#TUCKING THE GOLF TEE BETWEEN HIS TEETH AND BEHIND HIS EAR??

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Tyrone Mings vs GOLFGIRLS - 2 v 2 Match Play | Golf Girls Episode 13 | Mia Baker

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swing!

Title: swing! Pairing: Zhang Yixing/Reader Genre: 1920’s!AU/Golf!AU Summary: Zhang Yixing might not be good at golf…but he is really good at making moves on someone.

To spend a lifetime being compared to the ever-talented, extremely charismatic, always pragmatic, intelligent, powerful—and of course, a man of wealth, Zhang Yixing, is something that someone like her can’t even afford to live. She, on the other hand, is just a worker of the golf club to which he goes to, hidden behind a golf bag and a tacky shirt and pants combo that she uses as a uniform, who knows the sport better than the man and still, she never gets to showcase her talent. Yixing, expectedly, is praised by older males on the talent that they have discovered when the ball he hits can barely make it past three centimeters away from his feet.

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.

Though not harsh feelings were held against Zhang Yixing, for he was one of the few things that she looked forward to every Saturday when she had to carry people’s bags, since being a caddie definitely was not the job of her dreams. For a person like her in the community she lived in, as well as the economic and cultural problems that have been taking place in everyone’s lives, being a caddie was the closest thing she could get to being happy. It was that or being a waitress and she would rather watch people play golf instead of smelling like fried food all day, so she took the job and shut her mouth. Not being able to study also took a big part of the blame, but most of the time she did not think much—there were some good players, like Do Kyungsoo who was a lord when playing, but then there was Zhang Yixing and his messy hitting technique. People applauded him and apparently, he got a lot of recognition around the country for golfing apart from being the child of a wealthy man.

The sun glimmers its light down onto the dark strands of ebony hair that were brushed neatly over his head. The blue sky gave a big contrast to his usual brown suit, a little bit on the baggier side, but the wind blowing every so often gave a highlight of his taut muscles when the fabric stuck to his skin momentarily. A tie. A smile. Definitely a lot of preach and praise from a bunch of men that knew nothing about golf, or maybe they did, but they decided not to make Yixing feel bad about himself. Rich boy problems, probably.

It was an early morning, her eyes practically closing when the person that owned the bag she was holding started his turn, but she remained awake thanks to the nudges that came from another caddie—Kim Junmyeon, the ever responsible one that never got tired of smiling. As a caddie, she also had to make sure that people were excited to play the game, work as moral support, but most of the time when Yixing is there she finds herself short on words. Though clumsily playing and cursing under his breath when he realizes that he did a little bit worse than average or average on a god day, Zhang Yixing catches her attention for not only was he good looking, his looks were also ethereal. Perhaps the way his brown eyes glowed was what was doing it.

Or maybe, she just hadn’t seen anyone that good looking.

She claps when someone makes a ball in one, specifically one of the older man and the last one to play for that round, moving forward to the next stop, the sixteenth hole. However, her ears perk up the moment Yixing starts walking beside Junmyeon, his eyes meeting Junmyeon’s gaze momentarily.

“I really need to win this game.”

“...Well, Mister, I am sorry but I’m afraid you could not unless someone really did not play well in this round.” Junmyeon replies, making Yixing pucker up his lips. His own competitiveness must have gotten the best of himself and while seeing himself as the loser in this game, he felt the need to simply win for once. But golf is so complicated in his eyes, when in reality it is a dance, where the tee is your ground and you hit a ball to land, it’s precision—like math, even, where you can’t make a mistake but there are different ways to approach a problem.

Even though she was not invited in the conversation, she adds her own commentary. “Mister, I’m sorry if you did not ask for my opinion...but think of it as a dance. You’re a musical actor, you know about that, it’s motion...you make a quick, sharp hit that varies in strength depending on the round...but the movement is always the same, you just need to be more precise and perfect your technique.” She adds professionally, knowing fully well what she was talking about. Yixing seems to understand what she was saying, of course, she used an example of his daily life for him to comprehend the game.

“I...understand.” Yixing whispers.

“You’re hitting as if you were playing baseball, you have to be powerful but precise, not too heavy on the hand either. Delicacy is good.” She responds with ease and the man with the suit seemed impressed, raising his eyebrows at the way she spoke. Junmyeon was one of the few people that knew just how great she was at playing golf.

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.” That is because she does. Golf became a passion for her, it was relaxing in its own way and she avoided getting too sweaty like in other sports. It had its technique and it did not harm anyone, so it could not be any better. “I’ll make sure to follow your instructions.”

Junmyeon speaks up again. “Please, do! She really knows what she is talking about.” Always excited and a bit too proud of accomplishments in her life, she smiles at the words that escaped Junmyeon’s lips.

Either way, Yixing failed in the process of playing, for he was too harsh and the way he cursed under his breath went unnoticed by everyone but herself. He definitely needed some help with his technique, but she did not mind all that much, Junmyeon was the one that shall be giving him moral support.

Normally, she wakes up at four in the morning.

