#golf pro shirts

[coffee-and-uhg]

Diego Luna (fully decked out) and Michael Peña golfing in Puerto Penasco, Mexico 6/17/12

[princessbrunette]

basketball!rafe knew he needed you the moment he set eyes on you once more in that hotel bar.

personally, you thought he might’ve been a nobody on first glance. a really handsome nobody, so he couldn’t have actually been a nobody — but it was the intrigue that drew you in regardless. to set the scene, you didn’t have to go far to find him, no — this was the fanciest hotel in your hometown and you were there alone. something about getting all dressed up and then your friends cancelling last minute, it didn’t matter — it felt like so long ago that you’d forgotten all about it. all you remember was seeing the handsome nobody in a t-shirt and a cap strolling up to the bar.

it was only after doing a double take, you realised the nobody was rafe cameron.

now you’d already known rafe from the obx. distantly, of course — a couple of parties here and there, some lingering glances when you were convinced he was a fuck boy. he was apparently a little unhinged back in the day, but after his dad died he fixed his shit and went pro with basketball, making it big. like mentioned, you weren’t friends, merely acquaintances with the boy a couple of years your senior— but he’d always been someone you saw get their shit together and think, you know what? good for him i guess.

now rafe remembers his history with you differently. apparently, he used to shoot hoops with your older brother in your backyard with a few other friends back when they were younger. still a casual hobby for rafe, and playing it anywhere else but a kook’s backyard might’ve looked too poguey for him to be caught partaking in. at the end of the day, golf was meant to be his sport. it was fitting and low maintenance. basketball took the cake everytime however— helping him mentally in more ways than anyone could imagine.

anyway, he remembers you — a lot younger than you are now, flip flops slapping along the patio as you arrive on destination — mouthing off to your big brother about bouncing the ball too loudly off your wall or spending all the money your mother had left for pizza on the counter. you were this tiny mouthy weapon, even having the infamous rafe cameron snickering down at his shoes as your brother whined back at you, trying to shoo you back inside. he recalls even catching a couple of strays, your shrill youthful voice referring to the eldest cameron as a ‘lanky meathead’.

“jesus, you gotta keep your sisters mouth in check dude. gonna grow up n’get her in trouble n’shit.” he’d shake his head as you’d waddle back inside, bouncing the ball and shooting. after that it was just parties as you grew up, seeing a familiar pretty face through a coked out haze and thinking ‘who’s that again?’ in passing or overhearing you talking to your friends, still carrying that same slick mouth that you only got away with because you were so hot.

only now, he’s staring across this dimly lit hotel bar, the first time in a while that he’d been back in his hometown and there you are — staring back at him, a face he’d never forget except you’re all grown up now— practically spilling out that slinky little dress and acting as a magnet, his feet dragging him over to you before his drink had even arrived from the bartender.

not even five minutes into conversation and it’s abundantly clear that you’re still that spoiled little cheerleader he knew once upon a time, only this time you’re tilting your head to the side with your brows furrowed in confusion that bordered on disinterest when he tried to explain what happened in his most recent game. you weren’t here to talk about that and it showed, leaning over your margarita to adjust his expensive looking chain, pulling it to sit above his tshirt instead of tucked beneath, cutting him off to question “so you knew my brother, right?” he liked that directness about you. the fact you kinda seemed like a bitch. it was a challenge, the urge to tame and rough someone up still very much sat at the surface of his wants and desires.

once a spoiled brat — always a spoiled brat, only now you’re his spoiled brat six months later, clinging to his arm and digging your manicure into his bicep with a whine as a silent command for him to magically vanish any of the surrounding paparazzi outside the airport.

“get rid of them.” you eventually mewl, in a demanding way that represented the physical embodiment of you stomping your pedicured foot.

“you think i fuckin’ want them here?” he sighs, no stranger to your ridiculous requests. that’s what was so intoxicating about your relationship — yes you were a little bitch sometimes, but he learnt how was best to put you in your place. most of the time you were happy, fucked and fed with racks upon racks sat in your expensive handbag, clinging to him and tottering along at his side in heels that cost an arm and a leg— but the times you were snarking up at him, telling him to ‘shut the fuck up’ he was more than happy to grab your throat and ask “the fuck are you talking to like that, huh?” which oddly would cause a smile to emerge on your face and the attitude to melt off you for an hour or so.

that being said, you kept him in check too. now rafe wasn’t like he always was — unhinged, explosive and overall angry at the world. no, he had an access to therapy now and basketball worked for a good outlet of his frustrations, all whilst opening up a new world for him to get his fresh start away from all that family bullshit he had to put up with a while back (cut them all off, minus wheezie who he sends money to every month and facetimes to talk shit.) that being said — he would be the one to catch an attitude out of the blue sometimes, which was often remedied by a sharp eyebrow raise from you, a dramatic head swivel and a “you better fucking talk to me nice, rafe cameron. not one of your fucking fan girls.”

with a tongue in his cheek, he’ll shake his head and drop the whole thing — but not without saying “y’know you run your mouth like you’re six foot four with two pistols tucked sometimes. shit.”

life outside of your relationship with rafe became a dream all because of him. quickly, as rafe skyrockets to success in the basketball world, you’re skyrocketing to being the top pinterest muse— starring in every girls ‘future manifestation’ moodboard with snaps of you courtside in your pretty little outfits cheering on your boyfriend. you were glammed to the nines at every game, because you knew you’d end up on that big screen one way or another.

when travelling with rafe for his tournaments, you’d get the princess treatment you deserved and that was a promise. designer shoes, designer bags, steak meals that cost the same as your house back home and you were not poor by any stretch of the word. he liked to flaunt you, flaunt his success. he was the man now, like he’d always wanted to be — and effortlessly so, not the charade he was putting on back at tanny hill throwing those parties whilst suffering on the sly. no, he had everything now— and was happy to share that with you. you didn’t have to do much to gain this treatment, no. holding him down was enough, but he’d be happy to accept your payment of gratitude in having his cock wedged down your throat in the limo back to the hotel, ending the night on your back with your ankles on his shoulders and that same chain you fiddled with when you first reunited swinging in your face.

it was no secret that the two of you fucked. it made up a good 60% of your free time together, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. rafe could still get very frustrated — with his manager, with his teammates, with people from his past cropping up, even with the general public who had opinions on his playing — and with that, what better way to pound out some frustrations then by bending you over a balcony in a foreign country? rafe had a good team behind him, and luckily so — because it wouldn’t be the first time a hotel had attempted to get the two of you blacklisted for causing too much of a noise disturbance, notes pinned to your door found in the morning reading ‘Dear guests, whilst we are thrilled that you are enjoying our hotel, we please ask that you keep it down for the sake of the other guests. To remind you, other guests do not need to hear your lovemaking through the night! If this continues throughout your stay you will be asked to leave.’

