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nuggets-and-french-fries · 3 years

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Taking Chances: Chapter Twenty Two.

Note: This chapter most likely sucks because I’ve been working on it all day and have probably missed a lot of grammatical errors and it maybe a tad dragged out.

I do hope that you like this but yeah, sorry if it sucks.

Enjoy!

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Waking up the next morning with the sheets sitting sinfully low on his waist, Taron slowly sat up and looked around his room. Clothes were strewn around in various places and when he turned to look at the woman next to him, she was on full display. Taron groaned as his eyes caught the time on the alarm clock as well. He knew that his mother was bringing Mikey home early as she was taking his sisters out for the day. Taron carefully got out of bed and went on a search for his boxers. He managed to find them on top of his cupboard.

“Good morning handsome.” Natascha mumbled, stretching. To keep the peace, Taron walked over to her and kissed her. He really wished that it was Nicola in his bed again but he knew his chances with her had fizzled.

“Mam’s dropping Mikey off soon.” Taron said, unknowingly making Natascha’s blood boil.

“But I need you.” She pouted, running her fingers down his still bare chest. Taron stopped her.

“You should get dressed.” He said, hoping that she’d get the message. She didn’t. Natascha smirked and ran her hand down his chest again, this time stopping at Taron’s lap. He jumped up and moved from the bed.

“Enough. Seriously, get dressed. Now.” He said, grabbing his shirt and hurrying downstairs to put some well needed distance between him and the woman laying stark naked in his bed.

Natascha was beyond pissed off now. If Taron thought that this was the end of their little hiccup, he was sorely mistaken. If anything, she was going to up the ante.

Taron was sitting at the kitchen counter drinking his coffee when Mikey knocked on the door. The father knew it was his son because he could hear Mikey talking. He chuckled to himself and greeted his mother and his son. They talked for a few minutes before Mikey begged Taron to watch his little cartoons.

“Now that he’s settled, do you want to tell me what’s really going on?” Tina asked as she took a sip of her coffee. Taron -who was buttering a piece of toast for Mikey- put the knife down and hung his head.

“I feel stuck.” Taron admitted. Tina nodded. She could tell that he was unhappy the moment she met Natascha. It was obvious as the nose on your face that Taron was still so in love with the woman carrying his baby.

“Why are you with her?” Tina asked, point blank. Taron shrugged.

“I just want someone for Mikey. He’s getting older and needs a mother.” He answered. Tina had to stifle a scoff.

“Taron, it’s good that you want to put him first but I think in this case, you are making a terrible mistake. Natascha doesn’t match either of you.” Tina explained.

“I need a break.” Taron said, ignoring what his mother had just told him.

“Why don’t you and Mikey come to the park with us today.” Tina suggested. Taron gave her a small smile but shook his head.

“Nicola will be there.” She teased. At the mention of her name. Taron’s heart skipped a beat and the flutters erupted in his body. Tina chuckled at the slight flush on his cheeks.

“Honestly, I would love to see her.” Taron said with an almost relieved tone.

The adults talked some more before Tina left to go home and get Rosie and Mari ready for the park. Taron had offered to make a picnic lunch for all of them and Tina gratefully accepted.

Taron got to work on getting things ready for the outing he, Mikey and Natascha would be embarking on. He could only pray that Natascha would show her true colours and Tina would be able to see why he was so stuck.

It may have taken a while but when she was ready to show her awful face, Natascha put on the skimpiest lingerie she could find and a see through robe. She felt like she was on top of the world and it was time to show Taron who was boss.

Natascha walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. Taron had his back to the door as he was getting food ready. She walked up to him and kissed the crook of his neck. Taron shrugged her off and continued on with his task. Natascha scoffed and walked to where Mikey was now watching the Minions movie that happened to be playing on tv. She stood there for a few seconds before sitting on the sofa, picking up the remote so that she could change the channel.

“Daddy, where did it go?” Mikey called, not realizing that Natascha had been the cause of his missing movie. Natascha rolled her eyes.

“Where did what go?” Taron asked as he walked to where his son was.

“Movie.” Mikey replied sadly. Taron stopped in his tracks when he saw his girlfriend sitting on the sofa holding the remote and wearing the most inappropriate lingerie, with a see through robe on top. At this point, words were failing him. Taron locked eyes with the woman and held his hand out for the remote. She handed it to him and watched as he fixed the tv for his son.

(This is the lingerie Natascha is wearing)

Taron then turned and went out of earshot of Mikey. Natascha of course followed.

“I told you to get dressed.” Taron said lowly. Natascha smirked.

“I am dressed.” She answered sassily.

“I’m not going to tell you again.” He warned, his eyes darkening just slightly. Natascha leaned forward and kissed him before taking her leave to get dressed for the day.

When she was done, she went back to join Taron and Mikey downstairs. Of course by this point, Mikey’s movie had finished and Taron had gotten himself and Mikey ready to go.

(Caption explains what this picture is.)

“Good morning.” Natascha greeted Mikey flakily. He immediately held his cheeks and hid his face in Taron’s legs. There was no way he was talking to her.

“Car is packed, let’s go get your shoes on.” Taron said, picking Mikey up.

“Where are we going?” Natascha asked, her tone hinting at her disapproval.

“We’re seeing grandma.” Mikey snarked, earning himself a look from his father.

“Do we have to? We just saw her.” Natascha complained. Taron frowned.

“Yes we do.” Taron answered.

The drive to the castle grounds was a nightmare for Taron because Natascha kept attempting to rub his crotch. Not only that but she kept changing the music in the car and that made Mikey cranky. He couldn’t wait to see his mum and Nicola for some proper adult company.

“Natascha, it’s nice to see you again.” Tina said, taking note of what the Croatian was wearing. An extremely short spaghetti strap dress. Highly inappropriate for small eyes. Natascha gave her a fake smile and sat down to bury her face in her phone.

(This is the dress and shoes that Natascha is wearing)

“Hi Lina.” Mikey said, wrapping his arms around her legs in a hug. Nicola chuckled and ruffled his hair.

“Hello Mikey. How are you?” She asked.

“Good.” He answered with a smile that mirrored his father. She could only hope that the baby would inherit Taron’s gorgeous smile as she hated her own.

“I’m glad.” She said. Mikey then ran off to play with Jasmine and his aunties on the play equipment.

“It’s good to see you Nicola.” taron said, feeling completely at ease seeing her.

“You too.” She replied, following Mikey.

Taron decided that he wanted to go with them so he followed her and sat with her on the bench in a surprising comfortable silence as they watched the children laugh, chase each other and play together. It warmed their hearts and made them realize that maybe they had been stupid to end things.

“Nice earring.” Nicola said, watching as Mikey went down a slide.

“Thanks.” Taron replied. Nicola gave him a sideways glance. He did look good, she had to admit that.

“You look happy.” Nicola told him but Taron leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. That pose right there, told her everything she needed to know. Natascha really was vile.

They talked for a little longer before Nicola’s stomach growled.

“Lunch time.” Taron announced. The kids got excited and ran ahead of them. Taron wanted so badly to hold Nicola’s hand but he refrained for fear that she would slap him. They made it to the table a couple seconds later and joined the others in eating.

“Fanks daddy.” Mikey said, hugging Taron for making lunch. Natascha thought she was going to get a hug as well and both Tina and Nicola had to stifle a laugh when Mikey climbed into Taron’s lap after ending the hug. Natascha glared daggers at the women.

“You look sick.” Jasmine stated, seeing the look Natascha was giving her sister.

“I’m fine.” She snapped. Taron looked at his girlfriend in warning. The one thing that he hated more than anything was people treating his family like dirt.

“I think we should go golfing.” Tina said, breaking up the tension.

“Can I be on Mikey’s team?” Jasmine asked, making Tina chuckle.

“Absolutely.” Tina said, humoring the little girl. After they were done eating, they packed up and made their way to the putt putt area.

Everyone was having a great time except for Malibu Barbie who denied wanting to golf because she was afraid that she'd break a nail and didn’t want to play a nerds game.

“Fine, you watch and we’ll play.” Nicola sassed. Natascha scoffed and stood off to the side with a sour look on her face.

Taron had tried and failed a couple times at getting the golf ball through the mini windmill. Nicola laughed so hard at his efforts and the faces that accompanied them.

“You’re not very good daddy.” Mikey stated a matter-of-factly.

Natascha heard this and decided that she would show off a little bit.

“Let me show you how this is done.” Natscha spoke up, making sure to stick her ass out. Tina rolled her eyes, Taron sighed, Nicola wanted to gag and the kids were thankfully oblivious as they poked at various stones with their golf clubs.

“See baby, just like that.” Natascha said, rubbing his arm. Nicola decided that she wanted a shot at this. She lined up and whacked the shit out of the ball, sending it flying in Natascha’s direction. The woman lept as best she could in her strappy heels. Taron tried so hard not to laugh at how ridiculous Natascha looked.

“Nobody move.” Nicola instructed, making Taron and Tina stop as they watched Nicola search the ground and then look at Natascha’s fingers. She then looked back up with a devious smirk on her face. She brought her hands together and clapped dramatically.

“No broken nails, I’m impressed.” Nicola said. Natascha’s blood boiled. Nicola locked eyes with the woman and gave her the best sassy smile she could muster. Natascha knew that Nicola did that as a warning. Before she could respond, her phone rang. She rushed off to answer it.

“I shouldn’t encourage that but that was the best thing I have ever seen. You go girl.” Tina whispered. She held her hand up and hi-fived Nicola. Taron saw this and smirked.

“Why don’t you try again while she’s gone.” Nicola suggested, having a feeling that the other woman made Taron nervous. Taron nodded, lined up and gently hit the ball and jumped excitedly when it finally rolled into the hole in the ground. He ecstatically hugged Nicola, taking her by surprise.

Natascha saw this and when Taron had slightly moved from her, she stormed toward them. She roughly nudged Nicola to the side and grotesquely shoved her tongue in Taron's mouth in a territorial kiss. Taron stood there frozen in place. His arms remained by his side and his eyes stayed open, wanting the kiss to end.

Tina had her hands steadying Nicola. It was at that moment Nicola knew that Tina was on to her. She knew that Tina knew she was indeed pregnant.

“Grandma, I need a wee.” Mikey announced. Taron took that as his chance to shove Natascha off of him and rush his son to the toilets. Natascha turned to look at the rest of the women.

“You can back off now.” She warned, walking off to find Taron.

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Tag List: @sarahegerton96 @dangerouslcve @jobanan23 @lovefortaron89 @jolovesfandoms @aberystwythboy @superthiccthighssavelives @hauntedflamingo @stronglyobsessed @cilldaracailin @hitmeonmytspot @dragonstarre @fuseburner @rocknrollmadden @dogmom2014

#taronegerton #dad!taron #Single Father #its just pickles #taking chances #taronegertonimagines

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rawmeanderson · 4 years

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bring you back to me ― part ix

ft. jeff skinner plot: when your high school sweetheart gets traded to the same city where you now live and work, your best friend just can’t mind her own business ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ warnings. swearing, drinking/drunkenness, all sorts of nsfw stuff 👏🏻 word count: 7.4k notes at the end! also, a maaaaasive shoutouts go to @ferraromarios, @drunkduncs, and @capobiancos for being such good, supportive friends 💖 visit my masterlist (there’s a link in the description!) to sign up for email alerts or to view the master document with all parts of the fic for easy binge reading!!

“God fucking dammit,” Lydia mutters after someone a few tables over called bingo, earning a dirty look from the older lady at the table ahead of you. You snort softly, reaching for your mimosa as Lydia continues to mutter under her breath.

“I don’t know why we keep coming here, you always end up so angry,” you tease, grinning as she rips of the top sheet of her cards.

“It’s boozy bingo, y/n, it’s worth the anger,” she says, looking at you like you should know that. Your only response is to finish off the rest of your drink, putting the empty glass down next to your cards to pick up your dauber.

Saturday afternoon boozy bingo was a staple for you and Lydia, but it was the first time you’d been back in a while. The brunch was good, but you mostly showed up for $1 mimosas and bloody marys, while Lydia was there for the bingo. She got wildly competitive during the game, and her trash talking had almost gotten you thrown out on a couple occasions. Honestly, the entertainment watching Lydia’s frustration build and build as the games went on made it all worth it.

Peter was with you today, since he was in town for a few more days. Since it was between games, he went up to the bar to grab drinks, including another mimosa for you.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while,” you tell her, nudging her under the table as you pout at her. A quiet chatter had started between games, and you were glad to have a minute alone with your best friend.

“Yeah, I know,” she responds, sighing as she pushes her hair out of her face. “Since my sister’s been out of town a lot for work, I’ve been having to take Mom to her appointments and stuff, and I’ve just been absolutely drained from it.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you get a double dose of me today, right?” you ask, winking when she looks at you and you both laugh. The two of you were going to the game that night to see the Sabres play the Sharks.

Peter returns a second later, putting two mimosas down in front of you and you shoot him a thumbs up.

“Good call, bud,” you tell him, already reaching for one.

“I figured you might need the extra to help drown out this one,” he responds, pointing at Lydia with a grin. Lydia gave him the finger as he puts a bloody mary down in front of her. “Watch it, or I’ll spit in the next one.” You grimace at his warning even though it wasn’t directed to you, and you straightening up in your seat as the next game starts.

Between numbers, you sip at your drink and glance at your phone, figuring that Jeff is probably taking his pre-game nap by now. Tipsy already, the thought of climbing into bed with him for a nap is very appealing, but not worth leaving Lydia and Peter.

You had stayed at your own place last night, watching Jeff’s game in Detroit from your couch. Jeff had to be up early for a work out and press stuff before the game, and you’d used your morning to clean up around the house and to catch up on laundry. You’d even dug your suitcase out of your closet, knowing you needed to start packing soon since you and Jeff were leaving for your brother’s wedding in four days.

After bumping into Peter a few nights earlier, the two of you and Lydia had been able to make plans for Saturday afternoon, and here you were. You had pushed your hardest to go putt-putt-ing, but you were out voted in favor of boozy bingo.

Lydia is a number away from winning, nibbling on the end of the celery from her bloody mary as her eyes bounce over her cards. She’s murmuring the number she needs to herself and toying with the ends of her hair with tense shoulders.

“Is she always like this?” he asks when you look at him, voice low and almost concerned. Grinning, you nod, nearly laughing because you hadn’t realized he’d never been to bingo with her before.

“Yeah, she’s nearly got bingo down to an art form if you ask me,” you respond, sipping at your drink.

“I can hear you,” Lydia says with a grin, not even looking up from her cards.

In the end, none of you won anything, but you had more than your fair share of mimosas.You and Lydia had each been planning to rideshare home, but thankfully, Peter offered to play taxi driver since he hadn’t been drinking. Lydia was worse off than you and pissed that she hadn’t won anything, making her a damn near lethal combination.

“I swear, those old bitches cheat somehow,” she mutters as you approach Peter’s rental car. You laugh, nodding to appease her as she climbs in the backseat. You take shotgun, and Peter grins at you as he starts up the car.

“It’s like I never left, right?” he asks and you nod as Lydia continues to rant from the backseat. It was true though. Peter, never much of a drinker, had often played DD for you and Lydia in the time you’d known each other, and having him there again felt like nothing had changed.

Lydia’s place was closer, so she was dropped off first. As she steps out of the car, you roll your window down, reminding her to set an alarm so she wouldn’t oversleep and miss dinner and the game later. She thanks you, calling you ‘mom’ teasingly. Considering you’re drunk, it’s extra funny and sends you into a fit of laughter. Lydia threw a peace sign up before turning to make her way to her building, and you and Peter stay put to make sure she gets to the door without tripping or managing to fall over.

Satisfied that Lydia was safely inside, Peter pulled away from the curb, glancing at you. “You’re gonna have to tell me where to go,” he tells you.

You snort, shaking your head. “Shit, you know I have no sense of direction, so let’s see how this goes,” you joke, sitting up in your seat a little more. “Turn left up here, head toward downtown.”

Peter laughs, turning on his blinker on as he nods. The two of you are quiet for a few moments aside from you giving the occasional direction before starting in with a bit of small talk. You ask about his new office, how he’s adjusting to being in a new city, and he says he’s enjoying it, that he’s happy he made the move even if it did put him far from family.