Four in the morning is the moment when she washes her face, brushes her teeth and then, she takes the coldest shower in the world, for the water in her old, small house was never warm, not even in the hottest summers. She brushes her hair, puts on her clothes that consist of a beige cap and all white clothing, a flowy white button down that is tucked inside a pair of equally as loose fitting as the shirt and then, she does her best not to spill any of her breakfast on her clothes as she munches quickly, for the reason why she woke up so early was because of transportation. She lived far away from the golf course and her boss would have her head if she dared to get there even five minutes after the time, but it was also her need to always be on time, after all, she needed to clean up whatever mess people had made by the counter where they make their appointments, she also had to make some coffee in case any of the first people arriving wanted some. Her coworkers had it easy, for they lived a little bit closer than she did and they did not have to worry all that much.

The bus that she takes at five thirty in the morning is too familiar for her. The old red leather of the seats made her worried that they would leak their color on her clothes, but they were insanely uncomfortable, too. The driver was one that did not talk much, an old man that she never talked to, but there are some students here and there that talk to her, even the neighbor that comments they are going to the city. Normally, she would like to take a nap on the way to work but she never does, for she is too hyper under the magic of coffee and the roads are bumpy.

It is normally six thirty when she gets to work, thirty minutes before she had to start working—well, she got there at six forty, considering that she had to walk from the bus stop to the golf course. The place is big and decorated expertly with woodened decorations, golf clubs, bags scattered neatly, pictures of famous people that arrived there hanging from the walls and much more. Usually, she went directly behind the counter after greeting the owner of the golf course to indicate her arrival, cleaning up whatever she found and looking at the appointment list. She reads the names when the door opens, the bell over the door ringing before the door was closed and when she looked up, Zhang Yixing was there.

Strange, since he had not booked an appointment.

She does not greet him, she waits until he stops looking around and his feet—graceful and rhythmic on stage—bring him right in front of her. Yixing looks at the medals, the recognitions and then, his powerful brown eyes settle on top of hers. She sees purpose in the way he looked at her, as if he had suddenly changed his mind set for anything that was going through his head, but then the determination in his eyes is shadowed by the smile on his face. He has dimples, prominent and deep, and his bottom lip juts out slightly when he smiles, his eyes turn into half-moons of soft wonder, not mischief, but they leave her with a sense of confusion as she merely gives a tiny, tight lipped-smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Zhang, you’re here early—What can I help you with?” She picks up the pencil to write down an appointment, which is probably what he was looking for, but it was not even Saturday, let alone the weekend. It was one of the days with less people playing, for Wednesdays are the days in between, no one really cares about them but they are filled with work. Maybe, Yixing did not have to rehearse for his big musicals that day.

“Morning.” Yixing breathes out the greeting as he places his interlocked hands over the counter, blinking softly as the ghost of a blush appears to cover his dimple-y cheeks. “You can actually help me out a lot...mhm...hi, first off, you can call me Yixing.”

She freezes for a moment, taking in the situation before nodding her head. “Okay, Yixing, what can I help you with?”

It seems that whatever he wants help with is taking a toll on him. Yixing is shy, moving a bit from side to side as he ponders on what to say. “You see...I asked Junmyeon for your name, because...I don’t know if you have noticed but I suck at golfing.” She would have scoffed if only she wasn’t so nice, because she really did notice and she thought that Yixing was oblivious to it, but it seemed like he had noticed. That explains why he cussed whenever he missed, when he lost, maybe it was because he was trying. “But I started playing golf because my dad invited me over here and...now that I am older, I use it as my meeting place for people who want to make business with me. But I make a total fool of myself.”

Even though acceptance is important, she doesn’t know why Yixing is even talking to her about this subject. “Okay, Yixing, but what do I have to do with all that?”

“...You sounded intelligent when you gave me advice. Later on, when I was talking to Junmyeon, he told me you actually played.” Junmyeon has a few quirks to his personality, some things that she truly does not like, and it is that he feels like he needs to brag about his friends and in most situations that’s excellent, but in her case, she felt like choking him right at that moment. She does not play publicly all that much, even less in a place like the golf course that was surrounded by rich people with power and wealth, whom would be terrified to even see someone as poor as her playing.

“Well, I do not.”

Yixing shakes his head. “No need to be shy about it.”

“I’m not shy. I’m just not good at it.” She lies and Yixing breathes through his nose. Deep. Very deep.

“Listen,” Yixing is less shy and more serious now, pressing his hand to the counter as his smile falters. “This is a huge blow to my ego and I really, like really, need to prove myself that with practice and dedication I can get good at golfing.” She shakes her head as she was about to open her mouth to complain but Yixing interrupts her. “I’ll pay you. I don’t know, tell me your price per lesson and I will come here at any given time. I’ll even talk to y0ur boss to see if we can have a single course all for ourselves for, at least, an hour—”

Okay, that did sound inviting. It was intelligent of Yixing to pull the money card.

“Okay.” She breathes out and Yixing’s smile appears once again, all dimples and sun and blinding her to the point she feels like her eyes and her heart are connected and suddenly, her heart is jumping out of delight because she had made him smile. “Ask my boss if we can have a spot for ourselves. I get out of here at...four o’clock every day, so you tell me when we can meet.”

Yixing licks his lips. “Wednesdays sound great to you? I am currently working on a musical and any other day, except Wednesdays, are taken around that time.”

“Wednesdays are perfect.” Because she has nothing else to do. For the past year and a half, her life consisted of getting up to go to work and then going back to her house to go to sleep so she could sleep the tiredness from work away. She doesn’t remember the last time she met up with her friends to have a cup of coffee and it has been even longer since she got to have someone that accompanied her every day—like a boyfriend. Those days were left in the past, for she was an adult and adults broke their back working every day to have food on the table.

