#Last Minute Golf Tee Times

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Not a Golfer, Just a Guy in Love | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader [Face Claim: None]

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Summary: Charles has no business on a golf course, but he’s willing to lose every ball (and his dignity) if it means getting her attention

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check out my other works: Masterlist

Carlos leaned back in his chair, idly spinning a golf ball between his fingers as he glanced at you with a grin. “Alright, hermana, tomorrow morning? New golf course, 9 AM sharp?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Carlos, we both know you’ll show up at least fifteen minutes late.”

“Not this time!” he declared. “This course is legendary. Plus, you need the practice.”

“Oh, so now I’m the one who needs practice?” You shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. “Last time, I recall someone missing the hole five times in a row.”

Lando snickered from across the table, catching the end of the conversation. “Five times, Carlos? At this rate, maybe I should join to show you both how it’s done.”

Carlos threw him a mock glare. “Fine, come along, then. Just don’t cry when I show you up.”

“Sure thing, mate,” Lando replied, folding his arms with a smirk.

Charles, sitting nearby and pretending to read a magazine, couldn’t help but eavesdrop. He tried to keep his cool, but every time you were around, it was a little harder than he’d like to admit. And now here you were, laughing and planning a whole day with Carlos and Lando.

He cleared his throat, stepping over as casually as he could manage. “Hey, so… golf tomorrow, huh?”

Carlos looked up, surprised. “Yep. Why?”

“I was just, uh, thinking,” Charles replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “Maybe I could join you guys.”

Carlos exchanged a glance with Lando, one eyebrow raised. “You? play golf?”

“Yes, I want to play golf,” Charles said, trying to sound like he wasn’t feeling a bit defensive.

Lando let out a small laugh. “Didn’t you once call golf ‘slow torture’?”

“That was a joke,” Charles shot back. “I’m serious. I want to come.”

Carlos looked skeptical. “Right… I mean, you’re welcome, but don’t blame us if it doesn’t go well.”

Charles shrugged, keeping his face neutral. “I’ll be fine.”

The next morning, Charles showed up at the course looking like he’d just stepped out of a golf magazine—crisp polo, checkered pants, even a visor.

Lando barely stifled a laugh. “Who let you dress for the occasion?”

Charles ignored him, glancing over at you. You shot him a smile, making the whole get-up feel somewhat worth it. “I, uh, thought I’d try to look the part.”

Carlos shook his head, trying to hide a grin. “Alright, Lord Percival, let’s see if you can play the part too.”

Charles rolled his shoulders, looking toward the first hole with as much focus as he could muster. He approached the tee, adjusted his grip, tried to channel every golf tip he’d seen on youtube last night—and took the shot.

The ball barely moved, skittering a few feet in front of him.

Lando’s laugh echoed through the course. “Great form, mate. Maybe take a little less ‘concentration’ next time?”

Carlos clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.

Charles clenched his jaw, trying to maintain what little dignity he had left. “It was just the first shot,” he muttered. “Just warming up.”

The next hole wasn’t any better. Charles lined up the shot with as much precision as possible, determined not to make a fool of himself this time.

He swung with a bit too much force—the ball shot out in the wrong direction, rocketing just past Carlos, who ducked, wide-eyed.

Carlos straightened up, hands on his hips as he shot Charles a look. “Are you trying to kill me, or is this your idea of revenge for something?”

Charles cringed, face flushed. “That one… got away from me.”

Lando was practically doubled over, wiping tears from his eyes. “A little? That ball was gunning for Carlos’s head!”

You, meanwhile, gave Charles an encouraging smile. “Hey, at least you’re putting a lot of power into it.”

Charles managed a small, sheepish smile. “Right. Just need to aim better.”

By the third hole, Charles was already looking worse for wear. Sand stuck to his pants, his hair was a mess from the visor, and he’d lost count of how many near-misses he’d had.

Carlos nudged Lando, grinning. “Maybe we should get him a map, just so he can find the right direction.”

“Or a helmet for the rest of us,” Lando added, smirking.

Charles let out a low groan, feeling more than a little defeated. “You two are hilarious,” he muttered, pulling his visor off and running a hand through his hair.

You gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Hey, you’re doing fine. Just… maybe think about where you want the ball to go before you swing.”

“Trust me, I am,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. But the look you gave him was enough to pull a half-smile from him. He was feeling like an absolute disaster out here, but somehow, your encouragement made it all seem less embarrassing.

On the final hole, Charles finally managed to get a decent shot in… except that it went straight for the trees, ricocheted off a branch, and landed almost exactly where it had started.

Carlos was in tears. “Charles, Lord Percival, please stop. I don’t think I can handle any more of this.”

Lando patted Carlos on the back, barely holding back his laughter. “Maybe golf really is slow torture for him.”

Charles sighed, looking down at the golf club in defeat. He glanced over at you, feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

But you just grinned, nudging his arm. “You know what, I think i've had enough golf for one day”

He looked at you, blinking. “Wait, really?”

You nodded, looking at Carlos and Lando, who were now fully engrossed in trash-talking each other’s swings. “Yep. And since they’re busy, maybe we should… escape?”

His expression brightened. “Escape?”

“Yeah,” you replied, shooting him a playful look. “We could go get ice cream or something and leave them to their nonsense.”

Charles chuckled, offering you his arm. “Now that sounds like something I can actually do.”

You and Charles settled on a bench a little away from the green, watching Carlos and Lando trying to one-up each other’s swings. The peacefulness of the ice cream break was a much-needed relief after Charles’s disastrous attempt at playing, and the two of you chuckled quietly as Carlos threw his arms up dramatically over a missed shot.

After a few moments, you glanced at Charles, breaking the silence. “So, be honest… why’d you really want to come today?”

He looked startled, caught in the middle of a spoonful. “What—me?” he stammered, almost dropping his ice cream. “I mean… golf looked… fun?”

You raised an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at your lips. “Golf looked fun?”

“Okay,” he admitted, letting out a nervous laugh. “Maybe it’s not exactly my thing.”

“Not exactly?” you teased. “Charles, I’m pretty sure you nearly took Carlos out on the second hole. It’s okay to say you’re not a golf person. especially since in all the years I've known you I’ve never seen you voluntarily pick up a golf club before today”

He blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well�� it’s more than just that.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, waiting for him to go on.

Charles seemed to wrestle with himself, glancing away and then back at you, his cheeks a little pinker. “It’s just… I always see you out here with Carlos and thought, maybe if I… tagged along, we’d get to… you know… hang out a bit.”

You stared at him, surprised. “You… wanted to come just to spend time with me?”

He gave a small, almost embarrassed smile, nodding. “Yeah. Kind of.”

A blush crept over your cheeks. You looked down at your ice cream, trying not to grin too obviously. “You didn’t have to put yourself through this just for that, you know,” you said softly, glancing back at him.

Charles fumbled, looking even more awkward. “I didn’t know what else to do… You’re always out here with Carlos. And, I don’t know, I thought maybe… if I didn’t make a complete fool of myself, you’d… notice.”

You laughed softly, heart fluttering a bit at the admission. “Trust me, I noticed.” You paused, gathering your thoughts. “But honestly… I’m only here because Carlos insists. He’d drag me out here even if I showed up in pajamas.”

He looked at you, surprised. “Wait—you don’t even like golf?”

You shook your head, grinning. “Not at all. But he acts like I’ll be abandoning him if I say no.”

Charles blinked, looking a bit stunned. “So you’re telling me I didn’t have to go through all of… this?” He gestured to the course in mock agony, earning a laugh from you.

“Not even a little bit,” you said, nudging him. “If I’d known you wanted to hang out, we could’ve done something… less painful.”

He let out a sigh, putting his head in his hands with a dramatic groan. “Great. So I’ve made a total fool of myself and I didn’t even have to.”

You giggled, gently patting his shoulder. “You’re not a fool. Just… maybe a bit misguided.” You took a breath, glancing at him shyly. “But… it’s kind of sweet that you went through all this just to spend time together.”

He looked at you with a mix of hope and nerves. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You felt your heart pound a little faster, fighting the urge to look away. “I mean, it’s… actually really cute.”

Charles seemed to brighten, his smile turning a bit bashful. “I’m glad you think so. Because, well… I was actually kind of hoping… maybe we could do something else? Just the two of us?”

Your heart flipped, and you felt yourself flush. “Like… a date?”

Charles swallowed, his face a deep shade of pink, but he met your gaze. “Yeah. A date.”

A smile spread across your face, and you nudged him gently. “I’d like that.”

He grinned, looking so relieved you couldn’t help but laugh. “Just promise it won’t involve golf?” he asked, giving you a playful, hopeful look.

“Deal,” you replied, grinning. “Maybe next time, we can do something we’re both good at.”

As you both sat there, sharing quiet laughs and stealing glances at each other, Carlos and Lando’s loud arguing over putts became just background noise. For the first time all day, Charles felt like maybe things were going exactly the way they were supposed to.

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[baigepueckers]

Caitlin Clark X Reader

Love on the Back Nine

You’re sitting at the kitchen table with your phone buzzing in your hand as you scroll through your messages. You’d made plans earlier to hit the mall with a friend but they just canceled at the last minute, leaving you with an empty afternoon. You sigh already silently debating whether to just stay in or come up with something else to do.

Cait has been pacing around the living room, messing with her golf gear when she catches your sigh. She looks over her eyes lighting up as if a lightbulb just went off in her head.

“Plans fall through?” she asks walking over and leaning on the back of the chair across from you.

“Yeah” you reply, setting your phone down. “Guess I’m stuck here now.”

“Stuck here?” Caitlin grins like she’s been waiting for this opening. “Or… you could come golfing with me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not this again.”

“Come on” she says circling the table to stand beside you. “It’s perfect! You’ve got nothing else to do, and I’ve got a tee time. Plus I need a partner.”

You arch a brow at her. “Partner? Or someone to show off for?”

“Baby, I would never show off.” she says, though the twinkle in her eyes suggests otherwise. She leans down..her face close to yours. “I’ll be your personal coach. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. It’ll be fun, just you and me.”

You snort. “You’re gonna be my personal golfer girl?...”

“Yep, that’s what I’m here for!” she says, straightening up. “I’ll start you off slow. Show you how to hold the club, line up your shots by the end of the day, you’ll be killing it.”

You tilt your head, amused. “And if I’m awful?”

She places a hand over her heart, her voice turning sweet. “Then I’ll still love you, even if you’re the worst golfer in history.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “I don’t know…”

“Please, baby?” Caitlin moves behind you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and resting her chin on top of your head. “It’ll be a cute little date. Just us, cruising around in a golf cart soaking up the sun. I’ll even let you pick the music for the ride.”

You glance up at her. “The entire playlist?”

She grimaces but nods. “Even your cringy guilty pleasure songs.”

You bite your lip pretending to reconsider. “Tempting...”

“Fine…what if I throw in ice cream after?” she adds, giving you her best puppy dog eyes. “I’ll even let you pick the place.”

You laugh finally giving in. “Okay baby, but I call driving the golf cart!”

Caitlin beams, pressing a kiss to your cheek before pulling you up from your chair. “Whatever… you’re gonna love it, I promise.”

The drive to the course is filled with Caitlin’s nonstop chatter. She’s clearly hyped, between explaining the different clubs and teasing you about being a great coach. “I bet you’ll nail at least one shot today” she says with a wink. “And when you do, I’ll totally take credit for it.”

You shake your head and laugh. “Sure, Coach Clark.”

When you arrive Cait wastes no time, guiding you through the basics. She hands you a club and positions herself behind you, her hands gently adjusting your grip. “Okay babe, so just relax” she says, her voice low and soothing. “Keep your eye on the ball, and follow through like this.”