“Have you found friends to replace Lydia and me yet?” you ask, trying to decide which would be the best route to get to Jeff’s from where you were then.

“Nah, impossible, really,” he admits, glancing at you with a grin.

“Well, shucks,” you tease, laughing as you push your hair back out of your face. Jeff still didn’t seem to be awake since he hadn’t answered any of your messages from earlier, and the thought of climbing into bed with him made you feel warm and soft all over. “Take a right up here, that way’s probably quicker.”

“The fuck do you mean, probably?” Peter questions, making you crack up all over again. “So, correct me if I’m wrong, but Jeff Skinner, the professional hockey player, is your boyfriend, and you didn’t even tell me about it?”

“Yeah,” you respond, trying to look apologetic for not telling him but you just ended up grinning like an idiot at the mere mention of Jeff. “I’can’t believe Lydia didn’t tell you, this is the result of her handiwork.”

Peter’s not even surprised by that. “So, are you going to tell me how all of this happened, or what?”

You snort then, shrugging as you continue to smile. “I’ve known Jeff for as long as I can remember really. He played hockey with my brother when we were little, our families are friends. We dated for a while in high school, then he got drafted and went to North Carolina. Now eight years later, he got traded here and Lydia tricked me into going to a game, and here we are.”

“Shut the fuck up, that’s some rom-com shit, honestly,” he says, glancing at you with a look of teasing disbelief. “He’s a good guy though?”

The question makes you smile. Peter had always been one to look after both you and Lydia, and you’re glad to see that the distance hadn’t changed that. “The best, really. He always has been,” you assure him and he nods. “We’ve probably moved kind of fast, but it’s been so easy, like we just picked up where we left off.”

“Good. You’re happy, I can tell. I’ve never seen you light up like that when you talk about someone,” he tells you, looking over at you quickly before changing lanes.

Feeling your cheeks burn with a flush, you cross the subject. “Enough about me, what about you, huh? Have you been dating at all?” you question, raising an eyebrow as you glance over at him.

Peter laughs, shaking his head immediately. “No, not at all, honestly. I just feel like I haven’t had any time to even try. I’m trying to make friends first, then go from there,” he admits, and you nodding in understanding.

“Yeah, I know what you mean, that was me a couple years ago,” you way with a sympathetic smile. You spot Jeff’s building and quickly point it out to Peter. “It’s that one! Just drop me off where you can, I guess.”

Peter pulls to the curb, and you unfasten your seatbelt before turning to hug him over the center console. He hugs you back tightly, and when you pull away, you’re smiling.

“Have a good trip home tomorrow, and please, let us know when you’re in town next!” you say, making sure you’ve got your phone and keys before opening the door.

“Don’t worry, I will,” he promises as you climb out of the car. He waves as you close the door, and you do the same before heading toward the door.

In your drunken state, it takes a moment for you to figure out which key you need to use, then another to fit it into the lock to get into the lobby. You doubt Jeff is awake yet, but you text him to tell him you’re in the lobby anyway, and you press the up button on the elevator repeatedly in impatience.

You ran into the same delay with your keys outside Jeff’s door, and you nearly trip as you step into his apartment. It’s quiet and you hush yourself softly while toeing off your shows. Knowing you’d left a hamper of clean clothes in the laundry room, you stop there first to change into leggings and one of Jeff’s shirts, fully intent on being lazy and cozy until you had to leave for the game later.

Jeff’s bedroom door is partially open when you approach it a moment later, and you smile to yourself when you see him in bed. He’s shirtless, blankets pulled up to his chest and he’s sprawled out, looking so sweet and relaxed. You cross the room and slip under the sheets with him, the shifting of the bed making him sigh quietly in his sleep. Staying still for a moment, you listen to the even sound of his breathing before leaning over him enough to kiss his chest lightly.

He stirred a little, grumbling as he brought a hand up to run over your hair. Smiling to yourself, you kiss higher, along his neck and he loops an arm around you as you finally kiss his mouth.

“Hi,” you murmur, pulling back to look down at him.

“Hey,” he responds, sounding groggy as he turns his head to yawn. “What time is it?”

“Almost 2,” you say, pressing another kiss to his mouth before shifting to straddle him. He looks up at with a sleepy grin as you drape your body over his. “Did you have a good nap?” Jeff nods, tilting his head up enough to kiss you again. You feel warm all over, absolutely giddy just to be there with him.

“Did you have a good time gambling and day drinking?” he asks and you snort, laughing as you nod back at him. You reposition yourself just slightly, hips pressing down against his in a way that makes electricity shoot up your spine.

“Yeah, it was fun. Lydia drank more than I did, so she was all fired up about losing,” you tell him, moving down his body more and kissing his collarbone.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating in his chest. “Yeah, I’m sure she was,” he responds, bringing a hand up to push your hair back out of your face. He toys with the strands idly as you move lower again, kissing down his chest as you glance up at him. “What are you doing?” A crooked grin settles on his face that you mirror back to him.

“Haven’t decided yet,” you murmur, kissing his stomach as you toy with the waist of his sweatpants. He chuckles softly, nodding and tucking a hand behind his head as he watches you. Looking up at him, you bite your lip while shifting to kneel between his knees.

“We’ve got a couple of hours to figure it out,” he teases, and you grin, humming in agreement as you kiss the line of his hip.

“Don’t think I’ll need that long,” you respond, bringing a hand up to brush your knuckles over the hardening line of his cock. Looking up at him through your lashes, you kiss just above the band of his pants. His abs tense at the light touch of your lips, making you smirk.

When his hand tightens into a fist at his side, you can’t help the soft chuckle that leaves you. Moving lower, your lips ghost over the obvious bludge of his cock and he swears under his breath, hips twitching with the effort to keep still as he watches you.

“Christ, are you trying to make me beg for it?” he asks, and you look up in time to see him practically squirming in place.

You bite your lip again in an attempt to hide the grin that spread across your face, shrugging as you tilt your head to one side. “I haven’t ruled it out,” you say in an attempt to sound coy. Jeff cursed then, letting his head fall back against the pillow, and you laugh quietly, shaking your head. “So impatient.” Your words come as you tsk softly, and he nods in response, exhaling a breath.

Jeff brings a hand up to push your hair out of your face so he can look at you, a tender motion that never fails to make you shiver. You glance up to make eye contact with him before giving in and starting to tugs his sweats down his hips. He lets out a relieved sigh, lifting his hips lazily to help you out, and your mouth follows the path of the fabric, kissing his newly exposed skin.

With his cock free, your hand moves quickly, stroking him slowly from base to tip with a hum. He twitches against your palm, and he twists the sheets in his fist when your head tilts to trace the vein the runs up his shaft with your tongue. Your mouth is practically watering by the time your lips close enough the head of his cock, sucking lightly before pulling off. A sound of frustration leaves him and your grin reappears.

“You ready to beg yet, or should I keep teasing?” you ask, eyebrow raised as you stroke him again slowly. He hisses, hips rocking toward your hand as his brows knit together. His chest is flushed, the color rising higher and he whines your name so quietly that you can barely hear it.

“Fuuuck, y/n. Please, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low. He’s watching you intently, eyes on your hand that’s wrapped around his dick as it continues to move in lazy strokes. You raise an eyebrow and wait for him to continue, loving the way he’s absolutely squirming. “Goddammit, I need your mouth, please.”

Jeff’s getting whinier with each passing second and it’s far too hot to say no to. You stroke him a few more times, loving the sound of him panting for you, cheeks flushed, before closing your lips around the head of his cock again. He makes a sound like the wind’s been knocked out of him, and it does wonders for your ego.

“Holy shit, thank you,” he says, sounding breathless already as you take him deeper in your mouth. His hand leaves his side to come up to your hair, tangling in the strands as he pulls it away from your face. “You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth.” The words leave him so casually that it makes you moan, pulling back enough to soothe your tongue over the slit at the head of his dick.

You start bobbing your head in slow movements, taking him deep enough that your gag reflex is almost triggered. He groans, the sound leaving him slowly as his hips press up toward you. Your clit is throbbing between your thighs then, and you can feel how slick you are when you shift. Bringing a hand up to rest on his thigh, you let your nails drag over his skin lightly as you bob your head, taking your time to let him slip deeper down your throat.

A slew of curses leaves him when you swallow around him, his hand tightening in your hair as his hips twitch toward your mouth again. You can taste pre-cum at the back of your tongue and you groan around him, relaxing your jaw as you take him deep enough that your nose is pressing against his pelvis.

Jeff makes a punched out sound, murmuring that he loves you, and when you glance up at him, he’s still watching you closely. You nearly pull off him, taking a breath and teasing along a vein with the tip of your tongue. He’s tense, practically slack-jawed as he keeps his eyes on you.

You love when he’s like this, putty in your hands (or mouth to be more specific) like you’re the only thing in the world that he’s ever wanted. His flush has moved up his neck and he’s breathing heavily, groaning as you bob your head shallowly. The sounds he makes never fail to make your pussy throb, and when you lean over him more, you can tell that you’ve already soaked through your panties.

“Baby, unless you want me cumming down your throat, you should stop,” he warns before you’ve even let him slip down your throat again.

You pull off, lifting your head to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, I don’t hate the sound of that,” you tease, stroking his cock slowly in the absence of your mouth on him.

He curses softly, head falling back against the pillow while murmuring something about you trying to kill him and you laugh, leaning forward to kiss his stomach once before pulling back.

You get to your feet on shaky legs, grinning at him as you pull your shirt off over your head, unclipping your bra a second later and letting the fabric drop to the floor. Jeff manages to tear his eyes away from you long enough to nudge his sweats off and grab a condom while you slip out of your leggings. You nearly trip as you get your panties and leggings off completely, and you laugh as you catch your balance.

“You okay?” Jeff asks, glancing at you with a wide smile on his face as he rips he condom open.

“Yep, never better,” you respond, smiling as you push your hair out of your face. Returning to the bed, you lean over him, pressing a firm kiss to his mouth. You swing your leg over his hip as he rolls the condom down onto his length, his eyes taking in the sight of your body over his again.

One of Jeff’s hand comes up to rest on your waist, leaning up enough to kiss you again, while the other slips between your legs. A low groan leaves you as his fingers slide through your folds, hips immediately canting down against his hand.

“Fuck, Jeff,” you breathe, a whimper catching in your throat. He hums in appreciation when your wetness coats his fingers, toying with your clit to make you squirm over him.

“God, you’re always so fucking wet after sucking my cock,” he murmurs, voice low as he looks up at you. His fingers are sliding through your folds effortlessly, teasing at your entrance, and you groan his name again, grinding against his hand eagerly.

Making an impatient sound, you shift, hand slipping between your bodies to guide his cock to your entrance. Your touch makes him curse softly, his lips parting as his eyes drop down to watch his cock sink into you as your hips lower toward his.

“Shit, y/n,” he groans, head falling back against the pillow with a content sigh. His hands move to your hips, resting there as you sink onto him further.

You’d forgotten how much you love riding him, how he makes you feel so full as he looks up at you like you’ll disappear if he looks away. Your thighs are tense and you bite your lip, your hands pressing against his chest as your hips lower a little more, and a moan catches in your throat. His thumb brushes idly over your skin, the other hand moving higher over your waist until he’s cupping your breast in his palm.

Leaning over him, hands resting on either side of his head, you kiss him as your hips roll down against his. He moans into your mouth, hand sliding from your hip to your ass, squeezing you there as his thumb drags over your nipple. You shiver, melting against him with a wanton groan as you try to settle into a rhythm. The head of his cock hits your g-spot with the next motion of your hips, making you tighten around him.

You’re doing your best as you try to keep focused on easy rhythm you’ve set, pussy throbbing around his length as you sit up again. Hands resting on his chest, you bite your lip playfully, grinning down at him as you grind against him rougher than before. A gasp slips from you, given the friction of your clit against his pelvic bone, and Jeff hums, eyes sliding over your frame as he rolls your nipple between his fingers.

“Mm, sweetheart,” he breaths, squeezing your ass as your hips grind into his again, the friction too good to stop chasing. “Fuck, that’s good.” You nod quickly, panting out a curse as you tilt your head back to get your hair out of your face.

It surprises you when Jeff fucks up into you, a whine slipping past your lips as your hips slam down to meet his. He curses loudly, the grip on you ass tightening and guiding your hips forward against his again. You can tell that you’re soaked, making the slide of his cock in and out of you easy and downright sinfully good.

“Come here,” Jeff says, voice low as he pulls you down to him easily. You chuckle, grinning as you lean over him again, hips never slowing as you continue to rock against him. His hand slips into your hair, keeping it back from your face and tangling in the strands as he kisses you.

You moan, whining as his teeth catch on your bottom lip. Your clit is begging for attention and a jolt runs down your spine to your core as he tugs at your nipple. “Oh, fuck, I love you,” you pant, the words exhaled into his mouth before you’re kissing him again desperately. You’re close, toes curling as your hand slips between your bodies to help yourself along.

The extra friction makes you cry out, mouth leaving his as you try to catch your breath. His mouth moves to your neck, finding the spot that always takes your breath away, then moving down to your collarbone. He tugs at your hair, not enough to hurt but enough that you gasp, the sound fading into a whine as his mouth moves over your chest. Your movements have grown more erratic, searching for the perfect combination of friction to send you over the edge.

As good as it feels to have his mouth on you and to be kissing him, you sit up again, knowing the angle is just that much better. It only takes a few rocks of your hips to have you groaning in satisfaction, leaning back slightly and resting a hand on his thigh for support while still rubbing your clit. Jeff’s eyes are glued to you as his hand comes nudges yours out of the way toy with the swollen bundle of nerves himself. You don’t stop him, a smirk sliding onto your face briefly before your mouth falls open with a moan.

“God, Jeff, that’s so fucking good,” you whimper, thighs shaking as he fucks up into you and hitting your g-spot in a way that makes you gasp. The bed is squeaking slightly with the movement of you, mixing with the sounds you’re each making.

It didn’t surprise you when your orgasm washed over you a moment later, knowing how easy it was for him to just completely unravel you. You cried out, head falling back as you try to keep the motion of your hips going. It’s more difficult than you expected, moaning his name as you grind down against him roughly.

He nods beneath you, brow creased in concentration as his thumb continues to rub firm circles against your clit. Leaning forward slightly, your hands press against his chest and you can tell from the look in his eye that he’s close as well. Your nails dig into skin, making him hiss and groan that he loves you. The rustling of fabric beneath you gives way to his pressing his foot into the mattress for leverage, as he grips your hip with one hand.

Jeff fucks up into you at the perfect angle to make you go still, desperate for him to keep hitting that same spot. Reduced to whimpering, your eyes squeeze shut, body still as his hips slam up into yours. The sound of skin on skin, his heavy breathing, and your breathless whines filled the room, and you could feel that you’d each worked up a bit of a sweat. A chill runs through your body like electricity, making you shudder as your orgasm starts to fade.

Your pussy is still tight around him when his thumb leaves your clit before he’s tugging you down to him more. He pressed his face into your neck, breathing hot into your skin and groaning while kissing down to your breasts again. He sighs your name into your chest as he cums a short moment later, grunting roughly as his hips slow until he’s worn out. You move slowly, eager to drag out the last few seconds of pleasure.

Jeff melts into the mattress as he rests his head against the pillow. His eyes are closed and you imagine that if it weren’t for the hand rubbing over your thigh contently, you’d think he’d gone back to sleep already. You don’t pull away just yet, kissing down his chest as you try to catch your breath. He’s so relaxed and you can feel his heart pounding as his hand leaves your thigh.

When he pushes your hair out of your face you look up to see him grinning at you. “Have I told you that I love you recently?” he asks, the words coming slow. His voice was like warm honey and you smile back at him before leaning up enough to press a lingering kiss to his mouth.

“A few times, yeah,” you respond, hips resting down against his as you enjoy the fullness of having him inside you still.

“Mm, gotcha,” he says, toying with the ends of your hair and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You only came once, didn’t you?” His brow creases slightly when you nod.

“Yeah, but trust me, I am a very satisfied customer,” you assure him, only to hear him snort with laughter in response. He guides your mouth back to yours, and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. It’s slow at first, but when his tongue slides over yours, you feel your clit throb.

