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macfrog · 11 months

Note

Good Morning Lovely, I hope you have a great Sunday! I was wondering if you could possibly write boyfriend's dad! Joel x female reader where your boyfriend was caught cheating on you but you go to his dad's house and found comfort in him. 💗

guest of honor

yep yep yep bfd!joel is something i have never written before but i would love to write more. thank u sm for this request!!! i hope you enjoy 🙏

pairing: bfd!joel x fem!reader

summary: mr. miller didn't raise his son to be a cheat. so when he turns out that way, his dad decides to make it up to you.

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap everybody), fingering, dom!joel, praise kink, joel being protective, age gap (reader is early 20s/college age, joel late 40s), cursing, alcohol consumption, cheating

word count: 4k

Three days. It’s been three days.

Three days since you last saw him, arm waving out of the car window as he drove off after dropping you back home. You’d gone to crazy golf. He’d text you that night to say goodnight, and text you first thing the morning after to wish you a good day, and then…nothing.

Radio silence.

Your boyfriend wasn’t the best at communicating, this was true. But three fucking days? Something was weird.

You: Hey, I was gonna swing by later if you’re around?

You: Everything ok?

You: Hello????

You: Getting kinda worried now

When your third call goes straight to voicemail, you decide to head over and see what’s up.

Your car squeaks to a halt outside his house. Both his car and his dad’s truck are parked in the driveway, and you glance in his driver’s window as you pass. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Nobody answers when you ring the doorbell, so you slowly turn the handle and let yourself in, closing the door quietly behind.

You call out his name. Nothing.

Leaning to glance down the hallway, you notice the sliding door in the kitchen open, the silhouette of his dad sat on a lounge chair out back.

You head upstairs slowly; maybe he’s sleeping, or at his desk with his headphones on.

The top stair creaks when you step on it, and you pause, hearing movement on your left. From your boyfriend’s bedroom.

You say his name, and the noise stops dead.

“What the f…” you whisper to yourself, wandering over to the door. “Are you in here…?”

You push the handle and the door slowly swings open. The curtains are closed, it’s dull. You can only just make out the discarded articles of clothing strewn all over the carpet, leading to the foot of the bed, on which…

“Oh, fu–”

Your boyfriend jumps up, stark naked, some girl clutching the bedsheets to her chest. Your breathing falters as he reaches for his underwear.

“What the fuck?” you yell, backing away from the door. He holds a hand out to stop you.

“This isn’t…No, hey, come back!”

Spinning on your heel, you rattle back down the stairs, vision blurring with the tears rapidly bubbling. You reach the bottom of the stairs and steady yourself on the handrail, before making off for the front door.

“Hey, hey.” A strong arm suddenly links around yours as you flurry by, having heard all the commotion. “What’s goin’ on, darlin’?”

Mr. Miller turns you and takes the back of your head in his rough hand, gently tilting your face up to look at him. When he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks, his jaw tightens, brows furrowing, and he yells upstairs for your boyfriend.

“Get – the fuck – out here. Now!”

The bedroom door opens, you hear shuffling, and the figure of your boyfriend, still in his underwear, materializes on the landing.

Mr. Miller’s hand hasn’t left yours as he turns to look up at his son, and you cower behind his broad shoulders.

“What the fuck is goin’ on? You got someone else up there?”

“Dad, it’s–”

“Don’t you fuckin’ lie! I heard you come in with someone. You tellin’ me you’re cheatin’ on your girlfriend in my house?”

Your boyfriend’s shoulders drop and he glances back toward his room. “I…It was a mistake.”

“Get her out. Both of y’all. Get!” he roars, thumb pointing over his shoulder.

When his son’s scrawny form wobbles back to his bedroom, Mr. Miller gives you a half glance over his shoulder and his hand squeezes yours. He leads you down the hallway without a word, taking you to the kitchen, where he pulls a barstool out for you to sit on.

“Water?” he asks.

You don’t reply. He understands.

He closes the fridge. “Whiskey.”

As he’s pouring two glasses, the pale face of your boyfriend leans around the doorframe.

“Listen, I…”

“Didn’t I tell you to leave? You, too!” he yells down the hall, and a pair of footsteps scuttle off. “If you ain’t out that door in the next ten seconds, you’re gonna know all about it, son.”

With that, his head and shoulders disappear, and you listen as the front door opens and slams shut again.

Mr. Miller slides your whiskey over the counter to you and downs half of his in one swig.

“Damn boy,” he mutters, licking his lips. “Don’t know what’s gotten into ‘im. He always this much of an asshole?”

You shrug, still staring at your glass.

The truth is he didn’t seem like an asshole when you met him. He was confident, and smart, and funny. He had a crowd of boys around him anywhere he went, and you liked the attention y’all got whenever you were with him. Liked being on his arm. Liked being kissed by him in a bar full of people.

Was there anything there, between you guys? Past what other people saw? Not so much. He liked video games, and football, and cars. You liked watching and waiting for him to quit playing so you could hang out, weren’t so much into football, and liked his car, only when he’d take you out in it.

Sex was…uneventful. Little foreplay, little payday for you. Most times it was five or so minutes of grunting, a pause inside you while he filled the condom, and then a heaving sigh as he tumbled off from on top of you to lie beside you in a sweaty mess and pull out his phone. He liked watching gameplay videos on YouTube once he’d finished.

So, all in all, not an asshole, per se. He was always decent to you, always made sure you got home safe and held your hand in public.

The issue was he wasn’t not an asshole, either. He was perfectly lukewarm. Right in the middle.

Fuckin’ boring.

This is the first real asshole thing he’s done. The first step in either direction of extremity – first leap, really.

Realistically, it’s a bit of relief. Wow, you do have a personality after all. Just sucks that this was what he’d chosen to do with it.

It stings. You feel your cheeks heat as they flush with embarrassment, the memory of you pushing that door open replaying over and over in your head. You need a sedative, something to make you forget what just happened.

“Hey,” Mr. Miller says again, thumb holding your chin. “You okay?”

You lean into his touch. “Not really. It’s…whatever. He can do what he wants.”

He’s quiet. His eyes track your lips as you speak, and when you finish, he looks back up into your eyes.

“He don’t deserve a girl like you,” he whispers.

You smile a little, tilting your head and looking up at him.

“I’m gonna make you feel better. Make it up to ya for raisin’ him. How’s that sound?” Mr. Miller leans back and sets his glass down, clapping his hands. “Want some food?”

You giggle, brows furrowing. “Food?”

“I’m starvin’. Was waitin’ for you comin’ over so we could have dinner. Didn’t know that was goin’ on, but…”

“Food sounds good,” you say, cutting off the end of his sentence. “Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

He shakes his head, brows knitted together, and insists, “Joel, baby. Call me Joel.”

Joel rustles up some burgers, insists that you stay put in your stool and don’t move a muscle as he cooks.

“Guest of honor,” he tells you, “your job is to sit there, look pretty, and let me do all the work.”

You oblige, making polite conversation and accepting when he pours you another glass of whiskey. Y’all talk about plenty, from work, to college, to whose food is best out of Tess’s Steakhouse or the Southwestern Grill.

“I’m tellin’ you,” Joel mutters, tossing a handful of fries in his mouth, “I’d give ‘em both a run for their money.”

“Alright, but you’d be a threat to Southwestern quicker than you would to Tess’s.”

“See, now we gotta go to both to really compare ‘em,” Joel says, and you swear you notice your heart skip a beat.

You hesitate on your answer, watching him carefully. He’s leaning a little toward you, licking the salt from his fingers.

“Maybe we should,” you finally reply, cocking an eyebrow.

Joel smirks and stands up, taking your plate on top of his.

“Let me help with the dishes,” you say, and he shakes his head in response.

“No, darlin’,” he protests, holding a hand out as you follow him to the sink. “I’m hostin’ ya, I’ll get ‘em.”

“C’mon,” you say, lining up beside him, your shoulder meeting the middle of his bicep. “I don’t wanna just sit letting you do all the work all night. Let me help.”

He gives in and hands you a towel, before plunging your plates into the hot soapy water, and handing them to you to dry.

“Just throw ‘em on the rack,” he murmurs, “can put ‘em away later.”’

You can feel the heat radiating off of him just standing next to him. The sleeve of his flannel brushes off of your bare skin as you work, making your shoulders tense. Joel’s rigid too, facing forward at all times, staring out of the window instead of meeting your sneaking glances.

You pile the last plate onto the rack and turn to face him.

“I’m gonna…run upstairs and just grab a few of my things before I go,” you tell Joel, and he nods as you head out of the kitchen.

Your boyfriend’s bedroom is still dark, curtains blowing in the gentle breeze, sporadically letting sunlight in like your unsteady breaths. You open your bag, blindly lifting anything you’ve left here during visits. A lipstick, a hairbrush, a teddy bear you got him from vacation last summer.

When you’ve scanned the whole room, you turn to head out and notice a familiar silhouette in the doorway.

“What a fuckin’ mess,” Joel mutters, and you laugh as you make your way over.

He’s stood in the doorway, so you turn and squeeze by him, back to his chest. His hands come to rest on your hips as you pass, and your breath catches when you feel them squeeze.

Joel shuts the door and shakes his head. “It’s like he’s twelve years old.”

“Nah, that’s unfair. To twelve-year-olds.”

He scoffs. A pause. Then, “You sure you’re alright, baby?”

You lean back against the wall, bag hanging from your crossed arms.

“I’m good. Thank you again for dinner. You really took my mind off of…everything.” Your eyes flit to the door behind him.

Joel takes a step closer to you, hands stuffed in his jean pockets, and your heart quickens.

“Just wanted to make you feel better,” he breathes.

You can feel the blood pumping around your body like tidal waves circulating through you. Your breath falters, chest rising and falling quicker, and you feel something flutter between your legs.

You glance up and down the hallway. Whatever comes over you, the whiskey, or something more, you’re not entirely sure, but it makes you step away from the beige wall and close the space between you both even more.

“One of these doors yours?” You nod up the hallway, and Joel’s gaze instantly clouds over.

His eyebrows flinch, eyes flicker across your body just for a second, and he nods. Slowly.

“At the end.”

“Hm,” you muse, pushing your bottom lip out and wandering down the hall.

You have no idea what the fuck you’re doing, but Joel’s at your heels, following you toward his door. When you nudge it open, you turn, back to the door, and fall in.

His room is painted a dark grey, bed sheets to match. There’s not much in the way of furniture, a dresser over to the left, right by what you assume is the bathroom, and another over on the right under the window. A mirror stands by the open closet door, and a TV hangs from the wall beside the door, over your right shoulder.

Plain. Simple. Classic Joel.

You take a few steps inside, and turn, looking back at Joel, who’s leaning against his doorframe, watching you.

“Never been in here, have you?”

You shake your head. “’s what I expected.”

He laughs. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. Looks like your room.”

Joel’s eyes dance over your face, your neck, along your shoulders, and down to your chest. He looks back up to meet your gaze and your eyebrows lift.

“Just one thing missin’ from it…” he grumbles, slowly walking over to you.

You feel the ache that’s been growing between your legs suddenly intensify. You clench your thighs.

Joel lifts his hand, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger.

“…you.”

You’re panting now, arms dropped to your side. Your bag falls from your loose grip when he takes hold of your shoulders and runs his hands down to your waist. Rough hands pulling you into him, against him, where you feel the swell in his pants.

“Joel…” you whisper.

“Hm?” he asks, chin lifting.

“Want you to…” Your throat holds onto the rest of the sentence.

He cups your face with his hand, tilting it up toward him. “Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me. In here.”

“Yeah?” he asks, starting to walk you backward to the bed. “You want me to take care of you, baby?”

“Mhm.”

He pushes you back onto the mattress, his smell all over the sheets. And then, he leans down, his body all over you.

He takes your wrists and pins them above your head, thigh between your legs.

“Gonna show you what it feels like to be fucked by a real man,” he growls, head dipping to kiss along your neck. “Gonna make you feel real good, pretty girl.”

You buck your hips and he laughs into your skin, teeth grazing against your throat.

“So desperate,” he purrs, shoving you further up the mattress.

He leans back, taking the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your body, exposing your bare chest underneath. You lay back and watch his eyes, heavy with lust as they scan over you, and you feel yourself wetter and wetter against his thigh.

“So pretty for me, sweet girl.”

His fingers find the waistband of your skirt and he hauls it down your legs, discarding it on the floor. You’re in just your panties now, laying sprawled out on your boyfriend’s father’s bed, soaked through, desperate to be fucked.

Joel’s hand cups around your sex, feeling how wet you are for him already. He slides your panties to the side and draws a lazy finger through your folds, coming to rest on your clit, where he circles around your sensitive bud.

Your back lifts, hands coming down to lock around his wrist. Urging him to keep doing it, but begging him to do something more.

His thumb stays on your clit, two middle fingers dipping to your cunt below. Your hands resume position above your head and you bring your knees up either side of you, allowing him access to your core.

Joel inserts his fingers inside you, and you bite back a scream. He curls them, hitting the spongey walls of your cunt, stretching you out good.

You’re breathing his name, chest rising and falling in time with his wrist pumping, before he pulls his hand from your core and you watch as he pushes his fingers between his lips, sucking on you.

He lets them go with a pop. “Sweet as honey, baby,” he coos, and a filthy grin paints across your lips.

“Alright,” Joel murmurs, taking hold of your waist.

He flips you over in one fluid motion, and with both hands on your hips, hoists your ass up in the air. His finger hooks under the band of your panties and pulls, releasing it with a snap back against your waist. You whine, face buried in his sheets.

Joel’s hands trail from the back of your knees upward, toward your aching cunt, where he massages the insides of your thighs, drawing desperate moans from you.

You hear the clink of his belt buckle, the sound of it sliding out of his pants and the thud when it hits the floor at his feet. The undeniable sound of his zipper being tugged down, and the ruffle of denim being shoved halfway down his thighs.

He presses his cotton-covered bulge against your lace-covered pussy, letting your slick rut all over his boxers.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and brings a hand down onto your ass. You jerk forward, moaning.

“Joel,” you whine, “just fucking do it. Fuck me, please.”

His hips pull away from yours only long enough for him to drag his boxers down before they’re right back against you, cock sifting through your soaked folds.

He groans as his length glides along your slit, gathering your slick all over his tip.

“You ready, baby?” he asks in a hoarse voice, breath stammering already.

“Mhm,” you breathe, almost shoving your hips back into his just to feel him.

He eases his thick head in first, and you feel yourself already stretching around him. You gasp, the feeling almost searing, before he pulls all the way out and strokes himself a couple times.

“So fuckin’ wet, darlin’. So good for me.”

When his shaft is coated in your juices, he pushes in again, this time not stopping. He goes slowly, allowing you to adjust to him, your back arching, chest pushing further into the mattress the deeper his cock reaches.

When you feel his balls against your clit, your hips connected once again, you exhale deeply.

“Fuck…” you whisper, and you hear him breathe a laugh. “You’re so…fucking…big.”

“Yeah? Aw, baby girl. You got no clue what you’ve been missing.”

His cock drags out of you, and, despite the intense pressure, you whine when he leaves. His tip still between your folds, he instantly pushes back in, getting faster and rougher with each thrust.

Joel places a hand on the small of your back to steady himself as he reaches a fast, punishing pace, fucking you like it’s all he ever wanted to do. His hips snap against yours, your thighs beginning to burn from the position. You feel a heat dripping from your belly to your cunt, swirling around, coil reeling.

“He ever fuck you like this?”

“N-no,” you whine, fingers gripping Joel’s bedsheets. The pressure between your legs is almost painful, his huge cock fucking into you so hard your mind runs blank, the only thought Joel, the only feeling…Joel.

“No,” he repeats, slamming his hips into your ass harder. “Need a real fuckin’ cock to make you feel good, treat that little pussy how it deserves.”

You’re listening to the words he’s saying, but not really hearing them. Your mind is blank, overcome by the feeling of his length fucking in and out of you; the perfect pain when his tip hits the edge of your cunt, the stretch of his thick cock, his balls slapping against your core when he bottoms out.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan, squeezing the sheets until your knuckles whiten. “Wanna cum all over you.”

Joel groans, his head falling back at the sound of your whimpers. “Gonna make you cum, baby, make you cum real good. He ever make you cum?”

You shake your head. “Never.”

“Poor baby,” he tuts. “Never been able to cum for him, have you?”

You can’t answer him a second time. In your silence, you feel his hands on your shoulders, dick still thrusting in and out of you, and he pulls you up to his body, flush against his chest.

His arms snake around you, one around your waist and the other drawing circles around your swollen clit. You lean your head against his shoulder, hooking your left arm around his neck.

“Feel good, baby?”

“Uhuh,” you moan, turning to look at him.

Joel turns to face you and his jaw lowers, lips finding yours in a wet, messy kiss. You moan into his mouth as his fingers drill into your clit.

“Gonna…cum…all over…you,” you whimper, and he nods.

“Let me feel you, darlin’.”

You begin to slip in his grasp, feeling your cunt tightening around his cock and the heat in your stomach scorching. A few more thrusts and the room goes white, stars crowding your vision as you sob out.

You fall forward back onto the bed, limp with the pleasure between your thighs. Joel keeps the pace up, chasing his own high.

“So – fuckin’ – good for m-me, pretty girl,” he mutters, pounding into you.

You’re a soaked, sweaty, fucked-out mess, you know it. And you fucking love it.

When Joel’s thrusts become staggered, you know he’s close. You don’t move, save for your hands finding a hold of his sheets again, bracing yourself through the overstimulating feeling of him rutting into you over and over again.

He lets out a quiet groan and pulls out, pumping himself a couple times before his warm cum spills all over your back. The sound of his moans and the feeling of him emptying all over you are almost enough to wind that coil again.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes when he’s done, hands holding onto your ass. He gently massages you again, and you groan at the feeling.

“Lemme grab a towel,” he says, and his warmth disappears for a few seconds.

He returns from the bathroom and wipes your back with a soft towel, holding you up by the waist until he’s done, when he lets you go and you collapse onto the bed on your stomach.

“Been waitin’ so fuckin’ long to do that,” Joel pants, falling onto the bed beside you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You close your eyes, thinking back over all the times you’ve been here, the nights you’ve stayed over, when Joel’s in the house. Thinking of how he might’ve been looking at you, the thoughts running through his head. Knowing you were in his son’s room, knowing you were doing stuff with him that Joel wanted to be doing to you.

It fills you with equal parts longing and fucking arousal.

You both lay in a panting, sweating state of bliss for a while, eyes tracing down each other’s bodies.

Your hand crosses over to lace through Joel’s on his chest, and he smiles softly at you.

“Good?” he asks quietly.

You nod, eyes closing over in your exhausted state. “Good,” you whisper.

He nods reassuringly and squeezes your hand.

The moment – is it even a moment? – is cut short by the sound of a car pulling into the drive. The door slams shut and footsteps trail to Joel’s front door, which opens with a call of, “Dad?”

He sits up, coolly, almost unbothered, and taps you on the shoulder, before getting off the bed and opening his door.

He wanders out into the hall, to the top of the stairs, and you push yourself off of his bed, legs burning, and start getting changed.

“Yeah?” you hear Joel call.

Your boyfriend asks if you’re still here. “Her car’s in the drive.”

“She’s just grabbin’ her things. Made her dinner, made sure she was alright, since you were a fuckin’ dirtbag.”

You hear your boyfriend sigh as you slip back into your sneakers and leave Joel’s bedroom. He doesn’t move, doesn’t turn, but holds a hand out behind his back, and you freeze.

“Do me a favour ‘n put the dishes on the rack back, would ya?” he calls down to his son.

You hear him walk through to the kitchen, and Joel turns to you. He nods once down the stairs, and you sneak past him, his hand on the small of your back.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, your fingers around the handle, you turn back. Your boyfriend’s stood in the kitchen; eyes locked on you.

Slipping out the door, you nod to Joel.

“Thanks again, Mr. Miller.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #bd!joel #bd!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #boyfriend's dad!joel #boyfriend's dad!joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #bfd!joel #bfd!joel miller #requested

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sturnsbaebackup · 5 months

Text

SHY - M. STURNIOLO

summary: madi invites you to meet and hang out with the triplets at top golf, and you find yourself oddly nervous around matt.

warnings: fluff fluff fluff

part 1 | part 2

—

“please just come with me? i promise they’re nice guys,” madi begs you.

“i guess i’ll go… but you owe me big time madi,” you groan through the facetime call.

a smile grows on her face, “yay! thank you! you’re the best! the triplets are gonna pick me up at 12:30, and then i’ll have them pick you up after me. so expect us at around 12:45, okay?”

you sigh, “okay, perfect.”

“thank you again, y/n. i promise you won’t regret it,” she says and she hangs up to go get ready. you look at the clock and see that it’s 10:30, giving you about two hours to get ready. even if you don’t need that much time to get ready, you’d rather look your best than your worst. after curating the best outfit you can, you finish your makeup and hair, making sure you look halfway decent. it’s now about 12 and you take the next 45 minutes to mentally prepare yourself, seeing as you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of them.

your phone buzzes, grabbing your attention to madi’s contact on the screen letting you know they’re outside. you huff and grab your house keys and wallet, locking the door behind you as you exit. as you approach the car, you see two brunette boys in the front staring at their phone screens.

thankfully madi opens the door for you from the inside, drawing the attention of all three boys. “hi y/n! guys this is y/n, my favorite person ever so of course i wanted you guys to meet her,” madi smiles, making you roll your eyes playfully.

“hi y/n! i’m nick,” nick smiles sweetly, immediately making you feel a little less nervous.

“hi nick! it’s really nice to meet you, and i love your hair,” you smile. immediately chris turns around in his seat to look at you, “and im chris, the best triplet don’t let them fool you,” he smiles, giving you a little head nod.

you chuckle slightly, “well it’s nice to meet you chris,” you say. lastly, matt turns his head to the right to look at chris smacking his shoulder for what he said. he then turns his head a little bit further to face you.

“and i’m matt, the only triplet who actually has their head screwed on,” he smiles at you. you let out a laugh, “well, it’s really nice to meet you matt,” you say. as he turns his head to face the front of the car you blush little, hoping to god that he didn’t see.

you all drive to top golf, blasting music the whole way there. you gradually feel the nerves leave your body as you quickly notice that they’re a very welcome group of people. but the one thing that won’t go away is the pit in your stomach every time matt speaks or even looks at you.

“you okay?” madi asks as you walk into top golf.

“yeah i’m actually doing great!” you smile, and she smiles back at you with a big soft grin. you, madi, and nick get caught up in a conversation while matt and chris get everything set up at the front desk. you’re all distracted, when suddenly chris comes over waving in your guys’ faces, basically jumping around with excitement.“come on guys let’s gooo!” he exclaims, dragging out the ‘o.’

you sit down at the table, and chris loudly calls dibs on the first hit. you watch him practice his swings, when suddenly the spot on the couch next to you dips in. you look to your left, and you see matt sitting with his arm around the back of the couch, and his right ankle resting on his left knee. that pit in your stomach appears again, and you quickly look away before he can realize you’re staring at him.

eventually everyone but you has gone, and you suddenly feel really nervous. “okay y/n, your turn!” chris exclaims.

“oh god, this is gonna be awful. i’ve never golfed before,” you nervously chuckle. you have a bad habit of playing with your fingers and jewelry when you’re nervous, and apparently its evident that you‘re doing that because matt seems to notice.

“here, i’ll help you,” he smiles, sticking his hand out to help you off of the couch. you gently take his hand, praying your hands aren’t clammy with nervous sweat. as you stand on the little faux grass, he stands a respectful distance behind you and places your hands in the right positions on the club. he then puts his hands not too far under yours, and you can feel your heart beating out of your chest. it’s beating so loudly in your ears that you assume matt can hear it too.

as matt tells you how to swing the club, you notice madi and nick giggling to themselves, with chris sitting next to them oblivious to their antics. you already know madi and nick are gonna hold this against both you and matt.

you both swing the club in unison, hitting the ball far across the green. you gasp, and immediately turn around to give matt a high five. as your hands touch, you can feel that pit coming back again. your cheeks are on fire and you know everyone can see it, so you immediately sit down next to madi who gives you a big, sneaky grin.

after another hour of golfing, which consisted of you trying to avoid matt at all costs, it begins to get dark out. “do you guys want to get dinner somewhere before we drop you guys off?” nick asks.

“sure! is that good with you guys?” matt asks, looking at you and madi. you both look at each other and nod, turning back to matt with smiles.

“oh fuck yes, thank god! i’m starving!” chris blurts out, making everyone let out a little laugh. you all drive to the closest in n out, and you and madi sit next to each other at the booth while chris waits at the counter for the food.

“we’ll get you guys your drinks. what do you guys want?” nick asks, gesturing to him and matt.

“i’ll take a sprite please,” you smile, sliding your cup to the end of the table. matt grabs it, seeing as nick already took madi’s cup.

“one sprite coming right up!” matt smiles at you, making you blush. “thanks matt,” you smile, biting your cheeks nervously. nick gives a look to madi, but you just ignore it. as nick walks away, immediately madi turns to you and starts shaking your shoulders. “oh my god! you and matt are so flirty!”

a lump begins to form in your throat, “w-what? what are you talking about?”

“oh don’t play stupid. it’s obvious that you’re both into each other! i mean the matt i know would never offer to help someone golf, or even get fill up their drink for them!” madi exclaims, watching closely to make sure the guys aren’t coming back.

“i- w- what?” you say, utterly at a loss for words. quickly madi shushes you, and turns back to face the boys. matt slides you your drink, and you thank him as he gets into the booth on the opposite side of you and madi.

nick sits next to you, leaving chris and open spot next to matt. eventually he brings the tray of food over and you all begin to dig in, sharing a couple of large fries as well. “oh y/n! can i get your insta? i had a lot of fun today,” nick blurts out with a smile, sliding his phone to you.

“oh yeah, can i have it too?” matt asks, making you bite your cheeks and nod as you look down at nicks phone.

“jeez guys, you’re making me feel so popular!” you joke, following yourself from nicks phone.

“well, you’re actually a really fun person, unlike madi. even if you’re god awful at golfing,” chris jokes. madi just flips him off and he and nick laugh.

“chris be nice! i think y/n is a pretty decent golfer,” matt says hitting chris’ arm. and once again, your cheeks flare up with heat.

“no no, he has a point,” you laugh, typing your insta into matt’s phone as you speak. as you do so, madi nudges your leg under the table making you squirm a little, but thankfully it goes unnoticed by everyone. after all three of them get your insta, you all clean up the table and head back into the car.

you and madi decided to spend the night at madi’s house to make it easier for the triplets to drop you guys off. as you and madi walk up her walkway, matt leans over chris and rolls down the passenger window, “bye guys! it was really nice to meet you y/n!”

“it was nice to meet you guys too!” you smile, waving them off as they drive away.

“see! i told you he’s into you, y/n!” madi winks, making you roll yours eyes.

“yeah yeah, whatever,” you laugh, laying down on madi’s bed. as you scroll through insta, you get a dm from nick.

hey y/n! we had a lot of fun today, and we were wondering if you and madi wanted to be in a video next week? you totally don’t have to if you don’t want to, but i know that we’d all love to see you again!

of course you show madi the dm, and that sneaky grin from before appears on her face again. “say yes! say yes!” she says, practically jumping around her room.

“what the hell is that smirk on your face for?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at her.

“what smirk?” she plays dumb, holding back her laughter.

“that one! you’re doing it again! i swear to god madi! you better tell me what the hell is going on, or else i’m gonna seriously slap you!” you exclaim.

“fine! fine! but i’ll only tell you if you say yes to nick first,” she shrugs.

“okay…” you oblige, anxious to hear madi’s answer. she watches as you press send, and immediately you throw your phone somewhere on the bed and look her in the eyes. “now tell me what’s going on madi!”

“well… me and nick noticed the obvious connection between you and matt… so we may or may not have set up a plan to try and get you guys to fall in love by hanging out more…” she bashfully admits, making your jaw drop.

“madi filipowicz!” you say, playfully hitting her with one of her pillows.

“well… looks like you’ll be seeing him on tuesday, so no getting out of it now!” she laughs, showing you nicks reply to your dm. you groan and shove your faces into the pillows in an attempt to hide your now rose colored cheeks.

“i hate you madi.”

“mhm, sure you do.”

—

don’t forget to go read part 2!!

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rrxnjun · 1 year

Text

potential • z. chenle

pairing. zhong chenle x fem! reader genre. rich kids au, childhood friends au, friends with benefits au. angst, fluff, suggestive. word count. 20k (20.079) warnings. alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual activity, sexual innuendos, a heavy make out session or two, use of lyrics from ariana grande and sarah close and masking them as my own words a/n. why do we call it a rich kid chenle au when he's a rich kid irl. anyways for the fact that this was one of the most spontaneous fics ive ever written it sure did take a lot of time to execute. took a lot of inspo for the lifestyle from the sky castle kdrama so if its not accurate dont @ me bc ive never been rich LMAO

playlist. in my head – ariana grande ; successful – ariana grande ; nonsense – sabrina carpenter ; supermodel – måneskin ; that's what i like – bruno mars

You saw his potential without seeing credentials. And maybe that's the issue.

August 28, 2020 – somewhere in the Bali sea, 1:27 AM

The music is loud. The weather is humid.

Wrapping up the summer before your senior year, dancing around in the bar of the cruise ship in the middle of the ocean, one last stop before your 28-day cruise around Southeast Asia is over, the loud music from the bar rings in your ears as you dance around, a glass of expensive Mendis coconut Brandy swirling in your hold. The taste of the alcohol on your tongue burns, not quite used to the burning sensation in your mouth– this is one of the first times you’re drinking, since your parents were always big on prestige and acting classy. Your parents went to sleep, though– excited to explore Benoa tomorrow, to immerse themselves in nature and explore Bali’s temples and heritage. You, on the other hand, took this as an opportunity to party– accompanied by none other than your parents’ friend’s son, who grew into the position of your childhood best friend solely because his and your family have always been close, choosing to spend vacations together; a relationship that was mostly fueled by the immediate closeness of you two during the summer breaks and ski trips to Swiss Alps every January.

And while you’re no stranger to pearls, charity events in your parents’ mansion in Hong Kong, golf courses in Miami and fashion shows in Milan, growing up in the world of designer bags and prestigious titles, you feel quite stranded in the middle of the sweaty teenagers, all of them with the same social status as you, drinking expensive alcohol and swinging your hips to the EDM music playing through the speakers. It almost feels like this is the first time you’re able to enjoy yourself without anyone’s supervision, screaming at the top of your lungs into Zhong Chenle’s face as he laughs at you on the dance floor, and truth be told, you could care less about the pictures you’re going to take for your Instagram tomorrow, showing everyone just how good you’re doing and how much fun you’re having on your lengthy cruises around the continent, because somehow, even though the bar is clothed in gold and you feel a bit like in The great Gatsby, this feels like the least pressuring part of the whole trip.

“We should go to parties more often!” you scream into Chenle’s ear, taking a sip of your Brandy as you twirl yourself around him, the straps of your sparkly spaghetti-strap tiny top falling off your shoulders in a moment of carelessness, your thoughts somewhere completely else. You may be 19 years old and insanely wealthy, but that still doesn’t mean you are experienced in the art of partying– quite the opposite, actually, having to always seem cultivated and presenting yourself in a way that would suggest that your family is high on prestige and recognition– so to finally be surrounded by people your age, dancing along to the music and jumping up as you all chant the lyrics to Barbie girl by Aqua (how ironic) feels quite ecstatic.

“Like our parents would let us,” Chenle rolls his eyes, lips almost pressed against the shell of your ear as he makes sure to get close enough for you to hear him.

Sighing at his argument– knowing he’s absolutely right, but also hating the fact that he had to ruin your mood by stating it out loud– you shake your head as you down the last bits of your drink, putting the heavy glass onto the tray of a waiter that’s passing by to gather the rest of the empty ones scattered across the shiny tables in the corner of the room. Your brain is starting to get a little fuzzy and you can’t help the giggling escaping out of your throat whenever your eyes meet Chenle’s, the flush on the boy’s cheeks hinting at the fact that he’s not any better at handling his alcohol than you, having just as much experience in heavy drinking and partying as you do.

You’re only 19 years old and you don’t know a lot about the world. After all, you were brought up in a family that always did everything for you– you never had to move a single finger. You never even had to clean your room, because your parents had people that would come by every morning while you were in school, just so you could arrive home to a tidy place when you were done with your lectures. You went to a private school, so you were always surrounded by people with a status similar to yours. You spoke about your tutoring classes that cost more than groceries for a middle-class family a week, you talked about your trips abroad, and if you had time, you even went shopping with your classmates after school before your driver picked you up and drove you back into the suburbs; your neighborhood guarded by a gate, the asphalt behind it so much smoother than it is in the rest of the town.

You never got to experience partying like this– only gaping with an open mouth when you saw those scenes in the movies you watched on Netflix in your own private movie room. And if you’re being totally honest, you never imagined enjoying such a thing. You never had the experience, so you didn’t really yearn for it, but now that you’re here, surrounded by loud music, experiencing the weird emotional feeling that comes with being in a crowd screaming in joy at the same time first-hand on your own skin, you don’t think you’ll be able to go back to how you were before.

This is not how rich kids party. At least not when their parents are around.

“You’re gonna be hungover tomorrow morning,” Chenle mutters into your ear when your eyes light up at the sight of more alcohol, contemplating on getting another drink, just because.

“And you’re not?” you tease him, pointing to his glossy eyes and lazy walk, his legs tangling with each other every few seconds from the haze he’s been put in just by having a few drinks. The sight is quite funny– the ever-so composed millionaire son is now a troubled mess in your eyes; one wrong step and he could ruin the image his family has spent years to build up, but it doesn’t seem like either of you care, tripping over your feet and lounging at each other in the middle of the dance floor.

Feeling like you’re playing a dangerous game, hanging off his neck and swaying your hips to the rhythmic beat, you gape into his blown-out eyes and desperately try to get your brain straight. The more you drank and the more you spent time in Chenle’s close proximity, the less you were able to control your emotions and the weird thoughts in your brain that have been slowly eating up all your notions for quite some time now. Gaping at his plump lips and feeling his palms burning at your hips, his fingers ever-so-slightly hovering above the curve of your ass, you’re finding it hard to concentrate on the music or on the words spilling off his tongue, his voice never shutting up even in the loud bar. You always told him he talks too much, but he doesn’t seem to mind– he seems to actually take much pride in his annoying tendencies, talking your ear off on multiple occasions even when you tell him he should probably stay quiet for at least a minute, so your brain could recharge.

