#Golfers return to clubs

[httpsserene]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 '𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐰𝐨 | 𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐜𝐬. 𝟓𝟓 & 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒

summary: have you worked every shift possible for a chance of running into carlos and lando? yes. are you mad that you have a month of summer left and you still haven’t stumbled upon them? yes.

content warning: 18+. mdni. explicit sexual content. plot with porn. summer fling/vacation romance. fluff. light angst. light angst with a happy ending. banter. attempt at humor. explicit language. for extended tags, open in ao3.

pairing: poly! carlos sainz jr x lando norris x phd-student! fem!black!reader

word count: 18k words. (new record!)

from, serene: i am extremely proud of what i created. i hope it was worth waiting for, and i can't wait for the next episode !!! my next upload might be an alex albon smau series, for those that requested it. pls pls pls, send me asks and leave comments on this if you'd like! i'd love to hear your thoughts on sip of sunshine, and how it's building so far xxx thank you so much, my loves :) (50 more followers until 3k :o)

this has also been uploaded on my AO3 for anybody who finds it easier to read a fic of this length on there (looking out for those on mobile x)

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Studying for a doctorate does not directly correlate to a person’s brilliance. If you were smart, you wouldn’t have returned to the golf club for another summer with the sole hope of reuniting with the two stunningly fine men you shared a ten-minute conversation with. However, you chose to beat intelligence in a foot race, and here you are: driving the same beverage cart while sweating off your sunscreen for the fifth year in a row; furthermore, you have not crossed paths with Carlos and Lando once in the two months you’ve been working.

It’s difficult to believe that Lando had told the truth when he mentioned that they’ve been attending Club La Moraleja consistently for the past four years. You want to believe him, but the evidence against him is overwhelming. You’ve worked every possible shift this season, at every possible time, on every possible course, without a single spotting of the duo from the beginning of June. 

It’s August. If you allow yourself to think maniacally, you would infer that they’re avoiding you on purpose.

Previously, you were under the assumption that they were obviously flirting with you. The sexual innuendos, double-entendres, calling you a “sip of sunshine,” and the eighty euro tip Carlos left you (which had to be a mistake)—from which you deduced that they were making a move on you. You would even say that their instance in convincing you to return to the green was the smoking gun you needed to seal their fate in the case of you catching their interest. 

Nonetheless, they are nowhere to be found. 

You cope by entertaining the aspect of you suffering from heat stroke or heat exhaustion, and you created Carlos and Lando as a figment of your delusions during your compromised mental state. On the other hand, there’s also a chance that they took your joking threat—of never returning if you had to put up with their subpar pick-up lines—seriously. You didn’t consider that they would misunderstand your teasing banter but, you haven’t seen them a single time this summer.  

It’s unsettling. You’ve never been this disappointed about men not taking the clear hint. 

Obviously, you’d be relieved if any of the sleazy, rude, and archaic golfers stopped bothering you after their first attempt. But, Carlos and Lando? They’re the exact opposite of the men you described. They’re young, polite, funny, charming, and attractive. It’s not outlandish for you to say that there was some budding chemistry between you three.

It’s regrettably characteristic of you to develop crushes on men you haven’t shared more than one conversation with. Too bad you’re never going to see them again. And, screw them! Who do they think they are? It’s not like they’re anybody special—they probably delighted in filling your mind with false hope. 

The next time you see them, you’re running them over with the bev cart. All gas, no breaks.

The motor whirs loudly as you drive over a hill to the last hole of Course Four—and, you’ll be damned.

“Well, look at you! You stayed!”

You can’t tell if this is the universe blessing you or sending you a curse in disguise. 

Lando’s words ring in your ears as your brain fails to compute the sight of him and Carlos smiling at you from across the green, down in a bunker. 

Lando’s…matured beautifully, over the year you haven’t seen him. He was attractive before, but as you direct the cart closer, you can tell he’s grown into himself. There’s a broadness to his shoulders, a sharpness to his eyes, and a hollowness to his cheekbones that certainly makes it impossible for anybody to deny that he’s beautiful. 

Carlos is angeringly more handsome than he was before, somehow. You blame it on the backwards cap and his stupidly wide, warm, beautiful, brown eyes. You cut the engine off, scratching fiendishly at the back of your neck to dispel your thoughts about his nose and lips, how you would pay to see his brown eyes darkened between your thighs.

“Obviously,” you state dryly, roughly tucking the curls that slipped from your ponytail behind your ear, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Their grins falter at your biting tone and they glance at each other in surprise at your irritated response. They climb out of the bunker and walk to meet you at the side of the cart. You’ve turned your back to them, hearing their footsteps approach but you continue to mindlessly organize any cups that shifted out of place as you drove.

“It was just an observation,” the Brit continues, you can hear him still smiling around his words, “A conversation starter, I guess.”

You put on an impassive expression before turning around and staring at the two with your arms crossed, “Mm. Who’s the one who’s bad enough at golf to land in the bunker? Wait—don’t tell me! You’re both probably stuck in the sand trap.” 

Lando’s mouth audibly drops open with an insulted gasp and Carlos’s brow furrows in confusion.

You wave a dismissive hand through the air before they can reply, “What do you want to drink?”

“Uh…What?” Carlos fumbles, lost at your deviation.

“What, ‘what?’” You snap, annoyed at his feigned innocence, like he’s unaware that they lead you on for the entirety of a summer that they just appeared in, “What do you want to drink? As in a refreshment? ¿Una bebida? I know you’re familiar with ordering from the cart as I served you last year—and since you both have been coming here for five years!” [A drink?]

The two stare at you in blatant terror as your voice echoes in the air. Their stunned silence at your “unfounded” anger only serves to exasperate you further.

“Make it quick,” your voice trembles infuriatingly, “What would you like to drink?”

“Did we do something wrong? If we upset you, we have no idea what we did,” Carlos rambles pleadingly. You almost buy it.

“Yeah, what’s with the attitude?” Lando gracefully ruins their chances of being acquitted, “We haven’t seen you in nearly a year; What could we have done wrong?”

“Attitude—are you serious!?” You scoff, insulted at the very idea, before continuing mockingly “Whatever—it’s a beer and a lime mocktail, right? Or, would you prefer a sip of sunshine?”

The men don’t have a chance to edit their orders as you sharply throw open the beer cooler, all three of you flinching as the lid slams into the cart and the bottles and cans clamoring together worryingly. You don’t let the fear of damaged property interrupt your fury as you brandish the beer towards Carlos, snatching your hand away as soon as his closes around the neck of the bottle. 

He murmurs his thanks in his native tongue but the curl of his accent—no matter how alluring it sounds—incenses you further, and you huffily turn your back towards them as you craft Lando’s drink.

The thought of them being truthful about their confusion about your annoyance flares in your mind as you shovel ice into the plastic cup. It’s possible that there has been some miscommunication…but, that would be embarrassing for you to admit. You’ve already acted incredibly rude and like a total brat to them—to customers, at that! Ohmygod, you’ve let your personal emotions affect your work; they could report you to your manager and have you fired. 

Your breath stutters as your overcome with a chill that feels like you’ve dumped ice down your own shirt. The drink is quickly assembled, and you find yourself wishing for a painless death as you fasten an orange slice as garnish on the rim of the cup instead of a lime. A slice of sunshine, if you will.

Meekly, this time around, you offer the cup to Lando. He looks increasingly disturbed at the sudden switch of your demeanor. You watch the Brit glance at his companion, his look clearly communicating that he’s checking if Carlos agrees that you’ve lost your mind, most likely.

The Spaniard must have agreed because Lando giggles nervously, the sound glaringly revealing his discomfort, “You didn’t poison my drink, did you?”

Your brain starts to self-destruct in embarrassment. Carlos hides his face in his free hand, but the sound of pain that escapes him at the ill-timed joke is clear. To be fair, Lando looked like he regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth, but the damage was done. 

Your cheeks burn furiously, you’re simultaneously angry and disappointed in yourself. How could you allow yourself to become overrun by your emotions on the clock? It’s unprofessional and uncharacteristic of you. 

You excuse yourself shakily, “I-I am so sorry. Perdóname. I was rude to you both for no reason. I apologize sincerely for my behavior. Do not worry about paying, your drinks are on me. I hope you both enjoy yourself on the green—Buenas tardes.” [Forgive me; Good afternoon.]

Carlos and Lando are silent as you scamper into the driver’s seat, tail figuratively tucked between your legs. The ride back to the clubhouse is silent as you berate yourself for your stupidity. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to forget the way you ruined your chances with them. You already know your subconscious will play this on repeat every time you try to sleep. The cart beeps as you reverse into its assigned spot. Isabel, one of the fellow cart girls—and your best friend—waves at you with a smile as she walks over towards you. She must be the next on shift.

“You look like you’ve just been fired,” Isa’s smile has transformed into a look of concern, “¿Estás bien?” [Are you okay?]

Grabbing your belongings, you slide out of the driver's seat with a haunted look in your eyes. “You remember the two guys I told you about? From last summer? I think I just scared them away.”

“No,” Isa exhales in denial, pulling you into a hug, “There’s no way. What happened?”

“I yelled at them and insulted them for being bad at golf,” you mumble, yelping sharply as she  communicates her displeasure by slapping at your arm, “I was mad at them, okay! They were pretending to be innocent, like they had no clue they avoided me for the entire summer! They’re going to complain to the Club and get me fired because I was unprofessional and rude!”

“Ay! You don’t know that! You still served them, and apologized right?” Isa brightens further when you mention you served them for free, she ignores your pout as you rub your hand against the stinging skin of your bicep, “Then, it’s probably nothing. If they do complain, this is your first complaint ever. You won’t get fired—you will just have to wash the carts for the rest of the summer.”

You fall to your knees on the hot concrete in despair and Isa snorts at your dramatics, bending to pluck the cart keys from your pocket. 

“I’m just going to quit, inmediamente!” [Immediately!]

“If you quit, I quit,” Isa reminds you, “And, out of the two of us, I need this job. I’m broke. So, you can’t quit, unless you want me to suffer.”

“I would take care of you,” you beg, “I have my office job back in the States. You could marry me and get a green card! Let me quit!”

Isa cackles at the concept, “You hate your office job. Anyway, quitting won’t save you from your colleagues here. Don’t forget we’re all going out tomorrow night! You can’t escape this time, you promised me.”

You groan in indignation, “Is it a crime to not like clubbing every night?”

“¡Sí, lo es!,” She frowns, “It’s clubbing every night in Madrid! And, I need moral support if I have to watch Lucas flirt with Sofia. I don’t know what he sees in her.” [Yes, it is!]

Grumbling fitfully, you wish her a good shift before dragging yourself into the Clubhouse. You’re still quitting. There’s not a chance in hell that you’re coming back next summer—there is nothing worth staying for anymore. Sorry, Isa.

Out of all the shifts you’ve worked, the 8 A.M. to 3 P.M. is your least favorite. You blink blearily as you hang up your belongings in the same locker you chose four years ago, fighting the urge to rub at your eyes, with the thought of not smearing your mascara. Pinning your nametag on your pressed shirt is muscle memory, and you slide on a club-branded visor to protect your face because the UV index is concerningly high today. 

You pause to stare at the photos pinned to the inside of your locker door—they date from your very first summer till now, with familiar faces and some you haven’t seen in a while. It’s heartwarming. You haven’t posted a single one of these photos in here; your friends do it on their own (the password to your locker is apparently community knowledge—you could change it, but then you’d stop collecting them), taping Polaroids from moments on the course to shenanigans off the course to nights out in the city, with captions and notes written on the back. 

The sense of belonging and community you found here is why it was so difficult to come to a decision about leaving this place and its people behind. Your lips tilt up at a photo of you and the cart team covering your boss’s car in sticky notes two summers ago—he made you all collect the stray golf balls from the putting green that night in retaliation. And, he laughed deeply as the sprinklers drenched all of you, which is another few snapshots commemorated in your locker. 

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to leave.

“Mami,” Lilia, the receptionist on duty this morning, calls you from the locker room door, “The two really hot Formula One drivers are asking for you?”

You shoot a look of confusion her way, “huh—why me? I don’t know them?”

“Umm, yes you do?” Lilia mirrors your bafflement, “They say you’ve served them before. And that they want to apologize for something?”

“¿Qué?”

“I don’t know! I’m just repeating what they told me—” The brunette woman cuts herself short, and her eyes narrow after a moment, “Hey, if they’re bothering you, I’ll get them banned. I didn’t tell them that you were here, I just said I’d check to see if you had come in. Did they bother you? Don’t lie to me! I’ll call security and get them gone!”

“What, no! I don’t know them, or even know what Formula One is! I haven’t had a bad interaction or served any drivers—oh.” Your stomach sinks as your eyes shut woefully, “I fucked up.”

Lilia threatens to get them banned again when she sees the bronze skin of your face lose its luster. You tell her to let them know you’ll be out in a moment and to not threaten them. You step to the full-length mirror to check your appearance and adjust your uniform. Centering yourself with a few deep breaths, you turn the door handle and make your way out to the reception desk.

The squeaking of your sneakers on the tile floor only adds to your anticipation. A small part of you hopes that Carlos and Lando aren’t the Formula One drivers asking for you, and that this is all some misunderstanding. You feel your soul die inside of you as your eyes meet theirs. Their expressions look determined and apologetic, and your palms feel sweaty as you come to terms with them preparing to file a formal complaint. 

Lilia clears her throat abruptly from where she’s pretending to organize membership files. You see a blush bloom on Carlos and Lando’s cheeks as they realize that they’ve been staring at you without saying anything for longer than what’s politely appropriate, but you beat them to the chase.

“Buenos días. U-umm,” you anxiously scratch at the nape of your neck, “…Is this about yesterday? Or the tip you left last summer? It was too generous to not be an accident. It’s past our refund period, but I can reach out to the manager on duty to see if we can work something out.” [Good morning.]

“I gave you eighty euros on purpose,” Carlos states without doubt, and you feel Lilia’s stare piercing your side profile.

“Oh.”

“I wanted to speak to you about yesterday—”

You cut in, “Yesterday was my fault! I think I misunderstood you both and I overreacted. It was nothing personal—”

Lando clasps his hands together, interrupting you with an imploring tone, “It was personal, though. Which is fine, I think we deserved it. Especially if there was a misunderstanding on our part. We would’ve communicated with you clearer if we were sure that you were on the same page as us. We would appreciate it if you would allow us to make it up to you.”

Lilia kicks your ankle underneath the desk, doing enough freaking out for the both of you as you struggle to keep your face calm.

“I feel like I’m still the one at fault for the miscommunication. But—how were you planning to…smooth things over, I guess?” You ask.

“Allow us to take you to dinner tonight, and explain,” Carlos finishes, weaponizing those eyes of his, helped by Lando softening his own at you desperately for a chance.

“Oh—um, I would love to, really, but I already have plans tonight—,” You’re getting tired of being interrupted, but Lilia is quick to clear your schedule.

“No!” The raven-haired woman jumps up from her seat, slapping her hand on the counter forcefully, causing the three of you to jump. “She’s free tonight!” She smiles scaringly wide at Carlos and Lando.

Lilia turns to you and her smile and voice quiets to something genuine, “I will explain to the others about why you could not make it. Isa will understand as long as you remember to keep us both updated, yes?”

You roll your eyes, resigned , “Yes.”

You’re surprised at the tentative happiness growing in the boys’ appearances, “I guess I can do dinner tonight. What’s the plan?”

Phone numbers are exchanged and they agree to pick you up from your house at seven. They linger through their goodbyes, clearly not wanting to end the conversation. It’s flattering that they're willingly exposing their obsession with you so soon. You shoo them away with the reminder of seeing each other tonight and the fact that you are, in fact, on the clock. Lilia slaps you on the arm repeatedly as you watch them exit through the front doors with a dreamy sigh.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Lilia lets out a scream of excitement and pulls you into a hug, the two of you jumping up and down overwhelmed with joy. You’re caught by your boss Marco, who takes one glance before he turns around to head back into his office, forcing the two of you into hysterical giggles. 

You pull back from her, and you can’t quiet the large grin dancing on your lips, “I have no idea what to wear!”

Carlos texted you twenty minutes ago alerting you that they’re on the way to pick you up. Lando added that they can’t wait to see you a minute later. You were ready thirty minutes before they started heading your way. Ten minutes ago you decided to change your entire outfit. You settled on a linen cropped tank and matching maxi skirt with a pair of sandals. You fiddle with your accessories endlessly, and you do the same with a few stray curls that refuse to sit where you want them.

Grabbing your purse and phone, you rush out of your room and down the stairs to find your parents in the kitchen adding the finishing touches to their own dinner.

“¡Mija—qué bonita!” your mom gasps, wiping her hands on a towel before she pulls you closer to look at you, “Where have you been hiding this outfit?” [My daughter, how beautiful she is!]

“Má, I’ve had it for a while,” you subject yourself to her cooing and prodding as she spins you around, looking at your dad for help, who only offers you a shrug, “—I just have not had anywhere to wear it.”

“Hm? Then, what’s so special about tonight? I thought you were clubbing with your friends, no?” You avoid meeting her prying eyes, pretending to find interest in what’s simmering on the stove.

“Eh, why is there a Ferrari outside of my house?” your dad asks, drawing your attention to the front window. The sleek black convertible is parked by the curb, and your phone buzzes in your hands. Lando has informed you of their arrival, and you quickly tell them you’ll be right out to avoid them coming to the door. You don’t know if they’re “meet the parents” caliber yet, Ferrari or not.

“Don’t worry about it, Papà. I’ll text you when I’m on my way back tonight,” you press kisses to both of your parents’ cheeks, “Save some food for me to take to work tomorrow, please?”

Your mom pinches your ear, “Ay! You are going on a date? Finally! Is he handsome on top of being rich? A Ferrari is okay as long as he is as beautiful as the car, you know?”

Your dad makes a noise of complaint as he follows you both towards the door, “A Ferrari is more than okay as long as he respects you and treats you well. And, if he buys me a Ferrari too—ask him for me.” 

You fuss at them, flustered but smug as you ignore your dad’s request, and you turn to smirk at your mom, “Papà, I plan to find outfit they treat me well tonight. Mamá. They’re both gorgeous.”

Your dad blinks in confusion as your mom crows in delight, “¡Mija! I knew I raised you properly! ¡Vas, vas! Have fun and you have to tell me everything when you get back, yes?” [My girl!; Go, go!]

“Sí, Mamá. ¡Muchos besos, te quiero!” You slip out of the door, the sound of your mother explaining that you’ve garnered the interest of two men to your father fading behind you as you walk to the car. [Yes, mom. Kisses, I love you!]

Carlos and Lando are waiting for you on the curb, the engine purring lowly behind them. Your gait slows as you near, and the Spaniard reaches out to press his lips to the back of your hand fleetingly. 

They’ve dressed well; Lando in a light gray, short-sleeved, collared, v-neck that rests untucked over white chinos and a pair of gray sneakers to match. He’s sprinkled with bracelets, a few of them decorate his toned forearms on both wrists, and there’s a singular silver chain peeking from the cut of his shirt. Carlos is dressed similarly with the white chinos, yet he’s chosen a light blue button-up with the first few buttons undone, and a pair of dress shoes. His outfit is complimented by a dazzling watch. 

You murmur a greeting to both men, unable to hold eye contact with either of them for long. It’s one thing to fantasize that you have a chance with men clearly out of your league, and it’s another thing to have to muster up the confidence to speak to them outside of your uniform. 

Lando impatiently shifts on his feet as the older man keeps hold of your hand for longer than necessary. When you’re released, Lando takes it a step further and pulls you into a hug, his body heated and solid against yours. A shiver runs down your spine when his hand rests on the exposed skin of the small of your back. You hum, pleased as you inhale the velvety scent of his cologne, missing the closeness as he pulls away from you a beat later.

You step back, your heart thudding as you quip, “I didn’t know we were on hugging terms already.”

“I’m sorry,” Lando flushes easily, and Carlos chuckles, “I should’ve asked if it was okay.”

“I liked it,” you smile at him, pretending as if your heart isn’t pounding forcefully from the brief embrace, “I-I mean, it was fine, don’t worry.”

The Brit hums at your response, his eyes drifting along your form before meeting yours again with a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. His blush recedes as yours strengthens, now apparent on your darker skin. 

“Lovely house,” he withdraws, and you’re thankful he avoided commenting on the evident flush he invoked with nothing more than a hug and a pass of his eyes.

“Thank you, my parents bought it and moved here after I started university,” you explain needlessly, “They’re pretty great. They were the ones who made me apply for the position at La Moraleja. So, really, it’s them you have to credit with us meeting, I suppose.”

“We also have to thank them for having a beautiful daughter,” Carlos alleges smoothly.

You fluster, “I-I’ll pass the message along. Both of you are very handsome, but I think you guys hear that often.”.

“Don’t worry. It sounds sweeter coming from you,” Lando edits his point with an impish grin, “—and from Carlos too, sometimes.”

“Don’t be a brat, Lando,” the Spaniard’s voice is light as he entertains the younger, “Unfortunately, I think we will be late if we continue to stand here and flirt in the street,” Carlos says, and his eyes shift to look past you and at your house, “—And, I think your dad might come outside and kill us. Which would not be very pleasant, in my opinion.”

You spin around, chagrined at the sight of your dad watching the three of you with a harsh stare. 

“Yes! Let’s get going, I would hate to be late. Ignore him, please.” Lando waves at your dad anyways, endearing himself to you further, “And, you won’t have to worry about being murdered as long as you get him a Ferrari.”

The two men startle into laughter at that, and you hold your hands up candidly, “What? His words, not mine!”

You didn’t account for the oddness of one of you sitting in the backseat, but Lando assigns himself to the back, claiming that you have “passenger princess” rights. 

The wind ruffles through your curls aimlessly as Carlos drives towards your destination. The ride is filled with endless chatter and flirting. A smile is constantly on your face as the three of you speak through topics easily. There’s not a single time you feel like an outsider, even though it’s clear how familiar they are with each other. 

The restaurant you find yourself in isn’t screaming its extravagance at you, which is surprising. While it’s dimly lit, and you can hear live music thrumming through the air from somewhere deeper inside over the lively chatter—it feels like a classic restaurant, intimate and comfortable. Like somewhere you could go for a nice dinner often.

The hostess straightens upwards with recognition when she spots Carlos and she greets the three of you good naturedly before disappearing to check if your table is ready. 

The Spaniard notices the surprise on your face, “My family and I have dined here since I was young. You have never come here before? ”

You shake your head, “I’m a little jealous, if I’m being honest,” Carlos tilts his head, listening, “I’m mad I didn’t discover this place sooner. The atmosphere is amazing!”

The hostess returns, gesturing for you all to follow after her and Lando grasps your hand to catch your attention as you walk, “If you think the vibe is amazing, just wait until you try the food.”

The table is not in direct sight of anyone besides the kitchen, clearly a spot meant for privacy. Your hidden behind a half wall and a screen overgrown with plants, and the volume of the restaurant seems quieter through the barrier. You lean back in your chair as the three of you wrap up the discussion about yesterday’s conflict.