“Want me eat you out?” he asks, his mouth barely leaving yours. The words seem so casual and you groan, tightening around him enough that he cursed under his breath. It only takes another second before you’re nodding, moaning into his mouth as he starts to untangle himself from you.

Jeff turns you over onto your back easily and pulls out before kissing you hard before getting to his feet. Legs still open for him, you watch the muscles of his torso move as he discards the condom. Your hand slips between your thighs impatiently, and when he follows the motion of your hand, he smirks, tugging you an inch or two closer by the ankle.

He climbs back onto the bed, getting settled on his stomach between your thighs. After moving your hand away from your clit, he sucks your fingers into his mouth briefly, smirk never leaving. Guiding your legs over his shoulders, he groaned loudly at the sight of you. You knew you were absolutely soaked, and when you felt his tongue sweep through your sensitive folds a second later, your hips twitched toward his mouth.

His mouth is hot against you and your hand moves to his hair, fingers tangling in his short curls. You tug at the strands, nails brushing over his scalp to make him hum in approval. It’s impossible to stop yourself from squeezing your thighs around his head as you whimper, hips rocking easily against his mouth. He swings an arm over you to keep you still, leaning into you more while he licks from your entrance, up to your clit, then back slowly. You realize he’s cleaning you up and you relax back into the mattress as your heel digs into the back of his shoulder.

Jeff’s tongue is still moving slowly through your folds, just taking his time and you watch him with heavy lidded eyes. The damp heat of his breath hitting your skin had you shivering while your legs shake. Your fingers curl in his hair as you inhale sharply, your other hand dropping to brush light circles against your nipple.

He’s watching you with dark eyes, watching the way you tease at your breast. His pressure changes then, tongue going from slow and lazy to hungry and firm it sinks into you. You try to buck up against him but his arm keeps you in place. A wanton moan leaves you as his tongue fucks into you again before dragging slowly up to your clit again, with the same firmness that has you squeezing your thighs around his head again.

Your thumb brushes over your nipple just as he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking against you quickly and you exhale a desperate sound. “Fuuck, Jeff,” you whine, his name cut short when you cry out as he sinks a finger into you. You can feel yourself shaking, already right there at the edge with how he’d fucked you earlier.

Meeting his eye, you nod weakly and he takes your cue to sink a second fingers into your pussy. Your head falls back against the sheets as your back arches, and when his digits curl against your g-spot, you let out a string of curses. He can tell that you’re getting close and he releases your clit, taking a second to breathe before teasing at your clit again. You had abandoned the idea of toying with your nipple, far too consumed by the soft sounds of his mouth working against you.

His fingers are deep inside you, scissoring slightly and always making sure to hit your g-spot, and your legs tighten around his shoulders. Squirming, you again find yourself trapped by his arm and you make a frustrated noise that makes him pull away from you slightly.

“Cum for me, baby,” he tells you, already leaning back to seal his lips around your clit again.

Your whines build and build, eyes squeezing shut as his fingers fuck into you, and you topple over the edge a second later. You cum with a sharp moan, pulsing tightly around his fingers as Jeff groans against you, fingers still curling inside you. The orgasm is hot and bright, and Jeff guides you through it, murmuring praise every time he’s pull back from you to take a breath.

When you float back down, your eyes are heavy and you finally loosen your grip on Jeff’s hair slightly. His fingers are gone and he’s back to lapping at your folds lazily, making it that much harder to keep yourself from shaking. After another moment, you have to push him away, gasping you try to wiggle away from him.

Jeff chuckles softly, turning his head to rest against your thigh as he looks up at you. His cheeks are rosy, and when he grins, you can see that his mouth and chin are shiny with you’re wetness.

“Thought you were drying to suffocate me there for a minute,” he teases, hand sliding along your thigh as he guides your leg off his shoulder.

Laughing, you nudge him gently with your knee. “Shut up,” you respond, shaking your head as he leans up, pressing a kiss to your stomach. The light touch of his mouth makes you shiver, and you run a fingertip down his nose lightly. You’re trembling slightly, shivering as you try and catch your breath.

Jeff noses at your ribs, kissing his way up your body. Your hand returns to his hair, smoothing it with a light touch. The longer you stay there, the more relaxed you feel, and you realize that it’d be very easy to doze off. As Jeff’s mouth moved higher, he shifted to lean over you, his body radiating warmth as he kisses you on the mouth.

When he pulls away, it’s to settle back against the pillows, and he chuckles when you pout at him slightly. “C’mere, lazy,” he says, patting his chest before tugging at your hand to get you to move.

Sighing heavily, you move, curling into his side. Jeff pulls the blankets over both of you and your head settles on your chest.

tt’s easy to doze for the next hour or so, curled up with him. He had turned the TV at one point, but you weren’t conscious enough to really be sure what he was watching. Jeff ordered food, and when he went to open the door, you rolled into the warm spot he’d left behind, enjoying the smell of his shampoo and cologne clinging to the sheets. When he returned, you heard him scoff at the fact that you’d stolen his spot.

He decides to leave you be, turning around to go eat at the table and that’s when you fully drift off. Some time later, Jeff wakes you up by rubbing a hand over your back to tell you that he was leaving for the arena.

With a warm, sleepy smile you roll onto your side, promising that you’ll see him soon. You kiss him a few times before he stands up and you get the chance to appreciate how good he looks in his suit before he leaves.

Hours later, you’re awake, dressed, and enjoying the game with Lydia. The score was tied by midway through the second period and Jeff had two assists. Sipping at your beer, your eyes are on the ice, but Lydia is practically vibrating next to you.

There’s a stoppage in play a second later and you look at her with an eyebrow raised. “Go ahead,” you tell her, taking another drink. You’re wearing your jersey tonight with black jeans and booties, and Lydia’s in an Eichel jersey that you feel like you haven’t seen before.

“What are you talking about?” Lydia asks, brow creasing as she glances up at the scoreboard.

“You are clearly dying to tell me something, so go ahead,” you respond, laughing slightly. She rolls her eyes, hating that she makes things so obvious.

“I left my bag in Peter’s car, so he stopped by with it after dropping you off,” she says, pausing heavily. It doesn’t take you long to figure out what she’s implying, and you snort, shaking your head.

“Girl, look at you,” you tell her, laughing as you raise your beer to her. “Wait, did you leave your bag in his car on purpose?”

She snorts, shrugging, and you both double over in laughter. It wasn’t the first time she’d used that move, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“Not like you can judge. I’d bet $50 that you went straight to Jeff’s to get busy,” she teases, and your response is to shrug, because it’s not like you’d take that bet.

The two of you continued to to chit-chat and drink, enjoying yourselves as the second period wound down. With a little over a minute to go in the period, Jeff took a hit that made you gasp, bringing you to your feet when he didn’t get up immediately. The arena was full of chatter and your heart was thundering in your chest, watching as Jeff finally got up with the help of his teammates. You dropped into your seat as he immediately went down the tunnel, and Lydia was quick to take your hand, holding it tightly.

You didn’t know what to do, so you sat there, chewing on your lip and bouncing your leg idly. Lydia was quiet, still holding your hand because she wasn’t sure what else to do to help you feel better. Your stomach twists in knots, and you send Jeff a text, unsure of when he’d even have the chance to check his phone.

“Y/n, Twitter says he’s not coming back to the game,” Lydia tells you and you sigh, pushing your hair out of your face. Through most of intermission, you’re silent, staring at your phone and hoping for some sort of news.

It finally came a few minutes into the 3rd period, a text from Jeff, asking you come down to where you usually meet him. Lydia promises that she’ll be fine watching the rest of the game by herself, and you nod, taking off up the stairs just as the Sabres score.

When you see Jeff, seeing that he’s upright and grinning, you’re relieved, putting your arms around him when you’re close enough. He’s freshly showered, and he settles an arm around your shoulder, kissing the top of your head.

“I’m alright, I promise,” he tells you, giving your body a reassuring squeeze. “Knocked the wind out of me pretty bad, and my shoulder hurts like hell, but I’m alright. They don’t think I’ll be out at all.” You nod, finally pulling back to look up at him.

You drove Jeff home and just as you were parking in his garage, you got the notification that Casey scored an empty net goal to seal the win for the Sabres. He was moving a little slower than usual and in the elevator, he was leaning into you. Neither of you said much got in the door, and Jeff immediately headed toward his room. He had mentioned the the trainer had given him some meds, and you could tell he was frustrated about being out for the night, so you gave him some space.

You busy yourself by tidying up the living room some. Folding a blanket, fluffing the pillows, and a few other meaningless tasks to pass a little bit of time. He had always been quiet after a bad game or something like this, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise.

When you come into the bedroom, he’s already in bed, on his back with one arm draped over his eyes. Jeff doesn’t move as you cross the room to go into the bathroom. You wash your face and brush your teeth before heading back into his room so you can change. After hanging up your jersey, you change into a pair of sweats and one of Jeff’s shirts, and when you turn around, he’s watching you with a sad look in his eye.

“Which side do you want me on?” you ask, giving him a sympathetic smile. He pats his left side and you climb into bed with him. It takes no time at all for him to roll toward you, settling himself under your arm to nuzzle into your collarbone.

You hardly mind, loving how quickly he curled around you. His breath against you, and your fingers rub lightly of his back as you feel him relax. Turning your head slightly, you kiss the side of his head and he snuggles into your shoulder a little more.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, voice soft as you toy with his hair.

“M’okay,” he mumbles, so pitifully that you chuckle. He exhales a deep sigh before shifting onto his side a little more, but keeping his head where it was on your shoulder. “Just glad we got to 2 points.” You nod, enjoying the way he’s leaning into your touch as you continue to play with his short curls.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to watch something?” Your voice is quiet, just hoping there’s something you can do to help him feel better.

“Not hungry, but you can put something on if you want. Can’t promise I’ll stay up for long though, I’m already pretty drowsy,” he says, tipping his head up to look at you. He looks sleepy, and you nod, pressing an easy kiss to his mouth before you reach for the remote.

“No preference what I put on then?”

“Nah, not really,” he says, settling his head on your chest again as you start scrolling through Netflix. You’re both quiet for a moment as you start an episode of Derry Girls, and with the sound of Jeff’s even breathing, you think he’s asleep already, so it surprises you when he speaks again. “Are you ready for next weekend?”

You don’t answer right away, but a second later, you nod. “Yeah, I think so. I’m kind of nervous too, but I don’t really know why,” you admit, shrugging as you keep your eyes on the tv. Knowing you probably wouldn’t bother staying up much later, you turn off the lights, grateful for the fancy tech in Jeff’s room that allows you to do it from your phone.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he says, his arm tightening around your waist. “I’m excited though, for everyone to know about us.” You smile warmly to yourself and hum in agreement.

“Me too. I’m still a little nervous, but I know it’ll be a good weekend. It’ll be nice to see everybody.”

“Mhm. Just a few more days now. Are you still coming to the game Wednesday? Figured we could leave straight from the arena,” he says, words coming slower and slower.

“Works for me,” you tell him, starting to play with his hair again. He nods, yawning before settling into you even more.

It’s no surprise that he dozes off shortly after, and you don’t stay up much later, just long enough to finish the episode you’d started. Once you turn off the tv, you lay there in the dark, enjoying the sound of Jeff’s breathing and the warmth of his body pressed against yours. It’s easy to get to sleep that night.

TA-DUH!!! I really like this chapter guys, and I hope you do as well!!! next chapter starts the 4 chapter long section of being at the wedding and i’m so excited to start working on those chapters!

#jeff skinner imagine #jeff skinner smut #bybtm #nhl imagines #nhl smut #buffalo sabres imagine

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hermankopusortizorsumshite · 4 years

Text

You and Kozik were friends with benefits, at least that’s what you told yourself. He often visited and stayed the night, but he always left in the morning.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” You giggle, patting his hand as he headed towards the door. “Hemi?” You call, stopping him at the door. You run to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Why can’t you stay here?”

“I can’t. I’m done with Rev, man. Come with me.”

“I can’t. My job is here, my house.”

“I’m not leaving SAMCRO, sorry.”

“Just come with me.” He barks, grabbing the door handle.

“I can’t!”

“You don’t want to! Afraid your daddy will hate you? Disown you?” He shouts, pointing at you. Tears filled your eyes, you plant your hands on his chest.

“Just go! And don’t come back!” You shout, pushing him out the door and slamming it.

“This is over!” He shouts from outside before climbing onto his bike and flying down the road. About an hour passed by when she heard a bike pull up. Ignoring it, you went back to the laundry, folding one of his shirts and tossing it on the bed. The door creaked open, you figured it was Kozik coming in to apologize.

“Listen, I’m not in the mood, Kozik. Just go.” You call out, but he doesn’t respond. You found it odd and turned to find a Hispanic short masculine man with a gun pointed at you. “Aw shit.” You groan, an elbow swings up, knocking you unconscious.

“Clay Morrow, long time no hear. Listen, I need a few things from you, and I’ll give back an old lady. The new guy’s old lady.” A thick Spanish accent growled through the phone, and Clay’s eyes met Kozik’s back for only a moment before he stood up and headed toward the blonde.

“What do you need?” He asks, tapping Kozik’s shoulder.

“Money, and the drug business you got from Álvarez.”

“Dude, you leave your old lady unattended up in Tacoma?” He hushes to the blonde. Kozik lazily spins on the bar stool, flirting with the barkeep. “Kozik!” He barks, the blonde jumping. “You leave your old lady unattended in Tacoma?” He’s confused for a moment before his eyes slowly bulge. Sliding down onto his feet, he grabs the phone.

“Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter. You listen, I have your little puta here, and if you plan on seeing her alive, you bring me what I need. Álvarez and twenty-thousand dollars.” The ransom was believable, but he couldn’t place it. He’d heard the voice before.

“How do I know you didn’t already kill her?” He challenges, praying to hear your voice. He hadn’t left on good terms, and even if you were through, he loved you.

“Aye, puta!” He hears a scuffle and loud thump, a groan coming from someone.

“He-hello?” You ask. He stared into Clay’s eyes and he expelled the breath he’d been holding. “Hello?” Your voice snapped him from his trance.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to leave like that. I’m sorry!” He shouts at you, seeing your ghost standing in front of him.

“Hemi.” You whisper. He heard the tiredness, the exhaustion and pain in your voice. It hurt his heart that you weren’t there with him.

“I got you, cupcake.” He chuckles, wiping his face down. The stress was eating him alive.

“Well Hemi, this little love story is great, but me and cupcake here have some talking to do, so how about you drop the bag with Álvarez at the park on Seventh, at noon. I’ll assume once Álvarez is alone with the backpack, we’ll proceed with giving her back.” The phone hangs up. Kozik shouts.

“No! Shit!” He drops the phone on the bar before he starts pacing the length of the bar.

“Quit before there’s a hole in the floor or you wear out the floor there.” Tig groans, taking a drink from his beer. “It’s not like she’s your old lady.”

“Shut up, man.” He huffs, pacing still.

“It’s not! She called and said you had a big fight before you left. You said it was over.” He chats, still nursing his beer. Kozik’s eyes meet the black-haired man’s in a fit of rage and shock.

“She called you?”

“She called the office maybe two hours ago, just wanted to make sure you made it here okay.” Tig shrugs, turning to face Kozik as he stood to head out. Kozik grabbed his shoulder.

“You didn’t think I should hear that? That I didn’t need to talk to her?” He barks, hands fidgeting as he stands there on the verge of a breakdown.

“She said not to tell you. She didn’t want to talk to you, I offered to come get you.” He states, putting his hands up in defense.

“She didn’t?” He whispers, wiggling his nose to keep from crying. He’d been so mean for no reason, just upset you wouldn’t putt everything down and come with him. He knew there was a reason he pressed you harder than normal. If he had just made you pack a bag, you’d be here at TM, ignoring him and angrily doing her painting. Her commission was currently a pitbull painted in pink, blue, and green, and she’d laid the base colors. He’d remembered the base colors well as she’d smeared them across his body before they made love all night.

“Shit!” He shouts, kicking the wall of the building, his fist connecting with the tin siding. “Why man!” He shouts, feeling the tears well up in his eyes. “I should have made her come with me.” He mutters against his Dyna.

“Hey cowboy.” A voice calls, heels clicking against the pavement as they got closer to him.

“Go away.” He whispers, feeling her help him to his feet.