Truth be told, you listen to him most of the time anyway. He always talks and you always listen, rolling your eyes at the snarky parts and giggling at the jokes; so the fact that you suddenly can’t focus and just desperately want him to shut the fuck up must be the effect of all the alcohol you’ve been drinking tonight.

And your next step might as well be the main consequence of the coconut Brandy as well– because even though you’ve been dreaming of his plump lips on yours for quite some time now, you’ve never actually dared to act up on the desire. But your intention to make him go quiet seems to be working when the train of words stammering out of his mouth is cut off, a surprised noise trailing out of his throat when you kiss him on the dance floor; and to your surprise, he doesn’t seem to mind your weird sign of protest to his endless talking– quite the opposite, really, as he lets you take the lead and taste the mix of alcohol in the Long Island cocktails he’s been drinking the whole night off his tongue, your hands mindlessly trailing up to thread themselves into his hair.

This is not your first time kissing a boy– you once pecked Song Eunseok on the lips when the two of you sneaked out of class one day in 9th grade– but you never once kissed anyone with such passion and desire before. You’re not sure where you got all the courage from and you’re also not sure where you learned all of this– but it must be working, with how heavily Chenle’s breathing when you finally let go of his lips and he rests his forehead against yours. In no time, he’s chasing you down again, drunk not only on the alcohol now as he tilts his head to get closer, one hand resting on the side of your neck, just a few inches below your jaw, keeping you in place.

“You should learn how to shut up,” you mumble against his lips, breathing heavy as you break away from him again and open your eyes to meet your gaze with his. The music is still loud in your ears, but you swear you hear a static noise somewhere in your brain, a tingle in your fingertips making you feel like you’re about to have an out-of-body experience. Your drunken brain is not allowing you to ponder about your actions that much, not letting you think and contemplate the fact that you just made out with your childhood best friend on one of the most expensive cruise ships, drinking alcohol you weren’t supposed to spend so much money on, and maybe that’s a good thing– because there’s nothing stopping you in having the time of your life, no overthinking making you doubt your next steps and no feeling of shame or regret making the whole experience bitter as you dance pressed against your companion, letting him press short, yet daring kisses to your lips as time passes.

“I think I’m good,” he snickers, when the music suddenly cuts out, an announcer telling you that the bar closes at 2 AM and that this song is the last for the night.

Sighing in disappointment– because who even knows when the next time you’ll have this opportunity will come– you let Chenle lead you out of the bar, his hand glued around your exposed waist. Your walk is a little loop-sided and you two almost smash into the glass door (doesn’t matter that it’s automatic and it quite literally opened in front of your figures). Soon enough, you’re met with the golden interior of the cruise walls again, the design a little vintage, yet still luxurious, reminding you of the movie Titanic. Tripping over the doorsteps, hands getting caught on the red, velvety curtains hung around, you giggle at every word that comes out of Chenle’s mouth, bodies slowly, but surely getting closer and closer to your suite bedrooms. You’re quite sure your parents could hear you talking outside in the hall, but you choose to not ponder on what they would think of you if they saw you in this state too much, instead making yourself believe that they’re long asleep and won’t be woken up by your voices resonating through the quiet space.

“So I guess this is where we say goodnight?” you mumble, hanging off Chenle’s neck. His breath smells of the vodka-tequila mix when he hovers over you, bodies off-balance pressed against the cold wall just outside of your bedroom. Flashing you a grin, face looking close to a cheshire cat, he nudges your nose with his, a quiet hum landing to your ear, not heard by anyone.

“Or we could stay up a little longer.”

Squirming under his touch, his lips softly, yet still a little uncoordinatedly landing on yours, you waste no time in unlocking the door to your room– even though you have a bit of trouble with finding the key in your small purse, even surprised you haven’t lost the bag somewhere in the middle of the night– letting your childhood friend in to your space at the suggestion, your clothed bodies falling to the soft cushions of the water bed.

You’re only 19 and don’t know much about the world when you messily undress yourself under your friend’s eyes, blinded by the glints in his deep chocolate orbs when he looks at you from above and attacks your neck with kisses. And you usually don’t regret much, considering yourself a responsible individual, always rethinking everything and making sure it’s the right choice, but when you look back at this day now, you don’t really know if sleeping with Zhong Chenle on a cruise around Southeast Asia was the brightest idea of yours, considering the mental turmoil it’s gonna cause you on the way.

Well, at least you can say you lost your virginity somewhere in the middle of the Bali sea, and at least that’s something to boost your ego with, am I right…?

July 12, 2007 – Tokyo DisneySea, 2:21 PM

If anyone asked you for your favorite childhood memory, you wouldn’t have a hard time picking one. Sure, one would think you have too many pleasant memories to choose from, so realistically, you should take more time to pick and weigh the value of each one, contemplating if the trip to Rome was a happier memory than the summer you spent in Los Angeles when you were 10, but you are 100%, completely in tune with the fact that if anyone ever asked you this very question, the words falling off their tongue with interest and enthusiasm, no judgment and no hidden intentions behind their question, you’d have an answer ready with a smile on your face.

You don’t hold much emotion to your past memories. You’ve been on more vacations than you can both count and remember growing up, and so even though you do think the pictures you took in Italy came out good and your skin glistens prettily in the warm sun, even though you do think you experienced a lot of fun while going to the Target for the first time with your nanny– the woman your mum hired just because your parents were too busy with their business meetings the whole time you walked the streets of Los Angeles with the new woman you were supposed to trust with your life at the ripe age of 10– you wouldn’t say any of those memories are as close to your heart as the trip you took to Japan with the Zhong family when you were 6, the summer before attending first grade.

This was the year you and Chenle watched the Pirates of the Caribbean together for the first time, and even though it wasn’t in the initial plan, you two spent hours and hours and hours of the flight persuading your parents to take you to Tokyo Disneyland, because you heard from his cousin Yizhuo that you could meet Jack Sparrow if you went. While your plan didn’t exactly work and the two of you didn’t get to go to the large theme park– because your parents were busy, mostly traveling because of business and so they didn’t have the time to arrange it, the amount of sulking you two did when you arrived to the rented house in the expensive part of Tokyo to the teenager that was supposed to watch you two for the time being was enough for him to take you two on a short train ride to the twin of the famous theme park– the Tokyo DisneySea.

The 15-minute train ride you three took to the theme park was your first, and also last time you ever rode such a mean of transport. All you were used to were expensive sports cars and limousines– you never imagined that people took such transport even every single day, at times. You and Chenle were so immersed in the journey that it was hard for your babysitter to get you out of the train, your small, excited bodies almost tripping over your own little feet as the raven-haired boy dragged you through the streets of Maihama station.

You could see the towers of the park and you could smell the salt from the sea even from a distance. The whole atmosphere felt magical, giggles often erupting out of your throat as Yuta– the boy your parents hired to watch over you for the day– bought a bubble blower from one of the stands and blew out bubbles you two chased around and tried to pop before they got to the ground. There were no expensive cars in sight, no people dressed in suits and designer shoes– well, except from the two of you, but you couldn’t quite grasp the idea of how much your attire cost at that age yet– and you felt truly, insanely happy. The adults that always watched you when your parents went to business meetings were stern and serious, never letting you have much fun, but today was different, and you find yourself wondering why your parents even let you be babysat by a reckless teenager in the first place. He was 16 at the time– 10 years older than the both of you– and when you look back at the day now, you think it was the time pressure that brought your parents into hiring him. You bet they paid him a lot of money, hell, you bet they even lended him a credit card he could use to entertain you two for the whole afternoon, and even though you found him using it a few times, you didn’t think he spent just as much as all your previous babysitters did.

Not that you knew the value of money back then, after all. Maybe the fact that you couldn’t tell how much money everything was worth back then is what truly made the whole day so carefree and happy for you.

You were children of wealthy Chinese business owners. You always had everything they saw in your eyes– you didn’t even have to say it out loud and it was held up to you on a silver platter. This day, though, you didn’t even have to use that much money– if you truly compare it to other vacations your families have been to– and you can’t help but think it’s ironic how despite this fact, this day is still your favorite childhood memory.

The Tokyo DisneySea was catered to a more mature audience– even serving alcohol in the premises, a thing no other Disneyland does– but even though you were just 6 and couldn’t drink and there was no Jack Sparrow waiting for you in the streets of the theme park, you and Chenle had a blast. Maybe it was a good decision on Yuta’s part to take you to the DisneySea instead; it catered to your Pirates of the Caribbean needs perfectly despite it not being the initial theme. The ships and wooden coasts and harbors were enough for your imagination to create stories about pirates in your head, the three of you attending various rides and screaming at the top of your lungs together over the course of the afternoon.

“Wanna go to the Tower of Terror?” Yuta asked you, his toothy grin on full display as he dragged you two to the scary ride when you finally got to the American Waterfront.

The teenager was wearing a black muscle top with L’arc en ciel written on it– you found out only a few years later that it was a japanese rock band– and with his long, black hair falling to his forehead, he looked just like the person that would enjoy scary rides and horror movies. You, however– you weren’t prepared to get scared by green ghosts and eerie music. Not at 6 years old anyways, although you doubt you’d do better on this day.

If there’s one thing you need to know about Zhong Chenle, it’s the fact that he’s a lover of horror. And Korean dramas. But mostly horror– a few years later, when you were both the age Nakamoto Yuta was when he brought you to the Tokyo DisneySea, your friend came to a Halloween party dressed like the clown from IT and managed to jump-scare you every moment he physically got. There was no surprise in the small boy liking the idea of attending the scary ride, and no matter how hard you tried and protested, there was no use in you saying no. Because the two of them wanted to go, and you, quoting Yuta, ‘couldn’t just stay alone outside’, so you were pretty much forced into the darkness of the Tower of Terror, your small body pressed against Chenle and Yuta’s– you refused to sit anywhere but sandwiched between the two in the middle of the cart– shutting your eyes close when the scary music started playing and you could feel the anxiety forming in the pit of your stomach.

You trembled the whole time, panic resting in your beating heart, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself clinging to Chenle’s small hand, squishing it so hard he screamed at you in the dim lightning of the ride. You didn’t let go, though– that’s what he gets for dragging you along– fracturing his bones wasn’t in your concerns, if it made you feel more secure and safe.

The fond memory of the day ends with the moment the scary ride is over and you finally get out of the darkness– with Yuta having to carry your out of terror half-paralyzed body from the cart. To this day, you still don’t have a clear outlook on why this day is your favorite childhood memory, but you think it might be the mix of Chenle’s excited laughter as he scared you every two seconds after the ride, the apologetic hug he enveloped you in after you almost burst to tears the third time, the taste of the sausage Yuta bought you two for dinner, the taxi ride to the rented house you had to take in a rush before your parents got back from their business meeting, and the melodic voice of your best friend when he sang you the opening theme to the Pirates of the Caribbean before you two fell asleep on the same bed in your hotel room.

Either way, despite the terror, you don’t think you’ve ever had this much fun ever again.

When you peed the bed that night, your parents decided to never hire a teenager to look after the two of you again. From that moment alone, there was less horror, but also less fun.

May 5, 2019 – tennis courts in Jinqiao, Shanghai, 4:17 PM

One would think that growing up with Zhong Chenle would put him into a position of your almost-brother. And while you did agree with the statement on most days– like when he laughed so hard that snot came out of his nose and almost fell into your lunch plate when you were 15, or when he shot you with his paintball gun so hard you had a bruise on your knee for three weeks when you were 17– you think you’re starting to slowly outgrow this phase.

Zhong Chenle is no longer a brotherly figure to you when you two pick up tennis at the ripe age of 18.

It wasn’t either of your ideas, of course. Tennis is not a sport a teenager just suddenly picks up one day because they’re interested– at least not when you’re incredibly wealthy and can pretty much afford any other hobby in the entire world. No, it was the idea of Chenle’s mother– because, quoting, ‘the kids barely go out these days, they might as well pick up a sport!’ – and with the copycat tendencies of your dear mum, you were dragged along into it as well. And so now, during the finals season, on top of that, you two have to go play tennis on one of the private tennis courts your families rent for three hours a day every Friday afternoon instead of studying or focusing on getting your stress out of your body doing other, much more enjoyable things.

“You know, you look a little too excited for someone who hates playing tennis,” Renjun– the neighborhood kid (your parents being business partners for quite some time now made you and the short boy become friends somewhere along the way)– states, snickering as he lays on one of the benches on the side, his own tennis racket thrown carelessly on the ground as he watches the two of you running around the court, playing.

“I only do it because I’m bored,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sending the little yellow ball over the net with much force, making you run to the other side of the court.

“And I only do it because I need to prove to him that he’s not the best at everything he tries,” you add, sending the ball back to your friend.

“Just say you want to impress him and go,” Yizhuo– Chenle’s cousin from his mother’s side– teases you from the bench, sitting next to Renjun. Her remark doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you send the yellow ball her way after her cousin passes it towards your side of the court again, aiming precisely for her forehead but missing, earning yourself a terrified yelp out of the girl when she scootches closer to the boy next to her.

“That’s totally not what’s going on, but sure,” you roll your eyes at her when she throws the ball back, but you don’t feel interested in continuing the game anymore. Tiredly walking closer to the two sitting at the little shaded bench, wiping the sweat off your forehead, you try hard to not think of the snarky remark that was sent your way.

Is it really that obvious? Because sure, you’ve always found Zhong Chenle to be your brother figure over the years of growing up– but there’s something about the humid air of the tennis court and his competitiveness that have you eyeing him when he takes a sip from his water bottle or when he adjusts the hairband sitting on his damp forehead. He wears shorts that reveal his calves very nicely, and when you play 2 on 2, you find yourself focusing less and less on the game– earning yourself a frustrated yell from Ning Yizhuo herself as she plays along your side– and more and more on the Gucci tennis shoes adorning his feet as you scan the boy up and down, his figure growing taller and taller each passing day captivating you in a sense you’ve never quite experienced before.

“I can’t believe my mum dragged you all into this shit,” Chenle giggles when he sits next to Renjun on the bench, following you to the shade. There’s only 20 minutes left in the time your parents rented the court for and you figure that you can spend that time recharging your energy instead of playing the boring game.

“Not me,” Yizhuo says, “she made my mother feel bad about not signing me up for any sports. You know, your mum’s pretty persuasive, especially when it comes to looking good in front of everyone. If it wasn’t for my mum, I wouldn’t be doing this shit,” she complains, shrugging as she adjusts her ponytail that’s always sitting neatly on the crown of her head.

“I love the fact that Renjun here is the least athletic out of all of us, but he is the only one here willingly,” you snicker, earning yourself a chant of amused laughs at the spoken truth. Now, nobody forced Huang Renjun to come play tennis with you every Friday– but the fact that he doesn’t have many friends in the neighborhood was what made him come along, too bored on his own and with nothing to put his attention to. He doesn’t like playing much, but everything’s better than sitting alone at home, am I right?

The three of you gossip about everything and nothing– the new family in the neighborhood, especially, because Renjun saw their son last Sunday and found his outfit absolutely atrocious (“You’d think people with money would at least know how to dress well, but no. That’s not the case with that Wen Junhui guy.”). The time passes by quickly, and when the timer on Chenle’s phone goes off, signaling that the three mandatory hours at the tennis court are finally over, you all stand up and walk over to the gate, shoes dragging along the sandy surface of the ground with much tiredness. At least you’re getting some cardio in…

“Is your driver coming to pick you up?” Chenle asks as you pay goodbye to your friends, both of them getting into expensive cars waiting for them at the parking lot. Turning to him, you hum in agreement, suddenly shy under his gaze. It’s not even summer yet, but the May sun is already harsh on the skin, getting redness to spread along his cheeks, only further sculpting his handsome bone structure you’ve grown so familiar with over the years.

“What about you?”

“Told my mum I’ll walk home instead. It’s not like it’s only a 20 minute walk anyway,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at the irony of you having to drive home despite living only a few meters away from him, in the same wealthy neighborhood. You grew up together, in the same mowed lawns, in the same green labyrinths of your families’ villas, in the same high ceilings and golden accents on the interior of your houses. After watching him from the corner of your eye, you start to wonder about what changed between the two of you that made you so weak to him now, that you’re both 18. Did he change? Was it the fact that you were now both adults? You don’t think that’s the case– because even though you were 18, there were no more responsibilities waiting for you than they were the years before.

“My driver can take you,” you say, kicking the rocks below your feet, “well, unless you want to walk home alone instead,” you add, noting his previous sentence.

You see him take a sip out of his water bottle, shrugging at your suggestion. Chenle’s not a fan of inefficiency, no matter the fact that you can afford anything you could ever want. It’s a quality of him you find quite strange some days, but you don’t ponder on it too much.

You’ve known each other since you were in diapers. And after replaying all the memories you have with the boy in your head, you think that your 18 year old self isn’t so stupid for falling for him. See– you’ve got to know a lot of men over the course of your life. Many tried to get with you barely before you even grew into an adult, seeing the vision of money and the social status you could give them. Some, on the other hand, never gave you back the attention you were giving them. All relationships you had in your life were blinded by the imaginary price tag you always carried around with yourself, and so everything always stayed surface-level and plain. No wonder you fell for Chenle– no matter how long it took you to get to this part of your friendship– he’s the only one that ever showed you his true self, he’s the only one that ever trusted you enough to go deeper in conversations with you and treated you like a real human being. You know him well and he knows you well; he’s like a book you always find yourself rereading, excited to find that your favorite characters always stayed the same. At the end of the day, you think you were always meant to fall for Chenle.

Standing under the blazing sun, you wait for your driver to get to the tennis courts. You wait for 10 minutes, then 15– and when you get a little too overheated, Chenle offers you his water bottle and mumbles something about being on time. When the time passes 45 minutes after your driver’s supposed arrival, your friend turns to you with a glint in his eye, a grin sitting on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Wanna walk home with me instead?”

And the truth is, you don’t find yourself disagreeing. And you also don’t find yourself hating the walk up the hills of the neighborhood– no matter how tiring it was to your already exhausted limbs– and you don’t find yourself complaining about the lack of AC or the vehicle driving your ass home to your, admittedly, too big of a house. Chenle entertains you with his talks– because he always talks too much for his own good– and when you stop paying attention to him and lose track of where you’re going, he drags you back to the sidewalk by your hand and your fingers stay interlocked when he teases you about the fact that you almost got ran over by a white Cadillac.

“Listen, there’s this song I think you’ll like,” he hums when you’re 5 minutes away from your house, pulling out his phone out of his back pocket and opening up the Spotify app. He plays you a song by Ariana Grande, singing along to the lyrics of the chorus. His voice goes thin when he tries to mimic the singer’s voice, dragging along the english sentences of ‘it feels so good to be this young and have this fun and be successful, i’m so successful!’, irony seeping from his tone. Your hands are still intertwined as he swings them back and forth and you don’t even really care about the subtle implication of the lyrics he’s singing– because it’s Chenle, and despite being just as wealthy as you, he’s no stranger to calling you a snob.

When you’re 18 and walking back from your weekly tennis endeavors, you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your heart when your friend twirls you around in your driveway, your white tennis skirt childishly fulfilling your unsaid dreams of becoming a ballerina, before he walks to his house standing on the opposite side of the road.

You don’t even care that your poor driver got fired by your mother right after she realized he forgot to pick you up from the tennis court as much.

October 17, 2020 – a charity evening, Shanghai, 9:11 PM

Your whole life so far has been guided in the aura of money. When you were little, you didn’t realize it as much– your young, undeveloped brain couldn’t phantom the fact that your annual trips to Italy and summer vacations at yachts and in the Paris DisneyLand weren’t a normal occurrence to everyone. You couldn’t understand the value of money, and you think that maybe, you never truly will. Because you were born fortunate, never having to worry about a single thing, always living in wealth and with gold around your neck.

The closest you are to understanding just how much money your family truly has is at the charity evenings you are forced to attend. Walking around, mostly bored– because truly, you didn’t have much of an idea just how much money you’re sending to the unfortunate parts of Africa and what the whole thing even has to do with you, when the money wasn’t really yours in the first place– you try to at least look through the flier your family made for the event, reading through the carefully crafted sentences, feeling at least a little sorry for everyone that doesn’t get to live the way you do.

“Isn’t it funny how this is the only way our families can present themselves in a good light?” Chenle mumbles when he reads over your shoulder, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.

Turning around to look at your companion, you furrow your brows at his snarky comment. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we give to charity so people don’t hate us as much,” Chenle shrugs, taking a sip from the champagne poured in a tall glass you’re pretty sure your mother spent hours and hours picking out when renting this place, just so everything could be perfect.

“It’s just jealousy,” you say as you walk side-by-side with the boy, the expensive fabric of his white button-down hugging his body in all the right places, leaving you light-headed when you let yourself indulge in your thoughts for too long and stare at the curves of his forearms. It’s been a few months since you slept with your childhood friend– and while you must admit that you regretted it a little when you woke up in the morning, with a hangover and sore limbs, you also didn’t regret it as much as to turn the offer down when it was next brought to you. And the next time, and the next…

“You think?” Chenle asks, and his interest in your answer seems genuine.

“Yeah,” you nod, shrugging to yourself, “we have more money than any of them ever will, so it’s only natural for people to feel jealous and talk spiteful things about us.”

Chenle hums at your answer, licking his lips before he looks you dead in the eye, the smallest glint of irony shining from behind the dark orbs, making you shrink under his gaze. “It’s not like it’s hard work anyway,” Chenle mutters, “if it wasn’t all stolen money, at least the charity work wouldn’t feel as fake.”

You stop in your tracks at the comment, furrowing your brows. “Stolen money?”

The boy next to you snickers at your clueless eyes. It’s no wonder you never really cared about the source of your family’s wealth– you were born to it, so you never had a reason to doubt it. And truth be told, you never really complained either. You don’t think anyone in your place would, really. You just accepted it the way it is, and you never asked any questions. For all you know, your parents are hard working business owners– you bet their money is well deserved for the amount of effort they put in– so to hear that it’s stolen money, from someone who is in a similar position as you, on top of that, you can’t believe your ears.

“I mean, they’re business owners. Let’s not act like both yours and my parents don’t meddle with the taxes at least a bit, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, “if I were all those people outside of it, I’d hate myself too.”

His words do little to comfort you. They do quite the opposite, really, and even though Zhong Chenle has no proof to show you of the fact that your parents might have at least a bit of dirty money on their hands, you can’t say you don’t trust a word that comes out of his mouth. You start to wonder if you’re that gullible– and who is the one lying straight to your eyes now, if it’s your friend or your parents– and you start to believe that you’d trust everything Chenle tells you, because that’s just the relationship you have with him. He could do anything and you’d follow him to the end of the world. It takes years to build that bond, and so even know, although you have the urge to scream at him for talking such things about the ones that brought you to this world– this perfect, shiny world– you find yourself holding back, the bubble around you bursting in a second, although you spent 19 years of your life living in the fake glory and bejeweled experience. Opening your mouth to ask him more about the matter– to get yourself out of the confusion you’ve been put in with just a few sentences uttered out of his always too-honest mouth, you turn to the boy when a man with a camera approaches the two of you, asking to take a picture of you.

And you comply, because what else are you supposed to do? This is how you’ve been raised. You smile for the pictures, you grin when you find yourself in the magazines, you nod when people recognise your name, you greet people with a polite nod, because you never know when someone wants to make business with your parents and you wouldn’t want to ruin good opportunities for them, would you?

With Chenle’s arm around your waist, your body instinctively leaning into his touch, you smile for yet another picture for the portfolio. Sometimes you feel like a princess– with everything it takes; both the royal responsibilities and the special treatment. More often than not, you find yourself enjoying the spotlight.

“Now they have proof that we were here,” Chenle mumbles into your ear, his lips gently brushing the smooth skin, “wanna get out of here? This party doesn’t look as enjoyable as the last one we went to,” the boy references the time you spent together at the cruise ship, with both the screaming on the dancefloor, and also the aftermath in your room, making heat puddle in your cheeks as you swat his hand away before it gets too low on your back in front of everyone in the room.

“I have to give a speech, but… maybe later?” you look at him, innocently batting your eyelashes at him, when the boy shrugs and takes a step back, downing the last drops of champagne from the expensive looking glass.

“I’ll be waiting back home,” Chenle says, “I bet our parents will stay until this all ends, so we have plenty of time for ourselves when you decide you’re tired of the gala.”

He disappears out of your sight the moment after, putting the empty glass onto a tray of one of the waiters carefully walking across the room, his back escaping out the front door. If you squint hard enough through the glass, you could see him getting into one of the sports cars he got from his parents for his 18th birthday– the vehicle driving off in the hands of his driver for the night, since he just had a glass of alcohol– and leaving you alone in the world of faux and feathers, fulfilling the responsibilities given to you by your mother. And for the first time– not only because you hate giving public speeches– you so desperately want to follow him, getting out before midnight like Cinderella, never attending another one of these evenings ever again.

You don’t, though. You’re an obedient daughter.

And when you call him up from the entryway a few minutes after midnight, his rough hands welcoming you to his bedroom by undressing the thousand-dollar Tiffany dress you wore to the event– being the aftermath of his previous words or not, you start to think how ironic it is that your attire for the evening cost more than than the monthly rent of the people you were giving to in your speech.

After a while, your words turn bitter.

March 23, 2020 – South Cape Owners Club, Namhae-gun, Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea, 1:17 PM

“Did you really have to choose the most boring thing to do for your birthday?” Chenle mutters under his nose when all of your parents stride forward to get another hole in one, beads of sweat appearing on your foreheads as you stand directly under the midday sun.

“This wasn’t my idea, okay?” Renjun huffs, carrying his golf equipment with him, the silly-looking golf gloves tugged right off his hands when his parents are no longer in sight. “All I wanted was to visit my grandma, but they decided we needed to do something special for my birthday, and when I couldn’t tell them anything I’d like to do, they dragged everyone to play golf.”

“I was thinking more like… clubbing and then crashing at your grandma’s place overnight, but okay…” Yizhuo snickers, watching as all of your parents joyfully talk between themselves, their conversation rarely leaving business matters as they play golf with as much enthusiasm as one can have while focusing on this boring sport. You don’t really know who made this game and why they made it– you can imagine seventy thousand different ways you’d love to spend your afternoon doing instead, more than a half of them supposedly more mundane than the sport itself; but you still know you’d enjoy even sitting down and getting ice cream better than having to pretend you’re interested in, what Chenle called, rich-people-only sport.

“Maybe I can sneak a bottle up into my room later, but I’m not promising anything,” Renjun shrugs, sighing to himself as he takes out his phone from his back pocket and shakes his head at the sight of the time appearing on his screen. You’ve been at the golf course since 10 AM, and with how interested in the game your parents seem to be, you’re not leaving any time soon either.

Not really engaged in the conversation– because Chenle once told you you complain too much (you truly thought he was the one doing so, but you believe pretty much everything that comes out of the man’s mouth, because he’s mostly right about things) and you think you’ve done your fair share of complaining on your way to the golf course in the first place– you look around, trying to find a thing that could occupy your attention instead. Finding anything fun to do while playing golf may just be the hardest thing to do, but when you notice your companion Chenle missing and his figure appears striding towards your small group in a golf cart, the vehicle going full speed (even the barely 40 km/h looks like it could kill when he seems to not give a single damn about running you over), and suddenly, your mind is occupied enough.

Screeching when the golf cart barely misses your figure, you jump to the side and watch Chenle laugh from the driver’s seat. His malicious instincts barely ever leave his body and the operation of a golf cart is seemingly bringing out the worst in him– thank god he barely drives anymore– and you can’t help but laugh at his little stunt when the cart comes to a sharp halt and he waves you three over with a motion of his hand.

“Hop on, motherfuckers, we have places to be!” he says, all of you following his footsteps and jumping into the small vehicle– you in the passenger seat, next to Chenle, and Renjun and Yizhuo taking the two seats on the back. Once you’re all in, the engine grunts with the speed Chenle’s intending to get to in the weak thing, the atmosphere shifts into one with much more fun and adrenaline– because you know you’re not supposed to ride the carts (not this fast anyway) and when your parents find out, you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble. No, you’re not going to get grounded– you’re not a kid anymore– but the silent treatment and nagging from them about being well-raised and respectable members of society is enough to leave you scared of their anger for the rest of your lives.

“Slow down, I’m gonna fall out!” you scream when Chenle takes a sharp turn, the golf cart almost toppling over on the green grass.

“I got you, don’t worry,” he notes, one of his hands loosely falling to your thigh to keep you in place, your skin heating up even more from his touch now, enjoying the hold but also fearing the eyes of your friends from the backseat. Your earlier terror is quickly erased with another sharp turn the driver takes– having much more things to worry about now, surviving being one of them– and when he zooms past the group of middle-aged people standing a few meters ahead of you, you already know you’re in big trouble.

Now you’re gonna get scolded for abducting a golf cart. When it wasn’t even your idea in the first place.

Well, that’s something to worry about later.

Chenle drives with the cart all over the golf course, the vehicle providing you enough entertainment for the next few minutes until you get tired of the ride. Looking over at him on your side, gaping a little at the view of your childhood friend driving the cart with only one hand, the other one still securely glazing your thigh, you almost choke out with how attractive the strange sight is to your eyes. Forcing yourself to focus on the road– and thank god, because if you didn’t hold to the side of the cart now, you’d surely fall out despite Chenle’s reassuring words and his hold on your leg– when the man cuts through a small hill in the golf course, the vehicle jumping up and falling back down making you scream in terror mixed with just a bit of excitement.

“Fucking hell, at least warn us before!” Renjun screams from the back, followed by Yizhuo’s amused laughter. You can only imagine Renjun’s almost fallen out, and even though the mental image looks hilarious, you really don’t need him to get hurt today, because he wouldn’t shut up about it for the next 8 working days. And it’s his birthday, after all– you wouldn’t wanna ruin it by having too much fun.

And so, with a last giggle escaping the boy’s throat, Chenle brings the golf cart to a halt, the vehicle stopping far enough from your parents to not get scolded immediately for making so much ruckus at the golf cart, the four of you enjoying the silence, still recovering from the wild ride. Smiling fondly to yourself and gaping at the boy next to you again, you suddenly grow appreciative of him. If it wasn’t for his wild nature, you would still be sulking somewhere on the golf course, pretending to enjoy living your snobby life alongside your parents. You bet even Renjun himself will find this moment captured in his brain as a core birthday memory, and the more you stare at Chenle’s side profile, the more you want to hold his face in your hands and thank him.

“Ew,” you hear Yizhuo’s voice from behind you, bringing you out of your thoughts. Looking back to see what she’s referring to, you watch her gaze landing on Chenle’s hand playing with the flesh on your thigh, heat suddenly rising to your cheeks in being caught in the exact position you feared a little while ago.

“What–” Chenle snaps his head back at his cousin, while you quickly shrug his palm off your skin, but it’s too late now– you’ve been caught in the act and now you can’t do anything to erase Ning Yizhuo’s memory.

“You know, I thought you two were cousins at first. Like, from your dad’s side, I mean,” Yizhuo sighs, shaking her head in disbelief at the two of you, her comment not doing much to ease the situation either. Chenle seems to be confused at her words, his face scrunching up as he glares at the girl.

“We’re not,” you note, clearing your throat and looking at her with a glare, mentally praying for her to drop the topic.

“Yeah, thank god,” Chenle adds, and you should’ve expected him to make the situation even worse– it’s Zhong Chenle, after all– but his next words shock you and leave you gasping, mentally killing him right here and in this moment, “that would make a lot of things weird.”

“Ew,” Yizhuo repeats, and suddenly, that perks up Renjun’s attention– the boy previously facing the other side of the golf course and not paying you three much care– as he looks around and watches you with confusion in his features.

“What are you talking about?”

“That they are–” the girl takes it upon herself to explain her findings, but she’s quickly cut off by a sound of a middle-aged woman screaming through the place, her small figure striding towards the golf cart.

“Zhong Chenle, what do you think you’re doing?!”

And with that scolding tone, the previous topic is dropped. Thank god.

June 12, 2020 – Zhong Chenle’s room, Shanghai, 11:21 PM

A hand stroking through his hair, smoothing back the bangs and revealing his forehead in the dim blue of the neon light in his room, you lay on your side next to your friend Chenle, a blanket carelessly thrown over your half-naked middles to shield you from the breeze. You hum a song under your breath as you play with his locks, the black disappearing between your fingers like sand, eyes carefully watching his tired expression.

If you thought hard enough, you could see the little boy you first met at your parent’s conference room when you were 3 materialize in front of your eyes. His cheeks were chubby and he was short, waddling behind you almost a head less than your size, and his voice was thin as he asked you for your name. From that moment on, you knew you were supposed to stick together– and while your parents were the first relative to bring you two together, you didn’t mind always being glued to each other’s hips.

When you look closer at him now, it’s hard to see that boy in him. Harder than you expected, if you’re being totally honest. Don’t get me wrong, you can still see in his features– even though his cheekbones are more prominent now and his jaw is more chiseled, lips plumper and his figure built more firmly than when he was a little boy– but there’s something about his demeanor that completely changed over time. He seems less enthusiastic, and while one would think that it’s just him growing into being a more laid-back and relaxed person– he’s not a kid anymore, after all– you think there’s something more to it, you just can’t quite put your finger to it.

Seeing him close his eyes every once in a while, lids falling under the weight of his tiredness and the comfort your gentle strokes through his scalp give him, you feel your heart clench with all the care you’re currently putting into the boy, and all that you’ve been putting into him throughout your growing up. After so many years– after getting so close and intimate with him– you don’t think you’d be able to let the boy go, and just the sheer image of ever losing him or leaving him behind leaves you trembling with anxiety.

And so, despite being afraid of ruining the calm atmosphere that comes after making love to him, you speak up with a weak voice, contrasting to what you’re logically supposed to feel after getting to know the news this morning– just because you have to know.

“Lele?” you mumble, hearing him let out a hum, his voice sounding as if he’s half-asleep, but you know he’s listening to you. “What are your plans… after you graduate?” you ask. The day of graduation is coming faster and faster towards you, the years you’ve spent at high school finally fulfilled after all the effort you put in on your finals.

“Dunno,” he replies, eyes barely opened as his arm that’s been previously laid on the mattress in between your two bodies moves to your hip, fingers drumming over the soft skin, “why?”

“Just wondering…” you speak, voice barely louder than a whisper. The boy stays silent– his eyes once again closing on themselves as you continue to play with his hair. One would think he’s fallen asleep, not awake enough to have this conversation, and you would even believe the fact and let the conversation go, thinking you’d find another time to dwell on this topic, but then, as a surprise, his voice startles you from your deep thoughts when he curiously inquires you, the hand on your hip steadying.

“What about you?”