Yixing nods his head. “Can I wait at your boss’ office so I can talk to him?”

She looks over her shoulder to see the door behind her, humming in agreement. “Actually, he’s there already. Go inside.”

“Thank you.” Though she does not know if he was saying it because she had agreed to the lessons or because she had been helpful to him. Either way, she catches a glimpse of Yixing’s shoulders when he walks to the door behind her, biting her bottom lip to hold back a smile before returning to her job.

Do Kyungsoo at Nine. Nine holes game—

As soon as the clock hit four in the afternoon the Wednesday after her conversation with Yixing, she moved over to the spot that was given to them, waving goodbye to her coworkers that went to their houses. The sun was as hot as fire as she sat down by the grass, her cap serving her as a way of covering herself from the sun as she waited for Yixing to arrive. Her nervousness levels were at a peak, mainly because she wanted to do great, and because Yixing was handsome and well...it had to do something to her brain in one way or another. It was at that time that she stood up from the grass, looking for the bag that she had brought with herself to take out one of the golf clubs. Lightweight on her hand, almost as if it was her index finger, she held it comfortably before placing the tiny golf ball on the tee.

She learned how to play golf when she was a teenager and she actually learnt it from her ex-boyfriend, or boyfriend at that time. The two would sneak into his uncle’s backyard only to play around with a single golf ball and an old golf club. The relationship was stupid on so many levels, for the boy would get angry that his girlfriend could be better than him in something, and she broke it off in one of their plenty of arguments. She was young, she was dumb, but she took something from the relationship. A talent that she does not like to show, but it remains her little secret.

She placed her weight on her legs, leaving her arm to be soft and delicate with its motion to reach a hole that was some good ten meters away from her, definitely not the longest path for the ball to make. Her mind is concentrated when she hits the golf ball, landing on the spot and making a smile appear on her face. It was all about precision.

“That was cool.”

She jumps when she hears the sound of someone’s voice, one that was not familiar to her on a first listen but once she turns around, she wonders why she did not recognize Yixing’s voice. The man looked as put together as always, his hair sleeked back, a pair of round, thin framed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He wore a white button down with a red tie, dark colored trousers and thank god that Yixing did not follow the male trends of putting his socks over his pants. It looked dumb, in her opinion, the only person who managed to get that look to seem—somewhat—fashionable was Do Kyungsoo and still, he looked like a child.

“A-Ah...mhm...yeah? I guess? Sorry.” She responds, as if she had anything to be sorry for, and Yixing looks at her with his eyes squinted because of the sun. Yixing had a calming aura within him, one that had the nervousness drained out of her body in the matter of seconds. “You really think so?”

“I do.”

“Are you not even remotely angry that a woman is better than you at golf?”

Yixing frowns, shrugging his shoulders. “Why would I be? You’re...good, that does not have to do with your gender or my gender or whatever.” At that exact moment, a light of hope suddenly passed by her head. Of course, inequality was a big subject around the world at that moment and the only thing she wanted for her future, if she ever had kids and grandkids and then grand-grandkids, was to have a world in which they did not worry about being judged. Yixing was generous, calm, somehow he gave her the idea that he was intelligent, very much so. “So, shall we start the lesson?” She nods her head, giving the golf club she was using to the man. Yixing holds it unprofessionally in between his both hands, making her shake her head in an instant.

“No, no, no, no.” She repeats, almost as if she had seen Yixing sin in the worst way possible. Golf-wise, it might be. “Don’t hold it so down low, it makes you look unprofessional.”

“Okay, then right over here?” Yixing moves forward until he is standing in front of the tee, picking up another golf ball from the many that she had brought in the bag she was carrying before. “So, teacher, tell me what to do.”

“It is all about movement.” She says after taking a golf club of her own, placing it in between her hands as she stood beside Yixing. “Look at me,” She calls out and he does what she said, his eyes scanning the way she held the golf club and fixing his position. “You should scrunch a little bit when you’re preparing to hit the ball. First thing is that you have to see the angle, use your surroundings to help you, just see the path that the ball has to follow.” She explains easily, her words making Yixing nod repeatedly. “It’s not always going straight, so you can use the depth of the ground or the decorations around it to help yourself, sometimes you have to hit something so it moves somewhere else and lands where you want it to. It’s a bit about physics.”

“Okay,” Yixing adds and then, he fixes his position slightly. “What’s next?”

“Second, when hitting you have to lift the golf club as necessary as you deem it. For example, if it’s too close you don’t lift it all that much, it’s more like a nudge, like how I did previously. I-If you’re looking for more of a strong hit, lift the golf club like this,” She moves the golf club back until it was hovering on the air, hitting the ball soon after and moving her legs with her, one behind the other, the golf club ending up with a slight distance from her shoulder. Yixing watches as it lands on one of the holes, leaving him astonished.

“...Wow.” He speaks lowly and then, he shakes his head out of his trance. “How do you even do that—? That’s...impossible.”

“Practice.” She responds. “So try it.”

“In this first hole?”

“In that one.”

Yixing takes a deep breath and she watches the way his shoulders tense at the mere sight of the golf ball on the tee. He pulls the golf club away slightly before hitting the ball, only for it to give a curve and land somewhere else. “Good power, bad precision. Try again.”