“Puta! Wake up! If your amante makes it today, you’ll go home alive. If not, muerte.” He runs a finger along your throat, imagining a blade in its place.

“He’s a man of his word, he’ll be there. He’s not my old man, you moron.” You spit in his face, wiggling at the restraints. His hand cracked across your face, knocking you out once more, dragging you to his car and getting to the park at 11:56.

“Puta! Up!”

Kozik stood there, dropped the backpack with Álvarez and started back to his bike when he saw a girl humped over on the ground 20 yards from him. He headed towards her, to find her pretty battered and beaten up. Scooping you up, he carries you the van before heading back to his post. Your face so beaten, you were unrecognizable to him.

“Kozik.” You whispered, and caught Tara offguard. She gave a shriek, grabbing a scalpel and pointing it at you.

“Geez doc, don’t scare the poor girl.” Tig chuckles, trying to get some of the blood-crusted hair away to see your swollen green eyes looking at him.

“Tiggy.” You smile, grabbing his hand with your weak one.

“I see ya baby. It’s okay, hunny. We’ll call Kozik, tell him we got ya.”

“He brought me here.” You whisper, patting his fingers.

“I know. He didn’t recognize you. You’re pretty tore up, darlin’. Don’t worry though. It’s alright now.” He hushes, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your forehead. You hear a phone click open and hear Tig hush into the speaker, “you grabbed her, man. We got her. Let’s go.”

Kozik’s feet thudded towards the van, his heart pounding harder with every step closer. He didn’t want to get in the van. He didn’t want to see you. Tig slides the door open for him to get in. His eyes drop to you for a moment, finding your swollen, bruised green eyes looking at him. Your bottom lip was busted up and bruised pretty badly. His eyes charted every little thing wrong. Every bruise, every cut, every red spot.

“Shit.” He whispers, his eyes filling with tears once more. His heart putted a little, almost stopping when you gave him a little smile.

“I’m okay, Hemi.” You hush. You pat his hand, assuring him you were okay.

“It’s my fault, fuck, I’m sorry.” He whispers, hands hovering over you, afraid to touch.

“I’m okay, Hem.” He shakes his head, moving away from you and hugging his arms to himself.

A week passed, you had healed for the most part. Kozik had been scarce lately, since the napping. You chalked it up to busy, but something about it bothered you. You were heading to TM currently to confront him. Upon arrival, you find only a woman behind the bar and Tig at the bar, drinking.

“You seen Kozik?” You call as you head to the curly-haired man with a smile.

“Nah, he’s in the shop. Why? You here to rile him up?” He asks with a laugh, pulling you into a warm hug.

“No, just here to see him. Haven’t seen him since he took me home and posted some prospect panty-wetter at my house twenty-five eight.” You groan, reveling in the contact of another human being.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. He’s been pretty fucked up. Cried a lot, fought me a lot. He was scared out of his mind when he heard about you.” He informs, his hand resting on your back.

“He hasn’t really cried a lot, a lot.” The barkeep contributes. “We’ve slept together almost every night this week.” Your eyes meet hers, a fire lit behind your green irises.

“Hey, uh. You might wanna get outta here.” Tig warns her as you reach for a bottle. “Woah woah, don’t do this. Your not thinking right. Hey, listen. I’m gonna go get Kozik. You two obviously need to talk.” He disappeared from the bar for what seemed like seconds, and when you heard Kozik’s voice, you snapped. You lunged over the bar, grabbing the girl and dragging her into the open carpeted area by the pool table, grabbing a pool cue and hitting the girl with it.

“Christ Tig! You left them alone?” Kozik shouts as he rushes towards you. You swing the pool cue like a bat, connecting with his arm with a crack.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You just hit some chick! You expect me to do what?” He shouts, reaching for the stick in your hand.

“To leave me alone! You couldn’t come visit, and I gave you time because I thought maybe you needed it. My mistake.” You snarl, stabbing the pool stick at him to keep him away from you as you exit into the sunshine. “Yeah, I just assaulted some crow eater at the TM, Wayne. Hit her pretty hard with a pool cue. Send an officer to come get me, if you don’t I’m gonna kill this little smarmy bitch.” You hiss into the phone, sitting the pool cue on the ground next to you and pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.

“Listen, I needed some—“

“Different pussy? You stretch mine out too much?” You bark, raising your brows as you took another puff off your cigarette.

“No, no it’s not like that.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I forgot that little rule, where you don’t want your bitch once another dick’s been in it. Is that right?” You ask, eyeing him dangerously. He was taken aback by the words that tumbled so effortlessly from your lips.

“Cupcake—“

“Don’t. Don’t call me that Herman. You lost that privilege. It’s Nell. You know it.  Use it.” It stung. It was like being shot. You hissing his given name at him like venom. You’d never said it in your life.

“No-“ The police showed up as you stood and headed toward the car, arms above your head.

“Turn and place your hands on the hood of the car, feet shoulder-length apart.” The officer states, patting you down and cuffing you, stuffing you into the back of the car. Kozik took towards the car, but Jax and Opie held him back.

“No!” He shouts, strangled and broken. He fell to the concrete. He’d just gotten you back, and now you were gone again. “No! I’m sorry! Let me go, man! Let me go get her!” He cries, the three men moving away from him to give him a moment. “That’s my old lady.” He whispers, his fists hitting the concrete. “I can’t protect her. I can’t make her happy.”

“Kozik, we need to talk about what she said.” Tig hushes, hauling him to his feet.

“That she left?” He hushes, reaching for your hand only for it to be replaced with a cold bottle of rum.

“Kozik, she said you wouldn’t want her once another guy’s dick was in her. Koz, we all talked. None of us had sex with her. Kozik I think that she was—“ Tig stopped, he couldn’t say it. Kozik’s eyes lifted from the bottle in his hand to the other man.

“No man,” he whispers.

“Raped.” Opie finished. Kozik swallowed hard, unable to breathe.

“No.” He growls, slamming the bottle into the bar, shattering it before standing and stalking out. He rode to the station, finding Wayne’s car in the parking lot.

“I gotta see Nell.” He hushes to the sheriff, his eyes flicking to the door and back to the man at the counter.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you back there. She won’t let anyone post bail. Sorry, kid.” He shrugs. Kozik rolls his eyes and heads to another desk, grabbing a keyboard and smashing it into the counter, the desk monitor.

“Listen!” Wayne shouts, grabbing him and cuffing him. He gets tossed into the cell next to yours.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You groan.

“I had to see you, Wayne wouldn’t let me.” He shrugs, sitting on the hard bench.

“So you did what?” You ask, sitting on your own bench.

“I smashed a keyboard and computer.” He chuckles, sliding against the adjoining wall.

“Typical.” You snort, sliding a little closer.

“Cupcake, when you said that I wouldn’t want you once another guy’s dick was—“

“Yeah, the little Mexican fucked me. So what?”

“It was assault, darlin’.”

“Kozik, you were banging some crow eating hooker, why does it have to be assault? Maybe I liked it?” You huff, covering your mouth to keep from crying.

“Cupcake, I’m sorry. Okay? I couldn’t feel worse. You didn’t like it. It‘s okay, and I’m sorry you ever thought that I left because of that, or that I would.” He hushes, reaching through the bars and grabbing your hand, squeezing it. “Don’t worry though. The guys are on it, gonna cut his dick off and superglue it to his forehead.” He laughs, and so do you. For a moment, he was concerned when you put your back against the bars, but you encouraged him to lean against you. Both your hands held the others through the bars and the two of you fell asleep.

“Wakey wakey lovebirds!” Tig laughs, watching the two of you groan as you come to life. The minute the two of you were released from your cells, Kozik’s arms snaked around you and gripped you tightly against his chest.

“Christ cupcake, it’s been a long damn week. Let’s just go home. Find a bed, and never leave it.” He growls against your skin, hefting you over one shoulder and patting a hand on you rear as he carried you out of the station like some kind of trophy. You were met by the MC and their women, cheering echoing and bikes roaring. Kozik drove you straight to his Charming apartment, carried you inside, and dropped you on the bed. In seconds he had three blankets, four pillows, a couple water bottles and a bag of chips. He dove into the mess covering both of you up and snuggling against you.

“I missed you so much, Hemi.” You hush, feeling tears of joy fill your eyes.

“I know, cupcake. I missed you too.” He whispers, trying to pull you closer to him.

#kozik #kozik!reader #herman kozik imagine #herman kozik x reader #sons of anarchy kozik #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #soa #kozik soa

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heythereunderoos · 5 years

Text

Craving More|| High School AU

Pairing: Senior!Tony x Sophomore!Peter Word Count: (Including lyrics) 3436 Warnings: Underage, recreational drug use, underage drug use, bullying

//Here we go again, I kinda wanna be more than friends. So take it easy on me, I'm afraid you're never satisfied//

Tony hadn't been excited at the prospect of another body in their home. He knew that no matter who it was, there wasn't anything or anyone that could warm the cold walls of their home. He knew that another person's chatter wouldn't be comforting or fill the empty halls, it would just make everything seem that much quieter, that much more lonely.

Maria had promised him that he had so much to look forward to. That despite the fact that this poor kid Peter's aunt, who had apparently taken care of him for a majority of his life, had died, that he was still perky and happy. Maria had told him that he needed more friends like that around, and Tony huffed.

Sure.

So Tony was slightly stunned when the boy bounded into the house with his pale yellow suitcases in tow with an equally bright smile, right towards him. Peter released his bags and his arms locked around Tony's neck with a heavy sigh.

"Long time no see, Tony!" The boy giggled into Tony's neck as Tony stood there, blinking, his arms out to his sides to avoid returning the hug.

Who the hell was this kid?

Maria huffed and gave him that look that Tony knew he had to succumb to. So he conceded, and let his muscles relax slightly, giving the kid an awkward pat on the back with both of his hands.

Peter wasn't blind to the older boy's obvious discomfort and pulled away quickly after receiving a few pats on the back. Peter could feel the heat blooming in his cheeks and huffed, his eyes finding the chocolate hardwood beneath his feet, as he tucked a curl behind his ear.

"S-Sorry. You p-probably don't remember m-me much. I'm P-Peter. Peter P-Parker." His eyes, though still towards the ground, were now following the way he wiggled his toes in his sunflower covered converse. He heard a gruff hmm resound from Tony's chest, and saw as the older boy's scuffed leather boots turned as he exited the room. Peter's head shot up and his hand reached out, as a silent squeak fell from his lips.

Peter thought maybe Tony would remember at least some of their childhood memories.

It would seem he had been horribly mistaken.

//Here we go again, we're sick like animals, we play pretend. You're just a cannibal and I'm afraid I wont get out alive. No, I won't sleep tonight//

Peter was trying his absolute best to belong here. But it didn't seem all that meant to be. He was attending Midtown High with Tony and was keeping up amazingly academically. Socially? He was totally falling short. That accompanied with the minor detail that he was sharing a house with Tony who apparently hated his guts? It made it hard to even pretend that he would make it here eventually let alone belong here in this moment. Peter knew that Maria was doing everything she could to make him feel at home, and be the accommodating mother and host that she could be, but Peter was incredibly alone.

It hadn't been a particularly good day. One of Tony's friends, by extension he claimed, Flash, was constantly on Peter's ass. Constantly nagging at him, putting him down, beating him. Today, he had managed a firm right hook to Peter's eye socket and he was feeling the repercussions of that vividly. His left eye was swollen shut and it throbbed, though not nearly as badly as his brain that had been so thoroughly rattled within his skull.

Peter, on his way home from school, had stopped at Delmar's to grab a shitty pair of sunglasses in a poor attempt to hide the inflamed eye, then quickly made his way home.

When Peter came in the door, Tony stood there looking absolutely pissed.

How dandy.

"Where the hell were you? Huh? You fucking punk, making me fucking get in trouble with my mom 'n shit."

Peter's eyes had found his yellow shoes again as he attempted to reconcile the situation, and kindle his relationship with Tony. Peter hadn't even given a thought to the fact that Peter and Tony were supposed to arrive home together. He was too busy well...getting his skull bashed in?

"I-I'm really sorry Tony. I h-had to talk to M-Mr. Harrington a-about D-Decathlon s-stuff." He shuffled his feet in a sorry attempt to shake his anxiety and continued on, "I p-promise I'll tell Maria it was my f-fault."

Though he wasn't looking directly at him, he could see Tony take brisk steps towards him, and his rough, calloused fingers caught his jaw, tugging it upward in a painfully sharp motion, jolting his brain yet again. Peter winced and Tony rolled his eyes.

"That ain't gonna fucking cut it this time, Kid. I'm tired of your stupid bullshit. Just fucking be on time tomorrow."

Tony released him and Peter let out a frustrated huff, before he burst out, "Y-You don't get to t-treat me this way! I d-deal with all this stupid shit a-at school and t-then I c-come h-here and t-this place is supposed to be my h-home too! I'm s-supposed to f-feel safe here a-and you t-treat me just like y-your s-stupid friends do. I h-haven't done anything to you. So w-why do you keep h-hurting me?"

Tony's eyes found Peter as the younger boy tore off the cheap sunglasses and sighed, attempting to wipe the tears away from his swollen eye, before stalking off to his room.

Tony was stupidly oblivious to other's feelings, of that he was painfully aware, but up until this point, he hadn't cared.

After Tony had collected his thoughts and believed he had given Peter a reasonably amount of time to calm down, he brought the kid an ice pack.

//Oh, oh I want some more. Oh, oh what are you waitin' for? Take a bite of my heart tonight. Oh, oh I want some more. Oh, oh what are you waitin' for? What are you waitin' for? Say goodbye to my heart tonight//

Peter could see that Tony was making a conscious effort. He was sending him small smiles, walking him to some of his classes to ensure he wouldn't be bothered, and when they were in the house he'd occasionally come and check on him. It made Peter beam. It seemed that things were looking upwards for both him, and his relationship with Tony.

In return, Peter made sure to cover for Tony if he decided to sneak out and do "senior things," whatever the hell that had meant, Peter wasn't entirely sure. He had guessed it had to do with things of an illicit nature, but was never confident enough to ask. He was perfectly content with the silent agreement the two of them had, having each others backs without having to explicitly state it.

Tonight wasn't at all what Peter had been expecting. Tony had snuck out, as he usually had on the weekends, but tonight he arrived home much earlier than usual. He stumbled in the front door, as Peter sat on the couch, working diligently on his homework. When Peter heard the front door his eyes shot upward, and saw a stumbling Tony. Peter, being Peter, was extremely concerned and ran to his side.

"T-Tony? Are you hurt? D-Do you need medical attention?" Peter's eyes raked Tony's body for any sign of bodily fluids, bruises, or broken bones, but couldn't find any. At Peter's concern, Tony chuckled, with a lazy side smirk.

"Don't be so concerned, kid. I'm just cross-faded as fuck right now." He laughed at himself, and Peter gave him a look that screamed I have no clue what the hell that means. With a gentle roll of his eyes, Tony took the kid’s arm and dragged him up the stairs towards the older boy's bedroom.

When Peter stood at the threshold, his eyes were wide, in utter awe that he was finally allowed in here, with Tony's permission. The older kid rolled his eyes and waved him in as he collapsed upon his bed, patting the space beside him.

Peter took hesitant steps towards the bed, and awkwardly seated himself on the bed's edge.

"D-Do you need anything, Tony? W-Water or something?" Tony just stared at the boys face: his flushed cheeks and button nose. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from the way the light hit the kid's whiskey colored eyes, or the golden flecks within them.

"Nah kid, 'm alright." Tony smiled gently before he scoffed, "dude, stop sitting there all awkward and just lay on the damn bed."

Peter was slightly shocked by the words, but nodded and shimmied his way onto the bed, as Tony watched and laughed softly. After the two were laid side by side, the room was filled with silence, and Peter took a glance at Tony. The older boy looked positively delicious, in his dark, fitted Black Sabbath shirt, glancing off at the ceiling as if contemplating the meaning of his existence, before his eyes found Peter's. Peter's thoughts ceased as Tony's eyes found his and he stared into their abysmal brown hue. Peter hadn't noticed the way he hesitantly gravitated towards Tony, until the older boy spoke and broke him from his thoughts.

"Pete...do you...do you like it here?"

Peter was genuinely taken aback by his question, and quirked his eyebrow as he gave the question some thought.