Taking a deep breath in and out, a smile battling to take over your lips, you lick your lips in the heartbeat that comes before your answer. Swallowing your nerves– because even though you should’ve told him the moment you got the news this morning, you’re somehow stressed out about the action of doing so– you open your mouth and finally break the rules to him.

“I… I got to Yale,” you say, on your toes. The joy and relief you felt this morning when you saw the email appear on your phone screen is daring to creep into the way you speak to Chenle right now, but you’re keeping it in. Not letting yourself scream and shout the accomplishment from the rooftops, you look at the boy, not a change appearing on his face at hearing your announcement. “I got into their business program,” you add anxiously, waiting for him to say something– anything– to your news.

As your friend, he’s supposed to be happy for you, isn’t he? He’s supposed to hug you now and squeeze you and tell you how you’ve done a good job and that he’s proud of you and that he’s cheering you on in your dream. None of it comes, though, as he only hums and nods at your sentences, not even bothering to open his eyes to look at you when you oh so excitedly talk to him about your life goals.

Something inside of you breaks just the tiniest bit, your mood falling as you anxiously chew on the inside of your cheek.

“Are you not gonna say anything?” you demand, halting your movements through his raven locks, averting your touch and looking at him curiously.

You watch him as he finally opens his eyes and looks at you with an empty look, licking his lips before humming again and asking you in a tone of voice that barely meets interest or excitement. “So you’re gonna be a businesswomen like your mum when you get your degree?” he asks, nodding to himself.

“Yeah,” you answer, clearing your throat. You’re a little confused at his weird stance towards the topic, but you battle out a tight-lipped smile. “I’m hoping for it.”

He hums again, the noise seemingly enough for him to consider it a valid conversation holder, a deadpan: “Good,” leaving his lips after a second, making you furrow your brows in confusion and utter disappointment. This is not the way you imagined the conversation to go– this is not how you wanted it to go at all.

Heaving out a sigh, you tug your arm to yourself, contemplating on speaking up– knowing you’re just gonna make everything worse if you do– but doing so anyway. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“I mean, what else is there to say?”

Looking at him in disbelief, your face scrunching up in various different emotions, all mixing into one– disappointment being the dominant feel, you think, you scoff at him. This is not Zhong Chenle as you know him, and sure, he hasn’t been the most overly-excited, cheerful individual these past few months, but you still think you deserve at least a bit of praise for the achievement of getting into one of the hardest universities to get to in the world, no?

“I don’t know, you could… congratulate me, I guess…? Tell me I did a good job, I dunno… would be nice,” you mutter, snickering once more to prove your irritation with the man.

“Oh,” he says, looking genuinely surprised, taken-aback, even, “well, congrats on the legacy admission, I guess,” he says, nonchalant, as if his words aren’t a dagger to your heart each second that passes, your blood pressure rising as the reality downs on you that he’s being serious and that this is not a sick joke.

“The legacy admission?” you repeat, eyes big and shocked, your whole body moving an inch away from him on the bed without you realizing.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, not a bit caring about breaking you from the inside, the humiliation slowly creeping from the tips of your fingertips to the depths of your soul.

“So you’re saying I went through the whole admission process and put in so much effort only for you to say that I got in because of stupid legacy?” you chirp, gazing at him with sharp eyes, blood boiling from the impact of his words. “What legacy are you even talking about?”

“Don’t act like you’re not a nepo baby,” he snickers, rolling his eyes.

Gasping at his words, baffled at the unexpected reaction, you stand up on the bed and stare at him with sharp eyes. At a loss for words, you stutter a little when you speak up again and utter out the next words, hoping to hit him where it hurts. “Like you’re not?”

“Never said I’m not,” he shrugs, “don’t have a problem with admitting I am.”

“So you’re saying I only got to university because of my parents,” you get out, glossy eyes scanning his peaceful figure, “so you’re saying I’m not smart enough to get into Yale?”

“That’s not what I said–”

“But you implied.”

“You only hear what you want to hear,” Chenle sighs, as if he was tired of your antics, which only makes you more furious at the whole interaction.

“No, Chenle–” you stutter, his name rolling off your tongue as if it was meant to stop him with hurting you even more for discrediting your efforts, yet, you can’t find any more words to say to him as you stare at this limb body laying on the soft mattress of his king sized bed, shaking your head in disbelief.

Standing up from the bed and scattering around the room for your clothes, ignoring the way putting them on in front of him makes you feel like you’ve been stripped away from all your dignity, you hurriedly come to the door of his bedroom, almost forgetting your phone that you gather on your way out from the messy desk in the right corner of the room.

“Where are you going?” he asks monotonously, watching you move through the place.

“Home,” you bark out, running your hand through your hair as you walk back to the door, ignoring the hot tears pricking your eyes at the feeling of your whole entire world collapsing in on you when he mourns from the bed.

“Don’t be mad, it’s not like I said anything bad…”

“Goodnight,” you snap, not bothering to look back at him as you escape his house in the middle of the night, running through the street to your house much earlier than you anticipated, wiping at your cheeks with angry palms.

This is the first time he disappointed you, and you can’t tell if that felt worse, or if it was the excitement slowly and painfully stripping off your bones, making you feel like you’re running around without your flesh, completely see-through for everyone around.

June 27, 2020 – IFC Mall, Shanghai, 4:33 PM

“Do you think this makes my ass look extra hot?” Yizhuo asks, gaze shifting from you to Chenle to Renjun, the four of you currently in one of the designer shops at the mall. Leaning on the wall, arms crossed on your chest and chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug, not a word escaping your mouth.

“I’m your cousin, I’m not looking at your ass like that,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sighing as he takes a seat on one of the expensive looking sofas situated in the changing room, resting his head against the neck rest and closing his eyes in what seems to be tiredness or annoyance– either of, or both mixed in, equal parts.

“Oh come on, I need to know!”

“It does look super hot, Yizhuo, now can you–”

“So you are staring at my butt!” Yizhuo excitedly yelps, pointing a sharp finger towards Renjun, a bright grin settling onto her lips when the accused boy stutters, cheeks reddening at her comment.

“You literally asked us to, for fuck’s sake!”

“You could’ve refused, just like Chenle did,” she shrugs, smiling to herself in victory. If anyone was listening to your conversation right now, they would surely have a lot of questions you wouldn’t be able to respond to. Hell, even you’re confused half of the time you hang out with Ning Yizhuo– what the hell is going on in her head?

“He’s your family, of course he refused,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head as he drags a hand through his hair in despair.

“Whatever you say, Renjunie,” she chirps, closing the curtain behind her and changing back into the pants she wore when she got to the store in one swift motion, leaving the boy puzzled with her next words as she walks up to the counter, “I’m only buying those because you think I look super hot in them, just so you know.”

Paying for her things and escaping the store, the rest of you tagging along, you notice the boy aimlessly trying to forget about the whole situation, and his prayers were listened to, after all, since Yizhuo seems to drop the topic after teasing him so much, turning to you instead. Walking alongside with you, leaving the two boys a few steps ahead, she nudges you with her elbow, raising up her brow in question.

“What’s up with you? You haven’t even tried anything on,” she notes, “and we both know you’ve been eyeing that new LV collection, so there must be something bothering you.”

Sighing, hating that the girl knows you so well– that, or you’re being awfully obvious– you roll your eyes in annoyance and try to shrug the topic off. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s obviously a lie. Is it something with Chenle? You two are usually all over each other, so–”

“It’s not about Chenle,” you snap, cutting the poor girl off, “so drop it.”

“Did he say something stupid? I know my cousin, come on. I can slap some sense into him, sweetheart, just let me know–”

“Please let it be,” you insist, tone of voice almost a little too sharp for your own liking, but it seemingly does its job as your friend only shrugs and takes a sip out of the coffee you all bought when getting to the mall, catching up to the men a few steps in front of you, talking about basketball.

“Well, if you need to talk to anyone about it, you know where to find me,” she says, and joins the discourse with her cousin and the boy she’s been teasing for whatever reason for the last few weeks instead, leaving you to trail behind them like a lost puppy, deep in your thoughts.

It’s been a few weeks since you last talked to Chenle. He tried reaching out to you a few times, sending you texts to ask what you’re doing that day to see if you wanna hang out. It seemed that at first, he didn’t really understand that he upset you. After you continued to ignore him even on graduation day, only greeting him and sparing him a few words, he seemed to get the memo as he let you deal with your emotions by yourself instead. You were never given an apology– and truthfully, knowing Chenle, you didn’t even expect to get one in the first place. But still, it’s been bugging you and you couldn’t get his words out of your brain, because you know you can’t do anything about them– if this is the image he has of you, the opinion he created, you don’t think you can talk it out with him in the first place.

“Everything okay back there?” Chenle asks, looking behind at you. His eyes are big and honest, and you find yourself nodding to his caring question. Sparing him a word seems like too much effort right now, and so when he offers you a tight-lipped smile, you don’t have enough energy to reciprocate it.

“Princess Yizhuo here has sore feet, so we are calling it a day. You wanted anything from the mall? I can stay behind with you and go get it,” he continues, his words jabbing into you only reminding you more of the days you spent ignoring him. Realistically, he should be mad at you for it– maybe you even wanted that to happen so he would ignore you instead, giving you the silent treatment, but this is your childhood friend Zhong Chenle we’re talking about. He talks too much in situations where he should shut up instead, and that’s exactly what’s happening in this very moment as well.

“I’m good,” you note, shrugging as you throw the empty coffee cup into one of the bins on your way, your small group now escaping the mall and getting to the parking lot.

Walking towards Chenle’s Zenvo TS1 parked in the corner of the parking lot, you hear the chatter of the group resonating in your ears, not really engaging in the conversation yourself, but choosing to listen to feel included anyway. It’s not their fault that you’re not in the mood, and frankly, you’re glad they even invited you to the outing in the first place. Everything’s better than being left out in your books, even if it means forcing yourself into social interaction.

“My driver should be here any minute,” Yizhuo smiles, waving at Renjun currently getting into his Porsche Cayenne that he got after you all arrived from his birthday trip to Korea. Watching the boy drive off– while listening to Chenle bitching about his driving (he does have a point though, the poor boy almost crashed into a pole on his way out) – you feel a nudge to your elbow, making you turn to your friend.

“Wanna get back with me, neighbor?” he asks, eyebrows raised in question.

In any other circumstance, you wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before answering. But now, you ponder on the question for a bit– you got to the mall with Yizhuo, having hanged out with her at her place before– but now that she’s getting a drive home, there was no use in you tagging along with her, since you live quite far from her house. Getting a drive home from Chenle is the most logical solution, after all, and that’s why you find yourself nodding.

Jumping to the passenger’s seat, waving at Yizhuo still waiting for her driver to get there– it should take only about 5 more minutes, with the speed her driver can get to when called– you silently gaze out of the window on your way back, not sparing the boy next to you a glance. He seems to not mind, carefully taking turns and waiting at the stop signs and red lights on his way to your neighborhood, humming along under his breath to the songs on the radio instead to fill the silence. You spend the ride chewing on your cheek, nerves eating you up from inside just at the sheer fact of being in his close proximity again, yet still being so painfully hurt at the feelings he expressed the last time you hung out one-on-one.

His car smoothly gets to the parts of the town that feel more rich– houses growing bigger in size, the gates taller in the sky and the lawns mowed more carefully, with more fancy bushes in the yards and pure-blood dogs running around in front of the gates. After a few minutes, your neighborhood appears in front of your eyes, his car driving past your house and into the Zhong property instead, making you furrow your brows in confusion and annoyance.

“You could’ve just stopped in front of my house so I could get out, you know,” you hum, sighing when he turns the engine off.

“I was thinking we could hang out over at ours for a sec,” he shrugs, turning his face to you with a hopeful glint in his eye, which you dismiss with an annoyed huff and a roll of your eyes, reaching towards the door handle to get out and walk over to your house instead.

“Come on, Y/N,” he calls for you, “are you still mad?”

“No,” you snicker, shrugging as you move towards the front gates, his figure quickly catching up to you as he grabs your wrist, halting you in your movements.

“I’m sorry. Let me make it out to you?” he mumbles, looking at you with eyes big and deep like honey, and suddenly, you’re a putty under his touch– just like always, you cave in– as you sigh, following him inside. You don’t miss the victorious pep in his step as he leads you inside, his hand still in contact with your arm, only letting go when you get to his room and he leads you to sit on his bed.

“Wanna play something?” he asks, thrusting a PS5 controller into your hands, not really leaving you much room for disapproval. Grunting and rolling your eyes at him, you watch as he opens up It takes two, your characters running around the split screen trying to figure out the way around.

The silence between the two of you is cruciating, suffocating, even, as neither of you have enough courage to open up the topic again. Tugging at your bottom lip, biting off the dry skin up to the point it bleeds, you sigh and turn to the boy again, putting the controller down. “Is this your way of making it up to me?” you ask.

Cocking his head to you, he shrugs. “I mean, I had a different idea, but that’s up for a discussion…” he mutters, the suggestion of his words making you roll your eyes at him, in disbelief of the fact that he still has the audacity to tease when he knows you’re clearly upset with him.

“Okay, I’m… really sorry, okay?” he says when he registers your mood, sighing to himself and running a hand through his hair. “I kinda fucked up, and I realise that. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re stupid, or anything– come on, I always cheated off you on exams, after all– so, I just- it came off wrong, is what I’m tryna say,” he concludes, looking at you hopefully, his face seemingly in tune with the words coming out of his mouth.

Humming, you shrug, not really knowing what to say. The apology settles a little in you, noting that at least he acknowledged that he fucked up, and so you pick up the controller again and avert your gaze from him. Seeing as his character refuses to move, you look at him from the corner of your eye, raising your brows in question.

“So you forgive me?” he asks, licking his lips in nerves– the action making your eyes travel down to the plump rosiness, involuntarily following his action. His glistening mouth has your gaze wandering around his body, eyes focusing on things you’ve been purposefully ignoring the whole day– the way his forearms show off in his short-sleeved shirt, the way his hair is parted in a way that shows his forehead in the most strangely attractive ways, and also the ever-so casual demeanor of the male. Chuckling to yourself, you shrug, taunting him.

“I dunno,” you mumble, “how can you make it up to me?”

And again, Chenle gets the hint– he’s not stupid, after all.

Slowly lounging himself towards you, making you drop the controller to his sheets, you close your eyes in expectancy of his touch, already so used to the rhythm of his lips against yours. His hand holds your jaw in place, firm kisses pressed to your yearning mouth, you try to remember the way his touch feels– just in case you have to give it up soon again– a selfish action of your body as you thread your fingers through his hair.

Lips ghosting over yours, he snickers against them as he speaks. “You taste of blood,” he notes.

“Shut up,” you mutter, taking matters into your own hands as you lock yourself to him again, pressing shaky, hurried kisses to his lips.

He finds a better place to attach them to, though, as he gently pushes you towards his mattress into a lying position, traveling towards your jaw and your neck. His touch never stays long enough to leave a mark– at least not in places visible for everyone to see, saving you a lot of explaining to your parents and your friends– but the kisses still leave you breathless and yearning for more, hands traveling down his back and humming in pleasure.

“Missed this,” he speaks against your skin, breathless, “so much.”

“Missed my body or me?” you ask, a hint of bitterness on your tongue.

“A bit of both,” he smirks, gently sucking on the skin of your collarbone, leaving you to squirm under the feathery touch. Hands traveling up under your shirt, his fingers trailing across your belly and the curve of your hip, you’re left shivering under the contrast of the heated atmosphere and his stone-cold hands, giggling when he presses an unusually sweet kiss to your cheek in between the more risky ones.

“And which one did you miss more?” you tease, locking eyes with him as he hovers over your body, plopped up by an arm on either side of your head.

His eyes glimmer as he stares you down, cocking his head to the side. “I miss when you didn’t talk,” he says, leaning down again and taking your breath away with a kiss, a displeased grunt meeting his lips as you disapprove of his snarky comment.

In the sheer second where you two break away for air, his hands undress your top, leaving you under him just in your underwear, a position you two have found yourselves in a number of times before. Still, it leaves you shy away under his hungry eyes, only relaxing again when his raven locks tickle the underside of your jaw, lips attaching to every inch of your now exposed body, not afraid of bruising the skin you always keep covered, out of everyone’s eyes. Sometimes, you yearn for him to plant a lovebite to your jaw, to the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, wanting to show them off to everyone and claim the boy as yours– you know you don’t have that power, though, when Zhong Chenle will never be yours and the bruises of desire are always hidden away from everyone, like a dirty little secret; much like what you two have going on in the first place anyway.

“You know,” he mutters against your skin, in between the kisses that have now grown lazier, “I was starting to get a little crazy when you ignored me. That was a first,” he says.

Snickering, hands once again finding their place in his locks, you shrug. “Was the first time you deserved it.”

“Does my opinion really matter to you that much?” he asks, chuckling as he presses another kiss to your skin, to a place a few inches below your collarbone.

“We’ve been friends forever,” you say, “‘course it does.”

“Well, then you should’ve known that as your friend,” he huffs, lips pressed against your skin, “‘m not looking down on you.”

Humming, you let him work his magic as his lazy kisses inch closer to the fabric of your bra, his other hand playing with the fabric of it, twirling the little bow in between your breasts in his fingers as he leans on one of his plopped-up hands, looking at you from the side.

“Guess I was just more curious about what you wanted to do after school, y’know,” you say, the conversation flowing despite his hands all over you, “before you called me a nepo baby, of course.”

He chuckles at your remark, rolling his eyes at you as his finger trails up your side, your skin growing goosebumps under his touch. “Dunno yet. Why do you care?”

“Wanted to see how far we’re gonna be,” you say, the moment suddenly growing more intimate. The relationship you two have was never inclusive– you two had sex sometimes, sure, but you never once told each other this was more than that. You two were just mere fuck buddies, childhood friends that found sexual attraction in each other somewhere along the way, and while that was enough for you for a while, you found yourself growing anxious of the fact that he was never going to be fully yours. And with the growing anxiety– the smallest remainder of your worries that overtake you in the middle of the night sometimes– your throat closes up on itself when you choke out the next words. “Wanted to see how much time we have left together.”

His hand settles on your hip, his eyes bearing into yours with a newly found heaviness in them. Furrowing his brows, he licks his lips in nerves before speaking up. “Well, I’ll always be your neighbor, so you can find me when you come back. Unless we move, y’know…” he jokes, an airy laugh coming out his lungs that doesn’t meet the expected intention of easing the situation.

You chuckle– but there’s not a hint of lightheartedness in the gesture, quite the opposite, really– as you avert your gaze from him, your head lollying to the side when you try to hide your slowly, but surely growing red eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

The hand on your hip squeezes the skin under it, his figure now fully hovering over you again, eyes desperately wanting to meet yours. A finger gently pressed to your chin makes you turn your head back forward, his worried gaze bearing into you, and for a moment, you two only stare into each other’s eyes, frozen in time.

And again, Zhong Chenle isn’t stupid.

But for a second, he acts like he is.

“What are you talking about?” he chuckles. “You’re scaring me.”

And when you don’t give him an answer, but instead chew on the inside of your cheek– another place to bleed after you bite down too hard from the nerves crushing you from the inside– he seems to finally get the hint, an airy laugh full of disbelief meeting your ears. Having figured it out, still, he speaks it into existence– as if he needed a confirmation; 8 words tormentingly escaping from between his swollen lips.

“You don’t have feelings for me, do you?”

Sniffling, you shut your eyes close at the question, your silence a clear answer to your childhood friend as he peels himself off you, the feeling of cold air on your exposed skin like a painful slap to reality. You stay like that for some time, mentally counting seconds, each hammer of your heart in your chest like a threat to your existence. Finally, the silence is broken by a determined, yet a little weak sentence coming out of Chenle’s mouth.

“I think you have to leave.”

Numb, you follow the orders.

July 25, 2020 – Ning Yizhuo’s room, Shanghai, 6:11 PM

“So I was right all along?” Yizhuo snickers, eating from the bowl of almonds she has settled in the free space between her lap and her crossed legs, staring at you with the hydrating sheet mask on her face. You heave out a sigh at her comment, rolling your eyes as you fall back into her soft mattress, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s all you got from this conversation?”

“Almost,” she mumbles, but nudges you with her foot right after, “I’m joking. I was listening, I’m just… shocked that I was actually right and that you were fucking my cousin all along.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not happening anymore, so you don’t have to be disturbed,” you grunt, wondering why you actually told the girl in the first place, regretting the decision perhaps the most right now. Yes, she did bug you for the last few weeks about the reasoning behind your attitude, and the fact that you refused all the invitations to hang out with your friends in fear of seeing Chenle were starting to get a bit suspicious, so you figured you can’t hide it anymore and that Yizhuo was bound to find out either way sooner or later. And still, you think you needed a bit of girl advice too.

“‘m not disturbed,” she mumbles, voice suddenly considerate, “I just- the whole situation is all kinds of weird and fucked up right now.”

“Tell me about it,” you chuckle, the bitter taste on your tongue never leaving despite trying to drown your sorrow down in sweets. “I fucked it up, Yizhuo.”

“Now, that’s just not true,” she sighs, putting the bowl of almonds to her coffee table and laying next to you, reaching for your hand and swinging it around in failed acts of encouragement and affection. “It’s not your fault he freaked out and made it weird.”

“I made it weird!” you mourn, breaking away from her grasp and dragging your hands through your hair in frustration, the feelings bundling in your stomach making you feel like acid is just bound to shoot out of the crevices of your insides, throwing up from the stress and despair. “I’m moving across the world the next month and I won’t see any of you for a long time, since Jun is moving to Korea and you’re gonna work in your parent’s company as well as going to uni here, and instead of spending the last moments of summer break together, I fucked it up and made everything weird and awkward just because I had to fall in love with my childhood best friend. While we’d been fucking. Isn’t that fucking great?” you huff, closing your eyes shut with the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks at your own words falling from between your lips.

“We are spending time together right now, though,” Yizhuo tries to cheer you up, her pout heard in her tone.

“There are millions of different ways you’d love to spend your time with me instead of moping because of your cousin,” you note, sighing, “and I don’t even fucking know what he’s gonna do after summer break, and now, I won’t get to know.”

Yizhuo grows quiet next to you, suggesting the thickening atmosphere. Turning on your side to see your friend with her eyes glued to your figure, you chew on the inside of your cheek. She sighs, preparing herself for the mental tangent she’s gonna bring you on, and reaches over to smooth down your messy hair.

“You know, Chenle never really liked… this life,” she says, shrugging, “he hates shopping, he hates hearing about investing, he hated traveling so much when you and your family didn’t tag along… At every family reunion, he just hid away in his room and never got out, because he found the whole situation snobby and fake and all those adjectives I’ve never really thought about calling my own relatives. He… he…” she licks her lips, trying to come up with the right words to say, “he sees the world around us with different eyes, and I don’t think he’s happy with it. So don’t- don’t be mad at him for not really… going anywhere with it, okay?”

Furrowing your brows at her, you shake your head in confusion. This is perhaps the first time you really realized Chenle’s view on things– it’s not like you haven’t heard his annoyed rants about all the prestige and over-the-top lifestyle you all have, but that’s all you thought it was. Annoyance– because at the end of the day, your life is comfortable. You wouldn’t want it any other way. If money moves the world around, you were the one walking through every hallway, all opportunities opened up in front of your eyes; and you don’t think you’d enjoy your life more if you had a bit less money. Chenle, on the other hand, seems to be quite the opposite. His joy is not determined by money, and for the first time in your life, it seems like you’re getting what he’s been talking about your whole life, the words you heard but never truly listened to. It was right in front of you the whole time, but you never saw it, and now that your eyes have been opened, you find it hard to deal with the revelation.

“But what is he going to do?” you gurgle out, confused.

“I don’t think he knows either,” Yizhuo shrugs, “he’s… figuring out things, I suppose.”

Chuckling, you shut your eyes in despair, thinking for a bit, but still failing to grasp the situation. “I don’t get it. He- he could have everything, but he’s just… throwing everything away? He could move across the world, he could start his own company, he could buy a house or work or study, but he just won’t,” you ramble, “I don’t get it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Yizhuo shrugs, “but he sees it a different way.”

Laying flat on your back, eyes glued to the ceiling, your friend clears her throat and awkwardly shuffles around her sheets. “And at the end of the day, even though you’ve been friends for forever, I think you’re just in love with the version of him that you’ve created in your head. The version that you’re trying, but cannot fix,” she notes, pausing for a moment before proceeding, “the only person you can fix is yourself.”

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right. Maybe you fell in love with the Chenle in his sports car, Chenle in the golf cart with his designer clothes on, Chenle on the cruise ship sipping on expensive alcohol. Maybe you fell in love with the version that has the whole world in the palm of his hand, the version of him that goes to Yale with you and rents out a luxurious apartment in the middle of the city, kissing you behind the tall windows, watching over the busy streets– the version in your dreams, the version you wanted to achieve.

But what about the version of him that walked you to your house after tennis class? What about the version of him that cuddled you in his sheets, the version of him that fell asleep soundly when you played with his hair, cradled your fingers through his scalp? What about the version of him that scared you in the dark, because he knew you get creeped out too easily, the version of him that ate cheap sausage with you in Japan, the version of him that studied with you and brought you to your bed when you fell asleep at the table? What about the version of him that cried to Disney movies with you, the version of him that danced with you to the tunes of One Direction in your room when you were sixteen, the version of him that threw rocks on your window in the moonlight the night you turned seventeen, wanting to be the first one to wish you happy birthday before slipping inside of your room in the middle of the night, only to fall asleep seconds later, huddling your sheets?

Did you make that up? Was that not him in the first place?

And maybe, there is a discrepancy between the dream you’ve made up in your head with him, the idea of you two staying together, trying to fix the view he has on the world you two live in, but at the end of the day, none of it was a lie.

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right; you should change the way you view things to match Chenle’s better, because at the end of the day, maybe you’re the one too blinded by the gold and silver around your neck to see the real issue here.

August 2, 2020 – Lehai Villas, Baicheng, China, 10:15 PM

When you finally see Zhong Chenle after the night he kicked you out of his bedroom, both of you are a mess.

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense. Your dress is neat, the jewelry on your neck was carefully picked out days before, the heels enveloping your feet are one of the most comfortable ones for you to walk in, since you prepared yourself for being on your feet the whole evening. Your makeup is fixed on your face, earrings dangling off your ears and your purse matches the outfit perfectly; your hair in a fancy updo that you even drove to a hairdresser for, all so that you could look flawless for another one of your parent’s gatherings. Their business partner’s son is turning 21, and while it doesn’t look like that big of a deal, they are celebrating the fact that Mark Lee is now one of the shareholders of their company– and in your world, this is the most moving moment of the child’s life.

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense– you keep looking around, restless, not really paying attention to anything anyone is saying. Aimlessly humming and picking at the skin of your cuticles, you try hard to both catch a glance of your friend, and to also avoid him at all costs. The reality that Zhong Chenle is a mess too hits you only when you finally see him– his tie loose on his neck, a grunt escaping his throat that you can hear from all the way to where you are, his walking a little wobbly and his hair messy as he runs his hand through the sprayed-down locks, his composure disheveled and so obviously out of the place.

And you want to stay away, you really do– to let him deal with his own things by himself, to pretend you weren’t cautiously looking for him all evening– but when he picks up another glass of alcohol from one of the tables and downs it in one go, cheeks getting rosier by the minute, you wonder how far you can let him go until he gets into trouble with his parents; and suddenly, you’re on your feet, just like you expected, dragging your figure closer to the one you’ve been trying to avoid.

“Don’t you think you’ve drunk enough?” you mumble when you appear behind him, his shoulders slouching at the tone of your voice. When he looks around and catches your eyes, he snickers to himself, shrugging, before he makes a face full of disgust at your remark.

“We’re celebrating, aren’t we?” he says, “Mark Lee’s a big man now, taking all the responsibility for a company that’s so great, and he loves the job so much,” he continues, over-exaggerating every word, “and we’re here to celebrate his birthday! Have you… seen the motherfucker anywhere, by the way? Would wanna congratulate him on… the thing…” he trails off, dramatically scratching his head as he speaks the last words.

“Chenle–”

“Right! We are celebrating a guy we don’t even know, or seen the whole evening, but that’s so great, because at least we have all this alcohol–”

“Okay, you’re getting out of here,” you snap, shaking your head at his antics and digging your nails into his forearm, dragging the boy out of the crowded place before he throws a tantrum. With how his voice was getting louder and louder, a few figures turned to watch your exchange, and you can’t imagine the turmoil this will take on him once his parents find out– it’s better to get him out of there before he messes up even more badly.

His feet stumbling on the stairs outside, he mutters something under his breath as you drag his half-limp, half-stubborn body through the enormous land. The gardens are full of fairy lights and adults talking to each other in hushed whispers, laughter erupting out of their put-together figures every now and then, and you take some time before you finally manage to find a silent corner in one of the carefully mowed gardens, Chenle’s complains silencing after a while, admitting his fate.

Carelessly throwing his body towards one of the benches, the lighting dim in the corner, you watch as he takes a seat and looks at you with defeated eyes, the emptiness behind his gaze breaking you on so many levels you didn’t even think you could master; Zhong Chenle is a mess– has been a mess for a while now, and you didn’t notice– you didn’t do anything about it until now.

“What happened to you?!” you yelp out, voice betraying you somewhere towards the end of the sentence, sounding more desperate than you intended. Eyes scanning over his slouching body, you notice him playing with his fingers in his lap, an action of calming himself down that he’s picked up after you slapped his hands every time he tried to bite on his nails growing up, and you take a few steps around the place, running your fingers through your carefully styled hair.

“Don’t scold me like my mother,” Chenle grunts, rolling his eyes at your composure.

“No, Chenle, because I don’t get it,” you shake your head, looking him dead in the sparkless eyes, “I do not get it.”

When he offers you no explanation, rather just gazing your whole body up and down, eyes half-lidded, you presume he’s a bit out of it– the alcohol truly hitting his system now, making you result in a little tangent of yourself, because you presume everything’s better than his parent’s scolding, and maybe he just needs someone to wake him back to reality. “What happened, Chenle? What the actual fuck is going on lately? You don’t speak to anyone about it, you don’t tell me, out of all people–” a snicker leaves his lips to this, making you huff in frustration, “you don’t tell anyone how you’re feeling, and it’s eating you up from the inside, and believe me when I say, Chenle, it’s pretty damn heartbreaking to watch.”

Looking at him, you’re offered nothing but silence. His cheeks are rosy and puffed up from the alcohol, his frame is small– opposed to the power stance he usually takes– and you don’t think you’re getting a conversation from him any time soon. Ready to give up, you shake your head at him and scoff. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to talk to me, since you have an issue with the fact that I care about you more than I should,” you snap, agreeing to be petty with him, if this was how he was gonna play.

“I don’t talk to any of you, because you wouldn’t understand,” he says, voice almost a bit annoyed, tongue dipped in bitterness.

“We grew up together, Chenle. Our lives are pretty much the same, why the fuck would you think that I, out of all people, wouldn’t understand?”

“See, that’s the thing,” Chenle catches you off guard, charming in with an argument barely before you are able to finish the sentence, “our lives are pretty much the same, yet you love it. You fucking love it, all of you do– you love waking up in your little fancy bedrooms, doing great at school because if you don’t, your parents are going to threaten you with disowning you– and what else do you have if not your parents wealth that you coincidentally, also despise at the same time? You go shopping to your favorite mall with your equally wealthy friends, because you’re not allowed to befriend people that are lower class– that would just look fucking embarrassing in front of your parents’ contacts, wouldn’t it? You go to charity events and birthday celebrations of a guy you’ve never seen in your whole life before, just because someone told you to– and don’t you dare tell them you won’t go, because how the fuck are they gonna look all pretty in front of their business partners if their only son doesn’t attend a celebration of someone inheriting a share from their parents’ company– a thing you’re supposed to do as soon as you turn 20, if you don’t attend university they picked out for you instead. You go on fancy holidays and take pictures in front of all the attractions, and it doesn’t even feel special anymore, because you do this every month– and the only time you ever felt alive was when you were drunk and making out with someone that you shouldn’t even think about in that way in the first place, because it’s your parents’ friends’ daughter, and at the end of the day, they would just love the fact that we were together, because that could strengthen the business bond they have– the only reason why they’re friends in the first place, and I’m so fed up, I hate it, I despise it–” he stops to take a breath, his eyes getting glossy,

and suddenly, you’re helpless, you’re falling apart– because the issue is so much bigger than you anticipated and you don’t know how to do anything about it.

“And I don’t fucking feel real, Y/N, I don’t, and I don’t think I ever have, because I just wake up in the mornings and then somewhere along the way, I realise I’m alive and I laugh, because how could all of this be real? How could the money be real? How could anything be real, and– and it’s so confusing, because I should be grateful, but I’m not, because I can’t even fully grasp it,” he breathes, tears now streaking down his cheeks.

It feels like the whole world stopped for a moment; it feels like you are in a movie and someone pressed pause. You stare at him, you blink, and you pray for something to send you strength to deal with this, to tell you what to do or how to comfort him– because this must have felt so alone, and you can’t stand the image of Chenle ever being lonely.

Opening your mouth and closing it, you gasp for air. No words feel suitable for this kind of conversation, and so you just chime towards him– despite all your best assumptions– and hold him. Because at the end of the day, what helps more to ground someone back to earth than human touch?

Pads of your thumbs wipe at the teardrops strolling down his cheeks, every contact with the salty liquid hurting you, cutting through your skin like razor blades– because Chenle never cries, he never feels like something is worth indulging in enough to bring him to tears– and when he catches his trembling bottom lip in his teeth, you break; pulling him towards you and threading your fingers through his hair, the action once lullying him to sleep now used like a broken mantra– please be okay, please relax, please let me hold you until you’re glued back together again.

“I dunno what to do,” he shrugs, his head resting on your stomach, voice burrowing itself into the fabric of your expensive dress, “dunno where to go. ‘Cause Jun’s leaving, and Yizhuo’s gonna be busy with everything, and– and you’re moving across the fucking ocean, and I’m just– I turned everything down, because–” he says, voice breaking, and you shush him with a pat on his back, touch growing more affectionate.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I got you,” you say; words he once told you at the golf cart, looking after you, or in the hotel room back in Japan when you were 6 and falling asleep, still scared of ghosts appearing in your bedroom– and you believed them, you always did, because Chenle was always there when you needed him– so you only pray he finds comfort in the sincere phrases, because what more is there to offer him?

His breathing grows steadier as you continue to play with his messy hair, his hands gently allowing themselves to wrap around your thighs, your standing figure shelved between his legs, and he laughs to himself, the whole situation kind of ironic to him now. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. ‘m kinda numb, you know, so it doesn’t even really hurt in the first place,” he says, and you wish you found the same humor in it than he did– or at least the bitter sense of soothing yourself with irony– but you can’t. Looking down at his body, latched to you like a lifeline, you wonder how you could ever leave him there alone, to deal with the burden by himself. How could you ever move so far away from him?

