who was sitting next to the boy had actually volunteered to switch with Lila but she came up with a lie to avoid it, she’d had enough of hearing about Marinette from Alya and Juleka and the rest of the girls, she didn’t also need to hear it from Adrien!

It all comes to a head that Saturday during the paintball tournament when Lila now at her wits end her plans out the window her schemes barely thought out hopes to find something ANYTHING to ruin Marinette’s day and reputation and everything. But Lila just so happens to get completely pelted with paintballs everytime she so much as moves and then later gets ignored when trying to wow Marinette’s new friends, and then gets called out by Felix and Kagami snaps and finally she snaps and SCREAMS and runs off and not even a dark little butterfly comes to help her ruin the perfect day. As it turns out Hawkmoth was a little preoccupied with trying to save his business after all the computers and data involved in his precise scheduling were mysteriously corrupted suddenly freeing up his son's time and schedule so he could spend more with HIS very good friend and no one else's. Kagami and Felix apparently had the same idea as when he gets to her new house their already their doing their best to get on her parents good side.

Basically just give me some comedic, fluffy, Lila salty, Marinette changes school fics. Because I love them ok.

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[ Wanna Read More? Masterlist HERE! ]

#lila salt #ml salt prompt #lila salt prompt #adrinette #alya sugar #marichat #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #miraculous salt #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #protective Adrien #my fic #kagaminette #felinette

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lindsaywesker · 2 years ago

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Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to the weekend!

Wow! Here we are again: Friday! Where did that week go? No, seriously, where did that week go?

Naturally, the highlight of my week was my birthday on Wednesday and, trust me, I will be celebrating my birthday all month! I have enough alcohol in here to sink a battleship, plus I have a couple of very nice dates in my diary!

The Mighty Josiah has returned from Brooklyn, so we will see him tonight and he will stay with us Friday and Saturday. I am his personal assistant, so I will be at his beck and call. You know how scrumptious he is, so I will attempt to hug and kiss him – attempt! – but he always screams and runs away.

My mother had her first experience of racial profiling this week. My daughter’s mother is black, so my daughter is mixed race, dual heritage, whatever you want to call her but, in a shop in Hove, she’s a black woman! My mum wrote, “Today, in Marks and Spencer, a security guard stopped your daughter and said she looked like a shoplifting suspect of theirs. At that minute, l appeared, all hell let loose and they were full of apologies. She was shocked, of course! It just makes me aware of how penalised black people are.” Yes, this week, Lady Wesker got a life lesson. You’re never too old to learn.

Mars has decided to trial a ‘No Bounty’ tub of Celebrations this Christmas, after its consumer research confirmed their status as the least popular sweet. The experiment comes after nearly 40% of those polled told the company the Bounty should be permanently axed from the Celebrations line up, where it struggles to compete with the star power of “all-time favourite” Maltesers. To be honest, 40% sounds like a pretty low number to be making such rash decisions. Personally, given half the chance, I would eat Bounty until it made me sick! I love it! I’m down at Sainsbury’s this morning, so I will be stocking up on Bounty bars for those lazy Christmas days! Celebrations can do one! It’s a rip-off anyway!

The ‘follows’ keep arriving at Scam HQ a.k.a. Instagram. Every day, so many follows from women with an ‘Only Fans’ page, people dealing in Cryptocurrency or just people with no profile pic. For every person I follow, I literally delete about 20 wanting me to follow them. El*n M*sk calculates that about 90% of our followers are bots! I suspect he might be right but that won’t be happening on my IG profile. Not me, mate!

Yesterday, I forgot to post a photo on IG of some of my wonderful Wednesday students, which I have done today. Some people are a bit funny about selfies. They worry about the way they look, or worry about people knowing their whereabouts, or just worry about being in selfies. For my money, when people pass away, I am so grateful for my selfies with me and them. Beautiful moments, never to be forgotten.

For those of you that follow me on Twitter, if I suddenly disappear, I will have gone to @TribelSocial. As Twitter is now allowing very extreme right-wing people back on their platform, I may back away? Let’s see what happens?

Very sad to hear about Noel McKoy passing away. ‘Family’ by McKoy was released in 1991 and we must have played it hundreds of times on Kiss FM! I think anybody listening to Kiss at that time will remember ‘Family’ as being a huge radio and party record. In 2014, Noel became part of The British Collective, an exceptional group of young men, who many of us have enjoyed in recent years. One of the most distinctive voices in UK soul music. He will be missed.

Matt Hancock is about to find out how much people hate him!

Be warned: someone has created a FAKE Lindsay Wesker profile and they may send you a friend request. Do not accept it!

Hope you can join me tomorrow at 1.00 p.m. for ‘The A-Z Of Mi-Soul Music’. The Letter J (Part Seven). Some of the tunes are a bit saucy! You have been warned!

Have a fabulous and funky Friday! I love you all. You’re probably thinking, “You don’t even know me!” but, if people can hate for no reason, why can’t I love?

#mixcloud #mi soul #dj #music #new blog #lockdown #coronavirus #books #weekend #democracy #brexit #cronyism #election #autumm #christmas #radio

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etherrealoblivion · 4 years ago

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A Broken System

MASTERLIST

Summary: At her birthday celebration, Y/N is out on the town enjoying herself when she runs into a cute FBI agent who she’d love to take home and do terrible things to. Normally, someone meeting an FBI agent at a bar wouldn’t be that big of a deal. There’s just one, miniscule, microscopic, meager, problem... Y/N is only twenty.

tags: Large Age Difference, power imbalance, choking, Dom/sub, safe sex, vaginal penetration, dirty talk, cliffhanger.

A/N: this just made so much more sense in third person. i tried replacing it with second person, but trust me it did not work. hope you enjoy! gif by @toyboxboy

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Words: 5,930

Spencer Reid never really thought he was attractive.

Probably had something to do with his perpetually messy hair, gangly stature, and his tendency to ramble on and on and on and. . .

Yeah. Like that.

Another factor definitely was the fact that he was in his 30’s and had never really had a stable relationship. Sure, he’d had relationships with a few women. Well, two women. The first being a girl he’d met in college with whom he had a brief fling. Spencer didn’t really count it as a stable relationship due to the fact they barely even kissed. And the other woman, the only woman he’d ever really loved, died tragically several years ago.

Maeve.

Maeve was the real reason Spencer didn’t like going to bars with Morgan or being set up on dates by Penelope. She was the reason that Spencer wasn’t interested in anyone anymore. Who could possibly compare to Maeve?

Damn it. That was the other reason he wasn’t looking to date. He knew how the mind worked and there was no doubt that if any new person came into his life, she’d be unconsciously compared to Maeve. He couldn’t put anyone through that.

So, Spencer Reid stayed single. Which, for him, was relatively easy. Whenever someone started to get a little too close with him, he’d blabber and spout facts until they ran off. Morgan would ask what happened and Reid would just put on a slight frown, mumbling how she had to go.

The charade got more effortless the more they went out. Morgan, almost always going home on the arm of some woman and Spencer content to get a cab back to his own place, have a quick efficient orgasm, and fall asleep.

He had a system. And no one was going to break it.

Y/N hated the summertime.

Well, she didn’t usually. Anywhere else on the planet it would be mildly enjoyable. The beach, ice cream, staying up all night. All that fun crap. In Washington D.C, however, summer was hell.

But! When one was accepted into Georgetown and their parents offered to pay FULL tuition plus housing, how can one say no?

Seriously, she wanted to know.

After two whole years in this armpit of a town, Y/N had finally gotten used to the sweltering heat that plagued the city during the summer. Whatever. She just stayed in the comfortable A.C. all day anyway.

But, the summer before her third year was almost over, and the only thing she could think about now was graduating with a major in Journalism. She didn’t really like most of the courses, but it’s what she needed to do to become a full-time editor.

Living in a rent-free apartment was heaven. No roommates meant no worrying about, well, anything. The only problem was, her parents could hold it over her head every time they called. Which is why she never answered their calls.

Today, however, answering was unavoidable.

Because not only was it the day before her first class, today was her twentieth birthday.

Y/N was in the middle of getting dressed to go out with her friends when her phone vibrated from the kitchen table.

“Hello?”

She tried so hard to suppress the cringe at her mom’s voice.

“Sweetie! How are you? Are you eating?”

“Yes, mom.”

Oh boy. Strong start, mom.

“You look skinny in the pictures on Facebook!”

Yeah, she was definitely going to be late.

Surprisingly, it only took five minutes to push her mom off the phone, insisting that her friends were on their way and she had to keep getting ready.

A sharp rap on the door saved her.

“Come on!! It’s almost ten!” Y/N’s friend, Mina, said, annoyed. “All the old people leave the bars at ten and if we don’t get there soon, the bouncers won’t let us in!”

Y/N didn’t really understand the logic there. Hot girls always got into bars. Especially late at night. How were there not more crimes committed in clubs? Maybe she’d find out in her first class tomorrow.

“Hey!” Mina snapped her out of it, “Come on! Let’s go.”

They arrived outside a dinky little club a few minutes later. It had taken Y/N a while to get accustomed to how close everything was together in this town. Before college, she had been a small-town girl. Promise ring and everything. That, uh. That didn’t last long.

Before they got in line, Mina took a long satin sash out of her purse and secured it across Y/N’s torso.

“What the hell’s this?”

The sash was white with large pink flowy letters that poignantly spelled out: Birthday Bitch.

“It’s a sash.”

Three of Mina’s friends strode up, quickly exchanging hugs and wishing Y/N a happy birthday.

“I see that it’s a sash, but why am I wearing it?”

Mina confidently strode up to the bouncer, Y/N at her side, fake ID at the ready. Technically, it was the right birthdate, the year was just a little off.

“Go through. Happy Birthday,” the guy said, barely sparing the ID a glance, more focused on the huge sash. It made sense. She didn’t look her age. No one would think she was only in college by taking a glance at her.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Look,” Mina pulled her aside just before they entered, “this makes every single guy in there want to buy you a drink. So, go enjoy a free Shirley Temple, on me.”

Y/N scoffed and entered the club, immediately overwhelmed by the booming of the music.

Jesus Christ. How did people not die from this? It felt like her heart was beating out of her chest.

Sure, she’d been in a bar before. But not a real, proper club. She was pretty sure she saw some people wearing neon. Oh my god, there was a DJ.

Suppressing a laugh, she headed to the bar. At least there was a bar. There were so many people gathered around though that she couldn’t get much access to the one bartender on staff.

Luckily, he spotted her sash that seemed to shine under the blacklights.

“Hey, make some room for the birthday girl!”

And the crowd parted like the red sea, every man’s head turned towards her, and she cautiously approached the bartender who gave her a quick wink.

“Scotch. Neat.”

A dark man with a silver nose ring slid onto the stool next to her.

“It’s on me,” he addressed the bartender, staring at her the whole time. “So. Birthday girl. How old are you turning?”

She smiled softly. The sash was working great, but now she had to come up with a way to answer his question without explicitly lying.

“Who wants to know?”

Maybe flirting would be distracting enough.

He smiled, glancing down for a moment, then holding out his hand. Ha. Men.

“I’m Jon.”

Ugh. She hated handshakes. But for this man, she might be able to make an exception.

“Y/N.”

Five minutes later, she wished with all her heart she could take the handshake back. Y/N should have known better than to talk to a guy at a club. They were all sleazebags. But! She did manage to get a couple of drinks out of it.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said after his fifth time mentioning Outback Steakhouse.

But before she could leave the bar discreetly, a hand wrapped around her arm, yanking her back.

“Hey, what’s the matter? I thought we were talking?”

Y/N may have been a small-town girl, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing his shoulders and driving her knee up into his crotch, stomping off toward the exit.

Only when she got outside did she realize how fast her heart was beating. She leaned over, hands on her knees to catch her breath.

A soft hand on her shoulder made her snap around, grab the hand and twist it around the stranger’s back, shoving him up against the alley wall.

“I’m sorry!” the man squawked shrilly. “I’m sorry!” It wasn’t Jon.

“What were you doing?” she demanded, not releasing him yet.

“I saw you lean over. I just wanted to see if you were ok!”

She finally drank in the man’s appearance. He was wearing a soft purple sweater vest over a grey button-down, slacks, and worn black converse on his feet.

Confident that he wasn’t a threat, she released him and took a step back.

The man rubbed his elbow softly, glancing at her chest. Before she could tell him off for staring at her rack, he pointed to the sash.

“Is it your birthday?”

She looked down. Oh, he’d been looking at the sash of course. Then why did she feel … disappointed?

“Oh, yeah. Some guy bought me a drink and got a little, er, touchy.”

Suddenly, the man’s face went dark.

“Who is he? Where is he?”

He started to walk back into the club but she stopped him, reaching out and gently grabbing his arm.

“Hey! It’s fine. I kicked him in the crotch.”

The man’s eyes switched from anger to surprise in a flash. He flustered for a moment, before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking back into the alley.

Y/N now took a closer look at his face. He had deep, wise brown eyes, a small five-o-clock shadow gracing his jaw, and very full lips, the latter of which he was biting profusely. Aw. He was nervous. But why?

Maybe because he was in an alley with a random girl who had just been groped at a club and he didn’t know what to do.

She chuckled, attempting to diffuse the tension.

“Um. I didn’t get your name?”

He smiled brightly, thankful for the change in topic.

“Oh! Of course, sorry. I’m Spencer!”

And Y/N braced herself for the telltale outstretching of the hand.

But none came. He simply stood there, one hand in his pocket and the other waving at her, a dopey smile on his face.

Her face lit up.

“You didn’t try to shake my hand,” she muttered, awed.

The man, Spencer, got an embarrassed look on his face, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I, uh. I’m a bit of a germaphobe. But, really, everyone should be! The amount of germs passed in a handshake is staggering. They really should be abolished altogether.”

“Right! People should just bow their heads or, or, wave!” she said excitedly, gesturing to his hand. “I mean a handshake is like a hug with a part of you that comes in contact with everything! Might as well go up to someone and start making out with them.”

As she spoke, his face lit up in wonder.

“Right? It’s crazy! But the thing is, some people actually do that! I was in that club for fifteen minutes and I swear I saw three couples leave together that definitely didn’t go in together.”

“I know!” she said, starting to pace in the cramped alley. “I mean, who goes home with someone that you just met! They could be a serial killer for all you know!”

She looked at Spencer and was delighted to see a joyful expression on his face. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t introduced herself.

“I’m Y/N. Sorry for blabbering,” she waved, chuckling slightly.

Spencer smiled even wider.

“Don’t be sorry! Usually, I’m the one who has to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?”

“Blabbering,” he said sheepishly, hands back in his pockets. When he was talking, they had been moving about wildly. It was kind of endearing.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, considering. “Blabbering is underrated. One could argue it’s the best way to learn useless information.”

“Well, I’d agree but no information is really useless.”

Y/N held up a finger.

“‘Information is useless if it is not applied to something important or if you will forget it before you have a chance to apply it.’”

Spencer’s mouth fell open.

“Timothy Harris?”

She nodded. “The 4-Hour Workweek. Outdated, but still applies.”

When she noticed his expression, it nearly knocked her breath away. He was looking at her like no one ever had before. Like he’d just realized the most important thing in the universe.

Before her cowardice could catch up, she took a step forward, closing the distance between them. His face went blank, shocked by the sudden approach. He nearly gasped when she spoke.

“It’s totally ridiculous to go home with someone you just met, right?”

Spencer’s eyes widened.

“Totally.”

“Why were you out tonight in the first place? You don’t exactly seem like the club-going type.”

He smiled softly.

“I, uh, just got a promotion last week. My friend Morgan wanted to take me out to celebrate. It was either this or karaoke.”

She chuckled softly, their faces so close he must have felt her breath.

“I don’t know, I’d have liked to see your rendition of Bad Romance. Has anyone ever told you you’ve got a whole Lady Gaga vibe?”

“You should see my Beyonce.” And he did a little mime of the Single Ladies dance, sending Y/N into a fit of giggles. Without thinking — probably due to the trace amounts of alcohol in her system, not enough to be drunk, but enough to be tipsy — she reached up her arms around his shoulders, clasping them together behind his neck like a teen slow-dancing at prom.

Spencer seemed startled by the sudden physical contact. He froze, hands unmoving at his sides.

Y/N pulled her arms back, stepping away from him, discouraged and embarrassed.

“Sorry,” she said, collecting herself and walking back towards the club door. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Wait!” he called before she could reenter the club. A tiny part of her let out a breath in relief. She turned around to see him with a hand outstretched toward her, frozen with the uncertainty of what to do next.

He recovered quickly, a blush visible on his cheeks in the lamplight of the alley.

“If you’re leaving, would you, um. Could I walk you home?”

She had no idea what possessed her in that moment but just as he spoke, she walked up to Spencer, threaded her fingers through his hair, and pulled him down into a passionate kiss.

To her surprise, he responded immediately, running his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him, eagerly returning the kiss.

His lips were so warm. He tasted very faintly of alcohol and maybe a breath mint? Y/N let herself fall into the sensation.

Suddenly, her back was pressed up against the wall of the alley, Spencer’s hands lighting a trail of fire down her body. He hesitated, pulling back briefly to make sure she was ok.

A glint in her eye, she yanked him back down, tongues clashing together in a blaze of glory. He hiked her leg up around his hips, pressing them closer together. Y/N could feel the hardness in his pants pressing into her stomach, sending a wave of heat down to her core.

She pulled back. If they went any further, she didn’t know if she’d be able to leave the alley.

Y/N tried to hide the smile on her face but it was no use. She beamed at Spencer, linking her arm through his elbow.

“Lead the way. Wait, that doesn’t make sense, you’re taking me home. I’ll lead the way!”

And so they walked, arm in arm down the busy D.C. streets, silently enjoying each other’s company.

They arrived outside her apartment fifteen minutes later, Y/N clumsily unlocking the door, nervous from the thought of what was about to happen. They hadn’t explicitly said anything in particular. Was he going to come in? Would she invite him?

Spencer, it seemed, was also daunted, standing awkwardly on the threshold of her place, hands buried in his pockets.

An idea sprung into Y/N’s brain.

She approached him, wrapping her hands around his neck again only this time, his hands rested lightly on her waist.

“Still think going home with a stranger is a bad idea?”

Spencer chuckled softly, stroking the exposed skin of her waist from where her top had ridden up.

“I’m still debating it.”

“Oh?”

He slid his hand around the sash, fingers hovering above her chest.

“I never asked, how old did you turn?”

She smiled. For some reason, she felt she could trust this man. The worst that could happen was he calls the cops on her for having a fake ID. She could deal with that. Destroy the evidence, bat her eyes. Easy. Besides, he looked barely of age himself. She quickly wondered what he did for a living? He did say he got a promotion.

It would be easiest to just tell him the truth.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this…”

He chuckled lowly in her ear, moving his lips gently across her neck.

“I can handle it.”

She gasped at the sensation, legs clamping together.

“Officially, it’s my twenty-third. At least, that’s what it says on my ID. One of them.”

Spencer froze, waiting for her to go on.

Y/N quickly backtracked.

“It’s okay! I’m twenty! Not a minor, no worries.”

But Spencer pulled away, an extremely worried look on his face despite her assurance.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re underage.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah? Come on, by one year. What, you never had a fake ID?”

“No!” he said shrilly, running a hand through his hair.

“Spencer, it’s ok! It’s not like I’m gonna get caught. I look much older and when are there cops at a place like that?”

He reached into his pocket and fished out a folded wallet. Snapping it open, Y/N’s jaw dropped at the FBI badge with his picture in the corner.

She floundered for a moment, unable to truly comprehend what was happening.

“You’re . . .”

“Yep,” he said shortly, pocketing the badge.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much my reaction too,” he said, sighing. “I should arrest you.”

Y/N took a step back, incredulous.

“Arrest me?”

“You have a fake ID. You’re clearly drunk.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Great idea, Spencer. Book me. Take me down to the FBI and tell them exactly what happened to lead to you finding out I’m only twenty. I’m sure they’ll need very specific details.”

A look of realization flitted across Spencer’s face and he buried his head in his hands, groaning.

“How old are you anyway?!” she demanded, upset at him for being upset.

“Thirty-four!” he shouted, throwing his arms up in the air.

Oh shit.

This was bad.

He was fourteen years older than her, in the FBI, and probably was seconds away from arresting her.

“There’s no way you’re thirty-four. I mean, look at you!”

He rolled his eyes, snorting, and beginning to pace the small hallway.

“This is exactly what I get. I meet a girl I really like for the first time in years and she’s decades younger than me. And a criminal!”

“Hey!” she said, shoving his shoulder. “Not decades. I’m not a criminal. And how the hell do you think I feel? I’m out trying to have fun on my birthday, some guy gropes me leading me to run into the perfect man, take him back to my apartment thinking I’m gonna get lucky only to find out he’s a cop who’s gonna arrest me. Best birthday ever.”

Spencer eyed her carefully.

“Get lucky?”

Y/N’s eyes went wide. Shit. She hadn’t meant to reveal that part. Even though it was pretty obvious, something about it not being said added to the excitement.

“Did you really . . . I mean were you…. Um.” Spencer seemed to lose all authoritative tone suddenly, stammering nervously. It was such a 180, it shocked Y/N.

“Was I going to let you fuck me?”

He cringed at the bluntness but nodded sheepishly.

“Yeah, Spencer. I was.” She scoffed. “Honestly, I still would. But I understand if I’m more than you can handle,” she said coyly, trying to keep a straight face. “Just please don’t arrest me, Sir.”

His expression darkened at her words. Something deep and lustful behind it. Feeling bold, she went with it.

“Or is it Agent?” she cocked her head, holding a finger to her lips in thought. “How do I address you properly, sir?”

A small groan left Spencer’s mouth and he stepped forward, brushing a hand over her hair.

“We shouldn’t do this, Y/N…”

Slowly, she backed up into her apartment, pulling him with her.

“We shouldn’t.” She gently led him to her bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed, him towering over her. “To be fair, you’re the one with handcuffs.”

