Derek Goffard

Derek always hated his family. Matthew was no exception, in fact- He is the one he hates the most... After his father. But only by a little, minuscule difference. Yes, Derek could be many things: lazy, fake blonde, rude, violent, and a long etc.. But he was unapologetically himself! Unlike a certain someone. If Derek was a storm, Matthew was a calm, curated lake. The "Golden Boy." The "Goody Two Shoes." To Derek, Matthew was a two faced, parasitic twat whose every virtue was likely bought and paid for by their father’s massive, hush money filled bank account. The "rivalry" was a festering wound in the Goffard lineage, and Derek’s favorite pastime was rubbing salt into it. His favorite method of torment was simple: he took what belonged to Matthew. Some were idiot golddiggers who thought they'd "upgrade" from just one of the brothers to the heir, some were more difficult, but everyone gave in the end. And it all gave Derek a massive ego boost. Then came you. When Matthew first introduced you, Derek had felt a familiar, predatory thrill. New prey. New way to hurt the Golden Boy. But the months passed, and the thrill turned into a resentment. By the six month mark, he was annoyed. By the one year anniversary, it had become a personal vendetta. He’d tried the "charming frat boy" routine, and when that failed, he’d descended into petty malice, spreading digital rumors of your infidelity hoping it'd work. The result? You blocked him in all of your social media. Even his IP! The audacity! It's not like he liked you or anything! No, Derek was just pissed. You were playing with his ego, you were a toy that didn't want to be played by him. You were denying him the one thing he felt entitled to: satisfaction. No one denied Derek Goffard the right to get laid, specially not a person he was sure would end up breaking up with Matthew anyway (long lasting marriages? In the Goffard household? What was this, a Disney movie?) And so, he waited. Waited until there was an event he'd be sure you'd be present... And the pool party hosted by his dear little brother and dad was the perfect stage. The air was thick with the scent of chlorine, expensive sunblock, and the voices of high society pretending to care about whatever it is rich people talked about. He’d waited, his facial muscles hurting from fake smiles and nibbling at a nearby buffer until the moment finally presented itself: His dad and Matthew being swayed away by the guests surrounding them, leaving you all alone at the bar near the pool.

"Hey..."

Derek watched your expression sour instantly, a flicker of barely disimulated disdain crossing your features that made him want to snort with laughter. He suppressed it, smoothing his features into a mask of "harmless" charm. He had to be the 'nice guy' tonight!

"I know, I know. I’ve been an idiot to you," Derek said. sliding onto the stool beside you with a practiced, casual grace. He raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. "And you can sit somewhere else if you want. But I just want to talk."

He leaned in just a fraction too close, his voice sounding... almost sincere, if it wasn't for the predatory look in his eyes that he couldn't quite hide. "You and Matthew are really going serious, huh? I can tell he really likes you."

God, he sounded corny. If this didn't work... He'd look stupid forever. he thought, cringing internally. But you didn't leave. Why? Perhaps out of fake kindness, or perhaps because you were too tired to fight the Goffard heir tonight. Whatever the reason was, he took advantage of every second. And so, for forty minutes, he played the part of Saint Derek with the power of small talk. He sipped his non alcoholic drink, his eyes constantly tracking your movements, waiting for the moment your guard dropped, for the moment you stopped seeing him as a threat and started seeing him as just... The brother of your boyfriend. And right when his mind started getting tired of this all... Finally, he saw it. A softening of your shoulders. Your jaw slightly relaxing.

"I guess that after putting up with me, you must be thirsty, right?" he offered, his smile widening, bright and predatory. "Let me get you something."

He called out to wards the bartender and watched as the drink was poured. Something light, something "elegant" looking enough to be harmless. And as the bartender turned to grab a garnish, Derek’s hand moved with the skill of someone who obviously did this a thousand times. With a small movement of his wrist, a tasteless powder fell from a small packet into your glass, disappearing instantly into the liquid as it dissolved and slid the drink toward you, his eyes gleaming with a dark, triumphant hunger.

Wow.

Wooooow.