"A-At first...not really. Maria tried to make it nice. I tried hard to convince myself it was nice. After M-May...after May p-passed and I came here, nothing seemed to fit me quite right. I didn't belong at school, I didn't belong here, y-you," His voice trembled, and he forced himself to close his eyes, take a deep breath and proceed, "y-you hadn't remembered me at all, and we were so c-close, and y-you...you h-hated my guts and I didn't know why."

Peter's eyes found Tony's again, as the older boy let out a soft sigh, before those calloused fingers delicately took Peter's soft buttery hands between them.

"Fuck I'm-," another exasperated sigh leaves Tony's plump lips, "I'm so sorry, Pete. I promise that you belong here, and that I'll treat you better, treat you like you deserve--no, better than you deserve. You deserve better than this, but you belong here, with m-well w-with us."

A small smile graced Tony's features and Peter thought he could melt into those hands like putty if he smiled at him like that again. By now Peter's cheeks were aflame and he wished he could hide his face within the sheets, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Tony's. There was too much residing within them, so much passion and drive, and so Peter just stared.

"But I t-think I belong here with you, now."

//Here we are again, I feel the chemicals kickin' in. It's gettin' heavier, I wanna run and hide. I wanna run and hide. I do it every time, you're killin' me now. And I won't be denied by you, the animal inside of you.//

Tony had made good on his promise. Though he didn't remember making it, Tony treated Peter better than before. He walked him to his classes and even waited around after school if the younger boy had a club meeting. Occasionally Tony would sling his arm over Peter's shoulder and Peter would turn his head away as his cheeks lit on fire. Peter didn't mind belonging with Tony.

It made him feel whole, and appreciated and loved.

Not that Tony had any clue, because he was always oblivious, or so Peter thought.

After Tony had taught Peter what in the hell cross-faded had exactly meant, Peter thought that he could give drugs and alcohol a go. If Tony was there with him. He was unsure about being in that sort of state of mind by himself or at a party, the task seemed a little daunting.

So the two sat upon Tony's bed, as Tony pressed the small bits of marijuana in the small bowl. Tony was a little worried about the younger kid trying a bowl, but he was out of rolling paper so this would have to do.

The stench wasn't exactly pleasant, and it made Peter's stomach turn alongside the concept of getting possibly caught by Maria or Howard.

"Tony a-are you sure they won't be back tonight?"

"Aye, Pete, I told you a hundred times, they're out of the state and won't be back for a couple days. Calm down. You're gonna be alright. I'll be right here the whole time, kid."

"O-Okay." Tony looked up from his handiwork to give Peter a reassuring smile, and in return the kid smiled and awkwardly chuckled.

"Y-You're friends p-probably weren't this jumpy were they?"

"Eh," Tony shrugged, flicking the lighter a few times before a flame actually appeared, "everyone is a little nervous their first time Pete. You're no different than them." Tony waived the flame gently over the bits packed into the bowl, before placing his finger over the hole, inhaling gently as the smoke filled up the glass, before releasing his finger, and inhaling deeply. He let the smoke sit in his lungs, permeate the organs, before exhaling.

Peter watched the scene in awe, and bit his lip to contain himself as a result of how hot the action was. How Tony seemed confident in his motions, how the smoke blew from his lips, and the look of transcendence and dare he say bliss on Tony's face?

"You catch any of that, kid?" Tony asked before he turned to look at Peter who was staring back at him in awe. Tony chuckled gently before lighting the bowl again, and holding it up to Peter's lips. They had a good system going. Peter just inhaling and exhaling and Tony working the mechanics of the bowl that Peter was clearly clueless on.

Peter felt the back of his throat go numb, and coughed repeatedly. For a second, Tony was worried the kid would either puke or choke, but after tossing the kid a water bottle he settled down.

"H-Hey, Tony?"

"Yeah, kid?" Tony was working on taking his own drag before he glanced over and saw the kid’s eyes were a little bloodshot already.

"Is....is any of this real? Am...am I here right now?" Peter's eyes were wide as he slowly looked around the room, as if trying to gauge just how real this situation was. Tony chuckled and nodded his head, smoke dispersing from his lips and seeping out his nose.

"Yeah, kid this is all real. You and I are just chilling out in here." Peter smiled at that and Tony let out a breathy laugh. Tony didn't expect him to be this out of it, this early in the game, but he didn't mind. Peter's face scrunched up before he laid his head in Tony's lap as Tony scoffed. He was a cuddly one. But Tony wouldn't deny him that, so he gently carded his fingers through the younger boy’s soft hair as he spoke.

"Tony..." The boy hesitated, as he reached his hands upwards, taking the hand that Tony had within the boy’s locks between his soft fingers, fiddling with the calloused ones.

"W-Will you take c-care of me? N-Now that May is g-gone?" At this point Tony couldn't tell if the boy's eyes were bloodshot and glassy as a result of the paraphernalia or if he was on the verge of tears. Tony closed his eyes and let out a tight sigh, rubbing his thumbs over the back of Peter's hands.

"Yeah, Pete. I'll take care of you. You'll be okay here with us." He smiled gently down at the younger boy, and the boy gently returned it. Peter sat himself upwards, his hands still gripping Tony's tightly, as if that was the only thing grounding him in this wonky state of mind.

"You h-have really nice hands." Peter takes his lips between his teeth as he stares down at Tony's thick, rough fingers, caressing the pads of them gently. At this Tony laughs, a deep resounding laughter that fills Peter up with something akin to warmth and happiness.

"Thanks, Pete. Yours are nice too. Really soft. You use moisturizer?" Peter's giggles are soft and airy, and Tony thinks that he wouldn't mind hearing that forever. On a loop.

"No! I don't use moisturizer!" Another bout of giggles from Peter that reverberate warmly within Tony's chest. After his laughter has died down, Peter finds himself gravitating a little too close to Tony, but it's too late, because in his hazy state of mind he's crawled into Tony's lap and his head is tucked into the older boy's neck.

Tony doesn't breath, doesn't allow himself to touch the younger boy, and it's obvious to the kid.

"Y-You used to hold me like this as a kid. U-Used to take c-care of me." The boy sniffed and Tony's immediate reaction was to cuddle him close.

"Hey, kid, I told you that I've got you. I'm gonna take care of you, and you're gonna be okay. No need to get upset." His right hand was cupping Peter's head, gently running his fingers through his hair, and the other resided upon the boy's back, running his palm comfortingly over the expanse of his t-shirt.

Peter let himself be cradled for a few moments, enjoy the warmth radiating from Tony's body, and the feeling of being wrapped in security before he pulled back, and Tony looked at him with a curious face.

Peter let his eyes wander, from Tony's messy locks, to his quirked eye brow, to his intense gaze, his long pretty lashes, to the cute slope of his nose, the sharp cupid's bow and plump lower lip, to the stubble on the older boy's chin as Peter bit his lip.

"C-Can I uhh....can I kiss you?" The question took Tony aback, but he laughed gently before responding.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Pete-" his words were stifled by the pressure of baby soft plush lips pressed against his, and the complete loss of any thoughts flowing within his head.

The kid was by no means experienced but it hadn't mattered. Though sloppy, it was endearing the amount of passion and excitement Tony could feel through the gentle way their lips molded together. One kiss turned to two, turned to four, 'til the pair weren't going to pull away despite needing air. Peter's finger were tangled in Tony's hair, and the hand Tony previously had within the boy's hair had now found his chin and was delicately cupping it. Peter was the one that conceded, only gently releasing the other boy's lips before gulping for air and releasing a content sigh.

"That hair," the kid huffs again as a bright smile lights up his face, "it drives me absolutely crazy."

With Tony's consent, Peter clung onto him. Constantly at his side, providing him with company and intriguing conversations. The two were practically inseparable. Tony had introduced Peter to his friends and though they were hesitant, eventually they took to liking Peter. Tony met Peter's friends Ned and MJ, and though Peter was nervous that Tony wouldn't appreciate how quirky and dorky the two were, Tony melded along with them just fine.

At the moment the two were wrapped in each other's arms, tangled within Tony's sheets just basking in each other's presence before the younger boy spoke.

"Umm...T-Tony? I was w-wondering if maybe you'd f-feel comfortable doing m-more than j-just kissing?" Peter's face was tucked into Tony's side, though despite being muffled, Tony heard him loud and clear, and chuckled gently.

"Oh yeah? And do what? Make out?" The older boy teased, and received a slap on the arm, Peter's face growing hotter by the second.

"N-No you jerk. You know exactly what I m-mean." Tony's fingers found Peter's chin and tugged his face up, so the boy was forced to look him in the eye.

"No, I don't believe I do. I'll do whatever you'd like, you just have to say the word, baby boy." Peter's eyes widened and the heat in his cheeks intensified at the pet name.

"W-Well umm...c-could we make love?" Peter's lip was tucked between his teeth, and thought it was one of Tony's favorite sights, he was far too enthralled with the endearing manner with which Peter had asked him that question.

"For you baby? Of course."

_________________________________________

Hey there stranger, check me out on AO3 will ya?

Sorry if this sucks btw, I really gave it my all, but I’m honestly so tired

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mimir-writes · 4 years

Text

Among The Survivors

The fog of condensation obscured the gas giant that lingered miles beyond the glass breathing apparatus keeping the astronaut alive. The warm glow of the burning metal gave the giant a beautifully luminescent halo that stretched as far as the eye could see. Storms brewed far below the astronaut as it drifted in dead space not really comprehending what it was looking at. As the alarms on the inside of the suit blared blinked it slowly made its way to the remnant of the ship that still hung around.

An atmosphere producer was operational enough to feed a fire and keep the astronaut alive while it patched up the leak in its suit. A name tag bearing the word “Vasquez” glittered in the light of the orange flame as the suit was repaired and its wearer pulled up the digital map that was sewed into the arm.

There was a new awkward “U” shape that was added to the bottom of the otherwise pristine ship. From the side view of the vessel that the map gave Vasquez the information needed to plot a course to safety. The main issue being the rather large pocket of empty space between the astronaut and the nearest functioning airlock. The path plotted took Vasquez from the safety of the O2 producer around the starboard hull of the ship all the way to the top of the bridge where a VIP airlock waited.

Vasquez double-checked the map before venturing out, 1,300 airlocks malfunctioning hundreds of kilometers away was a cause for concern. But the map did not lie to the poor astronaut. Whatever had created the new hole in the vessel must have destroyed the airlock controls simultaneously. That would explain the sharp spike in electrical activity on the display on the suit’s wrist that showed up right before the explosion. It must have been some sort of EMP that detonated the reserve tanks of fuel. The astronaut had better things to think of so Vasquez resolved to make it to the bridge before investigating what happened.

Pushing off from the small outcropping that the astronaut clung to, Vasquez turned away from the small blast coming from the O2 processor. Vasquez had rigged the machine to explode and got a nice boost out of it. The tiny thruster pack strapped the Vasquez’s was not enough to clear the crater left by the explosion. The first stop on the journey was to the edge of the crater. The rigged explosion gave just enough momentum to get the astronaut around the edge. A pipe jutting out gave Vasquez the necessary turn to angle towards the bridge.

The thruster pack strapped to the suit Vasquez wore was a useful tool in dire situations but had a very small fuel tank. It could only be fired in bursts to be of any use for Vasquez. The astronaut would have to rely on handholds on the outside of the vessel to ascend the hull with any kind of luck before the O2 in its suit ran out. The vessel was massive and would take Vasquez all the strength the poor astronaut could muster to make it up the mountain of a ship that loomed above.

Vasquez looked back at the gas giant far below and saw that it had lost it’s orange halo and retained its stormy dark green surface. Even this far away from the endless churning mass of gas and storms still pulled the astronaut into its gaping maw. Vasquez half debated letting go and falling into that abyss but knew better, the storm would just toss the lifeless body that was once Vasquez around for eternity.

There wasn't a network of handholds or a ladder leading the way up to the bridge, so Vasquez essentially had to jump up the ship. A sharp pull up with the assist of the thruster pack threw the astronaut up the side of the hull while a thrust forward a few seconds later got Vasquez higher and higher with each *putt* that came from the pack.

Along the way, Vasquez peered into the windows that lined the hull and learned only dread from what was seen inside. The vast majority of the windows were black and only had a reflection of Vasquez in them. No survivors had turned on the lights yet. As the astronaut ascended more and more windows had spatters of what looked like blood on them. First, they looked like someone had a papercut or nasty booboo but as the astronaut went higher the blood grew. Now splatters looked like buckets and there were hands prints on some of the windows. In one window Vasquez counted 2 dozen hand prints each streaked down towards the floor.

The bright lights coming from the bridge seemed like a beacon to the astronaut clutching the vessel between jumps. Windows closer to the bridge had been broken off entirely, a feat Vasquez knew was near-impossible. The windows were triple sealed with glue that kept 1,000-ton cables attached to space elevator cars. Whatever popped out the windows either melted away the glue or was very strong. Stronger than a simple atmosphere vent. It was improbable that an explosion would blow the windows outward the way Vasquez saw them. The panes were punctured as well, almost like they were thrown out of their sockets. Vasquez put this matter away, the mind had a way of making things up in dire situations, maybe this was one of them. Nothing Vasquez knew of could punch through the glass so smoothly.

The VIP airlock was originally designed for the captain of the ship and any important guests on board. It was essentially a small door to the side of the bridge used for emergencies. As the airlock was cycling Vasquez peered into the bridge and saw it was in a state of chaos. Chairs were turned over and the emergency lights flashed overhead, the one person Vasquez had seen flew across the various control boards.

Vasquez did not know the man but could tell he was out of his league. His greased stained coveralls left marks wherever he stood and sweat poured profusely from his brow. The airlock had finished cycling and Vasquez stepped out by the time the man noticed and they met face to face. The man was relieved at first but as the silence between the two grew, the man was distressed. He tried to explain to Vasquez the situation and asked the astronaut before him to help or lend some kind of expertise but got nothing in return. The man stopped when he looked back at Vasquez’s name tag attached to the spacesuit. At the same time, Vasquez looked at the name embroidered on the coveralls. Both read “J. Vasquez”.

#short story #fiction #writing

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brightlycoloredteacups · 7 years

Text

Breaking Point

Series: Brynhilda’s Saga: Ivar x OC

Warnings: General use of violent imagery, none for this chapter.

Brynhilda bangs on the door of the healer’s house. It’s taken her nearly an hour to get there, she had gotten lost. She had to ask Sigrid where this mysterious healer lived. An old woman opened the door, glaring at Brynhilda for disturbing her sleep. “What do you want?” She snaps. “Prince Ivar requests you come and tend to him.” Brynhilda explains. The healer harrumphs. “Tell him I’m sleeping.”

“No, you will come.”

“Oh? And what’s a slave going to do about it?” Brynhilda lets out a growl. She was halfway ready to throw the old woman over her shoulder when Sigrid spoke up, sensing Brynhilda’s ire. “If you won’t come, then at least show us how to do it.” The old woman looks at the child, grunts, and lets the girls in.

There’s a foul smell coming from the house that Brynhilda recognizes, it reminds her of the battlefield where the slain have yet to be buried. The hag putts around the house, gathering things in her arms. “It’s the pain you have to deal with first.” She tells them. “Then you must relax him.”

“How do I go about doing that?” Brynhilda asks. “You need a gentle, but firm hand. The boy gets knots in those twisted muscles of his. You must rub them away.”

“If I lay hands on that little idiot they’re going around his neck.” Brynhilda mutters, smiling at the thought. The old woman turns to look at Brynhilda quizzically. “You weren’t always a slave, where you?”

“Nope!” Sigrid answers for her. “She was a shield maiden once.”

“Let’s not go spreading that around,” Brynhilda mumbles. Sigrid blushes and looks at the floor. “My apologies.” She mutters. The old woman cackles. “I thought as much,” she says. “I’ve watched you from the shadows, seen you mouth off to the prince. He likes you.”

“That’s a good one.” Brynhilda misses the hag’s irritated gaze, too busy watching Sigrid. The girl is looking around, fascinated by all the herbs. She picks up a mushroom and sniffs it. Brynhilda immediately takes it out of her hands, puts it back, and gives the child a warning look. Sigrid blushes, giving her a sheepish smile. “If Prince Ivar didn’t like you so much, you wouldn’t get away with so much lip, of this, I can assure you.” Brynhilda merely rolls her eyes, but remains quiet.