He groaned again, wiping a hand down his face.

“This is a bad idea.”

But he crouched down in front of her, pressing his forehead to her exposed knee, breathing deeply.

“Spencer,” it was barely a whisper but he met her eyes instantly. She smiled gently, reaching out to him and coaxing him up from the floor so he was hovering above her, mouths inches apart. “Listen, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” she assured him. “But I want this.”

She leaned back, pulling him with her so he was lying atop her, an obvious bulge pressing against her through their clothing.

“I want this, Spencer.”

Y/N hoped that he knew he could leave if he wanted. She didn’t want to pressure him into anything. Despite the age difference, she seemed to be the one more in control.

Spencer lowered his head, sighing.

“Fuck,” he moaned, lightly thrusting against her, a moan escaping her mouth at the contact.

That seemed to be the last straw.

He sat up, ripping his sweater vest off along with his button-down, quickly moving back over her, lips latching to her neck and chest.

Oh thank god. She wasn’t sure if she’d have been able to stand it if he’d left. But from the way he was touching her, hands moving up and down her sides, gently pulling her skirt down, looking up at her every now and then to make sure it was alright, he wasn’t going anywhere.

She just spurred him on, stripping off her top and bra, now only wearing her panties.

Spencer groaned at the sight, a hand reaching up, hovering over her breast. She arched her back up into his hand, letting out a gasp as he started to fondle her.

God, his hands were huge. And nimble. Oh, so nimble.

She reached for his belt, quickly unbuckling it and tossing it across the room, pushing his pants down faster than possible.

He groaned again, a magical sound, reaching a hand down to stroke her through her panties, coaxing a gasp from her beautiful lips.

In a flash, Spencer had pulled down her panties and buried his head between her legs.

Y/N gasped, hand flying to the back of his head, edging him on.

He slipped two fingers into her, his tongue flicking against her clit wildly, making her writhe and moan on the bed, gasping his name.

“Spencer, Spencer.” It took all the resolve she had to pull his head away from her. “I need you to fuck me.”

Spencer looked at her, trying to read her expression.

“Y/N . . . are you sure?”

Rather than answer, she yanked him up, crashing their mouths together, one hand quickly pushing down his boxers, his erection springing free.

Good god.

Wow.

How the hell was she supposed to fit that inside her?

She looked up at him, impressed, only to see a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Well,” she said, kicking off the panties pooled around her ankles, laid bare underneath the stranger on top of her. “This night gets better by the second.”

His size was a little daunting, but the thought of him slowly filling her up, probably not being able to fit all the way in, only added to her desire.

He dipped his head down, stealing a quick yet passionate kiss.

“Do you have . . ?”

“Yeah, in the drawer.”

He reached over, grabbed a condom, and rolled it on. It looked extremely tight on him. Y/N unconsciously licked her lips. Spencer chuckled.

“Maybe next time. I need to be inside you.”

And with that, he flung her legs around his hips, positioning his cock at her entrance, slowly running it up and down, moistening the condom with her juices.

God. The feeling of him being so close and yet so far was almost enough to push her over the edge right there. He had been a god with his tongue and she was desperate for more friction.

Reaching down, she lightly circled her clit, moaning at the instant pleasure.

Before she could enjoy it much, hands gripped her wrists, pinning them above her on the bed, Spencer staring at her with a dark look.

“If you wanna touch yourself, you have to ask permission. Understood?”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Words escaped her so she settled for a small nod.

“Use your words.”

His tone was so commanding the word left her mouth the moment he finished speaking.

“Yes.”

He lightly placed his hand around her neck, not applying any pressure, just hovering.

“Yes, what?”

Fuck. She wondered if it was possible to come just from being talked to.

“Yes, sir.”

And with that, he slid inside her, slowly filling her up with his length, moaning roughly at the sensation.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, watching as Spencer’s face tightened, jawline even sharper, and a dark look in his eye. He carefully applied a bit more pressure to her throat, quickly releasing his hand afterward.

They were both still as she adjusted to the size of him inside her.

“Is this ok?” his voice sounded so different than it had a moment ago. He had shifted back to the geeky guy she’d met in the alley.

She nodded gently at him, running a hand over his cheek in a way that was surely far too personal for a one night stand.

“My safeword is apple.”

He froze for a moment, shocked. Apparently she was kinkier than he’d expected.

Tired of not being fucked by this man, she dug her heels into his back, directing him to move.

He did without hesitation, groaning at the sensation of slowly pulling out and thrusting back in.

The feeling overwhelmed both of them, a litany of curses and moans falling from their mouths. Spencer’s hand moved back to her throat, squeezing much harder now that he knew what to listen for if she wanted to stop.

The sound of her moaning was enough to make him come right there and then. That, with the feeling of her around him and the fact that his hand was around her throat, totally in control.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

Oh my god, where was this coming from? Her nails scraped down his back, leaving a trail of marks.

“You like feeling me fuck you?” he wrapped a hand around her leg, pulling it higher to try to hit the magical spot inside of her. “You like when I wrap my hand around your pretty little neck? Showing you how in control I am of you.”

She nodded ecstatically, legs tightening around him. She was definitely close to coming.

“What were you thinking? Going to a bar when you’re underage. Then leading a stranger to your home, intending to let him fuck you silly. Finding out I’m ages older than you and still practically begging me to bend you over and pound you till you can’t see straight. Is the age difference what gets you off, Y/N?”

At the sound of her name, she let out a raucous moan, no doubt waking up the other tenants of the building.

Spencer smiled, drilling harder and tightening his grip on her throat.

“Oh, you like it when I say your name? You like when I shove my big cock in you and moan your name in your ear?”

She practically screamed as his hand started to circle her clit, the stimulation practically knocking the air out of her.

He was hitting her g-spot with every thrust, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She was so close. She just needed….

“You gonna come for me, Y/N?” he punctuated it with a particularly hard thrust, feeling her begin to clench around him, orgasm washing over her.

Her walls tightening around his cock was enough to send him barreling over the edge, grunting as he thrust in her four more times before feeling his balls tighten up and spill his seed deep inside her.

“Fuck,” he grunted, using his forearms to stay above her, both of them completely out of breath.

Slowly, he pulled out with a sigh, discarding the condom in the trash by her bed.

Y/N was seeing stars. This man had just given her her first penetrative orgasm. And, possibly the best sex she’d ever had.

‘Fuck’, was right.

Spencer flopped down next to her, still naked, trying to catch his breath.

Y/N turned to him, placing a hand on his chest.

It was strange. Even though they’d just had some of the best sex Y/N had ever had, she didn’t even know this man. And yet, somehow, she felt like she did. Did that happen a lot once you had sex with someone?

Her eyes refocused from where they’d been staring off into space to see a concerned Spencer looking at her.

“What?” she asked.

He studied her for another moment before speaking.

“You were biting your lip.”

A blush crept up her cheek.

“Yeah sorry. Helps me think.”

He let out a sharp breath, a sort of soft laugh.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said as he retrieved his underwear, slipping them back on and starting to button up his shirt.

Oh. Was he going to leave? Of course he was! That’s all this was, anyway. A one night stand. You had sex. That was the point.

Then why did it feel like hell?

“You okay?”

Her thoughts had drifted into space again. Spencer had laid back down, now on his side facing her, holding her hand, looking at her intensely. His gaze was practically burning.

“Yeah.”

“I, uh, I don’t normally do . . . that.”

She chuckled. It was rather obvious he wasn’t the hookup type. Despite the dirty things that had come from his mouth.

“Me either.”

He softly stroked her cheek.

“Are you going to stay?” she blurted.

His face fell.

“Oh, no I wasn’t going to impose if you-”

“NO! I mean,” she took a breath. “I want you to . . . I mean, if you want . . . I'd . . . I’d like you to stay. If you want?”

God. She sounded like a teenager asking their crush to prom. This was no stuttering sophomore she could kick in the crotch if he said no. He was a man. Although, he did tend to stutter. Maybe it wasn’t all that different.

He lit up, a wide smile brightening his features and he began to stroke her hand.

“I’d like that too.”

Wondering if it was possible for cheeks to sprain from smiling, she pulled up the covers, cuddling up against him, falling asleep almost immediately.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Ugh. The stupid alarm. She had been right in the middle of a wonderful dream involving Spencer’s hands and her bruised throat.

What time was it anyway?

The red clock radio proudly displayed: 7:00.

Right, it was the first day of classes. Maybe she’d just ditch and stay in with Spencer. He had been so warm she was sure he had a sun where a heart should be. College didn’t matter anyway, right? Ugh.

A shiver ran through her. She reached out for Spencer, only to find the cold other half of the bed.

Sitting up in bed, she stared at the empty spot.

Had he really walked out on her in the middle of the night? No…. No? Fuck. How could she be so stupid. Of course he didn’t want to-

Oh, he’d left a note.

In a fast yet tidy scrawl, Spencer had left the following message on a little notecard.

Good morning! I am truly sorry to walk out like this, but I have a class at 7:30 and I have to stop by my place and get ready. I’ll be back at the bar tonight, 10:30. I’d love to see you there.

-Spencer. X

Her heart melted into an ocean at the sentiment behind each individual letter. The man she’d just had a dirty one night stand with wanted to see her again.

Wait, he’d said a class? He hadn’t told her he was a student! To be fair, neither had she. That’s another thing they had in common apparently. It made sense why he didn’t tell her. A lot of people were ashamed of going back to college later in life. She thought that was ridiculous. Good for him.

Maybe she could look him up in the student registry. Actually, he may not even go to Georgetown. There were plenty of colleges nearby. She couldn’t have looked him up anyway. She didn’t even know his last name.

It was probably a good thing he left, because she, too, had a class at 7:30.

It only took her twenty minutes to shower, get dressed, and walk the very short distance to campus.

She arrived in the lecture hall with exactly one minute to spare, finding a seat next to a brightly dressed redhead holding a fuzzy pen.

“Hi! I’m Allie.”

“Y/N,” she said, suppressing the cringe as Allie reached out to shake her hand.

“Nice to meet you! What’s your major?”

Oh god. The inevitable college question.

“Journalism. You?”

“English,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Super boring I know, but it lets me take fun classes like this one. Why are you taking this class?”

“Oh, um. It looked fun, I guess. My dad was a lawyer and he kind of piqued my interest in the criminal justice system.”

Allie sighed.

“Thank god. You know half the girls are here just because the Professor is a hottie,” she said with air quotes, rolling her eyes again.

“Really?” Y/N asked, glancing around at the seats noticing the vast majority of the population were women. “Wait, I thought Ms. Merklins was the teacher? Did something change?”

“You didn’t get the email? It just went out the other day, Ms. Merklins had to retire. Something about a club foot. Anyway, the new teacher is supposedly super overqualified. Plus, he’s cute.”

“Huh.”

“Yep. I talked to this one girl in the hall, she actually said she’d sleep with him! Can you imagine?”

Y/N laughed.

“Nooooo. I cannot and I don’t want to. I’m just here to learn, I promise.”

“Same here. Although, if I start getting C’s, all bets are off.”

Y/N laughed and politely chatted with Allie while they waited.

The Professor’s office door swung open and Y/N reached into her bag to get her laptop.

“Hello, class.”

“Hello,” the class echoed.

“Welcome to Criminology. I am Professor Reid and I-.”

Y/N looked up over her screen as he stopped talking, making sudden eye-contact with the Professor.

She froze in her seat, blood running cold.

No way. No fucking way.

Spencer?

TAGLIST

@whollytaciturn @101donuts @thegingerfairchild @safertokiss @happyiidiot @cielo1984 @thupidalethea @darkacademiacherry @matthewreid @aloha-ashley-taylor @justchiara-02 @spnobsessedmemes @sweet-darlin @matthewreid

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #smut

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littlefreya · 5 years ago

Text

The Crystal Ship - Part 1

Summary: Henry is the most dangerous crime lord in England, he has everything he wants and women throw themselves at his feet, but what really gets him off is what’s hard to get.

Pairing: AU! Mafia Boss!Henry Cavill x OFC (Ash)

Word count: 4.8K

Warnings: Smutty Smut, MaleDom Vibes, Stripping, Bad language, Sexual innuendo, dry humping, bodily fluids.

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write this for a while and I only hope you guys will like it. As usual, I am nervous. It was supposed to be a one-shot but ended up being longer than I expected so I am dividing it into two parts for now. Many thanks to @agniavateira my sweet beta and helpful muse. Cover designed by me.

Please leave feedback 💖🥺 and more importantly, enjoy.

Title: The Crystal Ship

The sweet, smoky scent made his nose curl in repulsion. It was thick in the air, like a fruit that was too ripe, mere moments before rot sets in. Henry dreaded coming to the Imperial, even though it was the only safe ground to conduct business without having to deal with the district attorney's snout or any unwelcome eavesdropping. The club felt musty, drenched with bodily fluids and not in a good way. The men who frequented this place were foul animals; being amongst them made him feel as if their filth was rubbing onto him.

Sitting at the bar, he downed his whiskey, hissing while the fiery liquid hit the back of his throat. The bartender stood behind the counter, polishing some glasses and looking at the large man as he brooded on the sleek black marble of the counter.

Plastic neon lights flickered magenta and turquoise on the slick surface. An offensive contrast to the gloom that played inside Henry’s head. Life lacked vividness when everything was handed over on a golden tray. Money, beautiful women, fast cars.

The women of the club were especially keen on throwing themselves at his feet, thirsty for his attention and money which he was never willing to give.

“Please fuck me, Henry.” “Please let me suck your cock.”

As any man, he was flattered, though if he wanted to see a woman naked, he wouldn’t need to pay for it. Still, they circled him, desperately whining at his feet whenever he stepped into the club.

All except for her.

Big, almond-shaped eyes the colour of fertile light brown earth with a touch of green. Sitting on a barstool in the opposite direction. She was one of the girls working the club, no doubt. He didn’t imagine she was a gangster wearing fishnet stockings and a tight corset.

New girl, he gathered. He had never seen her pretty face before tonight. It was apparent she could sense his glance. Her body shifted uncomfortably, her irises focused on the straw of her tall glass of orange juice yet she never bothered looking back. Not even a smile on her nude lips.

Henry scoffed as a spike of interest surged through his mind. He spotted the long-haired beauty earlier as he sat through an infuriating meeting. Her big hazel eyes cut into his attention abruptly, focusing on his glare for a wisp before she swung away.

Treating him as if he was a nobody.

She chose to ignore him, much to his contempt.

Girl likes to play tough? Well, I happen to like bending things in my hands.

-----------

Ash felt her hand prickle as she waited on the bar stool. Sipping on an orange juice, she watched as an ageing rich couple made out on a red vinyl booth while a curvy girl danced on their table. Candy-Apple, the girl who she was paired with for the night, disappeared to one of the VIP rooms with a customer. Instructed her to wait and not to take any customers alone, being still a trainee.

The Imperial had some strict dos and don’ts.

Little did Candy know, Ash had the miraculous gift of getting herself into sticky situations and for reasons she couldn’t explain, tonight felt like one of those nights.

Taking another sip, she exhaled nervously, the corset tight around her ribs, further pushing her already strangled lungs. It was her very first shift and she seemed to have fallen on a busy night. The customers were not too pushy, though. No one has smeared himself onto her while holding a pitcher of beer and smelling of peanuts on their breath. Candy promised that the owners won't touch the girls and don’t let anyone else touch them either. The Imperial might be a “gentlemen’s” club, but it was one of the safest joints for girls to work at in London.

It didn’t do anything to calm the anxiety that waited at the door as she felt the presence of the tall stranger who kept his eyes on her for the last couple of hours.

She “bumped” into him earlier as she walked around the ground floor. Broad shoulders and a face that looked as if it was put together from all the best parts found in heaven. He sat with three other men, looking like the superior one in the group. Fury burned in his eyes, yet his posture was composed which only made him look more frightening. It was a mistake to gander, she knew it deep in her heart, but he was an impressive specimen of a man. She couldn’t look away, not soon enough before their eyes met.

Now he was sitting a few meters away. A spiced drink sits in his glass, a ghost of a smile loomed over his face while his fingers were pressed to his temple in some sort of dark intrigue. He stared with the confidence of a man who knew he could have everything and it seemed like she fell on his aim.

Feeling uncomfortable, Ash broke her gaze and slipped off from her seat, wishing to find a place where she could hide from his hungry curiosity. This man had trouble written all over his arrogant posture and if she learnt anything about herself, it was that she was a magnet for chaos. She turned on her stilettos and crouched down for a second to rearrange the fishnet stockings around her thighs before straightening up moving on.

In the most natural order of things, the stranger was there to stand in her way.

Broad and mysterious, the man towered above her with a small smile edging his mouth. Up close, she noticed his copper-brown curls and eyes like smooth steel. They shone like sharp knives through the club’s neon lighting. His jaw was cut marble, defined lines soared across his high cheekbones and even his lips had the perfect cupid’s bow.

Ash registered him carefully and her heart murmured. No man should be this good looking; he was beautiful in manners that seemed unearthly.

“May I buy your precious time, love?”

His voice hung low and deep, smooth like a chocolate truffle that melted on one’s tongue.

The scent of danger filled Ash’s nostrils; it smelled like peated scotch, aftershave, and heady musk. Judging by his cool-grey tailored suit, it was quite clear that he was a businessman from the underworld kind.

He burnt hot, and a part of her was immediately drawn to the flame. Yet despite the thrill, he seemed much more perilous than any of the other criminals who lurked around the club. This man could easily fuck up some poor girl’s life.

In the dark cold cavern of the club, with his shadow casting over her face, the stranger seemed more like Hades than just the ordinary mobster.

“Maybe some other night”, she forced herself to refuse, doing her best to sound polite yet stern while offering an apologetic smile in the hope that he would accept her refusal and let her go.

She knew right away that wouldn’t please him. It was clear as vodka; he wasn’t a man who took no for an answer. The thought alone made her nerves shiver as if someone was sliding ice on her skin.

Henry ran his knuckle across the dimple of his chin. The signet ring on his pinky finger flickered on her hazel eyes in blinding silver. He took her in with a deep inhale. No, not even a drop of appreciation on her pretty face but he did detect a tinge of fear.

Interesting he mused, a small grin stretching his defined lips. The little dark-haired woman was either completely oblivious to who he was, or she was one of them ladies who had principles.

Whichever it was, it spiked his intrigue and made for a curious turn of events in a very boring night.

“Isn’t that what you do, darling? Dance for money?”

He asked as he waved two £50 bills between his long fingers as an offering. His accent was posh and not a fake one either. She imagined he grew up wealthy. How does a man who presumingly, could achieve everything in life wound up into a place like this, she wondered. Not that the Imperial club was anything sort of sleazy. It was owned by the largest underworld family and had a taste of an old cabaret. Male celebrities often visited the club aside from gangsters and corrupt politicians.

“It’s my first night I’m not really...”

Henry reached into his pocket, drawing six more £50 bills and offered it to her. The steel in his eyes softened for a moment, yet the peril still hovered on his face.

He was a man trying to appear harmless and the risk never seemed so alluring.

Chewing on her cheek, she stared at the money. It was enough to stock the fridge for at least a month but it wasn’t as even half as seductive as her stranger’s haunting charm.

Fuck it.

Taking a deep breath, her slender fingers reached toward the hand that held the cash. She snatched the money from between his digits and tucked it in her garter belt. Henry beamed, pleased that she agreed. Two large dimples creased his cheeks as if this man needed any more attractive features.

Ash wrapped her fingers around his wrist and led him through the depths of the club while her heart thundered in her chest. For some reason, it felt as if she was walking freely into a trap.

And yet, excitement boiled in her blood.

The cracks between their silent contract were filled by the beats of the monotonous music. They passed by the abundance of half-naked women who were coaxing different men around the bar, touching and smiling sweetly, serving them with nothing but the illusion that they are wanted, when in fact they were needed for nothing but a paycheck.

Henry followed the petite woman, anticipation coating his veins and spiralling a small grin on his face. He guessed that without her heels she’d be at the height of his shoulder, this pretty little thing with raven black hair. He was intrigued by the way she bravely withstood him, almost to the point of irritation. It seemed as if his spell was useless on her as she carried herself carelessly, unlike the many women who threw themselves at his feet, begging to be fucked.

There was something provoking in her, to the extent of him willing to break another one of his own rules and get a sense of what she felt from the inside.

Her fingertips pressed on his wrist, sensing the pulse within. His heart ran strong and confident but she imagined it would only be a matter of time until she’d have him a complete mess.

They all have the same weakness, no matter how much power they have.

The large spacious club narrowed into a slim corridor while teal and magenta-coloured lights danced diagonally across a mirrored tunnel. Their own reflections appeared several times, accompanying them as they arrived in an open room, guarded by a huge, square-shaped bodyguard with a shaved head, chewing on the dead skin of his thumb.

Henry eyed him carefully, giving him a small nod before following her into the room. The interior was dark, with a black ceiling and a black shiny floor, embellished with white LEDs that reflected on her red stiletto heels. An onyx leather couch waited in the middle next to a small edge table holding plenty of bottled hard liqueur.

“Make yourself comfortable.” She gestured toward the seat and shut the door behind her, taking a deep breath as she felt a slight increase in her heartbeat. In the confinement of the small space, the brooding man had the energy of a lion, hazing her senses and making her feel like nothing more but a fluffy little rabbit.

The leather squeaked beneath his weight as he shifted slightly, wide thighs spread open while he glanced at her rear. She turned to tinker with the stereo system, selecting a tune to dance to.

Browsing through the selection of beverages, Henry decided to treat himself to a bottle of smoked whiskey. He unturned a clean lowball on the table, the sharp hiss making her flinch and then slump her shoulders at the sound of thick liquid being poured. The odour of spiced ashes filled the room, mixing with his musk and her sweet perfume.

“Should I pour you one as well, pet?”

“I would rather not drink on the job,” she replied and pressed play. Soft synth tunes played through the speakers and Ash turned to him slowly, giving him a seductive glance.