There was something she learnt about Zhang Yixing that night and it was that he always tried his hardest, but he was really bad at golf. He had mastered the routine, almost like a dance, that consisted of hitting the ball but his aim was terrible. The two hinted at small conversation as they played, the man asking what she did outside of working there and where did she learn how to play. It was about to be five o’clock—meaning, the end of the class—when Yixing finally landed a hit from the tee, making the woman smile widely as she congratulated him. Maybe, after some classes, there could be some future for Yixing in golfing.

She leaves at five thirty, for Yixing had to go to some expensive dinner and she had to catch the last bus that was going to her side of town. Little did she know that when she arrived home, it was already dark and she was starving. It was worth it, though, for the smile on Yixing’s face was priceless.

Yixing had practiced.

The next Wednesday, she noticed that he took his Saturday golfing tournament to better his skills and he was getting a bit better at aiming to score, so she was glad that she had served him for something. In the meantime, as Yixing practices with different courses, she likes to look at the way he looks as he plays. Yixing has a look of concentration that could not be found anywhere else and a part of herself wondered why she had never taken the time to go to one of his musicals. Seulgi had said that his voice when acting and singing was beautiful and that his dancing was like no other, so she was legitimately curious. Either way, she should not step away from her boundaries and she should remind herself that she does not have a lot of money to spend on a music night.

Yet, she really needed to go out...and she realized that with the two weeks that she has spent teaching Yixing. The two talk to no end throughout their classes and Yixing always seems to talk about a friend or another one or a coworker—but she never talks anyone. It is always work for her and it is always work for him, but he manages to balance out everything. However, she would not blame anyone for ever wanting to be friends with Zhang Yixing, he was terribly charismatic as well as a caring persona.

If only he was good at golf, he’d be the perfect human being.

But perfect people do not exist, obviously.

The class ended on a rush, however, around five twenty-five as she widened her eyes once she looked down at her watch. “Sorry, Yixing. I have to go, if not, I will be left by the bus and I live very far away—” The man softened his gaze when he heard her rapidly increasing tone of voice as she tried to move away, but his fingers gripped softly at her wrist to bring her back. “Yixing, I’m—”

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed a ride back home last week?” Yixing asks softly, his voice as tender as always before he shook his head. “I can drive you back home, if you want.”

“That would be too nice of you. I can’t accept the offer.”

“Come on,” The wealthy man speaks as he nudges her side and she considers it for a moment. Would she exchange the raw leather of the bus for something a bit more comfortable? She would, oh, she would definitely do it, but it was the fact that Yixing was offering it that made it so special. Yixing was like a warm cup of coffee, he did not burn her with the rush of drinking it just to get to work for he never rushed with her, but he also did not leave her cold with a bitter taste on her tongue for he was sweet.

She sighs,nodding her head and making Yixing smile. “Sure, sure.” She repeats the word and Yixing lets go of her hand, walking around the course to help her pick up the missed balls and the golf clubs they used. “You should not be helping me. You’re one of my clients, after all—”

Yixing raises an eyebrow. “And?” He asks, as if it was the most obvious of things to be helping her. “You know, just because we have different numbers in our bank accounts does not mean that we have to treat each other like someone is better than the other. It’s dumb, it’s what destroys you as a society.” The explanation leaves her wondering what the world did to have someone like him. It was so rare to meet someone like Yixing that was not a poor person, so to see that he could change the world with his own opinion felt like a gush of fresh air. “I have hands, thankfully, so I can sue them.”

“You’re...so nice, I don’t know how you do it.”

Yixing fixes the beret over his head as he speaks. “I like helping you, that’s all.”

“That’s called being nice!”

“Well, you’re nice to me, too!” Yixing fights back and then, a smile appears on his face. “And you’re good at teaching. Maybe, you should consider taking golf a little bit more seriously.”

She lifts her chin, shakes her head and with a nostalgic smile, she responds. “I should, I could, but I won’t.”

“Why?”

“Because that would be the right thing to do.” She answers. “And I might not be as nice as you.”

But it was sarcasm and indeed, Yixing was the nicest person that she had ever gotten to know. He stood by her side as she closed every window and door in the golf course and then, he opened the door to his Rolls-Royce Phantom I Jonckheere Coupe, welcoming her into the comfortable car with burgundy seats. Yixing is by her side in no time, his fingers holding the key and putting it to the ignition before starting the car. She indicated where she lived, making Yixing widen his eyes momentarily.

A pang of guilt hits her heart when she realizes that Yixing was a busy man, way busier than she was, and he was the one that had offered to take her home. While his intentions were nice, she did not want to take two hours of his day to take her to her house and then go back to the city.

“Uh...if you really can’t, I understand. Your intentions were nice, after all.” She replies with uncertainty in her voice and Yixing scoffs, giving a turn at a street as he shook his head.

“It’s not a problem to take you there.” The way Yixing speaks to her makes her feel like there is some niceness left in the world. Not that she had it the worst, but she had met plenty of people that had closed their doors right in front of her face—even members of her own family—so to see that there was someone out there who would be willing to help her, even if that meant losing two hours of his day, was refreshing. “But I’m surprised. I did not know that you had to take a bus to come here and then one to go back. That’s...impressive.”