Despite her previous warning, Brynhilda has a hard time keeping Sigrid from touching everything. She has to chase after the girl and put things back, sometimes forcefully. The old woman laughs. “Let her explore, you must learn the right mixtures.” Brynhilda glares at the old woman but casts a worried look to Sigrid. She’s smiling wide, excited now that she has permission to look at everything. “Don’t eat anything.” Brynhilda tells her. Sigrid nods and turns to inspect a pile of powders.

Brynhilda and the old woman take their time, making sure nothing can go wrong. It’s simple enough, three herbs go into a cup of warm ale, another four are mixed in sheep’s oil and rubbed onto his leg. The old woman told her she might want to warm her hands before this, Ivar was known to pitch fits if cold hands touched him. Brynhilda had a hard time not rolling her eyes, he pitched fits at everything, it seemed. The old woman finished her lesson with instructions to fill another horn of warm ale with a powder, so the prince may sleep.

As Brynhilda was packing the herbs away, repeating the instructions in her head, Sigrid and the old woman talk. It’s in hushed tones, less to keep Brynhilda from overhearing, more because it just seems like a place to be quiet. When Brynhilda stands, she jerks her head to the door. Sigrid jumps up from her seat and scuttles over. They thank that old woman and go back into the night.

Sigrid ducks to go back into the slave house, but Brynhilda stops her. “Can you help me?” She asks. Sigrid merely pauses, looking at her in disbelief. “I…” Brynhilda starts. She shuffles uncomfortably on her feet. “I don’t have gentle hands,” she explains. “I am no healer; will you rub Ivar’s legs for me?” In the dim glow of the moon she can see panic in Sigrid eyes. “I won’t let him hurt you,” Brynhilda says, putting her hands on the small girl’s shoulders. “If I can help it. He might get a hit in, depending on his mood, but I won’t let him kill you.” Sigrid takes a deep breath, collects her courage, and walks with Brynhilda into the longhouse.

When they open Ivar’s door, they’re immediately assaulted with a cup. Sigrid, used to Ivar’s more violent outbursts, is quicker to react and manages to catch it. “Where the hell have you been?” Ivar snarls, “And where is the old hag?”

“She didn’t want to deal with your shit today,” Brynhilda explains, making sure to stand in front of Sigrid. The walk to his little table, and Brynhilda begins to set everything out. “So, she told me what to do.”

“Go back and get her.”

“No,”

“Yes.”

“I am your master!”

“You’re an irritating child.” Ivar snarls at this but doesn’t deny it, instead, he keeps whining. “You’ll break my legs, you’re nothing more than a clumsy ox.”

“Sigrid will rub your legs.” If Ivar registers Brynhilda’s comment, he doesn’t show it. “You’ll poison me,” he continues. “I know you want me dead. I see the way you glare at me when I give you an order. It’s not my fault you’re a slave.”

Brynhilda is busy running the ale filled over the fire of a brazier. She passes it over slowly, then allows a few moments out of the flame so the cup doesn’t burn, while she does this, she looks at Ivar, giving him her best menacing smile. “If I wanted you dead,” She told him. “You’d be dead, and it would be by poison.” This seems to shut him up for a while. “How would you kill me?” He asks. Brynhilda is struck by the oddity of the question. He know doubt wants to know out of a combination of morbid curiosity and the desire to see it coming so he could defend himself. “Violently,” She says. The ale is warm enough, she thinks, so she goes about putting the herbs in it and letting them steep.

“More than likely, I’d strangle you, but knowing you, I’d probably have to run you through with a sword, or bury an axe in your head.”

“What do you mean ‘knowing me?’ you don’t know me at all.”

“I know enough to realize that you aren’t going down without a fight.” She hands him the cup, she doesn’t think they let them sit long enough, but she wants to get this done and over with. He downs it in a few gulps. “It wouldn’t be much of a fight,” Ivar mutters, avoiding her gaze. “How would you know? I know how to throw a punch.”

“My brothers do not take the time to train me as a warrior.” Ivar scoffs. “Despite being a Prince, you and I would be equals if it came to a fight to the death.” Brynhilda has to wonder how much that hurt him to admit, instead, she settles for a small truth of her own. “Any other day, I’d disagree, but I’m not exactly in top form.” She hands the bowl of oil and herbs to Sigrid, who takes them hesitantly.

Wide eyed with fear, she kneels in front of Ivar, who’s glaring at her for all he’s worth. Brynhilda takes his cup and watches closely, ready to strike at any moment. For a while, it appears all the fight has gone out of Ivar, too much in pain, and too upset with his lack of battlefield prowess compared to a slave to really pay attention, but when Sigrid hits a particularly hard knot in his calf, he snarls and back hands her so hard she goes flying. Before he can start his tirade of how stupid the little girl is, Brynhilda steps in front of Sigrid, delivering a back hand of her own. Ivar’s head snaps to the side and stays there for a few moments, stunned.

Brynhilda turns to Sigrid, inspecting the girl’s cheek. It’s red, most likely it will bruise, but the skin hasn’t split from his brace, so that’s a good sign. “Go,” Brynhilda whispers, “I’ll finish here.” Sigrid doesn’t need to be told twice. She runs for the door as fast as she can, and disappears into the dark.

Brynhilda turns to Ivar, the corner of his mouth is bloody. “You’ll pay for that,” He threatens. “Shut up,” she snaps. “You deserved it you little shit.”

“I am your prince! I am your master, you will obey me, slave!”

“And if I don’t?” Brynhilda can’t help but goad him, she’s hip deep in it now, might as well. Besides, seeing him turn red in anger because of her is incredibly satisfying. “Then I’ll become your worst nightmare.” He smirks, thinking his intimidation will work. Brynhilda leans down, her nose nearly touching his. “I can tell you,” she begins, green eyes boring into blue, “With the utmost certainty, that anything you come up with is mere child’s play compared to what I’ve been through.”

“What hardships does a slave know?”

Brynhilda’s hand slips around Ivar’s neck, the impulse to choke him strong. She settles for squeezing lightly instead. She tells herself it’s to get her point across, but really, she just likes the feeling of being in power again. “I would like you to remember that I wasn’t always a slave. I had a full life before coming here, a dangerous one. I am capable of much more than you realize.”

For a moment, the air is charged, with what, neither can decipher. Brynhilda lets go of his neck and stands back. “Take off your pants.” She tells him. He gives her a soft ‘no’. She wants to snap at him, but the pathetic look he gives her stops the words in her throat. Sighing, she sits next to him. “I know about your legs, Ivar,” She tells him, trying not to sound like she’s talking to a stubborn child. It’s hard, his mood swings definitely suggest he’s a spoiled brat. “I know they’re twisted and unpleasant, but rubbing your legs underneath your clothing won’t be very helpful.” He presses his lips together, thinking about it.

Eventually, he concedes her point and begins to unlace his trousers. As he does so, she walks back to his bed, putting the last set of herbs in his cup along with the ale. This time, she surrounds the cup with coals from the brazier and leaves it while she tends to his legs.

Ivar has covered himself as much as he can, but his legs hang over the bed frame. She’s careful to school her expression into one of neutrality. Kneeling in front of him, she just begins to work.. His legs don’t feel like she imagined they would. They’re thin, twisted things, but the skin on them is soft. They remind her of bones that were broken, then healed wrong. Whatever benefits he’d receive from the oil are gone, so it’s just her hands.

She makes sure she’s thorough with Ivar’s’ legs. She doesn’t want to be woken up in the middle of the night again. With every knot hit, he grunts and she braces for a hit. None come. When it’s all over with, she gets up wordlessly, hand him the ale cup, admittedly probably too hot to drink, and leaves.

#ivar the boneless #ivars heathen army #ivar ragnarsson #vikings #brynhilda and ivar

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river-sanchez-blog · 7 years

Photo

Name: Rita Sanchez

Nickname: River (likes to be called like this)

Age: 26

Dimension: K-219

Job: she used to work as a guard but had to quit for personal reasons. she started to work at a Rick cafe in the citadel, but after that she opend up her own cafe. its called le moon and its for all Mortys, Rick’s and other clients who want to visit. she is the boss there but does not mind to take orders herself.

character: she has low selfesteem issues at some situations. she is, but kind. she likes to act happy when she feels any kind of negative emotion. somethimes when she’s alone she gets depressed, she tries to distract herself from bad thoughts or creating bad habits.

- River couldnt have children of her own. At age 20 she suddenly got reasigned to a Morty who was 18 years old. At first it was a whole adjustment since she wasnt used to be called mom or grandmother. Honestly? it weirded her the fuck out. But she warmed up to them and even started caring about them. She knew that Rick’s dont really care or hide that they care from their familly’s or reasigned familly’s. there was something she had in comon with other Rick’s and thats the fact that she hated Jerry’s who were unemployed and banged Beth at an early stage.

- Her Morty was a guard Morty but he needed someone like her to keep an eye out for him. Because of Morty she joined the guards to and she had a happy life with them even though she was diffrent from most Rick’s and often was mocked for it. She dint care, she loved them.

- after 2 years something she hadnt foreseen happend. For some reason Jerry from Morty’s dimension lost it, he poisened Beth and Summer, then he poisened himself. She and Morty just arrived home from their guard shift only to be devastated by the scene infront of them. She tried her best to calm him down or to avert his eyes from the scene but it was already to late. Morty became a hysterical mess and it was almost like his mind could not fatom the fact they were dead. Morty did not understand why hiss dad would do such a cruel thing towards his own familly. River had to take him away from his dimension and brought him to her dimension so he could calm down and better cope with the situation.

- while beeing in her home for a few months she devoted every ounce of her time and energy to Morty. during those months that Morty was home alone, because River would go to her guard shifts, he started to drink. at first he could hide it from River because he dint drink so much yet, but after a while it gotten to a point were River had to go and get him from a café. she scolded him about beeing drunk and beeing outside alone was dangerouse to in his state. she hoped he would stop but he dint, but instead of going out he stayed at home were again he got so drunk that he dint know right from wrong and having a hard time getting his hormones under control. so one day River Always noticed that after her shifts he became clingy and touchy but she just wrote it of as teenage behaviour. at one day she was so tired from her shift that she hardly had the strenght to do anything but sleep. Morty was again very drunk and took advantage of the situation. he pinned her against the floor and flat out told her that he wanted to do it with her. River tried not to let her emotions get the better of her so she pushed him back with whatever little energy she could muster up. River then saw him crying and talking to her in an obsessive way. she guided him to bed and they dint speak for the rest of the night

- the next day though again after her shift she saw him packing his stuff and wanting to leave her. she tried talking to him, but he wouldnt reply, then she asked him why he would leave her. he gave her a cold stare and told her that his familly was dead because of her, that his life became shit because of her and that she would pay for making him believe she was innocent. River was shocked to hear what came out of his mouth. it felt as though she spend all her time and energy to help him get through this was for nothing. she helped him get dressed, she cooked for hime, she let him vent out towards her and all that effort was just going through the drain as if that never happend for him. she felt as if she got stabbed in the back or broken into millions of pieces like a mirror. she wanted to cry and plead him not to go. but she knew he wouldnt listen to her, he never did listen to her in the first place. he used his spare portal gun to leave her dimension and go back to his own dimension.

- River had to fill in some documents that explained why she dint want to be assigned to Morty her current Morty anymore. River went back to work as a guard but she already felt that the vibe changed and that was Morty’s fault. she got in trouble and had to explain why Morty was telling lies about River having killed his familly. luckely for her she had security footage of jerry poisening his own familly. soon everyone knew that Morty lied and dint believe him anymore. River still did her best as a guard, but she still had hope that Morty would come back to her one day and Morty took advantage of her feelings. he was still her partner so he would let her do things to get his affection and told her lies that he would come back to her. but River was not an idiot and soon asked for another Morty as her partner and it was approved. she was relieved and happy with her new partner. but everytime she was walking alone in the hallway, Morty would get infront of her asking why she changed partners. but River dint reply and just gently pushed him aside to get away from him. he would yelling at her like an obsessed stalker to not walk away from him. but she did not listen. after a while she would go into her office only to find her new partner tied up and tortured. there was no evidence to suggest who it was but she know all to well who did it. she was once again alone but this time when she came across Morty, she would drag him into the storage closet and interrogate him. he pleaded guilty in a playfull way, but made sure she would know that she wouldnt be able to tie him to the crime. he was right but atleest she felt confident that her intuition was right, she wanted to leave but he locked the door. Morty grinned telling her he was his to have alone. River’s selfasteem was pretty low because of every emotional thing he caused her. he started to feel her up and forcefully started to kiss her and then her neck. she couldnt deny the feeling was nice but it was brute and forcefull, plus she dint want Morty to do this as it felt so wrong at the time. she tried pushing him back but he wouldnt allow her as he pushed himself more against her. she started to panick and overly felt claustrophobic. suddenly the door swings open as Morty’s new partner grabbed him and pulled him out agressively. he slammed Morty against the wall and told him to stay putt. everything went blurry for River as she passed out in the storage room. she woke up in the citadels hospital, Morty’s new partner sat next to the bed and eventually when she was awake he would apologize to her. he would ashure her that he would get better control over his partner, but for River this was the last straw and quit her job

- at first she went to work in a café inside the citadel to get her confidence back. little by little it did, but there was one problem and that was Morty. his obsessive behaviour towards her made him visit the café more. eventually she had no choice but to go to her own dimension and establish her own café. she was glad she did because her café became popular and she could spend years without Morty bothering her everyday. he did still bother her but only once in a loooooong while. she still had some low selfesteem issues with sertain things, but atleest she learned how to act as if nothing bothered her. she Always stayed kind and even let her hair grow out.

#info

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golfiyaa · 4 years

Text

Choosing The Right Golf Ball

With regards to choosing which golf ball to play, you actually have a thousand options. They go in costs anyplace from gentle to wild. At the point when you play a ball that is appropriately fit for your game, your shot execution will improve and you will bring down your score. Each shot checks thus does your ball, yet we frequently hear golf players state they play with "whatever is in my sack." Performance contrasts between golf ball brands and models are down changing, particularly on short game scoring shots. Playing with a similar ball model each round takes out this exhibition variety and will assist you with hitting more greens in guideline and hit the ball nearer to the pin to change over more putts. This is one of the initial steps to building up a progressively reliable game. Keep in mind, there's just one bit of hardware you use on each shot, your golf ball.

Pick A Ball That Best Fits Your Short Game

Notwithstanding expertise level, golf players hit their driver just multiple times per round. Most by far of shots incorporate methodology shots, pitches and chips. For instance, on the off chance that you shoot a normal score of 90, you will hit in excess of 40 shots to the green however just 14 drives. Experts and novices the same shoot their best adjusts when they limit the quantity of short game shots. So select a ball that performs best for your scoring shots.

Shouldn't something be said about Swing Speed?

Ball fitting for swing speed is a fantasy. A golf ball must perform for all golf players of all swing speeds on all shots, else it won't perform for any golf player. A PGA Tour player's driver swing speed is higher than most beginners. However his speed on long or mid-irons might be like your driver swing speed.

Would it be advisable for me to Use What The Tour Pro's Use?

Visit players make the game look simple. Despite the fact that they may have a higher swing velocity and all the more reliably execute great swings, they are playing a similar game. They despite everything miss greens in guideline and need to find a workable pace. They, as well, need to hit more shots closer to the gap. Regardless of whether you normally shoot 80s, 90s or more than 100, you are confronted with similar sorts of scoring shots on your methodologies, pitches and chips.

The distinction between Tour players and numerous novices is that they organize golf ball execution on their scoring shots. Playing with an elite ball will convert into hitting a couple of more greens in guideline and shots closer to the opening when you hit your shot the manner in which you proposed. Novices and aces the same make a higher level of 3' putts than 12' ones.

Understanding Golf Ball Compression

There is a typical confusion that a player must match the pressure of the golf ball to their swing speed so as to appropriately "pack" the ball. Each golf player packs the golf ball on each full swing shots. Truth be told, the distinctions in the measure of pressure across driver swing speeds are for all intents and purposes vague.