“I feel incredibly stupid now,” you chuckle, embarrassed. The brown skin of your face burns hot. You focus on the empty wine glass in front of you, avoiding their eyes plainly.

“No,” Carlos’s voice is stern, the serious tone shocking you into looking at him, “Do not be rude to yourself—you are not stupid.”

You stare, dumbfounded, reeling as you process the manner in which he shut down your negative self-talk. If his words totally dissolved your mortification over your immature reaction to seeing them again, you might have thought harder about how that was kind of hot of him to do.

“Aren’t you studying for a PhD?” Lando asks rhetorically, “I think that literally means you’re not stupid.”

You scoff lightly—feeling humored instead of humiliated—at how easily he swept away the tension with a light-hearted comment. The Brit doesn’t know how many people have enlightened you with the knowledge that common sense is, unfortunately, uncommon in post-grad. But, you’ll let his words wash away your self-deprecation lest this turns into an unsolicited therapy session instead of a date an apology dinner.

“Fine. I’m not stupid—but, you can’t deny that it wasn’t a little dumb of me to assume that you guys had lied to me about visiting the golf club every year. And, it was a little more dumb of me to make my decision about working here for another season just because there was a chance that I could see you guys—never mind.” Your teeth clack together forcefully as you slam your mouth shut.

The duo straighten up at the sudden end to your sentence, brains quickly filling in the blanks for them. Lando’s poorly attempting to hide his satisfied smile behind his hand and Carlos’s eyes are bright with understanding. You’ve learned your lesson about making hasty assumptions but you don’t think it’s foolish to deduce this means that they’re actually interested in you too, this time around.

“Ah. Well, we should not have assumed that you knew we were Formula One drivers, which maybe was obvious from how you spoke to us,” Carlos shrugs his shoulders, leveling the blame, “And, I think it’s sweet that you were hoping to run into us again.”

“Mmm,” you hum nervously, “I think it’s delusional.”

One of their shoes knocks against yours underneath the table and you jump in surprise. Carlos’s chest shakes with a silent laugh and his eyebrow raises at you pressingly.

“We should’ve asked for your number last summer,” Lando adds nonchalantly. 

You rattle at his boldness, and you’re given a moment to ponder that as the waiter stops to pour you and Carlos a glass of white wine (Lando refused). You take a brief sip, humming pleasantly at the light and easy flavor, the live music and easy conversation floating through the air providing you a reprieve from your immersion in the two men. 

Your attention is recaptured as you watch Carlos offer Lando a chance to taste from his glass. 

Earlier, the Brit had told you he dislikes the taste of most alcohols when the waiter stepped away to grab the bottle Carlos requested. Yet, Lando accepts, not without making his distaste apparent with an adorable frown. He takes the tiniest sip possible with a look of apprehension and recoils from the glass as he swallows, his nose scrunching in disgust as he shakes his head to further sell his distate. 

Carlos rolls his eyes and laughs, revealing to you how used he is to Lando’s dramatics. He raises a hand to rub at the short hair on the nape of the younger’s neck in comfort.

The look on your face must be cloyingly sweet if the light dust of pink that rises to the Brit’s cheeks when he realizes you’ve watched the entire interaction, is meaningful. Carlos’s eyes become intense when he spots how Lando curls into himself shyly under your eyes. The Spaniard whispers, his volume low enough for only Lando to hear and you wish you knew exactly what was said, because it deepens the tint of his cheeks to a furious red. 

You figure you’ll save him from his torment by bringing up the important stuff.

“So, you only have a month of summer vacation,” you start, fingers fiddling with the edge of a fan-folded napkin, “Which is in August. That’s…so short. My fall semester starts the first week of September.”

Silence falls as they digest the underlying meaning of your sentence. Is it in everyone’s best interest to start something that has to end so soon? Is it in your best interest to risk catching feelings for two athletes (celebrity-athletes, at that) during the last month of your break? 

“A month is a long time,” the younger man starts, his blue-green eyes intent, “We’ll just have to make the most out of it, right? I want to get to know you more, and I have a feeling that the three of us will have a fun time together—If you want to give it a try.”

“A ‘fun time’? Like—like a fling?” Your expression remains indifferent as you ask. You need them to clarify what they want out of this without revealing your emotions. It’s only proper for you to prevent any future miscommunication or misunderstanding about this; you learned from your earlier mistake.

Lando’s earnest gaze has lost some of its shine, and Carlos’s eyes now seem guarded.

“Calling it a fling is harsh,” the Spaniard responds, “It’s more of a summer romance, no?”

Your laugh isn’t genuine, but they don’t know you well enough to discern that, “Alright, I’ll give our ‘summer romance’ a chance. Using a synonym doesn’t change the definition, you know?” 

Lando cocks his head at you, staring deeply. It feels like he’s trying to puzzle you out, and you stare back in feigned confusion.

“It’s nothing,” He relaxes, leaning back in his chair and moving Carlos’s glass out of the way as he sees the waiter nearing the table with your appetizers, “I just find it odd that you called yourself stupid earlier.” You don’t know what to make of that, but it’s forgotten as the starters are devoured and the conversation shifts into them getting to know you and vice versa.

The older man with them at the golf course last year was Carlos’s father, who is a two-time Rally World Champion. You’re surprised to learn that they’ve only been dating for around a year. Lando says he developed a crush on Carlos when they were teammates at Mclaren, but he was afraid of ruining their relationship and potentially, his career, if he confessed–so he kept quiet. Carlos didn’t realize he was romantically interested in Lando until he signed his contract with Ferrari. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupt, “If you guys have only been together for a year, did you get together before or after you saw me at the golf course for the first time?”

“A year and three months,” the Spaniard corrects with a serene smile, “Our anniversary was in May.”

The Brit continues for him, “—Which means we started dating about three months before we saw you. Give or take a few weeks.”

You gave a low whistle of surprise—three months into their relationship and they were on the same page about chasing after you. Since then, they had several serious conversations about adding a third to their relationship but hadn’t found or looked for anybody they’d consider to try with. Besides you.

Obviously, they like playing golf; Lando is abysmal, and Carlos is not bad at it. Carlos has two sisters, Lando has a brother and two sisters. Both of them are middle children. Lando is a picky eater, and hates fish and seafood. Carlos will eat anything Lando doesn’t. Lando founded a company with his best friend. Carlos is a Real Madrid fanatic. Lando occasionally streams on Twitch. Carlos enjoys surfing and cycling.

“I’m sorry for saying that you guys sucked at golf yesterday,” you apologize sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” the Brit says, unperturbed, “I do suck at golf. I just wasn’t expecting to hear it come from you.”

“I suck less at golf,” the older man states, “But, if I was good, I would not have been in the sand pit in the first place, no?”

They visit Spain often because family is important to Carlos. Lando’s loved like another son by Carlos’s family and Carlos is loved the same by Lando’s family. Lando is needy. Carlos likes being needed. Carlos is mildly possessive. Lando is too self-critical. Carlos makes the best pancakes. Lando wants to build a beautiful vintage car collection.

They want to see you again. You enjoyed dinner more than you thought was possible. 

They defrosted your nerves and allowed your personality to shine through. It helps that they were actively listening as you complained and gushed over your studies, told anecdotes of the shenanigans you and the others got up to on the golf course, and spoke about your future outlooks. They didn’t mind your lack of knowledge about Formula One and explained the sport in detail to you. They were determined to figure out what made you mad, what made you happy, what made you laugh, what made you shy—and, what made you go pink.

It didn’t take them long to discern that staring at your lips is the trick. When they made that discovery, they weaponized it the entire night. While one of them played with the rings on your fingers or tucked a curl behind your ear, the other managed to fluster you by letting their eyes wander for a few seconds before meeting yours again with increasing intensity. You experienced heart failure several times, and had to ask them to repeat themselves more frequently thanks to their psychological warfare.

Your heart feels like it may cease to function again as they walk you to your doorstep. The lights inside the house are off, you returned later than you thought you would. Your parents left the porch light on for you and it casts an amber warmth. Carlos and Lando don’t invite themselves into your space as you dig your house keys out of your purse, ever the polite men. The sound of your keys jingling harmonizes with your triumphant hum as you pull them out. 

You face the boys, placing your hand on the doorknob behind you, waiting for them to speak. 

“Are we forgiven for unintentionally leading you to believe that we led you on and wasted your time?” Lando blurts out.

You knock your head back against the doorframe, abashed, shutting your eyes to dispel the HD playback your brain gifts you with. “If you both agree to never bring it up again, I’ll forgive you.”

“I suddenly do not know what we’re talking about,” Carlos nods seriously, and Lando echoes the sentiment.

You release the doorknob and take the few steps towards them. As you expected, their eyes simultaneously drift to stare at your mouth. You lightly place a hand on Carlos’s shoulder before leaning up and brushing your lips across his cheek in the lightest ghost of a kiss, before moving to Lando and doing the same.

You carefully backpedal to the door turning to insert your key into the lock, before you look back at them. Your heart flutters at the sight of Carlos, who’s frozen, standing all wide-eyed and pressing his fingers to his cheek like he’s unsure if he imagined the kiss. Lando however, looks hungry. His eyes are the darkest you’ve seen tonight, and they’re locked on how you teasingly flick your tongue across your bottom lip.

“While we may only have a month to spend together—it doesn’t mean I’m easy. I, at least!—need a second date before I let you do anything more than stare at my lips and hold my hand. It might take three dates before I even let you kiss my cheek,” you tease with a joking shrug of your shoulders.

“It’s a good thing that you have my phone number,” the lock clicks open, and you push the door open, “If you don’t use it to set up another date, I think I’ll have no choice but to never forgive you guys.”

“We’ll be using it,” Carlos asserts, recovered from the daze you left him in.

“Hm, good. Text me when you get home.” You step in your entryway, waving your fingers at the two of them leisurely, “Buenas noches.” [Goodnight.]

They mimic your goodbye and you shut the door, clicking the lock. You nosily peek through the peephole to spy on their reactions. Carlos tugs Lando into a bear hug, their wide smiles hidden as they press into each other and the sharpest pitch squeal you’ve heard from Lando travels through the front door. You cover your own giggle with a hand as you watch the two of them kiss and almost skip down your driveway back to the car. You press your back to the door with a deep sigh, a lovestruck smile painting your face while you lay limp to let your heartbeat slow to a normal speed.

The hallway light flicks on and you shriek as your mom stares at you with a deranged smile on her lips, “Tell me everything!”

“Mamá! What are you doing up? It’s late!” You exclaim, straightening upwards with your hands on your hips, failing at distracting her from how you were weak in the knees a couple of seconds ago. “It’s okay, mija! I’ll start a fresh pot of coffee for us and you can tell me all about your date!” She rushes forward, grabbing your hand to pull you into the kitchen.

Ironically, the second date ends up being late night mini golf. Even better, you destroy them at it. It wasn’t an easy feat, they made plenty of attempts to sabotage and distract you; whether it was yelling, spooking, poking, or prodding at you as you readied your putt, but it wasn’t enough to give them a chance of catching up. 

You figure more of your mistakes were from being unable to stop laughing as the two performed atrociously. Carlos ended up polluting every water feature with golf balls and Lando couldn’t manage to finish a single hole in under 8 strokes—the highest par was 6. You patted Lando on the back consolingly, telling him to find comfort in the fact that they’re equally terrible at putt-putt golf.

The two seemed surprised at your finesse with a club, almost like they’d forgotten you work on a golf course. You may not be a caddy, but you’ve had plenty of time to work on perfecting your technique. You did well enough to place sixth on the leaderboard, the employees said that Carlos’ score might be the worst they’ve ever seen.

With their egos severely bruised, you convinced them to soothe the loss over with ice cream at a neighboring parlor. Lando was satisfied with plain vanilla and Carlos with a scoop of dulce de leche. You elected for cookies and cream, but found yourself being fed their flavors as well. 

The sugary treats were delicious. Watching them stare at your lips pursed around a spoonful of ice cream was far more delectable. Lando broke the fourth time you managed to dot a bit of vanilla above your upper lip. He choked on a whine before leaning into your space. He hesitated a hair’s width away from your lips, his shuddering exhales mixing with yours, his eyes searching for approval. Your eyes fluttered shut and Lando closed the gap. 

His lips were soft and chilled, a result of the ice cream. Warmth blossomed in your chest as you leaned into the kiss, the taste of vanilla lingering in the embrace. His hand raised to cradle your cheek as your lips brushed together languidly, the sound of your heart racing within your chest fading out as you become absorbed by the kiss. 

Lando pulls away, falling back into his seat with his chest heaving. You stare after him with wide eyes, jolting out of it when you notice you’ve dropped your spoon into your lap, Carlos’s dulce de leche ice cream spilling onto your thigh. 

“Do I get to lick this off your thigh since Lando got to kiss it off your lips?” Carlos asks, his tone half genuine, half facetious.

You kick at his ankle underneath the booth and he throws his hands up placatingly. 

“Wait–,” you anxiously flit your eyes around the parlor, “—you shouldn’t have kissed me here Lando. Out in public? Aren’t people going to recognize—”

“We’ve been the only people in here for the past thirty minutes or so,” Lando interrupts, gathering the near-empty dishes and balled-up napkins, “They’ve also been closed for twenty minutes. When you went to the bathroom when we came in, Carlos and I signed something for the owner who was more than happy to keep things quiet for his second favorite Spanish Formula One driver.”

“Second favorite?” Carlos furrows his eyebrows at his boyfriend, his umber eyes adorably confused.

“Mate,” the Brit scoffs, “I might be in love with you ‘n all but we're not going to act like Fernando isn’t the best thing that came out of Spain, besides churros.”

The unfavored Spaniard holds his hand to his chest in betrayal before his eyes narrow and he moves to assault Lando with a pinch to his chest. While you’d love to continue watching this disguised act of foreplay, you would rather be a participant than a voyeur.

“¡Cabrónes!” The two freeze, heads snapping to look at you as your voice cuts through the catfight.

“I think the owner would be even happier if you licked the ice cream off my thigh outside of his parlor so he could finally lock up, sí?”

How Lando kisses with a desperate hunger, Carlos kisses with a ravaging heat. Like he wants to roast your nerve endings with every brush of his lips against yours.

The fiery press of his mouth stokes the arousal building in your navel. His hand tangles in your hair as he directs the tilt of your head. A stuttered whimper slips from your mouth into his as your tongues glide together, a buzzing sensation tingling down your spine as his other hand squeezes your waist tightly.

He walks you backward towards the bed, his lips devouring yours as you wrap your arms around his neck, attempting to pull your bodies even closer than they are. You stumble, gasping when his hand palms your ass and it’s the first time your lips have separated since Carlos claimed them in the hallway.  He tumbles into you as his feet stumble around yours, the darkness of the bedroom not bettering the situation. He nearly sends you both to the floor instead of the plush mattress if not for Lando catching your body and a hand firmly pressed to Carlos’s chest to hold him upright, expletives falling from your mouths until balance is restored.

You rest your forehead on the older man’s collarbone as you abruptly giggle at being so kiss drunk you forgot how to backpedal. The two drivers have no choice but to laugh at the sound of your amusement, Lando cackling and Carlos’s chest shaking with his laughter. 

“I’m not against fucking on the floor,” Lando voices, the sound of his grin loud enough for you to visualize, “But—can we at least have our first time with you on this extremely comfortable bed?”

“First time?” You raise a brow jokingly, nonchalantly pulling your shirt over your head and letting it fall to the floor, “That implies you’re thinking there’s gonna be a second.”

The Spaniard steps away to click the nightstand lamp on, the room partially bathed in warm yellow light. Your eyes adjust seamlessly to the low lighting, allowing you to revel in the sight of him appreciating your exposed skin, even when covered with a plain black bra—you’ve never been more thankful to be wearing a matching pair of panties.

The younger man unclasps the latch of the garment, dragging the straps down your arms, goosebumps rising in the wake of his fingertips, and the bra lands atop your shirt. You feel his breath cascade heatedly along your left shoulder before his lips purse delicately against the brown skin. 

He nips closer to the crook of your neck, lowly murmuring, “I know we’ll be having you for more than a third time.”

Surely feeling left out, Carlos unzips your skirt, tugging it down your hips and offering a hand for you to hold as you step free of it, “Many more times. But for tonight,” the older man pauses, toying with the band of your panties, looking at you with a smirk, “We must settle on saving the floor for round two. After we have caused you to ruin the sheets.”

Internally, you scream in elation. Two men eager to fuck you stupid, for the rest of your summer—you pray they’re not bluffing. You can’t remember the last time you’ve had sex good enough for a repeat performance. Externally, you shimmy out of your panties and tug at the hem of Carlos’ button-up once you’re bare. 

“If you want me to ruin your sheets, I’m pretty sure that requires you both to be less clothed.”

Lando’s free of everything but his briefs in a handful of seconds while Carlos struggles to unbutton his shirt. The younger pulls you into bed, guiding you to lay on your back as he holds himself over you, dipping to kiss you messily, unafraid to let his moans knit with yours. By the time the older man has lost his clothes and joined the two of you on the bed, the Brit’s focus has traveled down the length of your neck to your chest. Reddened marks bloom on your bronzed skin, mottled across your decolletage in a pattern only known as desire. 

He laves his tongue against a pebbled nipple, his teeth scraping the sensitive bud, delighting in the way your body arches upwards into his mouth. Your hand pulls tightly at brunette curls, his resulting whimper at the burn of his scalp muffled around your breast, his eyes screwing shut. You loosen your grasp, unable to determine if that was a positive reaction and you’re pleased to see his eyes fly open, his gaze demanding more. His large hand envelopes your wrist, attempting to have you further mess up his hair, but the motion is halted when Carlos cocks Lando’s head backward with an unrelenting fist. 

The younger man shudders, his eyes rolling at the rough treatment. He rises to lessen the pressure of his boyfriend’s grasp, settling into a kneel between your legs with Carlos pressed to his back. The burn of his scalp subsides when the hold weakens, the tension leaving the younger man in a breath and his head droops back on a broad shoulder.

The Spaniard captivates your attention as he presses a kiss to Lando’s jaw, moving the same hand that was in his boyfriend’s hair to splay against his abdomen, a finger dipping to poke at his bellybutton, causing Lando to jolt with a whine. Carlos coos, calming the man with a rub of hand along his torso.  

“Don’t let him fool you. He likes a bit of pain,” Carlos tweaks Lando’s nipple demonstratively, letting the sight of the younger man’s arousal jumping underneath his briefs accompanied by a strangled moan speak for itself. “He’s a brat, even if he likes to pretend otherwise. A little sting is enough to remind him how to act…most times. Right, Landito?”

The man moves to hide his face in Carlos’s neck as if it’ll hide the sight of him nodding in confirmation. It doesn’t help that the meek “yes” he breathes into the muscle isn’t muffled at all.

“And because he wants to be good,” Carlos continues, pulling at Lando’s waistband and releasing it to snap against flushed, pink skin, “He’s going to keep himself busy with you while I see if I can still taste the dulce on your thigh. Is that okay with you?”

You gulp, anticipatory. “M-more than okay.”

The younger man's eyes are all pupil, ringed with stormy-colored irises as he’s lowered by your side. You were contemplating teasing him about his brat complex—but the haze of his eyes causes you to reconsider.

The gap of his teeth remains adorable even as he bites his lips, the plush skin reddened and raw from where he’s already scraped the skin off. Prolonged eye contact from him seems impossible—his gaze flits away from yours after a handful of seconds. He struggles to decide where to look, happening upon your lips, zoning out with a yearning pout. Lando is clueless to the effect of his fixation; he reignites the redness on your cheeks and the skipping of your heartbeat.

Frightened by Carlos’s spit-slicked lips brushing along the bone of your ankle, you twitch, breaking Lando’s trance. 

The Brit’s blush deepens when he notices you’ve been watching him stare without saying a word. He muffles a mortified whimper into a pillow, smushing his face so deeply into the fabric you worry he may strangle himself. You glance at Carlos for assistance and the man only nods in the younger’s direction, continuing to drag his mouth up your legs, pausing to suckle the skin of your thighs and smirking when he feels the muscles flex underneath his lips.

“Lando, chico,” you croon, petting a hand through the curls at the crown of his head, “Look at me.”

He peeks an eye at you shyly, turning to face you fully, reassured at the enamored look you cover him with.

“Besamé,” you murmur, knowing it’s something Lando’s heard plenty of times from the man nestled between your legs. [Kiss me.] 

The younger understood, rushing to press his lips to yours filthly. The frantic energy is winsome, your chest tightening at the sounds of him whining and mewling needily into your mouth. He licks into your mouth insistently, his attention devoted to tasting the remaining sweetness of ice cream on your tongue. From below, Carlos hums as his tongue polishes off the remaining stickiness on your bronzed skin.

The sounds they rip from you are muffled by the younger man, but the grunt of annoyance Carlos makes as the lingering dulce de leche flavoring of your thigh disappears is clear. He drags his tongue against your labia in one firm stroke, your abdomen undulating at the unexpected attention to your cunt. He smacks his lips, savoring, before a moan rumbles through his chest.

“Better than the ice cream,” he announces, the brown of his iris darkened with greed. 

Lando frees your lips to look at his boyfriend pleadingly, and you take the time to breathe. He left you lightheaded as he kissed every ounce of oxygen from your lungs.

“ ‘wanna taste, ” Lando begs, and Carlos pulls up to meld their lips together, and you're briefly hypnotized by the muscles of his arms contracting through the movement.

The most reedy whine escapes the curly-haired man as Carlos shares the taste of your arousal with him. Your head is filled with the sound of blood rushing through your ears, buffering at the sight of the two men feasting on your essence—what were you thinking when you agreed to be a summer romance? You’re never going to be able to recover from this, and they haven’t even fucked you yet.

They separate, Lando’s chest heaving as he licks along his lips in search of any faint traces of your taste. Carlos resituates himself between your thighs, his voice carrying a firm edge, “Wait your turn, cariño. Keep being good for me—for us, yes?”

The younger man seems small as he nods, appearing a little empty-headed at the command, but he obeys. Turning back to peck your lips sweetly, Lando trails downward to leave a few marks of his own along the column of your neck.

You grab his jaw lightly, “No marks—,” the light in his eyes dulls slightly, “—that high up.” He brightens and lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nipping at your skin, energized by your nails scratching along his scalp.

Your mouth parts in a silent gasp as Carlos joins in. He laps between your folds sloppily, his nose knocking your clit with every bob pf his head. The hand that isn’t buried in brunette curls fists in Carlos’s locks of hair, holding him steady while he prods at your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

Your brain buzzes, toes curling as the older man eats you out, the sounds of him enjoying his meal reverberating through the air, harmonizing with your cries and Lando’s snuffles as he toys with your nipples.

Carlos presses a finger inside, thrusting shallowly against your fluttering walls and his mouth purses around your bud, the suckle of his lips puppeteering your spine into arching and your hips into bucking. His stubble scratches your thighs, the scrape searing but adding to your gratification.