your basketball player boyfriend would pluck the note off the door the next morning when you’re leaving together for the day, your sleepy self tucked under the arm of his hoodie covering his jersey as he scoffs, handing it your way carelessly. “pussies. they can’t do shit about it.”

unstoppably so, despite your hate for gossip past being in high school the notes would turn to blind items as rafe truly came into the public eye. you couldn’t scroll three videos on tiktok without hearing ‘this north carolina basketball player and hometown it girl may have come into hot water again at this famous vegas hotel after making sure their wall neighbours heard the ins and outs of their passion — april 27th, crazy days and nights.’ that, or the blogosphere getting ahold of the blurry and ambiguous paparazzi shots taken of you supposedly ‘getting it on’ on the beach.

unfortunately, this public knowledge that the two of you were real fuckers was not enough for twitter, which resulted in your first leaked video.

rafe should have known to be careful when the two of you in a lustful haze filmed an amateur tape the day before you had to fly home for a little while, the basketball player knowing he’d miss being in it and needed some material to work off whilst you were gone.

the video was 1 minute and 49 seconds of pure glory. filmed on landscape with an outstretched arm rafe captures you, whining and mewling as you roll your hips on his lap, bouncing on his cock as he watches the two of you through the screen, swollen lips parting and tongue flattening to catch your nipple as you do so. he grips your ass hungrily, aiding you on fucking down on him before delivering a firm smack to your ass that makes you jolt, only unlatching his mouth from your tit to grumble out “s’what i’m fuckin’ talking about baby. who’s your daddy, huh?” looking up at you from your needy spread out position.

you still recall the way your heart dropped into your ass seeing your name along side rafes in the trending tab, following by the words ‘leaked video’.

your legal teams were all over it instantly, working hard to get it shut down off every site it had been reuploaded and desperately attempting to track down whoever had managed to get into your boyfriends cloud to expose it— a couple weeks of watching paparazzi shots of rafe taking calls outside buildings, yelling down the phone and flipping off the cameras in moments of frustration and stress — for him to then be on the phone to you from a hotel room later that night, talking you down as you cry like a baby and complain.

“i know, i know alright i’m workin’ on it. gonna get that shit wiped from the net i can promise you that now, i got the guy who can make it happen for me. but for now, look y’know there’s — there’s nothin’ i can do alright, i can’t make people fuckin’… unsee that shit unfortunately just be glad you look so sexy in the video cause — okay, shit, the hell are you yelling for? m’just tryna help—”

after a while it does infact die down, and the video can no longer be found — yes, even on the shitty pop up porn sites that had reposted it with twelve watermarks in the worst quality. however, it didn’t stop jaded basketball fans from bringing it up any chance they got — getting in heated debates online and using it as an insult to the cameron boys playing skills. god forbid a rafe fan would speak up for him after a particularly poor game, his mentions getting filled with nothing but a screenshot of your boyfriend with your titty in his mouth.

though it had faded, the two of you learned that there was no way around it than to humour it — your boyfriend barely addressing the tape by quoting it in his instagram caption after one of his big wins, the post of him grinning on the court with his trophy tilted ‘who’s your daddy, huh?’ which of course, sent twitter into a spiral.

[rafesgfs]

golf lesson

you distract rafe during a golf lesson.

"How important is winning this bet with your brother for you?" Rafe asked, watching as you hit the ball right into the lake, the ball nearly hitting a duck.

You glance at him, biting your lip. "Am I that bad?"

He turned to look back at the holes on the grass where you had hit your club, the iron kicking up the freshly mown grass rather than the ball on the tee. The blond bites back his smile, turning back at you, shrugging. "No, you're doing great, baby."

Groaning, you lean against your golf club, annoyed and frustrated. "Ugh, how am I so bad at a game old men play? This is humiliating."

Rafe had spent the whole afternoon trying to teach you how to golf after making a bet with your brother you could win a round with him. The prize: a few weeks in Greece that your parents would fully fund. And you wanted to play your Mamma Mia fantasies this summer, even if you had to listen to your boyfriend teach you all the mechanics of the most boring sport ever.

However, it did have some pros, one of them watching how Rafe's arms flexed when he swung the club, the way his white polo shirt fit him, the way he drove the golf club. It was a wonder how you were able to focus on his presence so close to you.

Rafe chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist. He presses a kiss on your shoulder, his chin resting on it. "It's a stupid sport, don't get discouraged. And with me as a coach, you'll be the best."

You turn to glare at him, annoyed at how he babied you, knowing full well there was little to no hope with your golf skills. "You're mocking me."

"No, no, I would never." he smiles softly, a smile tugging at his lips. "We just need to practice a little more. You're good at everything, I'm sure you'll be good at this, too."

Rolling your eyes, you huff, thinking about all the balls you had lost in the past hour alone. Rafe had to go back to the country club multiple times to grab another pack of golf balls, a smirk slapped on his face every time he came back with a new pack.

"This is hopeless." you groaned dramatically, throwing Rafe another glare as he laughed.

He wraps his arms around you, setting you up for another swing. "Here, let me teach you the proper technique and posture so you hit the ball where you want it to go, yeah?"

"Fine," you grumbled, biting back a smirk as Rafe's hands traveled down your body, hands gripping your waist.

"Make sure your body is turned to face the ball." Rafe murmurs in your ear, positioning your hips. His fingers trail softly up your body, your tennis dress riding up slightly at the movement. "Yeah, just like that."

You giggle softly as arch your back, shifting your legs slightly to grind your ass up against Rafe's crotch, smug at how quickly he froze. "Am I doing it right, Rafey?"

Despite how you hated the stupid nickname, you'd use it whenever you wanted something from him, something he couldn't help give you every time you asked. You'd also use it when you teased him with it, almost like a secret word to hint you wanted him without others knowing.

"Yeah, yeah. Doing great, baby. Grip the club here and here." Rafe cleared his throat. He positions your hands on the club, fingers brushing briefly against the Darry ring he had gotten you for your first week anniversary.

"Hmm, this feels right." you grin smugly, feeling his cock hardening against your ass. Gripping the club, you do a little swing, twisting your hips. "Does that look good?"

"Fuck." Rafe groans, hands tightening against your hips, pulling you up against him, his cock pressed up against your cock. His fingers play with the hem of your dress, his chin resting on your shoulder. "You always look so goddamn good."

You giggle, eyes drifting towards the group of old men a hole away from you, near enough for them to see you and Rafe, but far enough to not see how you were grinding against him. "Help me hit the ball?"

"Of course," replied Rafe, hands engulfing your own. He leads you through the motion of a swing before guiding you to hit the golf ball. With a straight swing, the club hit the ball, flying in the air for a few seconds before rolling towards the flagged hole. "Good job, baby."

With a victorious smile, you turn to look at him, dropping the club on the ground. You wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you so much, Rafey. You're such a good coach."

"If I was a good coach, I wouldn't have spent half an hour searching the lake for the balls you hit in there." he teased, an arm encircling your waist. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "But I'll take the compliment."