If you hated Derek that much, you could've just told him. Then again, you probably had... And he simply didn't care. After months of rejecting every advance he made, after acting like you were too good for him... maybe this was the final nail in the coffin. During the anniversary party for one of his father's many companies, Derek was there for exactly one reason: to be passed around like a prized possession, the routine as usual: Smile, shake hands, pretend to care about whatever old businessman he was being introduced to. Oh- And, of course, to be everyone's errand boy. "Derek, go ask for more drinks." "Derek, take a picture of us." ... That sort of thing. The irony was that this party was supposed to be centered around him. He was the heir, after all. The future face of the Goffards. Hopefully, it'd get some media attention too... ... Until Matthew decided to stand up and "say a few words." At first, Derek assumed it was another one of his father's staged performances. God knew how many speeches he'd been forced to give. Those were carefully written (not by him, of course), sent, and approved by his father weeks in advance. And God knew how many times his father had smacked the back of his head afterward, treating him like he was still a five year old crybaby. But then... Matthew's speech shifted. It went from ass-kissing his father's "long-term success as a businessman" to talking "about the person who became his rock". And then he started walking toward your table. Derek's already strained smile immediately faltered, and he fought every muscle in his face to stop himself from looking like someone had just dumped a bucket of piss over his head. His eyes were witness: Matthew dropped to one knee, people cheered, you let out a high-pitched 'Oh my god, yes!' And to make things worse, Matthew played the role of the happy groom perfectly and even came over to hug Derek afterward. Derek had never wanted to punch someone so badly in his life- Oh, wait. His dad. For days afterward, Derek seethed. Every media outlet was covering the engagement. Every reel in his fyp was another interview with Matthew talking about "how much his dear brother helped with the proposal." Every "tea" account Derek secretly followed wouldn't shut up about it... Even the manosphere accounts he usually escaped to were busy talking about Matthew's damn jawline. Derek kept telling himself the attention would fade and once this farce was over, attention would be back on him again. But time moved painfully slowly: Slowly enough for the engagement party to arrive. Slowly enough for his father to pull him aside beforehand and warn him not to screw this up. And, most importantly, to stick to Matthew's fake little proposal story.* Naturally, Derek planned to stay composed. He planned not to drink too much... And instead, he ended up drunk. Not blackout drunk. Not stumbling-over-himself drunk. Just drunk enough. And once the party finally ended, you were, of course, staying the night in his house. Well. Matthew's room, but that distinction didn't make him feel any better. After throwing up behind one of the garden bushes (he wouldn't clean it, so why would he care?) he made his way through the mansion's long hallways and eventually spotted you alone in one of the bathrooms. The rational part of his brain told him to keep walking... It was nothing against the louder part that demanded him to go inside. And overall, Derek had always been good at listening to the louder voice. CLAP. CLAP. CLAP. As you turned around, you found Derek standing in the doorway, applauding and laughing. "Ha. Ha. HA.*" In his mind, he probably looked intimidating and edgy. And in your eyes currently in reality... He looked like a man who'd had far too much vodka. After an awkward one-minute-long round of applause, he shoved his hands into his pockets and smirked.

"So. You did it." He let out a snort. "You finally made it, huh? You're this close now."

He held two fingers inches apart.

"Marrying into the Goffard family. Getting the name. The status."

Another forced laugh.

"HA-UGH."

His throat burned, and he cut himself to swallow hard in order to keep going. Once he spoke again, his tone was patronizing.

"Let me tell you something, sweetheart." His head tilted to the side. "Do you seriously think this little fairytale of yours is going to last? You think you're gonna stay married to Matthew long enough to have a couple of kids and spend every summer on some miserable family vacation in the Maldives?" ... Silence. It made Derek scoff.

"If you do, you're even stupider than I thought."

He stepped closer, one hand gripping the edge of the basin. "Have you ever wondered why Matthew never talks about his mother?" He gestured vaguely through the air. "Or why you never see my father's girlfriends more than once or twice before he replaces them with a new one?" His expression twisted. "Come on. Think."

As the silence lasted longer than he liked, his fist slammed against the basin.

"Do I really have to spell it out for you? Do I really have to explain how my father treats his bitches?"

For a moment, his eyes widened. Jaw clenched. Brows furrowed. He looked like he might snap. But... Then, just as quickly, the anger slipped away, his eyes narrowed, and a smirk returned to his lips. "Or..." He tilted his head. "Do you actually think you're the exception?"

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