“Wait until I tell you that I wake up at four in the morning.” Yixing’s mouth parts in an ‘o’ when he hears her words, her voice soft and paused as it came out of her vocal chords.

“No—”

“Yes.”

“No way.” Yixing says before he leaned back on his seat, his shoulders relaxing, one of his hands resting by his side. A good driver he was, of course. “How do you do it?”

Shrugging, she answers. “I’m used to it.” Yixing looks over his shoulder to take a glance at her face, His eyes show happiness and somehow, it reminds her of the warm meals she used to have when she was a child.

“You’re amazing.” Yixing compliments and then, he releases a soft breath. “I also have to wake up early, people sometimes say I do too many things but I find it interesting that you do that, as well.”

“My job’s not too difficult, though.” She says and Yixing squints his eyes as he looks at the road. “What is it?” She asks, voice strained with a short laugh.

“You know how to play golf. That’s more than enough.” Yixing indicates and then, with a movement of his fingers he continues driving. “Look at me, I’m so bad at it and I am still successful.”

She chuckles. “You’re getting better, though. I mean it.” The sound of her voice is truthful and sincere, making the man smile bashfully. The rest of the car drive is spent talking about what they like and what they don’t and with each passing day, she finds it easier to talk to Yixing, as if his smile was stardust—magical enough to have her talking about her life with no judgment, not an ounce of fear inside her body. Yixing is comfort.

“Swing!”

“...Are you sure?” Yixing adds with uncertainty, looking from the tee to the ball to the hole and then back again, the fear of not even getting close to it making his nerves rise. Yixing was definitely getting better after a month of practicing, each passing week he surprised her more and more, so she gave him more challenges each week. This time around, Yixing was doubting if he could even get it right. “That’s a bit too far.”

“And?” She asks, making Yixing look over his shoulder before releasing a soft breath. Her eyes rake down the expanse of his body, from his legs to his shoulders from the position she is in and she realizes that the suit he wore that day was more on the fitted side, the brown color complimenting his golden skin. Yixing scrunches down, places the golf club in front of the ball and he hits with force, the ball hitting a small wall, then running down a small path that led it to fall inside the hole. “See?! Yixing, you’re like pro level now! Oh my God!”

Yixing’s cheeks are flushed as he hears her speak, turning around to show her a big smile as he looked at the way she gleamed, shined at the sight of a man who had only gotten good thanks to her patience and her lessons. “You’re so cute.” The actor complimented, making the smile on her face soften for a more genuine one, lingered with surprise and Yixing can only laugh. “I’m only this good because you’ve taught me.” He says, patting her leg with his golf club and then, she stammers a bit on her words.

“It’s all about practice,”

“And determination.” Yixing continues and then, he rests the golf club against the grass, resting both hands on top of it to hold his weight, his body shifting slightly to stand closer to her. “Speaking of determination...I was wondering if you were free on Friday.”

She breathes out, looking down at his lips momentarily before looking up again. “After four.”

Yixing hums. “Have you ever gone to a speakeasy?”

She scoffs. “I’m not a prude, Yixing. Of course I have!”

“Then, go with me.” Yixing tells her, his voice sweet and delicate like a hundred tulips being placed on top of her hands, the scent of his cologne engulfs her and she wonders if it’s a reality. Zhang Yixing, musical actor that has travelled around plenty of continents showing his art was asking her out of all people to go to a speakeasy. To have a drink or two or many, talking to him as closer as ever, seeing him in his best clothing that matched the smile on his face that never seems to leave—now, that was the dream. “I’ll make sure to drive you home after, don’t worry. Just make sure to dress yourself comfortably.”

“Why?” She asks.

“Because we’re going to dance, of course!” Yixing says as a matter of fact, his voice rising comically and making her smile. The best dancer of the century was going to dance with her and she couldn’t be more terrified, but also really excited. “So? You in?”

“I’m in.” She replies with ease and then, she takes her own golf club and points towards another part of the course. “Over there, let’s go. Your class is not over.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

Maybe, going to a speakeasy with Yixing was a bad idea.

Or maybe it wasn’t, because she felt the prettiest that she has felt in a while. Her body was clad in a white dress, the back of it hanging low on her skin, the straps were thin and the material around her chest clung snugly, but not enough to make her feel suffocated. The fabric was not the softest, she had to admit that but the fabric fell in an A-line cut until it reached mid-thigh. It was not as long as the skirts that people used nowadays, but it was the type of style that was frequent around speakeasies. Yixing gave her his arm to hold as they entered the speakeasy and the first thing he does is invite her to a drink, raw and leaving her with the need to speak more than necessary.

Because that’s what she always liked about Yixing, how easy it was to talk to him in any way possible, and how handsome he was only added to the desire that lingered in her mind. Yixing was more than just a simple student, he was more than her frequent client, he was a friend, someone that cared enough about her to drive her home ever Saturday and Wednesday to make sure that she did not have to take the bus. He was the type to not care to be seen with a woman like her in such a public place like that one and most importantly—Yixing was the nicest man she had met in the entirety of her life. That’s why after two drinks, she asks him to dance.

Dancing is an action that he does perfectly well and with her hands resting on his shoulders—his lack of a jacket finally showed the toned figure that she knew he had—and he smiles at her with such happiness that it almost feels like they have known each other for the entirety of their lives. Yixing looks at her in awe, he watches the way she moves and even dares to place his fingers on the uncovered part of her back, shivers going up and down her skin just because of the action.