You give him a pout, puckering up your glossed lips. "You're so mean to me, always teasing me."

"I'm sorry, baby." Rafe smirks, not sorry at all. Blue yes filled with mirth, he tilts your chin up with a finger. "Let me make up for it."

He brings his lips to yours, tongue-seeking entrance as you kiss him back. Teasingly, you bit his bottom lip gently, drawing out a soft gasp from the blond. Smiling against his lips, your hand drifts down his chest, down towards his hardening cock.

"Someone's excited." you kiss along his jaw, drawing out another small gasp from your boyfriend. Despite dating for a year, he still had the same reaction to your kisses, almost as if he was surprised you wanted to kiss him.

You squeeze his cock through his shorts, pressing your body against his, hiding the action from every golfer near you. Fingers trailing up and down the length of his cock, in a stroking motion, you bring your lips back to his, allowing Rafe's hand to grab your ass.

Rafe's hands wandered up beneath your dress and you pulled away, laughing as he dramatically groaned. You give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "No more kisses for you. I know you bet against me, fucker."

[https-florals]

you said, baby, no attachments - r.c.

part one || part two

word count: 2k

summary: after a very stupid, very impulsive night with rafe, you make a lot of  questionable decisions.

warnings: mentions of sex, suggestive!!! friends-with-benefits but without the friends, mentions of drinking, cursing, little angst, little fluff.

a/n:  FIRST EVER RAFE FIC!!!!! i have such a massive crush on drew starkey and tbh i’m shocked ive waited this long to write my bae rafe. anywayssss if this doesnt flop lol there may or may not be a pt 2 im working on!!! my plan is for this to have four parts, but that could change and i might condense it. this is based on casual by chappell roan!!

Stupid things have good outcomes all the time. JJ lives by that phrase, and after hearing it for years, it’s rubbed off on you. But apparently, that’s not a good excuse in an argument with him, and here you are, palms sweaty and slipping off your bike handles, repeating the words over and over and over like you’re trying to convince yourself they’re true.

Today’s stupid thing? Responding to a text from none other than Rafe Cameron. Okay, that’s been your stupid thing for about a month.

You had a little thing going with Rafe. It started at a party, a drunk hookup, neither participant quite realizing who the other was until they woke up in bed together. You had practically run from Tannyhill like the house was on fire, only after both of you fought a little, fucked a little more, and then promised never to speak of it again. You had thought that this pact also entailed speaking to each other, but about a week later Rafe caught you at work, smiled at you, and hit you with some stupid line you couldn’t quite remember. Something about being the prettiest girl in the room, which wasn’t exactly hard, considering you were indeed the only girl in the room as you worked the counter at the country club’s pro shop. When he slipped back his signed receipt to you, there were 10 digits scrawled across the bottom below his signature. 

“Rafe, what is this?” you had to ask, tone a mix between a laugh and a sigh. 

He shrugged, and attempted to grab his bag and run out, but you slid the fancy paper bag away from him. “I thought that we said we weren’t gonna talk to each other anymore,” you had stated softly, smiling at the way his cheeks tinted a little pink.

“Nah, I said I didn’t wanna talk about it,” he stressed, “But talking to you is way different.”

You just rolled your eyes and pushed the bag back to him, and he waved you goodbye as he left.

You can count on one hand all the interactions you’ve had with that boy, and that had to be the oddest. Well, maybe not as odd as having sex with him.

A week passed before you texted him. It wasn’t for anything really important, a scolding, if anything. All you did was remind him that again, he can’t just randomly take his shirt off while golfing. It’s a sophisticated establishment, the old ladies complain, blah, blah, blah. His response?

rafe c. - so you’re saying i distract you?

Yes, unfortunately, that is exactly what you’re saying.

The situations just get weirder, when the first time the two of you hang out is when you call him for a ride to the grocery store. No one’s at the Chateau, you’re out of gas, and every form of transportation you could possibly steal for a bit is with their respective owners. You doubt you could’ve balanced on JJ’s bike anyways.

The ride is a little awkward, but by the end you feel.. Comfortable. At peace, almost, in the Kook prince’s passenger seat with his hand ghosting over your knee. In the grocery store, it’s painfully obvious Rafe has never been shopping for food in The Cut. He’s wrinkling his nose at the cheap prepackaged salmon you buy, with generic bread crumbs. But then he helps you comb through the bell peppers to find decent ones, and carries your groceries to his truck. He even lets you play whatever you want over the aux.

You’re waking up with him in your bed the next morning, pushing him out the window so no one sees him.

And that’s how it starts, and how it continues- brief text convos, long hangouts, good sex and fake nonchalance. He stays true to what he said, and you don’t talk about it. To anybody. That was the whole thing- it was understood that it was a secret. No strings attached, forbidden kind of kook and pogue relations that would have your friends livid.

So why are you so nervous on this particular evening? Maybe it’s because Rafe let it slip to Sarah that you’re hooking up. Maybe cause Sarah just had to say something to John B, who then told JJ, who then fought with you in front of the entire group. Everyone knows, and everyone is telling you you’re crazy. It’s not something you can handle, so when you see that Rafe asked you to come over, you’re hopping on your bike and speeding to Tannyhill. 

When you get there, you automatically rush into Rafe’s room, a sweaty mess.

He’s laying on his bed, in just boxers as he scrolls on his phone. He jumps when you walk in, setting his phone down quick and standing up like you’re the queen or something.

Your gaze tracks to a bottle of lotion and a box of tissues on his nightstand, and you groan and fake gag as you flop facedown onto the mattress. 

There’s an almost soundless little intake of air, but you do hear it, and cut Rafe off before he can even speak. 

“I’m not helping you get off!” you declare loudly, and the boy visibly deflates.

“Come on,” he whines, like a little kid not getting his way. “You came in at the perfect time.”

You roll over so he’s in your peripheral vision, and huff. “I’m mad at you.”

He sticks his bottom lip out, a little mocking as he crawls onto the bed beside you. “Awe, what’d I do now?” Rafe lays on his side, head propped up on his hand as he watches you. He likes to watch the way his lamp reflects in your eyes, and how you roll your eyes everytime you catch him staring at you. His fingers creep up your side, but you push him off. Oh. You really are mad, he thinks.

“Why would you tell Sarah?” you ask, voice quiet as you stare him down. The apples of his cheeks turn a little pink, and his eyes widen.

“Uh, what did I tell her?” Rafe lies, because he remembers exactly what he said to Sarah, and the way her jaw dropped after he spoke.

“I just- I really like her, Sarah. Forget about the sex and all that shit. When I’m talking to her, it feels like…” He’s stumbling over his words, not quite able to say what he wants. “She’s fresh air, and I feel like I’ve been stuck in a room without windows, or some shit.” 

He was never much of a poet. He also remembers the vise-like grip she had on his arm as she told him she would kill him if he ever hurt you. Rafe promised he could never.