“Depeche Mode, really?” He crooked an eyebrow and smiled with amusement before pressing the glass to his lips and eyeing her carefully.

“I thought this song is fitting for my first VIP client” she answered, and made sensual steps towards him, already feeling captive by the daggers on his eyes. Henry took another sip of the amber-gold drink and placed his glass aside, pressing his fingers against his temple while examining the woman who was running her hands over her corset.

“You’re my first too.”

“Bullshit,” she mocked, entering into the space between his knees.

Henry tilted his head, a small warning glare crossing his chiselled face. “Mind your tongue, sweetheart. You’re a lady, act like one.”

She bit her tongue, avoiding the small tremor that flapped from her chest all the way up to her throat like a tiny caged bird. The dominance and authority in his voice made her shiver, making her feel as if she was owned by more than just his money. She wondered what made a handsome man like him even bother paying for something he could get for free from any woman he wanted.

“Fuck,” she provoked, keeping the fear on her breath tucked well behind a sweet sultry smile. She took joy in the dissatisfaction that danced on his face as she cursed. “You know how this works, then?”

“You take off your clothes and dance on my lap like a good girl?”

“I can touch you, you don’t touch me.” she warned, and slowly fell to her knees between his thick thighs, following the hollowed drop in the melody. Henry stared down at her with a pleased look on his face, his eyes hued with wanton as she rolled the laces of her corset between her fingers and unwrapped herself like the sweetest present.

It wasn’t her first time giving a lap dance. She worked in strip clubs outside of London, but those were much smaller clubs that held no more than 40 guests. And none of her customers looked like Big Handsome Boss.

“That seems unfair,” he answered as she spread her corset open. Her perked nipples teased through the loosened fabric while she gave him a pouty look and pulled at the laces delicately until she was free of the confinement of her bodice.

Henry shifted in his seat uncomfortably while she revealed her body to him. Small breasts glowed heavenly in the LED lighting, skin pure and smooth like honey. He was forced to reach a hand to adjust the huge bulge that pooled with arousal while her fingers began stalking up to his knees like two big spiders.

Big boy, she noted, trying to deny the small electric tingle that ran mischievously between her legs.

“Many things in life are unfair, Mister…”

“Henry.”

“Henry,” she answered, her French-manicured nails scratching his thighs, eliciting a low growl from him that made her spine crawl. “Not that I imagine that a man like you would know.”

He let out a small chuckle, she wasn’t far from being right. The hardest thing in his life right now was the fact that a beautiful nymph was dancing between his thighs and he wasn’t allowed to touch her. Yet.

The little vixen clutched his thighs tightly and pushed herself up steadily, spine curving, her breasts displayed an inch from his lips. She climbed to his lap and straddled his waist, pressing her panty-clad crotch against his caged erection. A rogue moan escaped her lips as she felt the mass of his bulge between her legs, much to the large man’s delight.

It appeared she wasn’t all immune to his spell. Her breath was shaking in her throat as she pressed her hands against his chest, feeling the hard pecs under the soft cotton of his grey shirt. Henry was sturdy and large. She couldn’t help but wonder what he hid beneath his well-tailored outfit. His biceps were bigger than her head as he kept his arms folded; those thighs beneath her ass felt thicker than logs.

Her lustful gaze swayed to meet the sky in his eyes up close, detecting a slight imperfection in one of them: an earthly taint of brown. He gave her a slanted grin, descending to feast on the sight of her half-naked form with a flick of his tongue across his lip.

Red flags waved at the back of her mind. This man was the epitome of danger, drenched with dark lust and sinister grins. The fact that he was a sweet, sugary treat for a starving girl made for a sinful mixture, causing both distress and stickiness between her thighs.

Henry placed both his hands on the armrests, fingers digging into the onyx leather to hold himself from grabbing her slim waist and grinding her onto his cock. Her mound felt fiery hot onto the fabric of his trousers, and the slow tidal sway of her hips did nothing but engorge him even more.

“What’s your name, little minx?” He asked, his breath heavy and sweet with whiskey against her neck.

She hummed in response, closing her eyes and throwing her head back while her hands held onto his broad shoulders. The dark waterfalls of her hair streamed down behind her. Her torso stretched, bare breasts a delicious sight while she danced on his groin, increasing the friction that ran like smouldering heat.

“It’s… Lilith…” she answered, licking her lips as she felt the blood vibrating between them.

Henry groaned, enjoying the brush of her body against his. She moved in sensual waves- slow yet hard, like a storm inching an ocean. Her voice hummed softly in his ear, her almond-shaped eyes tricking him into believing he was desired, needed.

And perhaps he was, as her lips swelled red with passion and she danced on his cock with as much urgency to please herself as to please him.

“Your real name, pet.”

Ash closed her eyes and shook her head. “I am not allowed to tell you.”

“Fair enough,” he growled. He felt her increase the pace, pushing harder onto him. His self-control was vastly challenged. His breath became fervent fumes. He felt the moistness beneath his hands as he clutched tightly on the soft leather as if his life were dependent on it. The pulse in his organ became as rageful as a volcano.

“You look like you’re enjoying this as much as I am,” he murmured, letting his lips inch dangerously close against her neck. “I wonder if this sort of thing would happen with anyone else, or I’m special.”

Goosebumps spread through her skin, her nape felt a cold shiver. Ash swallowed hard. If this was a thriller film this was the point where she was supposed to turn back and save her skin, yet all she fancied was to push her cunt against menacing Henry and mewl as tinders of joy licked between her legs.

“Is that a problem, if I am?” She dared.

Unable to control his body’s natural instincts, Henry broke and bucked his hips roughly into her mound, giving in to her grind, growling as the collision created sparks of fire that increased the flame between them.

“Not at all,” he grunted, feeling droplets of sweat forming on his brow. “Only that I paid you.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself.”

And tendrils of pleasure were indeed within her grasp. Ash felt a tremble in her thighs. He was large and hard, demanding to be let inside her. She’d be lying if she didn’t want the same, imagining just how large a man of his size was.

She wondered how he’d fuck her, would he be as slow and rough as their carnal dance, or would he throw her on the bed and wreck her till she cried.

The dark gaze in his eyes made her lean toward the latter and darn if he didn’t look at her as if she was the most intoxicating woman on earth. Feeling the flush ride from her cheeks down to her chest, she turned around, pushing her ass against his cock instead. She wanted to come so badly, the throb between her legs mingled with the fear that tingled in her chest. She wanted to remind herself she was protected by the owners of the club and the man standing right outside, yet Henry made her doubt herself.

And for some reason, it only made her more excited.

“Touch me!” She demanded in a voice tainted with desperation.

There was no need to ask more than once. Her handsome stranger groaned the most beautiful melodies in her ear and reached his aching hands to squeeze her breasts. They moaned together as the much-needed bond had formed. Henry’s thumbs circled her nipples while his fingers kneaded on the fat of her flesh. She knew this was a mistake, he would leave his violet fingerprints all over her skin yet her judgment was clouded by the pleasure his touch elicited on her desperate flesh.

“Lilith.” Henry gasped, allowing himself to nuzzle the girl’s hair as she seemed completely lost to her own desires. “Do you fuck your boss?”

“I’m not a prostitute.” she answered breathlessly as one of his hands climbed up to her neck and held her jaw, drawing her head back onto his shoulder. His hips bucked harder against her ass, the pounding in his cock was nothing but white-hot fury. He held her tightly while she dug her nails into his thighs.

“Not what... I asked…” he gasped, his voice breaking between grunts.

“No.”

Ash felt his cock twitch beneath her and his moans chanted repeatedly, becoming louder and louder. The pulsating need inside her was unbearable yet it wasn’t enough, not for her. She needed to feel something inside her throbbing cunt yet she feared breaking the rules. Henry pushed against her ass with vigour, emitting inarticulate sounds until he clutched her tightly and gasped with pleasure.

For a few seconds, the room felt like the most radiant thing on earth.

Ash breathed out as his hot mess was sticky against her ass. Slight disappointment danced in her chest as she didn’t share his climax and her heart was still in rageful turmoil, furious for not being let to feel the much-needed pleasure. Yet a part of her was relieved that their contract has expired.

She might have managed to avoid trouble for once.

“Good.” Henry breathed out, panting heavily as he tried to adjust his lungs. His hands still covered her breasts, sensing the dampness of her skin against his sweaty palms

“Because I am your boss, darling.”

Her mind still fuzzy, Ash let out a confused chuckle which quickly died as the man beneath her didn’t join in her laughter. The rigidness on his breath sounded dead serious and the signet ring on his pinky finger suddenly felt cold against the softness of her breast.

“Cavill.” she called out, panic pitching her voice higher. “Henry Cavill…?”

“Mhmm.” he hummed with approval, an arrogant smile spread from the corners of his lips as he noticed the obvious shift in her mood. Still seated on his lap, she let out a trembling wheeze as her heart sank to her gut.

“You are not joking, are you?”

“No,” his voice rumbled, vibrating low and thick against her prickling spine.

Ash felt the sweat turn cold on her skin. Giving a small turn, she was unable to determine whether she should get up or remain seated on his groin. She could see the shit-eating grin on Henry’s sharp jaw from the corner of her eye and decided to gather her shaky feet to stand, nearly losing her balance as her heels suddenly despised her.

“Mr. Cavill, I’m so sorry,” she dropped her gaze to the floor, her hands covering her breasts nervously out of the misled thought she offended him. If he felt threatening before, now she felt pure terror making her blood sting. The Cavills were the most notorious organized crime family in the United Kingdom. Their web spun across each district, and they owned half of the police force in London.

She just made a filthy mess out of the trousers of a man who kills much more important people than her.

It was very much clear to her that it would take little to no effort to make a no one like Ashleigh Carr disappear.

The room began to feel as if it was depleted of air all of a sudden.

“Considering you just made me come all over my pants, you can call me Henry, or sir.” he corrected her in his deep voice while his piercing steel eyes focused on the obvious stain on his crotch.

Ash blinked, terrified as Henry reached for the phone at the back of his trousers. A muscle strained in his jaw while he scrolled through the device and then placed it against his ear. She opened her mouth to apologize once again, yet was silenced by Henry holding up his index finger gesturing “wait”.

“Sean, I will need a clean suit brought to the Imperial, ASAP. Make it a dark one.”

The crime lord ended the call with a friendly yet authoritative “Cheers,” before lifting his gaze to the slender girl who still stood at the same spot with eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. Never in his life had he had a naked girl look at him with so much fear on her face.

It was an interesting new aspect.

Reaching down between his knees, Henry fished for her flimsy corset and pulled his heavy body upward. His long legs stretched as he stepped toward the horrified girl. Giving her a smile, he handed her the piece of garment.

She snatched it from his hand with slight hesitation while he stared down at her, his head tilting as if to further study the features of her face. She was too afraid to break eye contact, strapping the corset back around her body without saying another word.

“Lilith…” Henry called, his spiced breath hot on her face.

“Ash...Ashleigh,” she admitted.

“Ashleigh,” Henry pronounced her name softly in his low voice, giving a small dreamlike smirk as if it was the most beautiful name he ever heard. His tongue licked over his bottom lip while he drank the sight of her in.

“I’d like to fuck you.”

Ash stared at the man in front of her with surprise, lust still blooming between her thighs, her skin tingling with the imprint of his touch. Inside, she seared with passion and he was undoubtedly the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen with his kissable lips and crystal blue eyes.

But she detested the idea of being a whore. She never slept with a customer, nor was she willing to sleep with her boss.

Even if it cost her life.

“As I said, not a prostitute.”

“I have no intention of paying you,” he answered with a dry chuckle.

“You just did,” she answered and then took a deep breath, choosing not to say more. She still valued her life after all, no matter how pitiful it is.

Henry gave her a slanted smirk and began circling her like a predator stalking his prey. Careful eyes followed him, her breath measured with every step he took.

There was a spirit in her, warm and feisty. Defiant despite the fear that sparkled as clear as water in her beautiful eyes. In the cold, secluded room of his sinful club, he finally felt the thing he chased after for years. Passion. Desire.

And it was booming in his heart.

“I find you interesting, Ashleigh,” he replied and shoved his hand into the pocket of his jacket, drawing out a sharp silver card.

“But I am not one to beg, nor do I take pleasure in pressuring women to sleep with me.”

The card gleamed like a knife as he held it between his digits while waiting for her to accept it.

“This is my driver’s number, just in case you decide you do want to spend your night with me.”

Read Part 2

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#Henry Cavill #AU!Henry Cavill #mob!henry cavill #MobBoss!Henry Cavill #henrycavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x reader

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thewidowsghost · 3 years ago

Text

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 8

(Y/n)'s POV

I know someone at camp resents Percy and me because one night, I come into the cabin alone and find a mortal newspaper dropped inside the doorway, a copy of the New York Daily News, opened to the Metro page. The article takes me almost an hour to read, because the angrier I get, the more the words float around on the page.

GIRL, BOY, AND MOTHER STILL MISSING AFTER FREAK CAR ACCIDENT

By Eileen Smythe

Sally Jackson, son Percy, and daughter (Y/n) are still missing one week after their mysterious disappearance. The family's badly burned '78 Camaro was discovered last Saturday on a north Long Island road with the roof ripped off and the front axle broken. The car had flipped and skidded for several hundred feet before exploding.

Mother, daughter, and son had gone for a weekend vacation to Montauk, but left hastily, under mysterious circumstances. Small traces of blood were found in the car and near the scene of the wreck, but there were no other signs of the missing Jacksons. Residents in the rural area reported seeing nothing unusual around the time of the accident.

Ms. Jackson's husband, Gabe Ugliano, claims that his stepson, Percy Jackson, is a troubled child who has been kicked out of numerous boarding schools and has expressed violent tendencies in the past.

Police would not say whether son Percy is a suspect in his sister's and his mother's disappearance, but they have not ruled out foul play. Below are recent pictures of Sally Jackson, (Y/n), Percy. Police urge anyone with information to call the following toll-free Crimestoppers hotline.

The phone number is circled in black marker.

I wad up the paper and throw it away, flopping down on my bunk on the far edge of the cabin under the window facing the sea.

I remain silent as Percy walks into the cabin, flopping down onto his bunk as well.

That night, I have the worst dream yet.

I was running along the beach in a storm. This time, there was a city behind me. Not New York. The sprawl was different: buildings spread farther apart, palm trees and low hills in the distance.

About a hundred yards down the surf, two men were fighting. They looked like TV wrestlers, muscular, with beards and long hair. Both wore flowing Greek tunics, one trimmed in blue, the other in green. They grappled with each other, wrestled, kicked, and head-butted, and every time they connected, lightning flashed, the sky grew darker, and the wind rose.

I had to stop them. I didn't know why. But the harder I ran, the more the wind blew me back until I was running in place, my heels digging uselessly in the sand.

Over the roar of the storm, I could hear the blue-robed one yelling at the green-robed one, Give it back! Give it back! Like a kindergartner fighting over a toy.

The waves got bigger, crashing into the beach, spraying me with salt.

I yelled, Stop it! Stop fighting!

The ground shook. Laughter came from somewhere under the earth, and a voice so deep and evil it turned my blood to ice.

Come down, little hero, the voice crooned. Come down!

The sand split beneath me, opening up a crevice straight down to the center of the earth. My feet slipped, and darkness swallowed me.

I wake up, sure I'm falling.

I am still in bed in Cabin Three. My body tells me it's morning, but it's dark outside, and thunder rolls over the hills.

A storm is brewing.

I hadn't dreamed that . . .

I hear a clopping sound at the door, a hoof knocking on the threshold.

"Come in?" Percy asks, sounding uncertain.

Grover trots inside, looking worried. "Mr. D wants to see the two of you."

"Why?" I ask, peeking through the curtain separating mine and Percy's side of the cabin.

'He wants to kill . . . I mean, I'd better let him tell you."

Nervously, Percy and I get dressed and follow, sure we were in huge trouble.

For days, Percy and I'd been half expecting a summons to the Big House. Now that we were declared children of Poseidon, one of the Big Three gods who weren't supposed to have kids, I figure it's just a crime for us to be alive. The other gods had probably been debating on the best way to punish us for existing, and now Mr. D is ready to deliver their verdict.

Over Long Island Sound, the sky looks like ink soup coming to a boil. A hazy curtain of rain is coming in our direction. I ask Grover if we'd need an umbrella.

"No," Grover says. "It never rains here unless we want it to."

Percy points at the storm, 'What the heck is that, then?"

Grover glances uneasily at the sky. "It'll pass around us. Bad weather always does."

I realize that he's right. In the week I'd been here, it had never even been overcast. The few rain clouds I'd seen had skirted right around the edges of the valley.

But this storm . . .

This one's huge.

At the volleyball pit, the kids from Apollo's cabin are playing a morning game against the satyrs. Dionysius's twins - Castor and Pollux - are walking around in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow. Everyone is going about their normal business, but they look tense; they keep their eyes on the storm.

Grover, Percy, and I walk up the front porch of the Big House. Dionysus sits at the pinochle table in his tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt with his Diet Coke, just as he had on my first day. Chiron sits across the table in his fake wheelchair. They are playing against invisible opponents - two sets of cards hovering in the air.

"Well, well," Mr. D says without looking up. "Our little celebrities."

I wait.

"Come closer," Mr. D says. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortals, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father."

A net of lightning flashes across the clouds; thunder shakes the windows of the house.

"Blah, blah, blah," Dionysus grumbles.

Chiron faints interest in his pinochle cards and Grover cowers by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth.

"If I had my way," Dionysus says, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm."

"Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr. D," Chiron puts in.

"Nonsense," Dionysus says. "Boy wouldn't feel a thing. Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain myself. I'm thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father."

"Mr. D - " Chiron warns.

"Oh, all right," Dionysus relents. "There's one more option. But it's deadly foolishness." Dionysus rises, and the invisible players' cards drop onto the table. "I'm off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If the boy is still here when I get back, I'll turn him into an Atlantic bottlenose. Do you understand? And Perseus Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you two must do."

Dionysus picks up a playing card, twists it, and it becomes a plastic rectangle. A security pass. He snaps his fingers. The air seems to fold and bend around him. He becomes a hologram, a wind, then he is gone, leaving only the smell of fresh-pressed grapes lingering behind.

Chiron smiles at me and Percy, but he looks tired and strained. "Sit, Percy,(Y/n), please. And Grover."

We do.

Chiron lays his cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn't gotten to use.

"Tell me, (Y/n)," he says. "What did you make of the hellhound?"

Just hearing the name makes me shudder.

Chiron probably wants me to say, Heck, it was nothing. I eat hellhounds for breakfast. But I don't feel like lying.

"It scared me," I admit. "If you hadn't shot it, I'd be dead."

"You two will meet worse. Far worse, before you're done."

"Done?" Percy asks. "With what?"

"You're quest, of course," Chiron says. "Will you accept it?"

I glance at Grover, who is crossing his fingers.

"Sir," I say, "you haven't told us what it is yet."

Chiron grimaces. "Well, that's the hard part, the details."

Thunder rumbles across the valley. The storm clouds had now reached the edge of the beach. As far as I can see, the sky and the sea were boiling together.

"Poseidon and Zeus," I guess. "They're fighting over something valuable . . . something that was stolen, aren't they?"

Chiron and Grover exchange looks.

Chiron shoots forward in his wheelchair. "How did you know that?"

"The weather since Christmas has been weird, like the sea and the sky are fighting. Then I talked to Annabeth, and she'd overheard something about a theft. And...I've also been having these dreams."

"I knew it," Grover says, his eyes bright.

"Hush, satyr," Chiron orders.

"But it is his quest!" Grover's eyes sparkle with excitement. "It must be!"

"Only the Oracle can determine," Chiron strokes his bristly beard. "Nevertheless, (Y/n), you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt."

Percy laughs, looking nervous, "A what?"

"Do not take this lightly," Chiron warns. "I'm not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you'd see in a second-grade play. I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives."

"Oh."

"Zeus's master bolt," Chiron says, getting worked up now. "The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers."

"And it's missing?" I guess.

"Stolen," Chiron corrects.

"By whom?" I ask though I guessed what he was going to say.

"By you two," Chiron says and Percy's jaw drops.

"At least"—Chiron holds up a hand—"that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon argued. The usual nonsense: 'Mother Rhea always liked you best,' 'Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters,' et cetera. Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it."

"But I didn't - We didn't -" Percy goes to say.

"Patience and listen, child," Chiron says. "Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you two as his children. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. Zeus believes he has found his thief.

"But we've never even been to Olympus! Zeus is crazy!"

Chiron and Grover glance nervously at the sky. The clouds don't seem to be parting around us, as Grover had promised. They are rolling straight over the valley, sealing us in like a coffin lid.

"Er, Percy . . . ?" Grover says. "We don't use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky."

"Perhaps paranoid," Chiron suggests. "Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your final exam...." He looked at Percy.

"The Golden Net?" I guess again. "Poseidon and Hera and a few other gods trapped Zeus in it and wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better ruler?"

"Correct," Chiron says. "And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took great offense at the accusation. The two have been arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you two have come along—the proverbial last straw."

"But we're just kids!" Percy protests.

"Percy," Grover cuts in, "if you were Zeus, and you already thought your brother was plotting to overthrow you, then your brother suddenly admitted he had broken the sacred oath he took after World War II, and that he's father, not one, but two mortal heroes who might be used as a weapon against you . . . Wouldn't that put a twist in your toga?"

"But I - we didn't do anything, Poseidon - our dad - he didn't really have this master bolt stolen, did he?" Percy asks, and I remain silent in thought.

Chiron sighs. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer solstice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a fullfledged war would look like, Percy? (Y/n)?"

"Bad?" Percy guesses.

"I'd guess that it would be like nature at war with itself," I say and Chiron nods.

"Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight," Chiron adds to (Y/n)'s statement.

"Bad," Percy repeats.

"And you, Percy and (Y/n) Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath."

And then, it starts to rain. Volleyball players stop their game and start in stunned silence at the sky.