“My parents wanted me to go with you,” he starts, the sentence sparking up something inside of you, but he doesn’t pull away and meet your eyes when he continues, foreshadowing a sad ending to your hope, “they said I should study business at Yale as well, that it’s a great opportunity.”

You don’t reply to him, choosing not to push him. After a sigh, he continues. “And I didn’t get in, because, naturally, I was too stupid for it in the first place– no, I was–” he says when you gently slap the back of his head at the comment, “but then they paid the dean and suddenly I was allowed to go. Can you believe that?” he snickers bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Bad mouthed you for a thing I despised in myself, when you were the one that got in fair and square in the first place.”

“‘s okay,” you mumble, compassion dripping off your words.

“And I turned it down, ‘cause I hated the fact that they did that. I was okay with studying the fucking business program, even though I despised it, I was okay with moving across the world, because at least you’d be there, y’know, but I couldn’t bear the fact that they did that to get me in. I think I was too ashamed, too embarrassed, because they had to pay for me to get there, but– I don’t know…” he trails off, and you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“It’s okay to take opportunities that are presented to you, Lele,” you mumble, “I know you hate it, but you can’t change who you’re born to. The best you could do is to not waste all of this,” you say, trying to find a source of light in the deep abyss of his thoughts.

You try hard to solve the problem– to offer him a solution that could work, that could let him forget about the pain for at least a second– to wake him up from whatever deep thinking that got him into this mess. You try hard to solve the problem– but you don’t know how to deal with it. All you know is that you’re trying to pick up the patterns; you’d fit in his skin if you could, you’d crawl in and fix everything– but at the end of the day, as Yizhuo said, the only person you can fix is yourself.

“Bought,” he says, fixing your mistake, “opportunities that were bought for me. I couldn’t do it,” he says.

Huffing, indulging in a spare second of your own pain– a spare second of the despair eating you up from the insides, the helplessness you’ve been feeling ever since you were forcefully kicked out of Zhong Chenle’s life– and you didn’t even tell him you loved him in the first place before he got stuck in the fire of the woods; before you two started acting like it didn’t matter and always ended up in feuds– you mumble a comment, voice barely louder than a whisper, but he can hear it because of the closeness of your bodies in the few stray raindrops that come over you two once the clock strikes midnight.

“We could’ve lived together, you and me,” you say, “us against the whole world,” you comment– a childlike yearning spilling out of your lips, “we could’ve gone to Yale together and you’d figure something out along the way. Maybe– maybe you’d find a purpose if you moved, we could–”

“Y/N,” he shushes you, uttering out your name, finally breaking away from you as he looks up and gazes into the swimming pools of your eyes, shaking his head with a faint smile, “‘s okay. It wouldn’t have fixed anything anyway, it– it wouldn’t have helped.”

“But–”

“You can move, Y/N, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re taking yourself with you.”

August 20, 2020 – the backyard of your childhood house, Shanghai, 11:11 PM

You were never really that good at science– sure, your parents demanded you get good grades in every subject and your private school put quite the pressure on your education, but even though you always managed to pull satisfactory marks in exams, your understanding of the logistics sometimes lacked; you were much better at humanities or business-related courses, hearing enough at family dinners to find out your way through the lectures and apply the facts into examples from real life.

So, if anyone asked you how many stars there were in the universe, you wouldn’t be too confident in your answer. You wouldn’t know how to apply the Milky Way as your model– since it was said that it has around 100 billion stars alone– and multiply the part by the amount of galaxies in the universe– approximately 2 trillion– to get a number somewhere close to 200 billion trillion, also called 200 sextillion.

You wouldn’t know how to do any of that, or how to even count this amount without a calculator, so you’d take a more liberal arts approach– literary, even– and say, that on August 20, 2020, at 11:11 sharp in your backyard, gazing on to the deep, dark sky and wishing for a star to fall so you could propose a selfish wish that could change everything, there’s still not more stars there than in Zhong Chenle’s eyes when your gazes meet after your friends leave for the evening, leaving you with your neighbor completely alone.

And it’s strange, seeing him like this– maybe because you didn’t even realize how used to the dull and emotionless Chenle you’ve been all this time– but it warms something inside of your heart as you take a hesitant step towards him, the first one out of the whole evening, and take a seat next to him in the corner of your terrace, sighing to yourself.

“You actually came,” you note, seeing as he turns to you and furrows his eyebrows at you in confusion.

“Should I not have? I mean, by the text you sent me, it seemed like you wanted me here, but if I misread the situation, I can go…” he snickers, teasing you just the slightest as he nudges you to your side.

You hum, shaking your head in disapproval. “No,” you say, “I just… I dunno.”

“Expected me to ignore you?”

“Kinda,” you admit, snickering.

“Damn,” he giggles, “that’s fair, though. Considering the previous events, and all.”

Rolling your eyes at his composure, finally getting used to the old Chenle– the one that teases you over the smallest things, the one who doesn’t let his emotions show in his face– you watch him as he takes a seat on one of the rattan sofas and you follow him, body slouching next to his, feeling his head gently rest on your shoulder in the mere moment of silence between your two figures.

“Wouldn’t let you leave without seeing you for the last time,” he says, voice quiet and vulnerable, “god knows when I’ll see you again.”

“Chenle–”

“Just because you don’t want to talk about it doesn’t mean it’s not real,” he snickers, already knowing where your words are going– you’re going to try to stop him, tell him you don’t want to think about it right now, on the last evening at your house for the near future.

“I’d rather not think about that, y’know,” you huff, frustrated. The anxieties of leaving everything behind are clenching on your insides right now, holding you back from moving freely and with enthusiasm, and you wonder– if you knew how this would feel all those months ago– if you knew how terrifying and painful the whole process could be, would you still apply to Yale? Would you still want to go?

“Okay,” he dotes, tone of voice casual, like it’s not a big deal.

“Okay? Just like that?” you snicker, surprised at how easily he gave the topic up.

“Yeah. Don’t wanna make you sadder.”

Sitting in silence, you realize there’s so many words you’d like to say to him. You’d like to tell him just how much you’re gonna miss him and how you regret ruining the last few months you two had together, and how you’re sorry your feelings scared him to the point where he felt like he had no one to confide in. You’d like to tell him how you built a future with him in your brain, carefully placed him into your reality, only for him to break away from your grasp and go his own way, and how much it hurts, but how you’re always going to support him in whatever he chooses, because you care for him more than your little heart could take. You’d like to tell him how you’re gonna call him every day to check up on him, how you’re gonna send letters and press a secret kiss to each sheet of expensive paper you’ll get downtown, wishing he could feel the essence with the growing distance between you two. You’d like to ask him to visit you often– he’s gonna have more time on his hands, and god knows money’s not the issue. You’d like to selfishly tell him you find it hard to deal with the distance, and how you wish he wouldn’t find somebody else while you’re gone, and how you so dearly hope that somewhere in there, your feelings are silently reciprocated, but hidden away in fear of everything falling apart once again.

But instead, you don’t say anything. You tend to wait for him to speak up first– he’s always had a problem with talking too much in the first place, after all.

And he does– you can still predict his next moves. You know him that well.

“I’m gonna miss you, though,” he sighs, catching you off guard by saying something from the list of your silenced words, “don’t think that I won’t. Or that the way I’ll miss you is different than the way you’re gonna miss me,” he speaks, tone of voice laced in honesty and sincerity, his words heavy with the essence of what he’s never going to say out loud– or so you think.

“In what way?”

“I’m not gonna miss you like a friend misses a friend,” he says, “and I don’t mean the sex,” he snickers, brightening the mood with his comment.

Rolling his eyes at him, you feel him lift his head up from your shoulder, forcing you to look at him and meet his starry eyes again– the damn starry eyes that always make you spill the truth, because god knows you cannot lie to him– and you find yourself scanning his features, the structure of his bones you fear you’re gonna forget when you’re away, so desperately wanting to lock your lips with his for one last time, because when you come back one day, you may not have the right or chance to do so anymore.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, not a hint of teasing in his voice.

“You know why, Chenle.”

“Can you say it out loud?” he demands, and you shake your head– maybe it's best if the words are left unsaid. Doesn’t matter if they’re hanging in the air, for everyone to read.

“Why?”

“You know how I feel about you,” you snicker, “don’t make me say it out loud.”

Because even if you told him you loved him, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make it all better, it wouldn’t make it all good– no matter how hard you wish that it would.

“Okay,” he nods, agreeing too fast again– and with that, he smiles, the gesture so soft and sudden, and there you are– you’ve got a caving heart in your open arms, and Chenle takes it, carelessly choking out the hushed confession, “I’m in love with you. If you don’t say it, I’m gonna, because… you deserve to know.”

Heart sinking into your stomach, you watch him, frozen in your place, for a while. Your eyes carefully scan every curve of his face– the curve of his lips, the curve of his cheeks, the hood of his eyes, his brows, the thousand stolen galaxies in his orbs and mouth glistening like honey, inviting you in. Snickering under your breath, you choose to not give in to the temptation.

“You’re only saying that because I’m leaving tomorrow,” you say, shaking your head.

“Maybe,” he agrees.

And you know that– you know that if you weren’t leaving, he wouldn’t tell you that he loves you. He wouldn’t allow himself to be this vulnerable, he wouldn’t tell you how he feels about you, because he had all this time– all those months and weeks spent with you in his bed, and you know his touches weren’t just shallow desire– and he never once said anything. He didn’t do anything about it, and now that there is nothing more to do about it, nothing that could change the trajectory of either of your lives, he chooses to speak it to the universe; because it doesn’t change anything, it can’t possibly do so– and so he doesn’t have to fear the consequences, he doesn’t have to fear the attachment that comes with such confession.

And for a minute, you think it’s selfish. You think it’s laughable, ironic, even, but you accept it.

His hand reaches for yours, interlocking your fingers with his when he launches you forward into him, arms gently enveloping your body when your head settles itself to the curve of his shoulder. You stay like this for a while, in his hold again, breathing in his scent and trying to remember it for weeks and months before you’re able to smell it again, letting out a nosy question out of your lips– and truly, you don’t know why you do so, when you know the answer to it already anyway. Maybe you just want to hear it again.

“So… you do have feelings for me too, after all?”

He stays quiet for a while, before he softly laughs into your hair. “Yeah,” he nods, “but it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re leaving for Yale tomorrow, aren’t you?”

And he’s right– you are. Thinking for a while, feeling him place a shy peck to the crown of your head– the only kiss you two allow yourselves at this point of time– you come to the conclusion that even though you love him, care for him like you’ve never cared for another before, you wouldn’t change a thing about your plan– wouldn’t change the trajectory of your whole life, wouldn't stay in Shanghai, wouldn’t drop out of university, wouldn’t stop everything because of him, because in a way, you strangely have it all figured out.

And he doesn’t.

And you pray that one day, he’ll find the purpose in all the potential he holds in his hands.

#nct dream #chenle #nct #nct x reader #chenle x reader #chenle angst #chenle fluff #chenle oneshot #chenle fic #chenle imagine #chenle fanfic #chenle best friends to lovers #chenle au #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream x reader #nct fluff #nct angst

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ghoststyles · 19 days

Text

Meet Me In Augusta

A quick little check-in for Fairway to Heaven ❤️ inspired by my beefy hunky man at the Masters 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

SMUT. FLUFF. That’s all.

———————————————————————————

When Briar and Harry first got together, she thought she’d won the lottery. A doting, strong boyfriend who puts her needs above his own. He cares for her dog as much as she does, gets along with her family members, and donates to charity regularly. It’s like the heavens handmade him. And yes, the reverse is true on Harry’s part. She’s his dream girl, and the bloody best thing to ever happen to him. But, where he’d truly won the lottery differs slightly:

He won tickets to the Masters.

It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to attend one of the four major golf tournaments, and when Harry entered his name in the lottery system the year before, he never thought he’d see the day where his bucket list item would be checked off.

Briar is lounging on Harry’s couch, watching old episodes of Real Housewives (NY, obviously) with Gus at her feet and a bowl of popcorn and M&Ms beside her when she hears a completely manly and dignified shriek from Harry’s office. Sitting up in alarm, she opens her mouth to yell back to him, to make sure he’s okay, just as the heavy oak double doors swing open. Shirtless and in his Calvin Klein boxer briefs and socks, Harry sprints down the hall, phone in hand as he leaps over the back of the sofa to stand beside her.

“What on Earth! Harry, you’re scaring me! Is there a mouse? Where are your clothes?” Briar screams, jumping up to crouch on the sofa and cocooning herself in her blanket in case there’s a spider clinging to him.

Harry is laughing maniacally, and every so often an oh my god leaving his mouth. He nods to whomever he’s talking to on the phone as if they can see him before thanking them and hanging up.

He drops the phone, eyes wide and meeting hers. Grabbing her shoulders, he all but tackles her back to the sofa, signaling Gus to bark at him for hurting his mom. They’re on the settee part of the sofa, Harry’s arms wrapped around her, preventing her from moving, even if she wanted to.

“Harry! Tell me what’s going on right now!” Briar’s shrill voice finally brings him back to Earth.

He peppers kisses on her neck before shouting in her ear, “I’M GOING TO THE MASTERS!”

She doesn’t respond, not because she’s not supportive of his enthusiasm, but because she has no idea what that is. Feigning a smile, she replies, “wow, baby, that’s great!”

Craning his neck, his brows furrow when he meets her gaze, a clear indicator she’s confused.

“Birdie, do you know what the Masters is?”

“Mmmm, is it like MasterChef?”

Harry squawks out a laugh, shaking his head, “No, my love. The Masters is one of the big four golf tournaments for the PGA. When you win, you earn a green jacket and become a member of Augusta National in Georgia. And then you get to plan a celebration dinner. Plus, you win like, $3,000,000.”

“Ohhhh, okay, yes. Uncle Patrick has gone to that, I think. He didn’t win, though.”

Harry’s brows furrow even more, a bewildered look gracing his features, “We’ll come back to that later. I have a lot of questions. But, you enter a lottery to win tickets and I won! Otherwise, tickets are almost a million dollars.”

“A million dollars!? The course better be made of solid gold. I can’t even believe the stuff people spend their money on sometimes.”

“Tiger Woods will be there. He hasn’t played in a few years because of injuries. Baby, I could be near Tiger!” he smacks her ass, eliciting a yelp.

He hops up from his spot on the sofa as he looks outside with the biggest smile on his face, running his hands through his not-so-there curls on his head. He’d shaved it a few months ago impulsively; that was a crisis Briar never thought she’d see the other side of. But his peach fuzzy head grew on her.

“When is it?”

“Second weekend in April. Are you doing anything?”

“Me? Why wouldn’t you take Niall?”

“He and Lydia already have a wedding that weekend back in Ireland. I already asked him.”

“So, I’m your second choice!?” Briar smacks the sofa cushion beside her, faking offense.

Harry rolls his eyes, “You didn’t even know what it was five minutes ago, brat.”

She parrots his eye rolling, leaning down to snuggle Gus. They’re quiet for a moment, letting Harry soak in the news.

“Wait, why don’t you have clothes on?”

“Oh, I stripped them off as they were telling me I got the tickets. I was just too excited,” he responds casually, as if the answer is obvious.

———————————————————————————

So the pair is in Augusta, Georgia, watching Harry’s childhood dream come true. The problem? No phones allowed.

To maintain their traditional values, Augusta National banned the use of cellphones. Briar’s lovely boyfriend failed to remind her of this fact until they were in the back of an Uber heading to the course.

“No phones!? I wanted to document this whole experience for you!” She whines, gently squeezing his wrist.

“Thanks for wanting to do that, Birdie, but it’s okay. My generation isn’t addicted to their phones. We like to live in the moment.”

“Oh my god,” she snorts, punching him lightly. If anyone is on their phone too much, it’s Harry. His entire day is determined by solving the New York Times Connections puzzle. What do you MEAN the theme was ice cream flavors without the last letter?

“What if we get separated? How will I find you?”

“Did you pack your leash?” Harry smirks, waiting for her to smack him again.

“H! Quiet,” she snarls, trying not to look if the driver is listening. “Fine. Do they collect the phones or do they just kick you out if they see it?”

“I think they kick you out and you’re not allowed back, ever. There’s also no running. It’s hilarious. When everyone is trying to follow around the big names, it turns into a speed walking competition to try and beat them to the hole.”

She hums, looking out the window at the gorgeous scenery. She hasn’t spent much time down south, but this trip has changed her opinion of this part of the country. They’ve had beautiful dinners at night on patios and taken walks on historic grounds.

“Good news is, the food and drinks are super cheap, and I think you have some French 75’s calling your name.”

“Yesss!”

The Uber turns, the beautiful gates to the course opening as they pull in. The white building before them is gorgeous and neatly kept, embodying the prestige of the entire event. For a moment, she thinks Harry is tearing up. Harry snaps a photo of the two of them in front of the building to send to Niall and Patrick.

He grabs her hand and squeezes gently as he flashes their credentials to the security guard.

“Lead the way, baby,” Briar whispers, linking her arm with his as they stand outside the car, taking it all in.

Like a kid in a candy store, Harry drags her by the wrist, slaloming through the crowds of people as they all try to make it to the entrance.

Harry looks fucking good today. He’s donning a navy blue sweater on top of a cobalt blue golf shirt. His taupe pinstripe pants are pressed perfectly. His fingers are decked out in rings of all different finishes, and his Prada sunglasses fit his scruffy face perfectly.

The finishing touch, his shoes, are what has Briar giggling to herself. His black Hoka sneakers are throwing off the whole vibe. She tried to change his mind as they packed, but we’ll be walking a lot, and I don’t want my plantar fasciitis to come back!

To make the occasion even more special, Briar let Harry pick out her outfits. She knew he’d pick out her lavender sports dress, a classic piece she whips out when they play on weekends so he’s frustrated and thrown off his game. She’s 3 for 4 on this strategy.

Harry loves the way it cuts at Briar’s strong thighs, and shows a little bit of her back. To elevate the look, she tied a white Hermes scarf around her neck just like Daphne! Her shoes are white Vince Camuto sneakers with no support. She knows she can’t whine later if her feet hurt, in fear of hearing a relentless, I told you so!

Before examining his choices in her suitcase, she zeros in on the lack of underwear and bras. She knows he also picked her floor length, black bodycon dress. He’s really pushing the limits of voyeurism with these picks.

They finally make it past security, thankful they didn’t confiscate her purse, a gift from Harry that is just a smidgen too large for their rules. He leads them to the main clubhouse to grab their first drinks of the day, and maybe even a breakfast sandwich.

They start off with mimosas to ease into the day drinking, because Harry is too fucking old for daydrinking and Briar is a menace when she drinks when the sun is up. By their third round, Harry is full on fangirling as all the players buzz around him. He’s allowed to fangirl all he wants, but when she wants to gush about One Direction for a minute, he covers his ears. Eyeroll.

Briar snaps out of her brattiness, deciding she needs some food in her stomach. As they’re gathered on the 8th hole, she starts to “koala” him, as he so lovingly calls it. She wraps her arms around him from behind, laying her chin on his bicep.

“What’s wrong, Birdie? Hungry?”

Briar lightly bites his arm, looking up to meet his sideways gaze. Part of her hates how well he knows her. She slides her hands in his front pockets, making him wiggle uncomfortably.

“Be good,” he says lowly so only they can hear.

“Okay, Daddy,” she says sweetly, smiling up at him. “But yes, I’m hungry.”

Briar can feel him hesitate, clearly conflicted in what to do next.

“Okay, baby, but,” he pauses. “Tiger is at this hole next, and I’d really like to see it.”

Briar slumps, making a slight hmmph sound. She knows better, and knows how important this is to him, so she shakes it off.

“It’s alright, I can go back to the clubhouse by myself. Will you stay here so I don’t lose you?”

“Of course,” he leans down to gently peck her lips, before his head whips around as Tiger arrives at the tee box just a few feet from them, sending the crowd into a chaotic roar. She reluctantly lets go of his waist, crossing her arms over herself as she walks away.

The crowd has only increased as they arrived, and she’s honestly overwhelmed. A staff member nearby can sense her unsettled demeanor, so he asks if she’d like a ride back to the building.

She smiles at him, “Yes, that’d be lovely! Thank you so much.”

Trey, the worker, doesn't say much, but Briar isn’t one for awkward silences. She tells him about Harry, Wynnewood, and how this is a lifelong dream for him to be here. He nods along, visibly recoiling after finding out Briar isn’t single. She hops off the cart as they approach the doors, and waves a friendly goodbye.

Perusing the snack bar, her eyes are bigger than her stomach. She grabs grapes, potato chips, a turkey sandwich, and even a pudding cup. A nice man helps her condense her items into a cardboard box for carrying. She grabs a fresh squeezed lemonade to finish off her deliciously simple lunch.

Slightly tipsy and overly giddy, she finds a bench to start eating. It’s amazing the different walks of life at this event; the die-hards who don’t care about the glamor of it all, and the ones that are here only as a status symbol. It’s honestly nice not having her phone; she’s a little more in touch with her surroundings.

Taking small bites of her sandwich, she’s startled when another man approaches her on the bench.

“Pardon me, miss. Are you Miss Barlowe?”

Taken back, she nods as she swallows her bite, “Yes, can I help you?”

“Mr. Styles is on the line over there,” he points to the hilariously old fashioned phone stand, where 3 mossy green phones hang on the wooden stand. “He just wanted to make sure you were doing alright.”

Briar smiles, patting her mouth with her napkin and rising to her feet, “Thank you so much. Do I have to do anything to connect to the call?”

“Just press # and it should connect. I’ll be right over there if you have trouble.”

She laughs to herself as she approaches and presses the ‘#’ just as he said, “Hello?”

“What are you wearing right now?”

“Who is this?” She plays along.

“Your handsome, charming boyfriend,” he muses.

“I have a few of those, so you’re going to have to narrow it down,” she fakes a sultry tone.

“Briar – come on, you know I don’t like those jokes,” he mutters.

She laughs, twirling the curly phone cord around in her hand, “I feel like Carrie Bradshaw with this phone, talking to one of my boyfriends.”

“Are you insinuating I’m Mr. Big? I’m Aidan at the very least. The good guy.”

“Of course you’re Aidan. But instead, we get married.”

“Yeah, y’wanna marry me?” Harry can’t contain his grin as he looks around to see if anyone can hear him. “I won’t say yes until you come back here and get down on one knee, Briar.”

“In your dreams, Styles. Why’d ya call anyway? I’m just sitting here eating my sandwich.”

“Just missed you. Tiger got a birdie on this hole, so it made me think of you.”

“Aw, you’re cute. You’re the first place boyfriend today. You were in third yesterday, for reference.”

“Glad to hear that. Finish up your lunch and come find me. I’m gonna go to the 17th hole to try and catch Justin Rose. He’s an old friend from home.”

“Okay, I’ll come find you. Love.”

“Love.”

Briar hangs up the phone, the butterflies in her stomach buzzing. Since returning home from California, she’s never felt so secure in their relationship. He’s balancing fatherhood, work and their everyday life with ease.

Readjusting her skirt, she walks back over to the bench, mouthing a thank you to the worker who let her know Harry was calling. She sips on her lemonade, the ice rattling as she finishes the cup. Tossing the remnants of her meal in the trash, she spots the beverage cart girl. Briar smiles as she approaches her, requesting another French 75 and a Casamigos on the rocks for her lover.

The 17th hole is a hell of a lot closer to the clubhouse, but swarmed with people. It’s going to be a needle in a haystack to find him. Briar scrunches her brows, scanning all the kinda old white men with brown hair. Where is her old man?

Panic sets in for a moment, until she feels two hands on her waist, lifting her off the ground slightly and kissing her neck where it meets her shoulder.. She squeals, reaching for her skirt to make sure nothing is showing. He didn’t pack her any underwear, after all!

“There y’are, Birdie. Wish I brought your leash to drag my cute puppy around. Make everyone jealous.”

“They’d think you need to be sent to jail, actually. Were you able to focus in my absence?”

“Yeah, but I missed your hundred questions and commentary. Is that for me?” he asks, pointing to his drink.

“Yes, but you made me spill it on my shirt,” she frowns, her gaze traveling down to the beads of liquid wicking off the fabric on her chest.

Without a second thought, Harry leans down, pressing his mouth to just over Briar’s nipple to suck up the dribbled liquid. Her eyes widened, in disbelief he just did that. She grips the back of his hair, pulling him out of her bosom.

“H! What the hell are you doing? We’re in public!”

“Mm, I know. I’m so hard right now. And thirsty. Saw an opportunity,” he smirks, his grip now around the back of her neck. “Wanna take you to the clubhouse and fuck you dumb.”

“Harryyy,” Briar whines again. Little does he know all he has to do is slip her skort to the side to reveal her soaking wet pussy. She does her best to drag her six foot tall boyfriend to the treeline, hiding themselves from prying eyes.

“Let’s go. We’ll find somewhere safe. Daddy needs you to do a favor for him,” he says low in her ear, his tongue touching her earlobe. “Did I tell you how happy I am that you came with me?”

“I’m happy you invited me,” she places a gentle kiss on his lips. “Love seeing you happy.”

———————————————————————————

The lovey dovey talk is how Briar got HOODWINKED into sucking her boyfriend’s cock in an administrator’s office at Augusta National Golf Course at the biggest event of the year. The door locked, thankfully, but the amount of foot traffic outside the door has Briar’s head spinning, even more than when his tip touches the back of her throat.

Harry lets out a guttural moan, “Oh my – fuck! Such a good fucking girl.”

Briar is pulling out her signature moves; cupping his balls with one hand, tweaking his shaft with the other when her mouth doesn’t cover it, and swirling her tongue along the ridge of his bright red, plump cockhead.

Briar bats her eyelashes and pulls off just as he gives his sign of completion; his left thigh muscle twitching. Harry’s eyes shoot open as he grips the desk to prevent himself from falling over. He was so, so close.

Before he can speak, Briar stands, pushing him to half lie on the desktop, opening his belt and pants wider. She climbs on the desk to straddle him, staring down at him deviously.

“Wanna ride you, Daddy,” she whispers in his ear. She sits back up, pulling her skort to the side to show him her pussy, spasming and begging to be touched. He reaches out to touch her, but she bats his hand away, instead placing her hand around his neck firmly. “Nope. No touching.”

Harry snorts, knowing anytime she’s tried to be in charge, she fails miserably. He knows she’ll be howling for his help in a few minutes. His smug look is wiped clean as she grips his cock again to line him up with her dripping hole. They moan in unison when he pushes through the tight opening as she squeezes him for good measure.

Briar bounces lightly, the skin of their thighs slapping together. She could listen to the sounds their bodies make for the rest of her life. He bottoms out a few times, puffs of air escaping his nose as he struggles to not cum immediately.

She starts to rub at her clit, her free hand coming up to tweak her nipple. His eyes are closed again, so she takes her middle and ring finger that are rubbing and sticks them past his lips. He moans, lapping up the wetness from her fingertips and choking on them a bit. She smiles before bringing the fingers back to her center and continuing to rub.

“Oh my god, baby. You taste so good,” Harry whines. “Want you to come. Then I’ll come in your little pussy. Don’t know how you’ll hold it all in there.”

Briar cries out, seconds away from tumbling over the edge. She leans forward, gripping the desk above his head. They’re making extreme eye contact now, the tension between them palpable.

“I’m cumming, Daddy. I’m cumming. Your cock feels so big in my pussy,” she cries out as Harry feels a tiniest bit of wetness expelled from where their bodies meet. She twitches, barely able to hold herself up. He sits up on the desk to support her and begins thrusting up into her with his hands wrapped delicately around her body, fingertips digging into the plushy skin of her ass and waist. He captures her lips in a deep kiss, her breath stuttering when he rams himself back into her.

The two remain intertwined, reality hitting them when Briar utters words he never thought he’d hear from her.

“Fuck me, Daddy. Fill me up. Make me yours. Wanna have your babies,” she fires off things he can’t even comprehend. “Want you to make me a mommy. Fuck – want it so bad. Fill me up, please!”

Harry’s breath is knocked out of him as he throttles upward, his tip colliding with her cervix every time. As he topples over the edge, he buries himself in her pussy – his eternal resting place, he’s decided he’ll request in his will – and releases his full load into her. He drops backwards, beginning her down to lie on top of him, his pants now hanging around his ankles.

“Oh my fucking GOD, baby. So fucking good for me,” he says into her ear, a shiver running down his spine.

“Love you, Daddy,” she says quietly, her ear pressed to his chest so she can hear his heartbeat racing.

��Love you so fucking much, Birdie,” Harry sighs, petting her back.

Harry smiles to himself. The diamond ring he has in his bag at the hotel is going to make an appearance even sooner than expected.

He’s sure of it.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles imagine #Harry styles smut #dom!harry #daddy!harry #agegapfic #Harry Styles golf #golfrry #one direction imagine #daddy!h #fth h #fairway to heaven #harry styles x oc

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sungbeam · 8 months

Text

nonidol!eric sohn x f!reader

you won't think golf is a boring sport after he's done with you! (but it's not about golf, and it's not about swings. just a young heir with money, love, and a thing for you.)

▷ genre, warnings. technically s2l, country club au, summer break au, starts with him already into you, slight pining? idk, fluff, humor, rich people™, golf lol, swearing, drinking, kissing, it gets like actually romantic, Eric Sohn bc he's so attractive someone help me.

▷ word count. 11.4k

▷ inspired by swing my way (cha cha malone & phe r.e.d.s)

a/n: my submission for the deoboyznet summer on you event! and @mosviqu who implanted the idea of country club rich boy eric into my brain @@

It wasn't like Eric Sohn, heir to his parents' multi-million dollar investment firm, prized shortstop of the UCLA baseball team, planned to spend his entire summer charming his parents' clients and partners. A summer spent at the Beverly Hills Country Club wasn't something new for the young heir either. The rolling, emerald green hills for golf; the clean cement tennis courts; the dim and classy bars were all ingrained in him since childhood. They were environments Eric had learned to thrive in, and when one had the advantage, one was always taught to wield it like a blade.

At least, that was what he was taught. Over the years, he'd also learned that his extroverted personality and charming smile were disarming—and his pretty boy appearance often resulted in others underestimating him. That was their mistake.

"...that trip to Taiwan will be such a great opportunity to explore the relationship between our companies."

Eric clasped Mr. Thomas Tsaur's hand in a firm shake as the two men stood at the final hole of the golf course. Eric beamed. "Yes, of course! I know my mom would love to see the night markets around Taipei; my parents have been looking forward to the trip all year," he said, as easy as breathing air. Of course, he didn't really know if his parents were looking forward to it. If he was the one on his way to Taiwan instead, he knew that he himself would be ecstatic.

During business meetings—and meetings that weren't officially classified as business, but were definitely about business—Eric tried to stay as true to himself as possible. Once in a while, some of the persona he'd built up slipped through the cracks, but there was a reason he liked baseball more than business.

Mr. Tsaur made a pleasant reply back about promising a fun-filled tour of the city with his wife, and the two of them were splitting up. There were offhanded comments about seeing each other for dinner when Eric's parents finally arrived, but that was all that was left of the interaction.

Eric jogged down the hill toward the conventional path where a white-topped golf cart sat waiting for him. His driver and caddy companion for the day was Jacob Bae, a regular worker here at the country club whom Eric had known for at least a couple years now.

But instead of just Jacob and the cart, Eric found that someone else had joined the group.

You sat in the second row of the golf cart with a circular serving tray pressed over your lap. Like some of the other staff members at the club, you wore the standard black, collared shirt and black skort. He'd seen you around this place plenty of times this summer and even greeted you once or twice, but he knew you were new.

Oh, trust that he knew a new face when he saw one, especially when said face was as pretty as yours. The only shame was that you were often assigned to areas where Eric didn't exactly frequent, but he never took himself as the type to give up easily.

You and Jacob were sharing a laugh as Eric approached the golf cart with his golf putter in hand. "Hey guys," Eric chirped.

All the attention flickered over to Eric, but he couldn't stop staring at the way the slight breeze this afternoon was making your hair fall in your face all pretty. Even in a braid, the little strands fell out to frame your face.

"Oh, hi Eric! How was the last round?" Jacob asked as he twisted around in his driver's seat to watch Eric round the back to put his putter away. You had shifted in your seat slightly to follow him with your eyes, as well.

Eric slid the stick into his bag and caught your eyes. His smile widened. "It went well. Same old, same old," he chuckled, bracing a gloves hand on the roof of the cart. "When'd you get here, Yn?" He asked you with a nod of his chin.

You perked up at the sound of your name. Cute. "Ah, just a few minutes ago," you said. You sheepishly gestured to your empty tray. "Haknyeon dropped me off a few holes over to deliver drinks, and then I saw Jacob over here and walked over to catch a ride back to the clubhouse."

"I can't believe he just ditched you," Jacob chortled.

Eric circled around the cart to take the seat in the front beside Jacob. "He ditched you?" He frowned, leaning his arm over the back of the seat to look at you.

As the cart began making its smooth return down the path and over a small bridge, you smoothed your braid over your shoulder. "No, no! He didn't ditch me; we were just headed in the same direction until we… weren't," you mused. "I mean, if Cobie wasn't here, a walk back wouldn't have been the worst thing anyways."

"I guess," Eric agreed, biting his lip. "So, uh… ever played golf before?"

"Golf? It's been a while, but yeah, I've driven the occasional golf ball across a green."

From the driver's seat, Jacob slapped his right hand down on Eric's shoulder. "Yn-ie! This guy's one of the best casual golf players you'll probably ever meet. His swing? So clean."

Eric chuckled, clasping a hand on the back of his neck, when he felt your attention flicker back to him again. "I'm no pro…"

"I'll have to see that for myself then," you said with a smile.

The golf cart slowed to a stop in front of the doors into the main kitchens of the clubhouse proper. Because this main kitchen was so large, they were given their own set of doors directly to the outdoor courts and beyond for easy access. While Jacob would drop you off here, he would have to continue onward for Eric's proper spot.

You clambered out of the golf cart, poking Jacob in the shoulder as you went. "Bye, guys! Thanks for the ride, Cobie."

"Bye, Yn!" Both boys chimed together. When you disappeared behind the swinging kitchen doors, Jacob pulled the cart back onto the main road to carry onward.

Eric settled into his seat to face forward once again. He lifted the cap off his head and carded a hand through his hair to let the strands, dampened with sweat, dry a bit. "I didn't know Yn was allowed to work the golf range," he commented as innocently as possible.