You nod letting her guide you for the first few swings. The shots are decent, but nothing impressive. Caitlin cheers you on regardless, offering tips and encouragement with every swing. You can tell she’s enjoying herself, and honestly you’re having fun with her. But then it’s your turn to take a real shot.

You step up lining up your stance and gripping the club just right. You take a deep breath, then swing with confidence. The ball soars through the air landing cleanly on the green.

Caitlin’s jaw drops. “Wait, what?”

You suppress a grin as she rushes over to you. “That was perfect!” she says, wide eyed. “Do it again.”

You shrug pretending it was a fluke, but your next shot is just as good. Caitlin stares at you, clearly in disbelief. “Okay seriously babe….where did this come from?”

You bite your lip, hesitating for a moment before dropping the bomb. “Well… my ex taught me...”

Caitlin freezes her expression shifting from shock to a mix of disgust and mild jealousy. “Your ex?”

You nod, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, they made me go to the driving range almost every other weekend.”

She groans dramatically throwing her head back. “Ew, Y/N! Why would you tell me that?”

“You asked!” you say laughing at her reaction.

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect that answer,” she grumbles crossing her arms. “Now I’m picturing some loser trying to impress you on the course. Gross.”

You grin stepping closer. “Jealous?”

“No” she says quickly, though the slight flush in her cheeks tells a different story. “I just think it’s weird that anyone else ever got to teach you anything. That’s my job.”

You wrap your arms around her waist pulling her close. “Well baby, for what it’s worth…I like being out here with you way more.”

She softens, her pout fading into a smile. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me now and for the record, I’m way cooler than your ex.”

“Oh, way cooler,” you agree leaning in to kiss her.

For the rest of the game Cait makes it her mission to outdo you…though she can’t help but laugh whenever you land another perfect shot. By the end of the day she’s both impressed and annoyed.

“You totally hustled me, darlin..” she says as you load the clubs back into the car.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you sweat a little” you tease grinning.

She wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you walk. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You lean into her smiling. “And you’re lucky I love you, even when you’re a sore loser.”

She laughs squeezing you tighter against. “Next time I’m bringing my A-game so you better be ready.”

“Oh, I’ll be ready.”

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was miserable without you, and the pain just wasn't lessening even though you left him weeks ago. He needed to find a way to move on, because you didn't want him, and you weren't coming back. But he should have known there was no substitute for the best thing he'd ever had.

Warnings: Swears, broken heart, angst, consensual sex, sex with a condom while intoxicated (18+)

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Weeks later...

As you flew to Vancouver from Detroit, you thought about that six hour flight to Boston where you hadn't stopped crying for a single minute. You thought about leaving San Diego and how it broke your heart to move on to the next city and the next assignment. At least this time you had a window seat instead of the middle seat in the last row. And this time you weren't continually wiping your tears on Bradley's Padres jersey. 

You had his jersey on again today, but this time you felt calm as you reached into your bag to take out your computer and read over the research you'd outlined about the Vancouver Canucks. Your eyes caught on the blue golf ball, and after a second of hesitation, you reached for that instead. 

You'd taken it everywhere with you. It joined you in every hotel room, on every flight and in every rental car. You had it with you in your tote bag when you were in Boston about a month ago working on the exclusive with the Bruins' coaching staff. You were carrying it when you bumped into Abigail Archer for the first time in person. 

With your article completely forgotten now, you dug your phone out of your pocket. It was in airplane mode, but you took a deep breath and unlocked it. You had to scroll a bit to get to the text thread with Bradley, and then you tapped his name and you almost let the tears rise to the surface. You held them back as you read the series of sporadic messages he'd sent you since early November.

I miss you. 

Did you make it to Boston safely?

Ace, please call me back. I miss you so much. 

I have this whole weekend off, and I can't help but think it would be easy for me to fly to wherever you are. If you would want that. 

I still miss you.

I hope you're doing well.

You hadn't responded to a single one of them. And you never called him back either. But sometimes, when you were in a hotel room in a city that you couldn't even identify without looking at your calendar app, you'd get lonely enough to listen to his voicemail message. See ya, Ace.

It took until you met Bradley Bradshaw for you to really understand just how lonely you were. Going back to your apartment in New York City didn't feel like going home. There was nothing there that made you smile. There were no baseball cards or too small Angels tee shirts. There was no Bradley making sure you were taking a break when you needed one. 

And he was part of the reason why you let yourself start to be convinced that you could have more out of your career. Maybe he was right. Somebody else might have something better to offer than Greg or the New York Times. When you talked to Abigail and started to test the waters, it wasn't as terrifying as you thought it would be. Making some calls to see what else was out there ended up validating one fact for you: Bradley was right, your writing was in high demand.

But you had to complete your contract with Greg before you could do much else. And that included Detroit and Vancouver. But you hoped after this, your work-life balance might improve. If you decided to take this information back to Bradley, you hoped he would listen to you. Maybe he would even see what you wrote about your career change in your Detroit Red Wings article. If he was even still reading your articles. There was a chance he might still miss you now, and maybe he'd understand that you needed to see the bigger picture for yourself first. 

Before you left him alone in his bed, he told you that you knew where to find him. He made you feel like it was still okay to go there.

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Bradley walked past his coffee table dressed in his flight suit with his travel mug of coffee in his hand. He paused at the front door and looked back at the mess he still couldn't bring himself to clean up. You left him weeks ago, damn near a month ago, but he just couldn't bring himself to clean up all of the fucking baseball cards. 

He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. He was being ridiculous. He was never ridiculous before he met you, so you must have made him this way. Every time he tried to clean them up and put them back out in his garage, his hands faltered and he left the cards out on the table. It was like some sort of sick reminder that you'd really been here with him. It was a way to convince himself he didn't imagine up the perfect woman in his mind and then have to live through the aftermath of watching her leave. 

He tightened his fingers around his mug and rubbed the heel of his other hand against his eyes. Then he took his phone out. He knew he shouldn't do it since you never answered his other messages before, but he texted you anyway. 

I hope you're doing well.

When he re-read what he'd sent, he started to panic. It sort of sounded like he meant it with an air of finality. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he didn't want to hear from you, because it was quite the opposite. There were times when he felt so lonely, he'd have done anything for you to write to him or call him back. 

He swore he could still smell you in his house, and right now it felt a little too much like you were there. He wrenched his front door open and slammed it closed behind him, breathing in the crisp December morning air. He had to start making some changes, and he needed to do it this week. You weren't going to respond to him. After four weeks he should accept that as a fact and stop bugging you. 

He'd been skipping Hard Deck nights and leaving the locker room after work without really talking to anyone. Nat knew why he was miserable, but even she seemed surprised it had gone on for this long. 

A few days ago, she said, "You've never behaved like this over a woman before. This has all just been very surprising, and I don't know how to help you."

Bradley had shrugged and laughed sarcastically. "Well, I fell in love with her. First time for everything, right? I'll know better for next time."

And that was the truly fucked up part. He had fallen in love with you over the course of ten days. As he drove to work, he thought about your face and your voice. He knew exactly how many miles he put on his Bronco driving back and forth to see you at the games in Anaheim. He knew exactly how much money he spent on all the tickets. He knew how badly it hurt right now to be without you. And he knew he'd repeat everything all over again if he could see you for five minutes. 

Just like every other day, he had to collect himself before he could head inside to the locker room. There was no getting his time with you back. There was no second chance. There was no communication. He needed to stop. He took off his aviators that you'd liked so much and set them in his cup holder. When he checked the time on his phone, he had a notification that a new article from you had been posted eight minutes ago. It was like this every day. He'd wait to see each morning if you'd written anything, and then after it was posted, he'd read it at least three times. 

Your final World Series article was the worst one. It was released two days after you left. He must have read it a hundred times. He'd even take a screenshot of the short passage he was certain was about him.

This World Series was exciting and dynamic for so many reasons. We witnessed some of the best major league pitching in the last decade, and there were more stolen bases than the past three finals combined. Professionally, I may never witness anything like this again. And I can even tell you that on a personal level, I was profoundly changed for the better by everything I allowed myself to experience and enjoy between San Diego and Anaheim over the course of the series.

Bradley looked at his phone screen now. It had to stop. He desperately wanted to read your article on the Detroit Red Wings, but he needed to make this feeling stop. It was like he was constantly in pain every time he thought about you or even simply read your name on his phone. Your written words were never going to help him move on, so he needed to do something about it right now while he felt like he could. 

He deleted the New York Times app. He thought about deleting your number as well, but he needed to save some of his strength to get through his workday. So he just tucked his phone in his pocket and climbed out of the Bronco.

---------------------------

When Bradley walked into the Hard Deck on Friday night after work, he felt defeated and exhausted. He managed to delete the app you wrote for, but he still couldn't bring himself to delete your phone number. Moving on was a necessity right now. He didn't even know why he bothered to come to the bar, but staying home and looking at baseball cards on his coffee table didn't seem to be helping him. 

"You're here!" Nat called out as soon as he walked inside. The bar was decorated for Christmas. Was it that close to the holidays? He'd completely lost track of the weeks, but at the same time, he knew exactly how many days it had been since he'd seen you. His mind was too aware of that number, and it tacked a new one on each day. 

"Hey," Bradley managed to grunt when his friend came over to him and wrapped him up in a hug. The Christmas tree and the strings of lights blurred, and he had to close his eyes. He was missing the feel of your arms around him and the way you smelled. None of this was Nat's fault or anyone's fault really. Bradley didn't even blame you. He couldn't. You and he were nothing. 

"Let me get you a drink," Nat whispered, and she took him by the hand. He recognized the upbeat Christmas song, and he saw the guys waving from the pool table. But when he turned to face the bar, Shannon was right there with her usual smile and a pint glass in her hand. He didn't know why he wasn't expecting her. The last time he saw her was when he brought you here, and he'd give anything to go back to that night. 

Bradley just shook his head. "Something stronger. Please." Shannon raised one eyebrow at him and set the pint glass down in favor of a whiskey tumbler and a bottle of Johnnie Walker. "Yeah."

"Haven't seen you around in a few weeks," she said, watching the amber liquid slosh neatly up the side of the glass as she poured. "Kinda missed you." She met his eyes as she pushed the glass across the bar. "You look so sad."

He held eye contact with her, trying his best to push the intrusive thoughts away. "Maybe I'll be around more now," he muttered, downing the whole drink in one go and setting the glass down again. 

Shannon was familiar to him. Comfortable. He'd been messing around with women for damn near two decades without any deep feelings. You were really his first foray into something... more. But you were gone. You didn't want to talk to him. You weren't coming back.

She refilled his glass and said, "Take this one a little slower, Bradley." He nodded before downing it just like the first one, and she kind of smirked and shook her head. "You'll pay for this in the morning."

He laughed sardonically. "That's the idea." He left the empty glass on the bar with a little nod indicating that he would be back. He desperately needed to clear his head, but he'd been trying everything for weeks. Taking a walk outside, having a cold shower, going for a drive. Nothing fucking helped. 

He needed to forget the feel of your body and the sound of your voice. So he drank an extravagant amount of Johnnie Walker on Nat's tab, and he started to feel looser. He laughed at her when she asked how many he had so far. 

"Don't worry. I'll pay you back," he rasped with a smile that he knew could charm every woman except for his best friend. 

She just rubbed her hand up and down his arm and said, "I hope you know what you're doing. Let me know when you want me to get you home."

He kissed her cheek. "I'm fine, Nat. Just fine." He finished his tumbler and tried to remember if that was his fifth or his sixth, but it didn't matter. He was warm now, and his lips were a little numb. This was exactly what he needed tonight. After he shot a round of pool and lost, he flipped through the jukebox, but it was all bullshit Christmas music. He wasn't in the mood. He thought about playing the piano, but there was an empty stool at the bar now, so he headed in that direction.

"One more?" Bradley asked Shannon as he sat, and she reached out to touch his cheek.