We had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of us.

"So we have to find that bolt," I say. "And return it to Zeus."

"What better peace offering," Chiron says, "than to have the son and daughter of Poseidon return Zeus's property.

"If Poseidon doesn't have it, where is the thing?" Percy asks.

"I believe I know." Chiron's expression is grim. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago...well, some of the lines make sense to me, now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle."

"Why can't you tell us where the bolt is beforehand?" Percy asks.

"Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge."

I swallow thickly. "Good reason."

"You agree then?" Chiron asks.

I exchange a glance with Percy, then Grover, who nods encouragingly.

Easy for him, I think. We're the ones Zeus wants to kill.

"All right," Percy says. "It's better than being turned into a dolphin."

"Then it's time you consulted the Oracle," Chiron says. "Go upstairs, Percy and (Y/n) Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more."

. . .

"Well?" Chiron asks us.

We slump into our chairs at the pinochle table. "She said we would retrieve what was stolen.

Grover sits forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can. "That's great!

"What did the Oracle say exactly?" Chiron presses. "This is important."

My ears are still tingling from the reptilian voice. "She said we would go west and face a god who had turned. We would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned."

"I knew it," Grover says.

Chiron doesn't look satisfied. "Anything else?"

"No," Percy says. "That's about it."

He studies Percy's face, then meets my green gaze. "Very well. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass."

I get the feeling he knows we're holding something back, and he's trying to make us feel better.

"Okay," Percy says, looking anxious to change topics. "So where do we go? Who's this god in the west?"

"Ah, think, Percy," Chiron says."if Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain."

"Someone else who wants to take over?" I guess.

"Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken."

"Hades," I say, raising an eyebrow.

Chiron nods. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility."

A scrap of aluminum dribbles out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh - what?"

"A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminds him. "She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades."

"Yes, but - but Hades hates all heroes," Grover protests. "Especially if he has found out Percy and (Y/n) are children of Poseidon . . ."

"A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continues. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy and (Y/n) to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill these young half-bloods before he can take on the quest."

"Great," I mutter. "That's two major gods who want to kill us."

"But a quest to . . ." Grover swallows. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in someplace like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year."

"Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy and (Y/n) must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth."

A strange fire burns in my stomach. The weirdest thing is, it isn't fear. It's anticipation. The desire for revenger. Hades had tried to kill me two times so far with the Minotaur, and the hellhound. It is his fault my mother had disappeared in a flash of light. Now he is trying to frame me, my dad, and my brother for a theft we hadn't committed.

Grover is trembling now; he'd started eating pinochle cards like potato chips.

The poor guy had to complete a quest with me and Percy so he could get his searcher's license, whatever that is, but how can I ask him to do this quest, especially when the Oracle said we were destined to fail?" This is a suicide mission.

"Look, if we know it's Hades," Percy tells Chiron, "why can't we just tell the other gods? Zeus and Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads."

"Suspecting and knowing are not the same," Chiron says. "Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades—and I imagine Poseidon does—they couldn't retrieve the bolt themselves. Gods cannot cross each other's territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as they're bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero's actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?"

"You're saying I'm being used," Percy says.

"I'm saying it's no accident Poseidon had claimed you and (Y/n) now. It's a very risky gamble, but he's in a desperate situation. He needs the two of you."

My dad needs us.

Emotions roll around inside me like bits of glass in a kaleidoscope. I don't know whether to feel resentful or grateful or happy or angry. Poseidon had ignored me for twelve years. Now suddenly he needed me.

3rd Person POV

Percy looks at Chiron. "You've known I was Poseidon's son all along, haven't you?"

"I had my suspicions. As I said . . . I've spoken to the Oracle, too."

(Y/n) gets the feeling that there is a lot he wasn't telling them about the prophecy, but she decides that she couldn't worry about that at the moment. After all, she and Percy were hiding back information too."

"So let me get this straight," Percy says. "We're supposed to go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead."

"Check," Chiron says.

"Find the most powerful weapon in the universe."

"Check."

"And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days."

"That's about right."

(Y/n) looks over at Grover, who gulps down the ace of hearts.

"But I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?" he asks weakly.

"You don't have to go," Percy tells him. "I can't ask that of you."

"Oh . . ." He shifts his hooves. "No . . . it's just that satyrs and underground places . . . well . . ." He takes a deep breath, then stands, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his t-shirts. "You saved my life, (Y/n), Percy. If . . . if you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let the two of you down."

Percy feels so relieved that he wanted to cry, though he didn't think that would be very heroic. Grover is the only friend she'd ever had for longer than a few months. Percy isn't sure what a satyr can do against the forces of the dead but he feels better knowing he'd be with them.

"All the way, G-man," Percy turns to Chiron. "The Oracle just said to go west."

"The entrance to the Underworld is always in the west. It moves from age to age, just like Olympus. Right now, of course, it's in America."

"Where?"

Chiron looks surprised. "I thought that would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles."

Percy's POV

"Oh," I said. "Naturally. So we just get on a plane -"

"No!" Grover shrieks. "Percy, what are you thinking? Have you ever been on a plane in your life?"

I shake my head, feeling embarrassed. My mom had never taken me and (Y/n) anywhere by plane. She'd always said we didn't have the money. Besides, her parents had died in a plane crash.

"Percy, think," Chiron says. "You are the son of the Sea God. Your father's bitterest rival is Zeus, Lord of the Sky. Your mother knew better than to trust you in an airplane. You would be in Zeus's domain. You would never come down again alive."

Overhead, lightning crackles and thunder booms.

"Okay," (Y/n) says, not looking up at the storm. "So, we'll travel overland."

"That's right," Chiron says. "Two companions may accompany you. Grover is one. The other has already volunteered if you will accept her help."

(Y/n)'s POV

"Gee," I say, feigning surprise. "Who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a suicide quest like this?"

The air shimmers behind Chiron.

Annabeth Chase becomes visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket.

"I've been waiting a long time for a quest, Seaweed Brain," she says. "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up."

"If you do say so yourself," I say. "I suppose you have a plan, wise girl?"

Her cheeks flush. "Do you want my help or not?"

The truth is, I do. I need all the help I can get.

"A quartet," I say. "That'll work."

"Excellent," Chiron says. "This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own."

Lightning flashes. Rain pours down on the meadows that were never supposed to have violent weather.

"No time to waste," Chiron says. "I think you should all get packing."

Word Count: 4018 words

#percy jackson x sister reader #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert #female reader #reader insert #fem reader

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dalamjisung · 4 years ago

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binge watch party ✿ park jinyoung

word count: 1753

genre: slice of life, fluff, actor!jinyoung

member: jinyoung x reader

description: after seven years these seven boys are finally ready to move on with the certainty that no matter what, where, how, or whom… they’ll always be together. Be it for red carpets, concerts, study sessions, or a simple binge watching party at your apartment.

“How was it?” You ask as soon as you see Jinyoung by the door, shrugging off his jacket and putting his shoes aside. “How was it, how was it, how was–“

“Oh my god,” He smiles, groaning in faked annoyance. “Let me sit down, will you?”

Grabbing him by the shoulders, you push him to the sofa, where you have spent the entire afternoon watching Netflix and waiting for him.

It’s been about a couple of weeks since his previous contract ended and, as much as Jinyoung loves you and needs rest, he also needs something to do. He is not the type of man who can simply chill around his apartment, idly fiddling his thumbs until something better comes up; no, that’s not who he is. Jinyoung needs a purpose, he needs a drive. It’s always been like that, and when he got home, that eventful afternoon, with a peaceful smile on his face and the other six members in tow, you all proceeded to celebrate– you congratulate them on what was, and what will be.

The future is bright for all of you, you remember saying in all your drunkness. This is just the prologue of a seven-chapter-book.

Jinyoung made fun of you for the whole week after that, but you know that deep down he’s happy; about his freedom, about his new endeavors, and about having you supporting him even though he’s barely spent any time with you after years of not spending time with you. You tell him it’s okay, though; too much time and you might end up getting tired of him. He knows it’s a joke, but pout anyways.

“So?” You squirm in front of him, wrapping the blanket tighter around your shivering body. He chuckles, and pulls you on top of him, laying down on the couch and squeezing you near. “Jinyoung!”

Your whine makes him smile even wider.

“What?” He groans, nuzzling into you. “It was okay. We talked, I thanked them for the opportunity to work with them, they kissed my ass; I signed a contract, they kissed my ass a bit more, and I left.”

Wiggling free of his grasp and the confines of the blanket, you prop yourself up on one elbow, looking down at a, clearly, very excited Jinyoung. His words can’t fool you; you know he’s squeaking in the inside.

“Oh my– it’s done? You signed with them?” He nods, hair falling over the crinkles in the corner of his eyes. “You are officially under their actor contract?”

“Oh yeah,” He whispers, pulling you down and covering your mouth with his. “Get ready, Y/N. Now it’s not just ahgase, you have to share me with; all the ahjummas will want me, too.”

“As if they don’t want you as it is,” You snort, chuckling at the memory of your cousin’s wedding. “Remember Auntie Kim?”

Jinyoung groans at the mention of the woman that followed him around the whole event. “Don’t remind me of that… I’m sure she’s around here, lurking around, just waiting for the right moment to pounce.”

You giggle. “She was enamored, babe,” You joke. “Give her a chance. Could be true love.”

“It was definitely not true love,” He laughs, locking eyes with you. “I know true love.”

“Really?” You gasp. “Can you tell me what it’s like?”

With a serious face, Jinyoung simply unwraps his arms from around you, and in between pulling the blanket on top of him and rolling to face the other way, he ends up pushing you to the ground, the loud thud making him burst out in laughter.

“Damn, Bambam was right,” You wince, hand rubbing your ass. “Your hips really are big.”

“Yah!” He whines, covering his face with the fluffy blanket he stole from you. “Shut up, we agreed we’d never talk about this again.”

“Nope,” You pop your lips close to his ear, pulling the cover from his face and returning to lay cuddled to him. “You said you never wanted to talk about it again; I just laughed.”

His grumbling dies down in your ear as his eyes finally focus on the huge screen behind you, where his face is big and in HD.

“Are you– Is that me?” He laughs, pointing at the TV, where you barely remembered to have paused the first episode of He is Psychometric. The school uniform contrasting with the man in from of you, and you can barely believe Jinyoung actually managed to pull off a high school student part in a drama. “I had a lot of fun filming that show…”

You can practically hear the longing in his voice, the nostalgia, and you feel a warm sensation spreading through your body as he eyes sparkle with the excitement that never really died down, even after the show ended, even after he moved on to the next. It never leaves– it just accumulates.

“I think,” You hum, hands finding solace in his chest, and then, sneakily, shoving your cold palms under the hem and into his warm skin. Jinyoung yelps, but doesn’t push you away– never pushes you away. “I think this afternoon calls for a binge watch party.”

“Sure,” He shrugs. “What do you wanna watch?”

“All of my favorite actor’s shows,” You wiggle your brows and before he can even try and grab the remote away, you stretch your arms out of reach, already typing his name on the search handle. “Park Jinyoung.”

“Y/N, love… come on,” He pulls your closer, hiding his face on your hair, but you still feel his smile. You know this is not truly bothering him, or else you’d never even suggest it. “No…”

“Oh yes,” You kiss the tip of his nose. “And we’re doing this chronologically, so you can observe how much you’ve progressed and how much you deserve this opportunity, my love.”

“Wait,” Now he is shocked. “No. No no no, that means–“

“You know it!” You interrupt him, clicking play just as he shouts in your ear, embarrassed. “Dream High 2, baby!”

“Y/N, baby, listen to me,” He begs, mouth over your ear and you can’t help the shiver that runs over your body. Jinyoung uses that to his advantage, very well aware of his effect on you. “You don’t want that, huh? How about we forget this and just go… celebrate?”

A kiss to your neck; a touch to your waits; and hands traveling lower and lower and– you grab his wrist before Jinyoung can venture further and complete his mission, choosing to watch the opening credits instead.

No matter how much Jinyoung huffs and puffs, you hear him whispering the lines behind you; you feel him silently laughing as his chest pushes against your back. You know your boyfriend is having the time of his life relishing on the beginning of his career, both as an actor and as an idol, and you can’t wait– you can’t wait to see what the future will bring, and the many afternoons to come where you see it all over again, knowing that no matter the characters, no matter the plots… there is just one Park Jinyoung, and he belongs to you, just as you belong to him.

You two reach episode five before the doorbell rings. And then rings again. And again and again and again and it actually takes both of you around the tenth ring to actually move.

“Coming!” You shout, knowing exactly who is on the other side. There are only six men that would feel this comfortable with invading Jinyoung’s well preserved privacy, and after a couple of day without them, you already missed their chaotic energy. “Come in, you rascals.”

“Y/N!” Yugyeom embraces you before running inside. It takes a while for you to notice, but they are all wearing comfortable clothing, almost like this had been planned. “Missed you.”

“Jinyoung texted you guys, didn’t he?” You ask Jaebeom as he comes inside, smiling widely at you.

“Of course,” He rolls his eyes, walking besides you to living room. “Something about Dream High 2 and a binge watch party?”

“Oh yes,” You nod, looking at your boyfriend, who know sheepishly looks at yours if he’s a child who’s been caught stealing cookies. “A party indeed.”

Jumping on top of Jinyoung, you two cuddle close on your side of the couch, allowing Jackson enough space to poke you two with his feet every time young Jinyoung popped up on the screen. Yugyeom and Bambam sit on the ground by your feet, and they cringe every time they see themselves, hands squeezing your feet enough to earn angry flicks from the man squeezing you to himself. Jaebeom and Mark focus more on the food then on the show, but you still see them wincing at their old selves; and it’s quite funny, if you have to admit. It’s hilarious to see their faces contort in embarrassment, although their eyes tell another story– their eyes shine with pride and recognition.

Pride for all they did, all they became. Recognition of how much they achieved, how far they came. And now, after seven years these seven boys are finally ready to move on with the certainty that no matter what, where, how, or whom… they’ll always be together. Be it for red carpets, concerts, study sessions, or a simple binge watching party at your apartment.

“What are you thinking, Y/N?” Jinyoung whispers in your ear, lips finding your cheek right after. “Hm?”

“Just… how big your hips are.”

“They really are, aren’t they, Y/N?” Bambam gasps, turning around to look at both of you, and if you turn around, you know exactly what face Jinyoung will have– tongue poking his cheek in annoyance, eyes closed, and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“They really are, Bam,” You giggle, turning around and pecking your boyfriend’s lips. “But they are perfect nonetheless.”

“You only say that because you have pretty big hips too, Y/N,” Yugyeom says while chewing on some popcorn and you practically choke on your spit.

“Excuse me?!” You screech, body leaping forward, but before you can get your hands on Yugyeom’s, Jinyoung pulls your back to him.

“Shhh,” He whispers in your ear, voice carrying all the laughter he makes an effort to suppress. He kisses your hair, quieting your indignation towards the youngest’s statement. “Just accept it. Just accept it, love.”

“Wha–“

“Your hips are big,” Jinyoung’s eyes shine with mischief. “But they are perfect nonetheless.”

—————————————

I have to say, I’m really loving this series, each and everyone of them, but every time I write the new one I like them more ;) What do you think of this one, my lovelies? Jinyoung is so cute! If you liked this story, please please please share, comment, like, or anything you feel comfortable doing ❤️ thank you for your endless support, lovelies💕

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ko-fanatic · 4 years ago

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Blood, Guts and Chocolate Cake

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Danganronpa

Pairings: IshiMondo

Summary:

Mondo Owada, the Ultimate Bodyguard, is entering a four year contract with one Kiyotaka Ishimaru, the Ultimate Idol. It makes sense, two Ultimates put together for their high school careers, and he could use the steady pay check to send home to Daiya; those medical bills were a bitch, and it was his fault the accident happened in the first place.

It was supposed to be easy, guard the cutesy, clean-cut idol from perverts and stalkers, no big deal! However, the world's perception of Kiyotaka Ishimaru was far different than what the young idol had become. During the first few months before even stepping into Hope's Peak, he's more worried for the young boy than he's ever been for anyone before.

TW: Alcohol, and eating disorders (both restrictive behaviours and B/P), mentions of disability, underage sex/sexualisation, drugs

The hallways of this damn building were too long.

That was definitely the first impression Mondo got, being led down said monotonous hallways by a young woman with an expression which implied that she simply wasn’t paid enough to care about small talk. Not that he had any room to judge, hands shoved in his pockets and a permanent scowl on his face. He might’ve been going to review an upcoming contract, but the best thing about his position was that there was no need to be all smiley; Hope Peak’s choice for Ultimate Bodyguard was all the credentials he needed at this point.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated by how long he would be working with these record label types. He couldn’t deny it made sense - hire the Ultimate Bodyguard to protect the Ultimate Idol, sound logic; it was just that a four year contract was… a lot. That wasn’t even thinking about the fact he was going to be glued to the guy’s hip for all that time, having to get along no matter what. Would he even have time to make friends of his own? Doubtful. Still, a paycheck was a paycheck, and he’d have to go to some highschool anyway, so kill two birds with one stone.

He’d never had an issue smiling through vapid celebrity bullshit before. It was going to be an easy ride, too; from what he knew, the guy was as prim and proper as they came. Real boy next door image. Easy to take care of, and mainly just telling overzealous fans to back the fuck up. Simple.

His inner monologue was broken by an abrupt stop, the woman only sending a bored glance his way before knocking. The door was pushed ajar with the quiet muttering of “Mondo Owada to see you, gentlemen”, before he was unceremoniously shepherded into the room.

It was just as big as you’d expect from a building like this, with a gargantuan desk and several business-types sitting across from him. They were even backlit by a floor-to-ceiling window showing Tokyo in all its glory - like some cheesy ass movie. Still, taking a cursory glance around the room, he couldn’t see anyone fitting the description of “teen idol”, let alone Ishimaru himself...

“Owada-san, good afternoon!” One of the men greeted cheerfully, clasping his hand in one of those firm yet professional grips he’d gotten used to since rising up in his career, “My name is Shiro Kamei, and these gentlemen are Kenshin Aki and Yutaka Hayashida. We’re Kiyotaka Ishimaru-san’s managers.”

“Well, that answers one question,” He shrugged, not sugarcoating his words, but not being as rude as he certainly could be, “But I don’t see Ishimaru-san around. If I’m meeting with anyone, I personally think it should be with the guy I’m gonna be with 24/7, for the next four years.”

“Of course!” Kamei-san chirped, far too cheerful for his taste, especially considering the stench of ass-kissing that followed it. Not sincere, but too many meetings like this one had trained him to swallow down the vomit that threatened to spew from the fakeness of it all.

“Ishimaru-san will be here soon,” Hyashida-san intoned, temperament a bit more palatable than Mr Chipper, “He’s a rather busy young man, being an idol of his caliber. Dance practice is just wrapping up, any minute now, so we can use this time to have a little chat - go through expectations for your role and such.”

Mondo managed to stop himself raising an eyebrow at that. Like he wasn’t the best bodyguard in Japan. He guessed it was something needed for a job of this sort, not temping or whatever, and so he settled down for a bunch of timewasting jabber.

Or, it was, until a certain request caught his attention.

“We also expect him to be kept out of, well… trouble…”

“Thought he was a cutesy, innocent kid?” He frowned, sitting a little straighter in his seat, attention piqued, “I’m guessing he’s the kind to get mouth-breathers and creeps, huh?”

The three men looked a little more caged at that remark. A couple cleared throats, a few tugged collars and cuffs, awkward air.

“Yes, there have been incidents, but nothing previous security couldn’t handle,” Aki-san informed, “The issue is a recent change in attitude. Nothing much, but tugging on the leash more than necessary, if you understand my meaning.”

He did. Part of him wanted to object to the idea that a sixteen year old needed to be kept on a leash at all, but idol shit was full of PR.

“So boy next door is going through a little rebellion, and you want me to make sure it stays on the DL,” He shrugged, “Got it.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, Owada-san -!”

Kamei-san was interrupted by several short, sharp raps, door opening to reveal the man of the hour.

Ishimaru was pretty, no denying that. His eyes were what really caught everyone’s attention; bright, wide and doll-like. That said nothing about his facial structure - cheekbones and jawline and everything prominent - or his barbie doll-esque frame. He was probably one of the slimmest people Mondo had ever seen, at least in person. Well, and outside of a hospital. The media went absolutely gaga over his thigh gap, his lithe abs and delicate hip bones.

He personally prefers a little more meat on the bones, a little less fragile, but he guessed it was an idol’s job to appeal to the masses.

“Good morning, everybody!” He beams, but honestly? The sunshine emanating from him is a lot warmer - a lot more real - than Kamei-san. He actually had to take a second to come back to himself, knocked off equilibrium. The power of the Ultimate Idol, for you.

“Kiyotaka, this is Mon -”

“Mondo Owada,” He cuts in, wanting to introduce himself, cut the preamble, and offers his hand to shake, “‘M gonna be the one guarding you.”

Ishimaru gives him a once over, and for two seconds he thinks he sees a smirk pull at the corner of the young man’s lips, but he soon brushes it off as a trick of the light.

“Thank you so much for accepting our proposition, Owada-san!” He grins, and Mondo hates his little bi heart at that moment. Ishimaru clasps his hand. He can’t help but feel that they’re too calloused for a pretty boy idol, but he doesn’t dwell on it, “I hope we get along well!”

He’s loud, but the words are sweet, and Mondo relaxes a little bit. Easy job, as he thought.

---

Mondo was proven wrong in a matter of three days into his contract. He’d certainly been proven wrong far quicker than that before; however, in terms of sheer what-the-fuckery-is-this, this situation took the cake.

The train journey to the first tour destination wasn’t bad, if tedious. Kid spent all his time reading, and Mondo had no clue how he didn’t puke all over the place from staring at the pages. He’d looked at his phone for about five minutes and was ready to lie down and accept his death.