He curls upwards, dragging roughly through the clenching of your cunt, adding a second finger that your walls swallow voraciously. The ache of the stretch is calmed quickly by the ample leaking of your arousal and the constant attention of a tongue on your clit as Carlos steadfastly hunts for your sweet spot.

Your mewls are ragged, forced from your lungs with every press of his fingers. Your eyes flutter as pleasure singes your skin, you find the strength to hold them open as you lock gazes with the man between your legs. His eyes are characteristically wide, but they scream his commitment to making you scream.

There’s no fighting. Your head falls back when his fingers graze near that pleasure point and your eyes screw shut when he perfects the angle and massages your sweet spot with his fingertips. 

A shrill shriek leaves your lips as the penetration becomes unrelenting. He constantly presses on the button that has your thighs tightening around his head, but the temptation of taking his final breath between your legs has him doubling down, suckling at your clit forcefully as he prods a third finger inside of you.

Lando chokes, crying out loudly as your hand yanks at his curls, his hips jumping to grind along your hip, his briefs damp from where he’s been leaking. Carlos’s laugh as he watches his boyfriend desperately hump in search of friction, vibrates around your swollen bud, forcing out a squeal nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of your slick squelching around his fingers.

Abruptly, he pulls away. His digits slip from your walls, your entrance left to pucker hungrily around air. Carlos’s stare is loud as he fights the urge to press inside of you again.

The lack of stimulation is maddening. You free your hold on Lando, and he collapses onto you, body pinning yours to the bed—his weight steadying as you restrain your anger at the sudden halt.

You blink deliriously at the sight of Carlos tearing a condom wrapper open with his teeth. The slowing rhythm of your heart speeds up as you revel at the image of his hand rolling the condom down his hardened length, flushed and throbbing with arousal. 

It’s daunting. It’s been a long time since you’ve last had sex. At some point, you decided to prioritize protecting your peace rather than dealing with men who aren’t going to do anything other than ruin your PH and fail to make you cum. It doesn’t help that Carlos is well-endowed; you need to come to terms that you’re going to have a limp after this.

Lando sits upwards to watch his boyfriend drag his length through your folds, moaning in unison with you as Carlos’s tip brushes along your pulsing clit. The Spaniard grunts at the heated slide before resting at the gape of your entrance, but he looks up to you for your go ahead. 

“I-it’s been a while,” you admit tensely, covering your eyes with the back of your hand as anxiety builds in your navel.

“How long is ‘a while?’” Carlos asks, without a single hint of judgment. Lando pulls your hand off your face tenderly, revealing their compassionate expressions.

“You remember how I joked about not kissing you guys until a second date?” You toy with Lando’s fingers distractedly, and they confirm their recollection, “Well—there hasn’t been anybody that’s made it past a second date in a long time.”

“Carlos is gentle,” Lando reassures you, halting your play with his fingers to hold your hand comfortingly, “I promise. And he listens very well, and pays attention, and goes at your pace. If he doesn’t, I’ll beat his ass.”

You giggle at that, your nerves fading as Carlos yelps at the threat. This exact kind of behavior is the kind you can see yourself falling in love with.

“Ay! Yes—Lando has permission to knock some sense into me if I hurt you,” Carlos jokes, pausing momentarily before his tone becomes hopeful, “And, we would really like to be the ones who make it to a third date—I’ll follow your pace, I swear.”

The knot in your stomach tightens for another reason besides arousal.

“I believe you,” you murmur, relaxing back into the bed, raising your’s and Lando’s joined hands to press a kiss to his wrist. Lando hums sweetly at you, laying at your side again, his free hand cradling your waist, thumb brushing calmingly on your rich brown skin. 

Carlos breaches you softly—gently, as Lando said he would. The three fingers he stretched you with was a safe play. If it were only two, you would be feeling a sharp pain instead of an ache. The burn is delicious, your inhale stutters as the head of his cock pops into you.

“Joder,” Carlos curses, his jaw clenched tightly, his grip tight on your thighs, as he inches deeper. His eyes trace your complexion attentively for any sign that it’s too much. “Relax, mi corázon—let me in.”

The sweet endearment encourages you to pant through a tiny whimper. Lando’s hand pets along your navel as he sweeps a kiss across your brow bone.

“‘s big isn’t he?” He murmurs, voice breathy, “Fuck—it’s gonna be worth it when he’s all the way inside you, yeah? Stretching you out just right, touching spots you didn’t know existed. It hurts a little, I know, love. But, it hurts so good, doesn’t it? I don’t know how that fits inside me every time I take it, but it’s worth it.”

You whimper fitfully—you want to watch Carlos make him take it.

The discomfort twisting your brows lightens slightly, and Carlos pulls out before he sinks another inch in. The shallow stroke sends an appealing rush of sharp pleasure skittering up your spine and it pools at the back of your head.

A real moan is forced from your chest, and your eyes open to see Lando tucking a curl behind your ear, smiling knowingly.

“Yeah, that felt good didn’t it, baby?” You can’t solely credit the burst of pleasure behind your eyes to Carlos’s barely there thrusts as he works deeper. The praise and pet names Lando seems keen to utilize should be accounted for as well. The Brit presses down on your navel with an astoundingly large palm.

His lips graze your ear as he whispers, “Don’t you wanna feel him here? All deep inside of you?” He pauses briefly, letting your imagination work before continuing. “I feel him there when he fucks me. Like he’s making room for himself, yeah? Gonna open up for him? For me? Gonna let yourself feel good, sunshine?”

Carlos’s hips meet the backs of your thighs as he bottoms out.

Choked gasps leave you and Carlos. Your skin alight, your pores flaring raw. His calloused hands rub over your hips and thighs, one settling where Lando’s was previously holding at your waist and the other amply squeezing the curve of your ass.

Behind your closed eyes, you see the white flare of heat zinging through every nerve ending, your body overstimulated at receiving pleasure in the highest, unfiltered form. Lando was right—it feels like he made room for himself. The weight of him is searing, your walls fluttering frantically as they adjust.

Your most conscious thought is realizing why orgasms are referred to as “little deaths.” Because, if him fucking into you for the first time is this good? Cumming around him has to feel akin to ascending to heaven.

The younger man turns your head towards him with a gentle nudge of your cheek. His eyes peer into you searchingly. You don’t know what he’s trying to find. You’re more concerned with coaxing him into another kiss.

You raise up with an unsteady arm, toppling forward to press your lips to his, but you miss and land near the corner of his mouth. At your disappointed grown, Lando moves to kiss you chastely, before he looks at Carlos.

The older man’s eyes are silken as they dance between you and his boyfriend. It takes Lando tugging him forward with a hand on his bicep for him to understand that you’re pining for a kiss from him as well.

The Spaniard catches the strangled mewl you make with his lips, the change in angle as he hovers over you amplifying the pressure of him within you tenfold. Delicately, he leads the dance of tongues, using the lip lock to distract you from the barely there roll of his hips.

It works, the nervous tension that had gathered in your core unraveling completely at the sensual rock. The grinds remain tender as he gradually works you up to weightier strokes and a quicker rhythm.

Your lips uncouple when your head lulls backwards, a drawn-out purr rolling underneath your chest. With your knees bending to cradle Carlos’s hips, you cast lidded eyes to the Spaniard, bathing underneath his appreciative gaze and the blissful twist to his brows as he rolls into you.

“Carlitos, fóllame,” you murmur, watching his eyes widen in surprise, “I said it’s been a long time, not that I’m going to break.” [Fuck me.]

Lando grins beside you, quieting his laughter by pressing his face into your hair. The older man flusters, a red flush spreading across his chest, and he reminds you that he’d promised to be gentle.

His dedication to his word is attractive and you’re thankful he followed through. You tell him as such, but not without another teasing jab, “Thank you for being gentle. However, I think continuing to be gentle when I ask for more might decrease your chances at a third date.”

Lando jerks upwards to gape at the two of you, frazzled, “That’s not even funny! Babe—do better!”

The brown-eyed man doesn’t entertain either of you with a verbal response.

A bitten-off shout is punched from your chest as his hips slam into you with vigor, your vision crossing as the older man settles into a hard pace. His cock threatens to slip out of you with every stroke out and your body jolts with every ruthless thrust inside, the maddening force turning your mind syrupy with arousal and lightning-hot pleasure.

Endless praise is voiced by Carlos between every rough grunting pant he releases. Your brain is filled with seductive words; bien chica, so tight, you sound so pretty, you can take it. 

You can only hope he hears your gratitude through your repeated moans. You dig your nails into his muscled back as he grazes your sweet spot every couple of thrusts. The sharp pain only has Carlos’s hips stuttering for a moment. He growls, his grip turns bruising as he fucks into you with abandon. Your lungs burn and your legs shake. You squirm beneath him fruitlessly, attempting to buck away from the overwhelming grind, but you're pinned underneath his body weight. Your escape attempt is noticed by both men.

Lando tuts, pressing you down into the mattress with an arm around your waist to prevent any future attempt of you shifting. “Don’t run from it, sunshine.”

Carlos laughs sardonically, and you squeal as shame crawls along your synapses at the noise. He changes the angle of his thrusts to bully that spongy spot inside of you relentlessly, “It’s not too much, no? I thought you said you didn’t want me to be gentle?”

Your body curls in distress, mouth-parted wide at the excruciating attention paid to your most nirvanic point . You try to squeeze your walls tighter around him, to afflict a hint of the unbearable pleasure he’s wreaked upon you. Your shocked to discover that he’s fucked you open so well that your cunt can’t do much more than take what he gives you.

Your wetness squelches with his motions, a thin layer of sweat accumulates on your skin and steams the air around you. The scent of sex and aftertaste of ice cream permeates your mind as your orgasm peaks. 

It bursts through you, the intensity slamming through you like a train. Your body falls limp as the pleasure overrides your control, the unrestrained screams of their names are piercing as the waves brutally crash over you. 

Carlos slams his lips to yours, your teeth clacking together painfully and you can only pant into his mouth as he messily kisses you through your orgasm and steamrolls into his own with his strongest pounding thrusts.

Spanish curses are hidden by your mouth as he lays into you, like he’s not quite done molding you to his shape. He fucks you both through it, the vigor of his grinds wearing as the spurts of his spend slows within the condom. 

His arms buckle, pushing an umphf from your chest as he falls onto you. The heaviness is grounding and you wrap your arms around him, shuddering through the aftershocks.

Lando shifts needily at your side, but doesn’t speak. He pulls the arm on your waist from underneath his Carlos’s torso and drags a finger along the reddened scores your nails carved into his boyfriend’s back, with a look in your eyes you can’t place. Is it envy? Quietly, you contemplate the ache you feel between your legs. 

“Get naked, cariño,” you rasp, finding a second wind at the younger man doing as you asked, “It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t get a turn, too.”

Carlos nuzzles deeper into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, his lips and eyelashes tickling your cooling skin. He misses the sight of his boyfriend wildly flinging his briefs to an unknown corner of the bedroom.

Sitting on his haunches, the Brit’s reaches to grab his cock. It’s leaking and (concerningly) redder than the skin of his cheeks from the lack of attention paid to it. He yanks his hand back as if slapped, and digs his nails into the meat of his thighs.

Oh, you think, is it too much for him or is he not supposed to touch?

You reach to close your palm around his poor, dripping length, only managing a single, loose stroke when a pained hiss is ripped from Lando’s teeth. His hips jerk back, freeing himself from barely there hold of your hand. The toned muscles of his abdomen jump as his cock flares and a stream of precum dribbles from his swollen tip.

“Fu-uck,” he shakes, “— ‘can’t. Too sensitive, ‘ll cum.”

The green and blue pools of his eyes are wet with moisture, and his chest—dotted with moles and patches of flushed skin—trembles with every inhale. The man laying on your chest shifts to trail his eyes over Lando’s form. The corner of his lips tilts into a smirk as his boyfriend attempts to hide his arousal behind a hand.

“Sol,” Carlos says to you as his eyes remain piercing into the Brit, “You should ride him—if you are able to, of course.” [Sunshine/Sun]

“Uhh…” you stutter, your attention bouncing between the two as you refrain from answering. 

The numbness settling within your cunt can be ignored if it means you get to have the younger man underneath you. Except, it looks like he’s about to cry, and you don’t want to pressure him into agreeing with your answer if he honestly can’t handle it. The teary-eyed man whimpers thinly, splaying himself on his back next to you, looking past you to meet Carlos’s eyes meekly, his voice tiny as he responds, “—won’t last.”

The Spaniard pulls out of you slowly, murmuring apologies and kissing your cheekbone when your brow twinges in discomfort. He helps you straddle the younger man’s hips, careful to support you as your legs haven’t stopped quivering.

His hand drifts between your pelvises, dragging a nail along the underside of Lando’s cock and you can’t deny the buzz of electricity that sings in your gut at the younger man’s wounded cry. The tears spill over his waterline, though he’s squeezed his eyes shut to try to stop them from falling. Carlos tuts at the man patronizingly.

“Too much, Landito?” Carlos pouts at him, “It is fine if you cannot take it. If you don’t want to cum tonight that’s—“

Lando’s eyelids spring open, looking at Carlos desperately as he babbles, “No,no,no,no—‘wanna cum. Please, ‘los.”

The seconds Carlos spends rolling protection over Lando’s cock are filled with choked gasps as the younger man cries, overwhelmed at the lightest touch of fingertips. You lower around his cock smoothly, walls clenching around him greedily, vision tunneling on the soundless bliss of his expression when your ass meets his skin.

You hum at the fullness, your mind settling at how right it feels. The first circle of your hips has Lando’s hands clawing at your hips, adding his own marks on your skin to compliment his boyfriend’s. He wriggles, overwhelmed, but bucks to meet your rolling body regardless.

He’s flushed from head to waist, fresh tears painting tracks of salt down his face before they drip off his jawline to splash on the bed sheets. Your pace remains tantric, and you don’t move more than an inch upwards to avoid testing his limits. The suckling, hot, drag is more than enough for him, if the pulsing of his cock is any telling. Your own sensitivity begins to bite at the base of your spine, your brain exhausted at the feeling of Lando pressing into the rawness that Carlos carved out.

The Spaniard must notice the way the two of you are tiring of chasing euphoria. Lando’s grinds weaken as the precipice of ecstasy is dangled in front of him, hoarse sobs racking through him as he fails to reach it on his own. Carlos splays his hand across Lando’s throat. The Brit’s whimpers pleadingly, and his mouth parts roundly as his boyfriend applies a light pressure to the sides of his neck. 

Lando shakes apart underneath you with uneven thrusts, his helpless gasps echoing through the room as you continue the grind of your hips to coax him through the bliss of release. He bodily restricts your movements when you edge him towards too-much, pulling you off of him with a single hand underneath your thigh. 

Your knees buckle, pitching over to lie face down next to the British man, who mewls sharply as Carlos pulls the soiled condom off. The heat of the Spaniard disappears, the sheets ruffling as he leaves the bed, causing Lando to make a noise of confusion.

“Water, mi amor,” Carlos chuckles, and you’re happy your face is hidden as you can’t contain your expression of envy at the endearment. He maneuvers Lando’s arms to curl around you, “I am getting us water. I will be quick.”

The younger man, as fucked-out as he is, uses a surprising amount of force to pull you into his chest as he buries his nose in your frazzled nest of hair. He uses his other hand to pull your leg around his hip and hums happily when your bodies press together without an ounce of space to spare. He squeezes you tightly, your dejected frown disappearing as you bask in his embrace, uncaring of the layer of sweat pooling on your cooling skin and the stickiness of your thighs.

There’s three cups with straws in Carlos’s hands as he rejoins the two of you on the bed. He sets one on the nightstand and holds the other two while you and Lando untangle your limbs. Once Carlos is satisfied by the slow sips you two take, he slinks into the bathroom and returns with a warm, soaked cloth to wipe the grime from everyone’s bodies. 

He’s careful about the press of the rag, paying attention to every muscle that tenses in sensitivity and tries to do the job as painless as possible. He nods in content once finished, scooping his glass up to rehydrate himself as well.

Lando bites at the metal straw, the gap of his teeth ridiculously cute even as his eyes brighten with mischief, “So…five minutes and we go again?”

“¡Que te jodan!” You cast a look of disbelief at him, “Lando you just cried through an entire orgasm and you want to go again? Already?” [Fuck you!]

The Brit shrugs loftily, slurping through the last bit of water in his cup and toothily smiling as he blinks at you in feigned innocence. His softened length twitches to attention, and you rest your head in your hand, shutting your eyes briefly for strength.

“Oh, what the hell,” you mumble, before clearing your throat, speaking louder, “I need like 15 minutes—or, until I can feel my legs again. Whichever comes first.”

Carlos collects the empty cup from Lando and sets it on the nightstand with his own. “Would you like to watch him fall apart around me while you wait?”

You choke on the sip of water in your mouth, coughing desperately to clear your throat as your eyes water from the burn. The worried look in the Spaniard’s eyes has an amused tinge to it, even as he pats you on the back in aid—you have a feeling he timed his question with your swallow on purpose.

“That’s a stupid question,” you croak, strangled, “Of course, I want to watch.”

You snuffle against a warmed patch of skin annoyed. The heat of sunlight paints your face golden, and you shift to burrow further into the warmth of limbs around you to drowsily slip back into sleep. You find yourself nodding off, but your ears become alert to the sounds of birds calling and chirping outside. 

Your body reacts before your brain as you fly upwards into a seated position. Shit! You have to go to work!

A pained whimper is exhaled as your lower body aches, sore from last night’s activities. The tangle of tanned arms fall limply around your waist at your change in position, the snores of the two men beside you uninterrupted. You carefully pry their arms away, and slip from the bed, digging through the pile of clothes on the floor, grinding your teeth at the numbness of your legs underneath you.

You dress yourself quickly, closing your eyes in thanks for Carlos forcing you into the shower before you passed out. Hopping across the bedroom to tug your skirt up, you stumble into the bathroom to examine the state you're in, pulling your shirt over your head all the while. 

Your curls are a mess, but that can be fixed at work. Lando respected your wishes of keeping his marks below the collar, but you can spot a few of the bruises on your thighs that their fingertips left. 

You curse briefly, unsure if you have a skirt long enough that would hide the mottled skin before remembering that you have a pair of biker shorts that you can slide on underneath that will get the job done. Pressing a thumb into the shape of Carlos’s thumb, you shiver at the glance of pain that sparks up your spine, swallowing tightly as you recall how it was left there.

With a shake of your head to expel the unseemly thoughts, you turn the faucet on to splash water on  your face. You need to call an Uber to get to work. Rushing out of the en-suite, you frantically search for your phone, trying to remain silent to avoid waking up the boys tucked in that ridiculously plush mattress.

“¿Qué estas buscando?” You screech frightfully at the rough timber of Carlos’ voice, spinning around to look at him. [What are you looking for?]

He’s preciously ruffled; his hair sticks up wildly, the comforter draped around his waist as he leans upwards, the planes of his tanned skin sharp in the morning hours, his eyes squinted in your direction under the brightness of the room—the curtains are wide open. 

Did you have sex—illuminated with a single lamp—with the curtains wide open? That’s a problem to fixate over later, you need your phone.

“Have you seen my phone? I can’t find it,” you straighten your shirt, your volume quieting near the end of your sentence as Lando shifts in the bed with a displeased pout that softens when he settles.

“I plugged it in here for you,” Carlos whispers, rolling to take it off the charger, flashing the marks your nails etched into his back. 

He lifts himself out of bed with a rough groan, your mouth drying as you watch him walk to you, clad in a pair of boxers that leave little (it’s not little at all, actually) to the imagination. Carlos’s hand cushions your cheek as he brushes his lips on yours softly, the delicate rhythm washing away your concerns about being late. 

Your lips break apart with a soft pop and he laughs at the discontented sigh you exhale, offering a languid press of lips to your forehead in apology. You reluctantly take the phone from his hand, your eyes bugging out as you realize that you needed to leave five minutes ago to have plenty of time to fix your appearance before you clock in.

“¡Puta madre!” you exclaim, “I’m fucked. I’m going to be so late ‘cause I have to wait for an car.”

“ —Wait for a car?” Carlos’s eyebrows twist in confusion, scratching at his stubble, “Where are you going? You are not staying?”

You throw him a soft look, turning away to figure out where your socks disappeared to, “I’m late for work, Carlitos. I can’t stay—even though I really want to.”

Carlos ah’s in understanding, assisting you in the search for your socks, his voice still croaky with disuse as he talks, “I can drive you? We are only twenty minutes away if you follow the road laws.”

You huff a laugh at his insinuation, tugging your socks on and patting at his arm softly, before gesturing to Lando in the bed, “You don’t have to. I don’t want to inconvenience you, you should be in bed with him. It’s my fault for not having my alarm properly set.”

Carlos shakes his head, rooting through his dresser for a pair of sweatpants that he pulls on, “You are not inconveniencing me. It would be rude if I let you be late to work after last night. I’m not that kind of man. Neither of us are.”

You give in as you watch him pull a plain white tee over his head—he’s too sweet for a fleeting romance. He ambles over to Lando, brushing the unruly curls off his forehead and pressing a kiss to his temple. He tucks the blankets around his boyfriend and a lick of jealousy blooms in your subconscious before you pluck it. 

Carlos grabs his own phone off another charger and stands, speaking to you warmly, “Your shoes and purse are downstairs, yes? There’s some protein bars in the kitchen pantry, grab as many as you want. I should have treated you to a proper breakfast but you do not have the time. I’m going to use the bathroom quickly, if that’s okay?”

You nod, and Carlos quietly shuts the bathroom door behind him. You breathe deeply at the situation you’ve found yourself in, and you scramble to send a quick text to the group chat telling them to cover for you and promising to cover a shift for anybody who does in the future. 

Your phone buzzes almost instantly after with an influx of messages and you click the screen off. They’re probably freaking out at the uncharacteristic vagueness of your whereabouts, but you put off responding to press your own kiss to Lando’s temple before heading downstairs, tenderly stepping to minimize the unsteadiness of your walk.

You appreciate the decor you didn’t get to see last night, the vacation home vibes blatant as you walk through; a modern twist of Spanish style decor. There’s even a fireplace you spot on your way past a sitting room.

You lace up your sneakers, grabbing your purse from the console table in the entryway before searching for the kitchen to grab a protein bar to hold you over until your lunch break. The kitchen is artful, modern in the sense of the new appliances but the colors and details of the tiled walls, clutter, and cabinets gives it a soul. It feels lived in.

You dryly swallow an ibuprofen—you always carry a few in your purse—hoping it will relieve your soreness before work. You open the pantry door, finding an assortment of protein bars and taking your time to read the labels as you hear a door open which means Carlos is heading down. You grab two bars that fit your taste and softly shut the door, unwrapping one to take a bite of now.

“Ah, I knew I would see you again,” Carlos Sr. smiles at you from the kitchen entry, chuckling at the way you jump and nearly drop the bars in your hands, “I will not lie to you, I thought it would be at the golf club and not here.”

Your lips part and seal as you search for a polite answer, but he continues speaking.

“Let me tell you a secret,” he clasps his hands delightfully, “Did my son tell you that he’s been asking me about you every time I am on the course? Papá, did you see her? Papá, when are you going back to Madrid? Aye, they’re smitten over you, mija?”