"You sure you really need one?"

"Yep," he said, swallowing against the lump in his throat as she swam out of focus for a split second. "Just one more. It'll make it easier." 

She turned away from him to get one more clean glass. Then she filled it for him. "Thanks, Shannon," he muttered when she set it down in front of him. He was leaning on his propped up hand, and he knew she was kind of pretty. But he knew you were prettier and funnier and smarter. 

"You can't have what you want," he mumbled to himself after Shannon walked away. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it and just looked at the screen. Delete it. He had to. He opened his contacts, and there you were right at the fucking top. 

Ace

You'd always be at the top, wouldn't you? 

Instead of deleting your number, he sent you a text before he could reconsider. 

Ace, I fell in love with you.

Fuck. Fuck! You didn't want him. And there was no way to take that message back now. He closed his eyes and shook his head, because he couldn't tell if he was about to cry or laugh. He was fucking miserable. Truly, he'd never experienced this before, and it hurt like hell. His thumb hovered over your name once again, but he couldn't delete it. He drank the whiskey and tried again. But still nothing. 

He watched Shannon move around behind the bar. She wasn't you. She wasn't what he wanted, but when she announced that it was last call, she made her way over to him. 

"But no more for you," she teased, reaching to take his glass away. But he had her wrist in his hand before he registered what he was doing. She looked a little surprised. The tears were in his eyes again, but maybe it wasn't so obvious to her. He couldn't say the words. He needed her to be the one. When he licked his lips, she leaned a little closer. "I'm done in fifteen. Are you interested? Or are you too drunk?"

He took a deep breath as his eyes closed. He needed to try to move on. The pain needed to stop, or else he didn't know what he would do. Right now he was numb enough. It was now or never. "I'm interested."

Bradley was very aware of what he was doing, it just vaguely seemed like someone else was doing it. He gave his keys to Shannon once they were outside. "Remember where I live?" he asked, walking toward the Bronco. 

"Of course I do," she whispered. 

He found himself with his back against the passenger side door with Shannon's lips on his. It felt fine. Would probably feel better the more he got used to it again. He could do this. He kissed her back and told her to drive, because he knew he shouldn't. 

She drove and parked and took him by the hand, leading him inside his house. As soon as he saw the baseball cards, he wanted to upend his coffee table. He wanted to do this and get it over with and go to sleep for a week. And if he didn't feel better after that, then he didn't know what he was going to do. 

When Shannon tried to turn on his bedroom light, he took her hand in his and guided it away from the switch. "Too bright," he mumbled, and she started to get undressed. He stumbled across the hallway to the bathroom and closed the door. When he looked in the mirror, he'd never seen anything quite so pitiful. He splashed a little water on his face, but it just made his flushed cheeks stand out more. He dug around under the sink for some condoms he thought he still had. When his hand closed around the box, he sat back against the wall and cried. 

He had no idea how long he was in the bathroom. He took his shirt off and used it to wipe his face. You didn't want him. He went back to his bedroom where Shannon was naked on his bed, her skin glowing in the light filtering in from the bathroom where he forgot to flip the switch off.

"Fuck," he grunted, running his fingers through his hair. But she must have taken that as a sign that he was ready to go. He wasn't, but he told himself he was. She touched him, and he let her. She kissed him some more, and he let her do that, too. He reciprocated. He knew to do that much. But it didn't feel like anything. He fucked her, but it just wasn't right. And then he fell asleep with a throbbing head and an aching heart and the wrong woman next to him. 

-----------------------

It had been years since Bradley had a hangover. When he opened his eyes, his left arm was hanging off of his bed, and his face was halfway smashed in his pillow. His mouth was completely dry, and he tried to press his lips together and swallow. He had no idea how he got home or what time it was. 

"Oh, shit," he groaned. He texted you last night. When he was sitting at the bar. He was pretty sure he told you he fell in love with you. He knew you wouldn't write back. You must have blocked his number by now. He was probably texting nobody by this point, but it still hurt like hell that you didn't want him the way he wanted you.

Then he remembered what he did after he texted you, and the bile rose in his throat so quickly. Shannon was right there next to him when he turned his head. He let her sleep over. He never let her sleep over before this. She was in your spot. He needed her gone immediately. 

"Hey," he grunted, his throat like sandpaper. "Shannon. You need to leave." 

She rolled over and glared at him. "Still tired," she whispered, completely naked in his bed. 

"Please," he begged. He was so fucking stupid, it was incredible. Now he was miserable and hungover and angry with himself. "I need you to."

She sighed and stretched, and Bradley made a beeline for the bathroom, stepping on a condom wrapper on the way. At least there was that. Then he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He sat back against the wall for a few minutes, afraid there might be more he had to throw up. He knew his head was throbbing due more to the fact that he regretted everything he did last night with Shannon than him drinking most of a bottle of whiskey. 

There was tapping on the door. "If you want me to leave, I need to use the bathroom."

"Give me a minute," he groaned, standing up and looking at himself in the mirror. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked pale. When he brushed his teeth, he felt the tears burning behind his eyes once again. Was this ever going to stop? It had been more than a month. 

Bradley rinsed his mouth and opened the door, barely looking at Shannon as she walked past him, still naked. He went back into his bedroom for a pair of clean underwear and some gym shorts and fought the urge to put all of his bedding in the washing machine. He couldn't even be in here right now, so he left for the kitchen. And he passed the fucking baseball cards again. He would have to throw them away or ask someone to come get them, because he needed them gone as much as he needed Shannon to leave. 

As he turned on his coffee maker, he heard someone knocking on his front door. He already wanted this fucking day to end. He tried not to look at the baseball cards as he passed the table and wrenched his front door open, and then his jaw dropped in surprise.

"Bradley. Hi."

He braced his hand against the door frame as he looked at you standing there on his tiny porch. You were wearing his Padres jersey. He had to be hallucinating. This had to be a dream. You were here.

"Ace."

He watched your face light up at the nickname, and you laughed softly as you examined him like you'd been dying to see him. He gripped the doorframe a little harder as he reached his other hand out to cup your chin and feel your silky skin.

"Holy shit, Baby. What are you doing here?" His heart was pounding, but he felt somehow normal again. Just like he had five weeks ago before you left him in a state of panic. 

"I came to see you." He stroked his thumb along your lip, but you didn't back away. In fact you took a tiny step closer as you added, "I have to be up in Anaheim tomorrow afternoon for some Ducks interviews, but I wanted to see you first. I thought we could talk."

Your eyes were open and earnest, and Bradley felt weak as he looked at his jersey on you. He let his hand drop away from your face, because he had no idea what to say to you right now. He had convinced himself he'd never see you again. "Did you get my texts? Or did you block my number?"

You pressed your lips together and then whispered, "I got your texts. And I've listened to your voicemail a lot. I've missed you." Bradley watched you smile tentatively and give him a little shrug. 

"You missed me," he said in disbelief. "And you got my messages. And you missed me. And you're wearing my jersey."

You looked down at yourself and laughed. "I've been wearing pretty frequently, actually. Turns out I don't have a dress code at my new office, which ironically is in Houston now, but I hardly ever have to be there in person."

When you met his eyes again, he asked. "New office?" He was so confused as he reached out and stroked your cheek with his fingers again just to try to make sure you were still real. 

"Yeah," you said softly, taking another step closer to him. "I have you to thank for that. I have you to thank for a lot of things." You bit your lip before you said, "I left the New York Times. I just finished my last assignment for Greg yesterday. I'm working on a brand new piece now. I actually begged my new employer to let me come back to California for the Anaheim Ducks article even though it's a bit of a fluff piece, because it meant I could come here and tell you that I'm happier now."

"You are?" he asked, unsure what you meant by that. He was having a hard time listening to your voice and looking at your face at the same time, and he wondered how he'd managed ten days in your presence for the World Series. You were just so overwhelmingly perfect. 

"Yes, Bradley. You made me think about my career, and I kind of took the time to change some of my priorities. Because if there's a man as incredible as you who is willing to take a chance on me, then I can take the same kind of chance on myself."

"Ace."

You smiled up at what he was sure was a look of longing on his face. "I'm working for Velocity Report now, and I'm going to have a lot more time off between assignments. Which is important, because you reminded me that I need to take breaks and eat and take care of myself. Even when you're not around."

"I loved doing that for you," he gasped, suddenly dying to kiss you. 

"Yeah, well, you were really good at it," you said as your smile faded a little bit. "But that's why I'm here. To tell you all of this in person. You deserve to hear it in person instead of over the phone, especially since I never responded to you. I wanted to, but I just wasn't ready until now. And I don't know if you read what I said about you in my Detroit Red Wings article... but, I still miss you. And I love you."

His heart was pounding so hard, he thought he was going to pass out. "You love me?" he asked, absolutely needing you to say it again for him as your eyes drifted to where the box of baseball cards was still out on the coffee table. 

Your smile grew as you reached out for his hand and tugged him closer like you were going to kiss him. "Yes, I do. I love-"

Bradley heard a noise behind him, and his heart sank as his eyes went wide. You were looking off to the side, and he heard Shannon's voice. "Oh, sorry." He turned to see her with a puzzled look on her face. He had completely forgotten she was even here. After a few minutes in your presence, you were the only thing that mattered.

"Oh my god," you gasped, wrenching yourself away from Bradley. "Oh, fuck." You looked at him with your hands on your forehead and tears in your eyes. "You know what? Forget I was even here. I'm sorry," you gasped, turning on your heel and walking full speed across his yard to the black car that was parked at his curb. 

It took him a second, but then he was right behind you. "Ace! No, Baby, you don't understand." But it didn't look like you were listening as you dug the keys to your rental car out of your pocket. "Ace! Please!" He ran barefoot out onto the street to try to beat you to the car door, but you were too fast. When he reached for your hand and spun you around to face him, you had tears streaming down your cheeks. 

He was frozen, clinging to your hand as you whispered, "She's the bartender. I should have never come here."

"No," he begged, stepping into your personal space, but you kept dodging him. "It's nothing. I want you here. I need you here."

But you pulled your hand free and reached for the door handle as you sobbed, and it broke Bradley's heart. "I need to go."

He was ready to drop to his knees. "She doesn't mean anything, Ace! Please! I missed you too, Baby! I've been miserable without you, okay? You have no idea." 

You wouldn't even look at him now as you pushed him out of the way so you could climb in the car. He felt all of his dreams slipping through his fingers twice now as you slammed the door closed, started the engine and drove.

"Ace!" he shouted running alongside your door until you hit the accelerator and left him standing in the middle of his street without shoes on. "Ace. I love you," he whispered as you turned left at the end of his block, and then you were out of sight. 

Bradley sank down until he was squatting with his face buried in his palms. "Fuck!" he screamed, the sound only slightly muffled as he jumped up to his feet and made his way back to his house where Shannon was standing on his porch. She looked disgusted as another car pulled up in front of his house. 

"Why are we sleeping together if you're clearly in love with her?" she asked, barely looking at him as she headed toward her Uber. "You should go take care of that."

As Bradley watched her away, he tried to pinpoint exactly how he'd fucked all of this up. He wondered if there was any way to fix it. Once again, he couldn't breathe correctly as that crushing feeling returned to his lungs. This feeling has vanished for those few minutes he was with you again.

"Maybe you don't even deserve her," he told himself as he walked back inside alone, thinking about how for a minute there, you'd loved him back.

------------------------------

Oh, Bradley. Oh, you sweet thing. Should I add one more part? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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[brahmsthirdracket]

Hello! I recently came across your hughes brothers fics and binge read most of them last night :). Would you be open to writing anything about the time Luke said quinn ripped jack’s braces out of his mouth? (If you’re not taking requests feel free to ignore this!!!)