Jacob made a small humming noise. "Yeah, we're short a couple people out here because of the Ferndale event going on down by the gazebo."

"She wasn't sent there?"

"Did you want her to be sent there?" Jacob grinned slyly at the young heir, who turned his gaze elsewhere.

Eric coughed. "I didn't say that."

His companion still would not wipe that knowing smile off his face, even as he slowed the golf cart to a stop and Eric hopped out to collect his equipment from the back. "I didn't say you did," he snickered as Eric walked away.

He didn't give Jacob the satisfaction of an answer, instead, saying a "thank you" for driving him over his shoulder, before ducking inside the clubhouse locker room.

Jacob shook his head in amusement and began making his way further down the path to return the cart. Silly, silly kids.

You didn't realize country clubs were real until you were sitting in the office of the Beverly Hills Country Club's hiring manager and being hired. That was about a month ago, and no, you still didn't believe it was real. The entire training experience, in fact, had swept through like a fever dream.

The summer season had just begun, though, and they had taken you on in a rush of desperation. You hadn't failed to notice how relieved the hiring manager looked when you told him you'd worked as a waitress at an upscale wedding venue before you moved cross-country, and knew how to carry a drink platter and dirty dishes. That was part of the reason you'd been hired on the spot. You'd also mentioned your extensive knowledge of how to fold cloth napkins into swans, and you liked to think that was your true selling point. (Don't ask, the last part was because you had been very bored while waiting in the backroom during a wedding.)

And while you cared little about cleaning pools or catering to rich prick egos, you did care about the crisp green bills that graced your eyes with more frequency than a Superman actor on Hollywood Boulevard. There was also the possibility to gain some more experience in the dining and catering world; if you were lucky, you could butter up your manager to let you help out in the kitchen some.

After all, that was why you were here so far from home.

"Yn, you've got company at table five," Haknyeon said as he passed by you on his way into the kitchen.

You gave a nod out of instinct. You brushed your hands against your black waist apron, absentmindedly reaching up to also smooth out the black vest on your upper half. Usually when you worked at the club's restaurants and bars as wait staff, your uniform consisted of a white button down under a black vest, followed by a black skirt and apron. It was classy and chic, and definitely added to the expensive atmosphere.

You could see table five in your section up ahead. It was a little early into dinner service, but there were still people who came in. To your surprise, the company at table five was none other than Eric Sohn himself, along with two others you recognized as his parents. They were dressed casually—meaning semiformal. It was something out of a dinner cruise, with Eric's dark brunette waves styled effortlessly messy and the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone to reveal the slightly bronzed, toned skin beneath—

You cleared your throat, plastering a smile on your face as you approached the table. "Evening, everyone. Mr. and Mrs. Sohn," you gave a small greeting bow to his parents, then swiftly doled out little napkins for their drinks. "It's nice to see you on the grounds again today."

"Oh, Yn! It's very nice to see you this evening," said Mrs. Sohn with a delicate flourish of her wrist.

"Yes!" Mr. Sohn chimed in, "What have you been up to? Eric says he saw you on the golf range today."

Your eyes darted to Eric's, then went back to his parents when you realized his eyes were on you. You laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and bracing the end of your serving tray against your waist. "Oh, uhm, yeah! I was just summoned down there to get some drinks to the Santos family—you know them, right?"

Recognition lit up in Eric's mother's eyes. "Yes, yes! Marina and her kids! Ah, well that sounds nice; I'll have to see if I can bump into her at the spa or something. Eric gave you a ride back in his cart, didn't he? The walk back is awfully far."

You nodded. "Yeah, of course. He was with Jacob, so I just hopped in the back and rode back with them here."

"I still owe you that golf date," Eric cut in smoothly, the hand with his Rolex draped over the back of his chair. His smile was casual, innocent, the kind that so easily could make anyone do his bidding.

"Golf date?" His parents glanced curiously between the two of you, and you felt heat rush up to your cheeks.

"It was just an offhand comment," you said sheepishly. "Jacob was telling me about how great of a golfer Eric is and I said I wanted to see his swing some time." Before anything else could be said on the matter, you tucked your tray under your arm and replaced it with your notepad and pen. "Can I get you anything to drink? An appetizer to start?"

That drew away the conversation promptly. It wasn't like you were uncomfortable with the idea of going on a date with Eric Sohn, it just wasn't that simple. Though the club officially encouraged good relationships between staff and club members, they didn't exactly encourage the romantic kind of relationship. Obviously, it would be impossible to enforce a no-entanglement policy completely, but you wanted to stay on your manager's good side.

You nearly folded in half over the counter of the tiki bar at the pool. Sweat streamed down the side of your face, and you were pretty sure your baby hairs looked akin to a lion's mane under your white baseball cap. Thank god the club didn't force you to wear a black colored hat instead; the black polo and skort were death enough.

Jacob chuckled as he passed you a clean, damp towel that had been soaking in ice water. "Before you get heat stroke," he said, then returned to preparing a tray of drinks someone had ordered at the hot tub.

You thanked him profusely, dabbing your face and neck with the cool blessing. "Sheesh," you groaned. "I think I need to reapply my sunscreen soon. How are you out here all the time, Cobie?"

He grinned with a half-hearted shrug. "Well, I work with cold drinks and I'm under the shade. And—" he tapped the handy little fan clipped to one of the structure poles of the tiki bar, "—this beautiful work of engineering."

"I need one of those umbrella hats and squirt bottles kids bring to Disneyland," you grumbled and plucked yourself up from the bar. You returned the towel to Jacob so he could toss it into the soiled towel bin on the other side of him. You watched as he finished up filling the tray and whistled at the pool waiter who had ordered it for the group at the hot tub.

As the waiter walked away with the drinks, you thought aloud, "How could they stand to be in the hot tub in this heat?" From here, you could see the group of girls gathered in the bubbling jets of the hot tub at the far end of the pool in their bikini tops and Gucci shades.

"They're not standing—they're sitting."

You sent Jacob an unimpressed look, to which he simply smiled wider.

"Hey guys!" Ji Changmin huffed and puffed as he collapsed onto the barstool next to you. He had a towel hanging around his shoulders and a white sweatband holding up his dark bangs dripping with sweat. "Can I get an ice water, hyung?"

"Yeah, man," Jacob said, already dumping a scoop of ice in a cup.

"You alright there, Changmin?" You glanced over at the club's dance instructor with barely concealed amusement.

Changmin took the corner of his towel to dry the dribble of sweat making its way down his forehead. "Whoever thought it was a good idea to do hot Zumba in the height of summer needs a reality check. I think I'm dying."

As one of the country club's primary dance instructors, not only did Changmin lead all of the dance activities on the grounds, he was also supposed to take over any dance aerobics classes like said hot Zumba. You knew it wasn't his favorite, but it was still funny to make faces at him through the window as he did can-can kicks in leg warmers with all of the rich moms.

You leaned down to check if he had the leg warmers on. He did not. At least he finally had the good sense to break uniform.

Jacob slid over an ice-cold glass of water, and Changmin drained it like a man who trekked through the desert for seven days. You glanced at Jacob's digital clock on the counter behind him—he kept it so he could be on time for all of his breaks.

"Oh shit," you said, quickly fixing your cap and adjusting your hair, "time for me to get back to work."

Changmin straightened. "Where are you stationed today, Yn-ie? Chanhee and I wanted to come pick you up later for dinner before we have to come back."

"That's right!" Jacob slapped his palm to his forehead. "We have to all be back here for the banquet. I almost forgot, damn it."

You cocked a brow at him. "Wow, you, Jacob Bae, almost forgot about the major event all of our jobs are riding on that's taking place tonight?"

A smile curled onto your face when Jacob narrowed his eyes at you. "Don't you have work to do?"

You let out a laugh and began backing away from the tiki bar and your friends. "Kim has me at the ice cream bar until the end of my shift, Changmin. I'll catch you boys later!"

Jacob and Changmin raised their hands in twin waves to you as you walked away. If you remembered the time on Jacob's clock correctly, you had about fifteen minutes to get up to the indoor ice cream bar for your shift.

Tonight, the country club was hosting a banquet for one of the business men here. It was supposedly one of the most important events for the club's reputation, so it was all hands on deck. Everyone from Chanhee at the spa to Haknyeon in the kitchen were called upon to clock into work once again tonight to help out. You were glad you weren't a part of the set-up and takedown committees, but you were expected to wait on the banquet. Jacob was supposed to be bartending tonight, as usual, and your other friends and coworkers would be waiting alongside you.

You glanced up on your walk out of the pool area and nearly tripped over the soles of your sneakers.

Coming in hot (literally) were none other than Eric Sohn, Lee Hyunjae, and Lee Juyeon—all of whom were very much shirtless. Swim trunks hung low on their waists, their stomachs carved like triplet Michaelangelos. Seeing shirtless guys at the pool wasn't new for you, but these guys were actually around your age.

Eric saw you first and waved. "Yn, hey!"

"Hi guys," you greeted back with a shallow nod of your head. "Nice day out for a swim."

"I know, right?" Hyunjae raised a hand to shield his eyes from the unforgiving summer sun. "You must be baking in that uniform, Yn." He raised his chin to gesture at the all black attire.

"I don't suppose you'd be able to join us?" Juyeon smiled. He knew you probably couldn't join them because you were clocked in, but he had always been pretty nice nonetheless. He and Hyunjae were cousins, and the Lee family was well-known around here for being big names in the legal sphere, as well as being one of the larger families. There was another cousin of theirs around their age running around here somewhere, too.

You gave a helpless shrug. "Duty calls, unfortunately."

"Yn, hey wait—" Eric caught your attention as you were about to continue walking up toward the main clubhouse. He flashed you that smile again, the one that made your stomach do flips and would convince you to do flips for him if only he asked. "You won't happen to be working at the banquet tonight, are you?"

"How'd you guess?" You replied good-naturedly. "Why do you ask?"

He began walking backwards toward the direction his friends had drifted off to, his smile tilting up slightly. "So I know which cologne I should wear."

And it definitely wasn't a trick of the summer sun that made you see him wink at you.

"He's into you."

"He is not—" you wrestled your sleeve up your forearm and made a frustrated noise when the button would not go through, "—into me."

Chanhee gave you a nice, slow eye roll just so you would see it, and he yanked the sleeve away from you so he could roll it up himself. "A lot of men around here like smelling nice, but no one pulls out the Acqua Di Gio just for the service girl or a business banquet," he hissed as a fellow waiter rushed past you two in the narrow corridor. "Jesus, why is this button such a bitch?"

"That's what I'm saying," you hissed back at him as the two of you both struggled to fix your sleeve. "Not the cologne thingy—I hate how you're able to just take a whiff and name the cologne. What kind of demon nose do you have?"

Chanhee sighed and collapsed against the wall opposite to you when he finally managed to get the sleeve right. The two of you were currently on break, not hiding, in this corridor. In T-minus two minutes, you would both have to be back out in the hustle and bustle of cleanup or after-party drinks in the lounge. Because the main course had finally been served, a lot of the waiters were allowed to go on break. The banquet thus far had gone relatively smoothly, other than the fact that when you had served Eric all of his courses, he'd made sure you practically melted on the smell of his cologne.

It wasn't your fault you had to bend down close to him to not spill the hot food. And it wasn't your fault that he chose to put his mouth right to your ear when he told you a joke, masking it as asking for more water.

You couldn't decide if you were going to giggle or let your knees buckle at that moment. Thank god you managed to laugh behind your hand and hustle away before anyone noticed.

But that was besides the point. The point was that Chanhee had also passed by Eric, caught the faint trail of Aqua De Whatever, and connected some dots.

"If you want a demon, you talk to Changmin," he said. "I just know my shit. And I also know that you only break out the Acqua Di Gio when you want to attract someone, and based on the fact he's currently seated around about fifty other businesspeople…" Chanhee made a wild, desperate gesture with his hands, eyes widened. Are you getting this? He seemed to ask. Because I will smack you if you aren't.

You fanned yourself, justifying it by thinking about how hot the back hallway was and this outfit was, rather than admitting that it was because Eric was hot. "Okay, okay. Come on, we have to get back out there," you said, already turning your heel toward the door.

"I'm just saying that clearly he's been trying to tell you something," Chanhee added as you both broke out of the hallway and into the kitchen. He grabbed a circular serving tray from a stack on the counter next to him to hand over to you.

"Well, what do you suppose I should do with that?"

He pressed his lips into a thin smile, taking hold of a small, empty cart and pushing it ahead of him. "Just keep an open mind, darling."

You and Chanhee separated at the kitchen doors out into the banquet hall. While he would be a part of cleaning up, you needed to head over to the next-door parlor where the party had moved post-dinner. Business would continue as usual, just with a few more drinks and pool involved.

The parlor room was arguably one of your favorite rooms in the club with its cozier atmosphere created by the evergreen walls, tiffany-shaded lamps, and dark oak furnishings. It was also outfitted with a hearth (unused during the summer and spring) and a billiards table. Most of those who had chosen to stay had migrated with a certain crowd of people they planned to continue chatting with. Your job, as well as the few others recruited to the parlor, was to be a fly on the wall until somebody needed something. If tips were passed around, you were free to pocket them.

You were probably standing and waiting for only five minutes before you saw Eric stand up from where he was on the far side of the room. He shouldered his suit jacket off and draped it over the back of his armchair, exposing the white dress shirt and black vest beneath. Whew, he was wearing a full suit to this event? You wondered how he even survived, but all conscious thought flew out the window when he caught you staring and started smirking to himself. The smug, little expression stayed etched into the sharp planes of his face even as he strolled over to the pool table and lined up his shot.

You wondered—and it was just a thought—what it'd be like (possibly) for him to lean over you—

"Excuse me, miss?" You shook out of your daze and remembered why you were here. Unfortunately, it was not to admire the young heir watching you from the other side of the room, but to serve guests.

For the next couple of hours, your job was exactly what you did. You had been so focused on running back and forth from the bar in the other room and back that you always seemed to have missed Eric trying to catch your eye again. If he wanted drinks, he had to suck it up and ask someone else who just happened to be near him instead.

As the evening dwindled into a sweet, humid night, the amount of guests also began to trickle down. You had grabbed a rag on your way back to the parlor room and said goodbye to your coworkers on their way out. Some still lingered for last minute clean up, and though you were technically done for the night, you wanted to wipe down anything you had missed. It was something simple that you could do to help out a colleague, and it wasn't like you were in a rush to go home.

When you walked back into the parlor room, however, you blinked—surprised—at the sight of an individual left. He leaned against the billiards table, one hand holding the edge of the suit jacket draped over his shoulder and the other scrolling through his phone.

Eric glanced up from his device and pocketed it at the sight of you. "Hey."

"Hi," you said back. "Uhm, can I get you anything—"

"Oh, no no. I'm good." He shook his head, pushing off from the table. He shot you that signature boyish smile of his and your heart began doing cartwheels. "I just wanted to ask if I could give you a lift home."

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Truthfully, you were caught off guard, stunned. This wasn't what you were expecting from him.

He saw your hesitation and let out a sheepish laugh, cupping the back of his head. "Sorry, this is so out of the blue. I… it's a little late out right now, and I didn't know if you had a ride or not. I know you're not usually scheduled to work so late."

"You know my schedule?" You blurted. Though, the thought did warm you and amuse you.

His eyes widened. "I mean, uhm, definitely not in the creepy, stalkerish sort of way! I uh, I like to think I pay a lot more attention when it comes to you." His admission didn't do much to slow the racing organ in your chest cavity. You always saw Eric Sohn as one of those smooth and collected young men who were born to charm. But seeing him flustered and tripping over his words because of you?

You ducked your head slightly, flattered and most definitely charmed still. "I'd really appreciate a lift home, Eric."

You both shared a smile in the slightly dimmed, slightly warmed lights of the parlor room.

Once you had finished glossing over the surfaces of the parlor room with your rag to catch any rings made by perspiring liquids, your manager dismissed you for the night. Eric told you he would meet you out front where he would bring his car around for you. You found yourself standing at the edge of the curb with a gentle, yet rare summer breeze wafting through your hair. You had your bag slung over your shoulder, and you grasped the strap and fidgeted with the material.

A car pulled up to the circular driveway—it was a sports car. The Corvette, sleek and aerodynamic, was doused in a shiny orange coat of paint that glimmered even in the night. The passenger side window rolled down so you could see Eric leaning over the center console and waving to you.

"Hey, hop in!" He said to you with a grin, lowering the music he was playing.

Gingerly, you walked up to the car and managed to maneuver yourself inside. The passenger seat was lined in soft black leather, and the inside of the car made it all the more easy to suffocate on that delicious cologne of his.

Eric had ditched his suit jacket and vest in the backseat of the car, leaving him in just his white dress shirt and slacks.

"Nice car," you whistled lowly as you buckled yourself in.

His mouth tilted upward. "Thanks," he said. He fussed around with his phone for a second before passing the device to you. "If you wouldn't mind putting your number and address in."

"Oh." It was a brand new contact page. You didn't question it, swiftly inputting all of the necessary information before returning his phone to him.

Eric took a peek at the address, then pulled out of the country club's driveway. You didn't live too far away from the club, luckily. It was only a few minute's drive, but the walk sometimes felt a bit longer. California didn't exactly have the most convenient public transportation system, and in an area like Beverly Hills, it was near impossible to find a reliable bus or train service.

"Any music preferences?" He asked you quietly.

You shook your head. "I'm not super picky. What you have on is all good with me."

"I have to confess, Yn," he said with a half smile, eyes darting toward you, "that I was trying to steal your attention all night."

Your stomach flipped and you suppressed the smile that threatened to crawl onto your mouth. "Really?"

He laughed. "Yeah, but obviously, your work ethic beat me out, as well as my own luck."

"Any reason for seeking me out?" He'd technically had your attention all throughout the banquet, but he had also needed to entertain and chat with the other people around him. While the after party was sometimes used for business discussion, too, the banquet dinner itself was the main event.

"I mean, besides wanting to talk to the cute girl eating up all my thoughts?"

He was turning onto your apartment complex's street all too soon. The car slid into a parking spot along the curb, and he twisted in his seat to face you. "I really want to take you out, show you a good time. It doesn't have to be something fancy if that's not your vibe; we can always start with golf."

You let the smile bloom on your face at the reference to the "golf date" you both had yet to schedule. You still wanted to see his swing, after all. "Then it's a date," you said, "I should have a free day two days from now, if that works for you."

Eric bit his lip. "I'm all yours, hon."

Before you could start doing somersaults from excitement, you resolved yourself to getting into your apartment first. "Well, thank you again for the lift, Eric. You have my number?"

He nodded. "Never losing it."

You grinned something fond. He grinned right back at you. "Get home safe."

"I will. Good night, cutie."

You slammed the car door shut and left Eric to his lonesome. Through the passenger side window, Eric watched as you disappeared into your apartment complex, safe and sound. He had almost given into the urge to ask if he could walk you up, but it was a miracle you had even taken him up on his offer to drive you home.

He pulled up your contact and sent you a text so you could have his number, too, as soon as possible. He deposited his phone into the cup holder, then punched the roof of his car with a shit-eating grin on his face. He'd scored your number and a date in one night—damn right, he did.

You had reasoned with yourself that this was okay based on the fact that you weren't on company time.

"Shoooooot," you whistled with a slight arch in your brows and applause. You tracked the distance Eric's driving shot sent the golf ball flying, and in the early morning sunlight, the white sphere disappeared over the crest of green hill.

You figured being courted by a club member during your own free time was a loophole you could live with. Especially when such a loophole looked so good swinging a golf club.

His follow through was just as beautiful as he was, his arms lifting the golf club over behind him from the arc. When he lowered the club to turn back to you, he was beaming. "What's the verdict?"

Your golf club was currently acting as your arm rest as you staked the head against the grass. "I don't know, Eric," you sucked in a breath, teasingly. "I think you could've gone pro."

He laughed then, eyes narrowed into glorious upturned crescent moons. "Thanks, cutie." He made a gesture to the tee. "All yours."

"Let me preface this by saying that it's been awhile," you were quick to say as the nerves suddenly bubbled up into your chest and made you wanna do a jittery shuffle. You should not have let Eric go first.

"No worries," he chirped. "Why don't we practice first?"

Yes, practice. Thank god he knew where your head was at.

You eagerly agreed, and set your golf ball up on the tee. Nervously, you smoothed your gloves down the front of your pleated golf skirt. You lined up the face of the golf club with the ball and pulled it back a millimeter—

Then chickened out.

"Performance anxiety," you grimaced to your date.

"Oh, well, that's okay!" Eric set his golf club down on the field and made his way over to you. "Can I help?"

Yes. "Please do," you chuckled, leaving room for him to take your club.

But instead, he shook his head. "No, no. You won't learn anything from just watching, silly goose."

He grabbed the golf club over your hands and lined both of your bodies up correctly. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his front pressed against your back. His mouth was so close to your ear again, and there was that damned cologne making you see hearts.

"Sorry, is this okay?" He asked softly.

You gulped, nodding. "Yeah. Perfectly okay." You wondered if he could feel your heartbeat quicken like a drum crescendoing. If he wasn't careful, your heart might just fall out and run to his arms.

From this position, Eric smoothly guided you through the steps of a perfect swing. The pullback was cranked over your shoulder, then the club would swing straight through, followed by the arc back over your other shoulder and the appropriate turn of your body. As he had explained to you, getting the perfect swing or shot in sports mostly came down to the follow through. If one could not back up their initial movement, then why make the shot?

"—and you turn your body—yeah, just like that," he praised as you automatically rotated yourself from the side to the front, the toe of your foot digging into the ground and turning with you. "That's beautiful."

He backed up from you then, giving you some space. It suddenly felt like you were missing something with him gone. "You should try it now!"

You took a deep breath in as you lined your golf club up with the ball again. Cranking the club back over your shoulder, you swung it down and back up again. When the face of the club met the ball, it did so with a resounding PING!, and the ball went sailing.

(That sound… mwah. The sweet, sweet sound of triumph.)

"You did it!"

"I did it!"

It hadn't gone as far as Eric's had, but it had definitely traveled farther than it would have without his help. You whirled to him, clasping his hand with yours as you both shared equally radiant smiles. A giddiness flooded into you, and no doubt into the glow of your face.

"See? Not too bad," he said, squeezing your hand.

"All thanks to you," you pointed out.

He shook his head, using your linked hands to lead you back to where your golf bags were waiting a little ways back by the cart. "Nah, you had it in you, Yn. It was just performance anxiety, as you said."

The two of you each grabbed your own bags and hiked them over your shoulder to head down the hill and find your respective golf balls. From this view, you could see that the other patrons of the club were slowly trickling out onto the acres surrounding. It felt strange to be here as not a staff member, but as a guest instead.

Eric piped up, "Is it weird that I was hoping you would ask for my help?"

"Not really," you mused, then meekly added, "'cause I was kind of hoping you would offer your help."

He looked about as happy as you felt, and he swung your hands together between you.

It hit you, then, that you were still holding hands. But you didn't let go, and Eric didn't say anything. He just helped you find your golf ball, line up another shot, and hugged you from behind like it was nothing.

From across the pond, Jacob, Changmin, Chanhee, and Haknyeon pulled up over the bridge. The four of them were all piled into a golf cart, and Jacob stopped it just over the crest. They all knew about where you were today and why you were dressed in proper golf attire rather than the country club uniform. They watched with wide eyes (and maybe a camera or two) as you and Eric had a good time.

"Young love," Jacob sighed fondly from his spot in the driver's seat.

"I think it's gross," Changmin giggled. He yelped, furiously rubbing the place on his shoulder that Chanhee had whacked. "Hey! I was kidding!"

Chanhee rolled his eyes. "Let them have their moment. I'm glad Yn-ie let herself have fun with him."

"They look like they're having quite the time," Haknyeon said. "They're cute."

Changmin poked his head in between Jacob and Haknyeon from the backseat. "Just a thought, but what if we turned on the sprinklers like in High School Musical 2?"

An exchange of looks, a deep consideration… "No," they all chorused. They would get their asses kicked for that.

You were on lunch break when Changmin practically crashed onto the bench next to you with a crazed look in his eyes. "You. Me. Spa. Now."

You couldn't even say goodbye to the sandwich you were eating before Changmin grabbed your arm and dragged you across the club.

"Changmin! What the hell—"

"I'll explain in a second!" He hissed back at you while ducking into the service entrance of the spa.

The backdoor led to a staff break room, where Chanhee was currently (coincidentally) seated on a stool eating a box of Pepero while watching a cartoon on his phone. The man glanced up from his phone at the loud commotion, one cheek full of his snack, and he blinked. "You're lucky I'm not with a client right now."

"Yeah, yeah," Changmin said, dragging you and a stool over to Chanhee at the same time. He pushed your shoulders so you would take a seat. Changmin placed his hands on his hips as he stood before the two of you. "You're never gonna guess what I just overheard."

"What?" You and Chanhee asked at the same time.

"Well, you know Clara?"

Chanhee jumped right in. "The one fooling around with that Brian Yang guy. He's the heir to that one corporation monopolizing SIM cards or some shit."

How the hell…?

Changmin's head bobbed vigorously. "Yes, yes! That's the one. Anyways—I was walking past the manager's office and they were talking loud enough to hear with headphones on. Apparently, Clara and Brian had a nasty, nasty split, and Brian got her fired."

Silence.

Chanhee's eyebrows flew up. "Like… fired-fired?"

A grave nod. "Fired-fired."

You held your head in your hands. "Just because of a break up?" You asked. "Clara is such a nice girl."

Your friend's lips were pressed into a line. "Doesn't mean he's a nice guy. I dunno—" he threw his hands in the air and let them flop back against his legs, "—it's fucked, man. He said it was, like, too awkward to be around her all the time since he was here all the time. And because his father is one of the stockholders of the country club, Manager Kim could do little but do his bidding."

Your heart had fallen into the pit of your stomach. Drama like this didn't really happen often here, but there was always something going on.

You always thought there were assholes here, but sometimes they just kept on reminding you of it.

"And now I'm fooling around with one of the club members," you thought aloud. The realization hit you, a golf ball to the face. "Oh my god."

Chanhee's hand came up to your shoulder and gave you a soothing, warm squeeze. "Eric seems like a good guy, Yn-ie. You never know."

"But you really never know," you murmured. There was a reason why the club discouraged romantic relations between club members and staff. Perhaps this time, it wasn't about work productivity, but about keeping your damn jobs. You needed this job. You needed it so desperately because of the money, the opportunities, the connections. Not to mention all of the people you'd befriended here… it didn't seem right that you were scared of what Eric could do to you, but reality was settling in fast.

The Sohns were a major shareholder in the club, which meant they could pull strings like tying a shoelace.

But Eric is good. He's been good, you reasoned.

Changmin crossed his arms as he leaned back against the wall behind him. "You should talk to him. At the very least, you only went on one date, so it's not like you're completely involved yet."

That was a good point. You were going to run with it.

When Eric invited you over to his house, you should have known you were about to drive your beat up sedan into the driveway of a palace, not a house. A house was for normal people, not whoever the Sohns were, you knew that much. To say you were intimidated by the massive front lawn, iron gates, and limestone arches and columns would be an understatement. Maybe you should have worn something nicer.

You pulled up to the curb of the roundabout—he'd mentioned to you that you could just park there. Apparently the garage was a little inconvenient for guests, but you weren't complaining. The front of the house was a marvel to look at, and wherever that garage was would have left you unable to fully soak in this modern wonder. Plus, you had some time to pull yourself together before seeing Eric.

The plan was… no plan, really. He wanted to hang out with you, and you'd mentioned your love for cooking. Thus, he proposed a miniature cooking class in his kitchen, along with dinner on the patio. It sounded nice. It also sounded great when you remembered what you needed to talk to him about. (Yay.)

It's not a big deal. Eric's cool.

You finally managed to trek your way up to the front door and you booped the doorbell. It was one of those loud bells that must have echoed throughout the house, because you could clearly hear it from the outside.

A couple minutes later, you heard the locking mechanism come undone. The door opened after; you swore that every time you saw this guy, you became speechless.

You had seen him in a dress shirt before, but this tank top and over-shirt thing was new. It was casual and comfortable, yet chic. His hair was styled in the same manner his clothing was—simple and so attractive. A silver chain and matching silver rings added the subtle touch of elegance to pull everything together.

"Hi," he grinned—he was always smiling, you realized. It was such a pretty smile. He stepped aside and gave you room in the doorway. "Come on in, cutie."

"Thanks for having me over," you said pleasantly, trying not to openly gawk at the front foyer with the sky-high ceiling, chandelier dripping with crystals, and grand staircase wrapping around the walls up to the indoor balcony.

He closed the door behind you as you deposited your shoes by the small rack. Eric wrapped a loose arm around your shoulder to guide you through the foyer. "Of course! I'm so excited you're here; I went out—actually no, I…" he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "ordered it off that grocery app. I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking for."

"Grocery app?" You laughed. "Are you talking about the stuff for dinner?"

"Yeah!"

The two of you entered the kitchen. It was a wide, open space that flowed straight into the living room. The cabinets were smooth and snow white, accented with countertops marbled with black and hints of gold. Though clean, it was a space well-loved with a recipe book left open to a lobster risotto; little candies left in a jar on the island labeled with chalk; barstools that weren't quite aligned, like they'd actually been sat on. The living room, too, was beautiful. Massive, but beautiful, with a wraparound couch sectional and a flat screen with family photos hung above it. It was framed by shelves filled to the brim with CD and DVD cases, more family photos, books, and little baubles.

And the lighting. Oh man, the natural lighting from the windows making up the entire back wall… it led out onto the acres of land his family owned, as well as a patio that overlooked the valley.

Eric had mentioned dinner on the patio. If your math was right, that meant you would probably be dining at sunset, all while overlooking a splendid view—how romantic. God, you hated how giddy you were starting to get. Those butterflies in your stomach would not cease.

"You have a really, really beautiful home," you murmured, letting him take your bag from you to place on one of the barstools.

You had always thought that big houses like this would be so difficult to fill. What was one supposed to do with so much space anyway? From the pictures on the wall, you could see Eric's parents, himself, as well as a sister who must have been out making her own mark on the world in that special Sohn kind of way. Even with just four people in this place… they still managed to make it feel like a home and not a house. It was like your own house back in your hometown, across the country. It was lived-in and warm and yours, and that was the beauty of it. And you were certain by just looking at this place that the Sohns were a family who loved each other.

How could you not believe in Eric? Not with all of this to vouch for him? He had grown up loved.

"Thank you," he said. "It's one of my favorite places to be. That's why I still haunt it like a ghost," he joked. He placed a warm hand on the small of your back and led you over to the fridge where he had put all of the grocery delivery bags in. Even the fridge was relatively stocked. "Not sure if everything I got was right, but hopefully it'll all turn out delicious anyway."

You helped him unload the bags onto the kitchen island, raising a brow at the labels on the groceries. They were on the higher end of price and quality, which definitely wasn't a problem, but holding a hundred dollar bottle of red wine just for sauce was making your anxiety levels spike. "Oh, no. It all looks great, Eric. Thanks for getting these, by the way. I would have gone out and brought them here, but—"

He waved away your worries. "You're busy and you're working. Plus, it lets me technically pay for dinner," he said with a cheeky look on his face and gesturing with a finger gun. It was cute. He was cute.

"Smooth, Sohn. I see you."

"That's what they called me in high school," he played along, dancing on his toes behind you to fiddle with his phone and turn on a speaker somewhere (you didn't know where). "Smooth Sohn."

You snorted, slapping a hand over your mouth. Eric's eyes glittered with a mutual mirth. "Whatever you say, honey."

He waltzed back over to you, tongue in cheek. "I like that better though—honey." He leaned back against the counter next to you and watched as you sorted out the ingredients in different piles depending on how they should be prepped. "So what's the plan, chef? You're the boss."

"I'd love to know where your knives and cutting boards are," you said.

He leapt into action. "Say no more!"

In reality, you did have to say more. It wasn't that Eric didn't know where everything was in the kitchen, he just wasn't as well versed in using the kitchen. He'd told you while teaching him how to hold a knife properly that he really only came in here for ramen. Good news was he could crack an egg with one hand; bad news was that was about all he could do. It was still charming, nonetheless. And the cute cooking lesson gave him plenty of opportunity to get close to you.

He had even insisted on you teaching him how to chop carrots like how he had taught you how to swing a golf club—over and around him—with your hands over his and your body wrapped around his, your chin on his shoulder.

But with dinner well past done, the two of you made your way out onto the patio just as the sun was sinking into the embrace of the valley below. It melted into the sky like a broken yolk, saturated and golden. He let you have the seat staring out into the valley. The way he looked at you though, made you feel like you were his million dollar valley view.

The table was set with twin glasses of red wine (amazing what a good wine paired with beef stew could do for the soul), plates separated by a hot stew pot, and a couple of candles for ambiance.

"Wow," he moaned as the beef melted on his tongue. "This is so good. And you're telling me you're pretty, smart, and can cook?"

You held back a giggle so you could swallow your bite. "And I'm single," you jested.

"And you're single!" He leaned his head back, eyes closed. "Thank god for that."

Eric leaned his cheek on his fist, his head cocked slightly and his eyes on you with a swoon-worthy admiration. "Thanks for coming out tonight and hanging out with me."

You could kiss him. "Please, I should be the one thanking you. It's been really fun hanging out with you." It was surreal, actually. The fact that this young heir had deemed you "worthy" or whatever to court and entertain—it wasn't like you defined your self worth by his attention and affection, but this felt nice. Your conversation with Changmin and Chanhee the other day came to the forefront of your mind.

"I, uhm, think this is a good time to ask if you wanted to do this more often? Hanging out with me, I mean."

You weren't sure if this was what you thought he was asking you. He reached for his wine glass, and in the fading sunlight and the candlelight illuminating the bashful expression on his face, your heart pounded.

"What I mean to say," he tried again after a small sip of wine, "is would you be my—"

"I think we should talk!" You cut in before you heard anymore. You were getting jittery, unable to figure out when was the right time to bring up the thing, but also, you wanted him to say his thing, and it was just a mess. But when you saw Eric's wide eyes, mouth zipped up, you repeated in a much calmer tone, "I think we should talk about something. It's not… it's not super serious or anything. I could just be overthinking."

Oh, you felt bad. He looked like a kicked puppy, but you saw him pull himself together for you. "It's—you're probably not overthinking, Yn. What's on your mind?"

The wine glass was put down. He even put his fork down.

Were you making a big deal out of this? Probably not, right? This was important, you reminded yourself. You pursed your lips. "So one of my coworkers—former coworkers," you amended, "Clara. Her name's Clara. She and this guy you might know, Brian Yang…"

He nodded. "Yeah, I know of him."