“¿En serio?” you relax at his mellow tone, enlightened by the new information. [Really?]

“¡Sí!” The older man exclaims, passing by you to start a pot of coffee, “To be honest, I thought you were out of their league last summer,” you laugh, knowing it’s definitely the other way around, “—Honestly!” He insists, turning to face you as the coffee starts to drip.

“I mean, you are in university, getting a further degree,” he shakes his head in respect of your commitment, “Those two just drive in circles for a living! I couldn’t even convince my son to drive rally like I did, ese cabrón.” [That bastard.]

You laugh a little harder at the jab on his own son, muffling it behind a hand, and he continues, “—And, when they told me they did not get your number! Ay! I was so mad at them. I told them to drop everything and go after you, but by the time they made their way up there you were already gone.”

You feel like shit about your outburst on the green. Your expression shutters, and he pats at your shoulder in comfort, “Oh. I-I didn’t know—“

“How could you?” He hums in question, “It is not your fault, if that’s what you are—“

“Mi sol, have you seen my wallet—” Carlos Jr. steps into the kitchen, words cutting off as he balks at the sight of his father, and he shouts, “Papá! ¿Qué hace aquí?” [My sunshine; Dad! What are you doing here?]

“¿Qué estoy haciendo en la casa que compré?” His dad fires back, amused at his son’s stunned question. [What am I doing in the house I bought?]

Carlos blinks at his dad before turning to you, slipping his hand into yours and tugging you out of the kitchen softly, “Let’s go; you’re going to be late, no?”

Sr. chortles as he grabs a mug from the cabinet, “¡Mijo! Hiding a woman from me?! It is okay, Lando will tell me everything. That is why he’s my favorite son!”

Carlos throws his head back with an exasperated groan, but it doesn’t hide the redness of his ears from his father’s teasing.

You stifle your smile, squeezing his hand pacifyingly, “Your wallet is in the bowl at the front. Um, if it’s possible,” you tuck a curl behind your ear shyly, “Do you have another car besides the Ferrari? I love it, but I cannot show up stepping out of that.”

Carlos snorts, shoving his wallet into his pocket and leading you to the garage, “Is a Porsche fine?”

“It’ll work.”

He gets you there in thirteen minutes, slowing the car to a crawl as you direct him to the employee entrance. You grab your purse, awkwardly pausing as you pop the door open. 

You face him with a sheepish grin, “Thank you for the ride. Tell Lando I said good morning.”

Carlos drags his eyes over your form languidly, before he nods imperceptibly, “Do you have enough time to get ready?”

“You’ve made up a few extra minutes for me with your skilled driving on the way here,” Carlos huffs a laugh at that, “So, I should be okay.”

The two of you fall back into silence, unsure of what else to say. You take the leap of faith this time around, it’s the most you can do after learning the way they tried to catch you before you left last summer.

“It wouldn’t be overstepping if I kissed you, right?”

“Ven aquí,” Carlos exhales, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over the console to meet you halfway. [Come here.]

His lips are swollen and textured from your’s and Lando’s combined attention, but the kiss is the sweetest and most tender one you’ve ever experienced. The soft exhale of breath from his nose stokes the butterflies in your stomach, who flutter awake as adoration pumps through your veins. The two of you part, eyes fluttering open to stare softly. He settles back into his seat, looking at your lips longingly, his line of sight broken as you exit the vehicle.

You clear your throat, “Um, I’ll text you guys when I get home later, okay? Adiós, te qu—hasta luego.” [Bye, I l—see you later.]

You shut the door and speed walk into the building before he could say anything about how you nearly exposed how down bad you are already. You hope he doesn’t bring it up, for the sake of your mental stability. The moment you step into the employee locker room, you're accosted by your friends, Isa, Lucas, and Stephanie. 

“Damn,” Lucas snaps, “I was really hoping you’d be late. I need my shift on Tuesday covered.”

You shrug, sliding past the girls to walk to your locker. “Sucks to suck.”

“¡Oye, pequeña!” Isa and Stephanie box you in at your locker as you grab your spare uniform and sport shorts, Isa stresses, “You cannot, walk in here and act like nothing happened! You show up wearing the outfit I picked out for you yesterday? Your hair is a mess! You sent the vaguest text about possibly showing up late? And, you get dropped off in a Porsche!?” [Hey, girly(i guess, idrk how to explain it)!]

Stephanie’s eyes blow wide and you rest your head into the cool metal of your locker door as she bursts, “Girl—did you get laid?!”

“Thank you for that, Steph,” you bite out, turning to look at them with the politest grimace you can muster, “Now, everyone will know exactly what I got up to last night because Lucas—,” you point behind you with a thumb, speaking loudly to drive your words in, “—Is physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut.”

He raises his hands up and backs out of the locker room with a devious smile. 

Turning to Isa, you shake your head, “I do not know why you like him. He’s such a chismosa.” [Gossip.]

She rolls her eyes at you, following you as you make your way into the bathroom, “It’s not a bad thing. He tells me all of the gossip I miss out on–why are there bruises on your thigh—holy fuck! He must have big hands. Which means he has a big—”

“Okay!” You screech, running into a stall and locking the door shut behind you, “I will tell you and the girls every single detail as soon as we finish today!”

She makes a triumphant noise, her steps fading as she exits the restroom, “You better! Or, I’ll force you to listen to me wax poetic about Lucas’s eyes for hours!”

Scoffing, you tug your shirt over your head and yell back, “You already do that anyways!”

The slicked-back ponytail you gelled your hair into, has already sprung flyaways since you didn’t have enough time to set your hair with a wrap before you had to drive out onto the course. You’re almost three hours into your shift, and the sun feels like it’s at its strongest even though you have a few more hours of it burning hotter. Only twenty minutes until lunch, you remind yourself, then you can fix your hair and cool down in the restaurant's walk-in freezer.

You’ve just finished serving a bachelor party, a group of ten men who didn’t give you a hard time. You talked loosely with them, engaging in small talk because connections are everything and you never know who you might run into on the green.

Like Carlos and Lando, case in point.

The groom-to-be actually met his fiancé here. She was a bartender in the clubhouse about seven years ago, and on complete chance she ended up being the one to serve him. He was starry-eyed as he explained to you that he fell in love with her as soon as he saw her. He ordered an unbelievably expensive amount of drinks for him and his boys (the same group of men in the bachelor party), and when she slid the bill over to him, he said, “For this price, you could’ve bought me for the night.”

You called bullshit, and he looked at his friends who backed up his words; they all heard it when he said it. You watched as he took a sip from his beer bottle with a reverent shake of his head, “Now, we’re getting married next week. On August 12th, or 8/12. Which was the price of the tab that night, $812.”

You made a joke about him needing to strengthen his self-esteem if he would consider selling his body for a measly $800, and to attend an A.A. meeting because that’s a ridiculous amount of money to spend on drinks that leave your system quicker than you ingested them. 

The men crowed in laughter at your ribbing of the groom-to-be, but you did seriously congratulate him on his engagement and wished him a long, happy marriage.

And currently, you’ve parked your cart for a few minutes to get over the urge you feel to cry. You're jealous of a woman you’ve never met before because she gets to love a man who’s devoting the rest of his life to her. She gets to marry him, and you’ve agreed to be nothing more than a summer romance to the men you could see yourself falling in love with.

You thank the universe for allowing you to cross paths with the groom-to-be. It reminded you of your place with the Formula One drivers and it’s a temporary one.

Your walkie-talkie crackles with the sound of your name and you sniffle deeply, blinking your eyes quickly to rid the moisture. 

“What’s up?” You chirp cheerily into the voice box, waiting for a response.

“By chance, are you missing your earrings? Over.” It’s Ryan, he takes his radio messages seriously. You tug at your earlobes, and damn, you feel naked.

“I am. Did I leave them in the dressing room?”

“You have to say ‘over’ at the end of your messages, you know that. Over.”

“Ryan...” you hold the line open to annoy him a little bit before you give in, “Did I leave them in the dressing room? O-v-e-r, over.”

“I was going to be nice to you but you lost that chance. Over.” 

You snort, intrigued to hear how he’s going to ‘retaliate.’ The two of you started here at the same time and Ryan has become like a little brother to you, against your will. 

“I just wanted to let you know that two objectively handsome men turned in your earrings to the front desk,” you shout in surprise, firing up the golf cart and slamming the pedal down to head back to the clubhouse, “Hmm…I think they said you left them at their house last night. Overrrrr.” He draws the ‘over’ out teasingly and the walkie-talkie squeals with static and screams of surprise from the other employees on the channel.

“TWO? YOU FREAK!!!” Lucas.

Incoherent screaming. Isa.

“Nobody here can call me a slut anymore!” Rob.

“Is that why you couldn’t sit comfortably at the morning meeting?!” Sofia.

Ryan’s voice crackles through, “Oh! I forgot to mention—don’t worry about stealing food from the restaurant for lunch; they dropped off a meal for you. Over.”

The walkie-talkie explodes with noise and you turn the volume to zero. You’re reporting them all to HR.

You tune out the jeers in the break room as you devour a croquetade jamón and chase it with a spoonful of rice. You send a photo of the food with a thumbs-up in the frame, to Carlos and Lando. You type out your thanks for the jewelry return and lunch. There’s no hesitation as you press send on message inquiring about when the third date is going to happen.

The third date is private cooking lesson where you’re coached through making a few classic Spanish tapas. Lando immersed too deeply and only responded to ‘Chef Lando’ during the class. Carlos ate all of the chorizo he was supposed to use on his flatbread. You terrify the actual chef with your less than savory cutting technique. Your torn apart on their fingers that night, as they take turns coaxing you over the cliff.

You decrease the amount hours you’re able to work at the golf course. You’re only on the schedule during the middle of the week–Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday—leaving you with a four day weekend to frolic around Madrid with your boyfr—with Carlos and Lando.

The fourth date is dinner and a show. It’s your first time watching a ballet, and your lucky enough to be watching the performance at Teatro Real, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe. It’s also the first time you get railed in a women’s bathroom stall at Teatro Real, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe.

Lando pants raggedly as he fucks into you from behind, “Ah—shit, sunshine, you’re so tight.”

Your moan is muffled around Carlos’s cock and he hisses at the vibration, knocking his head against the stall door loudy. 

When Lando climaxes, he whimpers out a, “te quiero.” You pretend to miss it as you concentrate on sucking Carlos to completion. Carlos licks his spend from your tongue, babbling his te quiero’s into your mouth. You don’t say it back. [Te quiero means I love you, but it’s more casual, less serious in nature.]

The fifth date is pottery and you ride Carlos’s face to the image of Lando’s hands coning down his clay on the wheel. The sixth date is driving around the outskirts of Madrd’s city limits and passing the phone around to queue a song to play as you three switch between talking and enjoying the tunes. 

The seventh date is painting the mugs you made; you made two, one for Carlos and one for Lando—they each made you one as well. You’ve painted Carlos’s as a lemon and Lando’s as an orange—and homage to the sip of sunshine line they pulled on you. Lando painted a field of sunflowers for you. Carlos painted a sun with rays spilling from it, the words ‘my sunshine’ scripted into the middle of the sun.

Somewhere between the fifth and seventh date, they became comfortable with saying te quiero  to you outside of sex. 

It’s said as you serve them drinks on the course, as they drop you of at home after dates, as they cuddle with you without wanting more, as they wake you up between them in the morning. 

You give in somewhere beewen the sixth and seventh date. But, you only allow yourself to say te quiero during or after sex.

And, you stifle your sobs of anguish into your pillow at home, dreading the day you return to school and they return to racing.

Your dad enjoys the mobile car show of priceless automobiles that appear in his driveway to pick you up. Your mom eagerly awaits your renditions of your dates every night and you’re careful to edit around the explicit parts. 

The dates progress to you spending your four days off at their  Carlos Sr. 's vacation home, packing a bag with your necessities so you don’t have to risk wasting time away from them by stopping at your house. They take the time to explain to you just how much of a goat Lewis Hamilton is. Lando helps with your wash day, soaking up your tidbits of advice for his own curls. Carlos lets you soundboard ideas for your dissertation off of him without complaining, iterjecting every once in a while with a viewpoint you hadn’t considered. 

Your craving for intimacy is satiated. They twirl you around in the kitchen to Spanish ballads they sing terribly at the top of their lungs. They terrorize you on the green, choosing increasingly difficult cocktails for you to make so you have to spend more time with them instead of doing your job. You and Carlos terrorize Lando with a football games of keep away. You and Lando terrorize Carlos by hiding his shirts from him so he has to walk around topless. They don’t terrorize you in retaliation—if you don’t count their constant te quiero’s as terrorizing acts.They pick you up at some ridiculous hours when you’ve gone clubbing with your friends; making sure you chug a glass of water, helping you rinse off in the shower and moisturizing your skin before dressing you in their clothes, doing your skincare for you before putting you to bed. 

They drag their feet through helping you repack your belongings on the morning of your last day in Spain. You let Lando get away with tugging garments out of your bag every time you turn your back to him, hiding your smile as you see Carlos assist him by stuffing it at the bottom of the pile of clothes that doesn’t seem to shrink.

Eventually, they give up. Their eyes trace your form as you do your last walkaround to make sure you haven’t left anything behind. Your check ends at the front door, grabbing your keys from the bowl on the entryway table.

You sigh heavily, “Well, don’t just stand there.”

They gravitate towards you, hugging you tightly and peppering an endless amount of bittersweet kisses along any patch of skin they can reach. Lando hunches down to hide his face in your neck, and Carlos rests his forehead against yours.

“¡Chicos, calmaté!” Your giggly exclamation sounds watery, “I am coming back next year, remember?”

“That’s too longgg,” Lando complains into your neck, his voice sounding as pitiful as yours. You step backwards to cradle his face between your hands. His cheeks are ruddy and his eyes are dejected even as he smiles shakily under your touch.

“Date us.” Carlos blurts out desperately, “Ay, perdóname—May we date you, please?” [Forgive me.]

You gape at the older man, struggling to ascertain what he’s asked of you. 

Stumbling gracelessly, your hands fall from Lando’s face, who makes a hurt noise at the loss. “Date me? I thought you both said this was just a fling?”

The Brit twists his hands together at your words, his face saddening further as he corrects you, “Summer romance—fling is too harsh.”

“Too casual?” You shout, “I thought this was supposed to be casual! I felt like shit whenever I didn’t say te quiero back! I wanted more the moment we sat down at that restaurant a month ago, but I thought I couldn’t have it because that’s not what we agreed on!”

“You want more?” Carlos clarifies, his tone optimistic. 

“¡Cabrón!”  You laugh, hurtling forward to throw your arms around his neck. Relieved tears spill over your waterline, soaking into the Spaniard’s shirt. “I’m damn near in love with you guys–yes,yes,yes, I want more.”

Lando glows, blubbering incoherently with happiness and you shush him with your lips.

“I wish you had asked me days ago,” you sniffle cutely, smiling crookedly as you continue, “—’cause I really do have to leave, or I won’t have enough time to pack my things into my suitcases at home.”

You groan as you find yourself with an armful of two Formula One drivers bemoaning the unfairness of being separated from you even though they just got you.

“Mis amores, escúchame—you had me the entire time,” you coo, “We all know how phones work. We can communicate speedily with texts, and video calls, and send voice messages, and even regular calls. If we’re doing this we have to have a serious talk about it when I land in the States, yeah? Long distance is difficult, but I’m willing to put in the effort to make it work, if you two do the same.” [My loves, listen to me.]

“Phone sex isn’t the worst thing in the world,” Lando quips, smiling as he watches you and Carlos chortle at the unexpected comment.

The laughter ringing through the air fizzles out. You bite your lip, shaking your head slightly as their stares fixate on your mouth. They haven’t managed to stop ogling at your lips over the course of the month.

“Te quiero,” you state. Lando repeats it back instantly, Carlos kisses you before doing the same.

You pick up your bag from the floor, “Promise me that you’ll do your best to make this relationship work.”

Their confirmations are swift, even taking turns crossing their pinkies with yours and with themselves. Your heart sings with love. They walk you to your car. Carlos takes the bag from your hand and places it in your backseat, Lando holds your door open, making sure you don’t hit your head as you sit in the driver’s seat. 

He shuts the door smoothly, and you roll down the window to exchange your last goodbyes. 

“See you next summer.”

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[its-avalon-08]

Helloo! Can I pls request Carlos x Y/N who is a golf course bev cart girl? I love watching day in the life videos of bev cart girls on tiktok LOL and I think it'd be really interesting since Carlos loves golf! Thankuuu💘

gold clubs and nike shoes (cs55)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - fluff, a little angst, hate, comfort

how they met :

The sun was just beginning to rise over the lush green fairways of the exclusive golf club. Y/N was finishing her morning routine, making sure the beverage cart was stocked with cold drinks, snacks, and anything else the golfers might need. She loved her job, especially the quiet moments in the early morning before the course got busy.

Today felt like any other day, but little did she know, it was going to be a day she'd never forget.

As she drove the cart down the path towards the first hole, she noticed a group of golfers teeing off. Among them, one man caught her eye. He was tall, with dark hair and a confident stance. It took a moment before she recognized him.

"Is that… Carlos Sainz?" she murmured to herself, her heart skipping a beat.

Carlos had a break between races and decided to indulge in one of his favorite pastimes, golf. He was here with a few friends, hoping for a relaxing day on the course.

As Y/N approached the group, she put on her best professional smile. "Good morning, gentlemen! Can I offer you anything to drink or a snack to start your round?"

Carlos turned and his eyes met hers. For a moment, he seemed taken aback, then he smiled warmly. Her smile and wavy hair had him awe-struck. "Good morning! I'll have a water, please."

"Sure thing," she said, handing him a bottle of water. "Anything else for you guys?"

The rest of the group placed their orders, and as she handed out the drinks, Carlos couldn't help but strike up a conversation. "Do you work here every day?"

"Most days," she replied, glancing up at him. "It's a great job, especially on beautiful days like this. You must be Carlos Sainz, right?"

He chuckled. "Guilty as charged. You follow Formula 1?"

"I do, actually. I think it's amazing what you guys do. The speed, the skill… it’s incredible."

Carlos grinned. "Well, thank you. It's always nice to meet a fan. What’s your name?"

"Y/N," she said, smiling back. "Nice to meet you, Carlos."

As the day went on, Y/N found herself crossing paths with Carlos and his friends multiple times. Each time, they exchanged a few words, gradually getting to know each other better. By the time they reached the back nine, Carlos was deliberately timing his stops to coincide with her rounds.

At the fourteenth hole, Carlos finally decided to take a chance. As Y/N handed him another bottle of water, he asked, "So, Y/N, what do you do when you're not brightening up the golf course?"

She laughed. "Well, I’m studying part-time and I love traveling whenever I get the chance. How about you? When you’re not racing, that is."

"Golf, obviously," he said with a wink. "And I love traveling too. Maybe we could share some travel stories over coffee sometime?"

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up. "I’d like that."

The round eventually came to an end, and Carlos knew he had to make his move before it was too late. As Y/N was getting ready to drive back to the clubhouse, he walked over.

"Y/N," he began, a bit more serious now, "I really enjoyed talking to you today. I'd love to see you again, off the course. What do you say we grab that coffee?"

Her smile widened. "I'd love that, Carlos. Here," she said, pulling out a small notepad and pen from the cart, "let me give you my number."

He took the note, his smile growing even bigger. "Perfect. I’ll call you soon."

As he walked back to his friends, Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. What started as a typical day on the golf course turned into something extraordinary. And for Carlos, a simple round of golf had led to meeting someone truly special.

the first i love you :

The evening had been tense. Carlos and Y/N returned to her apartment after a long day on the golf course. Y/N had dealt with an inappropriate customer at work, leaving her shaken and upset. Carlos was furious, but he tried to keep his anger in check.

As they entered the apartment, Carlos slammed the door behind him. Y/N stood near the kitchen counter, trying to compose herself. Carlos paced the room, his frustration evident.

“I can’t believe that guy today,” Carlos said, his voice tight with anger. “What an absolute jerk!”

Y/N sighed, trying to stay calm. “It’s part of the job, Carlos. I deal with stuff like that sometimes. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine!” Carlos exclaimed. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that crap. I hate seeing you go through that.”

Y/N shook her head. “It’s my job, Carlos. I’m fine. It’s not the end of the world.”

Carlos stopped pacing and turned to face her, his expression serious. “You know what? You don’t have to keep working there. I have more than enough to support us. I want you to quit that job and focus on what makes you happy.”

Y/N was taken aback. “I appreciate that, but I like working. I want to be independent. It’s important to me.”

Carlos’s frustration reached its peak. “Y/N, this isn’t just about the job. I care about you more than anything. I love you, and it’s killing me to see you hurt. I need you to understand that!”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. The words hung in the air between them, raw and unfiltered. She was speechless for a moment, her heart racing as she processed his confession.

“Carlos…” she managed to say.

Carlos moved closer, his voice softening but still filled with intensity. “I love you, Y/N. I don’t want you to face that kind of disrespect. You deserve so much more than that. And if it means you don’t work there anymore, then so be it. I just want you safe and happy.”

Y/N felt a wave of emotions crashing over her. She stepped towards him, her voice trembling with emotion. “Carlos, I… I don’t know what to say. I didn’t expect this. I love you too.”

Without another word, Y/N reached up and kissed him, her lips pressing against his with a mix of passion and relief. Carlos responded, pulling her into a tight embrace. The kiss was full of unspoken feelings and raw sincerity.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N looked into his eyes, her gaze steady but firm. “I want to be independent. I want to work and make my own way. It’s important to me, even if it means dealing with tough situations. But I want you to know that I love you too, and your support means everything.”

Carlos’s shoulders relaxed a little, and he took a deep breath. “I understand. I just want you to be safe and happy. And I’ll always be here to support you, no matter what.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes glistening with tears of gratitude and love. “Thank you, Carlos. I know we can get through anything together.”

They held each other close, both finding comfort in their mutual declarations of love. The argument and the pain were overshadowed by the deep connection they shared, making their bond even stronger.

In the midst of their emotional turmoil, Carlos and Y/N’s love was reaffirmed, showing that true understanding and support could overcome any challenge.

standing up to hate :

Carlos had been scrolling through his phone, his mood darkening as he saw the comments and posts about his relationship with Y/N. It had been a few months since they’d started dating, and while they’d shared many happy moments, not everyone was supportive. The negativity was starting to weigh on Y/N, even though she kept a brave face.

Carlos was in the paddock at the latest race, talking with some of the other drivers. He glanced over at Y/N, who was chatting with a few friends. She seemed a bit off today, and Carlos could tell that the recent online backlash was affecting her. He had to do something. He was not going to let deranged fans make the woman he loved unhappy.

carlossainz55 just posted!