Luke never feels like eating much before cross-country. He likes it fine - he likes it more than fine actually, at least compared to Jack and Quinn, because it’s one of the few things he’s better at than them - but the thought of slogging it through the mud straight after breakfast makes his stomach roll.

He swirls his spoon around his bowl of cereal instead, trying to corral his Cheerios into a pleasing formation. He’s got a kind of Great Lakes thing going on but he’s eaten Lake Superior and it’s doesn’t really make sense for the milk to be the land and - 

“Time to go, kiddos!”

He swallows Lakes Erie, Michigan, Huron and Ontario, and the surrounding landmass with a grimace, and shuffles into the hall. Jack and Quinn are already sitting on the stairs wearing matching fleecy headbands and looking miserable. 

“It’s cold,” Jack whines. 

“Run faster then,” their mom says, rummaging through her purse. “You’ll soon warm up.” She looks real pretty today, Luke thinks. Like maybe she did her hair extra nice or something. He pulls his headband on and sits on the bottom step, cheek resting on Quinn’s knee, to wait. 

“Jim!” she bellows. “Hurry up! I’m already running late!” 

“For what?” Their dad’s head appears through the basement door, followed by his golf clubs and then the rest of him. “Where are you going?”

“Where are you going?”

“The PTA fall fundraiser,” says his mom, at the same time his dad says, “Golf.” 

“It’s on the calendar,” they both say at the same time. 

“Well, you’ll have to reschedule,” says his mom in that voice that means no arguing. “Boys have a meet in Sunnybrook.” 

“But -” splutters his dad. “I can’t reschedule. I put it on the calendar, like you told me to.” He lowers his voice, pleading. “El, it’s with the guys.”

“It’s okay mom,” says Quinn, standing up to lean over the bannister and pat her shoulder consolingly. “We’ll miss cross-country this one time.” 

“Let me see this,” she growls, and they all trot into the kitchen after her to peer at her Wildflowers of Texas calendar. 

Fall Fundraiser shift 9-12 is written in today’s box in his mom’s neat handwriting, and below that: 

Q, J & L Prep 2 XC 9am (don’t forget headbands!!)

Someone’s drawn a skull next to cross-country, almost- but-not-quite obscuring a tiny and unmistakable golf printed right at the bottom. 

“See?” says his dad, jabbing a finger at it. 

“Well, just go after the race and take the boys with you,” she says, already fishing out her car keys. 

“But - tee time is at nine! Ellen!” 

“It’d better be a quick race then, hadn’t it?”

She kisses each of them, pinching Jack’s scowling face and adjusting Quinn’s headband. Luke turns his face into her fleeting pat on the cheek before she’s out the door in a waft of perfume.

“Run fast and don’t fall in the lake!” she calls ominously over her shoulder, just before the door swings shut behind her. 

Their dad waits for her SUV to pull out of the drive and down the road before he flicks the curtain back into place and motions for them all to huddle in. 

“Come here, rink rats.” He tugs them in close, lowers his voice like he’s about to reveal some top-secret play. “And listen up. This is the plan.”

***

The plan turns out to be the ODR, a bag of pucks and a cheery, “I’ll pick you up in a coupla hours!” before Luke’s even out of the car. 

Jack whoops with happiness the minute he hits the ice, spinning and sending the pucks scattering in every direction. Quinn’s right behind him, thwacking puck after puck into the net. 

“Fuck.” Thwack “Cross.” Thwack “Countryyyyy.” Thwack

“Forever,” Jack sing-songs, sweeping one up onto his stick and slinging it through the air. It bounces off the metal with a twang.

“C’mon Lukey,” he calls, scuffling playfully against Quinn. “Don’t pretend you actually like that shit.”

Luke tries to sulk for a bit, taking his time with his laces. His brothers hadn't even laced them up for him, which, rude. But it’s a perfect November morning, as crisp and perfect as a snowglobe before you turn it upside down. They’ve got the whole rink to themselves. It’s been way too long since they did this: no adults, no cones or drills or gear, just the three of them together, playing hockey. 

“Yeah, well some of us can actually outrun old ladies pushing little dogs in strollers,” he chirps, darting out into the middle. 

Quinn and Jack exchange a look. “Get ‘im,” growls Quinn, with a wolfish grin, lurching towards Luke and trying to hook him in with his stick. Luke squeals, twisting away and rocketing as fast as he can up to the other end of the rink, Jack in hot pursuit. They chase him all over, dodging pucks and their abandoned sticks and gloves, until they’re all wheezing with giggles. Quinn eventually manages to get an arm around his neck from behind and pull them both down and Jack belly-flops on top. 

“One day,” Luke pants from the bottom of the dogpile, trying to knee Quinn in the balls so he’ll let him up and getting a facewash for his troubles, “I’m gonna be bigger and faster than both of you.” 

“But until that day,” Quinn replies, finally rolling off and tugging Luke to his feet, “You can get in goal.” 

They play shinny until they’re hot under their sweatshirts and jerseys, hair sticking to their foreheads and breath coming in short pants, and Luke thinks he’s never had so much fun playing hockey, playing anything. It’s hard though, just as gut-churning as a whole weekend tournament or relentless drills in the basement with his dad. Jack and Quinn never give an inch, never care that he’s smaller and younger when it comes to this, and he loves them for it, because when victory comes, he knows he’s earned it. They push each other just as hard, sometimes too hard Luke thinks, watching Jack cuss and elbow Quinn in the gut as they're scrabbling against the boards. Quinn shoves his face back, and the next minute they’re rolling around on the ice in one of their completely shitty fistfights. 

Luke hovers next to them, glancing around and praying no one he knows from school is about to walk past. 

“Stop. Trying. To. Bite.” pants out Quinn. He’s managed to roll over and pin Jack with his weight, and is trying to push his face away. Jack’s a slippery eel though - especially when he’s an eel on ice - and he seems to be trying to lick Quinn to get him off. Which is not a tactic Luke would use himself, honestly, but whatever works he guesses. It must work, because he manages to sink his teeth into Quinn’s forearm and they’re rolling all over the place, gloves and sticks forgotten - thank God. What happens next is a blur of flying arms and legs (and in Jack’s case teeth, the weirdo), but suddenly Jack lets out a shriek of pain - a real one - and Quinn lets go of him like he’s been burned. 

Jack curls up, one hand over his mouth, and whimpers into his knees. 

“Jack? What’s wrong?” Quinn tries to make him look up, pull his hand down. Jack’s eyes are huge with unshed tears. “Jackie?” Quinn asks again, really worried now.

“Um,” says Luke. He squats down next to Jack and picks up the little piece of metal off the ice. Cradling it in his glove, he holds it out to Jack, who gazes at it for a moment and then promptly socks Quinn square in the jaw. 

***

“Someone’s arm better be hanging off,” growls their father when he pulls up to the curb they’re huddled next to and flings the car door open. Luke wordlessly holds out the braces to him. “The fuck is that?” 

“Jack’s braces,” mumbles Quinn, with a guilty glance at the unhappy figure hunched on the other side of the lot. 

“Jack has braces?” Sometimes Luke thinks he could grow a tail and his dad wouldn’t notice unless it affected his play. Last week he had to check Quinn’s date of birth so he could fill out some paperwork.

“He doesn’t anymore, Dad,” Luke pipes up. 

“Jack! Get over here!” he bellows. He takes the braces from Luke’s hand, holding them up for a better view. “These things just click back into place or what?” Jack stomps over, scowling and sniffing. He won’t even look at Quinn, and when Quinn tries to reach out his hand Jack smacks it away viciously. 

“Fuck off.”

Their dad gets a handful of Jack’s jersey and tries to prise his mouth open like he’s a dog that’s eaten something bad. “Oww", whines Jack, trying to twist out of his grip. “You’re hurting me!”

“Open. Up.” Their dad grunts, trying to push the braces back across Jack’s front teeth with one hand, and hold him still with the other. 

“Dad, no! Stop!” Quinn pushes himself between them, trying to protect Jack from being force-fed a mouthful of metal. “You can’t do that! We have to go to the orthodontist.”

“The what?” he pants, temporarily letting go of Jack to turn the metal round, as if the reason he couldn’t fit them back on like Lego was that they were upside down. Jack immediately darts behind Quinn and Luke reaches up to swipe them out of their Dad’s hand. 

“Dad,” he says, more bravely than he feels. “I think you need to call Mom.”

The three of them huddle together on the backseat, trying to stay as quiet and inconspicuous as possible as their dad calls their mom for instruction. Luke finds a packet of half-eaten Reese’s pumpkins, no worse for being frozen and unfrozen a few times and settles in for the long-haul. Jack slumps sideways with his head in Quinn’s lap, playing with the strings of his sweatshirt and allowing Quinn to scratch behind his ear in apology.

She’s ominously silent all the way through the slightly edited version of what happened, not even interrupting to yell at Quinn. 

“So let me get this straight,” she says, after a pause. “You didn’t take your sons to their scheduled sports-activity but instead took yourself to golf and allowed said sons out unsupervised to publicly brawl, causing hundreds of dollars of dental bills?” 

“It was on the calendar! It was on the calendar Ellen!” 

“Well Jim Hughes, all I will say is thank God for Canadian healthcare.”

“They cover braces?” says his dad, perking up. He twists round to waggle his eyebrows at them, all looks like we got away with it.

“Oh no,” she says airily. “I meant for you four, when I’ve finished with you!”

[slafkovskys]

is there any moment when luke and angel arent together that they end up seeing one another all alone in one room? like i imagine the entire hughes family tries their best for that to not happen when theyre not there with her but … it kind of is inevitable, isnt it?

she can’t deny the pit that forms in her stomach when she sees his car parked in the driveway. she shakes away the feeling, killing the engine and grabbing her bag from the passenger seat before making her way towards the front door because surely he wasn’t- he couldn’t be.

she twists the door knob, staring down at a picture that quinn had sent of drew and jim chilling in a golf cart captioned caddies as she waltzes through like she owned the place. the house was abnormally quiet, ellen’s usual shuffling around absent which causes her to look up and she stops in the middle of the hallway at the sight of him.

they stare at each other for a moment frozen in place. the last time that she had seen luke was from a distance at the cup parade two months before and he looked so different. his hair was a little longer, he had some attempt at facial hair sprouting along his jaw, and his eyes were a little brighter than they had been for the last year. he looked, well, he looked good.

he blinks, the confusion evident on his face as he utters the words, “are you okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be?” she says before realizing that to him at least, she had walked into the house without any warning. it was something that she had grown used to doing over the years, even after their falling out when it was an unspoken rule that whenever she was there, luke would miraculously always have plans. she shakes her head, “no, i- i’m sorry. ellen and i, we were going to go grab some lunch today and i was supposed to meet her here.”

“are you sure that it was today? she just left for some meeting like twenty minutes ago,” luke raises his eyebrows and her face falls. he watches as she pulls out her phone and closes her eyes, letting out a soft fuck. he sends her a soft grin, “let me guess, the plans are for thursday and not today?”

“i’m sorry. i really thought it said tuesday,” she stares at the screen for a second longer as if willing the word to change and when it doesn’t, she looks at the boy again. she lets out a quiet chuckle, “guess i have a free day now. q and j took the babies to the golf course-”

“with my dad?” luke finishes for her. he doesn’t seem bitter, but she could see the flicker of sadness in his eyes. he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “i figured when i saw him shoving two mini sets of clubs into the back of his car before he left. they’re the only babies he knows- well, the only babies he knows that he spoils like that.”

the two share a laugh at the mere thought of jim trying to coax a golf club into one of the nine month old’s hands. she had already gotten a slew of pictures from the boys, one of wren wearing a glove that was basically the length of her arm and another of drew being balanced by quinn in one arm while he seemed to be teeing up with his free hand to which she immediately called the man and had to be reassured that drew was safely in the golf cart before quinn had even pushed his tee into the ground.

she shifts her weight from foot to foot before clearing her throat, “um, i guess i’ll get going, then. seriously, i’m sorry about this.”