But right now he lies, lies and tries to level his voice. He’s a little shocked that you believe him, or at least don’t press the topic further.

“You told her we were sleeping together!” You hiss, lightly smacking him on the side of his head.

He winces, but internally he’s heaving a sigh of relief. He makes a mental note to never get drunk with his sister ever again as you continue to rant. It’s something about the Pogues wanting to kill him (nothing new), along with a couple of jabs about how he’s just the worst, and that he's annoying, and blah, blah, blah. Rafe isn’t really listening, rather just thinking about his stupid decisions. One of which is looking real pretty as she yells at him. Pretty enough to fall in love with. He absentmindedly tucks your hair behind your ear and you instantly exhale, losing your train of thought altogether in record time. It’s like you have the attention span of a damn goldfish around him.

You just groan again, and murmur, “I can’t stand you,” right before you press your lips to his.

Rafe laughs against you, pulling you on top of him in one smooth motion. “Good thing you’re sitting on top of me then.”

His hands slip under your shirt, and your fingers push through his hair. The calluses on his hands scrape against the soft skin of your stomach and catch on the lace of your bra. Hard hands for daddy’s money, you think. Your fingers tuck against his jawline, cradling his face while his tongue slips against yours, his lips curling up when you make any little noise.

You pull back to catch your breath, and Rafe just stares up at you, kind of punchdrunk.

“Rafe?”

“Mhm?” He reaches up to brush his thumb over your lips.

You’re silent for a second as you think about what you’re about to say. ‘What- What are we doing?”

Rafe’s mouth is parted, and you can’t quite decipher his expression as you watch his eyes flick over your face. He swallows, and says, “Whatever you want.”

You don’t really hear him, and blurt out, “I need this to be casual.”

“Casual?” he repeats.

“Strictly like, sex. No strings attached.”

He sits up, pulling you with him so you’re still on his lap but he’s eye level to you. He’s hard underneath you, but you ignore it as you continue to speak. 

“Okay, just sex. Why?”

It’s actually very hard to ignore, literally and figuratively. Rafe is thinking the same thing when you clear your throat and move a little on him, subconsciously. 

You shrug. “Listen, I don’t have the time for anything more than that. Plus, we know we couldn’t date, like ever.”

He nods, fake-stretching as a means to buck up against you. “And why couldn’t we date?” When you give him an incredulous look, he continues, “Just to play devil’s advocate. Not that I don’t agree with you, cause I totally do. I just wanna know what you’re like, thinking, if we’re on the same wavelength, or whatever…” He trails off, knowing he’s babbling and should stop.

You laugh a little nervously. “Okay, Cameron.” You take a deep breath, and hope that what you’re about to say makes sense. “I have an itch to scratch, and the only thing I want to do is scratch that itch.” You pause to think. “Itch that scratch?”

“You had it right the first time,” Rafe laughs, but the lilt of it is a little annoyed.

“Okay, whatever. Anyway, you’re good at scratching that itch.”

He grins with pride, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, and just the way he’s looking at you makes you squirm.

“Really good at scratching that itch,” you exhale a little shaky. “But y’know, I don’t really like you as a person.”

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide. “The fuck? Thanks a lot.”

“You’re an asshole, Rafe. Plain and simple. I’m not trying to be a bitch, but come on.” You’re thinking of all the times he’s been an absolute dick to your friends.

He’s thinking about all the things he’d lay down for you. “Not to you.”

Your words evidently sting him a bit, and you go red. You hadn’t really meant to hurt him.

You groan. “You know what I mean. My friends hate you. We just couldn’t work.”

Rafe doesn’t really know what to say. This isn’t really the way he thought this would go, but then again, what did he really expect? Everything is jumbled in his head, and all he wants to do is get high and forget about the conversation. But, even though you basically just told him that he's unlikable, you’re still regrettably pretty, and still on top of him. He grips your hips hard, holding you in place as he rolls against you. “So fuck buddies, but we can’t stand each other?” One hand snakes underneath your shirt to unclip your bra, and he does it faster than you can blink.

“Exactly,” you say somewhere in between both of your shirts coming off. “Just stress relief.”

His hands are hot all over you. There’s a hardness in his gaze that’s so different from the softness of his touch.

“We have to have rules,” you manage to state when you’re shimmying out of your shorts, breathing hard while Rafe toys with the little pink bow on your panties.

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.”

It’s a filler phrase, you think. He must desperate for you to shut up and fuck him, so he’s saying anything. 

He’s still thinking about how he’d do anything for you. Anything.

You still for a second to catch your breath, and say, “No feelings. No staying overnight. And we can’t go anywhere together that we would be seen.”

“Why not?” Rafe groans as your clothed heat slips over him.

“Rafe! People will talk. They’ll think…”

He presses a finger to your lips, effectively shushing you. “That we’re fucking? Well, hate to break it to ya, baby, but we kinda already are.”

“And no calling me baby.”

Rafe ignores you and slips his hand between your legs, and you forget that you’re supposed to hate him.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[which-item-poll]

Source: I have no idea but i got these images from @shirtsthatgohard

[justinspoliticalcorner]

The Proud Boys are back: How the far-right domestic terrorist group is rebuilding to rally behind Trump

Aram Roston at Reuters:

A dark SUV cruised past former President Donald Trump’s supporters near his Bedminster golf club in New Jersey on a windy April afternoon. Billowing from the vehicle were three flags: one for the Trump campaign, two others with the initials “PB” – the insignia of the far-right Proud Boys movement. Through the open windows, three Proud Boys flashed the “OK” sign with their hands, a gesture often associated with white supremacy and the far right. Trump’s fans cheered. Four men dressed in the signature black-and-yellow shirts of the Proud Boys spilled out of the SUV and began glad-handing the crowd like homecoming heroes. The Proud Boys are back. Four years after the failed effort to overturn Trump’s 2020 electoral defeat, the violent all-male extremist group that led the storming of Congress on Jan. 6, 2021, is rebuilding and regaining strength as Trump campaigns to return to the White House, according to interviews with eight Proud Boys, two U.S. law enforcement officials and four experts who track the group’s online activity.

Since the Jan. 6 Capitol riot, four former Proud Boys leaders have been convicted in federal court of seditious conspiracy, each sentenced to 15 or more years in prison. At least another 70 members were charged with participating in the violence. But that crackdown hasn’t stopped the Proud Boys. Some Proud Boys say they are preparing to emerge once again as a physical force for Trump, drawn to his hardline nationalism and convinced their leaders will be pardoned if he wins. Trump himself promises to pardon convicted Jan. 6 rioters if he’s elected. After last Thursday’s historic guilty verdict against Trump, an Ohio Proud Boys chapter vowed “war” and posted a video of Proud Boy street brawls that ended with the message, “Fighting solves everything.” A Miami chapter said, “Now, more than ever, we are recruiting!” Some posted images of the upside-down American flag symbolizing the “Stop the Steal” movement that falsely claims Trump won the 2020 election. One Proud Boy told Reuters that America is in a period of “calm before the storm.”