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

carlossainz55 Hey everyone, I usually keep my personal life private, but today I need to address something important. Recently, there have been some comments and messages about my relationship with Y/N. I want to make it clear that Y/N is an incredible person and she means the world to me. I’m so grateful to have her in my life, and the negative comments really hurt her and myself. She is an incredible person inside and out and if you think otherwise you do not know her well enough. You are NOT A FAN if you continue to hate on my loved ones. The hateful comments from the ones who hide behind the screen are cowardly and hurtful. I’m sharing this because I want to stand up for her and show my love and support towards the woman I have the honor of calling mine. We’ve been through a lot together, and I am proud to call myself her boyfriend. Thank you to those who have supported us, and to those who haven’t, I hope you can understand that love is something we should celebrate, not criticize. and grow up or get off the internet. I love mi amor💛

view all comments

yourusername i love you my love! i can't believe you just did this

carlossains55 anything for you amor

LandoNorris Carlos, you’re a legend for this. 💪🏽 Love you both!

DanielRicciardo: Absolutely right, mate. Y/N’s awesome, and anyone who says otherwise doesn’t know what they’re talking about. Cheers to both of you!

OscarPiastri: Carlos, you’re a class act. Sending love to you and Y/N. 🌟

CharlesLeclerc: Proud of you for standing up for Y/N. She’s lucky to have you, and so are you to have her. ❤️

MaxVerstappen33: Proud of you carlitos! Y/N we love you <3

[mydaddywiki]

Arnold Palmer

Physique: Average Build Height: 5'10" (1.77 m)

Arnold Daniel Palmer (September 10, 1929 – September 25, 2016; aged 87) was an American professional golfer who is widely regarded as one of the greatest and most charismatic players in the sport's history. Since embarking on a professional career in 1955, he won numerous events on both the PGA Tour and the circuit now known as PGA Tour Champions. Nicknamed "The King", Palmer was one of golf's most popular stars and seen as a trailblazer, the first superstar of the sport's television age, which began in the 1950s.

Handsome and charming. It was Palmer, not Tiger Woods who made golf popular to me. Palmer would stride down a fairway acknowledging his army of fans with a sunny smile and a raised club. And according to Donald Trump, Arnie was was well endowed. I'm betting Jack Nicklaus, and Gary Player, other members of the "The Big Three" in golf were also packing 9 irons… at least. Three men that I wouldn’t mind playing around with their clubs and balls.

Born in Latrobe, Pennsylvania, Palmer attended Wake Forest College on a golf scholarship. After quitting school in 1950, he served in the U.S. Coast Guard. He returned to Wake Forest in 1954 but left again after winning the U.S. Amateur Championship. He earned his first professional victory at the 1955 Canadian Open. In 1958 he won his first Masters Tournament and placed first on the official earnings list for the PGA Tour. Two years later he emerged as a sports superstar, winning eight tournaments, often in dramatic fashion.

In a career spanning more than six decades, Palmer won 62 PGA Tour titles from 1955 to 1973. He is fifth on the Tour's all-time victory list, trailing only Sam Snead, Tiger Woods, Jack Nicklaus, and Ben Hogan. He won seven major titles in a six-plus-year domination from the 1958 Masters to the 1964 Masters. He also won the PGA Tour Lifetime Achievement Award in 1998, and in 1974 was one of the 13 original inductees into the World Golf Hall of Fame.

Palmer died on September 25, 2016 (shortly after his 87th birthday) in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Palmer was twice married, first to Winnie Walzer in 1954. They remained together for decades until her death in 1999. He remarried in 2005, to Kathleen Gawthrop, who survives him. He is also survived by his two daughters from his first marriage, Amy and Peggy. In addition to golf, Palmer was an avid pilot. He flew for over 50 years; in 1999, the airport in his hometown was named Arnold Palmer Regional Airport in his honor.

Professional Wins: 95 Masters Tournament Won: 1958, 1960, 1962, 1964 PGA Championship T2: 1964, 1968, 1970 U.S. Open Won: 1960 The Open Championship Won: 1961, 1962

Achievements and Awards World Golf Hall of Fame 1974 (member page) PGA Tour money list winner: 1958, 1960, 1962, 1963 PGA Player of the Year: 1960, 1962 Sports Illustrated Sportsman of the Year: 1960 Vardon Trophy: 1961, 1962, 1964, 1967 Bob Jones Award: 1971 Old Tom Morris Award: 1983 PGA Tour Lifetime Achievement Award: 1998 Payne Stewart Award: 2000

[drunk-on-dk]

[Teaser] Over the Country Club | Yoon Jeonghan (M)

pairing: best friend!Jeonghan x afab!reader genre/tags: fluff, angst, smut (minors do not interact), friends to lovers, a bit of unrequited love, a slice of life au, college au, post-grad au rating: 18+ (minors do NOT interact) w/c: ~3k TEASER (estimated ~15-20k for full fic, currently this may be my longest fic yet and it feels so good to really be writing again) warnings: mentions of alcohol (underage is not condoned), future smut

Summary: Jeonghan and you have known each other for as long as you can both remember. From the years spent working at the country club, to your university days, there has always been this aching feeling that neither of you can quite understand. Someone falls first, but the other falls harder.

A/N: Please let me know your thoughts on this teaser! I've been working hard to get back into writing in the new year and wanted to get comfortable with diving more into the plot. Things may change when the full fic is posted, but not much of what's in the teaser! I hope you enjoy it, and of course please message me if you'd like to be on the tag list for this fic!

I. 4th of July, the Summer Before the First Year of University

Just like every other high school student in your town, Jeonghan and you found part-time jobs at the oh-so-prestigious country club located in the next town over. One could argue it was practically a full-time job since most part-timers worked upwards of 40 hours a week due to how busy the club got during the summers. 

Not that you would complain about the hours; to be fair, you had to save up a substantial amount of money for the upcoming transition to college. The realization hit soon after graduating high school, you only had enough pocket change to fund some expenses,  which was not nearly enough to get you comfortably through the upcoming semesters. You had worked at the club most summers, but this year you took all the hours they offered. 

Plus, you’d be crazy to admit that summers working at the Lakewood Country Club weren’t some sort of fun. Plenty of your peers worked there, including Jeonghan, your longest lasting friendship due to the proximity of living next door to one another and growing up attached at the hip. 

Jeonghan worked as a caddie on the golf course. He’s gentlemanly in appearance, has just enough knowledge about what type of club to use at each hole, and has a never-ending spunk that entertains whatever group of golfers he’s assisting for the day. Jeonghan made decent tips working as a caddie, earning a couple of hundred dollars from some of his return golfers who specifically requested his assistance for an 18-hole outing. One could assume that most members of the country club were very well-off, or at least living comfortably. 

Luckily, you were stationed at the halfway house most days this summer. It’s located in the heart of the golf course, and the club consistently blasted cool air conditioning in the exposed, open bar area that was meant for golfers to stop by. Jeonghan, as scheming as ever, would ensure that his golfers stopped by for a quick refreshment at some point, knowing that he’d get to spend some time with you and help you earn some extra cash in tips from his already rowdy crew. 

You’d mix up some Manhattans or Old-Fashioned’s for the golfers, knowing the usual orders for each club member as if they had been engrained on the back of your hand (in hindsight, a freshly graduated high schooler should not have been pouring alcoholic beverages, but the country club didn’t care - your labor was cheaper than hiring a professional tender and you learned just the basics just fine). Nonetheless, your cocktails were a treat for the golfers who had been drinking beers for most of the course, most of them lukewarm or gone by the time they made it to the halfway house. 

Today is the Fourth of July, marking the mid-way point of your last summer before college. You had made your fair share of tips this summer working at the halfway house, especially due to Jeonghan’s consistent sourcing of clientele at your bar. It was a particularly hot day, one of the hottest of the summer and plenty of customers had stopped by, leaving hefty tips, feeling generous either from the heat or the holiday. 

Jeonghan approached the bar area with a heavy sigh, parking his cart hastily, but still had his typical mischievous smile etched onto his features as a crowd of familiar golfers followed behind him. Your nose scrunched in feigned disgust, a teasing smile mirroring his upon noticing just how tired and sweaty the group was from the relentless summer heat. 

Part of you thought he looked angelic from the way his sun-kissed skin gleamed, but you’d never admit that, nor would you dare to speak those thoughts out loud, not even to your closest friends who weren’t Jeonghan. However, the other part of you remembered he was just your silly best friend who smelled slightly like fresh-cut grass, sunscreen, and a hint of whatever remained of his tropical cologne. 

“The usuals?” You beamed, flashing your best customer service smile at the group, already reaching for the bottle of top-shelf whiskey displayed behind you. You received hoots and hollers along the lines of “Yes, please” from the group. Jeonghan slips behind the bar as you expertly begin to prepare drinks for the parched golfers. Normally, this was frowned upon, but Jeonghan had most of the country club supervisors wrapped around his finger. 

Jeonghan’s quick to sort through the fridge right off to your side, squatting and contemplating his options, but you have to smack his hand away from the cooler once you notice his deft fingers are reaching for a plastic shooter of whiskey.

“Y/N,” Jeonghan practically cries out, whining similar to a little boy being scolded, but he’s just your immature best friend who has a knack for trouble and stealing. You can’t always let him get away with everything. 

“You kleptomaniac, don’t you dare,” you joke, routinely preparing the drinks, laughing at the puppy dog eyes that are flashed in your direction and then back to the cold fridge. You bend down next to him, whispering quietly so that no one but Jeonghan can hear. “Wait until later, today’s manager has been keeping inventory of the alcohol as if they personally own it all. I can sneak some after my shift when I cash out.” 

Jeonghan’s pout morphs into a smirk, a devious glint in his eyes as he holds out his pinky finger. You comply, wrapping your pinky with his to silently promise that you’ll follow through later. 

“Meet at hole 12? Right at the hill behind the trees? It’s still the best spot for fireworks.” Jeonghan speaks as if it’s a secret mission - as if it’s not the same spot you’ve met to watch fireworks for the last few years working at the country club. 

“Oh, I thought we’d check out the views at hole 17 this year,” you roll your eyes mockingly, Jeonghan knows you’re messing with him, but it’s your smile that betrays your teasing, “Duh, Jeonghan. I’ll catch you there later.” 

“You know hole 17 is where Mingyu and Arin lost their virginity to each other last year,” Jeonghan pokes, settling on bottled water from the fridge and standing back up, towering over your own figure. You feel your cheeks flush, a bit flustered he’d drop that information so casually, and sure as hell hoping he didn’t think that you were suggesting anything. 

You didn’t see Jeonghan in that way, he didn’t see you in that way. Plain and simple. You two were only best friends and that’s how it would always be. 

“That’s gross, Jeonghan,” you scowl, willing away the blush that is still burning your face as you finish garnishing the drinks. “Don’t air out people’s secrets like that. That’s personal. Plus, why would I know that?” 

Jeonghan chuckles, shrugging as he helps you carry the drinks over to the golfers who have made themselves comfortable among the shaded seating outside the bar area, an outdoor fan helping cool them down. They all clamor in delight as Jeonghan and you emerge from behind the bar with the chilled drinks, quick to "cheers" each other before savoring the first sip of their beverages. 

There are smacks and sighs of delight from the group, your pride growing as they approve of the drinks, and gather up some cash for a tip. Jeonghan nudges you, urging you to accept the bills from Mr. Choi, a polite older man who continues to take care of Jeonghan and you each summer. He’s never been creepy, and he tips very well. You still feel slightly guilty each time you accept cash from him. 

“Thank you, Mr. Choi,” you speak graciously, accepting the tip, quickly shoving it into your pocket without checking the amount, and earning an approving thumbs up from the man as he takes another sip of his cocktail. 

“Save it wisely, Y/N,” Mr. Choi chimes, humming in thought, and eyes flickering between where you and Jeonghan stand. “Jeonghan tells me you’re both attending the same university in a few months. Heard you’ve both received a pretty good scholarship, even one from the club?” 

“That is correct, sir,” you nod excitedly. Not only had you both received an academic scholarship from your university, but all your years working at the club have paid off in a way you wouldn’t have imagined, earning a scholarship from the Lakewood Country Club members' foundation. “I am grateful to have received such an award. Don’t worry, I’ll make good use of it. I know Jeonghan will too. You’d never guess, but he’s a straight A student,” you tease, hiding your mouth only for Mr. Choi to see as if Jeonghan can’t hear you, and elbowing your friend in the rib cage, earning a pained groan from him. 

Mr. Choi nods in approval, a smile creeping onto his face as he chuckles at the dynamic between you two. “Glad to know my money is going towards two bright futures.” Jeonghan is pushing your bony elbow away, annoyed at your enthusiasm and teasing, further amusing Mr. Choi. “Jeonghan, make sure you don’t lose sight of Y/N during University, all sorts of partners will be chasing her. She’s intelligent and beautiful. Don’t want her forgetting about you now, do you?”

Jeonghan would groan if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Mr. Choi speaking to him. He has to restrain himself from shoving you away as well, knowing that Mr. Choi has inflated your ego a bit too much with his praise. Nonetheless, Jeonghan plays into it. “Nope, she’s stuck with me, so don’t even worry about it.”

You almost laugh out loud, reminding yourself to remain professional on the course as you fire back. “As if, Jeonghan couldn’t get rid of me even if he wanted to.” 

“Valid point,” Jeonghan grumbles, teasingly pushing you back towards the bar as if reminding you of your duties, sick of hearing the constant praise that only you’re receiving, even though there have been no additional visitors since Jeonghan’s entourage of golfers arrived. He’s quick to enthusiastically round up the crew, realizing daylight will quickly dwindle by the last hole if they don’t start back up soon. “Welp, we better let Y/N continue to work. Ready for hole 10?” 

The men are quick to gather, knocking back the remainder of their drinks, and returning to their carts as Jeonghan helps you clean up the finished glasses, your shoulders bumping into each other as you two push your way back into the bar. Mr. Choi sends a knowing look Jeonghan’s way, neither of you catching it as he wishes you a nice Fourth of July. 

“Thank you, Mr. Choi!” You wave to the man, bidding the rest of the golfing crew a nice holiday as well before turning to Jeonghan who’s finished carrying over the rest of the empty glasses. “Catch you later, Hannie?”

“Of course,” Jeonghan’s eyes lit up yet again upon hearing his childhood nickname, and is reminded of the nearing shenanigans later this afternoon. Maybe he’ll steal some snacks from the members gifting table for tonight. “I’ll see you then stay cool, Y/N!”

“You as well! Make sure to reapply your sunscreen,” you shout back, watching as Jeonghan hops in the cart with Mr. Choi and rolls his eyes at your nagging. Mr. Choi gets one final laugh before Jeonghan drives off, the entourage of golfers following closely behind. 

You’re finishing cleaning up the bar, pulling the cash from your pocket earlier and gasping upon realizing just how much Mr. Choi had tipped you. A five-hundred dollar tip. It was surely the most you’ve ever made in one round of drinks, absolutely unwarranted, and it made you feel a bit teary-eyed. You knew you couldn’t dare to return it, as Mr. Choi would definitely be offended, but you felt extremely lucky to have such nice members visit you at the halfway house, you’d have to thank him eventually. 

The rest of the day went quickly, and, much to your delight, you had made enough tips to support a chunk of your tuition and expenses for the year. Also, your manager had swapped shifts with another supervisor mid-day, who was not as hawklike. 

Leading up to the completion of your shift, you had snuck a pair of alcoholic shooters into your uniform skirt. Even in your attempt to be rebellious, you couldn’t just steal the shooters, using some of your tip money to cover the cost of the alcohol and you felt less criminal. You knew Jeonghan would tease you relentlessly about this if he was here, each shooter was no more than $3 each, but you had a knack for doing the “right thing,” or else you feared karma would get you in the long run. 

Upon reaching the end of your shift, you stopped back at the employee locker room to safely store your tips in your purse. The day had been hot, but it was cooling down now that night was approaching. 

Ultimately, you opt to throw on a sweatshirt, one that Jeonghan had purchased when you two had toured your university, which was the same one that he’d worn so many times that it’s the most comfortable piece of clothing you own. One that he couldn’t deny you of when you begged to keep it, secretly thinking that you looked cute in it even though you were practically swimming in the fabric. Disgusted that he’d even thought that, he dismissed you quickly and said you could keep it. 

The sun was setting minute by minute, meaning that Jeonghan’s shift would be finishing very soon, and you packed away the remainder of your items in your employee locker, double-checking that your skirt still had the tiny plastic alcohol bottles hidden away. 

After confirming you had said shots, you headed out to hole 12 with a spring in your step. It was a meeting spot you and Jeonghan had found your summer after freshman year of high school. There was a hill behind a bunch of trees that overlooked the valley where the main portion of the country club was located. No one was allowed on the course during after-hours, but this spot was so dark and secluded that you two hadn’t been caught yet. It was also the prime viewing spot for the club’s fireworks show, and it was your little secret. 

You were first to make it to the spot, plopping down on the hill and huffing in relief. Your legs ached a little from standing all day. The grass beneath you was dewy from the cool nighttime air, the humid heat from the day settling on the greenery, and it was almost enough to make you feel itchy. However, you don’t mind it, not when you have the fireworks show to look forward to. You would never mind the damp grass, especially not when you had a favorite summer tradition to share with your favorite person, your best friend. 

Jeonghan’s shift ended a bit later than yours, but he didn’t arrive at the spot much later than you. He meant to grab a bag of popcorn or something, but he didn’t want to leave you hanging for too long. 

Jeonghan tried to sneak up on you, but you’re too smart, too knowing of his antics. So when you turn around knowingly, with two opened Whiskey shooters in hand, he chuckles almost maniacally at your annoyed expression that doesn’t fully translate into your impish eyes. You two were one and the same. 

“What are you waiting for, Hannie? These shots aren’t getting any colder. Not when they’ve been in my skirt for the past hour.”

“Eugh, now you’re the one oversharing,” Jeonghan groans in disapproval, sitting down next to you on the grass, and gratefully accepting the shot regardless of your TMI comment. Your knees knock each other as you turn to face him, but a friendly touch isn’t foreign to either of you. “You’re the gross one, Y/N.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you giggle, holding the shot out in front of him and teasingly shaking the plastic bottle. You sing song, “The night’s not getting any younger either.”  

Nodding in acknowledgment, Jeonghan smirks and shares a few words, “Cheers to our last summer before we’re miserable college students. Cheers to fewer hours spent in the heat at this country club. Cheers to our everlasting friendship.” 

With his final words, you’re both knocking back your shots, groaning in unison as the spicy drink burns and settles in your stomach, instantly warming your body at the sensation. Your face scrunches up at the taste and Jeonghan can’t help but laugh uncontrollably.

“Stop it,” you whine, your voice a bit hoarse from the alcohol but smiling nonetheless. “You aren’t any better than me. Anyways, that's enough for me tonight.”

“True,” Jeonghan contemplates, but he’s quick to poke you. “But I didn’t struggle as bad as you did.” 

“Touché,” you hum, nudging Jeonghan’s shoulder excitedly as a warning firework darts into the sky, indicating the show will be beginning shortly. “It’s starting!” 

“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan is groaning at your bony elbow yet again digging into him, but he’s delighted by your excitement regardless, shoving you back as you begin to readjust for the show. “Calm down, it’s nothing crazy.” 

“No, Jeonghan,” you grin, turning your head to fully make eye contact with his wide eyes, joy flickering in your own as you peer at your best friend. “It’s nothing crazy, but it’s absolutely so special because once again we get to enjoy it here together.” 

Your emphasis on the word together almost makes him shiver, a foreign feeling rushing through him as you continue to gaze at him with those wild eyes of yours, gulping as he hesitantly nods, even though he wholeheartedly agrees it is special, but he’s not exactly sure why. “Very true,” and as if on cue, the fireworks show begins, relief flooding through him as you redirect your gaze and squeal in excitement. 

Jeonghan doesn’t understand why, but his heart pounds in his chest throughout the entire show. He thinks maybe it’s the alcohol (you and he rarely have dared to sneak alcohol before), maybe it’s the overstimulation of the fireworks, maybe it’s the thrill of knowing the golf course guards could spot you any year and escort you away, or maybe it’s the way your knee keeps brushing his thigh reminding him of just how close you two are. How much you are together here alone, just like every other summer. 

It’s a feeling he decides to ignore for the rest of the fireworks, letting himself lay back on the damp grass with you and listening as you enthusiastically point out your favorite fireworks, bickering with you when he thinks a different type of firework is prettier. 

It’s a feeling he continues to ignore as the finale comes and goes, chest fluttering at the way your eyes sparkle with golden reflections of the fireworks in the sky, and once again quickly redirecting his gaze to anything but you. 

It’s a feeling he tries his damnedest to ignore as you both continue to lay in the grass post-fireworks. Neither one of you making the first move to go home. Maybe you thought this would be the final moment of normalcy between you and Jeonghan before starting university, knowing that all friendships are bound to change with such a new chapter. Maybe he thought he’d figure out whatever it was he was feeling if he just stayed here with you a moment longer. 

It’s a feeling he struggles to ignore as you both fall into deep conversation. The one shot of alcohol makes you both loose-lipped as you reminisce on embarrassing high school stories. Reminiscing on your shitty boyfriend who broke up with you before the summer. Reminiscing on your years of friendship. 

It’s a feeling he no longer can ignore when you roll over, lips pouting and eyes teary as you start to feel emotional about your recent breakup. Something in him feels like it shatters when you ask, “Have you ever been in love before, Hannie?” 

[formulakatya]

MET YOU AT THE RIGHT TIME | MICK SCHUMACHER

"living in a movie i've watched and funny, cause you couldn't have called it, met you at the right time, this is what it feels like"

not my gif :)

part 1

summary: where your best friend is sick of you thinking your not deserving of love and so she introduces you to a certain someone

pairing: mick schumacher x professional golfer!reader

notes: hi! sorry for the long wait but part 2 of ‘this is what it feels like’ is finally out, thank you for your patience 😭🤍

warnings: a universe where mick is in ferrari and ferrari aren’t idiots

—

“amazing drive, mick!” you smiled, congratulating the german, “congrats on that win!”

“thank you, (y/n),” mick smiled shyly as both of you exited the paddock and walked down the streets of monaco, the sun setting as nighttime came. “so, uhm…how’s golf going? lily says you’re amazing at it.”

chuckling, you shook your head, “i hope she didn’t oversell me to you.” smiling as mick let out a laugh, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh of your own. “well, i just won my first major— the chevron championship— uhm, and i also managed to win the cognizant founders cup after that…before that i won the honda lpga tournament in thailand.”

“your kidding!” mick exclaimed, looking at you.

“oh no, did she oversell me? because if she did—“

“no, no! absolutely not,” mick smiled. “she talks about you a lot and before i met you i already had a good impression of you based off the things she said…and then i met you and you’re really just as much of an angel as she says you are,” he chuckled.

“really?”

“yeah,” he nodded, “and for the record, she never told me you were winning tournaments left and right…when’s your next one?”

“the lotte championship in hawaii,” you replied, “and why are we only talking about me? come on, lily says you have a dog!”

“she told you about angie?” he smiled as he scrolled through his camera roll quickly to find a picture, “she’s an australian shepherd.”

“stop, she’s so cute,” you shook your head, “i wish i had a dog…”

“i’ll let you meet angie one day.”