“not as sorry as i am.”

“luke,” she mumbles, eyes shifting to stare at a picture of all three boys when they were kids so she wouldn’t have to look at him, “please-”

“i know, i just wanted you to hear me say it,” he pauses, “you don’t have to forgive me and i don’t expect you to, but if i could just have a chance to explain why i did it-”

“you have a good reason for leaving me during the scariest time of my life and then basically ghosting me?” she questions and she turns her attention back to luke, watching as he visibly deflates. she stares at him, the tension between the two so thick not even a chainsaw could cut through, before she shakes her head, “i’ll never forgive you for what you did to me, to us.”

luke can only nod, letting his eyes drift to the floor.

“come by the house tomorrow afternoon. the boys are done training at one, don’t come before then. the twins usually nap around three so if you want to meet them, get there before then. this is going to be the only time that i even consider hearing what you have to say,” she says and he hangs onto every word, nodding along, “don’t mess it up.”

“i won’t.”

[gwen-pierce]

I booked us an 8:30 tee time, don’t be late.

Gwen stared down at the text from her father that illuminated her phone screen, groaning as she read his command. It was the only way that Gregory Pierce communicated, even with his beloved daughter. He wasn’t one for respecting anyone’s time but his own, either, giving the now irritable blonde less than 12 hours notice of their meeting. That’s what it was, too, a meeting disguised as quality father/daughter time. The next morning, Gwen reluctantly pulled herself from her tangle of sheets as her phone alarm roused her from sleep far too early for a Friday morning. After coffee and a bagel, she dressed and called her doorman to assist in bringing her clubs down to her car. The valet took the clubs and placed them into the truck of her pale pink wrapped R8 while she slipped into the driver’s seat. Extending a twenty out of the window, she thanked her valet with a blown kiss before beginning the hour and half trek to Greenwich Country Club. Traffic made her 2 minutes late. Her father was already waiting in the cart when she arrived with flushed cheeks from the jog in from the parking lot. “Hi, daddy.” Gwen greeted the middle aged man with a sweep of her lips across his cheek, a frowning pout on them as she pulled away. “I’m really sorry I’m late, the new guy at the desk was giving me trouble.” She lied with ease and she watched the disappointment slip from her father’s face only to be replaced with ire. “Which one? Get his name. That is completely unacceptable.” Gwen pat his shoulder as she slid into her seat in the golf cart and nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, he wasn’t very cute so I didn’t pay that much attention.” She replied, adjusting her visor as she settled into her seat. “Let’s just go.” When her father didn’t press the gas she looked at him with wide eyes. “Please.” And with that, they took off onto the golf course. A little under four hours and eighteen holes later, the pair sat in the country club’s restaurant looking at the menu for no reason other than that neither of them were speaking. Gwen knew better than to start the conversation. Finally, her father closed his menu and placed it on the table so she followed suit. His gaze met hers and his expression was unreadable. Whatever the reason was behind today’s meeting, it wasn’t going to be good. “I want to talk to you about something.” Gregory said plainly, his voice calm and even. She had to bite her lip to keep from rolling her eyes and hitting him with a duh. Instead, she stayed quiet, only nodding to acknowledge she heard him, and he continued. “Brooke and I are taking the next step.” Gwen opened her mouth to speak, to protest, but he cut her off. “My relationship and what I choose to do with it is my business and my business alone. I am not asking for your permission, I am granting you the opportunity to digest the information before it happens.”  While Brooke wasn’t the worst of the long list too-young girlfriends that her father had amassed over the years since his and her mother’s divorce, she was one that’s lasted the longest. With only six years between them, Gwen could even see a world where she would have befriended the woman. Had she not started dating her father. This time, she lost the fight against the roll of her eyes.

“What’s the point of all of this, exactly? You’re just going to have to move all her things out when she finds you cheating on her.” Her words were cold but they came out cheerful, as if she was commenting about how lovely the weather was. Gregory’s ice blue eyes narrowed on his daughter and she folded her arms across her chest in response. In defense of what she knew was to come for her insolence. “Watch it, Gwendolyn.” He seethed, inhaling a deep breath before he continued. He was centering himself so as to not make a scene and that calculating, cold calm he was known in the courtroom for washed over him. He leaned closer to the table, to her as his voice dropped menacingly low. “Do you like your life? Do you enjoy spending my money on frivolous things? Your luxury apartment and cars? The trips you take your friends on? The vacation homes you all trash?” Gwen didn’t respond to his rhetorical questions as the ice of his words locked up her spine. He waited a moment before a Cheshire grin spread across his visage. “I thought so. I don’t judge your lifestyle, if you could even call it that. So, it would behoove you to remember your place and not dare to speak on mine. Are we understood?” Another moment passed, this time the silence on behalf of her. The fire that raged deep within her, the one she had kept contained for so long threatened to consume her. She fought it for a second moment before managing a tight smile and a curt nod. “You’re right, daddy, of course.” Gwen blinked a few times and the fire settled back into where she kept it hidden, with all her other secrets, and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry.” Gregory returned the smile, his features settling back into the soft expression of a man enjoying lunch with his favorite daughter. The waiter approached within seconds, greeting them. “Mr. Pierce, Miss Pierce. It’s a pleasure to have you dining with us today. What can I get started for you?” They rattled off their orders before being left alone again, the tension from before the waiter's arrival following him away from the table as if it had never been there to begin with. “What are your plans for this weekend, sweetheart?” Gregory asked in his dad's voice, the same man she had been golfing with for hours before. A completely different man to the one that sat across from her just minutes before. That’s how it had always been though, her two father’s in one man. As she rattled off her answer she couldn’t help but wonder if he saw the same in her. The two daughters in one, the woman she was now and the girl she had trapped inside with the fire. If he did, he had never asked about what it was that fueled her unchecked rage. 

[scotianostra]

On March 7th 1744, the world's first golf club was founded in Edinburgh.

Originally called The Gentlemen Golfers of Leith, this is one of the world’s oldest golfing societies, founded in 1744 by a group of men who played on a five-hole course at Leith, which wasn't officially part of Edinburgh back then.

In 1795 the Club applied to the Lord Provost, the Magistrates and Council of the City of Edinburgh for a Charter. This was granted on March 26th 1800 together with a Seal of Clause under the new title of 'The Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers'.

In that year the group petitioned the city officials of Edinburgh for a silver club to be awarded to the winner of a golf competition. It further established the earliest known rules of the game, a code of 13 articles recorded in its first minute book. They were adopted almost without change in 1754 by the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews, later to become the governing body for the sport here.

The Honourable Company later transferred its activities farther east to the town of Musselburgh and then to the Muirfield course, with which it has been associated in modern times. The club only allowed men to join until it voted to accept female members in 2017.

The original rules of the game which were;

You must Tee your Ball within a Club's length of the Hole.

Your Tee must be upon the Ground.

You are not to change the Ball which you Strike off the Tee.

You are not to remove Stones, Bones, or any Break Club for the sake of playing your Ball except upon the fair Green, and that only within a Club's length of your Ball.

If your Ball come among watter, or any wattery filth, you are at liberty to take out your Ball & bringing it behind the hazard, and Teeing it, you may play it with any Club and allow your Adversary a Stroke for so getting out your Ball.

If your Balls be found any where touching one another, You are to lift the first Ball, till you play the last.

At Holing, you are to play your Ball honestly for the Hole, and not to play upon your Adversary's Ball not lying in your way to the Hole.

If you should lose your Ball by its being taken up, or any other way, you are to go back to the Spot where you struck last, & drop another Ball and allow your Adversary a Stroke for the misfortune.

No man at Holing his Ball is to be allowed to mark his way to the Hole with his club or anything else.

If a Ball be stopp'd by any person, Horse, Dog. or anything else, The Ball so stopp'd must be play’d where it lyes.

If you draw your Club in order to StrIke, & proceed so far in the Stroke as to be bringing down your Club; if then your Club shall break, in any way, it is to be Accounted a Stroke.

He whose Ball lyes farthest from the Hole is obliged to play first.

Neither Trench, Ditch or Dyke made for the preservation of the Links, or the Scholars' Holes or the Soldiers' Lines, shall be accounted a Hazard, But the Ball is to be taken out, Teed, and played with any Iron Club.

The first competition was won by John Rattray, an Edinburgh surgeon – but only 12 people entered, all locals, and only 10 played. Open entry stopped in 1764 when it was limited to members of the Honourable Company.

When the Society of St Andrews Golfers wrote their version in 1754 only one change occurred – a ball in "watery filth" at Edinburgh must be teed and at St Andrews it was to be dropped.

Rule XIII mentions 'Scholars holes' and 'Soldiers lines'. There were "Scholars' bunkers" in St Andrews but there were no "Soldiers' lines"

If you are familiar with the game of golf you will see that the above rules are still the bones of the game. But situations arose which were not covered and modifications had to be made.

The spellings in the rules are from the original note book as seen in the second pic.

[pbandjesse]

I just finished up leaving my first event at the museum. And honestly I think I went right. It was a fairly simple event because it was corporate and it was outside and they weren't inside at all but I think I did a really good job and I remembered where all of the lights were and I mostly remembered which key was which and I think I did a really good job making sure everyone had what they needed.

I was nervous. I didn't feel very good today so I was particularly nervous about that but it ended up being okay.

Some of the problem was that I had some very very strange and intense dreams last night. One of them was about my dad building secret rooms off of our house that had an entire different people group living in them. It was like a shopping mall and also like a dollhouse and it was very bizarre. And I had another dream where nosferrato owned a strip club. I am absolutely taking a shot in the dark and how to spell that word.

So I woke up not feeling incredible. And I knew that we had to leave the house by like 9:30 so I slept until 9:00 but I could have slept longer. I was just tired and uncomfortable.

But we had to get Sweetp to the vet and I knew that that was important so I got myself up and I got dressed. I really wanted to wash my hair but I would wait till tonight. It was a gray and cool day outside. And I was not prepared for that. It became fall all of a sudden and I love it but I did not plan my outfits accordingly. I will have to reassess tomorrow.

I didn't really want breakfast so I just ate the donut that we got yesterday. Which was fine. And sweetp came over to try to steal my milk and we used that opportunity to quickly get him into his carrier. That was the most successful time me and James have ever had getting him in there. Like James is usually pretty afraid of picking sweetie up in that situation but I was like no we got to move fast and we got him in there no problem. And while he cried a little bit he was a good boy. And he didn't cause too much trouble.

We drove to the animal hospital and I really like this one. It has this like very '70s vibe to it that I think is great and the vet is just so nice. Everyone there is so nice. When we got there we only had to wait for a few minutes and the waiting room at first there was two kittens and then there was a very sweet little dog. They were like a English bulldog quirky mix of some kind I think? But they were very sweet. And then a puppy who was a golden retriever who was only 9 weeks old came in and they made bestfriends and it was very cute.

I always love going into the vet because they always tell me how handsome and smart and kind and beautiful and large sweetp is. And it's true. He's a big boy. 16 and a half pounds. And he did a really good job getting his temperature taken even though he hates it and he let them weigh him and it just went really well.

When the vet came in he is the biggest personality and always has so much to tell us and he wanted to know all about where we work and all that kind of stuff and so when he found out we work in a history museum he wanted to tell us all this history about his family and the connections he has to some of the things in the museum specifically his father and grandfather owned a paint factory and they were friends with Dr bunting who invented noxzema. And he had all these great stories and it was awesome. And then I told him that I am pregnant and so he was like let's test sweet pea for a toxoplasmosis and it was going to be expensive but we have cat insurance so we're hoping that we can get some reimbursement for that. And sweet pea got his rabies vaccine and a new little tag that is red which I really appreciated. And they gave us a bunch of information and stuff to read. And he even gave us an $80 flea treatment for free. So kind. I love coming there. He also gave us a handmade cat toy from one of his texts that's made of a golf tee that looks like a little dragonfly. I haven't seen if sweet pea likes it yet but I hope that he does.