“You know, I never actually told you...” Yixing breathes out as he pulls their bodies flush together, her chest pressing to his at the action. She licks her lipstick-coated lips, eyelashes covered in mascara to lengthen them and blink up at him. “But you’re beautiful, gorgeous, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Sure.” She replied with a smile on her face. There is sarcasm in her voice and then, she pats his chest with one hand. “Thank you, though, I appreciate you saying that.”

“I’m honest.” Yixing does not raise his voice, he looks at her with sincerity in his eyes after he says that and his hands trail down to her waist, cupping it with ease. “And I’ve always thought you’re gorgeous. From the moment I first saw you beside Junmyeon.”

Her eyes rake up and down his features. “You’re not too bad, yourself.”

“I know I’m great.” Yixing points out and she chuckles, leaning forward to press her cheek to his shoulder and dance with him. The song was slow and melodic, the deep bass of the voice of the male singing making the atmosphere tranquil, as if they were the only people in the dance floor. “By the way, thank you for giving me lessons.”

“You’re welcome.” She replies, pulling away to look into his eyes before her words got caught in her throat. He was gorgeous, sleeked back hair and that plush bottom lip that always asked for a kiss—

“..And really, I am sure that you could be a professional...” is what she hears from what Yixing was saying, though she spaces out again before she took him by the back of his neck. The touch makes the man stop on his rambling and he looks down at her, raising an eyebrow to see the clouded expression in her irises. “You weren’t listening?”

“Not a word.”

Yixing chuckles, pressing his thumb and index finger to her chin before gripping it softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. The way his lips tasted was like rum and a bit of sugar, leaving her to want to taste more of him, her lips parted to grant him access and like a gentleman, he holds her like a flower that had bloomed within his touch. Little did she know that Yixing was not only practicing golf, he was also practicing the way to let her know that he has been interested in her far before he even asked her for lessons.

Zhang Yixing is just that intelligent.

[irish-nlessing]

Ahhh those Drabbles look great! Are you doing them as well? If you are , I request 53 "I can't believe you talked me into this" im not sure what would be cuter Niall pouting and grumpy about something (like your icon) or Niall super excited about something and you have to be grumpy . (Though let's be real, he radiates happiness, sunshine and good thoughts. That shit is contagious.)

Anonymous said:number 3 for the prompt thing!

Anonymous said:Prompt 3! “Don’t fucking touch me”

I ended up combining these two - enjoy!!!!!!

Hot Yoga

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

Niall sank down another inch into the passenger seat of your car and let out an annoyed huff.  You’d caught him in an extremely weak moment last night and gotten him to agree to join you at your favorite Bikram Yoga studio.  He must’ve missed the part where you mentioned class was at 7am.  You couldn’t really blame him for being distracted - your hands had been shoved down the front of his joggers while you traced the freckles along his neck with the tip of your tongue.  

“Niall.  You’re pouting.  Relax, it’ll be fun and it’s good for you.  Might actually do you some good to sweat out the last four nights of pints with the band.”

He shot forward in his seat, twisting to face you.  “We’re building a rapport! Can’t go touring if I don’t even like the guys in me band!”  Niall’s voice keened with offense.  You just snickered softly to yourself at his outburst and patted him softly on his knee.  You tucked your lip into your teeth trying desperately to suppress the giggle in your throat.  He glared at you from the corner of his clear blue eyes and curled his lip into a sneer.  “Don’t fucking touch me.”  You snatched your hand back to grip the wheel and raised your eyebrow at the petulant man child seated next to you.  “Ok Horan.  I’ll remember that later.”  Mornings had never been Niall’s strong suit and today was proving to be just more of the same.  As you trained your eyes back on the road you caught Niall’s lips pulled down into a frown, probably realizing he’d just cock-blocked himself.

You pulled up to the small studio and clambered out of the driver seat, eager to feel the burn and stretch in your limbs.  Niall reluctantly followed suit,  and shoved his hands into the pockets of his golf jacket.  He stood off to the side and was toeing at a crack in the sidewalk while you grabbed your bags and mats from the back of your small SUV.  You thrust your extra yoga mat towards him, trying to get him to take it.  “You ready?”  He grabbed the mat from your hand and shoved it under his arm.  With a resigned sigh he motioned for you to lead the way.  “Ready as I’ll ever be.  Let’s get this over with.”

Making your way towards the back room, you nodded a greeting to a few of the other patrons you recognized from previous classes.  Coming during the middle of the week, so early in the morning, guaranteed there would only be a few other people in the class.  You figured this would be the best option for Niall - if pictures ended up online of him sweating his ass off while doing yoga poses he’d never let you forget it.  You pushed open the door and felt the hot, humid air choke your lungs.  It always took a few minutes to acclimate to the insane heat in this class so you were quick to drop your bag to start shedding layers.  You were down to your tiny yoga shorts and had just started to peel off your tee when Niall grabbed your wrist.  

“What’re you doing? You can’t take your top off!”  His eyes were a mix of panic and protectiveness, shifting around to see if anyone was an eyeful.  