“please, that’ll be a dream come true.” laughing, you averted your gaze to the sunset as the both of you neared the restaurant.

mick smiled, admiring you for a split second. “am i allowed to say you’re pretty or is that too soon?”

—

you let out a deep breath as you took your driver from your caddy. spectators were crowded as they watched your group since you were the favourite to win. and you weren’t going to let the pressure get to you, absolutely not.

“approaching the tee, (y/n) (l/n)”

looking out into the fairway, you went through your pre shot routine before addressing the ball. drawing your club back, it wasn’t soon until the piercing sound of your metal club against the ball was heard as you looked where the ball went— twirling your club as you did so.

well done, good shot.

the other 2 players making their way to the fairway as soon as you picked up your tee and walked to your caddy, you gave a smile as you followed your fellow players to the fairway. whispering words of encouragement under your breath, you kept yourself calm as you found your ball in no time.

holding back a laugh upon seeing the small formula one car drawing stamped onto your ball, you looked at your caddy who gave you a thumbs up in encouragement before giving a glance into the crowd.

and you could’ve swore you saw someone you knew there.

gripping your club, you let a deep breath out as you repeated the same routine as before. swinging the golf club, the satisfying sound could be heard once again. squinting your eyes as your gaze watched the direction, you crossed your fingers together as it landed onto the green.

“not bad,” you chuckled, shrugging as you passed your club back to your caddy. “also is it just me or are my friends in the crowd?”

“it’s possible,” he shrugged, laughing as you two approached the green, your eyes glancing around the crowds before returning your focus back to the green as you did a quick analysis.

from where you were it would be a left to right, fast downhill putt. if you were able to find the right line and speed, you’d birdie the hole. and despite not knowing what your score was at the time, it was clear that it would be a putt that would decide your fate as a winner or the first of losers. marking your ball, you took another deep breath before stepping away, watching as your competitor run through her routine before making her putt.

the air grew tense as you wiped the sweat off your head, patiently waiting for your turn.

time seemed to slow down as you set up, your eyes focused on the ball as you concentrated on your putt. the soft sound of the metal hitting the ball could be heard as you watched the small golf ball roll down the green.

“go, go, go,” you mumbled under your breath, watching nervously as the ball slowed down as it approached the hole. “YES!”

smiling as you gave a hug to your caddy, thanking him for his congratulations as you quickly searched the bustling crowd with your, shaking hands with your competitors before you went on the search— confident that you’d find someone you knew in the crowd.

“(y/n)!” the familiar voice of lily could be heard as she squeezed her way to the front of the crowd, “that was amazing! oh my gosh! congratulations!”

“thank you so much, lily,” you smiled as you hugged her before pulling away only to see alex and a familiar blonde stood behind. “mick?”

“hi,” he smiled, giving a shy chuckle as he waved his hand. “lily said you’d be playing so i decided to come. congrats!”

“thanks, mick,” you smiled, a light blush forming on your cheeks as he pulled you into a tight hug, “it means a lot.”

“do you wanna go out to celebrate? dinner’s on me.”

“but you payed last time!” you exclaimed, “let me pay!”

“then take it as a date,” he shrugged. “and let me pay, my love.”

—

“i’m still mad you didn’t let me pay.”

“well…” he chuckled, “that prize money isn’t spending itself and i much rather spend it on a girl like you.”

“and no one else?” you asked playfully, resting your head on your palm as you looked outside the window.

“only a fool wouldn’t choose you,” he paused, “and based off my results in school, i count myself a genius.”

[misshoneyimhome]

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.

[aettuddae]

hole in one — chapter 23.

⌕ synopsis: at one of the most prestigious universities in the country, where everyone is battling to be the center of attention, yu jimin is just a regular. people want her because of her beauty, but all she cares about is sharing her freaky stuff with her friends and passing her subjects. although there's one thing that might push her out of her comfort zone, revenge. when nakamura kazuha, one of the richest and most well-known students of NCU, starts to spread gossip about her for thousands of followers to see, jimin decides to get back by taking away the thing kazuha cares about the most: her perfect girlfriend, the young golf star, kwon haru.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

"hey." muttered haru after seeing karina.

the girl was panting, making it obvious that she had run to that place. the new girl understood right away, she had already realized it she arrived later than she was supposed to.

"sorry i'm late." she added, interrupting the tension building between the two.

"hey." returned the other's greeting, sketching a shy smile.

up until that moment karina had felt confident, calm, but it all dissipated as soon as the golfer stood in front of her.

she had crossed paths with haru a few times, although she could count them with her fingers. after all, they go to the same university, and there are events that all the students attend. besides that, kwon sometimes showed up at the building where jimin studied to visit her friend giselle. but they never interacted before, let alone with the subplot of an entire plan organized to seduce her. somehow, the athlete's idea and the plan seemed so far away and fictional that she didn't feel a great weight because of them.

until kwon haru became a reality, until she was there personified in front of her, and karina felt the pressure of having to think carefully every interaction they had.

"are you..." she gave a deep sigh before continuing the sentence. "...the girl my girlfriend has been fighting with?" a short, chaste laugh escaped her as she finished, perhaps because of nerves or the ridiculousness she was asking.

"i think that's an accurate description of me." jimin nodded her head, pressing her lips against each other as a gesture of embarrassment. "although it's not so much a fight, it's more just her..."

"yeah, i know." she lowered her gaze, and walked a bit until she found a place where to leave her equipment. "sorry about that, by the way." she picked up a club and turned to karina again. "it's just that she thinks what happened at the party was on purpose, which doesn't justify her reaction, sure, but it's all only because she felt attacked. i swear she's not mean, just..." she stopped her walk next to the girl, taking a breath of air and looking towards the field, thinking what to say next. "hi, i'm haru, it's a pleasure." she looked at her and extended her hand waiting for a shake, not finishing the previous topic.

"yes, i know you're haru. it's a pleasure too." she reciprocated the greeting, finding funny the abrupt change of subject.

"your name is karina, am i correct?" the golfer furrowed her eyebrows as a gesture of curiosity.

"that's me." confirmed, pointing her index finger at herself. "but my name is jimin, actually." she explained.

"okay, jimin-ssi." she gave a smile without showing her teeth, but that was still genuine enough to make her eyes narrow.

it was the first time karina had talked to kwon haru, and although she had the image that the girl's personality wasn't at all like her girlfriend's, in those minutes she had confirmed it. she was kind. something well hidden among her priorities and bad intentions, told the newcomer that this girl didn't deserve to have any harm done to her, but at the same time, she also was relieved at the thought that maybe it wouldn't be such a challenge to flirt with haru.

this is against kazuha, anyway.

"minhyuk spoke to me yesterday, told me he helped some friends get into the club, and that they lied on their applications about knowing how to play golf." the fresh member lowered her head in embarrassment, to which the experienced laughed. "he told me i had to do him the favor of helping him train them, am i right?"

"you are, ma'am." karina brought her hand to her forehead, jokingly giving a military salute, then flashed a cheeky, flirtatious expression to her new acquaintance.

she was there to make her fall in love, after all.

haru looked away restlessly, and swayed from one foot to the other as she scanned the surroundings with her eyes as if there was anything besides grass and holes in the ground.

"everyone lies on applications anyway, don't they?" joked karina as she saw her teacher start to move to fetch some golf balls and arrange everything.

"not in rottary, no." she denied as she was bent over setting up a tee.

"oh." she expressed flustered.

"but it's okay, jimin-ssi." she straightened up and addressed her. "someone had to be the first to do it." tried to reassure her.

karina and haru sat down on the tee box, and the sportswoman took some time to explain the rules of the game, the most common terms and what each item used in the sport was called and what it was for, and also to answer any questions the new girl may have.

the latter listened attentively to every part so as not to detract from practice later. and even though she still found it rather boring, she got a strange thrill from the idea of being good at golf.

"so why did you join the club if you've never played golf before?" questioned the teacher once she finished explaining the system of play.

karina thought carefully about her answer, she couldn't say anything stupid. during the previous days she had been researching things about golf, so she looked through that information to answer the question.

"isn't it easier to play golf when you are a member of a club? you have somewhere to train, an easy way to participate in tournaments, direct access to teachers and coaches." she repeated everything she remembered from that specific google search she had done, 'why is it good to join a golf club?'

"yes, you're right."

"i don't get out of my house much." the girl confessed. "i wanted to do a sport and have a more active life." vile lie. "and everyone at ncu does golf, so it caught my attention." more lies.

"it's a great sport, you won't regret it." assured the one who had been at it for years. "is that why you followed me?"

"what?"

"on instagram."

jimin opened her mouth and expanded her eyes in surprise at the question. she had forgotten she did that, maybe she had voluntarily wiped it from her brain. her cheeks turned red right away.

"of course..." she spoke nervously. "i mean, you're the best at golf, right?" she reached out her arm and gently tapped her closed fist on the girl's arm.

and again, haru began to look around avoiding eye contact, while her cheeks also took on a reddish color.

"okay, now," the trainer stood up and extended her hand to the other girl to help her up. "let's see how bad your swing is."

they approached the tee that the athlete had set up earlier and now she put a ball on top. she looked through her student's unused clubs, picked one up and then passed it to her. she took it with one hand, to which haru moved close enough to her to position it correctly between her hands.

"you're going to put your dominant hand where the grip and the shaft connect." she pointed to the area she was referring to. "you're way up." warned laughing at the inexperienced girl's cluelessness.

haru took karina's hand, gently moving it to the correct position. the apprentice looked up from the object to the face of her teacher, who, at the proximity, this time could not avoid the connection of glances. the blackhaired drew a warm smile on her lips and moved her pupils from the girl's eyes to her lips.

she still hadn't forgotten about the plan.

at this interaction, haru took a breath and turned around on her feet abruptly as she rambled anxiously about the proper way to hold a golf club. when she turned back to face jimin, who was quite stunned at the suddenness with which that moment was cut off, her gaze drifted back and she frowned.

"don't turn around." she warned seriously.

the girl quickly grimaced cheerfully and began waving towards whatever was behind her.

"it's kazuha." she explained through her teeth while she followed her partner with her gaze, who was traveling in a golf cart through the club. "if you turn around we're both going to die." she dramatized without stopping waving.

(!)

— taglist [OPEN]: @runawaymazola

[weemsfreak]

Full Circle -Par 3

Part 1

Larissa Weems x fReaderOC

Summary: After Prudence's fathers death, she struggles to get back to her sport, golf. Larissa finally has time to indulge in her long forgotten sport as well, meeting some friends and culprits along the way. Both women hope to find joy on the course, but will they find something unexpected as well? ~6.9k words.

✂ Song that goes well with the fic: Dear Prudence by Siouxsie & The Banshees (linked at bottom)

Note: Hi everyone! So, many people seemed to like the idea of Larissa being part of a country club. I chose golf because I'm more familiar with it than tennis or anything else. There were so many ways I wanted this to go, so I hope that I met your expectations! This is pt 1 of probably 2. (If anyone else wants to be tagged in pt 2, let me know)

Warnings: A bit of misogyny, harassment, alcohol

@dopenightmaretyphoon @danverssawyer @dingdongthetail

Also, you're welcome for blessing your eyes with this image. I wanted to create digital art of her, but I haven't had time, so this is partially AI generated.

☼☼☼

Larissa's life had always been busy, excessively busy. For years, she had been caught up in the rollercoaster of a journey to becoming a teacher at Nevermore Academy, and eventually the Headmistress. She has had little to no time for herself, even during the summer months. However, about five years ago, a weight had been lifted. Well, it felt lighter, as she now had time. Time to return to a passion that she had long neglected and missed dearly. 'You're not getting any younger', she reminded herself. 'Get back out there'.

With that, she found herself at a golf club just outside of Jericho, purchasing a new set of clubs.

After playing alone for most of the season and getting back into the grove of things, she crossed paths with a trio of seasoned golfers: Tom, Glen, and Richard. They had noticed her playing by herself a few times, and one day asked if she would like to join their group.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing playing alone?" Richard asked, winking at Larissa. The headmistress scoffed at the label, 'pretty little thing'. "I'm just getting back into the swing of things" she replied, trying to brush off his comment. "Come play with us, we've never had the pleasure of playing with a young lady before" Richard replied, wiggling his eyebrows. Tom chimed in, "Yeah, we could teach you a thing or two."

Larissa reluctantly agreed to join the men, and found that their persistent staring during her address wasn't doing her any favors, as her shots were less than ideal. About halfway through the game, Larissa regained some confidence, and started putting more power into her shots. "Pretty good, for a woman" Richard commented with a sly smile. Larissa rolled her eyes at him.

Despite Richards teasing and rude comments, the older men had recognized the potential in the younger woman. They knew that she had strength hidden behind that 'slender frame of hers', as they called it. Hell, she already had the precision.

"I'll make you a deal" Richard smugly said, smirking up at the woman. She straightened her posture and nodded down at him, "Alright." Richard observed Larissa's clubs, noting that they were top of the line. Perhaps money wouldn't motivate this woman. "You got a very nice set of clubs there, it's clear that you have potential. If you beat me on this hole, I'll give you $100." Larissa raised her eyebrows, a bet? She wasn't motivated by the money much, but beating this elderly man and showing them up, well, that was intriguing. "Deal" she said confidently.

As it was, Larissa put her all into everything that she did. Her drive sent the ball soaring with remarkable distance and precision. When it came time to putt, she had hope that she could beat Richard, for she prided herself on her putting skills, which for a lot of people was not a forte. Larissa and Tom managed to finish with a birdie, and Richard and Glen on par. "Well I'll be" Tom marveled. Richard let his eyes rake over Larissa's tall form, a smile pulling at his lips. "She has talent and beauty gentlemen, she's a keeper." Larissa couldn’t' help but shake her head at him as she let out a giggle. "Here you are" Richard said, handing Larissa a crisp hundred dollar bill. "Don't spend it all in one place."

Larissa continued to play with the three men for years, earning their respect and forgoing genuine friendships. She learned a lot from them, not only about golf, but also about life. When a golf season ended, she looked forward to the next. But, as fate would have it, after three seasons Richard didn't show up for golf. Tom and Glen solemnly informed Larissa that he had passed away. She silently thanked him for what he did for her, for he had turned her into a better golfer.

☼☼☼

You have been playing golf since you were a child. Over the years you have learned all the ins and outs of the game from your father, who had been a professional golfer himself at one point. His passion, and yours, for the sport was unmatched. Together you dedicated countless hours to perfecting your swing, honing your putting, and mastering every aspect of the game.

After your fathers passing, you found it very hard to muster the energy or motivation to play, especially without him by your side. Yes, you were grieving, your father and the game. It felt like when you lost him, that part of your life was lost too. Golf, for you, was lost in translation, out of the question, and thrown into the abyss.

And that was how you felt, for the longest time. That was, until your most recent life changing decision. You quickly fell in love with the mountains, greenery, and breath of fresh air that was Jericho, Vermont. You had never ventured far from your hometown, but now, you figured it was time.

Your father had gifted you a set of clubs once you had stopped growing. They were the latest models at the time, and they suited you perfectly. The only club in your bag that was not so new, was your driver. When you were younger and your father had stopped playing professionally, he had gifted you his pride and joy, his driver. After years of wear and tear, though, it was becoming a bit shabby.

You pulled up to the golf course just outside of Jericho, 'West Bolton Golf Club'. You had been here a couple of times recently, your first time back out was harder for you than you had anticipated. Yet, after not playing for a long while, you were still as good as ever. A tad rusty, you will admit, but you thought your father would be proud. You stood your clubs next to a table outside the clubhouse and opted for a sandwich before teeing off. You hummed quietly as you ate, soaking in the sun and the warmth it brought you. It was a beautiful day for golfing, gorgeous in comparison to the other days that you were here.

As you sat and ate, excited to get out on the course, you heard some men laughing at a nearby table. Old men jokes, you thought, never really funny. You turned your attention to them as you watched an older man reach his hand out and playfully swat at a woman's arm. They were all laughing, seeming like they were genuinely enjoying each others company, it made you smile. When you were finished with your sandwich, you walked to the trash and discarded your wrapper, then made your way back to your table. You had caught the eye of one of the older men, as he watched you sit back down and rearrange your clubs. You were glancing at the woman at the table, trying your best to be somewhat stealthy. She was an image, she looked like she was straight out of an old movie. She was definitely a member here, there was no doubt about that. Her whole demeanour screamed wealthy, though it was odd. Usually it would be no surprise to see an older woman at a golf club dressed to the nines, but this woman looked considerably younger than these elderly men. The color of her hair was making you think otherwise, but you'd swear it to be blonde, not white. "Hi there" one of the old men smiled, waving at you and pulling you away from your staring. You smiled and looked around, was he talking to you? He was looking at you. "Hi" you waved back, blushing in embarrassment.

Your attempt to be stealthy was not successful, it seemed. He definitely saw you gazing at the woman, what if she was his wife? The man smiled and made a 'come here' gesture with his hand, to which you stood and made your way to their table. "I haven't seen you here before, you new?" You looked around the table and found six eyes focused on you, two of which were distractingly beautiful. You swallowed, "Yes, I just moved here." The man nodded and responded warmly, "Well, welcome to West Bolton, sit, sit." You returned a quiet thanks before settling in the only empty chair, next to the woman. "I'm Glen, this is Tom" Glen gestured to the man beside him, then turned to the woman, "and this is Larissa." Tom nodded your way, and Larissa extended her hand with an enchanting red-lipped smile. The woman's appearance was nothing short of stunning. She exuded an air of wealth and sophistication, from her golf attire to her jewelry, from her meticulously styled hair to her bold yet elegant makeup. The way she laughed, the way she drank her wine, not to mention her confident demeanor, screamed at you. It was clear now that she was considerably younger than the older men, her porcelain-like complexion fixing you in a trance.

"Nice to meet you, darling" she greeted. You stammered as you shook her hand. You knew that you should give them your name in return, but your breath caught in your throat when the woman's smooth British accent hit your ears. "Y-you too, I'm Prudence." The woman continued to hold your gaze, and you then realized how close you were sitting to her. From this proximity, you could see that her skin was smooth and pale. You couldn't help but feel that you'd hurt her if you touched it. You didn't mean it in the way that she looked old and fragile though, heavens no, but in the way that artists would portray angels- bright, creamy, delicate, exquisite.

"So Prudence, do you play often?" Tom asked, breaking the silence. You shook your head, "Not much anymore, but I used to." Tom gestured to your clubs, "Those are nice clubs you got there." You smiled and nodded in agreement, "Thank you. My father gave them to me, he taught me how to play." "Who's your father? Would we know him?" Glen asked in curiosity. "Paul Clair" you replied proudly. Tom's eyebrows raised, "Paul Clair? From Tennessee?" You confirmed with a nod, "That's him." The old men paused and exchanged glances. "He was excellent at his sport, our condolences" Glen replied. After another moment of silence, Larissa turned to you. "We're going to tee off in a minute, would you like to join us, Prudence?" You considered her invitation, you were intrigued by this woman. But, you were working on your technique, and you didn't want to hold them up.

After politely declining, you allowed the group to get ahead of you before making your way to the first hole. You placed your tee into the ground and set up as you let the fresh air of the fairway fill your lungs, relief flooding your veins. You had always found solace in the manicured fairways and lush greens, which you desperately needed recently, especially today. After teeing off and sending the ball soaring through the sky, you smiled to yourself, "Pru, you still got it".

You took your time to correct your silly mistakes and scold yourself for things about which you knew better, until half way through, when you caught up with the group in front of you. Glen, Tom, and Larissa were at the next hole, joined now by two younger men. You scrunched your face up in confusion, there were only four allowed in a group.

Tom spoke to the newcomers, who looked eager to impress. "Newbies, eh? You wanna learn a few things?" The younger guys exchanged glances before nodding at the old man, "Yeah, sure." Tom demonstrated, setting up the ball and taking his shot, sending it straight down the fairway, out of sight. "Alright, your turn" Tom motioned to one of the boys. You observed the younger men, noticing that they carried themselves rather tall, chests puffed out and chins high. One of them walked up to the tee box and set his ball up, gripping his club and getting into position. The other boy was seemingly fixated on Larissa, and you realized that she was who they were eager to impress. You watched as the ball was sent flying with great strength, but it was a slice, and it landed in the trees. The next newbie took a turn, but didn't make contact with the ball on his first swing. He cursed before trying again and making contact, but not sending the ball far, at all. "Alright, alright" Tom intervened, giving the boys a few tips. After a few minutes, Tom walked back over to Glen and elbowed him playfully. You watched as Larissa chuckled and shook her head, as if she knew what was coming. "Alright boys, I'll make you both a deal." The boys smiled and replied with okays. Tom pointed to Larissa. "If one of you drive the ball further and with more precision than Larissa here, I'll give you each $50." The boys both turned their attention to Larissa, before giving her a one over and a smile. "You boys better buy the woman a drink with your winnings" Glen joked, the boys agreed happily.

You moved closer, eager to see how this bet would play out. Larissa turned to you as you walked up behind her. She smiled, "Shall I give them a run for his money?" You chuckled and nodded your head, "Give it all you've got."

The boys tried again, determined to impress. You had to give it to them, they did better than the first time. "Not bad boys, not bad" Tom praised. "You're up, Rissa." Larissa approached the tee box with a graceful sway of her hips, and placed the tee in the ground. As she set up, you couldn't help but roll your eyes. The boys wandering gazes were venturing lower, they weren't even trying to hide it. Larissa took an elegant practice swing before aligning her club up with the ball. You watched her, captivated by her movements. She was so proper and graceful with everything that she did, every move that she made. She swung and drove the ball, sending it straight down the fairway with grace. "I think that went further than mine" Tom laughed. The boys let out frustrated groans and chuckled in embarrassment. "Well boys, the lady beat you. Don't dwell on it too much, I'll buy you both a drink when were finished." You watched as they all packed their clubs and hopped into their golf carts. Larissa headed to the cart and returned her driver, but before she left, she turned her attention to you and gave you a wink, leaving you in awe.

☼☼☼

1

After a particularly taxing day at work, you sought comfort from the golf course. You decided to sit at a table and order a drink before you started. It was relatively calm tonight, as the beautiful day had turned chilly far too soon. However, the day turned beautiful once more when you caught a glimpse of light blonde hair in a passing group of people. To your surprise, and utter delight, Larissa was sitting at a table, alone. You wasted no time in gathering your belongings and walking over to her. "Hi!" you greeted, gazing down at the older woman. Larissa's face lit up with a smile when she met your eyes, "Hi darling, have a seat."

You settled into the chair beside her and took note of her choice of drink, red wine. You watched as long elegant fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass and manicured hands brought it to her lips. "You blew the boys out of the water the other day, quite impressive" you giggled. Larissa swallowed and chuckled, "Oh, you flatter me so."

You looked around at her empty table, "Where's Glen and Tom?" Larissa waved her hand dismissively, "Sometimes they're too much. I'm flying solo today." You nodded in agreement, "So, how do you know them?"