Another fantasy is that lower swing speed players will hit a lower pressure golf ball longer. No single component of golf ball configuration decides the golf ball's presentation or its separation. Pressure is a trial of the overall non-abrasiveness of a golf ball and identifies with how firm or delicate a golf ball feels to a golf player. While there is no presentation advantage to picking a particular pressure, numerous golf players (paying little mind to swing speed) do have feel inclinations. Golf players who favor milder feel may lean toward lower pressure golf balls.

80 - Lower pressure balls are likewise the gentlest. This gives a sling shot impact, which moves the ball further. However, it is more earnestly to control. Pick a golf ball with a 80 pressure rating in the event that you don't regularly drive the ball a long separation, are a lesser player, senior or lady of normal quality. The 80 pressure ball permits more slow swingers to all the more effectively pack the ball with the club face on the downswing and acquire a more noteworthy separation.

90 - Played by most of male players and experienced female players. The 90 pressure ball requires a quicker club head speed at effect on augment golf ball pressure and spring impact at sway. In the event that you don't know whether you ought to hit a 90 pressure ball versus one of a 80 rating, testing a few shots of each sort on the training reach will assist you with seeing which ball voyages more remote for your swing.

100 - The hardest pressure, this rating is most appropriate for cutting edge players with quick swing speeds. Pick a golf ball with a 100 pressure rating in the event that you ordinarily drive the ball in excess of 275 yards off the tee and have a quick club head speed. You will have the option to amplify the separation for the entirety of your shots, yet will see decreased range off the tee if the club head speed isn't sufficiently quick to accomplish the full spring impact.

Test a few appraisals of ball pressure on the training range and clarify the normal separation that you hit each evaluating of ball with a similar golf club. A few players decide to play a gentler pressure rating since they have a superior vibe for hitting approach shots, so you will need to temper the separation measure against how each ball feels when hitting your wedges and short irons.

Shouldn't something be said about Choosing A Ball For Distance?

Since you will just hit 14 drives for each round, organizing a ball with the longest separation off the tee won't really assist you with bringing down your score. What's more, in the event that you miss the green, you despite everything need to find a workable pace. Playing a golf ball with the best scoring exhibition will assist you with shooting lower scores.

What about Spin?

Seeing how turn influences your game will assist you with picking the best golf ball. On shots with the driver, low turn will give longer and straighter drives. On shots with your long irons, lower turn produces straighter flight yet decreases halting force. In the short game, more turn gives all the more halting force into the green.

There are noteworthy execution contrasts between golf ball models, especially on the short game scoring shots. To shoot lower scores, golf players will profit by a golf ball that gives phenomenal scoring turn, the turn and control expected to hit more greens nearer to the pin with irons and wedges.

Golf Ball Feel Preference

While many golf ball execution attributes, for example, separation and turn control are quantifiable at any dispatch condition, feel is an inclination decision and is profoundly abstract. Feel is player subordinate. A few golf players incline toward milder feel while others like a crisper, firmer feel. Feel is additionally shot ward. A few golf players measure feel on full swing shots where others assess it on fractional swings or putts. While feel doesn't contribute straightforwardly to scoring execution, it is a significant thought for some golf players.

Golf Ball Color Preference

There are numerous components that add to a golf ball's appearance: dimple design, side stamp, play number, and, obviously, shading. For players who look for higher perceivability against the shades of blue and green (the hues you see during each round of play), a high optic yellow choice may be best for you. These optic hues reflect characteristic light more effectively than conventional white golf balls. Shading doesn't affect the golf ball's exhibition however can be a significant factor in certain golf players' choice procedure.

Golf Ball Construction

Strong Two-Piece - The workhorse everything being equal, amateurs should begin here. It is a strong, rubbery ball that is solid and reasonable at $18-$30 twelve. Involved a huge, uniform internal center underneath a hard spread, players can hit a "meager" or "fat" shot with less dread of parting the ball. The tradeoff is low turn or less control for more prominent separation and a more drawn out roll.

Multi-Layered or Three-Piece - Preferred by transitional players, this milder ball accomplishes a higher turn rate, and therefore, sticker price of about $28-$45 twelve. The tradeoff is more control for less separation.

Elite - Intended for low impediment players, the ball is less tough with a gentler spread for more control. The plan gives the best of the two universes - high turn and separation - at an expense of $45 to $60 per dozen. They are not suggested for learners since they cut and distort no problem at all.

Golf Ball Covering

Amateurs requiring sturdiness ought not disregard the golf ball spread. The material assumes an enormous job in deciding execution. The best three spread materials are:

Surlyn - Prized for its sturdiness, cut-opposition, separation and moderateness, it's the most generally utilized material available.

Balata - Softer and progressively costly, the material is esteemed for turn, feel and control. Nonetheless, it is bound to get scratches and cuts.

Elastomer - Used by low-handicap players, who need turn without relinquishing an excessive amount of solidness.

The climate forecast likewise impacts which ball to pick. Warm conditions can extend balls, calling for players to utilize a higher pressure. A harder ball helps in high stickiness or in low ocean level territories, where thick air eases back the ball down.

Then again, chilly climate will in general solidify the ball. Players can balance the impact by picking lower pressure balls. Milder balls likewise help in high elevations where air is more slender and there is less obstruction.

Presently It's Time To Find The Right Golf Ball For You!

Keep in mind, you can remove a couple of strokes for each round by doing just picking the right golf ball. It's a smart thought to keep a couple of each in your sack and practice with them. Figure out how they feel. Perceive how you like them. Make sense of which one to utilize so you can get an edge on your playing accomplices even before you start.

We trust you discovered this guide on choosing a golf ball supportive. We will keep on offering you increasingly supportive aides on other golf subjects to the email address you gave to assist you with turning into a far superior golf player sooner rather than later.

Don't hesitate to impart this manual for any individual who might want to figure out how to be a superior golf player. For Right Golf Balls Please Visit : https://golfiya.com/product-category/golf-balls/shop-golf-balls/golf-balls-all/

0 notes

golfuniversityau1 · 5 years

Text

Choosing The Right Golf Ball

With regards to choosing which golf ball to play, you actually have a thousand options. They extend in costs anyplace from mellow to wild. At the point when you play a ball that is appropriately fit for your game, your shot execution will improve and you will bring down your score. Each shot tallies thus does your ball, yet we regularly hear golf players state they play with "whatever is in my sack." Performance contrasts between golf ball brands and models are down changing, particularly on short game scoring shots. Playing with a similar ball model each round wipes out this exhibition variety and will assist you with hitting more greens in guideline and hit the ball nearer to the stick to change over more putts. This is one of the initial steps to building up a progressively predictable game. Keep in mind, there's just one bit of gear you use on each shot, your golf ball.

Pick A Ball That Best Fits Your Short Game

Notwithstanding ability level, golf players hit their driver just multiple times per round. Most by far of shots incorporate methodology shots, pitches and chips. For instance, on the off chance that you shoot a normal score of 90, you will hit in excess of 40 shots to the green however just 14 drives. Geniuses and novices the same shoot their best adjusts when they limit the quantity of short game shots. So select a ball that performs best for your scoring shots.

Shouldn't something be said about Swing Speed?

Ball fitting for swing rate is a fantasy. A golf ball must perform for all golf players of all swing velocities on all shots, else it won't perform for any golf player. A PGA Tour player's driver swing velocity is higher than generally beginners. However his speed on long or mid-irons might be like your driver swing speed.

Would it be advisable for me to Use What The Tour Pro's Use?

Visit players make the game look simple. Despite the fact that they may have a higher swing velocity and all the more reliably execute great swings, they are playing a similar game. Despite everything they miss greens in guideline and need to get here and there. They, as well, need to hit more shots closer to the gap. Regardless of whether you routinely shoot 80s, 90s or more than 100, you are looked with similar kinds of scoring shots on your methodologies, pitches and chips.

The distinction between Tour players and numerous novices is that they organize golf ball execution on their scoring shots. Playing with an elite ball will convert into hitting a couple of more greens in guideline and shots closer to the opening when you hit your shot the manner in which you expected. Novices and geniuses the same make a higher level of 3' putts than 12' ones.

Understanding Golf Ball Compression

There is a typical confusion that a player must match the pressure of the golf ball to their swing speed so as to appropriately "pack" the ball. Each golf player packs the golf ball on each full swing shots. Truth be told, the distinctions in the measure of pressure crosswise over driver swing velocities are for all intents and purposes undefined.

Another fantasy is that lower swing speed players will hit a lower pressure golf ball longer. No single component of golf ball configuration decides the golf ball's presentation or its separation. Pressure is a trial of the general delicateness of a golf ball and identifies with how firm or delicate a golf ball feels to a golf player. While there is no exhibition advantage to picking a particular pressure, numerous golf players (paying little mind to swing speed) do have feel inclinations. Golf players who incline toward gentler feel may favor lower pressure golf balls.

80 - Lower pressure balls are additionally the mildest. This gives a sling shot impact, which impels the ball further. However, it is more earnestly to control. Pick a golf ball with a 80 pressure rating on the off chance that you don't ordinarily drive the ball a long separation, are a lesser player, senior or lady of normal quality. The 80 pressure ball permits more slow swingers to all the more effectively pack the ball with the club face on the downswing and acquire a more prominent separation.

90 - Played by most of male players and experienced female players. The 90 pressure ball requires a quicker club head speed at effect to boost golf ball pressure and spring impact at sway. On the off chance that you don't know whether you ought to hit a 90 pressure ball versus one of a 80 rating, testing a few shots of each sort on the training extent will assist you with seeing which ball ventures more remote for your swing.

100 - The hardest pressure, this rating is most appropriate for cutting edge players with quick swing velocities. Pick a golf ball with a 100 pressure rating on the off chance that you ordinarily drive the ball in excess of 275 yards off the tee and have a quick club head speed. You will have the option to augment the separation for the majority of your shots, however will see decreased range off the tee if the club head speed isn't quick enough to accomplish the full spring impact.

Test a few appraisals of ball pressure on the training range and explain the normal separation that you hit each evaluating of ball with a similar golf club. A few players play a milder pressure rating since they have a superior vibe for hitting approach shots, so you will need to temper the separation measure against how each ball feels when hitting your wedges and short irons.

Shouldn't something be said about Choosing A Ball For Distance?

Since you will just hit 14 drives for each round, organizing a ball with the longest separation off the tee won't really assist you with bringing down your score. What's more, on the off chance that you miss the green, despite everything you need to get all over. Playing a golf ball with the best scoring presentation will assist you with shooting lower scores.

What about Spin?

Seeing how turn influences your game will assist you with picking the best golf ball. On shots with the driver, low turn will give longer and straighter drives. On shots with your long irons, lower turn produces straighter flight yet lessens halting force. In the short game, more turn gives all the more halting force into the green.

There are noteworthy execution contrasts between golf ball models, especially on the short game scoring shots. To shoot lower scores, golf players will profit by a golf ball that gives brilliant scoring turn, the turn and control expected to hit more greens nearer to the stick with irons and wedges.

Golf Ball Feel Preference

While many golf ball execution attributes, for example, separation and turn control are quantifiable at any dispatch condition, feel is an inclination decision and is profoundly emotional. Feel is player subordinate. A few golf players incline toward milder feel while others like a crisper, firmer feel. Feel is likewise shot ward. A few golf players check feel on full swing shots where others assess it on halfway swings or putts. While feel doesn't contribute legitimately to scoring execution, it is a significant thought for some golf players.

Golf Ball Color Preference

There are numerous components that add to a golf ball's appearance: dimple design, side stamp, play number, and, obviously, shading. For players who look for higher perceivability against the shades of blue and green (the hues you see during each round of play), a high optic yellow choice may be best for you. These optic hues reflect regular light more intensely than conventional white golf balls. Shading doesn't affect the golf ball's presentation yet can be a significant factor in certain golf players' determination procedure.

Golf Ball Construction

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torentialtribute · 5 years

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Rory McIlroy and Tiger Woods begin preparations for PGA Championship

Rory McIlroy and Tiger Woods begin preparations for the PGA Championship while practicing around Bethpage Black

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Published: 16:56 BST, May 13, 2019 | Rory McIlroy and Tiger Woods

Golf & # 39 ; s elite have descended on the famous track in Long Island, New York for the second major of the season with games starting on Thursday.

McIlroy and Woods have already been hit and did not waste any time learning to control the course.

<img id = "i-d14a0fe175a1c437" src = "https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/13/16/13446094 -7023379-image-a-27_1557762430227.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" Tiger Woods looked in a relaxed mood as I practiced for the PGA Championship "while practicing for the PGA Championship

Tiger Woods watched in a relaxed mood while practicing for the PGA Championship

<img id = "i-77c113aa5ae2f00" src = "https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/13/16/13446118-7023379-image-a-28_1557762441157.jpg" height = "423" width = "634" alt = "Wood was seen to get a grip on the greens on Bethpage Black in gloomy conditions "

Woods was caught grabbing the greens on Bethpage Black in gloomy conditions

<img id = "i-c28405e1d1b19126" src = "https: // i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/13/16/13446082-7023379-image-a-29_1557762446840.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" Rory McIlroy was also drawn on the court prior to playing from Thursday "Rory McIlroy was also drawn on the court before the game started on Thursday"

Rory McIlroy was also drawn on the court prior to playing from Thursday

<img id = "i-1a840ae0f6f31351" src = "https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/13/16/13446084-7023379-image -a-30_1557762448619.jpg "height =" 460 "width =" 634 "alt =" The Northern Irishman wrapped himself warm amid the gloomy conditions at Bethpage Black

[De Noord-Ier ingepakt warm te midden van de sombere omstandigheden bij Bethpage Black]

The Northern Irish wrapped up amid the gloomy conditions on Bethpage Black

Both were portrayed on Monday while they played a few holes and the possible score score mapping the dangers and danger zones of the tournament.

Woods is looking for back-to-back majors who are following his Toric success at the Masters last month and is back in the scene of his 2002 US Open victory.

The American icon led from start to finish and was the only player who underperformed in 2002 and finished sixth when the tournament returned to the same location seven years later.

Defending champion Brooks Koepka remains the player to beat, but Woods is expected to get the support of the noisy New York fans. with caddy Joe LaCava.

McIlroy would probably be the right favorite if he did not descend from another disappointing Sunday, the last in the final round of the Wells Fargo Championship, where he struck a clear end 73.

His putter dropped him at Quail Hollow and he was seen trying to fix that on Monday. McIlroy was packed for his training, he was wearing a jumper and a big bobble hat to keep the cold out.

McIlroy would probably be the favorite if he didn't get away from another disappointing Sunday "

<img id =" i-f5020b3b8ed46e44 "src =" https: / /i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/13/16/13446074-7023379-image-a-31_1557762451147.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" McIlroy would probably be the favorite

McIlroy would probably be the favorite if he didn't get away from another disappointing Sunday

American star Bryson DeChambeau was also around the course and looked pretty frustrated "

American star Bryson DeChambeau was also nearby and looked pretty frustrated

<img id = "i-c8e31d8d6acdcef4" src = "https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/13/16/13446106-7023379-image-a-33_1557762467290.jpg" height = "939" width = "634" alt = "Woods was successful in this course with success

<img id =" i-c8e31d8d6acdcef4 "src =" https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05 /13/16/13446106-7023379-image-a-33_1557762467290.jpg "height =" 939 "width =" 634 "alt =" Woods was successful in this course and it was the scene of his 2002 US Open

[British Columbia] hope that Tommy Fleetwood will approach the tournament positively, despite admitting that he is a clear disadvantage.

Fleetwood was only 11 years old when Woods won the 2002 US Open and became a professional in 2010, the year after Lucas

The 28-year-old was also not in the field when Bethpage called the Barclays tournament in 2012 and 2016 organized as part of the FedEx Cup playoffs, while his preparation was dominated by a tournament guest for the British Masters, where he fi to very highly rated eighth

& # 39; I am still never been to Bethpage & # 39 ;, said Fleetwood, who was one of the players on a flight to New York, chartered by the European Tour, who was braced two hours after the last putt in Hillside.

& # 39; I've seen it in the events on TV, but I couldn't describe a single hole for you. But we will be nice and early and I have enough time to prepare. I mean, everyone is flirting about the course, isn't it, I'm really looking forward to it.

& # 39; I generally say that every course suits me and then I see where we are going from there. I try to give a positive statement about it and then work backwards from there.

& # 39; But in general, the most important setups are the heaviest and I don't like them. I enjoy playing that golf style and I enjoy tournaments where you know you have to play well and it tests every aspect of your game.