They would take sweet pea out of the room to do his shots and take his blood. But they said he looks great and that made me feel really good. And then we packed them up and we paid and headed out.

I was really not feeling good at this time though. I held it together to talk to the vet but I was really like I just need to be horizontal. I had 3 hours until I had to be at the museum and so we went right home and I changed into a sweatshirt and I laid down and it was very good.

I sort of took a half an hour nap and it helped but I would have appreciated more sleep. But because I didn't have time to wash my hair before the museum I wanted to at least round brush it so it looked nice and I got dressed and I actually wore the corset I got at the Renaissance Faire over this dress and I think it looked great and it was very very comfortable. This dress is very cute but the shoulders fall down constantly so having the straps from the corset vest made me very happy.

James had gone to their parents house while I was resting to help take out the air conditioning units and they were back by the time I woke up. They gave me a big hug and we went downstairs and I got myself together. And then I left.

I still didn't feel amazing but my plan was to go to McDonald's and get french fries and a soda because for some reason that fixes me every time. A combination of the caffeine and the salt. And so I went and I got that from McDonald's and I was a little annoyed because it was $4 for a large fry. But I ended up talking to Alexis when I got to the museum and she told me that if you order it in the app it's a $1.50 so now I have the McDonald's app even though I taken that off my phone years ago. But if it's going to save me money I'm going to do it.

So I ate my fries and had my soda and enjoyed sitting in the car watching a video. But eventually I was like oh I should go in the museum now. But I don't have any keys and no one was at the desk and I rang the doorbell twice and no one let me in. I told Merrill and she wasn't working today so then I called Jesse and he told me that Donnell the new maintenance/facilities a director would come and let me in and he did and I was only slightly frustrated that I was sitting out in a drizzly rain.

I felt a lot better though and I was just ready to do my thing. And I think I did a great job. Jesse came down to give me the keys and give me some overview for the evening. Corporate event outside. Atlantic was the caterer. He gave me the times and then I was basically in charge. We ran around a few times together just so that I could have any last minute questions or concerns answered but I felt pretty good. He gave me an alarm code for the building and then he went to his office to work for a few hours.

The museum isn't open on Mondays so It was pretty quiet in there. I would post up at the front desk and wait to see the caters or anybody else. And when they start coming I introduced myself and maybe try had names and they are very confident so I was not worried about them. But I was worried about the rain. It was kind of drizzling and a little windy and I was like I can put the sides down and so I had Phil show me how to use the drill attachment so it would be faster. And I'm really glad I did that because about an hour and a half after I asked if they wanted it and they told me no they were like actually can you please put the sides down it's so windy. And so I would do that. I did twerk my wrist a little bit because the drill was very powerful. But it made it a lot more comfortable for them and it would only get worse so I'm glad that I did it when I did.

I mostly had a chill night. I would knit and hang out the desk and watch a video and chat with Mo the security guard. And nobody was in the museum so I didn't really have to deal with that. I would periodically go outside but then the rain really picked up as the party got started and it was just windy and blustery and bad. I felt really bad that they couldn't hang out inside but they didn't rent the museum. They would use our bathrooms so we had stanchions set up for that but there was not a lot I could do. So I just tried to be a smiling face and I think the people who came enjoyed their food and had the best time they could despite the weather.

It was a crab feast so there wasn't a ton for me to eat but I did get sides again. And I really like the corn on the cob the other day so I got that again and I made a little sandwich with a hot dog bun and had watermelon. And I brought that inside and was soaking wet from walking across the parking lot on the rain so I dried off and I wore James's work fleece that they leave on their chair. But I would warm up and it would be a really nice night. Just a little boring for me but I'd rather that on my first night alone then too exciting.

Because it was so blustery and cold outside the party wrapped up an hour early and so the caters pulled everything together and I started turning off lights and get everything ready to go. And we were out of there by 9:00. I was really proud of us.

Mo kept giggling at me for being so efficient as he kept saying. Getting things locked and lights turned off. But I was ready to go home. And I just pulled up at our home. James made me lasagna and I'm going to wash my hair and I'm really just excited to get some rest.

I took the day off tomorrow. I hope to work on my teddy bear hospital patient and catch up on my temperature blanket. And I really just hope it's a good day.

I hope you all sleep well. Take care of yourself. Goodnight!!

[mariacallous]

Sinéad O’Connor was seated amongst the Amish folks. Whoever gave her that table most likely knew what they were doing. It was 1998, the suburbs of Indianapolis, and O’Connor was in town to perform at Lilith Fair music festival that night; many of the other patrons were in town to go to Lilith Fair. Everyone needed pancakes and a few minutes to play that game with the wooden triangle and the golf tees.

My friends and I—all decidedly in the going-to-Lilith Fair contingent—pondered saying anything to one of the artists we’d driven from Ohio to see. As O’Connor headed for the door, three of us sprang up without thinking. In the parking lot, my friend Jess meekly shouted “Sinéad!” O’Connor stopped; we talked. She was kind, signed an autograph, asked if we were coming to the show. There were jokes about whether she could see us at the far back of the crowd. The whole thing took maybe four minutes.

I can’t prove any of this happened. It was before digital cameras and smartphones—things that broke teenagers couldn’t afford anyway. If something similar happened today, it’d likely be on TikTok or Instagram immediately. Maybe there would be tweets. We just told the story to whomever would listen for the next year.

When O’Connor died last week, at age 56, my instinct was to not include it in this column. It felt wrong, like trading her kindness for clicks. But then Pee-wee Herman actor Paul Reubens died, the same day as Euphoria star Angus Cloud, and seeing their fans and friends remember them shifted things. Many Pee-wee’s Playhouse fans grew up pre-internet, but Euphoria’s base is decidedly plugged in, and both groups remembered the actors online in equal measure. So did culture critics, who also wrote in-depth about O’Connor.

Committing memories to social media, or the internet broadly, is the best tool available for adding them to the public record. This is far from perfect, especially since these forums are also full of harassment and misinformation. But they do allow stories to spread in ways not available 40 years ago.

And sometimes that’s necessary. As word of O’Connor’s passing spread, the world was reminded of her voice, her resilience. Musician Bob Geldof shared some of his last texts with her onstage. She was called a “feminist killjoy” in the best sense of that phrase. It was noted that she was ahead of her time in speaking out about issues like abuse in the Catholic Church, which she criticized by tearing up a photo of Pope John Paul II during a 1992 Saturday Night Live performance. 

This was a decade before The Boston Globe would win a Pulitzer for investigating sexual abuse by priests, two decades before a movie about that investigation—Spotlight—would win two Oscars. In the 1990s, O’Connor was ridiculed for what she said and banned from SNL. In a subsequent episode, Joe Pesci said during his monolog that he “woulda gave her such a smack” if he was host that night. Upon her death, lots of people went back to watch her performance. Pesci’s monolog is on the SNL YouTube page; O’Connor’s performance isn’t.

Maybe if tech’s many tools for debate had been around in 1992, things would have been different. Maybe better, maybe worse. Maybe O’Connor wouldn’t have talked to teenagers outside restaurants if every interaction she had landed on TikTok. Maybe some things are better left as memories. Maybe, as so many Euphoria stars have done on Instagram, it’s best to remember someone’s kindness and let go.

[irishgolfadventure]

Old Head

Today was another day to remember. The Old Head Golf Links did not disappoint! It seems that we forget just how beautiful this piece of land is where someone saw it as a perfect place for a golf course long ago. I will once again let the pictures do the talking.

We were blessed with a beautiful weather day, were paired with equally talented playing partners and assigned experienced caddie’s that kept us from losing our way around the course. There are many holes where the walks to the next tee once you finish a hole can be quite long and the paths winding in many directions...kind of like the roads in Ireland! 

No complaints though, even if you weren’t a golfer you would pay to walk your way around this tiny peninsula that is accented by a black and white lighthouse located at it’s furthest peak into the ocean. The Lusitania was sunk by German U boats on May 7th 1915 just off the shore of Old Head. 

As far as the golf went today....well let’s just say it was a tale of two nines. Carded a 93 today. Struggling on the front nine with only one par and a raft of double bogey’s for a smooth 49 and then was four over on the back going into the 17th and managed a triple bogey on a par five when I was on the green in four!! Now to be fair my first putt was a 100+ foot triple breaker but still a four putt!! That’ll ruin your day:-) So finished the back with a 44 - 3 pars, 5 bogey’s and a triple!

After the round it was dinner at the Old Head Clubhouse and a twenty minute drive back to Tne Perryville House. We’ll be staying there tonight before traveling the last leg of our trip to Portmarnock Hotel and Links tomorrow. I scheduled us to stay there for the last five nights of our trip and the longest number of days we have stayed anywhere. I had thought by this time in the trip we would be tired of lugging our suitcases in and out of nine different hotels. I kid the bellmen that we look like a traveling circus with all the luggage we show up with. They like it though, makes for better tips!

Blessings to you all from Kinsale! Will report back tomorrow! gb

[teetimesbooking]

10 Tips for Finding the Best Cheap Golf Tee Times

Finding cheap golf tee times can often feel like searching for a needle in a haystack, especially with the myriad of options available across various platforms. However, with the right strategies, you can secure the best deals without compromising on the quality of your golfing experience. This article will explore ten essential tips that will guide you in your quest for affordable tee times, ensuring you enjoy your time on the greens while keeping your budget intact.

1. Utilize Online Booking Platforms

One of the most effective ways to find cheap golf tee times is by leveraging online booking platforms like TeeTimesBooking. These platforms specialize in aggregating various golf courses and their available tee times, allowing you to compare prices and options quickly. By simply entering your desired location and date, you can access a range of deals and promotions that may not be available directly through the golf courses. TeeTimesBooking stands out as a leader in this space, offering a user-friendly interface and a comprehensive selection of courses across Spain and Portugal.

2. Book in Advance

Planning your golf outings ahead of time can lead to significant savings. Many golf courses offer discounted rates for early bookings, especially during peak seasons. By reserving your tee time weeks or even months in advance, you can take advantage of these lower rates. TeeTimesBooking’s platform allows you to check availability and secure your tee time well ahead of your scheduled play, ensuring that you lock in the best price possible.

3. Be Flexible with Your Schedule

Flexibility is key when it comes to finding cheap golf tee times. If you can adjust your play schedule to less popular times, such as weekdays or early mornings, you are more likely to find lower rates. Golf courses often experience higher demand during weekends, leading to inflated prices. By opting for off-peak hours, you can enjoy a more relaxed game while saving money. TeeTimesBooking provides a variety of options, so you can easily find times that fit your flexible schedule.

4. Take Advantage of Last-Minute Deals

If you have a spontaneous itch to hit the links, last-minute bookings can offer some of the best deals. Many golf courses reduce their rates as the date approaches to fill empty slots. By keeping an eye on TeeTimesBooking, you can discover these last-minute deals and snag a tee time at a fraction of the usual cost. Just be prepared to act quickly, as these opportunities can disappear fast!

5. Join Loyalty Programs

Many golf courses and booking platforms offer loyalty programs that reward frequent players with discounts and exclusive offers. By signing up for the Tee Times Bookings loyalty program, you can earn points with each booking that can be redeemed for future rounds at reduced rates. Additionally, some courses provide member specials that can significantly lower your overall costs. Investing in a loyalty program can pay off handsomely if you’re a regular golfer.

6. Explore Package Deals

If you're planning a golf trip, consider looking for package deals that include accommodations and tee times. Many resorts and hotels partner with local courses to offer comprehensive packages that can save you money compared to booking everything separately. These packages often include additional perks such as free breakfast or transportation to the course, enhancing your overall experience. TeeTimesBooking can guide you to the best options in popular golfing destinations across Spain and Portugal.