The woman smiled, reminiscing about the day she met her older friends. "Well, when I first started here, they made a bet with me, much like yesterday. Richard, may he rest in peace, said that if I bet him, he'd give me a hundred dollars." Larissa chuckled, shaking her head, "I got the hundred, and they invited me to play with them. At first they flirted with me and made stupid jokes, but I fired back, and they soon learned that I wasn't going to take any shit." 

You laughed at Larissa's story, "Wow, that's amazing!" The woman nodded, "I still have the hundred, it's on my wall." Your eyes widened in shock, you would've spent that money so fast. "So neither of them are your boyfriend, or husband?" you blurted. Immediately regretting your question, you slapped a hand over your mouth. You don't know what prompted you to ask that, you just wanted to clarify, for some reason. Larissa burst into laughter, throwing her head back as her hand flew to her chest. "No! No love, I'm not with either of them" she replied reassuringly. You let out a breath of relief, "Oh! Okay." Larissa suddenly narrowed her eyes at you. "Did you really think I was that old?" Heat crept up your cheeks, and you felt the need to explain yourself. "Oh, no! I knew you were younger. Well you look younger, but that doesn't mean anything" you smiled, embarrassed. The woman nodded her head in understanding and looked down at her wine glass. "How old do you think I am?" she asked. You froze, you hated that question. Um, 30? 50? You were horrible at this guessing game. "Umm, 40?" you replied sheepishly, it really was your best guess. She smiled, "Close, I'm 49." Your jaw dropped, she didn't look anywhere near that age, not that 49 was old. "How old do you think I am?" you asked. Larissa furrowed her brow as she studied you carefully. You just sat there, feeling like you were being penetrated by her gaze. "Late twenties" she finally said. You shrugged and smiled, "Yeah, good guess."

After Larissa's red was gone, she asked you to accompany her on the course, to which you happily agreed. This woman was a beast at the game, being on par almost every hole (and sometimes under), and never slicing the ball into the trees, water, or bunker. She was a joy to golf with, sharing tips and tricks whenever you needed them. You thought that she would be an excellent teacher. It was apparent that she loved to help and pass on her knowledge.

You watched from behind as Larissa putted, noting the small details of her form. Her putting form, that was. Well, maybe her physical form too. She wore a baby blue colored golf skirt that showed off her long legs and accentuated her wide hips. Her white colored polo shirt fit her perfectly. Her clothes were always pristine with no wrinkles, you could learn a lot from her. Her shoes were white, of all colors, stained with nothing, no grass, no dirt. As your gaze raked over her form from head to toe, you berated yourself internally, for you were no better than any man.

As the sun set and darkness fell, making it impossible to see, you both decided to call it a night. "You did amazingly today, darling" Larissa complimented. Blushing, you packed up your clubs and took them out of the golf cart. "Thank you Larissa, as did you." Larissa's gaze shifted down to your clubs, and she noticed a charm hanging off of your bag. She took the photo delicately in her fingers, "What's this?" It held a photo of your father, which you had placed in a clear case and attached to your bag. It made you feel like he was with you whenever you golfed. "That's my father. I didn't golf for a long time after he passed, so this makes me feel like he's still golfing with me." Larissa looked at you sincerely before running her hand down your arm soothingly. "Well, I'm so glad that you decided to get back to your sport, Prudence. He would be so proud." Larissa smiled down at you before holding her hand out to you. "Can I have your phone for a moment?" You reached into your pocket and handed her your phone, unsure of her intentions. She quickly entered her number into your contacts and handed it back. She had called herself 'Larissa (from golf)' which made you chuckle. "There's my number, incase you ever want someone to golf with, or just to talk to." You smiled up at the lovely woman, reveling in the warmth that her bright blue eyes radiated. "Thank you, Larissa."

☼☼☼

You found yourself driving to a liquor store in Jericho one evening. You had been non stop thinking about wine recently, but you were unsure as to why, you weren't usually a wine drinker. You were searching the store for a brand or variety that may appeal to you, when you set your eyes on red. You had in mind white, or perhaps rose, but something about red was very, very tempting. You picked up the bottle and read the description, you knew it would be strong and dry. You scrunched your face up in question, why was this so appealing to you? Suddenly, you remembered where you got the craving for red, Larissa.

You heard the door bell ding, indicating that someone was entering the store. Speak of the angel and she shall appear, or rather think of her. Her eyes scanned the store as she subconsciously made her way to your isle. She stood next to you and grabbed a bottle of red, the same bottle that you were holding. She didn't notice you standing there at first, and you used that time to take her in. She was wearing a sage green sleeveless dress, and a scarf tied around her head. She adorned nude colored kitten heels, and when you realized how tall she really was, you gasped lightly. Larissa swiveled her head around quickly to find you peering up at her. "Oh, hello love" she spoke, surprised but delighted to see you. You quickly smiled and averted her gaze, hoping she didn't notice your staring, "Hi Larissa." The woman took the bottle in her hands and held it next to yours. "We have the same taste, do we?" she chuckled lightly. You blushed and spoke hesitantly, "I actually never tried red before." Larissa turned to you with a grin, looking you up and down. "Well, I recommend it. It is my favorite, after all." You nodded, if this was Larissa's favorite, you'd at least try it. "So, I take it you live in Jericho?" You replied with a yes. "As do I" she smiled. After you purchased your wine, you walked out of the shop together. "Would you like to golf together again, Prudence? Perhaps Saturday?" You smiled wide and nodded your head excitedly, "I'd love to, I'll see you then."

☼☼☼

2

Saturday rolled around and you were eager to get on the course. You had played a couple of times by yourself recently, and your body ached from the exercise. Being out of practice was defiantly taking it's toll on you.

You played with the older woman, and delightfully you two became closer. You  learned that Larissa was the headmistress of Nevermore Academy, which you were not surprised about at all. When she had told you what type of school Nevermore was, you were a bit nervous, due to being unfamiliar. As you and her talked though, you became increasingly intrigued by Larissa's stories. You learned that her name was Larissa Weems, and you decided that you loved how her name rolled off of your tongue.

"Do you mind?" Larissa asked with a grin, handing you a bottle of sunscreen. She turned around so that her back was facing you, and pointed to the parts of her shoulders and neck that weren't covered by her tan sleeveless polo. "I can't reach very well, but I'm afraid I burn fairly easily."

You poured some sunscreen out into your hand, gently smoothing it over her skin. The warmth of her pale skin, and the contact in general, quickly brought a blush to your face. You tried your best to not miss any spots as you focused on not feeling, or looking, too flustered. Once you applied the sunscreen, you ran your hands lightly down her forearms. On purpose? By accident? You didn't know. Larissa turned around and took the sunscreen from you with a side smile and a flutter of her lashes, "Your turn."

As you spent more time with the headmistress, you quickly found yourself becoming enamored with the tall woman. She was a remarkable golfer, and you both bonded over your similar taste in clubs and similar techniques. She was easy to talk to, she was very sweet, and she was incredibly kind hearted. She had a playful, youthful spirit that was apparent with her constant jokes and antics. She was always ready to bring a smile to your face. Yet, she possessed a mature and responsible side, and when the situation called for it, she could assert herself firmly. You admired this quality of hers, especially since you tended to avoid confrontations. Larissa was the guidance that you needed in life, yet the friend that would support you. You prayed that your connection with the woman would continue to deepen, as you cherished your moments with her.

☼☼☼

"It's a beautiful day for it" Glen remarked, pulling his driver from his bag.

"Sure is" Tom replied. The older men watched Larissa as she prepared to tee off, carefully placing her tee in the ground and taking a practice swing to gauge her aim, factoring in the breeze.

"So Larissa, we haven't-"

"Tom, can't you see that I'm golfing here?" Larissa interrupted, standing and turning to her friend while narrowing her eyes at him. Tom held up his hands in surrender, "Sorry."

After Larissa took her shot, she turned back to him. "I was going to say that we haven't seen you in a bit. Have you grown tired of us old bags?" he joked, elbowing Glen.

Larissa chuckled and shook her head. "No, of course not. I've just been busy."

Tom and Glen teed off, moving to find their place on the fairway. "Busy huh, with what? You're off for the summer, you can't be doing work" Glen exclaimed.

Larissa rolled her eyes, they loved to get her going sometimes. She glanced down at her ball on the fairway, balancing her hand on her club. "I've just been doing my own thing."

Glen and Tom glanced at each other, giving knowing looks. "You've been playing with that young girl, haven't you?" Glen huffed in false annoyance.

The elder men knew that Larissa was interested in women, and they were always supportive. That's why they found it amusing to watch the young men flirt with her, for they didn't stand a chance. Yet, Larissa has been single for a long while, the old men were aware of that too. She didn't want them making jokes about you and her when you were purely just friends. Hell, she didn't even know if you liked women, let alone her. She scrunched her face up at the older men, hoping to appear convincing in her lie. "No I have not, why would you say that?"

Tom chuckled, "I saw your name in the books."

 Larissa stared at them, expressionless, before sighing and nodding her head. "Okay, we have played together a few times."

The old men laughed before moving on to their putting. "Nothing wrong with that" Glen spoke.

"Is she good?" Tom chimed in.

Larissa smiled, thinking back to the times that you two had played together. "Very good, almost as good as I am" she replied, sinking the ball and beating both men by a stroke.

"Shit" Tom murmured.

"Well, bring her out next time, Rissa. We'd love to see her play," Glen suggested.

Larissa gave them a knowing look, "You'd love to annoy her, you mean."

Tom chuckled and placed his hand on Larissa's upper back. "Yes, that too."

☼☼☼

3

Although you were confident in your golfing abilities most of the time, you had always been nervous about golfing with others. You feared that you might hold them back, or appear too cocky, or god forbid have a particularly bad day. Alas, when Larissa texted you and asked if you wanted to play with her and the older men, you had decided that was 'the way of the game', as your father used to say.

You loaded your clubs into a golf cart and sat next to Larissa. Her outfit of the day caught your attention, as it always did. She looked stunning in her red sleeveless dress, which matched her red lips and contrasted nicely against her porcelain skin. She smiled down at you when she saw you eyeing her outfit. She reached out and stroked your arm, making a rush of warmth spread over you as your gaze shot up to meet hers. "How are you today, darling?"

You felt your heart flutter at her question, her eyes brightly boring into your own. She never failed to make you feel cared for and important. "I'm good Larissa, how are you?"

Larissa turned the cart on and shifted into drive, smiling wide.

"Much better now that I'm here with you."

As Larissa drove to the first hole, you dug out a cold alcoholic beverage. You knew it wasn't allowed on the course, as they wanted you to buy drinks from the shop. Sucks for them, you only had so much money, and the prices at the club were steep. "What have you got there?" Larissa asked, peering down at the can in your hands. "Vodka soda, want one?" You dug through your bag, pulling out another. Larissa shrugged and scrunched up her nose playfully, "Sure, why not."

As the day progressed, you found that you were playing rather well. Glen and Tom occasionally made remarks, one about you being so young, and something about Larissa and women. You didn't know what they were getting at exactly, so you ignored them. Larissa and the men shot comments back and forth as you sat in the background in hysterics. The old men really seemed innocent, and you now understood why Larissa liked them so much. By the 9th hole, you had become relaxed and comfortable with their bickering. It was all in good fun, after all.

"Aww, ducks!" you exclaimed, pointing to ducks in a pond while you were passing by in the golf cart. Larissa turned to catch what you were pointing at and stopped to let you enjoy the moment. However, she stopped so abruptly that Tom and Glen almost rear ended your cart. "Rissa, get going!" Tom yelled. Larissa ignored him and turned to you, "Do you want to go see the ducks darling?"

You excitedly nodded your head and exited the cart, walking over to the pond. You observed the ducks happily as they dived for food and quacked, swimming about the small pond. You remembered how your father would point all the animals out to you while golfing, the ducks in the pond, the rabbits in the woods, and the cows that lived next to the golf course, the one back home. You were always scared that if you didn't send the ball straight, it would curve and hit one of the cows.

"C'mon, they're just ducks" Glen chuckled.

"Leave her alone, what are you in a hurry for" Larissa replied, sitting in the cart patiently watching you. She smiled as she marveled over you. She thought that your interest and love for the simple things was adorable, and she would never want to take any joy away from you. She found that, even though you had only played together a few times, you reminded her to slow down and take her time with things, to appreciate them more. In Larissa's busy everyday life, she had forgotten how to do that. She admired the way you thought about things twice, so that you would do them right, but at the same time, you weren't too caught up in the competition, in the hustle and bustle. You went at your own pace and did your own thing, and that was how it should be.

You walked back to the cart and got in, smiling ear to ear. You were grateful for her support, and you appreciated her sticking up for you. "Thanks, Larissa" you said, blushing slightly at her. "Of course love" she replied, reaching for your hand and stroking her thumb over your skin.

You were teeing off at the next hole when Glen noted your worn out driver. "You got a lot of use out of that" he said, pointing to the scuffed up and dented head. You picked it up and brushed it off, "Yea, I guess I could use a new one." "You'd do better with a new one, that one is probably throwing you off" Tom noted. You nodded and chuckled, "I'll get a new one, eventually." Larissa took note of your attitude, it was like something was bothering you. "They have nice ones at the shop darling, we can go look at them" she chimed in. You shrugged, "Maybe another day, I'll have to save up" you embarrassingly admitted.

You sat in the golf cart enjoying a snack as Larissa conversed with the older men. Your jaw almost dropped when your gaze landed on her, the sun cascading around her form and accentuating her red accents. The sky was unusually colorful today, with pink, orange, and yellow hues blended together smoothly. Larissa's smile glowed even more than on a normal day, and her eyes crinkled with joy. She was truly a breathtaking image. An image. You gasped excitedly when you recalled packing your polaroid camera, and you quickly pulled it out of your bag. You looked through the camera lens and focused it on her, your hands shaking as you tried to keep it steady. As you were about to snap the photo, Larissa turned and started walking toward your cart. You pulled away from the camera nervously, hoping to snap a photo without her seeing. You said screw it as you lined the camera lens up with her, ceasing an opportunity that was too good to pass up. She smiled to herself and her gaze met the sky as she made her way to you. You snapped the shot. Candid photos were always beautiful, as they captured the essence of a person. You laid your camera carefully back in your bag, listening to the whirring of the printing photo. Larissa sat next to you, still smiling wide as she gestured to the sky. "Isn't it beautiful, darling?" You looked up at the array of colors, before lowering your gaze to your bag. You chuckled to yourself, debating on letting your thoughts run with the breeze and carry themselves to her ears, 'It's not as beautiful as you.' Alas, you refrained and your gaze met hers warmly. "It really is Larissa, it's so beautiful."

After the 16th hole, you loaded your clubs into the cart and settled in the passenger seat again. You had a few drinks while on the course, which may have affected your performance, but not too much. You were caught off guard as Larissa stepped on the gas, giggling, as she thought it would be hilarious to leave Tom and Glen in the dust. You squealed as you fell gently into the woman, and quickly grabbed the handle to pull yourself away. She raced down the dirt path to the next hole, and you watched as the sunscreen fall out of the cart and onto the ground. "Shit Rissa, the sunscreen!" you hollered. The older woman slammed on the breaks, the cart drifting in the dirt and gravel. You jumped out and retrieved the sunscreen, laughing hysterically. "Geeze, you gotta be somewhere?!" you said, eliciting a cackle from Larissa as she drove down the path. When you stopped, she leaned closer to you and took your hand in hers again. Her plump lips curled up into a cute smile as brown eyes met blue, and you blushed. "You're very fun to be around, Prudence. Thank you for coming out today" she whispered. Your blush deepened as you looked down at your intertwined hands and squeezed hers reassuringly, "It's my pleasure. You're a delight, Larissa."

Glen ended up winning this round, with Larissa in second and you in third. Tom, being the loser, offered to buy the drinks. As you all sat, worn out from the day, a man appeared at your table, "What can I get you all?" He looked younger than Larissa, yet older than you. You noticed that he was paying an unusual amount of interest towards the woman. He talked enthusiastically, and you watched him as he took the old men's orders of beer, your order of a rum and coke, and Larissa's order of red wine. He took Larissa's order last, looking her up and down with a smirk. He then opened his mouth, to your dismay. "I saw you playing today Larissa, not your best day huh? Maybe it's because you're not wearing your blue skirt. That one shows you off nicely" he winked. Before you, or anyone else could say anything, the man walked away. Larissa let out a groan in annoyance and placed her head in her hands. "What the hell is his problem!?" you asked, frustrated and confused. Larissa sighed and turned to you, about to respond, when Glen spoke up. "He's a cocky young thing. He works and plays here. When Larissa first started playing, he challenged her."

"He challenged her, and Rissa beat him! Now he's sour about it" Tom added, rolling his eyes. Larissa leaned in closer to the men and whispered in disgust, "He never leaves me alone. I always see him eyeing me, little pervert."

"He'll get what's coming to him" Tom replied confidently, taking a drink of his beer.

After a drink and some much appreciated golf advice from Glen and Tom, another man made his way to your table and stopped next to Larissa. "Red wine, a fine choice" he said, flashing her a toothy smile. Larissa smiled back and nodded, "Yes, it's my go to." The man looked around the table at the older men, then at you. "May I buy you another?" he asked, gesturing to her drink. Your eyes narrowed at him, how arrogant, it seemed that he had deemed her available to flirt with. Tom laughed and shook his head, "You're barking up the wrong tree pal." Larissa glared at Tom with an expression that said 'shut up.' She then looked up at the man and waved her hand dismissively, "Thank you, but I'm fine." The man replied while eyeing Larissa up and down. "Are you sure? I saw you golfing today, and I'm pretty impressed." Larissa chuckled but shook her head no, about to politely decline again, when you spoke up. You furrowed your eyebrows at the man and placed your hand on Larissa's, "She said she's fine." The man's eyes widened in surprise as they shot to you. He then nodded and headed back to his table. Larissa gazed down at you and chuckled in amusement and surprise, squeezing your hand lightly. She hoped you couldn't read it on her face, but she thought it was precious, how you defended her. "Someone has a crush" Glen spoke, picking up his beer and taking a sip. Larissa smiled, "I'm sure he just wanted to talk about golf." Glen raised his eyebrows as he looked at you, "I'm not talking about him."

Larissa gave him a questioning look before letting go of your hand, "I'll be right back." As soon as Larissa entered the building and was out of sight, the men turned to you. "So, what are your intentions with our friend here?" Tom asked. You tilted your head in confusion, "What do you mean?" "Do you like her?" Glen chimed in. You raised a brow, "Well yeah, I like her. Why wouldn't I?" Tom and Glen smirked at each other before chuckling at your obliviousness. "No, are you interested in her? Do you like women?" Your mouth dropped open as you blushed lightly. You knew the answer to that question, but why did they care? You shrugged, "No, no. I mean maybe, yeah."

Larissa was making her way back from the washroom when caught your conversation. She stopped at the door and discreetly listened in. "Well, she likes women, and she's single" Glen replied, hinting. Larissa's mouth opened in disbelief, they were just casually outing her to you? Okay then. "You know she's 49, right?" Tom laughed. Larissa's mouth dropped further, they weren't ones to talk about age. You chuckled and shook your head at the men, now eager to speak the truth. "I don't care if she's 49, she's fucking lovely." Glen and Tom erupted into laughter at your response, but inside, a toothy smile lit up the older woman's face. Larissa's heart swelled in her chest at your words, you innocent thing you. She returned to the table and settled down next to you, scooting her chair closer to yours. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled down at you, and when you returned a side smirk, she gave you a knowing wink.

☼☼☼

Part 2

[martiandmichelle]

I had some free time - which I rarely do - and decided to look back through some of my old pics. Some of you long-time followers may remember this series of pics: before I made it "big" in porn I used to love going to bars frequented my the many golfers that come to Florida and see if I could pick any guys up for a night of fun (my kind of fun, if you know what I mean 😉😈.) I would look for a foursome that seemed in fair play for me. So it happened one night, a Thursday night, when I got myself a hotel suite and went down to the bar to try my luck before going out to a nightclub. Well, not only did I get a foursome; I got two foursomes (all friends) and we ended up in my suite just as I had planned!

Let's just say that fun was had by all - especially me! Things went so well that night that they forgot about golf of Friday - and on Saturday - and on Sunday! My tits were thoroughly sucked, my pussy thoroughly fucked, and my mouth totally filled with cum, many, many times. And they took so many photographs - like literally thousands, This one is an example: can you tell my nipples were having fun?!

That Sunday evening when two of them were sucking my tits while one banged my pussy, a fourth guy lamented the end of their stay. I reminded them I lived in the area so whenever they wanted to come back I could arrange to meet them. As a fifth guy popped his cock in my mouth they told me they get together every six months for a golf outing and why don't they just come back to Florida? It was hard for me to nod my approval with a cock pounding my throat, but I managed.

Six months later they returned - with two more foursomes! And an extra day! Plus, they never took their golf clubs out of their cars! But they did score A LOT of holes in one!

[1824deadpoetssoc]

Spoilers for final episode of BBC Ghosts

So, Ghosts is over. I’ve seen a lot of people talking about being disappointed with the last episode. I’m not at all. I would have liked it to have been longer than the normal 30mins, just so we could get in to some of it a bit more.

Anyhow, I have some thoughts on what the ghosts might like about the hotel, and how Alison might leave the house but doesn’t really leave them. It’s a long one, and I made it mostly for myself as I wanted to get the thoughts out of my head!

So these are my head canons…

Alison returns there regularly to walk in the grounds with them whilst Mike plays golf, they have all their family celebrations there (A second child’s/grandchild’s christening party, wedding anniversary celebrations, graduation parties, milestone birthdays, Mia gets married there etc…), and the ghost come, join in & dance (because they love a party!) and they obviously return for Christmas every year.

I also don’t think the ghosts hate the hotel after a while either. There is an endless stream of guests and staff to keep them entertained. I like to imagine there is still the ballroom for weddings & functions, conference rooms, the library and a games room. I like to think the library contains the history of the house and holds a version of Button House archives for guests who want to know more about the history of the building.

Julian likes to mess about behind the desk with the booking system or follows the golfers around the course throwing shade about their skills. He sits in the members bar of an evening and listens in on the local Tory gossip from Barclay.

Lady Button spies on the guests/staff with faux disgust & gossips about them. The hotel hosts a murder mystery evening and she loves it.

Robin hangs out with the maintenance team & likes to mess with the lights to keep them on their toes. There are several chess boards in the games room, Alison sneaks a “reserved, don’t touch” sign on one of them so he can still play chess with Julian.

The Captain does morning inspections of the grounds, and visits the gym- there’s a PT employed there with very impressive arms (ahem, carry on). When the hotel hosts wedding receptions he is in his element.

Thomas has a dramatic “across the class divide” (his words) infatuation with a chambermaid who is working at the hotel whilst studying for her MA in English Literature. She sees his portrait in the Thorne suite & tells her friends that she finds him attractive and makes him the object of her regency romance style fantasies. This makes him extremely happy (and even more insufferable).

Pat loves the regular quiz nights hosted in the members bar. He still runs all the clubs in whichever function rooms are empty. Very much enjoys hanging out at the breakfast buffet.