After being held in summer in 1972, the move of the PGA championship to May should bring milder weather and more attention from American sports fans whose thoughts have turned to American football invariably by August.

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investmart007 · 6 years

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ST. LOUIS | The Latest: Rose says back OK after opening round of PGA]

New Post has been published on https://is.gd/AYIo96

ST. LOUIS | The Latest: Rose says back OK after opening round of PGA]

ST. LOUIS— The Latest on the PGA Championship, golf’s final major of the year (all times local): 7:15 p.m.

Justin Rose says the back injury that forced him to withdraw from last week’s WGC-Bridgestone Invitational didn’t cause him any problems during an opening-round 67 at the PGA Championship.

The Englishman did have a few hiccups midway through his round, but he said they didn’t have anything to do with his back. It was more a function of having not played much competitive golf the last few weeks, and trying to get back into the swing of a major championship.

If anything, the back injury that led to Rose skipping the practice rounds was a good thing.

“I kind of went out there today and had a very clear intent on what I wanted to do on every hole,” he said. “Often you can be biased how you play in practice at times, and that can influence the clubs you want to hit off the tee and what you’re comfortable doing.” ___ 6:50 p.m.

Zach Johnson thinks he benefited from being one of the only players to drop into Bellerive for a practice round last week, though not in the way you might think.

Sure, it gave him a chance to see the course early. He was able to hit some different shots into greens and check run-outs and so forth. But the real benefit came this week, when he was able to take Monday off and then play nine holes each day Tuesday and Wednesday.

He felt rested Thursday and produced a 4-under 66, two shots off the lead. Others that tried to pack more holes into their practice rounds were dragging in the hot, humid St. Louis weather. ___

6:30 p.m. Jordan Spieth spent most of his day play catch-up after a double-bogey at the first, and his 1-over 71 in the opening round of the PGA Championship left him seven shots off the pace.

Spieth arrived at Bellerive trying to complete the career grand slam, but he never seemed to get his round going. He fought back to even par after a birdie at the 15th, but a pair of wayward shots led to another bogey at the par-5 17th and a bitter taste in his mouth.

Spieth won’t have much time to figure out what went wrong. He goes off at 8:12 a.m. on Friday. ___

6:15 p.m. Gary Woodland bounced back from an opening bogey to shoot 6-under 64 on Thursday, moving him ahead of early leader Rickie Fowler in the PGA Championship at Bellerive.

Woodland was still scuffling along at 1 over until making birdie at the par-5 eighth. He added another to close out the front nine, then got hot over the final eight holes, making five birdies and steadily climbing the leaderboard on steaming afternoon.

Woodland got off to a good start last year, too. The Kansan shot 68 at Quail Hollow and was still within sight of the leaders entering the final round, when a 74 left him in a tie for 22nd. ___

6 p.m. Dustin Johnson shot 3-under 67 in the first round of the PGA Championship, a solid start for the world’s top-ranked player but one that could have been even better.

Johnson had it to 5 under on the back nine before a couple of bogeys heading in dropped him back.

Johnson said that Bellerive is playing difficult despite its wide fairways and generous greens, and that the key to getting around it in good shape is to hit those fairways off the tee.

“If you mishit it you’re not going to be in the fairway,” he said, “and if you miss the fairway you’re really going to struggle.” ___

5:40 p.m. The PGA Championship’s return to the Midwest has produced a leaderboard that has a strong flavor of players from the heartland. Topping the board at Bellerive Country Club is Rickie Fowler, the cool California who played his collegiate golf at Oklahoma State, and Gary Woodland, a Kansas native who played for the Jayhawks.

One shot back is Zach Johnson, the two-time major winner from Iowa. And another shot back is Aaron Cook, who was born in Little Rock and played his college golf for Arkansas.

Maybe it’s coincidence. Then again, maybe they have an advantage in this midwestern heat. ___ 5 p.m.

Brandon Stone ought to feel pretty good about his opening-round 66 at Bellerive, considering the way the South African started off his previous two PGA Championships.

Stone shot 79 each of the past two years and went on to miss the cut.

His four-round total in those championships? Twenty-seven over par.

Stone got around Bellerive just fine, though. He made five birdies with his only bogey on the difficult par-4 15th, getting him into the clubhouse one shot off the lead.

Not bad for someone who missed nine cuts in his first 16 tournaments this season. ___ 4:15 p.m.

The block party down the road from Bellerive is probably rocking now.

Dustin Johnson has strung together six birdies in an eight-hole stretch spanning the turn, taking the world’s top-ranked player to 5 under and into a tie for the lead at the PGA Championship.

Johnson and his fiance, Paulina Gretzky, have rented a house near the course this week, which isn’t unusual in itself. But it just so happens that this time, that home is close to the one owned by Gretzky’s parents — as in, Hall of Famer and former St. Louis Blues star Wayne Gretzky.

Johnson is tied atop the leaderboard with Rickie Fowler, who is already in the clubhouse. ___ 4 p.m. The world’s top-ranked player is one shot off the top of the leaderboard at the PGA Championship.

Dustin Johnson followed an early bogey with five birdies in a seven-hole stretch, taking him to 4 under for the tournament. Rickie Fowler posted 65 earlier in the day and remains in the lead.

Johnson has the right game for Bellerive, which is playing long and soft after rains early in the week. But his putting has also been superb, including a 15-footer for birdie at the par-4 third.

Kyle Stanley and Brandon Stone are at 3 under and still on the course. ___ 3:35 p.m.

John Daly made it through his first nine holes at the PGA without incident, and at 1 over par. Daly, whose massive following began when he won the 1991 PGA as the ninth alternate, is decked out in a white shirt and white pants covered with St. Louis Cardinals logos.

He had a chance to make the turn at even par but left a 15-foot birdie putt just short.

Rickie Fowler leads the way after shooting 5-under 65 in the morning. Dustin Johnson made the turn at 2 under and Jordan Spieth is 1 over. ___ 3 p.m. Jordan Spieth has gathered himself following a rough start, making four straight pars after starting the day with a double bogey.

In need of the PGA to complete the career grand slam, Spieth drove his opening shot into the rough, and needed two more shots to escape it en route to a 6.

Heading into the par-3 sixth, Spieth was seven back of Rickie Fowler, who played in the morning and took the lead with a 5-under 65.

Dustin Johnson, also playing in the afternoon, made three straight birdies to head into the ninth hole at 2 under. ___ 2:15 p.m. Some of the Americans trying to earn their way onto the Ryder Cup team didn’t get off to the best of starts at the PGA Championship.

That includes Phil Mickelson, though he would appear to be safe as a captain’s pick. Mickelson opened with a 73, meaning his immediate goal is to make the cut. Mickelson has qualified for every Ryder Cup team since 1995. He is No. 10 in the standings, and the top eight qualify after the PGA.

Tony Finau took a scouting trip to Paris ahead of the Sept. 28-30 matches with U.S. captain Jim Furyk. Finau, who is No. 13 in the standings, played with Furyk and shot a 74. Xander Schauffele also was in that group and after being 3 over through 10 holes, he rallied for a 70.

Bryson DeChambeau is on the bubble at No. 9 in the standings. He shot 71. Webb Simpson (No. 8) opened with a 68. ___ 2 p.m. Louis Oosthuizen has withdrawn from the PGA Championship less than an hour before his scheduled tee time, giving Kelly Kraft a spot in the field at Bellerive.

The official announcement was made about 10 minutes before Oosthuizen’s scheduled 1:59 tee time, though Kraft has been warming up in case he got just such a chance.

He joined a group along with Thomas Pieters and Bill Haas. ___

1:40 p.m. If you’re curious what those bandage-like patches were on Rory McIlroy as he grinded his way to a first-round 70 at the PGA Championship, they are designed to deal with wrist and forearm inflammation.

McIlroy said he hit a lot of extra balls last week at Firestone, trying to work on a few things before arriving at Bellerive. He wound up with a bit of soreness in his right arm that accompanied him to St. Louis.

McIlroy says it hurts “the most when I’m chipping, because I sort of hold the angle a bit,” but he doesn’t think it will affect him too much as the tournament progresses. ___

1:30 p.m. Tiger Woods says he’s just happy to still be in the tournament after a rough start at the PGA Championship, and that his goal was to “hole a few putts and grind out a score today.”

He certainly holed a few putts. But he only hit 11 of 18 greens in regulation.

As for the mid-round wardrobe change, Woods said he usually changes shirts before teeing off but there wasn’t anywhere to do it between the driving range and the 10th tee. So, he waited until he came across a portable restroom and peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt.

“I just sweat a lot,” he said with a grin. ___

1:10 p.m. Tiger Woods has rallied from a bogey-double bogey start to shoot an even-par 70, leaving him five strokes behind clubhouse leader Rickie Fowler at the PGA Championship.

Woods missed his first two fairways and dumped an approach shot in the water. But scrambled for enough pars to keep his round going, then made a pair of birdies on a bogey-free second nine. Playing partner Justin Thomas was 1 under and Rory McIlroy also was even. ___

12:25 p.m. Rickie Fowler birdie two of his final three holes to shoot 5-under 65, giving him a two-shot lead when he hit the clubhouse after his opening round of the PGA Championship.

Fowler was steady from tee to green, only missing two in regulation. He made four birdies without a bogey on his second nine, highlighted by a beautiful approach shot to the water-guarded, par-3 third that led to a 10-footer for birdie.

Aaron Cook, Ian Poulter and Pat Perez joined him in the clubhouse after rounds of 67. ___

12:10 p.m. Austin Cook is a long way from the Adams Tour victory that once earned him $4,000.

The Arkansas native shot a 3-under 67 and was the leader in the clubhouse at the PGA Championship, though Rickie Fowler had a hole left and was about to bump him from the perch.

Cook probably won’t complain. He played well enough to graduate from the Web.com Tour last year, and his stunning win in the RSM Classic earlier this year got him in the PGA Championship. It was his first win as a pro since that Adams Tour event. It paid a cool $1,116,000, too. ___ 12:05 p.m.

Tributes have been flowing right along with tears at the PGA Championship for Jarrod Lyle, who passed away overnight after a long struggle with cancer in his native Australia.

Lyle was first diagnosed with leukemia as a teenager and suffered recurrences of the disease in 2012 and 2017. He chose not to seek more treatment earlier this month.

His good friend Rickie Fowler, who was 5 under and leading the tournament, wore bright yellow much like Lyle often wore. Justin Thomas said on Twitter that “we will all be thinking of him and his family,” while countryman Jason Day said he was “deeply saddened” by Lyle’s passing.

He was survived by Briony and daughters Lusi, 6, and Jemma, 2. ___ 11:50 a.m.

Ryan Fox has posted the first red number of the PGA Championship, a 2-under 68 capped by a pair of birdies heading into the clubhouse out of the first group on the course.

The son of well-known New Zealand rugby player Grant Fox, Ryan Fox played well at the British Open at Carnoustie. He was sixth at the Scottish Open and second at the Irish Open before that.

Meanwhile, Rickie Fowler has climbed into the lead at 4 under. Fowler has three birdies on his second nine to take a one-shot lead over Stewart Cink. ___

11:25 a.m. There are few bogey-free rounds among the morning wave at Bellerive, but Hideki Matsuyama and Jason Day have a couple of them to sit 2 under and one shot off the lead.

Some thought rains early in the week that softened the course, coupled with relatively slow greens, would lead to someone going low. But there appears to be enough teeth in the length and deep rough at Bellerive that bogeys — and worse, for Phil Mickelson — are offsetting the birdies.

Lefty was 1 under through five, but a two bogeys and two doubles have him 5 over. ___

10:50 a.m. Looks as if Rickie Fowler’s on-again, off-again form carried over from last week at Firestone.

Fowler opened with a 63 at the WGC-Bridgestone Invitational, shot 74 on Friday, then had a 65 to get into contention Saturday. He finished with a 73 that dropped him into a tie for 17th. So naturally, Fowler was due for a good first round at Bellerive. And he’s delivered so far with two birdies on his second nine to reach 3 under, joining Justin Thomas and Stewart Cink in the lead.

Tiger Woods made the turn at 2 over. Tony Finau was a trendy pick given his length off the tee, but he was 4 over with four holes to play in his opening round. ___ 10:30 a.m.

Phil Mickelson’s good start has hit the skids after a double-bogey at the 15th and another bogey at the par-4 18th left him 2 over after the first nine at the PGA Championship.

His playing partners, Jason Day and Keegan Bradley, made the turn at 1 under. There are 20 teaching pros in the field this week, and Craig Hocknull is making the Southwest Section of the PGA proud. The native of Papua New Guinea, who now teaches out of Gilbert, Arizona, and at Glenwild Golf Club in Park City, Utah, was three shots back of the leader. ___

10 a.m. Justin Thomas is off to a good start as he tries to defend his PGA Championship title.

Thomas, who also won last week at Firestone, has three birdies in his first six holes and was tied atop the leaderboard with Stewart Cink among the early wave at Bellerive.

Thomas has experience defending titles. He did it at the CIMB Classic in Malaysia in 2015 and ’16.

Tiger Woods was the last player to win back-to-back PGAs in 2006 and 2007, but four other winners have followed their triumph with top-10 finishes since then. Among them have been Rory McIlroy, who was eighth in 2013, and Jason Day, who finished second two years ago at Baltusrol. ___

9:30 a.m. Perhaps experience will trump youthful exuberance at the PGA Championship this week.

With so much attention on young stars such as Justin Thomas and Jordan Spieth, it’s been the veterans who have gotten off to hot starts at Bellerive.

Forty-two-year-old Ian Poulter led the way at 3 under, and 48-year-old U.S. Ryder Cup captain Jim Furyk and 45-year-old Stewart Cink were among a group one shot back.

Another 48-year-old, Phil Mickelson, and 42-year-old Pat Perez were among a group at 1 under. ___ 9:15 a.m.

Tiger Woods changed his shirt, then set off trying to change his round.

After a bogey-double bogey start, Woods had already sweated through his shirt at Bellerive, so he stepped into a bathroom after the par-4 11th and put on a fresh shirt. He then found the fairway at the 12th and backed his approach shot to within inches for a kick-in birdie.

The weather is expected to be a factor Thursday. The forecast calls for temperatures in the mid-90s with high humidity, and that could mean insufferable conditions for those playing later in the day.

Ian Poulter was 3 under through his first six holes to take the early lead. ___

9 a.m. Tiger Woods has started bogey-double bogey at the PGA Championship, hitting wayward tee shots at his first two holes and dumping his approach shot at the par-4 11th in the water.

Woods found the thick zoysia rough right of the 10th to start the round, forcing him to hack back to the fairway. He left his par putt short and had to make a 10-footer just to save bogey.

His tee shot at the 11th found the rough left. But rather than play left of the green, where there was plenty of room, Woods’s approach at the flag was short and bounced into a greenside pond.

After his drop, Woods pitched onto the green and two-putted for double.

Playing partner Justin Thomas opened with a birdie. Rory McIlroy was even. ___ 8:25 a.m.

Tiger Woods has survived his first PGA Championship test: making it to the tee.

Massive crowds greeted Woods at his first PGA since 2015, all clamoring for a glimpse of him as he walked from the practice range to the first hole at Bellerive Country Club.

The gallery in some places was more than a dozen deep. He flared that opening tee shot into the deep rough right of the 10th fairway, forcing him to chop back to the short stop. It was an inauspicious start given the wide avenues at Bellerive.

Woods is playing in a feature group with defending champion Justin Thomas and Rory McIlroy. ___ 6:50 a.m.

The 100th PGA Championship has begun in stifling summer heat.

Club pro Michael Block hit the opening tee shot down the middle at Bellerive Country Club. The course is playing long and soft because of rain Tuesday and temperatures in the 90s that require PGA officials to keep water on the greens.

The PGA Championship moves to the middle of May next year.

Tiger Woods, defending champion Justin Thomas and Rory McIlroy are getting most of the attention from the morning side of the draw.

Block is among 20 club pros who qualified for this major. He is the first club pro in six years to qualify for the U.S. Open and PGA Championship in the same year.

By Associated Press

#champion Justin #Championship #Championship title #Latest news #Louis Oosthuizen #Michael Block #PGA Championship #Rickie Fowler #sports news #st louis #TodayNews

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