The group’s main Telegram channel, however, posted a message urging Proud Boys to stay calm and not get drawn into a trap and risk arrest. “Trump is, of course, getting railroaded but we will not be walking into any honey pots over this.” In recent weeks, the group has become more prominent at pro-Trump events, highlighting the risk of renewed violence in this year’s presidential election. Dozens of Proud Boys – some in body armor and helmets – marked the third anniversary of the Jan. 6 insurrection with a show of force at the statehouse in Columbus, Ohio. On April 20, nearly a dozen gathered at a rally for Trump’s Republican campaign in Wilmington, North Carolina.  More recently, groups of Proud Boys from two chapters mixed with tens of thousands of Trump supporters at a campaign rally in Wildwood, New Jersey, in May.

On a boardwalk near the entrance of the Wildwood rally, several Proud Boys identified themselves as members of the “New Jersey State” chapter. One said they were there to provide security and stop agitators from “disrespecting or assaulting everybody.” Inscribed on his wraparound sunglasses were the initials “POYB” – short for “Proud of Your Boy.” He wore a ring with the initials “PB” and a black shirt with the yellow laurel wreath of the Proud Boys. Three men from another chapter greeted them, their faces hidden by gaiter masks. The re-emergence of the Proud Boys at Trump’s political rallies and events coincides with polls showing a majority of Americans fearing political violence will flare around November’s election. It also comes when Trump’s use of incendiary rhetoric is inspiring his supporters to target his opponents – including judges, prosecutors and political rivals – in a wave of threats that’s unprecedented in modern American politics.

Trump himself has not ruled out the possibility of political violence if he loses in November. “If we don’t win, you know, it depends,” he said when asked by Time magazine in April if he expected violence after the election. If he’s jailed or put under house arrest, “I’m not sure the public would stand for it,” he said in a Fox News interview that aired on Sunday. “At a certain point there’s a breaking point.” Before the last election, Trump told the Proud Boys to “stand back and stand by.” Three months later, federal prosecutors say, the group’s leaders plotted and led the insurrection of the U.S. Capitol. Trump’s baseless, rigged-election claims inspired the gathering, and Trump himself urged the assembled crowd to march on the Capitol as Congress certified Democrat Joe Biden’s victory.

A spokesperson for Trump did not respond to questions for this story about his rhetoric, Jan. 6 and the Proud Boys. As the Proud Boys regroup, they’ve made changes designed to make them less vulnerable to law enforcement scrutiny, including doing away with layers of top leadership, according to interviews with members. The Proud Boys now operate with self-governing chapters in more than 40 states, with little apparent central coordination, members said. While the group’s structure has changed, its Canadian founder remains an inspirational figure to today’s Proud Boys. Gavin McInnes, a British-born far-right commentator who lives in New York, announced his resignation from the Proud Boys in 2018. But he remains deeply involved with the group, according to interviews with Proud Boys.

[...]

After McInnes stepped down, his successor, Henry “Enrique” Tarrio, raised the Proud Boys’ profile, pulling them from the fringe of the far-right toward the center of Trump-era Republican politics. Tarrio, a Floridian of Afro-Cuban descent, was sentenced last September to 22 years in prison for seditious conspiracy, defined as an effort by two or more people to overthrow the government or use force to hinder its operations, and other charges related to the Capitol riot. He has appealed.

Two criminal defense attorneys for Tarrio did not respond to emailed questions and phone calls. In the past, McInnes, Tarrio and a group of leaders dubbed “Elders” spoke publicly on the group’s behalf, set the agenda and guided its confrontations with left-wing groups around the country. They sat atop a formal structure and could disband Proud Boy chapters or expel members. Now, members say, the chapters are largely independent of each other and ban communications with the media. Most members who spoke to Reuters for this report did so on condition of anonymity. The group’s resilience has surprised some extremism experts. “The amazing thing is that so many people from the Proud Boys can be in jail and yet you have these active chapters,” said Heidi Beirich, co-founder of the nonprofit Global Project Against Hate and Extremism. “Traditionally when the head of a neo-Nazi or white supremacist group goes to jail or dies, the organization will collapse, but that does not seem to be happening with the Proud Boys.”

[...]

During the Trump administration, the Proud Boys engaged in large-scale street brawls with antifa – antifascists – and other leftist groups across the country, typically by taunting demonstrators to instigate a fight. They adopted the slogan “Fuck Around And Find Out,” and emblazoned the letters “FAFO” on hats and t-shirts. Some historians compare the Proud Boys to fascist European militias of the 1920s and 1930s such as the Brownshirts, a Nazi paramilitary group that helped bring Hitler to power in Germany. Proud Boys say they’re nothing like the Brownshirts and bear no resemblance to fascists. But street violence and extreme nationalism are features of both groups. In the weeks before the Capitol riots, some wore a patch inscribed with “RWDS,” short for “Right Wing Death Squad,” a term used to describe Central and South American paramilitaries who supported right-wing governments and dictatorships. [...]

After Trump left the White House, the Proud Boys turned to America’s culture wars. They clashed with supporters of abortion rights and vaccine mandates, and harassed organizers of Drag Queen Story Hours, where female impersonators read at libraries or bookstores to children. Fights often ensued. Since the 2021 Capitol attack, Reuters identified 29 incidents of political violence involving the Proud Boys, almost all of them centered around social issues. All but one of the eight cases in 2023 involved clashes between Proud Boys and left-wing activists at demonstrations supporting LGBTQ+ rights. The tally was based largely on news reports and court records of fights, assaults and other physical confrontations. This year, the Proud Boys have returned to politics. In the first three months of 2024, there have been far fewer Proud Boys public events than in the same period last year. But half of them have been pro-Trump and the rest have been political in nature, related to guns or immigration, said Kieran Doyle of the Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project, a U.S.-based nonprofit that monitors political violence.

On April 24, Proud Boys founder McInnes appeared at Columbia University’s pro-Palestinian protests. He told Reuters that the Proud Boys were not getting involved in the anti-Israel unrest, saying he was there to “ridicule” liberals by pretending to be a left-wing journalist. It didn’t work, he said, because people saw him and posted alerts on social media. “They recognized me and were scared.” There’s no authoritative count of Proud Boy members. McInnes claims there are about 5,000, down from 8,000 during Trump’s presidency but up from lows after the Capitol riot arrests. Official estimates of the Proud Boys’ strength vary widely, from 300 to 3,000 members, said a law enforcement source who has monitored the group. Reuters could not independently corroborate its numbers. Some former Proud Boys have abandoned the group for other, more overtly racist and violent groups, including the neo-Nazi Blood Tribe and the underground “Active Club” scene, a white supremacist male movement, one Proud Boy told Reuters.

Reuters has an informative article about far-right domestic terrorist group Proud Boys is rebuilding to rally behind convicted felon Donald Trump.