… Trains were not his prefered method of transportation…

Ishimaru had passed on the sandwiches on offer, but so did Mondo. No big deal. Those things sucked ass, and maybe the kid was more nauseous than he seemed. Wish that was him, considering he was pretty sure his face was pale green.

Settling into the hotel was fine, as was the tech set up in the venue. Stress emanating off everyone, but pretty normal as far as that shit was concerned. Ishimaru was dragged between costume fittings, tech run throughs and other things that just passed in a blur.

No, what really proved to Mondo that the pretty boy idol was going through an actual rebellious phase, was what he walked in on at 11:56pm, night three.

He’d gotten up due to a serious inability to sleep. Seriously, did he manage to get jet lag without even switching time zones? Nah, didn’t work like that. Maybe it was second hand adrenaline from the performance being tomorrow. Ishimaru might not make his kind of music, but the guy had this infectious enthusiasm for it all. He’d be backstage, too; premo location to see everything up close. He couldn’t help the slight smile on his face, in spite of how tired he felt.

Any fleeting, fuzzy feelings disappeared, however, when he walked into the main area of their hotel suite.

There stood Ishimaru, back to him, very much not dressed for bed. His jeans were so tight they looked spray painted on, not to mention the sequined top that cut off to show a tantalising flash of milky pale skin.

“Where’re you off to?”

His question seemed to startle the kid, who practically jumped three feet in the air, hand clutching his chest as he whirled on him.

“Fuck, what’s your problem?” He gasped out. Mondo couldn’t help but let his eyes widen, having not heard the boy swear since they met. Admittedly, it was only a few days, but Ishimaru just gave off such an innocent vibe. He’d questioned if the boy even knew a swear word for a while.

“The guy I’m meant to protect is running off into the city at midnight, and obviously didn’t plan to tell me,” He answered bluntly, “So, come on, where’re you trying to slink off to?”

“None of your business,” He sniffed, shoulders squaring, “And stop… talking to me like that. Like I’m a child. It’s annoying as shit.”

“Alright, sor-ry, jeez,” He apologised, hands up in surrender, “Let me just grab my coat and -”

“No!” Ishimaru ground out, “I’m going out, you're staying here, and my managers are none the wiser, got it?”

Oh, that sneaky fucker. While Mondo was all for personal freedom, no way was the scrawny kid going out there to get attacked and murdered in some urine soaked alleyway. For one, it’d completely fuck up his plans for the next four years - no money to send back to Daiya, and he seriously doubted Hope’s Peak would want an Ultimate Bodyguard who let the world’s most popular idol get murdered in a matter of days.

“Yeah, no, not happening, kid,” He shut down, reaching over the boy to get his coat, only for hands to press against his chest, stopping him.

“What do you want then? Money?” Ishimaru asked, looking up at him through his lashes. Fuck, the kid really went all out with the makeup; smokey eyeshadow and liner, glossed lips, the whole deal, “Or I can suck your dick?”

He nearly choked at that, face hot as hell and probably an embarrassing shade of red. “N-No! What the fuck?!” He yelled, only earning a shrug in response.

“Look, I need to go out - alone,” Ishimaru began again, arguing a point Mondo simply wasn’t going to agree with, “I need to get a little fucked up, railed into some guy’s mattress, and then I’ll come back. I’ll be here again before sunrise.”

“Tugging on the leash more than necessary”, his ass!

“Sorry, you're talking to the wrong guy,” He dismissed, doing his best impression of Daiya’s you done fucked up voice he could, “Back to bed. Don’t think you’re sneaking out, either. I’m just gonna stay out here all night, make sure you don’t go and get yourself cut up and dumped in the river. Y’know, my job.”

“Fuck you,” Ishimaru spat, storming back to his room with a mutter of ,“Asshole…”

If Mondo knew one thing, it was this… He’d really had no idea what he was signing himself up for.

---

A/N:

WOW, it's been a while since I've written for this fandom. Thank you Taka and Mondo for being an adorable pair of dumbasses and dragging me right back into DR. Hopefully, I'll add to my old fics too, but I've got lots of new ideas I want to play with (Including two other talentswaps and two AUs!)

For now, Ouran fics are on the back burner, I'm afraid. I'm sure I'll be back to them soon enough, but I'm a bit burnt out in my OHSHC obsession, so we'll see.

Also, as always, comments really help and if you want to take any of these concepts and run, go for it! All I ask is a credit and a link if possible! :)

#danganronpa #Dangan Ronpa #dr talentswap #idol!Ishimaru #bodyguard!Mondo #ishimondo #Kiyotaka Ishimaru #mondo oowada #blood guts and chocolate cake series #my fanfiction

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css1992 · 5 years ago

Text

Such a softer sin

Summary: Tony is a self-made man. Peter is a sugar baby – someone else’s sugar baby.

When he turned to pull his chair out, the older man subtly checked out his ass and – of course, it was delicious, round and perky, two perfect handfuls. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the fact that he had a huge character flaw, a hamartia – he fucked people for money. He was basically a glorified whore, and if there was one thing Tony never had to do in his life was pay for sex, one way or another. So, really, he wouldn't start with – what was his name again?

Warnings: Explicit, 18+, mentions of non-con (not between main pairing, not explicit), age gap, power imbalance, employer/employee relationship, underage drinking. If you find anything triggering, please let me know!

Word count:18.4k

-x-

He was admittedly gorgeous, Tony could give him that. The honey brown eyes, the bouncy, fluffy curls and the clear, pale skin worked perfectly in his favor – he looked the part of the innocent, wholesome, young man ready to be swept off his feet and taken care of. Powerful men often liked that act, liked believing that they were deflowering innocence for the first time, liked believing they were wanted, needed. Tony knew better, though, he knew the type, he came across people like him all through his life.

When he was a broke, orphaned, half-starved college student, they wouldn’t give him the time of day. Snobby, pretty, little things like him only had eyes and time for those who had money, or something to offer – fame, influence, status. At the time, Tony had nothing, he could barely afford to eat everyday. After he graduated from MIT, he started working for Hammer Industries and as he started making more money, slowly, these people started taking notice of him, and he, too, started paying closer attention to them.

They weren’t difficult to spot either, they were usually young, attractive, with beautiful, fake smiles, weak personalities and a penchant for expensive gifts. It was easy to recognize them hanging off powerful men’s arms at functions, and dinners, and galas; bespoke suits or designer dresses covering their bodies, not a lot to add to the conversation. They were accessories, trophies. Pets.

Tony hated them. People who wanted to be at the very top, but couldn’t be bothered to take the stairs. They would use their pretty faces, feigned innocence, beautiful bodies and cute, fake laughs, to get farther faster. Not Tony. He did it the right way – the hard way –, worked day and night to get to his goal, got beat down so many times there were days he thought he wouldn’t be able to stand back up, but he did, every single time.

And time and experience made him wiser, smarter and bitter. At 40, he was finally able to start his own company, Stark Industries, it started small, but his genius inventions put his name on the map fairly quickly. That was how, five years later, he found himself having dinner with Norman Osborn, the most powerful man in New York, and his – boy toy? Sugar baby? Escort? Or something – discussing the possibility of a deal so big it could finally make Stark Industries live up to its full potential.

“So what I’m saying is that we can offer you the best and most advanced technology out there: my nanobots. I guarantee you it will make your job easier, faster and cheaper in the long run. I assure you, this a great deal and you should take it.” Tony was absolutely sure of what he was saying, he knew his product was good, his tech was flawless, he just needed to get it out there. He just needed a company like Oscorps to believe in him, then his work would speak for itself.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Stark, I think this whole nanotech thing is way too expensive and unnecessary, specially considering that I’m pretty sure Baintronics could do the same work for half the price, the old-fashioned way, which has been working just fine for the past decade.” Fuck, no, that old bat wasn’t looking at the big picture, he wasn’t thinking about the long run. Of course old tech would still get the job done, but Tony’s tech could do such a better job and so much more efficiently.

“No, but you see, that’s–”

“But –“ Norman raised a hand, successfully shutting Tony up and annoying the living hell out of him in the process. One day, he thought to himself, one day I’ll be able to say ‘fuck you’ to men like Norman Osborn. One day. “I’m willing to give it a try. Peter here says you’re the best at what you do, he’s the one who recommended that I agreed to meet with you, actually, when your PA called.”

Tony was taken aback by that information and eyed the young man carefully, causing him to blush a deep red and lower his gaze with a small, timid smile. Tony thought he was faking the whole thing, trying to be cute and sweet, but fuck – it worked for him. He seemed really young, maybe in his early twenties, and Tony had no idea how he could have heard of him, he wasn’t exactly famous, nor was S.I. His breakthroughs were only ever published in very specific scientific journals.

“I’m a huge fan of your work, Mr. Stark, I’ve always told Norman you two should work together, you’re both men ahead of your time.” He said quietly. He had a high-pitched, slightly feminine voice, which probably also worked in his favor with men like Osborn. It made him sound younger than he probably was, easier to manipulate and dominate.

Reluctantly, Tony accepted the compliment with a tight smile. He really needed that deal, he really needed for that to work, it would be the break SI needed, he could feel it, he could already taste the success.

“Very well, so here’s my offer. You will supply Oscorps with your nanotech for a year, then we can take it from there. This would be your cut for this first year.” Osborn wrote something down on a piece of paper and slid it towards Tony across the table. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the numbers – and the amount of zeros –, but he pretended to be cool about it, he even put on a show of looking slightly disappointed. “And there’s a lot more where this comes from, Stark. This could be the beginning of a beautiful, and mutually beneficial, friendship.”

“I do hope it is, Mr. Osborn. I look forward to working with your company. I’m sure we’re gonna be a great fit.” Tony tried to sound cool and professional, but he was having a little heart attack on the inside. He had been trying to schedule a meeting with Norman for months and the billionaire – or, most likely, his PA – kept making excuses. Now there he was, closing a huge deal with the promise of a mutually beneficial friendship in the future.

After that, he could breathe more easily during dinner. He couldn’t wait to tell Pepper, Bruce and Nat, though, they had to celebrate properly, maybe they could all go to his apartment and finally crack open that Macallan he bought when he made his first million. But meanwhile, he was stuck in the restaurant with Norman and his boy-toy, which he wouldn’t complain too much about, at least it was a nice view.

Again, there was no denial that the boy was beautiful. There was just something naturally sensual and charismatic about him, Tony couldn’t avoid looking his way, even when he wasn’t talking. And when he did talk, it was magnetic. He didn’t say much, as Tony expected, but what he didn’t expect was for him to be so smart. The few times he said anything was to ask questions about his tech, and those were surprisingly pertinent. Sometime along the night, Tony figured out that he was studying to become a mechanical engineer at Columbia and he wondered if Norman had anything to do with it – probably.

Tony was reminded of his own college years, of how he had to work his ass off to get a scholarship, and how many crazy hours he had to work to make ends meet, just to be able to build something for himself. He didn’t seek the help of men like Norman, although he could have. The name Stark meant something, once upon a time. His father was considered a gifted inventor, he was respected by huge companies, but he never built anything of his own.

When he died, Tony was only eleven. He still didn’t know exactly what happened, but soon after that, his mother lost everything he had left – which wasn’t much to begin with. She was never quite herself again, she was so depressed, she never even smiled anymore, she sometimes didn’t have the energy to get out of bed, Tony was the one doing the house chores, cooking for her, trying to make sure she was okay. She died eight years later from an aneurysm, Tony found her lying on the couch, looking peaceful for the first time in so many years.

In short, he never had it easy, and he never tried to make it easier for himself either – at least not in shady ways. He just wanted to do the right thing, even if it took longer – which it did. He was a forty-five year old man, but he made a name for himself, the name Stark held respect once again.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” The young man got up after a quick peck to Norman’s lips and headed to the bathroom. Tony made a huge effort and pointedly did not stare at his ass as he left. He was really proud of himself for that, maybe two years earlier he wouldn’t have been able to pull that off, he had no shame. At least now he had some. A little. Sort of.

“What do you think of him?” Norman had a neutral expression on, he gave nothing away, but it seemed like a test. What sort of question was that, why did it matter what Tony thought of his fuck toy?

“He seems really smart,” he answered with a small smile. It was a polite, diplomatic answer, and not untrue.

“What else?” Norman pushed, with a knowing smirk, and Tony almost cursed under his breath, thinking that maybe he’d been too obvious with his staring all through dinner, after all.

“He’s very pretty,” he admitted, although still with his cool, professional face on. Norman’s smirk grew wider.

“He sure is. Cute pet. Smart, polite, funny. You should get one for yourself, Stark. They’re kinda expensive, but worth every penny.” His shark-like smile took over his whole face and Tony had to fight back a grimace. He just smiled and shook his head no.

“Not really my style, sir.” Buying people, paying for sex, that sort of thing, he wanted to add.

“It’s not anyone’s style until it is.” He gave Tony a once over and smirked. “We’re not getting any younger.” The engineer was offended, he wanted to tell him he aged like good wine, unlike certain people, but refrained. He just gave him a strained smile and took a sip of his drink.

As if on cue, the pretty boy returned to the table and Tony took a couple of seconds to appreciate his outfit. He wore a dark blue suit, very elegant and very expensive looking, certainly a gift from Osborn, and it fit him like a glove. Tony supposed it was bespoke. It complimented his lithe, lean body beautifully.

When he turned around to pull his chair out, the older man subtly checked out his ass and – of course, it was delicious, round and perky, two perfect handfuls. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the fact that he had a huge character flaw, a hamartia – he fucked people for money. He was basically a glorified whore, and if there was one thing Tony never had to do in his life was pay for sex, one way or another. So, really, he wouldn't start with – what was his name again?

“So, come by the office on Monday, we’ll talk over all the details, then you can take the draft contract to your legal team and we can meet again – say, in another week?”

“Yeah, sure, this sounds perfect,” he answered coolly, not mentioning that his “legal team” consisted of one single Natasha Romanoff, who would have his balls for dinner when she found out that she would only have seven days to look over what was bound to be a very long, very complex contract.

“Well, then, Mr. Stark. You’ve got yourself a deal.” Norman got up from his chair, what clearly meant dinner was over, and Tony rushed to his feet, offering his had to shake.

“You won’t regret this, sir,” he spoke in a strong, firm voice, because he was positive of it.

“Good.” Osborn shook his hand once and turned to leave without saying goodbye.

“It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Stark, I hope we’ll see each other again soon.” The pretty boy took his hand as well, eyes glinting, a coy smile on his face. Tony couldn’t tell if he was flirting or if he was pretending to be shy, but he ignored it and just nodded curtly.

“Thank you, it’s been a pleasure to meet you, too.” He didn’t dare try to remember his name, Tony was pretty sure it started with a P, but he wouldn’t risk it.

As soon as they left the restaurant, the CEO punched the air in celebration, calling Pepper right away.

---*---

The meeting on Monday went smoothly, they agreed that Tony would be personally charged with the maintenance of his tech at least a week a month – he made it seem like it was a courtesy, but, in reality, he still didn’t have anyone on his team who could do the job quite as well as he could. They also agreed that he would have a small team of five scientists at his disposal during such period, so he wouldn’t have to dislodge anyone from his company to do it – again, he didn’t mention that five people were basically half of his scientific team and he couldn’t afford them not working for SI for a whole week each month.

As expected, he didn’t see the pretty boy in the meeting, Tony supposed he only made an appearance in social functions and such, so he could make Norman look good. To Tony’s surprise, though, seven days later, after Natasha bullied him into promising a 10% raise after the shit he’d pulled with the contract, the pretty boy was in the meeting room when he arrived to sign the deal. Norman’s PA and a few of his lawyers were there as well, Tony was with Pepper and Natasha, and he quickly whispered to Pepper that he was the boy he’d told her about. He approached them with a shy, nervous smile and Tony almost wanted to roll his eyes at the facade.

“Hi, I’m Peter Parker, I’m an intern here.” Ah, Peter. That sounded about right. Tony thought it was something along those lines. And he was an intern for Oscorps, of course. What a joke. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Stark. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Hello, Mr. Parker, this is Miss Potts, my assistant, and this is Miss Romanoff, head of my legal team. I’ll have a coffee – black, no sugar. Thank you.” Again, he kept it professional and barely even looked at the kid, he knew what he looked like and he knew he was off limits, so why tease himself by looking?

“I’m good.” Natasha smiled sweetly, making the boy blush even harder.

“I’ll have the same as Mr. Stark, thank you, Mr. Parker.” Peter quickly turned and headed out of the room and Pepper turned to whisper to him. “You weren’t kidding, he’s really fucking young, he looks like he could be Norman’s grandson, for Christ’s sake.” Tony snorted and Natasha eyed them knowingly, but with a look that screamed “behave” and they both schooled their expressions. Shortly after, the boy walked back in with their coffee and they thanked him, as he blushed and nodded, taking a seat to the left of what should be Osborn’s chair.

The meeting didn’t take long at all, everything had already been discussed, it was just a formality, so barely twenty minutes later they were all getting up from their seats, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. Tony was almost out of the room when he felt a hand at his elbow followed by a softly spoken, “Mr. Stark, can I have a word?”.

Of course the devil himself would tempt him, even if Tony was trying to be good. He was forced to turn around and actually look at the young man, he was wearing a lavender dress shirt, with a dark gray tie and black pants. He looked like the cutest little businessman ever, and Tony was sure that if Peter were to turn his back, he would be presented with his perfect bubble butt looking amazing in those slacks, but – he was the forbidden fruit. Besides, Tony mused, he probably couldn’t afford a single night with Peter, he was only a millionaire, after all, and he’d rather spend his money on shiny things and get his lays for free.

“Yes, Mr. Parker?” The boy’s cheeks were impossibly red and Tony figured he couldn’t really fake that, so he supposed he really was shy to some degree. He looked over his shoulder and saw Pepper and Natasha waiting just outside the door, warning looks on their faces, and he rolled his eyes.

“I was wondering – I talked to No--, I mean, Mr. Osborn, about the possibility of maybe, uhm. Working with you? When you come to do the maintenance, I mean. It’s just, we don’t really have an engineering department, so you would be working mainly with biochemists and a few lab techs, so I thought maybe I could assist you with the hands-on work, you know? I don’t know if Mr. Osborn mentioned, but I’m studying to become a mechanical engineer as well and it would be an honor working with you, sir. Mr. Osborn said it was ok as long as you agreed, so...” He shuffled his feet and avoided looking at the older man.

“Look, kid.” Tony sighed, because, fuck. How could he say no to Norman’s boy without being rude? And how could he say yes to working with someone who was clearly useless to him and would only serve as a distraction – and worse, a temptation. He needed a way out of that. “I don’t really know if there would be much for you to do, I mean, it’s pretty new and advanced technology, and you’re, what, a freshman, right?”

“Actually, I’ll graduate next fall, sir.” Tony was taken aback by that and it must have shown on his face if Peter’s answering blush was anything to go by.

“I’m sorry, how old are you again?” He asked, trying not to sound too rude.

“I’ll be twenty in August, sir.” If Tony was impressed by that, he didn’t let it show, but if the kid would manage to graduate from Columbia at twenty, then he must not be that useless after all, but Tony wouldn’t hold his breath.

“Very well, then. I guess I’ll see you in a month, Mr. Parker.” He nodded and Peter could barely contain his grin when he shook his hand excitedly. It was cute and endearing and – oh, God, Tony almost fell for his little act. Fuck, he really needed to be on his toes around that guy.

“Thank you, sir, I really appreciate it!”

As soon as Tony stepped out of the building and headed towards his car with Natasha and Pepper on his heels, the Russian red-head looked at him seriously.

“Tony, I swear to God, if you try to get your dick wet with that boy, I quit. I’m not even gonna start on how much legal and PR trouble you’re gonna get yourself into by fucking Norman’s boyfriend, specially considering he’s, like, twelve, and happens to work for your business partner. Don’t fuck this up!” She warned as she got inside the car and, again, Tony had to roll his eyes as he got behind the wheel.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie, if the circumstances were different, I’d be all over that,” he admitted, noticing Pep’s aggravated look. “But of course I’m not gonna do anything to jeopardize this deal, ok? Besides, you know how I feel about gold diggers. You saw him and you saw Osborn, why in the fucking hell a guy like him would fuck a mummy like Osborn? He’s, like, a hundred years old!”

“He’s fifty five, and I don’t know if you know this, Tony, but people have sex for reasons that go beyond appearances. You know, like love, affinity, connection –”

“-- Money, fame, status. C’mon, Pep, don’t be naive. Do you really think that boy loves Osborn? He just likes expensive restaurants and fancy cars. Maybe, if he’s thinking big, he’s gonna use him to get a good job after graduation, but that’s it.”

“Well, then, if you think he’s such a terrible person, you’ll have no problem staying the hell away from him, right?” She looked at him with narrowed eyes and he looked away from the traffic for a second to smirk at her.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, easy breezy.”

--*--

As it turned out, it wasn’t easy breezy.

Peter was like a lost puppy trailing after him the following month, he spent the whole week glued to his hip, asking questions, making suggestions, and even supplying him with a never ending amount of coffee. If Tony was a hundred percent honest, he kinda liked it. The kid seriously treated him like a hero, a celebrity, he seemed to look up to him and, in the end, he proved to be a valuable asset on the team. He was really smart and hardworking, he understood everything Tony was saying even before he was done talking and he had really steady, tiny hands, which were always useful with nanotech.

Tony couldn’t really stay away from him and slowly learned a few things about him from what little information he stuttered out when answering his questions. First, the older man learned that he got into Columbia when he was only sixteen, which was kind of amazing, if he was being completely honest. Tony wanted to believe that that had happened way before he met Norman Osborn, but he didn’t really know when they met.

He had a scholarship and lived with his aunt until she passed away a little over a year earlier and now he shared an apartment with four other people, which surprised Tony, he figured Norman would have hooked him up with a nice place – but then again, he had no idea when they met, it could have been only months earlier. Peter said that, originally, he wanted to go to MIT, but he only got a partial scholarship there, so he had to give it up and go to Columbia. He also said that that was how he knew Tony beforehand. The older man was sort of a famous MIT alumnus, specially among the engineering students, so Peter heard of him and followed his work through scientific publications, which was – well, Tony was flattered.