"Well, they kind of had this thing going on between them. And the other day, she was fired because they broke up and he thought it was too weird that she was working where he was hanging out all the time," you rambled on. "And I uhm, I just wanted to make sure from the get-go that… you know… it's stupid, I don't know. But it's my job, y'know? And—and I need this job, but I like you a lot, Eric. Am I making any sense?"

Neither of you were eating anymore.

You looked at him, hopelessly, searching for signs of understanding.

He leaned in slightly and reached for your hands over the table. "Yn, sweetheart," he said, lacing his fingers with yours over the pot of beef stew, "that is a valid point to bring up, and I can understand what you're probably thinking. That—that news must have been scary, or at least nerve-racking, and Brian's a dick for that—"

You nodded, swallowing.

"—and I don't want you to risk your job because of me," he said earnestly. "But I really want to see where this goes, you know? If anything happens and you don't feel the same way, then no harm, no foul. I'm not gonna take my emotions out on you like that asshole; that's not right."

The breath you had been holding in fell from your mouth, a wave of relief. A sappy, grateful sort of smile worked its way onto your mouth and you met Eric's own kind expression. "You are actually perfect," you let out a breathy laugh. "Where have you been all my life?"

He grinned. "Funny, that's what I've been thinking about you." Eric set your laced hands on the side of the table as he raised his glass to you. "So what do you say? Can we try this?"

You lifted your glass to gently clink it with his. "Let's do it."

"So he's perfect, but he hasn't kissed you yet?" Chanhee's gasp of incredulity hit you in a gust of air. His lips pursed like a penguin's beak. "Figures."

You sent him a look. "Oh, please. Figures what? He's just being… I dunno, chivalrous!"

"Chivalry is dead," Haknyeon snickered as he waltzed by you with fresh towels to lay out by the pool. "You should make the move, Yn."

"So you two are, like, dating now?" Asked Changmin as he hopped onto the tiki bar stool next to you and Chanhee. He kept on glancing down at his watch; he must have only a small break in between his dance classes today.

"They're 'seeing where things go,'" mocked Jacob with a shake of his head. He swirled a rag around the innards of a glass to dry it.

You sent them all dirty looks now. "Cobie, out of all the times you choose to be an imp—"

"An imp," Chanhee muttered, glancing away as he took a sip of his piña colada, "I'm dead."

"If it makes you feel better, Yn, I'm supervising a tennis match with him and the Lee cousins later today. I can get a feel of where his mind's at," Jacob offered.

You drummed your fingers against the bar. The offer was tempting… "It's fine," you insisted. "We don't have to rush things. We go to the same university and we live in the same city now. It's not like we don't have time… right?"

"Riiiight," Changmin drawled with an over exaggerated wink. He frowned at his watch, hopping off his stool. "Damn it, salsa class time. Catch you losers later!"

As he darted off into the distance, Chanhee sniffed. "Says the loser." He plucked the pink umbrella out of his drink and set the decoration down on his napkin. "You're not wrong, Yn-ie. Taking it slow isn't a bad thing. From what you told us, it seems like you're both on the same page now anyway."

"Thank you," you said.

"Maybe he's trying to plan a romantic moment." Haknyeon rejoined the conversation now that he had done his towel delivery.

Jacob nodded with an approving turn of his lips. "You might be onto something. He seems the type."

Your heart was fluttering as if it sprouted butterfly wings. Oh, the thought of kissing Eric Sohn in romantic lighting…

"I think you should take her back to her job before she drifts fully into La La Land." When you snapped back to reality, Jacob's eyes were twinkling, eyebrows wagging.

Haknyeon nudged you with the back of his hand and nodded up to the clubhouse. "C'mon, Yn-ie. I think Manager Kim wants to brief us on dinner service anyway."

Hours later, Jacob found himself on the tennis courts, overseeing a match between the three Lee cousins—Sangyeon, Hyunjae, and Juyeon—and Eric. He often thought it was luck that got him to land this job where all he did to pass the day was make drinks, drive golf carts, and occasionally play doubles with club members. For all that it was, he considered himself very content.

"—that was a foul," Jacob declared, jogging to go catch the tennis ball before it bounded into the bushes.

Hyunjae let out a groan. "Nooo! It hit the line. Jacob, please, I thought we were cool!"

Sangyeon shook his head, smiling as he caught the tennis ball from Jacob with his free hand. "Hyunjae, we all know your eyesight is shit."

Hyunjae wrinkled his nose. "Hey! No one asked."

"Can we take a break?" Juyeon asked, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "I think I need some water."

The boys all murmured their agreement, and Jacob reached down into the mini cooler he'd lugged out to toss them ice cold bottles of water. It was just one of the few perks that came with the club membership.

While Sangyeon and Hyunjae were bickering about eyesight and foul lines, Juyeon settled into a seat by them to referee. Eric sidled up next to Jacob as they both absentmindedly watched the chaos unfold from afar.

Jacob whistled. "So… Yn said she had a really good time with you the other night."

Eric perked up at the sound of your name. "She did? Well that's a relief to hear."

"It wasn't clear?" Jacob asked, face tilted in question. "I mean, not to completely expose her or anything, but she's been gushing about you all day, man."

A giddy smile took over the youngest Sohn's face. "She was?" He licked his lips, drawing the pad of his thumb over the corner of his mouth to catch the water that had dribbled from the bottle. "She's—she's so cute, hyung. Like, I don't know if this is weird for you because you're friends—"

Jacob coughed in amusement. "It's fine. Think of me as your guardian angel."

"Right," Eric piped up. "I think… I think we really hit it off, y'know? And I mean, she probably told you we just kind of had dinner and she had to leave, but she'd come after work, so she was probably tired and—"

Ohhh. Jacob understood exactly what was going on now. His heart warmed at the thought that Eric was being so considerate and not forcing you to stay. He was thinking about your long day, and didn't wish to prolong it anymore. Little did he know, you probably wouldn't have minded hanging around a tad longer.

"—I wanted to kiss her—"

Wait huh. Jacob tuned back in. "When?"

Eric blinked. "Uhm, at dinner. Or at least, when I was walking her out to her car." He glanced away and his smile softened at the thought. "I wish I had, actually. The moment was right there, and the lighting was perfect, and her smile—oh my god, her smile."

Jacob's eyebrows flew up to his hairline. So this was where Eric's mind was at; good to know. "Then do it—kiss her."

"Right now?"

"No! Not right now—"

"Hey, you guys ready to play again?" Juyeon called. The three Lees had already maneuvered themselves back to court.

Eric and Jacob exchanged glances. This conversation wasn't over, Jacob's look seemed to say.

They nodded to their companions, though. "Yeah, we're ready."

It did not come as a surprise to you when you found out Eric had a home theater in his basement. It was something like you'd pictured from the movies, the ones with the rows of dark leather armchairs, deep cup holders, and a giant screen and surround sound system. The foot of the theater room even had a little snack station to make popcorn, and a mini fridge stocked with drinks.

You and Eric shared the couch on the bottom floor that was big enough for the two of you. It was a random Tuesday, and you didn't have work today, so he'd suggested swinging by and hanging out with him for the day. You couldn't possibly refuse.

Eric scrolled through the movie options on the screen with the remote. "Are you sure you don't want any popcorn?" He asked you.

You shook your head. "I'm good, really. But it sounds like you want popcorn, Eric."

He caught his tongue in his smile. "Maybe."

If you weren't supposed to be watching a movie, you would have gladly curled up on that couch and stared at him for the rest of time. His jawline was enough to make a girl go mad, and the fact that he was just so sweet, too—

"How about this one?"

You snapped out of it, barely flicking your gaze back over to the screen in time to avoid him finding out that you were just blatantly staring. "Uhh, sure. I haven't seen this one, actually."

"Really? Oh my god, we have to watch it then." And so you did.

It was about halfway into the movie that you realized there was a draft coming down on you—the air conditioning in this room was awfully high, but you didn't want to say anything. You hiked your legs up onto the couch and hugged your arms, leaning back slightly against the quilt draped over the back of the couch. (How conveniently placed…)

Eric saw your movement from the corner of his eye. "You cold? We can share the blanket."

"My hero," you joked as he removed the quilt from behind your heads and draped it over your laps.

Because the article wasn't exactly miles long, you and Eric had to shift over closer to each other. Not that you were complaining. The arm and leg pressed against yours were warm, and it gave him the perfect opportunity to raise his arm and place it over the back of the couch behind you.

As you both watched the rest of the movie, you gradually let yourself lean into him, and his arm eventually fell to rest directly around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

"I always liked the ending of this movie," Eric murmured softly to you as the credits rolled. He brushed his fingers along your arm in a warm, soothing manner. "What'd you think?"

You stayed with your head tucked onto his shoulder. "Hmm, not bad. I think they could have cut the romance though."

"Ah, I see your point," he said. "Sometimes directors just like to force it for the sake of a subplot."

"Wholeheartedly agree."

His fingers danced up to your shoulder and began playing with your hair. He pursed his lips. "Are you a fan of romance movies? That's kind of a random question, I guess."

"Not really—a random question, I mean," you said, and pulled your head off of his shoulder to face him. The thought occurred to you of how close your bodies and your faces were, sharing warmth and skin. You saw his eyes dart down away from yours for a split second. "I like romance movies. I think they restore my faith in humanity," you mused. "You?"

"I like 'em, too." He released a small exhale, an almost-shy smile etching itself onto his face. "Most of them are just… feel-good movies. They're really sweet, and I've always kind of wanted something like that."

"High standards," you whispered, though playfully. "Wouldn't we all like something from the movies?" To you, this was what the movies were like—"handsome guy sweeps girl off her feet, and he's perfect and she's happy." You were already living out your too-good-to-be-true dreams.

He laughed. "True. I think it's just a matter of waiting for the right person to come along, maybe. And following through."

You bit the bait. "Following through?"

"Backing up your initial swing," he clarified. "Something to drive the ball home and make sure you mean it. I feel like maybe that's what people forget about romance—that there's still an after, beyond happily ever after."

Wow. "Your brain," you praised. "That was actual poetry, I think. Is this how you get girls?"

He bit his lip through a smile, leaning closer. "Only one girl. I hope it's working."

"I think it's working a little too well," you admitted, voice barely audible now.

You could feel the warmth of his breath fan over your lips as he came closer, about ninety-percent of the way; the other ten percent was left for you to either push forward or pull back. He was giving you the decision on a gold platter.

And who could deny something served so beautifully?

You closed the gap between you and pressed your lips against his. It was soft, at first, as the nerves in your brain and your vital organs threatened to go haywire. You breathed him in, your noses slotting against each other. He cupped the back of your head with his free hand, the other curling around your waist.

When you broke apart, it was for a split second, until he was kissing you again. You were half in his lap at this point, your legs draped over his, your side pressed to his chest.

Foreheads pressed together, you shared a breath of air with him. He nuzzled his nose against you as if unable to be so far from you. "Be mine," he said, simple at first. Then, "Please."

You smiled against him and felt his mouth do the same. "Only if you'll be mine, too."

"As if I would say no," he laughed, leaning in again, and crushing his mouth to yours. The theater room filled with both of your giggles as you fell backward.

If this was the happily ever after, then you would gladly follow through.

a/n: to anyone who read flight risk, i just redeemed myself from valentine's day

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @kflixnet

#kflixnet #bjnet #deoboyznet #the boyz x reader #eric sohn x reader #sohn youngjae x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz oneshot #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #eric sohn drabbles #eric sohn oneshots #eric sohn imagines #eric sohn scenarios #eric sohn fluff #the boyz fanfic #dbn: summer on you

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

Note

Can you write something with caddie reader and Rafe going to the country club and booking her as caddie? thankss

Pardon my terrible golf knowledge...

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The written duty of a caddie-girl is to carry the golf bag for the golfer. Although it sounds like an easy job, you are required to have a little golf knowledge…and let your mini skirt do the rest as people who golf at the country club are mostly men.

They won’t mind if you give them the wrong club as long as you giggle when you make a mistake or wear a short enough skirt. It’s pretty degrading and objectifying for women, but rich men give nice tips.

‘’I’m so sorry, Jeff. My alarm didn’t go off and my car wouldn’t start,’’ you explained in a rush to your boss, out of breath from running to the country club. ‘’It won’t happen again, I promise.’’

‘’You’re an hour late, Miss. Y/L/N. Your 9am client is waiting.’’ Jeff raised his eyes from his computer screen, looking at you with disappointment.

Shit. You didn’t think you would have a client so early in the morning.

‘’He specifically requested you for caddie, so save your apologies and excuses for him.’’

It must be Mr. Barclay. You’ve seen him sitting at the country club’s bar two days ago, drinking an old fashioned with a fellow club member. He always requested you as caddie. He said you reminded him of his granddaughter. You didn’t know if you should be flattered or disgusted.

You quickly dropped your personal stuff in your locker and headed to the golf course while rehearsing your apology monologue. It wasn’t in your habits to be late. Hopefully Mr. Barclay will be understanding.

When you got to the course, you searched for a silver fox, but instead you found a tall young man with a snapback and white glove in his right hand.

‘’There you are!’’ he said in exasperation, slinging his golf bag over his shoulder and walking to you.

‘’Rafe?’’

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. ‘’It’s Mr. Cameron for you,’’ he corrected with a shit-eating grin on his stupidly handsome face.

‘’You’re my 9am client?’’

Rafe hummed, his eyes scanning your body and smiling smugly when he saw your small skirt and tight polo. It hugged your curves in all the right places. ‘’Bet you were expecting some rich daddy, uh? I’m sorry to disappoint you.’’ He leaned closer, speaking the next words low enough so only you would hear them. ‘’If you want, you can call me Daddy Rafe.’’

You choked on air. Today was going to be a long day.

‘’Driver, please?’’ Rafe requested, when you arrived at the teeing ground.

You fished the right club from the bag and handed it to Rafe. ‘’Here.’’

‘’Thanks, babydoll.’’ He took the club and moved up to line it with the ball, and swung, his muscles flexing.

You both watched as it flew over a hundred yards in the air. Not bad.

‘’Where’s Topper?’’ you asked. ‘’You usually play with him.’’

‘’Not today. I had other plans.’’ Rafe gave you the club back. ‘’Shall we go find the ball?’’

You spent the next two hours walking along the steep cliffs and hills of the country club's golf course, watching Rafe swinging golf balls and showing off. Unfortunately, you didn’t care much for the sport. You were more interested in staring at Rafe’s muscles flexing and admiring how great his ass looked in those dress shorts.

‘’Want to have a try?’’

‘’Are you sure? I’ve never played golf before.’’

‘’You can do the next tee. I’ll show you how.’’

‘’Golf is more technical than it looks. You don't just swing the ball and hope for the best. There's a lot of factors to think about — the stance, posture, ball placement, and rotation all have to be considered for the perfect swing.’’

‘’First, the grip. Put your left hand at the top of the club and your right hand below the left,’’ Rafe instructed.’’

‘’Good. Now, the position.’’ He situated himself behind you and you tried not to shiver as his hands slowly traveled down your arms until they positioned themselves to cover your own, grasping gently. You could feel goosebumps rise all over your body as you felt his steady breathing on your neck, looking over your shoulder with ease. ‘’Place your feet shoulder width apart and the ball should be inside the line of the big toe of your front foot.’’ He pushed your right heel out with his own foot. ‘’And you gotta bend your upper body from the knees and the knees slightly.’’

So many instructions.

You leaned forward a little while keeping your feet in the right place. ‘’Like that?’’ you asked, not sure if you were positioned correctly.

‘’Bend a bit more.’’ Rafe stepped back with a mischievous smirk, his warmth leaving your back. ‘’More. More.’’ You had a feeling that the position was wrong, but did as told. ‘’Perfect.’’ He swiped his tongue over his lips and hummed, admiring the perfect view of your ass.

‘’And now I swing?’’

‘’Not yet,’’ he said. ‘’I’m enjoying the view.’’

You straightened up immediately, catching what he was doing. ‘’Rafe!’’ you hissed with a glare over your shoulder.

He was laughing smugly. ‘’Can you blame me?’’

‘’Can you guide me again? I lost the position because of you.’’

This time, Rafe won’t make a fool of you. This time, he’ll be the one who gets played.

You took a deep breath as he moved to stand right behind you and resumed the same position he had you in previously. A soft breeze blew and you got a whiff of his expensive cologne. It reminded you of those mornings you had woken up in his bed at Tannyhill, wrapped in his sheets and covered in his scent.

Shaking that thought from your head. Focus.

‘’You’re picking up fast,’’ Rafe encouraged behind you.

‘’Do I?’’ you asked, purposely wiggling your hips against his pelvis.

You heard Rafe inhale sharply in response, his grip on your hands tightening. ‘’If you kept doing stuff like that, I might just have to take you right on the golf field.’’

Please do, you almost let slip.

At the next tee, you ran into Mr. Barclay and one of your co-worker. He was one of the newbies and seemed to be struggling with the golf bag.

‘’Mr. Barclay, hi,’’ you greeted politely. ‘’How’s the course today? We’ve made new additions this year.’’

The older man greeted you back with a smile, then began ranting about how his caddie wasn’t as good as you at the job. ‘’I asked for you at the caddie shack, but I was informed my favorite caddie-girl was already booked.’’

Rafe stepped in, faking an apologetic smile. ‘’That would be because of me. My apology.’’

Mr. Barclay stared you down like you were a piece of meat and then shifted his eyes to Rafe, giving him a ‘lucky you’ kind of look before leaving with his caddie.

‘’Are your other clients all old perverts like him?’’

Most. ‘’He gives me good tips,’’ you said in defense.

Rafe pulled out his wallet, then stared you right in the eyes as he stuffed a crumpled hundred dollar bill inside your bra. ‘’I do too.’’

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx @sweeterheartxamerica @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage @maybankslover

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x you #outer banks #outer banks imagine

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pinksturniolo · 1 month

Text

Play Date - A Matt Sturniolo One Shot

Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader

You call me on the telephone, you sound so far away

You tell me to come over, there’s some games you want to play

I’m walking to your house, nobody’s home

Just me and you and you and me alone…

Summary: The one in which Matt has been helping you babysit your 5 year old brother for the past couple years. Everyone in Somerville, MA knew him as the sweetest and caring guy, always helping someone when they needed it. However, you and him never got along, always disagreeing on most things. You and him had nothing in common. Well… maybe one thing.

Content Warnings: smut, angst, small age gap, fingering, oral receiving/giving, degradation, raw penetration, sneaking around, matt being a tough guy.

Based on this song: (pls listen it's so good and the lyrics are what inspired this one shot)

a/n: i'm sorry if the age gap makes anyone uncomfortable, everything depicted in this story is purely consensual <3

Winter 2024

You watched as Matt helped untie your little brother’s shoes and unzip his jacket, the two of them coming back in from playing outside. You had stayed inside on the couch, keeping warm while you worked on your English essay, watching them from the living room window. A storm hit soon after New Year’s leaving Boston in a blanket of fresh white snow.

He sets his shoes and jacket down, leading him to the kitchen to make him a cup of juice. Your brother adored Matt, there was no denying he was a great babysitter. A couple years ago, your mom started working out of town every other weekend, leaving you home alone to take care of your brother since your dad left when you were a little girl.

Your mom had always been a strict parent, so naturally she didn’t trust you to be by yourself the whole weekend given the fact you were only 16 at the time. So, she asked one of her friend’s sons to help, who happened to be Matt Sturniolo.

Matt was trusted by mostly everyone, and your mom had known his mom since high school, so she had no problem with him being at your house. You, however, were extremely against this idea. You and Matt had never gotten along no matter how much you tried. You had known him since elementary school and from the moment you met, he always had an attitude towards you for some reason. Being that you were so stubborn, you didn’t back down from his sourness, and challenged him every chance you got.

He was a couple years ahead of you in school and always brought up the fact that because he was older, that somehow made him better than you. You refused to acknowledge that, butting heads with him constantly. It didn’t help that some of your friends were his friends and each time you guys were around each other, it was a constant competition. Who was better at bowling, who got first place in Mario Kart, who had the best golf swing. It annoyed your friends to no end.

When you were a sophomore, Matt would come over the weekends your mom worked out of town. He stayed during the majority of the day, taking care of your little brother. This also gave you the freedom to attend many of the extracurricular activities you were involved in. You took pride in being the top of your class and captain of the dance team. Matt endlessly teased you about it, calling you a “try hard” and “nerd”.

The time you did spend at home when Matt was there, you tried to avoid arguing with him around your brother. The three of you often went to the park, or got ice cream, never running out of ways to entertain him. The more time you had spent around Matt, it was hard not to develop a little crush. You would never admit it, but you admired the sweet side of him. He was good at taking care of your brother.

And he subtly started to flirt with you, teasing you over silly things, and checking you out when you weren’t looking. There was no doubt he found you attractive. But you frustrated him to no end, given the fact that you were so stubborn and weren’t afraid to voice your opinion when you disagreed with him on something. Matt liked to be in control, but you did as well. Still, he admired how hard working you were and your sensitive nature.

It didn’t take long before raging teenage hormones created sexual tension between you two. The summer before your junior year, stolen glances and accidental touches fueled the fire that had been growing over the years. One night when you were both alone, watching a movie after your brother had fallen asleep, Matt finally made a move on you. He would usually leave at nighttime, going back home to sleep so he could come back the next day and help you. But he decided to stay and finish the movie with you.

It had been a particularly good Saturday, and you had looked especially pretty that day. He couldn’t stop staring at you and when you asked him what he was looking at, he pressed his lips to yours, igniting a flame in you that you just couldn’t put out.

From that night on, you two snuck around every chance you got, whenever your brother wasn’t around or asleep, almost every weekend up until Matt graduated.

Making out on the couch until his hands found his way into your shorts and under your shirt, eliciting sweet moans from you while he thrust his fingers deep inside you. Pushing him up against the wall in the hallway as you got on your knees and took him into your mouth, his hands tangled in your hair, pulling and grunting until he came down your throat. A couple times, he even spent the night in your bed, using his mouth, hands and cock to make you cum over and over, in every different position.

As much as you both enjoyed the pleasure and excitement, there still was no denying the fact that you two despised each other. Maybe that hate was what fueled the passion between you two in the bedroom, but outside of that, you both never ceased the petty arguing. No matter the deep feelings you had for each other buried inside, it would never go past the sexual relationship you guys had built. Simple as that.

Once Matt graduated and started working in the adult world, he still took the time to keep his baby-sitting duties which you were grateful for, because at this point, you had started throwing yourself more into your schoolwork. You were applying for all the universities you could and taking extra shifts at Star Market you were working at part time. And then it came time for you to graduate, and you went off to college that fall, a few hours from Somerville. You had lost contact with Matt, neither of you taking the time or effort to reach out to each other.

✿

Now it was early January, and you were on winter break. You had come back home to visit and spent some time with your mom before she left on her work trip. Matt came over to help with your brother of course and this was the first time you had seen him since you graduated high school almost a year ago. He was now 20 years old, had let his beard grow out a little, and gotten several tattoos on his left arm.

Was it possible for him to get even more attractive than he already was back then? But you promised yourself you wouldn’t give into your past desires. You had too much to focus on and even though you were on break, you had an important English essay to finish. Besides, Matt had the worst attitude ever as soon as he saw you, making it easier for you to avoid him.

He was currently burning a hole into you with his pointed looks, glaring at you from across the room as your brother sat next to him, playing with his action figures.

You looked up at him from your computer, returning his dirty look. “Can I help you with something, Matthew?” You asked, knowing he hated it whenever you used his full name.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on break? Don’t you do anything for fun?” He said, referring to the fact that you had been typing away on your computer for the last hour.

You rolled your eyes, focusing your attention back on the computer. “Aren’t you supposed to mind your own business?” You responded.

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t really care what you do. I’m just tired of listening to your incessant typing.” He said with annoyance.

You ignored him, continuing to work on your essay while he continued to stare at you. You tried to focus but his piercing gaze distracted you. He sighed loudly and finally you slammed your computer shut, anger bubbling inside you.

“Fine. It’s not like I can focus with you acting like that anyway.” You snap, standing up to walk to the kitchen and get a glass of water.

To your annoyance, he follows you, leaning against the counter as you fill the glass and take a few sips. “Did you miss me, angel?” He says and you almost choke on the water, laughing as you set the glass down. “Don’t be ridiculous.” You reply, turning to face him. His eyes travel up and down your body, no shame in the way he checks you out.

“You still look hot. Brings back memories of when I had you all to myself-“He starts, a mischievous grin appearing on his face. You interrupt him though, grabbing his jaw a little roughly, smushing his lip together to prevent him from continuing whatever dirty thoughts he was going to say.

“Let’s get one thing clear, Matt. I came home to spend time with my brother, not to be bothered by you. Whatever you think we had in the past, you can forget about it. That will never be happening again.” You say sternly and let go of his face. He rubs his jaw and a dark look forms in his eyes as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “If you ever fucking grab me like that again, I’ll make sure you remember who’s really in control here. Don’t make me mad, Y/N.”

He then stalks off to the living room, leaving you there in shock, chills running through your body, a slight throb starting to ache in your core from just his words alone. Fuck. This was going to be harder than you thought.

After Matt left that night, you couldn’t help but let his words replay, memories from when he used to have his way with you cycling through your head. You just couldn’t deny your attraction to him no matter how much he infuriated you. You felt yourself growing wetter by the second as you thought about his voice, his large hands, what it would feel like to have his face between your legs again, his beard scratching against the inside of your thighs. Your fingers slipped inside your underwear, feeling the slickness there, circling your clit as you moaned out his name.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed your phone, calling Matt. He picked up on the first ring as if he somehow knew you needed him. “Hello?” He answered, his deep voice rumbling through the other end. “Matt…” You breathed out. “I need you.”

His cock immediately hardened at hearing your needy voice, knowing you well enough to know exactly how you needed him. “Be there in 5.” He replied, hanging up the phone and grabbing his jacket. Luckily, your house was 2 blocks from his and he walked in the cold, heart racing as he reached your bedroom window, lightly tapping.

You let him in, your mouths instantly connecting, tongues tangling and teeth clashing. You kissed each other hungrily, wasting no time removing your clothes and his as you laid on your bed. He put his hands all over your body, kissing every inch he could as you whimpered his name. “Please Matt, I can’t wait any longer.” You said, the need to feel him inside you overwhelming.

He hummed in fake empathy, pulling you roughly by your hips, wrapping your legs around his lower back and lining his cock up with your entrance. “Listen to how pathetic you sound. So needy for my cock already, angel?” He said, slicking it up and down slowly through your wetness, teasing you.

“Yes, please, please…” You responded, not bothering to fight his dominance. You were too turned on to care. He smirked at this, giving in and pushing himself inside you, no resistance from how wet you were. “Fuuuckk…” He groaned, head falling down, arms resting on either side of your head as he thrust into you at a good pace, uttering filthy words in your ear. “You feel so fucking good. Better than I remember baby.”

You moan loudly as he picks up his pace, his hips slamming into you over and over, your tits bouncing in his face as he leans down to suck on them and squeeze them in his hands. “Don’t stop Matt.” You breathe out, and he has no intentions of doing so, eager to get you to your climax. “I’m gonna cum soon.” You say and he looks up at you, shaking his head. “Not until I say so.” He warns, coming back up from your chest and wrapping a strong hand around your throat, squeezing slightly.

He grinds against you for a few minutes before you can barely take it, ready to beg him for what you need. “Pleaseee Matt. It feels so good.” You cry, making him almost bust inside of you.

He starts rubbing fast circles on your clit, pounding into you at a relentless pace. You bite your lip to keep from screaming, your eyes rolled into the back of your head in a state of bliss. “You gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock?” He asks, his other hand gripping your thigh, leaving bruises.

“Yes! Oh my god, yes.” You yell. “Go ahead baby, cum for me.” He says, granting you the permission to release your juices all over him and he moans loudly feeling you clench around him. He’s not finished with you yet though as he pulls out of you and suddenly flips you around before you have time to catch your breath.

He pulls your hips up, so your ass is in the air and spreads your legs with his knee, putting his hands on your lower back. “I’m not done yet, angel.” He says pushing himself into you again. You cry out from how sensitive you are, burying your face in your pillow. “Fuck, Matt.” You whimper and he thrusts into you at a fast pace again, the sounds of skin clapping together and wet sounds filling the room.

You feel pleasure building in you again and Matt takes a fistful of your hair, pulling it, making you moan with pleasure. You feel tears form in your eyes, another orgasm approaching from the way Matt is pounding into you, hitting your g spot repeatedly. “Matt...” You whimper, unable to say much else from overstimulation. “You can take it, baby. Ahhh, You’re such a good girl- fuck. I know you can cum for me again.” He says in between shaky breaths, feeling himself get close as well.

You cum again, crying out his name, your head slumping into your pillow as he lets go of your hair, squeezing your ass harshly as his hips stutter and he releases into you. You feel his warm load paint your walls and then he finally pulls out, both of you out of breath and he collapses down next to you.

“You okay?” He asks, a hand coming up to brush your hair from your face, seeing how fucked out you are. “More than.” You reply, with a small smile on your lips. He smiles back and wraps an arm around you as you lay on his chest, both of you quickly drifting to sleep.

✿

The next morning when you wake, Matt is gone. You feel a slight emptiness in your chest but ignore it as you get up and get ready for the day. The weekend is over, and your mom will be home soon. You have lots of plans for the upcoming week and don’t have time to think about all the feelings he has seemed to stir up from the past.

However, you get a call from her shortly, guilt in her voice when she tells you about an unexpected extension in her work trip came up and she’ll have to stay another week. You’re disappointed but you understand it’s important to her and now that you’re an adult, she’s okay with you staying home with your brother alone.

So, it’s a surprise to you when Matt shows up a couple days later, not even bothering to knock on the front door as he saunters in. You and your brother were sat on the couch, watching TV after lunch. “What’s up.” He says nonchalantly, sitting next to you. Your brother immediately jumps up in excitement, going over to him. “Matty!!” He says, a cute smile on his face. “Hey, buddy.” He says back, ruffling a hand playfully through his hair.

You ignore how insanely cute the interaction is, scoffing in annoyance. “Have you ever heard of knocking?” You say in aggravation, Matt losing the smile as he looks at you. “You should probably lock that door more often. It’s not safe. Which is why I came over to make sure things are good over here. I overheard my mom talking to your mom about how she’s still stuck in Aspen on her work trip.” He responds. You simply roll your eyes and sigh, not bothering to argue with him.

“Whatever. Come on, baby. It’s time for your nap.” You tell your brother, and he gives Matt a hug before you take him to his room, reading him his favorite book as he falls to sleep.

You close his door with a soft click, walking over to the kitchen table so you can sit and work on your essay some more. Matt’s already there, reading what you’ve typed on the screen.

“Excuse me! What are you doing.” You scold, ripping the computer out of his hands.

He laughs, leaning back in his chair next to you. “Not too bad, Y/N. I knew you were a nerd, but I didn’t know you were that smart.” He teases.

“You’re insufferable.” You reply, ignoring him as you continue typing.

“Hmm, I beg to differ. That’s not what you were saying when I had your legs shaking-“ Before he can finish, you pinch his thigh through his jeans, making him yelp.

“Don’t be a jerk, Matty. We both know that night was a mistake.” You say, and he furrows his brows in pain, his eyes closing and breathes through his nose.

Then he grabs your hand from his thigh, placing it back on your leg and rests his arm on the back of your chair while he leans in closer to you.

“What did I tell you before, hm? Do you need to me to put you in your place again?” He says, the blazing look in his eyes making you squirm in your seat.

You look back to your computer, attempting to focus as he traces circles on your bare thigh with his fingers. “Matt. Stop.” You say, trying to sound stern despite the butterflies that form in your stomach.

“Why?” He replies, moving his hand farther up your skirt.

You grit your teeth, swallowing hard. “Because… I’m trying to study.” You say weakly now. Why the fuck couldn’t you control yourself around him?

“You sure about that?” He whispers now, voice filled with desire. His hand is completely disappeared underneath your skirt now, his fingertips soft as he presses them to your clit, a wet spot forming in your panties.

You sigh in desperation, Matt satisfied with the fact that he has you wrapped around his finger.

His lips ghost across your neck and he places a soft kiss beneath your ear, making you moan aloud.

“Just say the words and I’m yours, angel…” He rasps, his dick throbbing in his pants.

You suddenly snap out of it, pushing his hand away and abruptly stand up from your chair. He was not going to continue to just have his way with you. “If you’re not going to allow me to study in peace, then you can leave.” You say harshly, leaving the kitchen.

You storm down the hallway to your room, Matt following closely behind. “Stop following me!” You whisper yell, trying to be quiet as your brother is asleep in his room. You reach your door, attempting to slam it in his face when he puts his arm out, stopping the door before you can. He has an annoying smirk on his face when you turn to glare at him. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” He says, making you roll your eyes.

“You’re a disgusting pervert.” You sneer at him, referring to moments earlier when had a hand up your skirt.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.” He responded, the smug smirk on his face growing wider. “Don’t act like that’s the first time I’ve touched you… Like I didn’t just have you begging me to let you cum the other night.” He added, leaning closer to you, a dangerous look in his eyes.

You scoffed, pushing him away from you by his chest. “I don’t recall anything like that ever happening.” You say with disgust in your voice. You both knew you were lying, of course. But you had done your best to try and forget your momentary weakness that night.

“Why don’t I jog your memory then?” He speaks lowly, moving closer again, forcing you to walk backwards further into your room, closing the door behind him and locking it. Your heart races and thighs clench together, that stupid smirk still on his face as he wraps one hand around your throat, the other harshly gripping your waist and smashes his lips to yours.

You melt into his kiss, his grip on your throat making your pussy throb. “Stop being such a brat.” He says, backing you up against the wall of your bedroom. He removes his hand from your throat and trails it down to the hem of your shirt pulling it off you and then ripping your skirt down your legs once again leaving you in just your bra and panties. “But I love the reaction it gets out of you.” You say breathlessly, knowing he was only going to punish you the more you talked.

He attacks your neck with wet kisses, sucking and biting all the sweet spots he knew you loved, lustful moans leaving your mouth. He suddenly drops to his knees, ripping your favorite lace thong off you.

“Matt!” You speak. “What the hell?” You were definitely making him buy you a brand-new pair later.

“Shut up.” He simply replies taking one leg and wrapping it around his shoulder, burying his face in your cunt. “Oh fuck.” You groan, tossing your head back against the wall as pushes his tongue inside you. His hands keep a firm grip on your waist as he continues to fuck you with his warm, strong tongue, only pulling out to kiss and suck on your clit, driving you to the edge.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum, the sight of Matt willingly on his knees for you, his blue eyes staring up at you.