Kitty likes to wonder down to the spa and watch people get manicures. She listens in on all the beauticians chatting about their love lives & celebrity gossip. She reads magazines over people’s shoulders whilst they wait for their treatments.

Humphrey also enjoys the members bar with Julian as he likes to hear people joking and having fun. There are a few French members of staff & Robin continues to help him learn the language by listening in on those conversations.

So, for me the Ghosts are able to continue a very happy afterlife, and are still very involved with Alison and her actual life.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Top Spies Part 5/8

Okay, now I'm happy! 😄

Ruben and Reader are super spies, who have to pretend to be a married couple on vacation as a co-signed mission. A enemies to lovers fic, very sweet and funny!

Enjoy!

Things weren't awkward between you and Ruben since your little rumble in the sand, they were just different.

"So what are your plans for today?" You asked. Ruben was just returning from his morning jog, shirtless and dripping in sweat. You sat on the villas front balchony, enjoying a light breakfast.

"Not much, you?"

"Alejandro has invited us to play golf with him and his family this afternoon."

Ironically you and Ruben had settled in quite well with Alejandro and his family. They would often insist that you join them for a day on their yacht or a day kayaking in the sea. Ruben would usually try and come up with excuses why you shouldn't go, but Alejandro and his family kept insisting.

"What did you say?" Ruben asked.

"Well I said that you weren't much of a golfer and that it would probably be just me."

"Bet Alejandro liked that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You frowned.

"The guy is clearly into you Y/N. He's just waiting for me to let you out of my sight."

"And will you?"

The scent of man invaded your nostrils as Ruben stepped up to you. For a moment you thought he was going to bend down and kiss you, however he paused as his lips hovered above yours.

"Never."

He snatched a grape from your plate. You admired the way his back muscles moved as he headed inside to shower. A part of you wanted to drop your skirt and join him. A very dominant part of you imagine what it would be like to fuck Ruben. Would he be gentle or rough? Handsy or tough?

Your guess was a bit of both.

********************************************

It was very obvious that Ruben wasn't much of a golfer, that he had never even held a club before. He was fine leaving you to it. Alejandro's nephew was eager to show him his collection of torphies instead.

"That's alot of golfballs." You acknowledged.

Arriving at Alejandro's golf course there were several piles of them overflowing the ranch.

"I'm thinking of expanding the resort with four more courses across the island, all with a view of the coast." He said.

"And for that you need more golfballs, makes sense." You nodded. "You should ad some more obstacles to the course, like a pond."

"No. Sand is fine. With water it gets too complicated with the golfballs."

You understood what he meant. It really was a hassle fishing golfballs out of the water, most of them got lost forever.

"Have you ever played golf professionally?" Alejandro asked. He was observing the way you picked your next golfclub, carefully weighing it in your hand, giving it a light swing.

"I stopped in the junior categories due to lack of funding from my parents."

"A shame. I would have stepped up as a sponsor if I knew you back then."

"Well that's very kind of you to say."

You learned that Alejandro supported alot of youth golfers in Portugal, including his nephew. You truly shared the passion for the sport, him a bit more since he was willing to invest in many young players careers.

"If I may ask, what was your maiden name before you got married?"

"It's was....."

You almost said it. You almost blew your cover revealing your real name.

Alejandro noticed your hesitation, tilting his head in curiosity. "I'm sorry for asking so many question but it feels like I should know who you are based on your merits. I've been on the board for the junior championships for over fiftheen years."

"No need to apologize. My junior career isn't somthing I'm really proud of. It basically eneded before it started."

"I see. And your maiden name was....?"

"Y/N!"

Thank god for Ruben. He interrupted you and Alejandro just in time.

"Yes?" You asked since he looked to have seen a ghost.

"Our reservations.... "

"Our what?"

He looked over your shoulders where Alejandro stood and that's when you realized that somthing was definitely up.

"Right, our reservations." You played along.

"You have reservations?" Alejandro questioned.

"Yes, to the spa." Ruben said.

"I'm sorry." You apologized. "I totally forgot about it."

Alejandro shook his head. "It's no worries. I can have Beatrice rearrange the reservations for tomorrow."

"That's very kind of you." Ruben said, already dragging you along with him. "But my wife and I need to relax today."

You left the golf course but did not stop at the spa nor the villa. Ruben drove you all the way to the marina before you finally asked him. "Whatta fuck?"

"There is a submarine." He said, a bit exhilarated about the fact.

"A what?"

"Alejandro's nephew told me that his uncle has a very big boat, like a whale. A whale that can dive underwater."

"What should we do?"

"Report back to Captain. But by then it might be too late. If the Drugs are here on the island I'm sure it's getting ready to get devided and split up in more portable amounts."

"I don't know Ruben, sounds like you want us to make the bust ourselves. I don't think that's such a good idea."

He turned to look at you, seeing the concern in your eyes.

"We won't do anything to jepordize the mission let's just assess the situation and gather evidence."

There was somthing in his eyes. He really wanted to do this.

"Fine, let's find this submarine of yours."

It was later in the evening when you choose to search the bay for a 100 meter submarine, lurking in the calm waters, however with no luck of finding it.

"They can't hide it underwater, another ship might run into it." Ruben said. "But what place could be big enough to hold a submarine, let alone hide it from an island full of tourists?"

"The caves at the golden cliffs!" You exclaimed. It's where Alejandro's family had taken you kayaking a couple of days ago. You never entered the dark caves with the kayaks, but surley they appered large enough to hide a submarine.

"Fuck Y/N, what would I do without you?"

You and Ruben traced the submarine to a hidden cove on the coast of the island, where it was anchored deep in the water.

"I can't believe it." You laughed. Ruben was right all along.

"We'll have to report back to the agency once we get our hands on the evidence. Call captain Harlow and tell him to prepare the team to demand a warrant for the arrest of Alejandro Martinez."

"Ruben your seriously not thinking about going down there are you?"

He looked eager to investigate further.

"Y/N, entering the ship is the only way I'll get a hold of the evidence that we need. Trust me, I won't be long."

Trust wasn't the problem, you thought.

Ruben took notice of this too, how your steps altered, your expression indecisive. All because you didn't want him to enter the ship and leave you behind.

"Hey." Ruben closed the gap between you, letting his hand stroke your cheek.

"Ruben I don't want you going down there."

"I know. " He nodded. "But I have to, it's our chance to finally put this guy behind bars."

"I know but..."

"You won't lose me Y/N. We're partners, remember?"

You smiled as his thumb swiped across your bottom lip. Either it was you who tilted your head up to kiss him or the other way around, him tilting down to kiss you. Nonetheless, you were kissing, a real kiss, soft and sweet.

You lips parted with the echoing sound of the cave, Ruben's forhead knocking against yours.

"Wait for me here." 

You nodded. "Okay."

As you made your way closer to the submarine, you suddenly heard the sound of footsteps behind. You and Ruben turned to see the shadow of a burly man, sneaking up on you.

"You're not supposed to be here!" The man growled, pulling out a gun.

He stepped into a spring of light, revealing his face. It was Andrés, Andrés Fierro.

"Alejandro won't be happy to know that you're here."

You and Ruben acted quickly, drawing your own weapons and taking cover behind a nearby boulder. You exchanged a quick glance, and then Ruben nodded.

"Ready?" he whispered.

You nodded, heart pounding in her chest. "Ready."

The battle was intense, with bullets flying through the air followed by the loud echoes exploding in the distance. You and Ruben had Andrés Fierro cornered. But as you made your way closer to the submarine, you suddenly felt a sharp pain in your shoulder.

"Ruben..."

You crumbled to the ground seeing the wound from the stray bullet.

Ruben saw the look of shock on your face and rushed to your side, pulling you behind a nearby boulder.

"Y/N, no!" he shouted, his voice filled with panic. "You've been hit!"

"Don't let him get away!" You said through gritted teeth. "He'll blow our covers."

Ruben looked conflicted, but he knew there was only one right thing to do.

"I'll be okay," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just finish the mission."

Ruben nodded, his eyes filled with determination. He knew that he had to get to the submarine. With a fierce cry, he charged forward. You heard two gunshots and the crumbling shouts of a man. The cave fell silent, however you were never in doubt, Ruben had killed Andrés Fierro.

[roe-and-memory]

at 17, during the 2005 dinoco grand national series (xfinity) season, lightning is invited by harv to a meeting he really has no business being at.

its to discuss lightnings future, how rusteze plans on closing their dgns team and reopening it under the piston cup series, and what that’ll look like. the only people who really need to be there are rusty, dusty, and harv — but lightning, and therefore mack as well, get invited along for the ride.

however, its over a game of golf.

lightning has never played golf before as his dad wasnt a huge golf fan — and even if he was, the man wasnt a big lightning fan either, so it wouldn’t have even mattered.

mack parks in the overflow parking lot with the truck the night prior, informs harv of their whereabouts, and locks it down for the night. the next morning, the man is banging on the truck door at first light, and when lightning inevitably answers (after mack doesnt get up off the top bunk, continuing to snore away) harv thrusts a nice, red, rusteze polo into his hands, and points at the bag of golf clubs on the tarmac below.

“tee time is 7:30, meet us at the clubhouse before then. youre looking to impress them today.” he says, and hes off.

lightning wakes up mack and gets ready for the day, taking fashion advice from his brother-figure, because theres no doubt that mack has golfed before, and soon enough the group is down at the clubhouse with the bag slung over his shoulder and his stance as uncomfortable as ever.

lightning learns pretty quickly that theres a reason he’s a racecar driver and not a golfer.

he leaves divots in the ground, he cant hit the ball any farther than ten feet away from the tee box, and the entire time harv is glaring daggers into him.

lightning has no place in the adults conversation, he knows that — harv trained him well enough to know that he doesnt interrupt or speak, just put on a good enough show that rusty and dusty will be impressed and more inclined to give him his dream — but what harv left out is that lightning also has to be a god at golf.

the agent ends up pulling him aside while rusty and dusty walk back to their cart after putting. he looks him in the eyes and in a low voice hisses that he’s not impressing them by acting like an idiot, and another assortment of verbal reprimands for not being perfect. lightning is trying his best, but with the confirmation that hes supposedly disappointing the people who have his future in their hands, he starts trying his very best to be the best damn golfer they’ve ever seen.

it doesnt work. he still can hardly hit the ball. by the 15th hole hes given up on hitting and just sits in the drivers seat of his and harv’s golf cart, awaiting the mans return and chauffeuring him to his ball or the greens or the next hole.. its discouraging, and harv gives him shit every time for lacking the talent and skill to just suck it up and be a good influence on their opinions.

by the end, rusty and dusty are proud to announce their new cup team with 17 year old lightning mcqueen as the driver for them, harv has drilled it into his head that it’s only his “expert” negotiating skills that got lightning this, and lightning had dislocated one of his shoulders trying to swing as hard as he could and ended up making contact with the ground instead, spending the rest of the night sprawled across his bunk, masking that pain until mack figured it out after.

[awesomefringey]

Here is a receipt from summer 2021

"I was spending my summer holidays with a few cousins at one of their family bungalows in Ireland. And the outskirts of this county I was in, is known for alot of celebs having their holiday homes.

Two of my cousins are golf enthusiasts and they have a membership in the nearby golf center. Its one of those boujee clubs that has golf but also other amenities. Almost like a leisure club yk. If you are a member, you get free food, drinks, you can use the gym, they even have a spa. Truly heavenly. They give 3 type of memberships: silver, gold and platinum. The names are self explanatory. My brothers had the gold one.

They offered me to join them for my last week there. And i have no interest in golf whatsoever so i just chilled and roamed around while they were golfing. My first two days there went without a hitch. Such a great aura. I enjoyed myself. But the next day, they had closed a section of the golf course where my brothers usually liked to golf. And they were a bit upset about it. They talked to the manager and they were told that a vip member(with platinum membership) was there who specifically asked to close that section for an hour and a half. They then gave my brothers a spot nearby as to not upset them further. I was in the viewers section above just watching my brothers golf, when I glanced towards the closed off area. I was shocked for a sec because I was sure that it was Harry but I was like there is no chance he is here. As the time went on, in the next 10 mins I was sure it was harry. Then this caddie I had become friends with came to the bleacher and I asked him about H and he told me that harry had a booking for for 3 days this week. Has been coming here with some of his friends. I was so star struck but like it also made me so happy and giddy. I observed him for a while and this caddie then told me in all the golf terminology that he was quite a decent golfer.

We returned back the next day, they weren't there. We went there the day after, and harry started golfing when my brothers were almost finishing but that day harry and louis were both on the golf course with 2 other guys who I assume were the same guys louis was chilling with. Louis was looking at Harry golfing. And oh god, it looked so domestic even from afar. At one point louis said something and they all laughed. Harry too laughed with his head thrown back. I watched them for 10-15 mins and I saw harry glance up at Louis like 5 times in that time span. They maybe just hanging out as friends tbh. But just seeing them together made me so happy.

Sorry for such a long receipt, I go too much into details haha. I am submitting this to you and to a few tumblr accs today cause I feel like our fandom needs it right now and its been a while since this happened. Good day!"

Got this in my twitter submissions. Idk how true it is but like thats the case with all the receipts. Hope you're having a good one!

Aww thank you for sharing it with us, Aster. ❤️

Always take these anons with a huge grain of salt, but the image of Harry throwing his head back laughing at Louis made me smile, so I’m not mad.

Edit: Just noticed how they turned from cousins to brothers. 🤦🏼‍♀️

[scotianostra]

John Rattray, the Scottish Jacobite Surgeon and golfer was born on September 22nd 1707, at Craighall Castle, Rattray, Perthshire.Another extraordinary man from our history, it has become a 20th century cliché that the best business contacts and opportunities for professional promotions may be made on the golf course. For one 18th century Edinburgh surgeon, however, it was his golfing connections which literally saved his life.In 1731 he joined the Royal Company of Archers, the Sovereign’s bodyguard in Scotland to this day. He was a proficient archer winning the Archer’s Silver Bowl on four occasions. On two further occasions in 1735 and 1744 he won the Silver Arrow, presented each year to the champion archer.John Rattray also proved to be a proficient golfer, and was the winner of the first recorded open golf championship in April 1744, the month before he and several others formed The Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers, who put down on paper the first 13 rules of golf, which are more or less still adhered to, to this day. A contemporary poem ‘The Goff’ by Rev. Thomas Mathison published in 1743, the first poem devoted to the sport of golf, it mentions both Rattray, and the man who would later save him from being executed, Duncan Forbes of CullodenNorth from Edina eight furlongs and more,Lies that fam’d field, on Fortha’s sounding shore.Here Caledonian Chiefs for health resort,Confirm their sinews by the manly sport.Macdonald and unmatch’d Dalrymple plyTheir pond'rous weapons, and the green defy;Rattray for skill, and Corse for strength renown’d,Stewart and Lesly beat the sandy ground,And Brown and Alston, Chiefs well known to fame,And numbers more the Muse forbears to name.Gigantic Biggar here full oft is seen,Like huge behemoth on an Indian green;His bulk enormous scarce can 'scape the eyes,Amaz’d spectators wonder how he plies.Yea, here great Forbes, patron of the just,The dread of villains and the good man’s trust,When spent with toils in serving human kind,His body recreates, and unbends his mind.John’s father was an Episcopalian priest who became the Bishop of Dunkeld, then of Brechin and was elected Primus of the Scottish Episcopal Church. On his death in 1743 his elder son James became clan chief and inherited the estate. As the second son John had no such inheritance and he trained as a surgeon in Edinburgh by apprenticeship to the surgeon John Semple between 1728 and 1735, when he began surgical practice in Edinburgh.Following the Battle of Prestonpans, Rattray treated the wounded on the battlefield and joined the Jacobite army travelling with them throughout the campaign.By the time of the Battle of Culloden in April 1746 he had become the personal physician to Bonnie Prince Charlie. Rattray was captured after the battle but was freed after a personal plea to the Duke of Cumberland from Rattray’s old golf playing partner, Duncan Forbes of Culloden, who was Scotland’s most senior judge and a supporter of the government.His intercession on Rattray’s behalf secured his release from prison and saved him from certain hanging, the fate of most Jacobite officers. He was re-arrested by the Hanoverians in Edinburgh and held under house arrest until the spring of 1747. Thereafter he returned to life in Edinburgh practicing as a surgeon and winning the Silver Club of the honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers in 1751. He continued to practice as a surgeon and died at his home in Leith Walk, Edinburgh, in July 1771.A relatively new statue and series of plaques honouring Rattray and the golfers now takes pride of place on Leith Links where the first golf tournament and meeting took place.

[plaindangan]

Cowede meets the Eden's garden cast! .. but plain writes it ? please UWU First part! da GALS~! (no spoilers of course~ but i'll let you follow what you know I think of the cast~)

Disclaimer: R18 material! If not to your liking then please do not view!

(Also quick reminder: Both Diana and, especially, Toshiko are 18+ when it comes to this blog.)

Eva

This sourpuss happened to be the first girl to wind up meeting Cowede - if in the most intimate way as the tall, curvy, bovine girl wounded up dropping on her~ Still, Cowy is anything if not empathetic - and knowing that Eva was a liar that needed someone to trust and hug and sink into a set of milky, tanned, boobas for a bit while venting her problems.....yeah, Cowede was glad to be that someone for her for a bit.

Grace

It was a one-sided rivalry which had Grace make jabs at Cowede's 'clearly fake-ass Hell tits' while Cowede spends her time trying to befriend Grace with the best thing she knew how: by helping Grace out via dressing the golfer up in a similar cowkini to help turn on Wolfgang~ Given how long both spent alone with each other later on...safe to say Grace took Cowede's advice to heart.

Diana

D'awwwwwwww!!!

Isn't she just the cutest!!!!

As soon as Cowede laid eyes on this bag of sunshine, she squealed and just had to give Diana not only a big ol' glomp, but kiss her face all over with Cowey's plump, mind fogging, luscious lips!! By the time Cow was done, there was no make-up on Earth that can cover-up all those lipstick stains coating Diana's body.

Ingrid

Mommy~

Ingrid reminded Cowede of her version of Harmony soooooooo much that she immediately latched onto Ingrid as her new Mommy figure. Always making sure to skip out to a brand new day by greeting her new 'Mother' with a wet kiss on the lips before skipping off - something Ingrid really appreciated.

Eloise

Awww!!!

What good is for someone to be that big and THICC in the hips, yet also be so shy?!! Nuuuuuuuuu! That's a waste!!! Hence why Coach Cowede had to teach her to have pride in her herself as a fellow Thiccy - even if Cowede was more focused on the 'top' than bottom. And how to teach? Why - simple!!! Have Eloise wear the skimpiest bikini Cowede could find until all those nerves disappeared in the face of getting people absolutely cumming in their pants - and Eloise would embrace herself as the Thicc Queen she was meant to be!!!

Toshiko

CUTEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

D'aww, even Eden's Club has their own Himiko!! How amazing...buuuuuuut, Cowede wouldn't be Cowede if she didn't bulli a flattie - and what better way to bully than by crushing Toshiko with quite the hefty pound of 'beefcake'~

Wenona

Hmph!! Such a meanie, especially for someone on the 'flatter' side of things - but Cowede can especially work with meanie! Especially, since Wenona is super smart and knew how to put a new spin on Cowede jaw-dropping twerk routine!! In this case? Why it was setting up Cowy with high paying clientele that was showering her with more moolah for this big girls' 'moo'ing...and lapdances~ In return, Wenona gains 20% of the earnings~ So, even if Wenona is a meanie, both had a way of making it work!

Cassidy

Oh, you bet your ass Cowede and Cassidy are streaming together for Cassidy's Only Fans. Cassidy is smart enough to see an opportunity when she sees one and is raking in the dough from two half-naked gamer girls flaunting their stuff for a few hours........f-for charity midn you!!

Mara

Cowede had to work to get in a big smooch and glomp to Mara...after all, hard to do that when she was so introverted...and so trigger happy too~ Thankfully, Cowede is nothing if not persistent and finally managed to pin down the markswoman with her heavy boobas. As for pacifying her? Why, nothing but some good smooching to Mara's hard abs can't fix~

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Richard Luscombe at The Guardian:

Donald Trump returned to the campaign trail in Florida on Tuesday night, hurling insults at Joe Biden and airing a litany of familiar grievances, but declining to name a running mate for November’s general election. The former president and presumptive Republican nominee was speaking to a crowd of several hundred supporters at his golf club in Doral, a western suburb of Miami, keeping them waiting in 90F heat for a freewheeling monologue that began more than an hour later than scheduled.

There was speculation that he might use his first public appearance since last month’s debate with the president to announce Florida senator Marco Rubio, who was present, as his vice-presidential pick, six days ahead of the Republican national convention (RNC) in Milwaukee. Instead, Trump delivered a rambling 75-minute speech that included a succession of attacks on Biden and his faltering debate performance, which has raised questions among Democrats on whether the 81-year-old president was robust enough for a second term of office.

He seized on the post-debate turbulence that has prompted calls from some senior Democrats for Biden to step down and nominate Kamala Harris. “The radical left Democratic party is divided in chaos, and having a full scale breakdown all because they can’t decide which of their candidates is more unfit to be president, sleepy, crooked Joe Biden or laughing Kamala,” he said, repeating previous derogatory terms for the pair.

“Despite all the Democrat panic this week, the truth is it doesn’t matter who they nominate because we are going to beat any one of them in a thundering landslide.” Trump has kept a lower than usual profile in the days since the debate, a strategy an aide described as designed to allow Democrats to tear into each other following Biden’s dismal debate performance.

His remarks on Tuesday were notable for adding the vice-president’s name to numerous attacks on Biden policies, and sprinkling in mentions of both Rubio and Byron Donalds, a Republican Florida congressman also believed to be on Trump’s shortlist for vice-president. Otherwise, it was a standard Trump stump speech, full of evidence-free claims that his 2020 election defeat was fraudulent; baseless accusations that overseas nations were sending to the US “most of their prisoners”; and a laughable assertion that a gathering of supporters numbering in the hundreds was really a crowd of 45,000. It also touched on the surreal. Biden, he insisted, had raised the price of bacon four-fold. “We don’t eat bacon any more,” Trump said.

Electric cars, he said, “cheated” the US public because drivers had to stop for three hours to recharge their vehicles after every 45 minutes of driving. And, in an echo of one of the more bizarre debate exchanges with Biden over who was the better golfer, he challenged his White House successor to 18 holes over the Doral course while granting a 10-stroke concession. “It will be among the most watched sporting events in history, maybe bigger than the Ryder Cup or even the Masters,” Trump said, pledging $1m to a charity of Biden’s choosing if he lost. Returning to politics, Trump assailed Democrats for tax rises he said they wanted to impose; criticized Biden for the US military’s chaotic 2021 withdrawal from Afghanistan; and promised to build an “iron dome” missile defense system for the US, if he was elected in November.

Donald Trump’s first post-debate rally on Tuesday in Doral, Florida served up the greatest hits of lies to his gullible brainwashed rallygoers.

See Also:

HuffPost: Trump Attacks Biden’s Debate Performance In Lie-Filled Return To Campaign Trail