Even if those bits of information somewhat made Tony warm up to the young man, other few things still annoyed him just as much. First of all, clearly Peter was a very bright kid, possibly one of the smartest people Tony knew besides himself and Bruce, he didn’t really need Norman’s influence to succeed, and still, there he was. Second, he quickly picked up on the fact that Peter wasn’t exactly Norman’s boyfriend, he was more of a… Sugar baby? And one of many, actually, although he seemed to be the favorite. After Tony signed the deal, he started paying closer attention to what tabloids said about Norman and apparently he had a very long list of (young) lovers, but he was officially single.

Somehow, that made Tony even more disgusted by their relationship. He just couldn’t understand why a guy like Peter would put himself in that position, for what? Money? A job? What was it that Norman could offer him that he couldn’t get himself? The thing was, Peter kind of reminded Tony of himself at that age. He was pretty much in the same situation: he had no family and no money, he only had his brains – and while Tony had made something out of it, Peter was trying to take a shortcut and the engineer didn’t appreciate that.

“Here, check this out, see how they respond a lot faster now?” Tony made room so that the younger man could look through the microscope, a wide grin spreading across his face in a few seconds. “You have to think of them as neurons, they communicate with each other by electrical pulses, similar to synapses. For that to work out perfectly and seamlessly, they need to be really close by, without touching, that’s why the electromagnetic field has to be perfect, if it’s just a tiny bit off, the response time increases exponentially. Got it?”

“Got it, Mr. Stark!” He answered excitedly and Tony smiled at him.

“Well, my work here is done. See you next month?” Tony got up from his chair, gathering his things around the lab.

“I can’t wait." Somehow, Tony knew he actually meant it.

The following month, Peter was just as helpful and just as excited as the month before. He was in the lab before Tony – who was always early himself – and he always greeted him with a bright smile and an excited wave of his hand. As the engineer settled his things on his work bench, Peter would get him coffee, and he always remembered how Tony liked it. They got right to work, which they did everyday for a week without any disruption. The intern always offered to stay late, but Tony never took him up on that, he knew he had classes in the afternoon and he didn’t want him to get in trouble. Just as he was starting to warm up to him, though, on Friday, the engineer was reminded why he didn’t like him in the first place.

“You’re late, Mr. Parker.” Tony mumbled from his seat in front of the microscope as soon as he heard the glass door open with a hiss as the smell of coffee filled the room. Peter was only twelve minutes late, but it was only their second week working together, it didn’t seem very professional.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark, I was – uh, in a meeting with Mr. Osborn.” He lied through his teeth, Tony could almost smell the nervousness when he came close enough. He hated being lied to, specially when he knew what Peter was probably doing in that “meeting”. It was just inexcusable.

“Just because you’re Norman’s boy doesn’t mean you get special treatment in this lab, you hear me? I don’t care what you do with him all the other weeks that I’m not here, but if you wanna be a part of my team, during my lab hours, you gotta be here and on time. Are we clear?” He didn’t bother lifting his eyes from the microscope and almost missed the whispered and wavered, “yes, sir” that Peter let out. When he turned to the younger man, his eyes were bloodshot, his clothes were rumpled, his face ashen and his lower lip was wobbling, he looked like he had a rough night and an early morning, and he looked like he was holding back tears. Tony almost regretted the harsh treatment. Almost. “Is this my coffee?” He pointed at the cup, averting his gaze.

“Yes, sir.” He answered quickly, offering the beverage like a gift.

On his third month there, Tony tried to keep his distance from the younger man. He promised Natasha and Pepper that he would and, up until that point, he hadn’t been very successful. So during the week of March that he had to go to Oscorps, he avoided the younger man, made himself unavailable and charged him with boring and complicated tasks that should take all week to get done. Still, the boy did everything he was told and only took half the time expected, he was always on time and always, always brought him coffee, just the way he liked it. It was really hard to ignore him.

“You know you don’t have to bring me coffee, right? It’s not in your job description.” Tony felt the need to point out on Friday when he saw the boy walking in with the beverage, but he just shrugged and smiled a little.

“I know, I just want to make sure you have everything you need, sir. Besides, I used to work at a coffee shop, I don’t mind making your coffee.” When he said that, Tony’s brows shot into his hairline.

“You made this?” He asked, incredulously, and the boy cocked his head in confusion.

“Yeah, where did you think this came from?” He frowned, amused.

“Uh, I don’t know, some fucking gourmet coffee shop downstairs?” Peter laughed, genuinely laughed, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled in the most endearing way, as he shook his head.

“You’re funny, Mr. Stark.”

Peter was the funny one, actually, and the whole thing was just so confusing to Tony. He thought he had the younger man all figured out, he thought he knew what kind of person he was, what he was after, but sometimes Peter would do or say things that just didn’t add up to Tony’s assumptions. The boy was kind and generous and humble, he was proactive and hardworking, and so annoyingly nice. He was easy to talk to, too, sometimes they’d have whole conversations about the most random subjects as they worked and Tony would only realize what they did at the end of the day, as he left and Peter waved at him with that charming smile and it made something burn in Tony’s chest and he couldn’t figure out why.

On his fourth month there, Peter surprised him on the first day. He brought him coffee in a mug that read: “If it ain’t broke, take it apart and fix it”. Usually, his coffee was put in a styrofoam cup with Oscorps logo on it, he had no idea where the mug came from, and when he asked, the boy blushed slightly, shuffling his feet.

“Uhm, actually – I heard it was your birthday last week, so I just – I mean, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be inappropriate or anything, it’s just – the environment and stuff. So. Uh – happy birthday?” He looked really uncomfortable just saying that, and Tony was equal parts amused and amazed, so he dropped his eyes back to the simple, white mug with bright red letters.

“That’s – actually really nice, Peter. Thank you.” He looked back at the young man and his cheeks were burning red. It was really… fucking cute. Fuck.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Stark.” His answering tiny smile warmed the older man’s heart, but he swallowed whatever feeling dared to emerge.

By Tony’s fifth month working with Oscorps, things finally started to feel natural, pleasant. When he arrived in the morning, he greeted everyone by name, threw smiles and flirty comments here and there and walked the hallways like he owned the place. His team worked like a well-oiled machine and they were always early, specially Peter, after that one time he was late. When he arrived, they already had a head start on him, which was always good, and they were able to go home a little earlier everyday.

“Good morning, everybody.” Tony raised his head when he heard Norman’s voice, a little surprised. Aside from his first day there, he hadn’t seen the old man at all, so it was weird for him to be in the lab, specially so early.

“Mr. Osborn, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Tony asked, watching closely as the older man walked towards Peter, who avoided his gaze furiously, pretending to be focused on his work, although it was clear that he was barely breathing. Norman grinned in his direction, but didn’t say anything, and Tony raised an eyebrow at the interaction.

“Miss Watson let me know you would be here today, so I thought I’d personally invite you to our annual Charity Gala, it will take place next month, on the eleventh. Will you be able to make it?”

“Yes, of course, sir, I can move some stuff around.” Fucking hell, he hated those functions. A bunch of assholes kissing other assholes’s butts and pretending to be good citizens by donating to charity only for the press. Just his type of event. But nonetheless, the type of event he needed to be seen in, someplace where he could meet people and make connections.

“Great, I’ll send the formal invitation to Stark Industries, I look forward to seeing you there. Mr. Stark.” He nodded in his direction and Tony did the same. “Mr. Parker.” He turned towards the young man who still hadn’t looked up. His cheeks burned a bright red when he looked at the older man.

“Mr. Osborn.” He gritted his teeth and, again, Norman grinned, buttoning his suit jacket as he left the lab.

Hm. Odd.

--*--

“At least pretend to be having a good time, Tony.” Pepper whispered through her teeth, a fake smile plastered on as she waved to people Tony could barely recognize. She was wearing a beautiful blue gown, his birthday gift to her, apparently, and not for the first time Tony wondered what would have been if he hadn’t blown things up with her. If he hadn’t cheated on her with half the city when they were in college. He was a stupid, stupid boy in his twenties. And thirties. And early forties.

It was a work in progress.

“I am pretending, don’t I look convincing?” He turned to look at her with what he was certain was a terrible grimace and she snorted into her champagne glass, causing them both to giggle like stupid teenagers. He was glad she had agreed to go as his plus one, he would have blown his brains for sure if he was alone in there.

“Good evening, Mr. Stark.” Ah, Tony could recognize that sweetly high-pitched voice from miles away, but when he turned around he wasn’t ready for such a vision. Peter was wearing a gorgeous burgundy suit with a black, silk shirt underneath, as well as a black tie. His hair was perfectly swept to the side, his curls tamed for once, but still showing at the nape of his neck. He looked absolutely beautiful and fucking expensive. Tony wanted to unwrap him, then wreck him in the best possible way. “And Miss Potts, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker, it’s nice to see you again,” she answered pleasantly and Tony was glad she was there because he was sure that he was staring for way too long to be polite. He cleared his throat and smiled at the young man, who quickly slipped into character looking shyly at him from under his eyelashes.

“Mr. Parker, fancy seeing you here,” Tony spoke confidently, subtly looking around for Norman, but he was nowhere to be seen. “And where’s Mr. Osborn?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him.” He averted his gaze, his tiny and usually steady hands trembling a little, before closing into fists. “Well, it was nice seeing you –“

“Hey, c’mon, have a drink with us,” Tony interrupted him, sensing his discomfort.

“Oh, uh – I’m sorry, sir, I’m not old enough to drink.” Tony was almost taken aback by that fact. The amount of information that he carried in that brilliant brain of his did not compute with his age.

“I won’t tell if you don’t. Neither will Miss Potts, right?” Tony turned to look at Pepper, only to see her staring daggers at him, in a way that probably only he could tell, they had a special way of communicating, so he quickly sent her a “what?” glare and she sighed.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear any of this and I’m just gonna go talk to Mrs. Bain, if you’ll excuse me, please.” She smiled sweetly at Peter and walked away from them, as Tony rolled his eyes.

“Well, her loss.” The older man shrugged, grabbing two champagne glasses from a passing waiter. “Have you ever had one of these?” He asked, offering him one of the glasses. “I’m not corrupting you, am I?” Tony asked charmingly, with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow. Peter giggled, blushing and shaking his head no.

“No, it’s okay, Norman usually gets me a few drinks when we’re out,” he answered, accepting the glass. Just the mention of the older man had Tony deflating slightly, reminded of the fact that Peter couldn’t be his.

“So, how come you didn’t come together?” He asked innocently, although he knew it was probably a touchy subject. The younger man took a long sip of his drink, licking his wet lips once he was done, and Tony wished it was his tongue running across those thin, pink lips.

“He’d rather bring another date, so.” He shrugged with a small, fake smile, and quickly changed the subject. “I’ve recently read that you’re working on a holographic system that’s supposed to connect with the user's hippocampus and project their memories, is that true?” Tony was surprised by that, he had written a paper about it with Bruce not long before, Peter must really keep up with his work.

“Yeah, but I’m in a bit of a pickle right now, got stuck with the neuroscience portion of it.” Tony scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed about the admission, but Peter only smiled wider.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. And it’s gonna be groundbreaking. Again. Well, it seems like everything you do changes the world somehow.” His cheeks were flushed, and maybe it was wishful thinking, maybe Tony was falling for Peter’s little game, but he thought he was actually flirting with him. Really flirting, not “I wanna be your sugar baby” flirting.

“That’s a lot of trust you’re putting in me, kid.” Tony dared to step a little closer to him and the young man bit his lower lip, holding back a smile, cheeks flushing pink.

“Yeah, but I think you can back it up.” He tilted his head back a little to look up at the older man. Tony held his gaze for a few seconds, before he dropped it to his lips. He smiled when the young man nervously licked them.

“I’m sorry I’m too hard on you in the lab. I just don’t want anyone thinking that I treat you differently because of the boss.” Tony took yet another step and Peter didn’t move an inch, allowing him to get closer and closer.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m just thankful to be in your team, I’m learning a lot.” This time, Tony was sure he wasn’t imagining things, Peter’s eyes definitely dropped to stare at his lips and the engineer inhaled sharply.

“Peter –“

“Ah, there you are.” Norman appeared out of thin air and Tony took three steps back, a cool smile on his face. Osborn was accompanied by a gorgeous blonde girl who couldn’t be older than twenty five, she was tall and slender, and looked like a supermodel – and she probably was. “Good evening, Mr. Stark. Pete.”

“Good evening, Mr. Osborn,” Tony answered with a schooled smile, not sure if he was in trouble for giving Peter champagne, but the CEO barely seemed to notice it when he turned to the younger man, who didn’t even bother to answer him.

“How do you like the party so far?” He asked politely, although his gaze was fixed on Peter. His date seemed bored out of her mind, but she eyed Tony with interest and the older man had to avert his gaze, he really didn’t need yet another sin to avoid.

“It’s great, sir,” Tony answered politely, but the older man didn’t really seem to care.

“Good, good. Do you mind if I borrow Peter for a little while?” He eyed the younger man and Peter grit his teeth, his hand tightening around the champagne flute.

“No, sure, he’s all yours.” He gestured towards the boy and he looked back at him with a look of betrayal on his face. Tony raised his eyebrows, not sure what Peter expected him to do, but the young man rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Come on, Peter, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” And with that, he led the way, confident that the boy would follow behind, which he did, after downing the rest of his drink, shooting one last pleading look Tony’s way. Again, the older man had no idea what he wanted.

Once they left, Tony quickly found Pepper in the crowd as she chatted with Justin Hammer, the biggest asshole to ever exist in the corporate world. He stole all of Tony’s projects when the engineer worked for him, all the weapons the U.S.A. Army used ten years earlier were designed by Tony and he never got any credit for that. Two years after he quit Hammer Industries, they lost that contract because they simply had nothing new to offer.

“Good evening, Mr Hammer, if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna take my date elsewhere, someplace where the toxicity level is more bearable. Bye.” Tony interrupted them unceremoniously and steered Pepper away from him as she threw apologies over her shoulder. “Don’t apologize to him, he’s trash.”

“Tony, you can’t act like this if you wanna be the CEO of the biggest tech company in the country. You need to make connections and keep good relation –“

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that with anyone else, except for him, promise.” He rolled his eyes once they got to the bar, where he leaned on the counter and flirted with the barman, before ordering two drinks.

“Great, then I hope you intend to keep a good relationship with Mr. Osborn,” she whispered, looking around to make sure nobody was listening. “Just a quick reminder: fucking his boyfriend is not very friendly.”

“Peter’s not his boyfriend,” he answered automatically, before taking a sip of his scotch, his eyes scanning the room until he found the younger man in a small circle of people, along with Mr. Osborn and his date. Tony hated that so much, the boy looked devastated but he was still there. Why the fuck was he still there? He didn’t need that shit. “They didn’t even come together today.”

“Okay, not the answer I was looking for, not a reassuring answer at all.” Pepper spoke to herself under her breath, then grabbed him by the jaw, forcing him to look at her. “Tony Stark, I hope you’re not –“

“Jesus, relax!” He snapped, freeing his face from her grip. “You and Natasha are driving me mad with this, I swear to God, the more you tell me not to do it, the more I wanna do it, just out of spite. Leave it alone, will ya?”

“Fine, whatever, do what you want, that always works out perfectly for you,” she snapped right back, taking her drink from the counter and walking away from him. “Don’t come crying to me when it all blows up in your face!”

Tony ignored her, they always had those arguments – she was usually right, Tony usually fucked up somehow and he usually went crying to her anyway, and she always helped him, so whatever. He was slightly tipsy, anyway, he would regret the whole thing in the morning, but right at that moment he was focused on Peter. The young man seemed really uncomfortable and out of place where he stood, among a few businessmen, but he was still there.

Norman stood to his left with his date, talking animatedly with the other men. To Peter’s right, there was a tall, slender man, in his early forties, and he wouldn’t take his eyes off of the boy. Sometimes he would whisper things in his ear, eliciting a small, polite smile from him, but no answer. Some other times he would rest a hand on his waist for no particular reason and Tony would watch with amusement as the boy tried to get away politely. Norman watched the whole interaction discreetly, carefully, but didn’t intervene.

Eventually, Peter excused himself and headed towards the bathroom. Tony watched the other man and, sure enough, he followed him there a few seconds later, under Norman’s intense gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. Tony quickly understood what was probably going on. Again, the older man was disappointed in the boy. Such a smart kid, with so much potential, he could do so much better. Tony turned towards the bar, ordering another scotch. Since he was there, with no date, and nothing else to do, it wouldn’t hurt to have a few drinks.

Several minutes later, he was leaning against the bar, talking to Mr. Zimmer, the CEO of Accutech, and actually scored a meeting for the following week to pitch his nanobots. After his deal with Oscorps, he was able to close two smaller ones and had a few more meetings scheduled. As he imagined, people took notice of Stark Industries after that. Having such a huge, important company such as Oscorps trusting SI meant a lot to potential partners.

As soon as Mr. Zimmer left, Tony saw Peter rushing across the room and out the door. He seemed really upset and agitated, so the older man followed him outside. When he found him again, Peter seemed a little lost. He looked around, as if he didn’t really know which way to go – the gala was held in one of Osborn’s mansions upstate and even leaving the premises was difficult to do without a car, the property was huge. He checked his phone, then, but Tony noticed the screen didn’t light up, it was probably dead. The kid ran his hands through his hair, seemingly desperate, and finally Tony decided to put him out of his misery.

“Hey, kid.” He stepped closer to the boy and he turned quickly, almost as if he was ready to throw a punch or something. “Whoa, there!” Tony held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, examining the boy’s face. He looked distressed, his eyes and face were red and he was a little out of breath. “Hey, are you ok? Do you need a ride home?” His eyes lit up in relief, his face relaxing instantly.

“Would you mind?” He almost pleaded and Tony was a little taken aback by the tone. “It’s just – my phone’s dead and – I just really need to get home.”

“Sure, kid, it’s fine, I was heading home anyway, c’mon.” Tony asked a valet to bring his car around and watched Peter as the younger man seemed to calm down slowly, but he was still acting a little out of sorts as they waited for the car to arrive. “Is everything okay, Peter?”

“Yeah, sure, just a little tired, I guess.” He lied, a fake smile on his face. He was easy to read, most of the time, when he wasn’t trying to attract older, rich men, Tony supposed.

Once the valet brought the car around, Tony opened the door for Peter, who quickly slipped inside like it was an oasis. Tony tipped the valet and joined the younger man, noticing that he seemed almost relieved to be leaving the party.

“Rough night?” Tony asked conversationally once he started the car, pulling away from the driveway. It was a stupid question, but he couldn’t help it.

“Try rough couple of months,” he scoffed, running a hand though his once tamed hair, elbow resting against the window.

“Wanna talk about it?” He looked at the younger man from the corner of his eye and saw him shake his head weakly.

“Not really,” he mumbled and they fell silent. Tony wanted to say something else, but Peter didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk, so he just drove for a few minutes, heading for the city, when the kid spoke up again. “I’m so sorry for the trouble, you can drop me off anywhere, I’ll just take the subway.”

“Don’t be silly, I’ll drive you home. Where is home, by the way?” Tony knew Peter lived with four other students close to campus, but he didn’t know where exactly.

“Harlem.” He sighed, sounding annoyed. “Ugh, that’s the last place I want to be right now,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Why? Trouble with your roommates?” Tony raised a brow and the boy shook his head a little.

“Not really, they’re just really loud, specially on weekends. They probably have people over right now and I’m not in the mood, it’s all.” He gave him a tiny smile, but he didn’t really mean it.

“Tell you what,” Tony started, choosing his next words carefully. “Why don’t you come to my place?” He saw from the corner of his eye when Peter almost broke his neck turning to look at him in surprise. “Just for a few hours, so you can cool down some. We can have a few drinks, grab a bite to eat, and once you’re feeling better, I’ll drive you home. Or you can crash there, whatever you prefer. What do you say?” He turned to look at the young man and his eyes were wide, mouth agape in shock. Tony almost wanted to laugh.

“Uh – I don’t – I don’t want to be a bother, sir, you’ve alre--”

“Don’t be silly, I wouldn’t be offering if it was a bother. You don’t need to say yes if you don’t want to, but if you do, you’ll make this old man very happy, I wouldn’t mind some company tonight.” Tony smiled charmingly at him and Peter blushed, the older man could tell there were a million things going through his head.

“Uhm. Okay. Yeah, sure.” He nodded and Tony’s heart did a little flip in his chest and he didn’t even know why. If he was honest, he had no idea what he was doing or why he was doing it, he just wasn’t ready to let the younger man go.

The rest of the drive was long and mostly silent. Peter was usually very lively and talkative in the lab, he always had some fun fact to share or an anecdote about something that happened in class, but that night he was gloomy and quiet, but he still answered to Tony’s small talk. When they arrived at the older man’s penthouse, Peter was a little nervous, looking around as if he was out of place, looking almost regretful. Tony decided that he hated seeing him like that.

“Hey, wanna see something cool?” He asked as soon as they walked into the living room. The young man turned to look at him curiously, a small smile on his face as he nodded. “Evening, Jarvis. Could you get the windows, please?” As he said that, Peter frowned, then jumped almost a foot in the air when the A.I. answered.

“Good evening, sir, I hope you had a good time at the party.” As he said that, an entire wall of the living room turned from blurred, dark glass to transparent glass, revealing an amazing view of the city skyline. “Good evening, Mr. Parker.”

“What – how – you have an AI here? How does he know who I am?” Peter half whispered, half shouted, apparently undecided if he should be concerned or amazed. Tony laughed and placed a hand on Peter’s lower back, guiding him towards the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“I don’t only have it, I made it. And he’s equipped with an advanced face recognition technology that I designed, in case anyone comes in here with ill intentions. I started working on Jarvis when I was at Hammer Industries, it was supposed to go to the military, but after I resigned, I decided to keep it to myself. Jarvis runs the house and helps me in the lab.” Tony stuck his hands in his pockets and observed as the young man leaned against the window, looking amazed and a little lost.