Once you finish, Matt stands up, ready to throw you on the bed and continue to have his way with you but you decide it’s time for you to take some control.

You push him onto the bed before he can say anything, and climb on as well, the look on his face priceless.

“Take off your jeans and your shirt. Now.” You demand, sitting on your knees in front of him, while he leans back against your pillows. He does so without any protest surprisingly, and once he’s left in just his boxers, you lean down, your ass arched in the air, and pull them off. His dick springs out, slapping his stomach and you grab it, taking him into your mouth. He groans loudly, putting a hand in your hair but you push it away, removing your mouth from him with a pop. “No touching.” You say, looking up at him seriously.

He smirks at you, raising both his hands in the air. “Yes mam.”

Satisfied with this, you lower your head down again, fitting as much of him in your mouth as you can, jerking the rest, and bobbing your head. The sounds he makes get you even wetter, and you moan around him, letting him brush the back of your throat. “Fuck, baby, you’re doing so good.” He coos, gripping your sheets as you prohibited him from touching you.

He slowly bucks up into your mouth as you take him deeper and deeper into your throat, one of your hands now resting on his thigh and the other grabbing his balls. You know he won’t last long like this and before you can make him cum, he grabs your shoulders, pulling you up to sit on him.

“Come here, angel. I want you to ride me.” He says and you straddle him, sinking down on his cock. You both moan out at the feeling, and you start to bounce on it, putting your hands in his hair and tugging.

He guides your hips, helping you ride him, the air in the room now hot and thick.

“Look at you, so fucking needy. You just can’t get enough, can you baby?” he says, groaning as he watches himself slip in and out of you.

The feeling of him deep in your guts has you back in your submissive state, just nodding at his words, moaning his name. “Yes Matt.”

“Mm, shit, you look so beautiful, dumb for my cock like this.” He continues, knowing exactly what to say to bring you to that edge again. His fingertips dig into your hips, the pain mixing with the pleasure.

You lean your head against his shoulder, starting to get tired but still chasing that high.

You puff hot breaths against his neck, lazily leaving sloppy kisses.

“Want Daddy to help you, honey? Want me to make you cum on my dick again?” He rasps and all you can manage is a whine and nod against him. “Please.”

That’s all he needs to hear before he starts bucking his hips up, slapping against you roughly and you scream out, the grip in his hair becoming tighter. He’s so deep inside you at this angle, the pressure is almost overwhelming, and you can do nothing but take it, whimpering his name over and over again.

You reach your orgasm, cumming all over him and he finishes soon after you, biting into your shoulder as he does. He holds you for a little, both of you catching your breath, before you climb off of him.

You lay next to him while he rubs a hand up and down your legs, tracing small circles on your hip.

“You know, if this is how the rest of the week goes while you’re here, I won’t complain.” You joke and this makes him laugh, pulling you closer to him.

“Don’t worry angel… I’ll help you finish that essay too.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you both fall asleep.

#sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo oneshots #one shot #fanfic

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elliesflower · 11 months

Text

what's love? [ellie williams]

pairing; ellie x gn!reader

cw; angst, ellie and reader in a situationship(kinda), post-golf incident (joel mentioned), slightly au (still set in jackson, ellie never went to seattle), ellie doesn't open up ab her feelings :(

an; hello! first off, rest easy to one of the greatest to ever do it, miss tina herself. while listening to her today i felt like this song was very ellie-coded tbh nd i haven't been great lately nd just wanted to throw something angsty together for my baby girl :( (i know the song's vibe doesn't necessarily match the story's vibe but i'm meaning more the lyrics). also this is more from ellie's pov so reader is gn and has absolutely no physical descriptors!!

no smut, but like all my content please 18+ only, mdni!!!

Three little words.

One big problem.

What is it?

“Is this the end?”

No, not those ones. It was something else, painful, and always dancing at the tip of her tongue, making tiny beads of sweat prick at her palms and a ball of trepidation sink to the pit of her stomach. They were cursed words, seldom given thought, and never spoken aloud. The underlying topic of ninety percent of all songs ever written, and movies produced—it was cruel, really, how there was no escaping it.

“This can’t be the end…”

Vision blurred by the thoughts of a thousand demons, Ellie muttered back into the void.

“It’s not,” and her voice was so quiet, it very well could have been the wind pestering the trees outside her window.

“It’s not…?”

Oh. Right.

Movie.

Your legs shifted under the shared blanket, and Ellie’s eyes refocused onto your folded hands in your lap.

“Is there a second movie, or something?” Your voice was trembling only slightly, the emotional turmoil of the last twenty minutes of the movie lacing your words.

Ellie shook her head again, as if it would shake her brain right out. She couldn’t help but to feel bad, having practically abandoned the movie as she stewed in her own emotions. There were so many of them, fighting to get out, clawing her insides every time she looked at your face for too long.

“Sorry,” she could blame her watery eyes on the movie. Push aside her feelings. Again. “No, there’s no second one. I wish there was, though.”

Ellie wasn’t much like an open book. Or, I guess she was a very specific kind of book. That one you fell in love with based on the dust jacket description, with her complex words and inexplicit detail, but every time you’d pull it down to read, something stopped you. Life gets in the way. You’d tried and tried, oh god have you tried, to open her up; to wear her down, pressing on her spine and dog-earing her pages, keeping her infrequent tipsy confessions and three-am sleep deprived rants in the back of your mind like a filing cabinet. Pushing, but never pressuring. Ellie didn’t like pressure.

“S’okay,” your voice was always soft with her. Couldn’t be loud, couldn’t scare her away, because Ellie Williams could fucking run. Away from her problems, as fast as her legs could carry her and as far as her heart would let her. Despite her alienation, the empty bed permanently rooted in the hardwood of Joel’s house kept her coming back. “Did y’wanna watch anything else? I’m kinda tired.”

Even the softness of your voice couldn’t conceal your hurt, that she was shutting down. Closing you off. Keeping you at a distance. Her heart twinged, but she couldn’t look at you. She looked down at her outstretched legs, the off-white blanket cascading over them, the piece of dust she could see out of the corner of her eye. Anything. Except you. She felt cold, but your body was warm, radiating and making her shift toward you subconsciously. She hated it.

Why is hate so much easier to express?

“You have patrol tomorrow?” It was easier to just get technical, sometimes. You nodded, before stretching your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you. “Gotta be up at four. Wesley and Nia have the flu or something, so we have to head out early to swing by their posts, too.” Ellie nodded, absentmindedly picking at her cuticles. Ignoring the sweet smell of vanilla that emanated from your body as your arms went over your head.

She was so proud of herself when she found you that bar soap out on patrol, neatly tucked away in a dusty white vanity. You were so happy, so grateful, always so grateful that she was thinking of you. That she perceived you in such a way.

And she almost fucking said it, that night. Almost ruined everything. Those three little words. She was high, probably on some weed, but also on how your eyes sparkled when you were happy, the way your eyes crinkled slightly at the corners and you shifted your body weight side-to-side excitedly. Your emotions were quite obvious, most of the time. It made Ellie want to cry.

“That sucks,” she mumbled, and she couldn’t help it now. You were like a magnet, she was sliding down against the pillows, watching the credits roll on the small screen past the end of her bed. She could hear you breathing, deep and careful. On edge. Why were you so on edge?

“It does,” you agreed. Ellie didn’t look away from the screen. Sinking, slowly, slowly, slower...her head was resting near your rib cage, now. She could feel you breathing. And she felt you slide down to match her position, turning your body to face her, silently and without explanation. It was better that way.

“You’ll sleep here tonight?” And it felt strangled, coming out of her throat. She didn’t need to say anything, though. Of course you were sleeping in her bed. Tonight, and the night before that, and before that…but she felt you nod against her side, and her arm slid up to allow you access to her chest. No explanation. Ellie was really bad at explaining.

“You’re cold,” your voice was muffled against the fabric of her gray hoodie. Ellie almost smiled. Almost.

“You’re warm,” she retorted, and she feels your heart pulse faster against the skin of your back. The movie’s end credits became the soundtrack to the night. Soft and pensive. Like you.

Ellie watched as your breathing eventually slowed, your shoulders rising and falling rhythmically as you drifted away into sleep. She was always jealous of that, though of course, like everything else, she’d never admit it—how your tiredness always let you drift into a blissful dreamland, your right hand twitching where it usually sat curled loosely atop her chest as you slept. You moved a lot, she noticed, and talked sometimes, too. Sleep didn’t come easy to people like Ellie.

And so, she was absolutely, positively, awake and conscious when you let out a breathy sigh in your sleep, legs twitching slightly against her bottom half before settling back into her chest. A whisper escaped your lips, so sweet it may have been laced with vanilla, too.

“I love you…”

But this time, Ellie couldn’t stop her tears.

#ellie williams #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie tlou pt 2

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captainlondonman · 10 months

Text

New Skin Boss

Jed was glad it was Friday. His Boss allowed Friday to be the day when staff could wear what they wanted. During the week Jed had to tone down his gear, just jeans, thick soled shoes and a sweatshirt and anyway he had to wear a warehouse coat over. However on a Friday he did not give a shit what the other two lads in the warehouse thought and he always put on his Skin gear. Christ if you are a skin you have to show that you are, so out came the bleached jeans, the Fred Perry T shirt, the yellow braces and the yellow laced 20 hole Ranger boots. Like all good skins he wore no underwear and you could see the outline of his cock down one leg made more obvious by the piss stains from not shaking his knob when finishing his piss. The other guys wore their jeans and some boring top always looking at him as if he was an alien.

‘Well fuck them’, Jed thought

The Boss , Brian, was young, early 30s and seemed fixated with golf spending most of his free time on the golf course with his boring suburban friends. Jed had to admit he was good looking but God knows if he was straight or not. Had to be Jed thought with all this bloody golf. He was 6ft. good build, gelled hair with perfect parting and one thing Jed always noted was that there was a nice bulge hidden in his chinos. The guy obviously wore boxer shorts so his cock could swing around a bit. This Friday as they were packing up to go, Brian looked at Jed and said.

‘You always wear your Skinhead gear on a Friday, Jed. I just can’t see why and always so tight on you.’

‘Once a Skin always a skin, Brian. You wouldn’t know.’

‘Too right there, Jed, however I do admire you for looking like that. It may not be for me but it actually does suit you.’

That night Jed met up with his pals at the local Skin club. Great always to be with fellow skins in their gear. Some wore rubber versions of skin stuff and a few of the bigger blokes would bring their slaves in with a thick collar and chain and make them kneel begging for a beer. This was his home and often he would hook up with another Skin for a night of raw sex but it was usually a one night stand. Christ he had probably had half the guys there. He was talking to Otto who was considered the leader of the Skins who frequented the club. Everyone called him Otto because he loved to go off for weekends to the Berlin Skin scene and besides you would not mess with him, he was at least 6’2” and built like a brick shit house, both arms heavily tattooed and a spiders web tat covering his head. Jed was telling the group abut Brian and his comments.

‘Mate it sounds as if you fancy yer boss. I fucking hope not as us Skins stick together.’

‘Shit, Otto, no way am I having sex with anyone other than a Skin.’

‘So what Jed if this boss was a skin, what would you do?’

‘Well IF he was, I fucking love to be his fuck bitch judging from that cock outline I see in his chinos. But that’s not gonna happen ain’t it.’

‘Stranger things have happened. If you are up for it me and two of me mates could help out a bit. Always want to make us Skin boys happy.’

‘You’re bloody joking’

‘Am I? What say we have a go next weekend but I will need all the weekend and you stay out of things till I call you. You will just need to let us in before you leave and then you bugger off till I call.’

‘Not sure I can believe all this but hey man you are such a boss I’m willing to give it a go.’

‘Great, I like the sound of this commission. Will make for a good weekend.’

The following week at 5pm the other guys had gone off and Jed did as he was told by putting something Otto had given him into a cup of tea for Brian.

‘Thought you might like a cuppa before I go off, Brian’

T’hat’s nice of you Jed. No doubt you are off for one of your boys night.’

‘You can say Skin instead of boys Brian.’

‘Maybe but that’s not my thing but if you insist yeah, Skin nights. Hope you enjoy. I’ll be another half hour and then I will lock up.’

‘Have a great weekend. I’m sure its gonna be special’

‘Who knows Jed?’

Jed whispered to himself ‘I know’

He then opened the door to let Otto in and his two sidekicks.

‘You put the liquid in the tea did you, Jed’

‘Of course just as you asked’

‘Christ what have you there? It looks like a bloody huge suitcase.’

‘A bit like that but don’t you worry. Bri’s not gonna know what has hit him but the result will be exactly as you are wanting.’

‘I’m not sure now,’ Jed replied

‘Look fuck off mate and leave this to the professionals. Go.’ And with that Otto pushed him out the door and quietly shut it behind him.

‘Right lads lets give Bri 20minutes. That should be enough.’

They then opened the office door and saw Brian slumped over his desk.

‘Look like it’s worked boys so lets get to action, open up the case. First, hand me the shaving cream and razor as well as the chains and ropes but before we do anything lets get this guys clothes off.’

All three skins quickly removed Brian’s clothes

‘Well’ Otto said, ‘Jed is right, the guys got a good sized cock, I reckon a good 8inches when stiff but well find that out soon enough. A real waste in a pair of chinos. Dom, put these clothes in a bin bag and shove in the bin outside.’

Otto tied Brian to the chair with the ropes and taking out a good thick leather collar buckled that around his neck and then chained it to the back of the chair so his head was fully upright and unable to move.

Otto then took his electric razor and started on Brian’s gelled hair, great pieces falling to the floor. Once most of it was off he sprayed on the shaving foam, mixing it in with a couple of thick heavy globs of spit for good measure. Taking the razor he worked his way around the scalp once and then another go to make sure the head was smooth and properly scalped.

‘Shit that looks better for a start. He has a good Skin shape of head. Fucking hate blokes with all that gel thinking they look bloody great. Better shut him up before he comes round but first let’s close the blinds and set up the video system for him.’

Brian started to come to and as he started to open his mouth, he felt a round rubber ball being forced into his mouth almost making him gag and then it was strapped round the back of his head. He could not move his hands were firmly tied behind the chair and his head was immobile. He was vaguely conscious of a thick leather strap around his neck keeping his head firmly in position.

As his eyes still had a fuzz, he could make out in the dark room three men standing in front of him. They all looked dressed the same and he could make out high boots and shaved heads but little else.

One was bigger than the other two and came forwards so his face was up against. The guy looked fearsome and he could make out the guy was a Skinhead as he was dressed similarly to the clothes Jed wore on a Friday. The guy was bulky with thick legs encased in his bleachers and on his head a large tattoo of a spider’s web. On one cheek was another tattoo of a swastika.

‘So Bri, I’ve just put a ball gag in yer mouth to shut you up for now. You might see you’re naked but don’t worry that will get sorted out. Us lads are going to leave you for a while but before going we have a little piece of equipment we think will help you.

Otto opened up the ball stretchers and fitted them around Brian’s hefty pair of balls. As he clicked them in Brian let out a howl of pain as he felt his balls firmly locked and being stretched. You’ve a good pair there, boi, but we want them to give you a lower voice like us and besides you soon grow to love them and never want them off.’

By now Dom had set up the machine with a screen directly in front of Brian so he could not miss what was to be shown.

‘Ready Bri?’

All Brian could do in his anguish was mumble

Otto started the machine. The first video showed a group of skins hanging around some with knuckle dusters and others with bats, a group of chavs started to walk by the with Skins shouting at them. Every word was Fuck this, fuck that, Oi oi. Then the Skins waded in hitting the chavs with the bats punching the lads with their knuckle dusters, showing their power and making the chavs submit and run off. More videos started up all with real aggro Skins, looking for trouble, and always with the volume set loud, Fuck Fuck, Oi Oi. These words kept thumping in Brian’s eardrums

‘Right Bri, good stuff for you to watch. Well leave you now.’

While Brian sat tied up rigid unable not to watch the violence, the aggro, the sheer force and manliness of the Skins, Otto and his mates went next door for a couple of hours for a few beers.

When they returned Brian was wriggling in his seat, trying to force himself free, a look of sheer anger on his face, his eyes bulging with fury. His arms straining to be free.

‘Now what’s going on here Bri. Lets get that ball gag out.’

As Otto forced Brian’s mouth open and took out the gag Brian let rip

‘Fuck, fuck fuck, Fucking Skins. Oi oi ‘which he kept repeating his voice now deeper and his accent different, a working class sound erupting form his body. ‘Fucking skins,’

‘That’s more like it Bri. What I was hoping to hear.’

‘So for now we will leave the gag off but change the videos.’

Ok Dom put the other ones on for our mate here

The machine started up again and the new images flashed on to the screen. Again groups of Skins but this time no fighting, no fists. Instead the Skins were licking their Mates rangers, all in either bleachers or camos, tight, showing off their package, their hands rubbing against their crotchs. Other images showed some young Skins being forced down on their knees and their heads rammed against the older Skins bulges, unzipping and taking out their erect cocks. Being told to get on with their blow job . the older guys grabbing the head of the younger ones and forcing them to take the full shaft down the back of their throat. In other images other guys unzipped their bleachers and took out their cocks slowing wanking for the camera, eyeing each other and some helping their mate out, hands firmly grasped around the dicks, then coming with reams of thick white spunk at the camera. Other shots showed Skins with a rear zip having it undone and the top Skin shoving two or three fingers up their butt, , or getting down to give them a face fuck letting their tongues explore their mate’s arse. Then pictures and a full fuck as the main guy grabbed the other’s waist and pulled him onto his rigid cock, all the time shouting Fuck. Another video showed a fist fuck with bottom getting down on his knees and sticking his arse up so his mate could slowly start with a. couple of fingers moving then around to open up the guys arse and adding a third and fourth finger as the bottom squirmed begging for the full fist. Then the hand started to disappear in the guys cheeks and finally the arm moved in and up to the hilt. His own cock was out and wanking as he fist fucked his mate, both shouting with Fuck me mate, take my fist you fucking Skin boi.

As these pictures appeared so Otto and his mates decided to leave.

‘Bri needs a good few hours seeing all this, and you two can come with me otherwise you’ll be wanking each other raw. Later OK’

Brian was left alone to force watch the videos

As the guys were downing their beers and smoking their fags they eventually heard a voice next door shouting

‘Fuck the shit out of the bastard.’

‘Go on fucking wank yerself’

‘Get that fucking cock down yer throat’

The words went on and on in Brian’s new voice

Otto opened a beer and added something to it saying

Time to move on to the next phase boys

They went in and looking at Brian staring at the screen, still shouting

‘Fucking hell, Otto’ Dom said. ‘He’s luving all this, look at that fucking dick of his.’

Brian was sitting shouting at the screen urging on the blow jobs, the wanking and the fucking and his cock was stiff showing a full 8’ of thick manhood with a decent head. It was as if Brian wanted to break free and grab his cock for a wank

‘Good boi.’ Otto smirked. ‘Glad you luvin this what we Skins do to each other. No one has sex like a Skin. So take a beer and calm down’

Brian slurped down the beer and had not even drained the bottle when he conked out.

‘Right lads get the kit out, time for a bit of art work. Otto took out the tattoo kit with all the needles and colours

‘Time this guy looked more like us eh?’

Dom said ‘what you going to do mate’

‘Well we have to make a start and he can always add himself later as he will do. So I’ve worked out a few ideas. There are a couple of obvious ones.’

Taking hold of Brian’s hand he started to etch out Skin on his left hand on each finger, all in black letters a good inch high.

‘Well he can’t hide that now and lets give him another for every bloke to see. Taking the black needle again he etched out a spiders web on Brian’s neck, not as big as his own on his head but one about 4inclhes in diameter and one that no shirt would hide.

‘Looking good. Lets do one more.’

He made a pair of Ranger boots on his right arm with yellow laces.

‘I like a bloke with yellow laces.’ Otto said. ‘Always the sexiest. Right lets clear this up and give him a quick rub with some disinfectant. The bruising will soon go and he can admire himself.’

‘Ok Chas now get the next bit of gear for our friend.’

Chas took out a full rubber hood with no eyelets and just a plastic tube coming out from the mouth. Otto took the hood and put it over Brian’s head zipping down the back to make sure it was a very tight fit. He then fitted a funnel to the end of the tube.

‘Perfect. Christ I’ve been dying for a piss after those beers and cant save it much longer so Bri here is in for a fucking long drink. So lets wake the boy up .’

With that Otto took his hand and gave Brian a resounding slap across the rubber bound mask. ‘Fucking love hitting a bloke in rubber. Take that you fucking shit heap, and take that again,’ whacking Brian 3 times to make sure he was awake.

As Brian came round Otto opened his bleachers fly and pulled out his large thick tool.

‘Shit man,’ Dom said ‘I always luv seeing that big dick of your. Never fails to get me going’ as he started to rub his crotch.

‘Later man but for now lets give Bri here a good drink’

Otto put his dick over the funnel and start to let a stream of hot piss down it. Brin suddenly felt this wave of acrid piss spilling into his mouth but was totally unable to stop swallowing it. At first he hated the taste and tried to block it out as it poured down his throat but something clicked in his mind. It didn’t taste that bad, in fact he loved the taste and the more Otto poured down the more enthusiastically Brian swallowed.

‘You now fucking luv that boi, don’t you. Take my piss, after all those beers there’s plenty for you, as wave after wave poured down.’

Both the guys watching started rubbing each others crotches, thick outlines in their bleachers showing.

‘Ye see Bri, yer getting me mates all worked up and you can expect some luvly creamy spunk coming yer way from them. So guys hold yerself for now. The guys still rubbed each other precum stains showing through. Brian drank every drop of Otto’s piss.

Otto removed the funnel and then the rubber mask showing `Brian’s skin head glistening with sweat.

‘That was fucking great.’ Brian said. ‘Make sure you get a few more beers and let me have it again.’

‘See boys, the change is working. Well done Bri youre on the right road. Now me, Dom and Chas are gonna stand in front you. I’m gonna remove your neck chains but not the collar, it suits you, and take off the ropes. Us skins like our Rangers nice and clean and with all that piss of mine in yer mouth you are gonna lick every one so now get down on yer knees. ‘

Otto grabbed Brian by his leather collar and forced him down on his knees

‘You got 6 rangers there boi that need a good lickin so get on with it.’

Otto kept his hand on the chain that was attached to the collar and pushed him to start with Chas’s. Brian knew what he had to do and do it right

Chas shouted ‘Get fuckin right down Boi and let me see that tongue shine up me boots.’ Brian let his pissed stained tongue lick deeply on the toe caps using his spit to shin up the spit oozing out his mouth

‘That’s it boi get all the way round.’ Brian was grovelling on the floor licking round the toe caps and the backs of the Rangers his chin buffing up and his hands firmly around the boots. He looked up at Chas to make sure he was doing a good job and saw that he was stroking his crotch and Brian could see the outline of a good sized dick stretching down the inside of his bleachers

‘You lick well boi, gets me going. Me cock now nice a hard., as he unzipped his fly and let his hand go deep inside his bleachers to pull out a long cock.

‘Now fucking lick mine’ Dom shouted. He already had his dick out and was stroking it dropping some spit on to his shaft.

‘Fucking lick and use your tongue and spit boi,’ Otto shouted putting one of his boots firmly on Brian’s head and forcing it down onto the boot. ‘When we say lick you fucking lick got it.’

Chas and Dom now had their hands on each other’s cock giving one another a good wank.

Otto said,’ I’m saving you for later Bri but come on lads let’s see you both spunk over Bri’s face you can see he’s gagging for it

Shit I’ve a load of good spunk ready for him’ Chas shouted

‘Me too’ Dom said ‘I love your hand rubbing me cock, Chas, keep it going. As for you Bri sit up and lets see your face. That’s it, stare at our pricks and get ready for our cum.’

Dom was now using his hand up and down the full length of Chas’s cock and Chas was working Dom’s head knowing he loved his head rubbed with spit.

Otto watched rubbing his own crotch, smirking at his lads getting off on each other.

‘We’re gonna cum together boi so be ready to swallow and what you don’t I’m gonna rub all over yer face’

Dom and Chas had worked one another up to shoot their load.

‘I’m ready now Chas’

‘Me too Dom, yer fucking great at wanking me off, Christ im coming’

‘Take aim’

Both guys let out a stream of cum onto Brian’s face, Brian trying to swallow as much as he could loving their spunk and started using his hands to wipe it into his mouth whilst Dom and Chas rubbed what was left all over Brian’s face

Christ that fels better Ive been dying to shoot ever since we started his on the guy.

Otto said don’t worry I think youll both be at it again soon.

Otto took a wet cloth and wiped Brian’s face removing all excess of spunk.

‘I think its time to get some clothes on you boi, it the only clothes you’ll be wearing from now on, you never want to wear anything else. Once a Skin always a Skin. I’ve your new uniform.

Otto opened the suitcase and brought out the clothes for Brian. A Fred Perry black T shirt with yellow piping, a pair of camos with yellow braces, yellow long socks and 20hole ranger boots.

‘Ok Chas help the guy on with his gear. He needs to know how to do the laces of his boots.’ As Brian put on his clothes he started to feel even more different and wondered what clothing he had ever worn before this weekend. He seemed to know this was right for him and he felt it suited his body, showing off his chest and firm arse. The putting on of the boots was like a sexual surge, feeling them tight around his legs, knowing he could kick the shit out of someone wearing them with their steel caps. The pressure around his legs gave a pressure to his cock as it grew in length down his leg.

,Right Bri time to see the new you. This is what it’s all been about and hope you like what you see.’

Dom brought a mirror in and Otto pushed Brian in front

‘Well boi you look fucking horny,’ Otto said rubbing his dick

Brian was amazed. He now looked just like the others there and his spider Tat looking like a real Skin, but then he is a real Skin. He clenched his fists and could see the Skin tat on his knuckles. By clenching his fists he looked ready for a fight, tough, real aggro and so fucking manly, such a fucking turn on. His cock was rigid.

‘Right Bri time to finish off the transformation and I get the pleasure. Get over here.’

As Brian moved over towards him Otto unzipped his flies and put his hand deep down inside to pull out his thick veined 9inc rampant cock. This ain’t been washed in days boi so all the better for fucking you now bend down over your desk.’

Brian saw Ottos cock and for a moment winced at the thought but seeing this rough man standing in his Skin gear with his massive cock out at the ready, Brian knew he wanted to be fucked by this monster.

Brian did as he was told and Otto unzipped the rear of his camos.

‘I make sure all my bois have a rear zip as I love to fuck them in full gear. Dom you can call Jed now and get him down to see his Boss.. That’s some arse you got there, Bri, just as I like good firm cheeks and a deep cleft at your hole.’

Otto spat two large globs of spit onto his rancid prick.

‘Makes it a bit easier for you first time.’

As he put his arms around Brian’s waist he moved his cock into the crack.

Dom and Chas were both watching rubbing their cocks knowing how well Otto fucked.

‘Well Dom no point in the two of you just watching and feeling horny so Chas get over to the desk next to Bri and let Dom fuck you at the same time. I know you love his cock.’

‘I fucking do’ Chas said as he leant over next to Brian and unzipped his rear fly Cum on Dom give it to me.’

‘Watching Otto fuck the hell out of Bri will make you even more horny.’

Otto took his hands and spread open Brian’s cheeks to let his cock find the hole.

Nice little hairy arse you got there boi and I can see a good slit you have for my big dick.’ With his hands keeping the arse wide open he let his head meet Brains hole and spat another glob to push the head in.

‘Fucking hell Otto what a cock you have, you’ll bloody well split me.’

‘Don’t worry boy once I get the head past, my shaft will glide up your arse right to the hilt. Just look at Chas and how he takes Dom’s cock.’

Chas was starting to move his body back to allow Dom into his arse. Dom had taken Chas by the shoulders and was pushing him against his balls.

‘I want to feel that arse of yours right up tight against my balls. Make em swing Chas.’

Chas rammed his body back as much as he could until he felt Dom’s pubes rubbing against him.

Meanwhile Otto had started pushing in the full length of his cock. That’s it boi take the full load as I’m gonna blast you.’

‘Shit this is fucking great, I’ll never want anything but dick again.’

By now both Dom and Otto were fully up as Chas turned next to Bri and taking hold of his head kissed him plunging his tongue down Brian throat.

‘That’s it bois enjoy one another while we enjoy you.’

‘Come on Dom lets give our lads everything we got and cum together’

The two men fucking started pummeling, grasping their prey and pushing their dicks in an out with increasing force and rapidity. Brian and Chas were giving each other deep throat groaning as they could feel the dicks up their arses ready to explode in side them

‘Christ Bri this is your moment there’s no going back now once I cum inside you. Dom get your jism ready as I’m about to cum’

‘Me too mate’

And with that both Skins erupted their spunk deep inside Chas and Brian.

The door opened and Jed stood there transfixed at the scene.

‘Fucking hell it’s a bloody orgy. What have you been doing.’

Otto slipped his cock out of Brian’s arse giving his cheeks a hard slap.

‘Well done Bri, you know how to use that bum of yours. Now see who’s here. It’s your mate Jed who asked us for help to change you.

Otto zipped up Brian’s rear and let him stand up to face Jed

‘Christ you looking fucking amazing’ Jed said staring at his boss. ‘I could never have imagined. I don’t know what to say Otto.’

‘I think you are about to find out.’

Brian walked over to Jed and before Jed knew what had happened Brian had him in a stranglehold making Jed unable to move.

‘So it was you, you fucking little shit who caused all this. You’re the one you has put me through all this, you fucking little wanker. I should have known. It’s you who have made me a skin’, he sneered into Jed’s face spitting at him and using his spare arm to rub it in. ‘Fucking great life you’ve given me You made me a Skin just like you and Otto here. You’ve changed my life for ever.’

Jed did not know what to say ‘I didn’t know it was going to end this way Brian,’

‘Well it fucking has and let me tell you, its bloody brill. What a fucking great life you’ve given me. Who wants to be anything but a skin but I’ll tell you now having just been fucked good and hard by Otto, my cock needs to get rid of plenty of spunk and its your arse that’s gonna take it all.’

Brian threw Jed at the table and as he undid Jed’s jeans he could feel Jed with a full erect cock.

‘So you like seeing me like this do you. Well all these times I’ve seen you checking out my package you’re now gonna get it as I am so horny after Otto.’

Brian undid his zip by now his camos showing a large stain of precum.

‘Christ I’m ready for you and that arse Jed.’

With one arm firmly on Jed’s back he took hold of his cock and pressed against Jed’s crack which was already moist and waiting. He knew he was going to be fucked and he so wanted Brian inside him.

Brian decided this was no slow fuck he wanted Jed to feel every inch as he rammed the 8 inch prick all the way up so Jed could feel he could go no further. His movements were rapid but Jed wanted it all and was pushing his arse back and forwards to help the sensation and while being fucked he had his hand over his own shaft wanking for all he was worth.

‘Christ Brian fuck me, let me have all your cream as I’m about to spunk all over your desk. Go on faster and faster I want you. Christ I’m ready to explode’

‘You little horny skin you Christ I m ready to give you all my spunk’

‘Me to, shoot mate’

And with that both men groaned deeply and came at the same time a great spray of cum shooting across the desk from Jed and Brian at last cumming as he had so wanted to do during the weekend. He was a Skin and he loved fucking.

‘So guys, looks as if I’ve had another success. I can pack up.’ Otto said

Brian replied, ‘thanks Otto. Jed you’re coming home with me tonight I’ve not finished with you yet. I think you and I have something together and a good night of fucking will see what happens. I may have another job for you Otto.

On Monday morning Brian and Jed were waiting in full Skin gear for their warehouse staff to arrive. The two guys walked in and saw Brian, no longer in his chinos and light blue shirt, but looking a full skinhead in his bleachers, Rangers and Fred Perry, totally shaved and the spider tattoo showing. He had an arm around Jed and as the blokes took in the scene so he tongued Jed.

‘Well lads as you can see there have been a few changes. You see me as I want to be and I’ve promoted Jed to be my personal assistant. I’ve decided to take the company in a new direction and in order to make the changes I’ve brought in some help, so meet Otto, Dom and Chas.’

The 3 Skins came in and stood behind the employees.

‘You won’t be going home for a couple of days as Otto will be working on you. We are all going to be one fucking great Skin team.’

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misshoneyimhome · 1 month

Note

William silently cursed as he saw you. "She has a great ass, but she got an awful swing." With a chuckle from his friend. Willam's head turned to give him a furious look. With a defensive gesture, his friend raised his hands and backed away. "Hey man, relax. I'm just complimenting her". Willy is the type to admire his girl and try to "teach" her some golfing lessons.

😍😍😍 I swear my cooch skipped a beat just by the mere thought of this 🙈 Almost got jealous of my own fic... not cause it was so well written, but just by imagining the scenario 🤍

I mean, Willy teaching you to golf, AND possesive!boyfriend Willy? Sign me up 🥴 I hope you enjoy it 🤍

Word count; 1.7K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

Swing It Like It’s Hot | William Nylander 🖋️☀️

The Swedish summer sun cast a golden hue over the lush greenery of the golf course as William guided you to the first tee. It was the off-season, a break from the demands of professional hockey, and he had promised to give you a golf lesson. Or perhaps more suggested for you to join, since he really wanted to play with his friends.

It wasn’t a secret that you weren’t a great golfer. Well, in fact you’d never really tried in before, so when William said that you were coming along you naturally demanded that he’d teach you. And he happily obliged.

Standing in front of him, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness as you held the club tightly. Meanwhile Pablo and Banksy, bounded ahead with wagging tails, eagerly exploring, accompanied by William's best friend Rasmus Sandin, one of his best friends, and brother Alex Nylander, as well as his new flirt.

Taking in the scene, the laughter and camaraderie were infectious, and despite your nerves, you couldn't help but smile as you prepared for your first swing.

With a patient smile, William walked you through the basics, demonstrating the proper stance and grip. His body was firmly pressed against yours as his arms wrapped around your smaller figure guided the movement, before encouraging you to give it a try. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you prepared to strike the ball.

It was needless to say; you didn’t even know where the ball landed. Your swing wasn’t great, and you knew it.

As you stood at the next tee, determined to make a better shot, William's encouraging presence bolstered your resolve. His arm on your waist was both comforting and motivating, reminding you that all you needed was some practice at this sport.

"It's alright, älskling," William's calm voice reached your ears, his Swedish endearment melting away some of the frustration that had built up inside you. "You're doing fine. Just relax and enjoy it."

His words were soothing to your frazzled nerves, and you couldn't help but offer a grateful smile in return. You knew you had nothing to prove as it was all fun and games, yet you also wanted to show your boyfriend that you made an effort to join him in his interests. And despite the challenges, finding comfort in the simple joy of being with him amidst the stunning Swedish countryside lifted your spirits. You then focused intensely on recalling William's guidance, determined to make this attempt a success.