After the January 6th Insurrection, the group turned towards right-wing culture war items to launch protests, such as COVID mitigation measures (esp. vaccine mandates), drag story hours, and abortion access.

Read the full article at Reuters.

[grey-sides]

bentgrass

~2K, explicit, bottom!Steve

Billy's finished his shift, as luck would have it- Steve Harrington is at the tiki bar.

Billy's cut-off jeans and sweaty t-shirt might not exactly be course approved, but he shows up to work on time and doesn't fuck up the greens so the super lets him get away with it. He smirks as a couple rich ladies look his way and flush under their fake tans. He doesn't give a shit that they're looking at him though, his hair pulled back from his face by an old ass baseball cap.

He does flick his sunglasses down and flips his toothpick around because it makes them look away. They titter amongst themselves, while he tracks sod and sand through the pool area. The lifeguard is gonna give him shit tomorrow, but he still doesn't give a shit.

On the other side of the pool, sitting at the outdoor bar there's someone he's after. His shift is long over and Billy could head home, but that would involve passing this opportunity up.

There's a couple of players here, some of the first to tee off before Billy had even finished the back nine. He gets it, warm day in May, better to take the day off from the office and crack out a round.

He licks the sweat from his upper lip and pulls a rag out of his back pocket, dragging it across his face. It probably only dirties him more, judging by the looks a couple more rich ladies give him. They're probably homemakers, here for the pool and the tennis courts. They probably only pick up a set of clubs when their husbands need a foursome.

He tucks the rag away and skirts around the edge of the pool. It would be nice to take a dip, but he's a man on a mission. So he nods to the kid working the snack stand and heads over the bank to the lower tiki bar.

There's some vague island mix playing, more than a few businessmen who decided to have a long weekend lingering around it. Tables off to the side, overlooking the eighth hole.

And there he is- bored probably. Baby blue polo, khaki shorts, golf cleats changed out for loafers. His hair is a mess, probably run through a hundred times to kill the hat hair look. He has a cocktail in a plastic cup beside him, ice half melted and almost completely drunk.

Billy's not a fool, he didn't come here just for him, but damn he looks good bored like this. There's some old guy talking to him, probably someone from work. Steve's dad pays their membership and Steve likes to play whenever he has the chance to. Billy knows he's been here since early in the morning, before Billy had even finished the back nine because the pro shop told him.

No one here knows why Billy gives a shit that Steve is here, just that he does. So they always tell him. And Billy makes sure to get as good and fucking dirty as he possibly can.

"Harrington, heard you fucked up my second hole," he says, turning the heads of the businessmen. They're probably rich enough to buy Billy, but this is his turf. He's seeded it, treated it, evened it with precision. And Steve is the boss's son. So they turn away.

Steve shakes his head and picks up his cocktail as he gets up from his seat. "You didn't cut it straight."

"Not a chance, I spent hours perfecting that one," Billy replies, dangerous. He knows Steve put the divot back, but it's an in.

"How much do I owe you for seed then?" Steve replies, raising his brows. He pulls his nice leather wallet out and flicks it open.

Billy shakes his head and holds his hand up. "A drink'll do. No employee discount."

Steve snorts but he waves goodbye to his posse. They all nod back like they give a shit that he's leaving and tosses his cup into the nearest trashcan. He tucks his hands in his pockets as they head back up towards the pool.

"Nah, it was good today. I was only five short."

Billy looks surprised when he glances at Steve. "Really? Damn, you're getting good, Harrington!"

"Helps that I come here so damn often," Steve chuckles. He shakes his head and opens the gate that leads back to the hotel, holding it open for Billy. "You been here all day?"

"Course I have, grass doesn't mow itself," Billy scoffs.

Steve chuckles and looks over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching them when he turns to Billy. "You look like you've been. What did you do? Roll around in the sand trap?"

Billy shoves him and grabs for his wallet so he can pull out Steve's room card. "You're a fucking asshole. You're the one who likes this."

"And yet you keep doing it!" Steve laughs. He opens the door to the hotel and heads straight for the winding staircase. He has a permanent room here as part of the membership fee his dad pays. It always comes in handy, even though none of this is a secret anymore.

Steve grins at him when he slides the card against the handle, Billy takes the opportunity to crowd him up against the door. They're laughing as they stumble in together, cheeks flushed with delight.

"Mm, didn't think I'd get to see you today," Steve croons when he backs up, sliding his arms around Billy's shoulders. The door shuts behind them and all that's left is the whirr of the A/C.

"Nah, can't leave you high and dry after that good of a game," Billy replies. He slides his hands low, grabbing Steve's ass as he leans in to kiss him.

Steve tastes like whiskey when he slides his tongue into Billy's mouth, the expensive kind. He moans softly as Billy pushes him back towards the bed. It's fresh, far too clean for Billy to get into. He'll have to thank Gloria extra in the morning.

Steve falls back and pops the button on his shorts so they can be slid down past his ass. He huffs a laugh as Billy's t-shirt follows them and slides his hands up Billy's stomach and chest.

"Look at this man," Steve laughs, tugging on Billy's chest hair.

Billy dives his hands under Steve's shirt too to tug on his chest hair, laughing. "You're one to talk!"

It's easy, it's fun. It's so much different from how it used to be and Billy can't believe they found it on a golf course of all fucking places.

Billy works to get them both nude and reaches over for the bedside table where Steve has already set out lube and condoms. He stops to kiss Steve again on his way back, sliding his hands all over his body.

Steve hums into the kiss, smiling, giddy. They do this semi-frequently and go on real dates too, but sometimes it's just like the first time.

Billy does get off the bed after a moment to wash his hands, no matter how dirty Steve likes him, he's not giving him a fucking infection from shit like that.

"Billy!" Steve calls and Billy can hear the crack of the lube bottle from the bathroom.

"I'm cleaning up for you, princess! Giving you a nice man you can take home to Mom!"

"Don't make me think of my mom when I'm fingering myself, asshole!"

Billy laughs and dries his hands off. He wiggles his fingers when he walks back out, grinning at Steve. "Seems like you're still doing just fine to me."

Steve rolls his eyes, though they end up fluttering when he hits himself just right. He's three fingers deep, doing it just because he can and Billy loves to watch.

He busies himself with lubing up and rolling the condom on. He's heated, warm from the day and made warmer by watching Steve. He shivers a little and leans down to kiss Steve while he sees how far he can push himself.

"My turn," Billy breathes, steadying his hand so he can pull it out of Steve. He brushes their noses together and sighs softly.

Billy pins Steve's wrist above his head and uses his other hand to help him get into a good position. Face to face, but it's fine because Billy can kiss him this way.

"So fucking hot, even in your dumb little shorts," he murmurs. He lines himself up, lets Steve take his dick to guide him in.

"It's your fucking course's oh fuck rules!" Steve protests while Billy pushes himself in. He loves to watch Steve's mouth open and close a couple of times while he tries to center himself.