“So cool!” Peter’s eyes were round and excited, all the gloominess from earlier apparently forgotten. “Can I talk to him? Like, will it acknowledge my voice?”

“Of course, Mr. Parker, why wouldn’t I?”

“Hi, Jarvis!” And just like that, Peter stroke up the silliest conversation with Jarvis, as Tony headed to the kitchen. He decided that since Peter wasn’t really allowed to drink, he’d make them some coffee, and later they could order something to eat. When he went back to the living room, the young man was still leaning against one of the windows as Jarvis tried to convince him that he had no intention of starting a rebellion to wipe out humanity.

“Don’t worry, Jarvis wouldn’t do that,” Tony smiled, placing two mugs on the coffee table and Peter shrugged.

“I wish he would, sometimes I think we failed as a species.” He turned around to face the engineer with a cheeky smile. Fuck, he was so beautiful. “Thank you for everything, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

“You would have figured something out, you’re resourceful. Maybe you would have built a car out of a cardboard box, two paper clips and four potatoes.” He leaned against the window beside Peter and the young man looked up at him with a grin.

“Or maybe I would have found someone to lend me a charger so I could call an Uber?” He bumped Tony’s shoulder with his own and the older man scoffed.

“Yeah, but that would’ve been boring, don’t you think?” He raised a brow with a grave face and the young man laughed.

“You’re right, this is much more fun.” His face was so open, so beautiful, all awkwardness from before completely gone. Tony leaned in to whisper close to his ear.

“It can get better.” He pulled back a little to look at the boy’s face. He looked surprised, eyes wide and lips parted, but he didn’t pull away, he didn’t take a single step back, so Tony took a chance. He placed one hand gently on his cheek, testing his reaction, and Peter’s breath hitched, his gaze dropped to Tony’s lips, but he stood still, breathing rapidly but quietly. That was all the answer he needed.

He buried his hand in those curls he’d been dreaming about for months, as his other arm snaked around his thin waist, pulling him close, no chance of escape. Not that he thought that Peter would try to escape if he could, anyway. Tony felt intoxicated when their lips touched, Peter’s mouth was as soft as it looked, his skin as smooth as he imagined. The younger man melted against him, bodies flush together as Tony’s tongue begged for entrance in his mouth.

He pushed him against the window, once again testing the young man’s reaction to his advances, but Peter was so far gone, he barely seemed to notice they’d changed positions. Tony kissed him deeply, slowly, as his hands made their way around the boy’s hips, thumbs stroking his hipbones over the silk shirt, and he sighed. Tony licked into his mouth, swallowing his little gasps and whimpers, and he could tell that Peter had never been kissed like that before, if the way his legs gave out were any indication. He held him up, though, his body trapped between the older man’s and the cold window.

He felt Peter’s erection already poking his upper thigh and he smiled into the kiss, feeling his own cock start to swell against Peter’s lower stomach. He moaned quietly, pulling away from the kiss for a few seconds to check if the boy was doing okay, but Peter didn’t even open his eyes, he just rocked his hips slowly, rubbing his erection against Tony’s thigh. Feeling confident enough, the older man lowered his hands to his perfect ass, squeezing his cheeks tightly as he pulled him even closer to him. Just as he imagined, it was firm, yet supple, it filled his hands nicely, and Tony didn’t hesitate to lift him a little by the ass, aligning their cocks and pressing both erections together.

“Mr. Stark,” he whimpered, humping against Tony, trying to balance his weight on the tips of his toes as Tony held him up. The older man took advantage of the way he threw his head back, exposing his throat, to make his way down his skin, peppering his long, pale neck with kisses and bites. Peter moaned as he tried to undo Tony’s suit jacket, which he allowed, putting just a little distance between them. He went back to his mouth with another kiss, faster than before, more urgent, before pulling away just a few inches, panting against the kid’s mouth.

“C’mon, babe, let me take you to bed,” he whispered and Peter nodded quickly.

Tony took his hand and led him to his own room, and as soon as they were inside, he pushed Peter against the king sized bed and quickly started working on his shirt, every inch of silky, white skin it revealed made the older man harder. Peter smelt and looked expensive as fuck, his skin was smooth as a baby’s, not a single hair in sight, and it was soft and unmarked, peppered only with a few light brown freckles along the collarbones. His nipples were tiny and light pink, hard from excitement and begging to be bitten.

Tony wanted to eat him up – and out – he always looked good when they were in the lab, in his cute slacks, dress shoes and lab jacket, but that night he looked delicious, like an expensive meal, and Tony was a starving man. He got rid of the shirt, revealing his thin chest and surprisingly defined abs, and he worshiped the exposed skin, covered it with open mouthed, wet kisses and bites until it turned red from the abuse. He wanted to mark him up, leave bruises on him so that at least for a while, Peter could be his.

He took a perked up nipple in his mouth and sucked it mercilessly, as he pinched the other one between his fingers, and Peter gasped, hands flying to grab Tony’s shoulders. He didn’t waste too much time, though, and quickly started undoing his pants, pulling them down his legs. The act revealed even more soft, smooth skin and plump, soft thighs that the older man couldn’t help biting. Peter whined quietly when Tony splayed his open palms on his legs and squeezed, as he sucked bruises on the boy’s inner thighs. His face was so close to his cock, covered only in tight, black boxer briefs, so Tony rubbed his cheek against it and Peter cried out. As soon as he lowered his boxers, Peter’s cock sprung free, and Tony was delighted. It was small and flushed pink, rock hard and already dripping pre-cum. The older man didn’t think twice as he put it all in his mouth, eliciting a scream from the young man.

“Oh, my God, Mr. Stark!” He bucked his hips wildly, his legs falling open, and, for the second time that evening, Tony thought that maybe nobody had ever done that to him. “Oh, God! Fuck!” He kept moaning desperately, as Tony sank his fingers in his ass cheeks, bobbing his head up and down, sucking and licking his shaft and paying extra attention to the head. Peter kept both of his hands beside his body, clenching at the sheets, not daring to touch Tony or demand anything. The second the older man’s fingers touched his balls, he lost it. “Mr. Stark, please, I – Oh, God, oh my God –“ He blushed furiously, Tony noticed when he raised his head and let go of his cock with a loud pop.

His whole face and chest were flushed pink, he held his upper body up, resting on his elbows as he panted, looking thoroughly debauched. His once gelled curls were wild and loose, covering his forehead, and Tony just wanted to ruin him even more. He smirked at the younger man, who seemed completely out of it, barely able to understand what was happening. Tony lifted his legs, pressing his bent knees to his chest and Peter got the idea and held his legs in place, exposing himself beautifully to him.

The older man’s mouth watered as he looked at his quivering, pink hole. It looked so fucking tight and so fucking ready for his cock at the same time, he could see Peter was mortified in that position, but he still held himself open, so eager for what was to come. Tony grabbed his ass cheeks and spread them, burying his face in his crack and licking a stripe up from his tailbone to his balls, only to hear the young man screaming desperately.

Tony was feeling really smug, he didn’t remember the last he made anyone scream like that. He was always a generous lover, he liked giving his partners pleasure, but Peter didn’t seem to be used to it if his reactions were anything to go by, so the older man took even more pleasure in making him feel so good.

“Mr. Stark, I’m gonna – I’m not gonna last, please!” Tony pretended not to hear him, as he kept licking over his rim before he started to try to breach him with his tongue, as Peter cried out, bucking his hips. The older man held him in place and kept trying to fuck his tongue into him, until he felt Peter’s fingers in his hair, pulling him up. “I wanna come with you inside me – please,” he whispered once Tony’s lips were over his mouth, his cock perfectly aligned with the boy’s hole.

He grunted and kissed him again, just as wildly and roughly as he did before. The young man quickly started undoing Tony’s shirt, and only then did he realize that he was still dressed as Peter laid on his bed completely naked. He groaned into the kiss, because fuck, that was hot, but he helped the boy take off his shirt and undershirt.

Peter curled one leg around his waist, kissing Tony back enthusiastically and a little less shyly now that the older was a little undressed as well. He ran his soft hands all over Tony’s broad back, then up his shoulders and into his thick hair, all the while moaning and bucking his hips, begging to be touched. Tony took advantage of the position they were in to slide his fingers in between Peter’s cheeks, feeling his tight entrance twitch, anticipating the touch. He didn’t do much more, though, he just kept kneading his ass, letting his fingertips just slightly brush against his quivering hole.

Peter grew impatient then, and instead of pushing his hips up, against Tony’s own cock, he started pushing then down, against his fingers. The older man chuckled, brushing his chin against the pale neck, already noticing it turning pink with beard burn.

“Mr. Stark, c’mon, please, I--” He mumbled incoherently, holding on for dear life to his shoulders, his breath short, swollen, wet lips parted, his lids heavy. A vision of paradise. “I need--”

Tony knew what he needed, but he wouldn’t give it to him just yet. Still, he let his middle finger wander towards his entrance, feeling his hole clenching, trying to pull it inside, ready to take whatever Tony was willing to give. He grabbed his thighs again, spreading them far apart, making Peter yelp in surprise. He kissed his hole gently one last time, then moved away, getting off the bed.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.” Tony smirked, undoing his pants, and he noticed Peter’s eyes intent on him. As soon as his cock sprung free, the young man whimpered, whispering “fuck” and biting his lips hard. “Like what you see?” Tony asked, cockily, he knew it was a nice view. He was nicely groomed and his cock was cut, long and thick, and at the moment it was rock hard like never before and dripping with pre-cum. He stepped out of his pants and headed towards the night stand before Peter could answer. He grabbed a bottle lube and made his way back to the bed, positioning himself between his legs once again.

He coated his fingers with plenty of lube and breached his entrance with one fingertip, only to hear a long, deep moan coming from the younger man, who clung to his shoulders for dear life. He fucked his finger in and out of him, slowly at first, but quicker as Peter’s hips started moving along with him, begging for more. Tony leaned down and kissed him, and felt one of Peter’s hands in his hair, as he curled both of his legs around the older man’s waist. Tony kept kissing him as he sunk another finger in his hole, eliciting a surprised moan from him, as he tried to adjust to the stretch.

They kept kissing and rocking against each other eagerly, as Tony fucked him open with his fingers, scissoring and curling them, until he couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to be inside him. He drew back just enough to hold his cock, guiding it towards Peter’s entrance. Slowly and unrelentingly, Tony sank his cock inside him, blinded with pleasure as each inch sank further inside. Peter whined in pain but didn’t budge or asked him to stop, he took it like a good boy, holding still, legs spread wide, until Tony bottomed out. When he did, he wrapped his arms around his slight frame, lifting him a little from the bed, and Peter took a deep breath, holding his shoulders.

“That’s it, sweetie, you’re so good for me, I’m gonna make you feel so good.” Tony whispered nonsensically in his ear, kissing his cheeks and neck gently, waiting for him to adjust. They stayed like that for a few seconds, until Peter started rocking his hips slowly, and Tony soon caught on. He grabbed his hips and slammed once inside him, hearing a scream coming from the younger man. He drew back and slowly built up a pace, slamming against him like there was no tomorrow. He moaned loudly, a mixture of pleasure and pain, Tony could tell, but instead of asking him to slow down, he pushed back against him just as hard, biting his neck.

Tony may have lost his mind somewhere along the way, pure instinct took over as he fucked into him with abandon, he heard his screams and moans and they made him hit harder, harder, and he thought he heard the younger man screaming just that, as he sank his nails into his shoulders and down his back, until he grabbed Tony’s ass and pulled him closer, faster, harder –

“Oh – Oh, Mr. Stark – I –“ Peter rolled his eyes back and it took Tony the better part of a minute to realize that he was coming, and he hadn’t even touched his cock. Spurts of his warm, white come covered both of their chests and Tony could feel that some of it caught on his chin. The sight of Peter underneath him – debauched, utterly satisfied, ruined – was enough to bring Tony over the edge, the force of his orgasm was almost blinding, something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He let himself fall on top of Peter, barely aware of the fact that he was maybe a little too heavy for that, but the younger man didn’t seem to mind, if the soft, barely there caresses on his back were anything to go by.

They were silent for several minutes, bodies cooling down and falling asleep, but Tony’s mind was wide awake. What had he done? Peter was supposed to be off limits for a number of reasons, so many he couldn’t even focus on a single one. He felt the young man sigh softly under him, his hands drawing circles on his back peacefully.

“This was nice,” he whispered and it triggered something in Tony, because, fuck, it was perfect. It was perfect, but it was a lie, wasn’t it? Peter wasn’t really into him. He was just – he was just a fucking –

“I really hope this was a free trial, ‘cause I don’t think I can afford you, kid.” The minute the words left his mouth, he felt the younger man go rigid beneath him. He quickly pushed at Tony’s shoulders, trying to raise his upper body and the older man easily rolled off of him to the side, resting his head on his clasped hands on the pillow.

“What are you insinuating?” Peter asked with a frown, suddenly appearing very uncomfortable, gathering the sheets around him to cover his exposed skin.

“I’m not insinuating anything, I’m just saying I don’t think I have enough money to pay for this very expensive meal.” He wiggled his eyebrows, smirking, pretending he wasn’t as affected by what happened as he was. Peter turned bright red, his mouth falling open, gaping like a fish.

“What – I –“ he stammered, frozen for a few seconds before he jumped into action and out of bed, taking the sheets with him as he looked for his clothes around the room. “I can’t believe you just said that, you fucking asshole! Fuck you!” He yelled towards the bed and Tony was a little surprised by his reaction.

“Chill, it was a joke.” He rolled his eyes, noticing that he young man was almost fully dressed by then, at least he had his pants and shirt on, his tie and jacket were draped over his arm as he looked for his shoes. When he turned back to Tony, his whole face was inhumanly red and soaked in tears, it made Tony’s heart clench. “Jesus, kid!”

“I’m not laughing, asshole!” He yelled again, marching towards the door without looking back. “You’re all the fucking same, bunch of assholes, what was I thinking? I’m so fucking stup– ” Tony couldn’t hear the rest of his rant because he slammed the door with so much force that the older man was pretty sure he felt the building shaking a little bit.

Well, fuck.

--*--

Two weeks later, when Tony stepped inside the lab, he had a whole plan figured out. After Peter left that night, he went through all five stages of admitting he had been an asshole – as was common for him, he usually went through those at least a few times a week.

So, first, he denied it.

“The kid is obviously overreacting, right? It was just a joke and, even if it wasn’t, well, I wouldn’t have been that far off from the truth.”

Then, he was angry.

“Fuck that kid, he had no right to react the way he did, who does he think he is, slamming the door like that, yelling at me, calling me names, all because of a stupid little joke? Fuck him.”

Then, he bargained.

“So, okay, maybe I was a little over the line, but I can fix it, right? It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Then he felt a little sad, because, fuck, thinking back to their time together, the kid had never been anything but nice to him, he didn’t deserve that and Tony always fucked up with people, what was wrong with him?

Finally, he fully accepted it. He was definitely, irrevocably and undoubtedly an asshole. They had a nice time together, the kid was the best lay he had in fucking years, and sure, maybe he was with Norman for money or whatever, but what they did, what they shared that night – it felt pretty fucking real and Tony blew it.

So when he walked into the lab two weeks later, he had it all figured out. He would ask Peter to stay a little late, then, when everybody left, he would apologize to him sincerely and since he had a taste for expensive gifts, he even got him a gold bracelet, just as an “I’m sorry I was an asshole” gift, a peace offering.

The thing was, when he walked into the lab, Peter was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Mr. Parker?” He asked the closest lab tech and the young woman shrugged, uninterested.

“He quit a few weeks ago, I heard.” She mumbled, concentrated on the microscope in front of her, and Tony cursed under his breath, feeling even more guilty than before. Had the kid felt so offended that he decided to quit the team? That couldn’t be right, he was Norman’s boy, how would he justify that to him? He wouldn’t tell him about them, would he? Tony figured that if he had told Norman anything, he would have heard about it by then, but everything seemed normal and in order, other than Peter’s absence from the lab.

“He went back to being Mr. Osborn’s intern?” He asked just to clarify, maybe he could go talk to him after he was done in the lab for the day.

“No, he quit Oscorps.” She looked at him like he was asking dumb questions, like everyone should know that piece of information.

Tony did not expect that. His heart raced a little when he heard those words, for some reason. He thought he should be relieved, one less thing to worry about. With Peter gone, he wouldn’t need to worry about apologizing or Norman finding out about them. He didn’t need to worry about things getting weird in the lab or Peter trying to use it against him or something. But he wasn’t relieved. He was – what was he feeling? Whenever he thought about the possibility of not seeing Peter ever again, his heart clenched.

The engineer couldn’t understand what was going on inside him, he just needed to talk to Peter, fucking apologize, get him back on the team, make sure that they would still see each other every month, that they would still talk, and laugh together, and share a workbench so small their hips touched every now and again.

Which was why Tony found himself waiting at the main entrance of Columbia's Morningside Heights campus on Wednesday evening, probably looking suspicious as hell as he swept the crowd, looking for a familiar face. It was a long shot, but he new Peter had classes every afternoon and he knew at what time he was done most days. He guessed the young man would take a train at the subway station on 116th Street, so there he was, looking and waiting.

After almost two hours and no luck, Tony was ready to give up and leave when he saw him walking out, arms full of text books, a heavy looking backpack hanging from one shoulder. He was wearing reading glasses, baggy, ripped jeans, and a graphic t-shirt underneath an oversized gray hoodie and Tony realized he had never seen him like that, he was always well dressed at work and he only ever saw him in other two occasions: his dinner with Norman and at the gala.

Tony thought he looked even more beautiful like that, stripped off of all the fancy things that made him look like an expensive doll. He looked at ease and comfortable and Tony felt a weird desire to hold him. Fucking hold him. Not rip off his clothes and fuck him – well, that too – but to take him into his arms, pull him close and breathe into his his wild curls.

“Hey, Peter,” Tony called out loud enough for him to hear and as soon as his eyes made contact with the older man’s, his face turned red and his eyes widened before he dropped his gaze to the ground, picking up the pace to walk away from Tony. “Hey, hold on, kid, c’mon, I’m talking to you.” The engineer quickly followed, grabbing him by the arm and making him turn around.

“What do you want, what are you doing here?” He asked impatiently, looking around as if afraid to make a scene, there were a lot of people walking in and out of campus at that time.

“You quit Oscorps,” the older man stated, dumbly, and Peter stared at him as if he wanted to say just that. He waited to see if Tony would say anything more and he really meant to, but nothing else came out of his stupid mouth.

“Yeah, and?” He prompted, holding his books close to his chest defensively, getting ready for a fight, but Tony just shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“And now I don’t have any engineers on my team,” he offered, as kind of a joke, he thought, but again, Peter wasn’t laughing.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He rolled his eyes and tried to walk away, but Tony held him back again. “What the hell, don’t touch me!”

“Ok, sorry, I’m sorry.” He let go of his arm and raised both of his hands in a peace offering. “I’m trying to apologize here, I’m not very good at this.”

“Clearly,” Peter snarked, and Tony nodded.

“Right. Ok. I deserve that. Look, let me just –“ He wracked his brain for something to say, he really should have thought it through. The thing was, he thought Peter would be a little more… Compliant. He didn’t expect him to still be that pissed off after almost two weeks. “Let me treat you to dinner, how about that? So we can clear the air?”

“No, thanks,” Peter answered quickly and started to walk away again, heading to the subway station. Since grabbing him and trying to stop him didn’t seem like a good idea, Tony started walking alongside him.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t be so stubborn, I’m just trying to apologize here,” he insisted, attracting Peter’s impatient gaze, as he still tried to balance all the books in his arms.

“You’re forgiven, is that what you wanna hear?” He snapped, and Tony was taken aback by the anger and hurt in his eyes. “There you go. You’re absolved! Goodbye now.” Again, he tried to leave the older man behind, but Tony didn’t let him.

“Hey, kid, don’t be so difficult, I just--”

“Tony!” Weirdly enough, after everything they’d done, that was the first time the younger man called him by his first name and even if the situation was less than ideal, it still sent a shiver down his spine. The boy stopped walking to look at him dead in the eye. “You called me a whore, now you’re asking me to dinner! What am I supposed to think here? I’m not for sale, I’m sorry if I misled you, go bother someone else.”

“Peter, I’m sincerely, honest to God, just trying to apologize here. I know I was an asshole and you didn’t deserve to be treated like that, nobody does, I’m sorry, I was way out of line. I just wanna take you to dinner because I think you’re a good kid, I know you enjoyed working with me and you looked up to me somehow, so I just wanna make it up to you, ok? I promise, nothing else. I just don’t want you to have the wrong impression of me. I’m a good guy, I’m just kind of an asshole sometimes.” Tony tried to convey all his honesty through his eyes, which made Peter deflate a little bit. The young man stared at him for a few seconds with a frown on his forehead, before he sighed, rolling his eyes.

“You’re very annoying,” he said, matter-of-factly, and the older man nodded.

“I’m known to be quite annoying, yeah,” he admitted, putting on his best pleading face, puppy eyes and all. “Let me make it up to you,” he insisted, and Peter rolled his eyes and sighed in resignation.

“Fine, dinner. Not tonight, though, I have work.” Tony cheered on the inside – and a little on the outside – but the younger man kept a straight face.

“Whenever you’re free.” Peter thought for a second and it almost seemed like he was regretting it already.

“Tomorrow, then. You can pick me up here. And I’ll choose the restaurant.” He stuck up his nose, defiantly, and Tony just spread his arms in surrender.

“Fair enough.”