Observing you from a small distance, William and Rasmus provided silent encouragement as you readied yourself for another swing. Despite any earlier frustration, there was a tenderness in William's gaze as he watched you, silently acknowledging your effort.

Taking a deep breath, you blocked out all distractions, focusing solely on the ball, and with determination pulsing through you, you swung the club with all you might.

The result was a little bit better this time, however what caught William off guard, was when Rasmus’ friend suddenly made a comment. "She has a great ass, but she got an awful swing," he remarked with a playful smirk in their native language.

Immediately, William's head snapped towards him, his blue eyes narrowing with a mix of irritation and protectiveness. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck tensing as he gave his friend a stern glare. "Watch it," he warned, his voice low and tinged with annoyance.

Sensing the tension, the mare raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture, stepping back. "Hey man, relax. I'm just complimenting her," he said defensively, trying to defuse the situation.

Though William's glare softened a bit, the tension hung heavy in the air. He knew his friend meant no harm, but his protective instincts flared at any perceived slight toward you. With a sigh, he turned back to you, silently resolving to help you with your swing while also making a mental note to speak to Rasmus later.

And with the playful comment, William remained steadfast in his commitment to coach you through the game. Throughout the day, he consciously tried to push aside Rasmus's remark and focused solely on helping you enhance your golfing abilities. However, despite his initial determination to stay composed, there was a noticeable change in his demeanour.

His touches became more frequent, his guidance more intimate, as he enveloped you in his arms each time you prepared to swing. With each embrace, you could feel the warmth of his body against yours, his closeness serving as both solace and encouragement.

“It’s okay, Willy. I’ve got this,” you chucked, indicating that you were feeling more confident about your game. But William didn’t let you wander too much in your own. Instead, he stayed close, upscaling his flirting behaviour a little with every move.

“I know baby, but you just look so good golfing… can’t take my hands off you,” he chuckled with a mischievous grin by the next tee, placing a kiss just behind your ear before gently biting your earlobe.

“Willy… there are other people here,” you tried to inform him with a soft sigh, yet you couldn’t deny that it was a little fun to have your boyfriend’s hands on you. He always knew how to make you feel good, and when his lips gently placed a few more kisses on your neck before withdrawing, you had to shake your head to get back to reality.

Then as you continued your way, amidst playful banter and shared laughter, William teased you about your progress, his jests accompanied by whispered promises of what awaited you later if you managed to refine your swing.

"You're doing so great, baby," he murmured against your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Just wait until we get back home, and you’ll get your prize."

His words stirred a rush of excitement within you, igniting a fierce desire simmering just beneath the surface. Beyond the playful banter, his gaze held an undeniable intensity, a hunger that spoke volumes of his longing for you.

“Maybe… I’ll show you how well I can handle your club,” you teasingly remarked in return with a dash of confidence, flashing a smirk and a wink at your boyfriend before strutting to pick up your next ball.

William had to adjust his junk as he filled the blood rush through his body by your behaviour and the thoughts of the two of you alone later.

As the day drew to a close and the sun dipped below the horizon, you all concluded the game; William taking the lead followed closely by Sandin. Surprisingly, you managed to outscore Alex by two points, with Rasmus's friend trailing behind, and finally Alex's current girlfriend finishing last.

It had been a day filled with nothing but laughter and enjoyment. However, amidst the fun, you couldn't help but notice William's possessiveness. While you understood your boyfriend's inclination to be protective, his behaviour seemed a bit excessive, especially considering you were simply among friends, including Alex, who was technically family but also William's best friend.

And as you drove along the highway towards Stockholm, your attention turned to William, whose gaze remained fixed on the road ahead.

"Willy, take it easy, there's no need to speed," you tried to lighten the mood with a soft chuckle, but he didn't respond to your comment, his focus solely on the road. "Babe, what's the rush?"

William briefly turned his glare towards you, his mind seemingly elsewhere, before easing off the accelerator slightly. "Oh... nothing," he replied tersely, but you knew him too well to leave it at that and decided to probe further.

"We both know that's not true..." you raised an eyebrow, knowing he could sense your tone and see your expression out of the corner of his eye. "Come on, you didn't even want to join the others for dinner."

"Well, no," he admitted with a heavy sigh. "I just want to get home."

"I understand that, but I'm struggling to understand why... we had such a great day, didn't we?" You attempted to offer him a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah... I mean, yes, absolutely... it's just," William murmured softly, searching for the right words to express his thoughts.

"Are you upset because I didn't do well?" you asked gently, prompting William to glance at you with a surprised expression.

"What? No, not at all. Baby, you did amazing! I'm seriously impressed."

"Then what's bothering you? Willy, I can't help if you don't tell me what's going on..." Frustration started to bubble up within you as your patience wore thin.

And finally releasing a deep sigh, William mustered the courage to speak. "Rasmus's friend made a comment about you, and it got under my skin."

"Oh..." You felt a bit puzzled. Didn’t William's friends like you? Were you just seen as the annoying girlfriend tagging along? The thought crossed your mind. "Well, I'm sorry if I was intruding on your guy time..." you apologised softly.

"What? No, babe, that's not what I meant!" William quickly clarified, not wanting you to think for a moment that you were unwelcome. After all, he was the one who invited you along. "No, what I meant was that he made a comment about your ass... and I don't want him to look anywhere near your ass! Especially not right in front of me!"

As you listened to William, you struggled to form a coherent response. Was he genuinely jealous over some comment about your ass?

As William eased off the highway, his demeanour gradually relaxed. His gaze briefly met yours while waiting for the traffic lights to change.

"What?" he asked, surprised by your calm expression, expecting you to be offended by the sexual remark.

"Are you serious?" you chuckled softly. "Willy, did you really get jealous because Rasmus's friend complimented my ass? Because, of course, I have a nice ass... we both know that," you said, trying to flash a confident smirk. "Besides, it's an ass you get to enjoy, one that he doesn't, and one you'll get to see in all its glory when you give me my prize, as promised."

William couldn't help but feel a twinge of arousal at your words. Why was he even so worked up over this? You were his, and he knew it. Plus, he loved the fact that others admired you too, especially knowing he had you all to himself.

Then slowly forming a smirk of his own, he turned to you once more. "Oh babe, you deserve far more than just a prize."

And to your great surprise, you received four prizes that night. And then two more in the morning.

#my asks #wn88 imagine #william nylander imagine #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine

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dark-fics-4-you · 10 months

Note

feeling bored and i would love to hear your dark!rafe headcanons (any theme, best friend, step bro, stalker, etc.), maybe riff on them with a short blurb perhaps 👀 pls send asks <333//

Rafe step bro 👉👈🥺 makes me feel petite & Smol

(I'm 5'9😭😭)

A Helping Hand

On tippie toes, you reached for the top of the cabinet, letting out a frustrated sigh when you couldn’t grab the chips you wanted.

You turned to your step brother, sitting at the table and looking at his phone.

“Raaafe!” You pouted when he met your eyes.

“What?” He said, annoyance written all over his face as he rolled his eyes before glancing back at his phone.

“Can you grab the chips for me?” You put on your best puppy dogs eyes, pleading with your older sibling.

Rafe let out a frustrated huff through his nose before shaking his head with a grin as he stood up.

You brushed your hand over your short skirt, pulling the material down a bit, as it had began to ride up when you were reaching for the chips.

He neared the counter and you pointed at the snack you wanted. The blond stepped closer, chest pressed to your back before reaching to the cabinet.

Your breath caught in your throat at the feeling of him so close to you. The familiar smell of his cologne and shampoo clouded your senses.

He leaned back, away from you, taking a step back as he dropped the chips on the counter in front of you. “There ya go, Y/N/N.”

“Thanks Rafe!” You beamed, turning to hug him tight, and he returned the hug, his head resting atop yours, nose pressed in to your hair. “You’re great!”

His hands rested around your waist, fingers brushing just under where your crop top ended and exposed skin began. “No prob.”

“Hey, did you wanna go golfing again today?” You asked with a smile as the two of you stepped apart. “I want to work on my swing. You could help me!”

“Sure thing, princess,” he drawled. “I can make sure you’ve got the right form. You’re so lucky to have me around to teach you this stuff.”

“I really am! You’re the best brother ever!”

His smile fell slightly at that and he let out a humorless chuckle, “step-brother. Now let’s head out soon, do you wanna wear one of your little golf outfits I got you?”

“Yeah! That’s a great idea!” You grinned, giving Rafe another quick hug before running upstairs to change into an even skimpier outfit of his choosing.

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #stepbro!rafe #stepbro!rafe cameron #drabble #obx #outer banks #a helping hand

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goldengleams · 9 months

Text

wherever you stray, i follow | cole caufield x reader

In which Cole asks you to meet his family.

A little moment for the cutest hockey player out there-Mr. Cole Caufield!!

Warnings: none, just fluff!!

————————————————————————

It was Saturday and you were out on the golf course with Cole. This had become a common occurrence in your relationship, as you both liked to golf, even if you weren’t anywhere near as good as he was. You just loved spending as much time with Cole as you could in the off-season.

As you reached the 9th hole, the early morning sun was just starting to turn hot. You and Cole had woken up early to play nine holes and you were glad for his golf expertise on the selection of the tee time. You took a drink of water as you leaned against the cart.

Cole was standing confidently in the tee box, squaring up his shoulders and getting ready for his driver shot. He swung, his club connecting perfectly with the ball to send it soaring up in the air.

“Nice shot, C!” You called.

Cole only bragged jokingly on the course, typically tossing jokes back and forth between the two of you, but today he was quiet. You knew you weren’t great at the sport, but Cole loved that you tried your hardest and practiced with him. You could see the small smile on his face behind your sunglasses as he reached to pick up his tee.

“Your turn, babe,” Cole mumbled as he walked past you to the cart.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Cole continued to stay turned away from you, checking his phone once again. You knew it was early, but you were lost as to why Cole had gotten quieter as the morning had gone on. It seemed like he was focused on something, especially something in his phone.

You brushed off Cole’s behavior to take your shot. Cole barely seemed to notice your swing, not offering you any sweet compliments or loving words of advice.

“Ready to go?” Cole asked, eyes finally lifting from his phone as he started your golf cart to find your ball. His hand had failed to find its spot on your thigh as you drove along in silence. In a way, it reminded you of the first time you had gone golfing with Cole, back when everything was so new to the both of you.

“Y/N? Is this alright?” Cole had asked at the time. You were approaching the green at the last hole, the shade and brush from the large willow tree near the side hiding the blush from your cheeks. Cole slid his hand on your thigh and for the first time that day, you felt calm. You were no longer worried about who would see you two or if you were actually exclusive. Cole had made all of that clear, and he was always there to help you understand that he really liked you.

“Yeah, totally not trying to distract me from my winning shot,” you had said, caught off guard when his hand rested on your thigh. Cole had laughed, bantering with you about the close match.

He had pulled off the path, hiding under the large willow tree for some shade. With a finger under your chin, lightly motioning you forward, he kissed you. He had probably said some cheesy line, but it didn’t matter. Butterflies still went crazy in your stomach for Cole.

“My golfer,” he had whispered, conveying his happiness that you were there. “This tree is pretty big y’know, no one would see us if we…”

“Don’t, Caufield.”

“Hey, c’mon,” he had laughed. “It’ll be our tree, we can mark it!”

But now, as you approached the tree, your unmarked tree, you didn’t have butterflies. Cole had been acting weird and it was starting to make you uneasy. In the past week, Cole had finalized his plans to travel to some different events for PR, see his old hockey friends to train, and then go home to see his family. You understood what you had signed up for when you started dating Cole and didn’t mind his schedule, but your worrying was getting the better of you.

The cart came to a stop near your ball, yours was first, as usual. Cole was looking at you expectantly.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you said, trying to collect yourself as you approached your shot. You gave it a swing, sending your ball closer to where Cole’s was sitting right on the fairway. You approached him again on the golf cart.

“You leave for all of your events and things next week, right?” You asked as Cole started driving.

Cole swallowed slowly and nodded. “Yeah, it should be alright.”

You knew Cole was a little nervous getting back into the swing of training and playing after his shoulder surgery, but you knew he could do it.

“Well, I’ll keep your house warm while you’re gone,” you joked. “I’ll be lonely without you, C.”

Your quiet admittance of the words that hung between you seemed to snap Cole out of whatever trance he had been in for the last few days.

“So come with me to Wisconsin,” he blurted out, quickly finding your hand with his as he hit the brake. “I think the Grand Prix is just a guys thing, and so is training, but I would love for you to come to Wisconsin.” You met his eyes as he looked at you with a hesitant gaze. You were pretty shocked-Cole was asking you to go home with him. To meet his friends and his family.

You couldn’t help the wide smile that broke out on your face. “Is this why you were being weird and quiet, Coley?”

Cole pulled away from your hands that had started to caress his face. You knew he was serious when he moved away from your touch.

“Yeah, I just want you to be a part of my summer,” he said. “You helped me through the winter, which is long as shit in Montreal and now I want fun summer memories with you.”

You leaned up to give him a kiss, tasting hints of his drink on his lips. He closed the space between you quickly.

“Oh,” he mumbled, pulling away. “Did I mention there’s also a wedding? My cousin is also getting married and she was practically begging me to invite you, so I hope you’re ready to meet the Caufield’s because they know a lot about you.”

You threw your head back and laughed. Cole didn’t get very nervous, but when he did, he always rambled a little.

“No, you didn’t say it was for a wedding, but I’d be honored to be your plus-one, Cole.” You swore Cole’s eyes lit up when you said it. You would be his date any day.

“All good things happen at this willow tree,” Cole said, amused. “Remind me to ask you to marry me here.”

You smacked his chest, a little taken back. In the midday light, Cole’s skin shone and his hair glistened. You ran a hand up his arm to silently reassure him.

“You may be pushing it, but I wouldn’t be mad about it, C.”

————————————————————————

Hope you guys liked this! Cole Caufield is too cute not to write a fluffy little blurb for🥹 send in some requests if you want to see more posts like this!!

…part 2?

#cole caufield #cole Caufield x reader #cole Caufield imagine #nhl hockey #nhl #nhl blurb #nhl x reader #nhl fic

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arvandus · 3 months

Note

Headcanons on dates Inumaki would take you on 😭? i feel like he’d lean into the arcade-cinema dates 🥹🖤

YESSSS i was thinking arcades even before i finished reading your ask 🤣 I think Inumaki would love to do activities. Anything that’s interactive with a nice edge of playful competition.

Ideas that come to mind: arcades, mini golf, go kart racing, that sort of thing. His favorite arcade game is air hockey, and he’s also great at the claw machines cuz he cheats just to get you that stuffed animal that you really want.

He’s a goofball at heart and super playful. He might cheat just a little sometimes when competing with you, but only cuz he gets to kiss you if he wins.

He loves just being with you too, so after the activity is done he wants to stay with you, wandering around the mall or hanging out at the park.

If you’re at the mall, count on him being a goof just to make you laugh. He’s gonna ride the silly animals that roll around, he’s gonna put a hair clip in his hair or girly sunglasses and strike a pose.

If you’re at the park, he’s pushing you on the swing. And if you’re already swinging, he’s in front of you grabbing your ankles and pulling you in for a kiss before letting you go. He’ll lay down on the top platform of the playset and stare at the stars with you. And if you’re both feeling especially silly and energetic, he’s going to chase you around in a silly game of tag before capturing you and peppering your face and neck with kisses.

Inumaki will always want to hold your hand, fingers intertwined. If you’re doing a solo game (cuz you’re trying to beat his high score), he’s got his arms wrapped around you and he’s nuzzling you behind your ear to distract you.

And when you do win a game with him? He’s either going to pout (cuz he doesn’t get his prize of kissing you) or he’ll be your biggest cheerleader, lifting you up and spinning you around until you’re giggling and breathless (It really depends on what the game is).

Inumaki is nothing but fun and sweetness, communicating his love for you through his actions. All he wants is to enjoy simple moments, live in the present and enjoy a bit of normalcy with you amidst the chaos of a world filled with curses.

#arvandus answers #arv’s moots 🍀#inumaki x you #inumaki x reader #inumaki #toge inumaki #JJK #jujutsu kaisen

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cherienymphe · 1 year

Text

Amnesiac III (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

WARNINGS: eventual NON-CON, eventual DUB-CON, dub-con kissing, violence, public sex, memory loss, underage drinking, drug use, non canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts | divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: “There’s something wrong with your love story, baby…”

After a surfing accident leaves you with little to no memory of everything that happened before that day, you start to wonder if the blond in what little memories you do have is the same one who claims to be your boyfriend.

“You gotta stop being so tense,” Rafe teased, and you thought to yourself that it was easier said than done. “…cause when you swing your arms…”

Rafe stood behind you, hands on yours as he forced you to do just that. You watched as the golf ball soared, the sun almost blinding you from keeping an eye on it.

“You want the rest of your body to follow suit.”

“I’m pretty good,” you said, feeling surprised at that. “Was I always that good?”

Rafe snorted to himself when you turned around to face him, and you watched him adjust the cap on his head.

“Golf was never really your thing,” he told you, and you tilted your head. “Despite how much I tried to get you into it.”

He was frowning slightly as he said that, and you chuckled.

You were getting more comfortable around Rafe, much to your relief. You had started to worry that it would take ages to get used to your boyfriend again, but Rafe made it easy. He was so sweet to you and patient beyond belief. It didn’t hurt that he gazed at you like he’d take a bullet for you either.

Rafe was just so intense when it came to you that it was impossible for it not to rub off. He was always double checking to make sure you were okay, asking about your memories and your head, always touching you in some way. He was always just…there, and it seemed like you really had no choice but to get more comfortable around him.

You wondered if it was always this way. Were you just as intense before the accident? Were you just as in love and obsessed with him? It didn’t seem possible, but the more time you spent with him, the more you could see that it might be.

“I guess surfing was more my thing…”

It grew quiet between you at that, and you knew why.

Neither of you had mentioned the accident since that night when you had your first major recollection. It had shaken you, the intensity of it, and Rafe was more than happy to sleep next to you however many nights you asked. The thought of that night had you looking towards the grass, and you swallowed.

You had gotten into an argument with Rafe not long before you went into the water.

At least, that was the feeling you got. The feelings of regret and sadness and anger had washed over you just like that water had, and you had the faintest memory of staring at his back as he stormed away, the evening sun setting on his blond hair. You didn’t know what the argument was about, and even though you expressed a desire to know, Rafe had assured you that it was so insignificant, he’d forgotten about it the moment he pulled you from the water.

Rafe’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Topper’s having a little get together later. I told him that we’d drop by.”

You looked at him at that, shielding your face from the sun.

“If you want to,” he added, although you could see in his face how much he wanted to.

“That’s…fine,” you told him. “I do want to get to know your friends more too.”

You said that, but it wasn’t entirely true. Rafe’s friends were great and all, but your real interest lay with your friends. Or former friends. You weren’t entirely sure. Sarah had spoken about them like you were as thick as thieves before the accident while Rafe spoke about them like they were a thing of the past. You wondered which was true, if you had told Rafe something that you didn’t tell Sarah. He was your boyfriend, so the possibility was there.

However, you hadn’t really been given the chance to find out.

The day that everyone had come by, you and Rafe had been in Charleston. You had completely forgotten about it when you accepted his suggestion the night before, mind going a mile a minute due to your nightmare. When you remembered, you had felt so bad and guilty, begging Rafe to go back immediately. You’d been in the middle of dinner, and he’d placated you, calming you down as he assured you he’d talk to Sarah and apologize on your behalf.

You preferred to do it in person, but by the time you got back, Sarah wasn’t home. She’d been gone by the time you woke up the next morning too, and that had been weeks ago. It was like you two just kept barely missing each other, coming home late when she was already asleep or had snuck out to see John B, or waking up after she’d already left.

Rafe didn’t seem as concerned as you, and you figured that you were making it a bigger deal than it evidently was.

As usual, Sarah wasn’t home when you finally made it back, and you sadly glanced at her door when you passed it. Rafe had gotten some more clothes from your house, mentioning in passing something about your foster parents coming home in a week or so. As you decided on what to wear tonight, you absentmindedly thought about them. Rafe had said that your relationship could be better, and when you eventually asked him to elaborate on that, he confessed to you that they had never treated you as parents should.

Something about ‘the right thing to do’ and feeling obligated to take you in.

You had to admit that it didn’t make you excited for their return. If you had any doubts about what he’d said, the fact that they had yet to reach out to you after your accident pretty much confirmed his words. Knowing that your birth parents had died and that you hadn’t really had any proper ones since made you sad.

When you and Rafe eventually arrived to Topper’s house, there was more people than you expected. You didn’t recognize any of them, and that forced you to cling to Rafe’s side most of the night. He didn’t seem to mind though, hand squeezing yours as he guided you through the bodies and hallways.

“Yeah, I’m a little mad he kept it from us, but I should’ve known he’d wear you down eventually,” Kelce said to you.

It was a brief moment in which you and Rafe got separated, your boyfriend having a serious conversation with Topper. About what, you didn’t know. You frowned a bit at Kelce’s words, tilting your head as he sipped on his beer.

“Rafe’s been hung up on you for as long as I can remember,” he snorted into his cup. “It was kind of pathetic, really.”

You did remember Rafe mentioning that he’d liked you for a while before you started dating. The thought made you chuckle because you couldn’t imagine why it took so long for you to like him back. Your gaze traveled towards where he stood, the light shining off of his dirty blond hair.

“…and once you started hanging around those Pogues?”

Kelce blew out a breath, shaking his head just as you turned back to him. Your confusion must have been all over your face because Kelce explained.

“Pogues. It’s what we call the people from the other side of the island, The Cut.”

You slowly nodded, still not quite understanding.

“You know, they’re lazy and dirty and like to blame us for their failures. A pathetic bunch, really,” Kelce said with a shrug.

Your brows knitted at that, a sour feeling in your gut.

“Well, that seems…a little harsh,” you whispered.

“It’s just the truth,” he continued. “You hang around them and they bring you down. I swear to God it almost drove Rafe crazy seeing you hang out with a crowd like that. Especially JJ.”

Your interest was piqued at the mention of that name again, and you gave Kelce your full attention.

“Who is JJ?”

“Trouble,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Short fuse, violent. You know he brought a gun to the bonfire once? Well, of course you don’t remember, but yeah. That’s the kind of guy he is.”

Kelce shook his head again at the thought of him, and you felt lightheaded for more reasons than one. Violent? Guns? Why on earth would you hang around someone like that? You remembered that he was friends with Sarah, and you wondered why she would too? You couldn’t imagine associating with anyone like that, and you thought to yourself that maybe Rafe was right.

Maybe your old friends had been bad for you, and if what Kelce said was true, then maybe it was a good thing you didn’t seem to be close to them anymore.

You were quiet when you and Rafe eventually left, the blond just sober enough to drive. Your silence was noticeable if the way Rafe kept glancing at you was anything to go by. You were so deep in thought that when his hand brushed your thigh, you jumped.

“Sorry,” you mumbled at the sight of his alarmed gaze.

“Are you okay? Is it your head?” he wondered, reaching for you.

He brushed his fingers along your temple, and you couldn’t help but to lean into it.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Did JJ really bring a gun to a bonfire once?”

Your question seemed to surprise him, his eyes widening before Rafe cleared his throat. You were parked in his yard now, his truck turned off, and you didn’t mind sitting in the dark.

“You remember that?”

You blinked a few times, his question throwing you before you shook your head.

“No. Kelce told me…but it seems its true…”

Rafe’s silence was confirmation enough.

“…and I was friends with him? Sarah and all of her friends are friends with him?”

Rafe sighed, reaching out to hold your hand, and you threaded your fingers through his.

“I told you…some people in your life didn’t have your best interests at heart,” he quietly said, brining the back of your hand to his lips. “I can’t control what Sarah does…”

You watched as his jaw ticked in the darkness, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“…and I didn’t want to control you either, just look out for you, and that…that caused a lot of problems between us.”

You looked out of the windshield at that, trying to understand why you’d be so against that. Why had you been okay with hanging around an obviously bad crowd? It made no sense to you.

“I have no idea who I am,” you suddenly murmured, almost sadly.

“Hey, don’t do that.”

It was hard not to. You felt…disappointed in yourself, and as crazy as it seemed, since you woke up in that hospital, not once had you ever considered that you might not have been the best person before this. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach, and a whole new fear washed over you. A fear that you didn’t deserve the man sitting next to you.

You turned to look at him, lips parting.

“I’m sorry…”

You trailed off as Rafe shushed you, taking your face into his hands.

“I already told you. We’ll make better memories,” he promised. “Whatever happened before, it doesn’t matter.”

You looked down, briefly closing your eyes as you sighed. Rafe seemed like too kind, too understanding of a boyfriend, and you thought to yourself that he was almost too good to be true.

Your damp skin dragged over your bedding with every movement from you, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut at the sensations between your legs. You felt so hot all over, chest heaving with every thump of your heart. A power outage was a blessing in disguise, the house dark with the only light in your room coming from the full moon outside.

Your window was open, the breeze blowing your curtains and brining in a much-needed chill. It cooled your skin, and you bit your lip, forcing yourself to swallow down the moan that threatened to escape at the feel of a tongue swiping along your folds. Your toes curled, your thighs trembled, and you could only see stars behind your eyes.

Fingers pressed into your skin, holding you in place and allowing for little escape. One of your feet pressed into your bed, hips lifting just a tad, and you peeled your eyes open. They remained on your ceiling at first, vision blurring from pleasure before you lowered them to look down at the head of blond hair between your thighs.

The heat from your dream carried over into reality when your eyes flew open, skin sticky and dewy with sweat. It had started to rain sometime during the night, and the slight drizzle calmed your racing heart. The longer you laid there, the more you realized that it hadn’t been a dream…but a memory. You guessed that answered any questions about the nature of your relationship with Rafe, and you slowly sat up.

You hadn’t asked him to stay tonight, and you were grateful now more than ever for that.

The heat between your thighs and the desire in your gut was embarrassing enough with just you present. Although, you wondered why it was embarrassing to begin with. Rafe was your boyfriend, had been for a long time, and being intimate with him was normal. You didn’t have anything to be ashamed of.

Granted, you were just starting to become more comfortable with him.

Remembering such an intimate moment with someone you were still getting used to was the craziest head trip. In your current reality, you hadn’t even kissed him, a small peck at the corner of his mouth hardly counting. However, that memory was front and center now, and you knew what it was like to feel his hands on you, his mouth on you…his tongue in you.

You were shocked at how much you…missed it.

You didn’t quite know what your goal was as you slid out of bed. The Cameron household was dark and quiet, everyone fast asleep, and you should’ve been included in that, but you really just wanted to be near Rafe. You had enjoyed sleeping next to him, and you knew that scared you into not asking him to stay tonight. You swallowed a sigh, wondering why you were so scared to let yourself get closer to your own boyfriend.

What was holding you back?

You neared Rafe’s door, and the closer you got, your ears picked up on his voice. It was late, and you frowned, wondering why he was still up. His door was cracked just a tad, and his voice became clearer to your ears, and that was when you realized that he wasn’t talking.

He was moaning.

You froze for half a second, feeling all kinds of wrong as you listened to the deep and drawn-out baritone. It made your heart rave, goosebumps erupting over your skin as you stood at the crack in his door. Even with so little light, you could make out the shape of him…and the shape of his hand wrapped around himself.

You sharply inhaled, surprised at how much the sight held your interest. It was a private moment, something that you were intruding on, and yet you couldn’t look away. It was a completely different side to Rafe that you hadn’t really seen…outside of that memory.

His voice, his heaving chest, the precision in which he slid and twisted his hand around his cock. All of it called to something primal in you, something that had you loudly exhaling before you realized it.

Rafe was quick to act, hurriedly turning on his lamp and covering himself just as your own eyes widened at being caught. Your eyes met his through the crack, and despite what you had expected, he actually relaxed at the sight of you.

“Oh,” he breathed, pushing himself to his feet.

It made sense, you guessed. You were his girlfriend, not his mom. You stuttered out an apology as he ran his hand through his hair, swinging the door open wider and eyes meeting yours. There was some slight worry on his face, and you recalled how late it was. Of course, Rafe would be concerned.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to… That was rude…”

Rafe was staring you down, and the longer he did, the more nervous you became. Suddenly, the corner of his lips curved into a smirk, and he leaned against the doorjamb. A light sheen of sweat coated his skin too, and you struggled to hold his gaze.

“Y/N,” he said your name, drawling it out in a way that made you shudder. “Were you watching me?”

You opened and closed your mouth, struggling to find your words.

“I’m really sorry. I…”

“Don’t be,” he murmured, reaching out to touch your necklace. “You have that right.”

You cleared your throat at that, glancing behind him and studying his room.

“I really didn’t mean to. I just… I had another memory, and I just really wanted to be with you.”

Your eyes met his again, and they had hardened now, unreadable. Rafe was quiet for a while before he dropped his hand, asking you what it was about.

“Us,” you replied with a sigh, and you continued at his frown. “We were in my room…doing something…private.”

You didn’t know why you struggled to get the words out nor why you worded it like that. Rafe understood though, and again, his reaction wasn’t what you expected. His jaw ticked, and he tilted his head to the side, hair going every which way.

“Really.” It came out more like a statement. “What were we doing?”

“Rafe,” you chuckled, and he stepped closer.

“I’m serious,” he said, a mocking lilt to his voice as it lowered. “Refresh my memory.”

“You…” you glanced away. “Your face…was between my legs.”

His eyebrows rose at that, and his smirk dimmed a bit.

“…and that inspired you to come and find me…?”

You realized what that sounded like, and you frantically shook your head.

“N-no. No. I…I just wanted to be near you,” you confessed.

Rafe’s face softened at that, and you bit your lip.

“I know that you’re my boyfriend and that we have a past, but before tonight…I think I just found it hard to accept?” you shrugged. “It still didn’t feel quite real, I guess, but I remembered something really intimate between us, and it clicked.”

You stepped closer, and Rafe let you, reaching up to take your chin between his fingers.

“I remembered what it felt like to have you touch me like that…” Rafe glanced away at that. “…and I remembered how comfortable I felt. How…trusting.”

His eyes snapped to yours, lips pressed together.

“…and when I woke up, I missed that feeling. I just really wanted to be near you, and I wanted that earlier tonight, but something was holding me back from asking you to stay.”

You hesitantly reached for Rafe’s hand, and he pulled you against him.

“But I think it’s clicked now. You were my boyfriend. We were in love, and…I trusted you so much.”

Your hand tightened on his.

“…and I want that again.”

Rafe’s shoulders sagged as you said that, a weight visibly lifting off of his shoulders. His smile was slow, and when you asked if you could stay in his room, he was more than happy to pull you inside.

JJ Maybank.

That name was starting to haunt you now. At first, it was him who was missing from your pictures according to Sarah. His name came up again as a driving force behind the wedge between you and Rafe, Kelce revealing the mystery guy to be violent and dangerous. And now…

Now you were staring at his handy work as Rafe stormed into the house.

Rose was the one who had proposed getting something to eat from The Wreck. It was a restaurant that came up in conversation a lot, but you’d yet to have it since your accident, so you had no memory of it. You’d been excited to go, but Rafe had suggested calling in an order that he’d be happy to pick up.

The rest of his family, sans Sarah, was happier with that suggestion, albeit a little surprised at Rafe’s willingness to be the one to get it. While he was gone, you got to know Ward and Rose more. They struck you as one of those perfectly compatible couples, maybe even a bit manufactured in nature, but they were cute enough. You had been getting along with them just fine, Wheezie too, when the sound of Rafe’s truck pulling in could be heard.

However, instead of being greeted with food, Rafe had stormed into the house. Empty-handed, Sarah on his heels, and a bleeding lip and quickly bruising jaw.

You had stumbled to your feet with wide eyes, Ward asking what happened. That was evidently the wrong thing to ask as both Sarah and Rafe started talking at once, yelling over each other with an aggressiveness that took you by surprise. Somehow, throughout the commotion, you got the gist of it.

JJ had taken a swing at Rafe as soon as he saw him, and Sarah, being his friend, was convinced that Rafe had done something to warrant it.

“As if JJ needs a reason to act like the rabid low-class mutt that he is,” your boyfriend spat at her, the vitriol in his voice shocking you.

“JJ wouldn’t do that without a reason,” Sarah yelled at him, face contorted in anger.

“Oh? The same guy who’s always getting into trouble? Whose dad is in and out of jail? Who held a gun to my best friend’s head?”

Kelce hadn’t told you that, and your lips parted as you looked between them. Ward tried to separate them, telling them both to knock it off.

“That same guy?” Rafe sneered.

He scoffed at his sister, disgust and ire in his gaze as he looked her over before turning and breezing past you. You followed him up the stairs, heart racing and worry filling you.

“Rafe…your face…”

He said nothing as he stormed into his room, wiping his mouth with an angry huff, and you hurried into his bathroom. You wet a rag, hands trembling before coming out and approaching him. he still looked so angry, but you forced yourself to ignore it, reminding yourself that he wasn’t angry with you.

You softly called his name, and his gaze softened when it connected with yours. He closed his eyes as you wiped his mouth, gently brushing a finger over his jaw. You took in the damage with a heavy heart, unable to understand why Sarah had a friend like that, why you had had a friend like that.

“Why would he do this to you?”

Your question was barely audible, but Rafe heard you all the same.

“He’s not a good guy,” Rafe mumbled, looking up at you from where he sat. “Do you see that now?”

You swallowed.

“He never was, and it’s why I’d do anything to keep him away from you.”

You sighed, dropping your hand.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, Rafe,” you whispered. “I don’t know why Sarah… Why would she want to be friends with someone like that? Someone who could hurt her brother like this. Especially when you’ve done nothing.”

He didn’t respond, and you sat down beside him, wiping his lips one more time just as he turned to face you. The sight of him all bruised was enough to make your heart clench, and Rafe watched you intently as you leaned in, lips brushing against his.

The kiss was tentative at first, so unsure on your part. You had no memory of kissing anyone, but your subconscious told you that you’d done this many times before. It seemed silly to accept, but your body sort of took over as Rafe deepened the kiss.

It felt like second nature to you, moving your mouth against his. It was sweet at first, maybe even a little passionate, but when Rafe’s hand found the back of your neck, his movements became fueled by hunger. He breathed you in, tongue tasting yours and the inside of your mouth. The metallic taste of his blood slipped through, and the blond groaned.

It became clear to you then not only how much Rafe had missed truly being with you, but also just how much he’d been holding himself back, and that both excited and terrified you.

#rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x reader #obx fic #outer banks

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