“Babe, it’s gonna be like 100 degrees in here.  I always do it in my shorts and sports bra.  You should take your shirt off too.  Don’t want you passing out.”  You shrugged out of your top and grabbed your mat to get situated near the windows on the side of the room.  When you peeked behind your shoulder Niall had his face set in a grimace but had at least listened to your advice and stripped his shirt off.  You couldn’t stop yourself from staring as he loped across the room to settle himself in the space next to you.  The heat had already made a light sheen of sweat break out across his chest and shoulders.  As he laid out his mat you watched the lean muscles in his back twitch and shift under the pale expanse of skin.  You could feel your own heartbeat start to speed up in your chest as he lowered himself down onto his stomach.  His arms stretched out above his head, making divots appear in the top of his shoulders where the muscles criss-crossed from his arms.  Before you could think about it you were pressing the pad of your finger into the small dip in his flesh and trailing your hand down his back.  He startled at the touch and popped his head up to look at you.  

“What was that for?”  His voice was raspy and muffled behind his still-outstretched arm.

A hot flush spread across your cheeks at being caught ogling him.  You pulled your hand back and shook your head.  “Nothing, sorry.  Just couldn’t help it.”  You tried to ignore the smirk that tugged the one corner of his mouth up.  Thankfully, the instructor walked in and started the first movements.

A half hour into the session you were dripping with sweat and concentrating on your breathing.  Your legs were on fire, but you felt strong.  The burn and stretch in your muscles was cathartic for your body, but also for your mind.  Hot yoga had always forced you out of your own head.  There were so many things to concentrate on that if you got distracted, you were liable to pass out.  You’d seen it happen before.  A newbie would come in and underestimate the brutal heat of the small room.  Inevitably they’d topple over, with the instructor grabbing a fan and an ice pack to bring them to.  You arched your back and twisted, glancing back to check on Niall.  His gaze was stuck on your body, your long legs curled underneath your body.  He was sort of in the same pose, but just not quite as open with his torso.  He was hunched over a bit, almost as though he was nursing a side cramp from running too long.  

“Ni…you ok?”

“M’fine.  Just turn around.”

“What?  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just….don’t worry.”

“Is it your knee?  Do you need to swit-”

“No!”

His voice was low and hissed out at you, while his face was pulled into a dark grimace.  You scooted closer to him to whisper in his ear.  You didn’t want to disturb the rest of the class.

“Hey, if your knee is acting up just get into a position that’s comfortable.”

“It’s not m’fuckin’ knee.  Just leave it.”

He knelt down and spread his arms above his head, pushing back into child’s pose.  You knew this was his favorite because it was the only thing that would relieve the dull back ache he would sometimes get after hauling his guitar around for hours on stage.  You crouched down to badger him a bit more, genuinely concerned that he would push it too far and hurt himself.

“Seriously, if it’s your knee you shouldn’t do child’s pose Ni.  It’ll make it -”

“For Christ sake woman would ya shut up?  Been staring at your arse and tits for a half hour and you’re giving me a fucking hard on, ok?!”  

Your jaw dropped at his whispered confession.  You immediately darted your eyes around to see if anyone else had heard him.  Fortunately everyone else seemed to be fully engrossed in the next pose.  You swallowed harshly, trying to tamp down the buzzing in your body.  The knowledge that your poor boyfriend was trying valiantly to hide an erection that he got from watching you set your senses on edge.  You were flattered, turned on, and very flustered.  In a split second you grabbed your mat and stood up, pulling Niall off the floor with you.  You grabbed his wrist and draped your mat over your arm to hide his current “problem”.  He staggered out of the room behind you and barely managed to grab your bags as the door swung shut.  The cool air of the hallway hit you both like a bucket of ice.  Goosebumps cropped up across your skin and you could see the red patches of skin prickle under the thatch of dark hair matted down across Niall’s chest.

“What the fuck’re you doing?  Why’d you yank me outta there?  If you’d just left it alone for a minute I woulda been fine.”

You turned in a circle, looking desperately for something that would work for what you needed.  Grabbing Niall’s arm you pulled him desperately towards a small door at the end of the hallway, labeled “Laundry”.  With a silent prayer you tried the doorknob and let out a small squeal of victory when the door swung open.  Niall stumbled in behind you, bumping into the sticky skin of your back.  You could feel his hard length press into your lower back, his thin shorts not doing much to hide his arousal.  The feeling of him pressed into your flesh made you moan and as the sound left your mouth, Niall finally caught onto what you had in mind.

“You dirty little girl!  I got you all riled up, didn’t I?”  His warm breath tickled your ear and he pressed his fingers into your hips, pulling you back into his clothed cock.  There was an unmistakeable cockiness to his voice, a lilt that let you know he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.  You spun around to face him, backing up to the low counter against the wall that was used for folding towels.  Grabbing at the waist of his shorts you pulled him in between your legs and hooked them around his waist.  

“I got you riled up first, Niall.  Said so yourself.”  You pulled him into your covered center, relishing the friction of his body rubbing against the thing material between your legs.  He braced himself with his hands on the counter and leaned down so you were eye to eye.  