So Tony decided to be a perfect gentleman, he put on a nice suit, he bought some flowers and took the gold “I’m sorry I was a jerk” bracelet with him when he went to pick Peter up. He was sure he would pick the most expensive restaurant in New York as payback and maybe he would order the most expensive things on the menu and, yeah, Tony knew he was really stupid if he were to comply, but, apparently, he wasn’t as smart as he once thought. And apparently he wasn’t immune to cute boys who knew how to play their cards right. So, yeah, maybe he fell right into Peter’s web in the end and maybe he wasn’t too upset about it. He could afford to spend a few dollars on him, have a good meal, smart conversations, and then move on. Because that’s what it was, right? Just him needing closure, if nothing else.

Except, when he parked his car, Peter was standing on the sidewalk in plain blue jeans and a cheap gray sweater and he looked thoroughly amused by Tony’s outfit when he got out of the car to get the door for him. He offered him the flowers and the boy was even more amused, a small chuckle leaving his lips when he read the “I’m sorry I was a jerk” card. Tony decided not to give him the bracelet after all, didn’t seem like a good idea by the looks of it.

“Where do you think we’re going?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, stopping in front of Tony before he got in the car.

“I was thinking a three-star Michellin restaurant?” The older man frowned and the boy snorted, apparently very amused.

“Yeah, and how in the hell would I afford to eat there, Mr. Stark?” He cocked his head to the side with feigned curiosity and Tony frowned.

“Afford? What – no, I’m buying! This is an ‘I’m sorry’ dinner. Besides, I invited you, it’s only polite.” He argued, but the boy quickly shook his head.

“You’ve apologized enough.” He gestured to the flowers. “Besides, I’m sorry, but I’m a little skeptical about gratuitous generosity at the moment, so we’re just gonna get some cheap pizza if that’s ok with you.” He shrugged, pointing in the general direction of the pizza place he was probably planning to go.

“What? Peter, come on. At least –“

“I only agreed to come if you let me choose the restaurant, so it’s either this or I’m heading back home.” He threatened to turn away and Tony jumped to stop him.

“No, no, sorry, you’re right. It’s your pick.” He opened the door to the passenger seat before Peter could change his mind and leave.

They got inside the car and Tony followed the young man’s instructions to the pizza joint, it wasn’t far from campus and was mostly empty when they got there. It was really not the sort of place that Tony went to anymore, but he couldn’t deny that was exactly the kind of restaurant he could afford when he was 19 at MIT. He was still a little confused by Peter’s choice of restaurant, not really sure if it was all a game, a plot to get back at him, but he seemed honest when he said he wanted to pay for his half.

“Maybe lose the jacket? And the tie?” He suggested with an amused smile from beside him when they parked the car and Tony chuckled slightly, doing just that and undoing the first three buttons of his shirt, rolling up the sleeves as well. “Much better.”

When they got inside the restaurant, Peter seemed to know the waiters, they sat at a table in the far back and ordered their drinks. They didn’t even have wine. A pizza place that didn’t serve wine, what even was that madness.

“So, you come here a lot? Everyone seems to know you around here.” Tony tried to start some amicable conversation and, surprisingly, Peter was receptive.

“I used to work here, actually. Before Oscorps.” He smiled fondly as he looked around, like he had some good memories there.

“Oh, cool.” Again, he was surprised by the boy’s story, Tony always assumed that he had an easy life. “Did I – was it because of me? The reason you quit?” He asked with a wince and Peter raised a brow, amused.

“Don’t be so self-important, it had nothing to do with you,” he rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, so Tony thought maybe he wasn’t that mad anymore. He sure seemed a lot calmer than the last time they met. “You’re a jerk, but I’ve dealt with worse.” Tony snorted, he couldn’t even be mad, Peter was just stating facts. He was a little curious to know what led him to quit his job, if it wasn’t Tony, and suddenly remembered how upset he was when they left the party. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to ask, though, they were just getting back on good terms.

“So, what are you doing now that you quit Oscorps?” Tony cocked his head to the side and the boy shrugged, playing with his paper napkin.

“Back to waiting tables and making coffee.” He smiled, he didn’t seem upset by the turn of events, which was… unexpected? It was just so odd. Tony had this idea that Peter liked to live that expensive lifestyle he had with Osborn, wasn’t that the whole point of being with him? His confusion must have shown on his face, because Peter chuckled, furrowing his brow. “What?”

“Nothing, I just –” He shook his head and gave up in the middle of the sentence.

“What, you thought I’d find another rich dude or something?” He creased his brow, looking genuinely confused, not mad. “Wait, do you actually think I’m an escort?” He asked as an afterthought, and Tony could deny it, but he didn’t think he could make it believable anyway.

“Not exactly, but – something like that, yeah,” He admitted, scratching the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed for the first time in a long time, and braced himself for the explosion, but Peter just showed him a sad little smile.

“You thought I was with him for his money,” he stated and Tony winced, because when Peter said it out loud, when those words came out of his mouth, they sounded so wrong. Like they could never be true. “It’s okay, I guess he thought that, too, and so did everyone else. My coworkers, the press, even some of my friends,” he scoffed, folding his napkin in half just to have something to do with his hands. “I guess I’m just a stupid kid who watched way too many Disney princess movies growing up. I blame my aunt, honestly.” He tried to joke and Tony shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have judged you, it wasn’t my place. I just thought it was so odd for a guy like you to be with a guy like him.” Such a beautiful, brilliant, young man like you deserved so much better than him, was what Toy didn’t dare to say.

“I loved him,” he said and it shouldn’t have stung, it shouldn’t have made Tony’s stomach twist and turn, and his heart clench, but it did. It fucking did. “Or I thought I did. Turns out I got it all wrong. I thought we were going somewhere, but he wasn’t really serious about me, which became very clear when he decided not to take me to the gala, so.” He blushed slightly and dropped his eyes to the table, still folding the napkin until it was impossible to keep folding.

“Yeah, but you still came. Why?” Tony insisted, because he really wanted to figure him out, he needed to, because Peter wasn’t who he thought he was, he wasn’t that person Tony was so quick to judge and he needed to know who he was, after all. Because – he just needed to.

“I guess I – I just thought... He would regret it or something, you know. Once he saw me.” He gave a self-deprecatory laugh, rubbing a hand across his forehead as if trying to physically erase something from his mind. “Like… A stupid rom-com or something, you know. Like, the happy ending scene. Whatever. It’s stupid.” He ran a hand through his hair, blushing even harder. “Again, I blame my aunt, she was the one who made me watch all these stupid movies.”

Tony wanted to say it wasn’t his fault that everybody else was fucked up and couldn’t see what an amazing person he was, but the waiter chose that moment to interrupt them with their food, which was good, because Peter perked up and actually looked excited, rubbing his hands together and looking at Tony expectantly.

“Try it, tell me if it’s not the best pizza you’ve ever had in your life.” Tony smiled at his excitement and grabbed a piece of the cheap pizza. As expected, it tasted like garbage, but he wouldn’t tell Peter that, obviously.

“Sorry, kid, it’s not. But I’m forty-five and I’ve been to Italy, so don’t look so bummed.” Peter deflated slightly, grabbing a piece of his own and taking a huge bite out of it, like it was the best meal ever.

“Fine then, the best pizza in New York?” He compromised and Tony was a hundred percent sure it was most definitely not the best pizza in New York, but –

“I’ll give you that.” He conceded and Peter beamed.

“I’ll take it.”

They fell into an easy conversation about engineering and about Peter’s expectations for the future, which ended up turning into a conversation about what Tony did after college. The older man told him about all the steps he took to get where he was, working for other companies, having his ideas stolen, not getting credit for his work, quitting multiple jobs, almost going bankrupt trying to get Stark Industries off the ground and then finally being in a comfortable place in his professional life at 45 – better late than never.

“I think it’s amazing how you managed to turn your life around, you know. It’s really inspiring.” Peter seemed truly moved by Tony’s story, and the older man knew it was quite impressive, but he just shrugged it off.

“Yeah, boo-hoo, but now that you know my sob story, you have to tell me yours.” He took another bite of the terrible pizza and decided that sometime after the third slice, it became almost edible. Key-word: almost.

“Well, there’s not much to say and it’s definitely not as interesting or as successful as yours, but let’s see. My parents died when I was really young, I think I was around four – I’m ashamed to say I don’t really remember them. I still have their pictures, but I just – you know.” Peter shrugged and, yeah, Tony knew. After his mom died, he couldn’t look at pictures of her for years; at the same time that he wanted to remember her, he kind of wanted to forget. “I was raised by my aunt May and uncle Ben, but he was killed in a mugging when I was ten. Fuck, my life story is such a downer, are you sure you wanna hear it?” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, and Tony smiled softly.

“As long as you wanna tell it, kid.” Peter took a deep breath, as if considering if he actually wanted to tell that story, but finally seemed to decide to go on.

“So, my aunt May was a nurse, she struggled to make ends meet, but she was just – amazing, you know? She was like a mother to me, she never left me wanting for anything, specially when it came to my education, which was how I was able to get into college so early. Anyway, she passed away almost two years ago from a stomach cancer. So… It’s just me now. I’m the last Parker standing.” He smiled sadly, dropping his gaze to stare at the slice of uneaten pizza in his plate.

“Fuck, that’s rough, kid. But hey, if it’s any consolation, I’m also the last Stark standing. Maybe we should start a club or something,” he joked to try to lighten up the mood and the young man giggled, looking back at him with a smile.

“Like, the Parker-Stark Lonely Orphans Club?” He asked cheekily and Tony laughed. “Anyway, a year ago I got into Oscorps’s internship program, which was a dream come true, but then I screwed it up by sleeping with the boss, because I’m an idiot. The end.” He snorted and, again, Tony was a little surprised to learn that Peter got the internship before he met Norman, but at that point, it wasn’t much of a shock, he should have seen it coming.

“So, can I ask what happened? Between you and Norman? What made you quit?” Tony asked carefully. As the night went on, he felt like he and Peter were getting more comfortable with each other, more comfortable than they could ever be all those months before, when Tony made such an effort to despise him.

“Ugh, it’s… Well, it’s embarrassing.” It was barely a whisper. Peter’s cheeks were bright red and he wouldn’t meet Tony gaze.

“It’s okay, you don't have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He reassured him, feeling confident enough to place a hand on top of his on the table. Peter stared at them for a few seconds, before looking up at him.

“It’s… Something he did at the party. He kept pushing me to this guy, you know. Some business partner or whatever. And I didn’t quite understand what he was trying to accomplish, but then I went to the bathroom and this guy followed me there and he – he tried – to kiss me. And to touch me.” He blushed, gaze fixed on the table between them once again. Tony tightened his grip on his hand. “When I pushed him away he said something about Norman not knowing how to teach his whores good manners. When I tried to talk to Norman – he said I owed him.” He frowned, lifting his eyes to look at him. “For all the expensive gifts, and nice restaurants, and everything he did for me. He said it was the least I could do.” He scoffed, but his cheeks were pink, like maybe some part of him believed that – believed that while he thought he was dating someone he loved, he was actually whoring himself out to him.

“That’s why you were so upset at the party,” he whispered, realizing what a massive jerk he’d been after that. The kid must have been feeling like shit that day. Used and expendable and lost. And then Tony treated him like a fucking cheap hooker. “Peter… I’m so sorry for that night, I didn’t –“

“It’s okay, I’m fine now. Don’t get me wrong, it was a total dick move, but I already knew you were kind of a dick, so no alarms, no surprises.” He smirked, trying to lighten the mood, but nothing he could say could ever absolve Tony of what he’d done, of the harm he’d caused him that night. Fuck, if he was Peter, he would never have talked to him again, let alone agreed to dinner. His behavior the previous night suddenly made perfect sense. “I quit the next day, put his stupid gifts in a box and sent it to the tower, he can choke on them for all that I care.” He shrugged, trying to appear non-nonchalant, but Tony knew the whole thing must still fucking hurt, it had only been two weeks.

“I sincerely hope he does,” Tony offered and Peter laughed out loud, throwing his head back in delight.

When they walked to the car at the end of the night, Tony could feel that something had changed between them. He felt like all that time he knew Peter he had been missing a huge chunk of information, which made all the difference in the world. He could see Peter now, the real him. The ride to his place was taken in comfortable silence and when Tony parked his car, neither of them moved. The older man turned towards the younger one and licked his lips. He knew the answer to the question he was gonna ask, he knew he deserved it, but still –

“Can I get you number?” It wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was to apologize, show the kid a good time as a way of making it up to him for the terrible things he said and move on. Go back to work, go back to his life, but now – now he was stuck. Looking at Peter and seeing a whole new person. Someone he wanted to get to know more, but knew he didn’t deserve.

“Oh, I don’t know, do you think you can afford it?” Peter teased, and Tony actually blushed, embarrassed to remember how much of a dick he’d been.

“Ugh, I said I was sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand across his face, only to hear Peter’s delighted chuckle.

“I’m just kidding, don’t worry. But I don’t think It’s a good idea, Tony.” He bit his lower lip and Tony nodded to himself, because, yeah, he knew it wasn’t. It shouldn’t be. Because Peter deserved so much better than him. “But this was nice. Thank you for caring enough to apologize.”

“It was the least I could do.” He gave him a small smile and was taken by surprised when the young man unceremoniously leaned in and kissed him. Tony didn’t waste any time burying his hand in his hair, pulling him impossibly close as their lips brushed softly and tongues met in a sweet embrace. The young man pulled away after just a few seconds, though, and Tony didn’t even have the courage to open his eyes and acknowledge it was over. “Are you sure this isn’t a good idea? Because it sure tastes like a great fucking idea. I would know, I have great ideas all the time, ask anyone.” Tony whispered and Peter laughed, his face was still so close the older man could feel his breath on his lips.

“Goodbye, Tony. Good luck with your company,” he smiled, as he opened to door to get out of the car.

“I’ll miss you on my team.” Which was to say, I’ll miss you. Plain and simple.

“I’m sure you’ll find a replacement in no time.” I won’t, I don’t want to. I want you. “Gotta go now, I have work in the morning. Bye!” He got out and closed the door behind him, waving one last time before he walked away.

“Goodbye, Peter,” he whispered to the empty car, hands clutching the steering-wheel as he watched the boy disappear into the building.

--*--

Working at Oscorps was not the same without Peter. First, because he was actually a very good intern who helped a lot with every single task Tony assigned him. Second, because even though he hadn’t noticed it before, he always looked forward to talking to him. To learning those tiny little pieces of information the boy let escape through his lips once in a while, only to blush profusely and apologize seconds later.

Still, he kept going. Norman never bothered him, which was nice, and as the remaining months passed, Tony’s name became more and more recognizable, he closed so many deals over the course of that year, he was able to more than double his team and the office and lab they used to work got way too small for them. He started looking for some other place to go and the more he thought about it, more sense it made to move SI headquarters to California. Most of his partners were there and he would also be closer to his suppliers and many other business opportunities.

So after talking to Pepper, Nat, Rhodey, Happy and Bruce – “the original six”, as they liked to call themselves, including Tony –, he decided to move right after his contract with Oscorps was done in December. Those last few months were crazy and got crazier when B.A.R.F. was finally announced to the public. Both the product and the technology behind it sent Stark Industries to a whole other level, their stocks skyrocketed and Tony literately became the richest man in New York overnight, even richer than Norman – and that was saying something.

Which was why, when December rolled around and Osborn invited him to dinner to discuss the possibility of renewing the contract and he showed up with some supermodel hanging off his arm, he couldn’t help but think of the first time he was in that same situation. He remembered how nervous he was before the dinner, how excited he felt when they closed the deal and how gorgeous Peter looked that night. But he remembered, specially, what Osborn did to the younger man months after that. How he’d treated him, what he’d said to him.

“So, what do you say, Stark? Wanna be partners for five more years?” Osborn’s smile was kind of creepy, he hadn’t noticed it before. He offered him a hand and Tony stared at it for what felt like hours, although it was probably only a few seconds. It was great fucking deal, way better than the one he had before, but –

“You know what, Norman?” He smiled to himself and took a deep breath, wishing he was wearing his smart glasses so he could record his reaction. “Fuck you.” He beamed, standing up from his chair, admiring the expression of shock and horror on the older man’s face. He buttoned his suit jacket and, still smiling like a madman, left the restaurant like he owned the place – which he could, if he wanted.

On his last night in New York, he decided to look for Peter. He didn’t want to pressure him or anything, but they hadn’t seen each other in almost six months, so maybe something might have changed for him. Tony still couldn’t get him out of his head, each day that passed he wished he’d done things differently, so fucking differently.

He wished he’d been nicer, from day one. He wished he had lived up to his expectations, his hero worship. He wished he could have been a decent human being, a shoulder to cry on that night he was so vulnerable and broken. He wished he could have wooed him and gotten him to fall in love with him, the way he’d fallen for him.

He wanted a second chance, he really did, but when he knocked on the door of the apartment the boy used to live, the place where Tony had said goodbye to him all those months ago, some stoned college kid answered the door. When he asked about Peter, the boy just shrugged.

“He moved away a while ago, dude. Got a job somewhere or something.”

So that was it. Tony didn’t have his number and Peter wasn’t on social media – at least Jarvis couldn’t find him, and he sure as hell looked. So he gathered the last of his stuff and left New York for good, mind wandering to those few moments he’d spent with Peter, thinking how different things could have been if he hadn’t been so quick to judge.

No point crying over spilled milk.

Stark Industries flourished in L.A. All of Tony’s crazy, genius ideas were funded, so he finally finished his arc reactor project – something he’d started as a teen, but didn’t have the resources to continue – and started a line of electronics – computers, cellphones, tablets, all the good stuff. After the first couple of months, he bought a mansion in Malibu, just because he could, and finally felt like his life was heading in the right direction.

Still, it felt like there was a Peter-shaped whole in it, which was insane, they’d only known each other for a little over five months, it made no sense how much he missed him, they hadn’t seen each other in almost a year, and still there were nights he could fucking smell Peter’s scent on his sheets – sheets he’d never even laid on. Could feel his soft skin under his fingertips as he hugged his pillow close to his chest, the way he wished he’d held him that night when he stormed off, humiliated and hurt. Those nights he couldn’t sleep, could only stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out time travel, just so he could go back and fix things.

Once he was settled in California, he was invited to give lectures in universities all over the country. MIT was first, then NYU, Stanford, Yale, UCLA and, finally, Caltech in late November. His lectures were usually about the arc reactor, clean energy was in fashion, everybody was talking about it, and the fact that he figured out cold nuclear fusion was still a very hot topic.

It was still early in the evening when he finished his lecture at Caltech, a few students stayed behind to ask him questions or just talk for a bit, Tony had become sort of a celebrity for nerds, and he didn’t mind staying a little late talking to those starry-eyed kids, so it was already dark out when he was done. When he thought he was alone, he started gathering his things, thinking of somewhere he could eat in Pasadena before he headed back to Malibu, when he heard it. That sweet, unmistakable voice.

“That was a hell of a lecture.” Tony turned around slowly, almost afraid to be wrong, but there was no way he’d be. Peter was there, staring back at him, standing by the door with his arms crossed over his chest and a slight blush on his cheeks. “Hey. Long time, no see.”

“You ran away from me, kid.” He breathed out, letting his hands fall to his sides, even though they itched to touch, his legs were shaking with desire to run to the younger man, but he stood still, afraid that if he moved, the spell would be broken and he would realize that Peter was just an illusion.

“That’s a big ego you got there if you think I’d make such a dramatic life change just for you, old man.” He stepped into the room slowly, until he was standing right in front of Tony, close enough to touch, but neither of them did. “I’m getting my Masters here. I heard you were coming for a lecture.”

“So you came by to say hi?” Tony cocked his head to the side and Peter chuckled, nodding.

“Yes. Hi.” He perched himself on the desk Tony was using during his lecture and it was the older man’s turn to move to stand in front of him.

“Hi.” He smiled, stepping closer, paying attention to see if the young man was in any way uncomfortable by his actions, but he didn’t even flinch.

“So, I heard you ditched Norman.” He crossed his arms over his chest again, a small smile on his lips.

“I believe my exact words were ‘fuck you’, actually.” That made Peter laugh, throwing his head back and exposing his long throat. “I missed you kid.”

“Couldn’t find an intern to make you coffee and fawn over you while you were at Oscorps?” He jabbed a finger in his chest and Tony caught it in his hand.

“Couldn’t find you. Anywhere. And I looked.” He confessed, not letting go of his hand, not looking away from his eyes. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you and all the things I didn’t say.”

“Such as?” Peter asked coyly, biting his lower lip as he looked at Tony from under his eyelashes.

“I’ll miss you. Don’t go. Give me a chance. I’ll make this work. I’m in love with you. Things like that, you know.” He didn’t care that he was putting his heart on the line, he couldn’t choke on those words anymore, and if that was the last chance he ever got to say them, at least he could sleep peacefully at night. Peter blushed deeply, lips parted in shock, but then his face stretched in a slow, lazy smile, eyes focused on Tony’s.

“Can I buy you coffee?” He asked quietly, blinking slowly, and the older man shrugged, pretending to consider it.

“Depends. Can I buy you dinner? And don’t you dare ask if I can afford it.” He closed the distance between them as Peter laughed out loud, head thrown back in delight.

“I was just gonna say yes,” he promised, as he placed his hands on Tony’s shoulders, allowing him to come stand in between his legs. “Which is something I regretted not saying.” He confessed. “So, coffee first?”

“Yeah, coffee first.” Tony leaned down to kiss his lips, and they tasted so familiar, so right, and he knew it was crazy, because they shouldn’t, they were together for such a short time and Tony wasn’t a fucking teenager, he was a grown man, and he didn’t know how in the fuck he fell in love so hard and so fast, but he did. “It’s so good to see you.” He stole yet another kiss from him and felt the younger man’s lips stretching in a smile under his. Suddenly, he was reminded of a conversation they’d had over a year earlier. “So, do you think this is the happy ending scene in our movie or what?” He asked a beaming Peter, who pretended to examine his face carefully, before answering with a grin.

“I guess we’ll see.”

#starker #ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #sugar baby au

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