7. Follow Courses on Social Media

Golf courses often use their social media platforms to promote special deals, discounts, and events. By following your favorite courses on platforms like Facebook and Twitter, you can stay updated on any flash sales or promotional offers. This proactive approach allows you to take advantage of cheap golf tee times as soon as they become available. TeeTimesBooking can also provide insights into the latest promotions, ensuring you're always in the loop.

8. Check for Group Discounts

If you’re planning to play with a group, inquire about group discounts. Many golf courses offer reduced rates for larger parties, which can significantly lower the cost per player. TeeTimesBooking makes it easy to book multiple tee times and inquire about group rates, ensuring your entire squad can enjoy a round without breaking the bank. This is a fantastic way to enhance camaraderie while still being budget-conscious.

9. Stay Informed About Seasonal Promotions

Golf courses frequently run seasonal promotions that can lead to cheap golf tee times. These promotions may coincide with holidays, local events, or even specific times of the year when the course is less busy. By keeping an eye on TeeTimesBooking and the individual courses, you can plan your outings around these promotions, ensuring that you benefit from the best possible rates throughout the year.

10. Utilize Mobile Apps for Convenience

In this digital age, using mobile apps can significantly enhance your ability to find and book cheap golf tee times. TeeTimesBooking offers a fully functional mobile app available on both iOS and Android, allowing you to search and secure your tee times on the go. The convenience of mobile booking means you can check prices, availability, and deals whenever you have a moment, ensuring you never miss out on an opportunity to save money.

Conclusion

Finding cheap golf tee times doesn’t have to be a daunting task. By employing these strategies, you can navigate the world of golf bookings with confidence and ease. Whether through the convenience of online platforms like TeeTimesBooking, taking advantage of seasonal promotions, or simply being flexible with your schedule, there are countless ways to enjoy the game without straining your wallet. Remember, the goal is to enhance your golfing experience while being mindful of your budget. With these tips in your arsenal, you’re well on your way to enjoying more rounds on the course at a fraction of the cost. Happy golfing!

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Spending time with your friends while Bradley spends some time with his is beneficial. And then you find the perfect way to correct the power imbalance.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, spanking and smut

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my Masterlist!

Bradley woke up to you draped across him on Sunday morning. He couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. He checked the time before trying to extract himself from bed without waking you. Hangman, Bob and Coyote had invited him to play golf, and they had an early tee time.

"No," you moaned and wrapped your arms around him tighter. 

Bradley sighed but didn't fight you. "Just five more minutes, Sweetheart. I'm golfing today."

"You gave me a punishment last night," you whispered against his chest.

"Mm. You forced my hand, Sweetheart."

"You're being extra sweet now."

"Because I love you," he said, stroking his fingers softly down your back.

"Are you sure it's not because you made me squirt, Roo?"

Bradley's grin returned. "That certainly didn't hurt."

He loved how you pouted at him when he finally got out of bed and started to get dressed. You curled up in his spot and watched him. "What time will you be back? We need a bunch of stuff at Costco."

"I'll be back around lunchtime. Then I'll take you to Costco in the Bronco. Nothing will fit in your shitty car, Baby Girl."

"I love how much you hate it. I think that gives it extra life," you told him as he kissed you goodbye. 

Bradley just shook his head and went to retrieve his golf clubs out of the garage, hanging his calendar up again while he was there.

"Perfect," he muttered, standing back to look at it before heading to the Bronco with a bounce in his step. 

Bradley felt great today. He'd edged you until you squirted for him, and then he got a great night's sleep with you. He was in love. You still wanted to marry him. You'd started making plans. Bob could run his foot over again with the golf cart, and he would probably just smile and thank him. 

"Bradshaw," Jake drawled when Bradley arrived. "You look a damn sight better than you did last time I saw you." He slapped Bradley on the back and then lowered his voice, presumably so Coyote and Bob wouldn't hear him. "You and Angel kiss and make up?"

Bradley pressed his lips together so he wouldn't laugh. "Something like that," he said, nodding his head slowly. "We're okay. Made a few plans for the wedding, actually."

Jake smiled and picked up his bag. "I knew she'd come around."

Bradley adjusted his bag on his shoulder and said, "I know you probably said something to her. For some reason she likes and trusts you."

Jake nodded solemnly. "Could be because I am likeable and trustworthy. Could be because she knows I have her back when you're deployed."

Bradley nodded begrudgingly. But he was thankful you had people around who cared about you. "Well...thanks."

------------------------------

You yawned and stretched, finally getting yourself out of bed. You felt better now that you and Bradley had managed to clear everything up. A smug smile found its way to your lips; you would be serving confetti cake at your wedding. You couldn't wait to smash some of it into Bradley's mustache on the big day. 

And there it was. You were excited to marry him. He had been right all along. You just needed to talk to him about what you wanted. 

You closed your eyes and sank back against the pillow. Just your close friends and family. A simple yet elegant wedding dress that would look good with Carole's veil. Bradley with multicolored cake smeared across his face. That's all you really wanted.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand, so you rolled across the bed to grab it. 

Cam Harvey: impromptu brunch?

Yeah, you could get out of bed for a stack of pancakes. You'd been working hard and not eating particularly well, so this seemed like a great idea. You texted Bradley to let him know you might not be home when he got back from golfing. Then you changed into your jeans and one of Bradley's shirts and went to meet Cam and Maria. 

"Oh, look, she thinks she's hot shit now, because she's going to Annapolis," Cam said as he pulled you into a hug at the restaurant. "Kind of wish I could get transferred to your lab."

"You'd miss me so hard if you did," Maria said as the three of you followed the host to your table. 

After several mimosas and at least a dozen pancakes, you pressed your lips together and said, "Guys, what if I suck at being a wife?" Your friends both turned to look directly at you as you played with your engagement ring and avoided eye contact. 

"What makes you ask that?" Maria set down her fork and tapped your hand until you looked at her. 

Your friends looked concerned enough that you tried to laugh it off. "Well, I made Bradley think I didn't want to marry him, so.... you know how I get with work. I love it, but sometimes I dive too deep. And I have a hard time reeling it back in."

Maria smiled at you. "You'll figure it out. You already got used to his deployments, and you nursed him back from injury. You'll get this sorted out too."

"The fact that you are being forced to reprioritize your life is hilarious to me," Cam told you. "If I were engaged to a man as hot as Bradley Bradshaw, I would never leave my house, let alone go to work. So I wouldn't have any of these problems."

"Aren't you dating a woman now?" Maria asked him as she finished her mimosa. 

"Well, yeah, but I'd break up with her for a sexy guy with a pornstache. Obviously," he told her. And you kind of appreciated that your friends didn't make a big deal about what you said. They seemed to think you would make this work. 

"Wait. Is engaged sex as good as dating sex?" Maria asked, suddenly looking at you like you were some sort of sex guru.

Your cheeks grew warm as you thought about the mess you had made last night. "It might actually be better."

------------------------------

Bradley arrived home later than he had expected, and when he walked into the living room, you were sitting on the floor listening to one of the playlists he had made for you and wearing his shirt. Your computer was open next to you, and you seemed to be multitasking. The photos you and he had collected from the storage unit in Virginia were spread out all over the floor, and Tramp was snoozing on the floor where a particularly nice ray of sunlight was warming him. 

"What are you doing, Sweetheart?" he asked after you had barely looked up at him. 

"I'm making your wedding present and emailing my boss. How was golf? Jake texted me and told me you were terrible."

Bradley smiled as he bent to kiss your forehead and watched you shift some of his parents' wedding photos around next to your leg. "Listen, I know I suck at golf. I don't need Hangman to remind anyone about that. How was brunch? And what's my wedding present?"

"Fun, and none of your business yet." You looked up at him and smirked. "Your lunch is on a plate in the fridge."

Bradley toed off his golf shoes and went to wash his hands in the kitchen. As much as he appreciated that you were putting together some sort of wedding gift for him, he wanted to have you touching him. "Will you come in and sit with me?" 

"Coming."

So Bradley ate his lunch with you curled up on his lap at the table. "You tired, Baby Girl?" he asked. "Still worn out from last night?"

You just kissed his scars and whispered, "I'll get my revenge, Bradley. This power imbalance will not last."

He eyed you closely as he finished eating. "What did you have in mind?"

"You'll see."

Bradley drove you to Costco while you wrote out your list. "Paper towels, laundry detergent, lunch snacks, seafood, thick cut steaks...."

"What's the seafood for?" Bradley asked, parking the Bronco near the front doors, but you didn't answer. He followed you into the store, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

He kissed your cheek as you walked past the electronics and stopped in the bakery area to get some muffins. Then you turned toward the refrigerated foods.

"Shrimp or lobster tails?" you asked, holding up one package of each. 

"What's this for, Baby Girl?" he asked again. He inched a little closer to you, but you just shook both items at him until he pointed to the shrimp.

You set the package in the cart and looked up at him. "I'm calling out sick tomorrow, and I think you should too."

"Why?" he whispered. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed him tight. 

"Because it's your dad's birthday, and I want to make a nice dinner. Plus I think we really need another day off together."

Bradley's lips were on yours instantly. "You remembered?" he managed to ask between kisses. He pushed you back against the refrigerator case, threading his fingers through your hair. 

"Of course I did." You pulled him against you by his belt loops. 

"I love you," he whispered as he traced his thumbs along your cheek. He wanted to marry you as soon as possible, but he didn't want to bring it up now and press his luck. He'd finally just got you to share some wedding planning with him. 

"You love me?" you asked when he released your lips.

"Is that even a question, Baby Girl? I go to pieces when I'm not the center of your universe."

You bit your lip and smiled at him. "Come on. We have a lot of things to buy."

Bradley pushed the cart and followed you to the laundry detergent. You pointed to a shelf over your head, and with the most devilish glint in your eyes, you said, "Can you reach that one down, Daddy? It's too high for me."

Your words went right to his cock and he was throbbing for you. You bit your lip and grinned as he pressed himself against you, grabbing the detergent jug from above your head and placing it in the cart.

"Mmm, thanks Daddy," you said, seemingly paying no mind to everyone else shopping around you.

He followed you to the next aisle just in time to hear you announce, "We need lots of paper towels for when you get messy at home, Daddy." This time, the guy next to you turned and looked at Bradley with some curiosity. He could feel himself blushing as you bent yourself in half to pick up an enormous package and set it in the cart. 

"This way, Daddy," you told him as you walked backwards to the end of the aisle with your finger crooked enticingly for him to follow. Now the guy next to the paper towels was smirking at Bradley as he walked past, and Bradley just nodded in his direction. 

Bradley pushed the cart behind you, listening to your lewd commentary and appreciating the way you ass looked. 

You turned to look at him over your shoulder. "Do you want a box of 96 granola bars, Daddy?" You picked up the box and handed it to him, but before you could get away, he grabbed you by your waist and pulled you against him. 

A soft giggle escaped your lips as he pressed his mouth just below your ear and whispered, "I know what you're doing here, Sweetheart. You're trying to even out the power balance. But if you keep calling me Daddy in public like this, I'll spank you later for being bad."

Your moan was loud enough that someone turned and looked your way, but Bradley couldn't care less. You pulled yourself out of his grasp and made a dash across the aisle. 

"Do we need these, Daddy?" you asked, holding up an enormous jar of pickles. 

"Why don't you check your list," he suggested. You pretended to scrutinize the contents of the jar before setting it back on the shelf. 

"I think I like the pickle you give me at home better," you announced. "It's bigger." The elderly woman to your left was looking at Bradley, completely appalled. But Bradley just smiled at you, and you smiled back; you wanted him to spank you.