"No more work talk," Billy says and his voice is only a little strangled. Mostly. He bottoms out and leans over Steve to kiss him silly again.

Steve lifts his leg so he can hold Billy in place and stares back at him when they break apart. Then it's the push and pull. Billy moves at a somewhat slow pace, but hard like Steve likes it.

Steve does his best to move with him, though it can get a little awkward. He licks his lips and opens his mouth, panting out moans with each thrust.

"So fucking good," Billy praises, his hair hanging down around his cheeks.

"Yeah- right there," Steve begs. He arches his throat back and it's Billy's cue to lean in, to nip at the skin above his Adam's apple. He likes to leave it a little red, a little sore so Steve will fidget about it later and whine. Billy loves to listen to him whine.

Steve's other hand wiggles between their stomachs and he starts to stroke himself too. He almost always takes a little longer than Billy, which Billy absolutely does not mind.

"Shit," Billy breathes. His pace picks up a little while he chases that feeling. His balls keep slapping Steve's ass, but he swears they're tightening up against him. His eyes flutter shut and he moans, bending over Steve some more.

"That's it," Steve coaxes, voice wrecked. "Come on, give it to me."

Billy huffs through his lips, tightens his hold on Steve's wrist. He gets a little frantic, a little sloppy and then-

"Oh fuck, Steve," he grunts, fucking his hips hard as he cums. Right up to the point it becomes too much.

Steve laughs when Billy pulls out, half delirious as his hips come off the bed. His hand moves faster and Billy watches as he squirms until he cums too. He makes a mess across his chest and hand, but he smiles lazily when he catches Billy's eyes.

"Good?" Steve asks, reaching for a tissue to wipe his hand off.

Billy nods lazily, eyes slipping closed for a moment. It's been a long fucking day.

"Good." Steve rolls onto his side and leans up to kiss Billy's jaw. He needs a shave and something for dinner soon.

"I wanna take a shower and then we can order room service?"

"Can I have the fluffy towel?" Billy asks, yawning around the words.

Steve laughs as he sits up and pats Billy's chest. "Anything for you, tiger."

Billy listens to the bathtub start to run and forces himself to sit up. He hums as he makes his way to the bathroom, slapping Steve's skinny white ass when he passes him. He holds up the condom and drops it into the trashcan.

"Oh and by the way-?" Billy begins.

"Hm?" Steve asks, bent over to make sure the water is nice and warm for them.

"Seed's free of charge."

"Billy!" Steve whines, but he's laughing when he kisses Billy again.

[dystini]

Indycar Driver Lore

Indycar Driver Lore Masterlist

Scott Thomas McLaughlin

Birthdate: June 10, 1993 Hometown: Christchurch, New Zealand Residence: Charlotte, North Carolina Height/Weight: 6’0”/185lbs

Rookie Year: 2021

Team: Penske

Follow him on: Instagram Twitter Twitch

Very active on Twitter. Frequently snarky. Very much worth a follow. Frequently streams Iracing on Twitch.

Career Stats

2020: Team Penske - 35th Overall 2021: Team Penske - 14th Overall 2022: Team Penske - 4th Overall 2023: Team Penske - 3rd Overall

Cohosted (as of 2024 on indefinite hiatus) fan-favorite behind-the-scenes video series Bus Bros with teammate Josef Newgarden. Bus Bros Playlist

2020 tested with Team Penske at Sebring and Texas. Raced St Petersburg. 3 time series/season champion in Supercars

IMSA 2023 Tower Motorsports – Daytona 24, won Sebring 2024 Tower Motorsports – Daytona 24

-married his wife, Karly Paone (originally from Long Island, NY.), in Malibu, California, in December 2019. They have a cavoodle named Chase. -Enjoys football, iRacing, puzzles, traveling, and golf. He has a weekly golf round with Nascar driver and Team Penske teammate Ryan Blaney -Racing heroes are Rick Mears in Indycar and Greg Murphy in V8 Supercars -Cohosts fan-favorite behind the scenes video series Bus Bros with teammate Josef Newgarden -Carolina Panthers fan, but he also likes the New York Knicks for basketball -played in the 2023 PGA Arnold Palmer Pro-Am Invitational -Celebratory rolls from the car he sometimes has referred to as a "Wombat Roll"

Iconic/memorable moments

Scott McLaughlin's Celebrates with a Shoey at Road America | 2022 NTT IndyCar Series Scott McLaughlin Wins First Indycar Race | Firestone Grand Prix Of St. Petersburg 2022 Scott cannot handle spicy food, as seen in Bus Bros, ep9 The inflatable sheep Month of May prank Jeff the Eagle (2:15) Scotty the cow? INSIDE THE RACE // SCOTT MCLAUGHLIN AT LONG BEACH Over the Wall: Scott McLaughlin, Ash Vandelay chat off-track activities | INDYCAR Ep. 39 - Indy Car Driver Scott McLaughlin | Real Talk with Mike Burke CHEVY PACE CAR // SCOTT MCLAUGHLIN AND SIMON PAGENAUD 2022 Indianapolis 500: Scott McLaughlin crashes hard into wall after turn three | Motorsports on NBC Scott Mclaughlin's In-laws and In Awe of Indy 500 Scott McLaughlin Explains "Tall Poppy" Syndrome | Romain Grosjean What’s Scott McLaughlin’s last Google search? Scott McLaughlin on his COTA IndyCar test Indy 500 Walk & Talk with Scott McLaughlin and RACER's Marshall Pruett presented by Skip Barber The Indy 500 Interview: Scott McLaughlin Relive Scott McLaughlin and Romain Grosjean's IndyCar battle in St. Pete | Motorsports on NBC 2022 Texas Motor Speedway Finish // Josef Newgarden and Scott McLaughlin Q&A with Scott McLaughlin at 2020 IndyCar Spring Training OVER THE WALL // SCOTT MCLAUGHLIN AT PLAYING THE NEWLYWED GAME WITH THE BUS BROS: SCOTT MCLAUGHLIN & JOSEF NEWGARDEN!!!!PORTLAND INTERNATIONAL RACEWAY

Scott McLaughlin Wins In iRacing Challenge Finale Will Power Bustin Balls of Scott McLaughlin. Hilarious! Google Search - Scott McLaughlin Pennzoil Yellow Submarine Traditions with INDYCAR Driver Scott McLaughlin Doug and Drivers season 2: Scott McLaughlin Josef Newgarden and Scott McLaughlin | Hot Seats with Hinch PLAYING THE NEWLYWED GAME WITH THE BUS BROS: SCOTT MCLAUGHLIN & JOSEF NEWGARDEN!!!!