“You’re right, ya did.  Didn’t realize I’d have to watch you bend and stretch and arch your back in nothing more than your knickers.  Been hard nearly the whole class.  S’almost kinda painful if I’m honest.”  He thrust his hips forward and let out a low hiss as he pressed into your body.  Your breath was coming in shallow pants, matching the adrenaline flowing through your veins.  Wiggling your legs, you managed to dislodge his shorts and push them down his hips and under the swell of his round bum.  His cock sprang free, the tip almost purple with want and leaking strings of precum as it bobbed forward.  You licked your palm and wrapped your thin fingers around the tip, pumping slowly and spreading some of the wetness down his shaft.  “Fuckkkkkkk that feels so good.”  His voice was low and breathy, and he had to bite down on his lip to keep from moaning too loudly.  As your hand swept back up his length you dipped your thumb into the slit at the top of his cock making him jerk forward into his hand.  “I’m so hard for you, please make me come.”  His eyes met yours, the deep blue in his iris’ was pleading for release, desperate to find some relief.  

You leaned forward and tipped your head up to nip at his pink lips.  They looked incredibly soft compared to the rough stubble that had been lining his jaw so often these past months.  You slotted your lips over his and licked into his mouth frantically trying to taste him, smell him, feel him.  You were desperate for him to invade all of your senses at once - to not know where your body ended and his began.  You withdrew your hand reluctantly from his length and hooked your fingers into your own yoga shorts.  “I need you to get in me.  Hurry ok? Just fuck me.”  You kicked your shorts to the side and looped your legs back around his waist.  His lips crashed down onto yours and he trailed his fingers through your slick lips, pushing his fingers deep into your core.  Your back arched, pushing your chest into his.  He pumped his fingers slowly while his mouth forged a wet trail down your neck and into the hollows of your collar bone.  

“You taste salty.  But still kinda sweet.  Like those salted caramels you make me get from the coffee shop.”  His teeth nipped across your skin and he pressed his thumb into your aching clit, rubbing across it gently.  You let out a whine, already feeling your walls starting to flutter around his fingers.  

“Shit - you’re so fucking hot Niall.  C’mon, I need you inside me.  I need it!”  You were practically begging for him, and he was never one to make you wait.  He pulled his fingers out of your body and sucked them into his mouth.  With a smirk he reached down and lined himself up with your entrance.  As he sank into you his eyes rolled back slightly and his jaw hung open.  You could only grasp desperately at his shoulders and tuck your forehead into his chest.  As your walls stretched around his pulsing length you could hear him muttering under his breath.

“Love you.  Fuck, love you so much.  Feels so good.  Love you.”

You pressed hot, wet kisses across his chest as he pulled his hips back and began thrusting into you.  You both had an arm braced against the counter, with the other wrapped around each other’s bodies - anchoring you to each other.  The hot coil of release was burning at the base of your spine and you could feel your toes starting to curl on their own accord.  You leaned back on both of your hands to gain some leverage and meet his thrusts.  Niall was staring down at where your bodies met, mesmerized at how he disappeared inside of you, only to pull back out slick with your wetness.  As his hips snapped unsteadily against you, you slid your fingers down to your throbbing bundle.  Just as you were starting to rub circles against it, Niall swatted your hand away and replaced it with his own calloused fingers.  He gripped onto your hip with one hand and carefully rolled your aching clit between his fingertips.  Over and over he coaxed your body to give him more.  More wetness, more noises, more more more.  In an instant you tipped over the edge, your body going rigid as your breath caught in your chest and your eyes squeezed shut.  A low, guttural noise started to roll from your chest but Niall leaned in and swallowed the moan into a kiss.  His hips stalled against you as he emptied himself inside you.  As you broke apart you both gasped for breath, your foreheads sticking together with sweat.

Silently he pulled out of you, gasping at the over sensitive feeling.  You grabbed some towels and cleaned up still not saying a word.  The only thing you could hear was the low thrum of the industrial washer and dryer and the soft meditation music being pumped through the speakers.  You got dressed and sorted out your mats and bags, still not saying a word to each other.  You checked the hallway, letting out a sigh of relief that the class had not yet ended and the rest of the studio was deserted.  Niall followed you back out to the bustling street, where morning commuters were still clogging up the sidewalks on their way to work.   You tossed the bags haphazardly into the back seat and slid into the driver’s seat of your car.  Niall was chewing thoughtfully on the side of his thumb and nodding slowly to himself.  You took a deep breath and dared to break the silence.

“Sooooooo…….that wasn’t usually how my yoga classes go.”  Niall didn’t seem to hear you, there was no acknowledgement or even a flutter of recognition that you’d been speaking.

“Niall.  Ni.  NIALL!”

“What?”  He finally dropped his thumb from his still-kiss swollen lips and looked at you.  His eyes were wide like a frightened animal and you could tell his head was somewhere else entirely.

“Are…are you ok?”  You were almost afraid to hear the answer.  You weren’t sure if Niall was going to cry or if he even knew who he was at this point.

He nodded slowly, seeming to choose his words carefully.  “I think…I think I need to call some people.”  You raised your eyebrows at him, an inkling of concern starting to take hold in your stomach.  “I need to find a contractor.”

You pulled your face in, confusion sweeping through your body.  “A contractor?  What the hell do you need a contractor for?”

His eyes focused on yours, and you finally saw a glint of mischief behind them.

“Cause I’m building a yoga studio in the house.  Immediately.”

You choked out a laugh and leaned over the center console.  Grabbing him by the thin cotton of his shirt you pulled him in and smacked a wet kiss to his lips.  He smiled against your mouth and growled playfully at you.  “You’re a nutter, you know that Niall Horan?”

He pecked another kiss to your lips and leaned back into his seat.  “Nah, just a man who knows what he likes.”