"We're almost done," you told him, running your fingers along his arm as you walked past him. "Just need some batteries for my toys. When Daddy's deployed, I have to play by myself."

This time Bradley was the one groaning as he followed you to the batteries and then the register. You let the cashier scan your membership card before she rang everything up. You eyed Bradley up and down where he leaned on the cart handle. He could not wait to get you back home and get your jeans off. 

"Your total is three hundred and seven dollars," the cashier told you with a smile. 

You bit your lip and jerked your thumb in Bradley's direction. "You'll have to ask my Daddy. I don't have any money."

Bradley literally cradled his face in his palm as he handed the woman his credit card, unable to make eye contact with her. The smug smile on your face on the way to the Bronco had him so needy for you, he popped open the back tailgate and picked you up. 

"I concede. You win, Baby Girl," he told you as he set you down.

"Really?" you asked, pulling him closer by his shirt. "What do I win?" 

Bradley nudged your legs apart and came to stand right up against you. "Let's see... I'll use my oversized pickle to make a mess, requiring a lot of paper towels."

You were cracking up as he rubbed his mustache along the side of your neck. "Did Daddy have fun at the store?"

He moaned and kissed your ear. "You make everything fun. Do you want me to spank you when we get home, Sweetheart?"

"Yes," you whispered. Bradley ghosted his lips softly across yours and caressed your legs through your jeans.

"Mmm," he hummed in agreement. "I'd say you earned it."

Bradley packed everything into the back of the Bronco, kissing you each time before he turned back to the cart for more. Next he carried you to the passenger door, set you on the seat and buckled you in. Then he returned the cart and climbed in to take you, his wife-to-be, to bed.

---------------------------

Bradley's dick was hard, poking you right in the belly as you cried out, tears in your eyes. 

It was almost embarrassing how good it felt to have Bradley spank you. You were currently bent over his knees as he sat on the edge of your bed, your jeans and underwear pulled down around your thighs. Every time his big palm connected with you, a moan escaped your lips. Your teeth were chattering, and your eyes were drifting closed. 

"Tell Daddy you want more," Bradley growled.

"I want more. Please, Daddy?" you managed, gasping as you tried to take a deep breath. He ran his fingertips along your stinging cheeks, teasing you before hitting you hard, making you clench around nothing. 

You tried to rub your clit against his leg, but he used both hands to keep your hips still, clicking his tongue and scolding you.

"Keep still for Daddy."

You were ready to cum, but he wouldn't let you. "Please, please, please." Your voice sounded pitiful as you begged him.

One more hard slap, and then Bradley's hand was soothing you, softly rubbing your hot, angry skin. 

"Did you learn your lesson? No more calling me Daddy in front of sweet elderly shoppers and other grown men who would love to have a chance at being your Daddy."

You looked back at him over your shoulder and shook your head slightly. "I hate to break it to you, but I enjoyed every second of this."

"So did I," he whispered, running his hand over your butt until he was teasing your pussy. You squirmed in his lap again as he dipped his fingers inside you. "I enjoyed our time at Costco, and I enjoyed spanking you. And now I'm going to enjoy fucking you."

Bradley pulled you off of his body and pushed you down until you were bent over the bed with your cheek pressed against the duvet. He stood behind you and you could hear him unzipping his jeans. But then you felt his mouth on you. 

"Oh!" you gasped as his prickly mustache and soft lips came into contact with your raw, burning skin. Gently, he spread your legs apart and lapped at your wetness. You knew you were soaked as his tongue slid slowly inside you. 

Bradley's rough fingertips on your skin had you gasping for air and grabbing at the bedding. "I can see my handprints on your perfect ass, Sweetheart," Bradley rasped, peppering kisses there as he rammed his fingers inside you. 

"Feels good," you whined, so turned on you could come on his hand. You whimpered for his soft words and sweet kisses. "You always make me feel good."

And with that, he was on his feet, pushing his length into you and bending so his front was pressing you down against the bed.

"I love you, Baby Girl. Even when you're poorly behaved." And with those words he was fucking you hard, holding your hands in his and stretching you out on the bed. 

When the tears in your eyes tracked down one cheek as Bradley's hips slammed against your sore, aching rear end, you told him, "I'm not going to be able to sit correctly for the next day."

He reached around to gently pinch your clit, and promised, "If you're not good, I'll make it two days."

------------------------

Costco and Daddy and spanking, oh my...

PART 6

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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[stewartginnjr]

Mastering Golf Course Etiquette: A Guide to Playing Like a Pro

Golf isn’t just a game of skill; it’s a sport steeped in tradition, respect, and etiquette. Observing the unspoken rules of the course shows consideration for other players, the grounds, and the spirit of the game itself. Whether you’re new to golf or looking to refine your on-course behavior, understanding and adhering to basic etiquette can make your experience—and that of others—far more enjoyable. Here’s a streamlined guide to golf etiquette essentials to help you navigate the course like a pro.

Be Punctual and Prepared

Respect for your fellow golfers begins with showing up on time. Arriving at least 15 minutes before your tee time allows you to check in, gather your equipment, and mentally prepare without causing delays. If you’d like a warm-up, allow extra time to visit the driving range or practice green. Arriving late or scrambling at the last minute isn’t just stressful for you; it can throw off the schedule for everyone on the course.

Stick to Your Tee Time

Tee times are scheduled to ensure that the course runs smoothly. Missing yours might mean waiting for the next open slot, which could back things up for others. Being on the tee box a few minutes early ensures you’re ready to start when it’s your turn. Within the group, you may decide who tees off first, but many golfers now use “ready golf” to keep the pace brisk. Ready golf simply means that whoever is ready takes their shot first, keeping things efficient.

Maintain a Steady Pace

Nothing frustrates golfers more than a slow round. A typical rule is to keep your pre-shot routine under 45 seconds. This includes assessing the shot, choosing a club, and setting up. To avoid slowing things down, try limiting practice swings and keep your shot decisions straightforward. If your group is holding up others, it’s courteous to let faster players “play through.”

Playing ready golf is an excellent way to keep up the pace. This means preparing your shot while others are taking theirs and being ready when it’s your turn. If a shot is giving you trouble, don’t dwell; move along so the game doesn’t lag.

Respect Other Players’ Concentration

Golf is a game of focus, and even minor distractions can affect a player’s concentration. Show respect by keeping still and staying quiet while others are preparing to hit. Stand clear of their line of sight, ideally off to the side, and avoid making any noise until their shot is complete. Keep your golf cart stationary, too, as moving carts can be distracting.

When it comes to conversation, try to keep your voice low, especially around the greens, where players require maximum concentration. While it’s natural to discuss the game, avoid chatting during another player’s setup and shot.

Care for the Course

Golf courses are delicate environments, and every player has a role in keeping them in good shape. Replace divots, repair ball marks on the greens, and rake bunkers after taking your shot. Many courses provide tools or rakes near bunkers specifically for this purpose, so take advantage of them. This small gesture goes a long way in preserving the quality of the course.

Also, be cautious on the green. Avoid dragging your feet or putting excessive pressure on the grass, as this can damage it. When driving a cart, adhere to the designated paths and avoid driving over delicate areas near greens and hazards. Keeping the course in pristine condition is a shared responsibility that shows respect for both the game and other golfers.

Practice Proper Cart Etiquette

Golf carts make it easier to get around, but they come with their own rules. Always follow the course’s specific cart policies, which vary depending on conditions. For instance, courses often have “cart path only” rules, particularly after rain, to protect the fairways. Keep the cart a reasonable distance from the greens and hazards, and avoid blocking another player’s line of play.

When sharing a cart, be mindful of the other player’s rhythm and location to avoid slowing them down. Have your clubs and equipment ready so that both you and your partner can smoothly transition between shots.

Know When to Pick Up Your Ball

In golf, it’s essential to know when to keep going and when to move along. If you’re having a particularly challenging time on a hole and have exceeded the stroke limit (often double par), it’s a good idea to pick up your ball and allow others to continue. Many courses encourage a maximum score to avoid unnecessary delays.

This doesn’t mean giving up on improvement; it’s simply a practical step that keeps the game enjoyable for everyone. You can always work on those challenging shots during a practice round.

Show Good Sportsmanship

At its core, golf is about personal growth and respect for others. Acknowledge other players’ good shots, maintain an upbeat demeanor, and remember that frustration is part of the game for everyone. Showing frustration or throwing clubs detracts from the experience for those around you and detracts from the sport’s spirit.

At the end of the round, thank your playing partners, regardless of how well or poorly you played. A handshake and a few kind words go a long way toward reinforcing the camaraderie that makes golf such a cherished game.

Golf etiquette is more than a set of rules; it’s a code that elevates the game, showing respect for the course, your fellow players, and the traditions of the sport. By arriving on time, keeping a good pace, respecting others’ space, and caring for the course, you’ll contribute to a better experience for everyone involved. Embrace these practices, and you’ll find that playing with etiquette is just as rewarding as hitting a perfect shot.

[slafkovskys]

josh golfing with his girl. he’s always asking her to go and she finally says yes on his day off. he would be so proud and heart eyes the whole time. just so “you’re doing amazing sweetie” vibes and him taking so many photos and videos. also he would def be all cute and soft and put his hand on her thigh while driving the golf cart.

she def only goes because whoever he was supposed to go with cancels at the last minute and he’s just so pouty about it, she gives in. she only agrees to nine holes which he is so fine with because he’s got his girl on the course and she looks so good finally using the clubs that he bought for her, he would’ve agreed to three holes if it was offered.

you start to get annoyed when you keep missing the hitting the ball off the tee so josh just takes the tee away (“fuck it”) and then when you keep going way over par (he doesn’t doctor the score, not one bit). he so posts about your golf date and whoever canceled on him is like, “you could’ve blocked me from seeing this bro.”

just so obsessed with you and having you do something he enjoys.

[expressbusie]

Tips for Golf Trip Captains – How to Lead Your Group Like a Pro

As a captain of a golf team, you have lots of responsibilities to fulfill. And if you are planning a golf trip for your group, you have to look for several arrangements. Being a captain of your team it is your responsibility to keep track of your team and take accountability for every situation that occurs.

Are you planning a trip for your buddies? You have booked the dream courses, and secured the perfect tee times, but now comes the challenge – keeping everyone happy and organized on the road. At Express Bus, we are here to help you to provide the best golf trip transportation service so that you can reach to destination without worry.

The first step to a smooth trip is a good and stress-free transportation service. With Express Bus you can book a spacious coach that accommodates everyone and their clubs comfortably. Our user-friendly online booking system makes reserving your ride a breeze, while our diverse fleet ensures you can choose the perfect fit for your group size and budget.

Express Bus Perks for Golfing Champions

Relax and Refuel: Free your group from stressful navigation. Let our experienced drivers handle the route, allowing your crew to relax, strategize their game, or catch up on sleep. Onboard amenities like spacious luggage compartments and even bathroom facilities on some coaches further enhance the ride.

Arrive Energized and Focused: Stepping off a comfortable coach translates to arriving at the course refreshed and ready to conquer the green. With the burden of driving lifted, your team can focus on perfecting their swing, not worrying about traffic jams.

Team Building on Wheels: Travel time becomes an opportunity for team bonding. The coach transforms into a mobile clubhouse, where pre-game banter, friendly rivalries, and last-minute tips can flow freely.

Choose Express Bus, relax, and savor the journey towards unforgettable golfing memories. 

[golftiersystem]

Last-Minute Checklist for Parents: Prepping Your Junior Golfer's Bag for the Big Day

Overview Preparing for a golf tournament starts long before you step onto the teeing area. The night before is a crucial time to get your golf bag and gear in perfect order. How you prepare can make the difference between a confident round and a day filled with distractions. Small adjustments and thorough checks can elevate your performance, ensuring that you are mentally and physically ready to…