2024 Cheating scandal Team Penske hit with penalties over Push to Pass use; O’Ward declared St. Petersburg winner How Team Penske took push-to-pass beyond the limit Scott’s Statement McLaughlin responds to St. Petersburg disqualification

Scott is known as a friendly and humble guy in the paddock who seems to get along with most drivers. He's got a playful personality. He likes to celebrate his wins with a "wombat roll", or doing a somersault in victory lane when he exits his car. While appearing in inflatable costumes and a pink "Glamping Squad" t-shirt in episodes of Bus Bros, Scotty still has fun without his partner-in-crime Josef Newgarden; he wore an inflatable Pikachu costume to a race in Australia during the 2022 IndyCar offseason, and his wife wore a matching Pikachu hoodie dress. Scotty might be the easygoing guy everyone wants to have a beer with off-track, but on track he is a fierce competitor. He and the Thirsty 3's (his #3 Penske squad) enjoy a cult following.

Credit – @dottieapple

Fanfic Lore

Nickname: ScottyMac

Frequently paired with teammate Josef Newgarden. As of 2024 there has been a cooling of their friendship as Josef pulls back to focus on racing/the championship.

[amanalive]

Going to Kip Moore Friday night at out golf tournament post play party. Listening to his stuff sitting outside enjoying the beautiful night. Weather lady says stormy morning. We have 208 amateurs and 52 pro golfers looking for a good pro am day. Paid a lot of money to play.

Pro Am director just called. His mom had a heart attack.

So I retired after 23 years of running volunteers and the pro am.

Damn right I’m jumping in. I got his back. Fantastic guy. Praying for his mom.

Number one priority has to be family. The closer I get to retirement, the more I know that. Feel that.

Tomorrow will suck. But less for us than others. And I get to rep this awesome pink shirt

[thewolfwarriors]

Florida!HTTYD Book AU

(specifically Florida Panhandle! AU) 

Like Hiccup, I too grew up around an archipelago of islands full of venomous and dangerous reptiles! (Had a couple of close calls too!) I went kayaking, boating, hiking, fishing, you name it! Unfortunately, growing up in Florida meant I had to deal with Floridians. So, again, like Hiccup, I ran into lots of...characters.

This idea started off from me making a joke to my brother about how Madguts would be a Trump supporter and drive a Ford ages ago. Then it all went downhill from there. (Honestly, I could write a whole post on Florida!Madguts alone.) Someone in the reblogs of one of my posts also wished for it. This one goes to y’all.

Incoming cursed-as-hell long-ish post:

Main Characters:

Hiccup - from a military family, can't go in the military because he can't pass any of the boot camps, works with his friend Fishlegs, obsessed with Marine Biology, scored 6s on the FCAT every year,

Fishlegs - Works at Publix, Wafflehouse, Coram's, Whataburger, etc., almost dies regularly from horse and yellow fly bites,

Stoick - giant, fat beach dad vibes, retired vet, always wears a big polo or Ron Jon Surf Shack Shirts with polarized sunglasses on, boomer Facebook profile, Corona beers, Margaritaville, drives a pontoon called the Fat Penguin, sold his old sail boat the Peregrine Falcon to Humungous Hotshot,

Baggybum - Marines, never takes off his raybans, goes hunting constantly, camo jackets, guns guns guns, Bass Pro Shop

(Basically, Stoick loves saltwater and Baggy loves freshwater)

Snotlout - Military brat, sports scholarships, ROTC, loves the beach, riding four-wheelers and going mudding, 

Bertha - school bus driver, ROLL TIDE, "You might be a redneck if...", Basically just Nanny-Maw, “plaid shirts with the sleeves ripped off” lesbian vibes, Blue Ribbon or Busch beer I can’t decide

Camicazi - loves the mud, always doing dangerous stunts on whatever motorized equipment she can get her hands on, constantly catching frogs/possums/snakes and brings them inside

Others:

Madguts - definitely wears a MAGA hat, drives a Full-Size Heavy-Duty 2022 Super Duty F-450 King Ranch® Pickup (tailgates EVERYONE), spits tobacco, hot boxes his trailer on a regular basis, runs a crime ring in the boondocks(drugs, dog fights, or simply selling stolen goods), divorced 4 times, Rob Zombie, meth, breeds Pitbulls,

Gumboil - also spits tobacco, Malboros, always rides shotgun with Madguts in his Full-Size Heavy-Duty 2022 Super Duty F-450 King Ranch® Pickup, Alabama Crimson Tide merch, has like 14 trucks he swears he's gonna sell and turn around in his yard, always speaks in inappropriate countryisms

Needless to say, but they're both huge gun enthusiasts and drink Bud.

Thuggory - listens to Butt Rock and Pop Country, Y'all Means All, camo and plaid long sleeves, well fitted Levi's, does everything with his Dad

Humungous Hotshot - Lives on the Peregrine Falcon, “#saltlife”, hooked on fishing, Hooters, sandles with socks underneath, Hawaiian shirts, GOLF, Panama Jack,

Tantrum - not even from Florida, prefers to be in the Keys, comes up to the Panhandle with Humungous so he can see his friends, "#beachbabe", This Video, Ed Hardy

Gobber the Belch - Thunderbeach, drives Harley’s, drives to Alabama to buy illegal fireworks, scary Wafflehouse chef, also Snotlout and Hiccup’s football coach/history teacher

[tripthelightfandomtastic]

Not so Wild Wednesday, but I want to go to Bass Pro Shop with Sam and look at the fish

I HAVE THE SOUTHERN URGE TO TAKE ALL FOUR OF THEM TO BASS PRO SHOP.

They'd all stand their watching the fish for forever. Jake would be climbing all over the boats they have for sale, talking about which one he'd want. Taking them all to the laser gun range to shoot the fake animals that pop up. Buying fudge!!! Getting Danny some new hats and golf wear, they'd all probably get some sort of t-shirt. Josh and Sam just keep talking about how ginormous the place is and all the taxidermy. We'd probably get some camping stuff for an upcoming trip too. Overall, I think they'd go nuts.

[ayoooo3]

Saturday Snippet (it’s a day late. I missed Saturday completely) aka take the idea and run. I’ve got a million half baked ideas in my head that I don’t have the time or bandwidth to actually complete, so if you like it, it’s yours (just share the final product!)

*********

Caddyshack Steddie

Pro golfer Steve Harrington. One of the youngest golfers on the tour. He’s good, and he knows it. Charming too, and he knows that as well. He has a reputation on the tour for leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him. Enter Eddie Munson, head groundskeeper who is super passionate about making sure his course looks amazing and provides the perfect setting for the tour. Problem is no one takes him seriously when they come into town because Eddie doesn’t look the part. There’s no polo shirt or khaki shorts, at best he’ll rock some obnoxious plaid shorts and a plain black tee, but on most days he’s in cut offs and a band shirt. The owner of the course tolerates it because Eddie is the best at what he does. Eddie’s excellent at the job, and he knows it. Oh yeah, and he’s a shameless flirt too.

It’s a disaster from the start when Steve arrives at the course and is face to face with someone he assumes treats golf like a joke. For Eddie’s part he assumes Steve is just another stuck up pretty boy who can’t look past his own rich boy prejudices. It’s hate at first sight and both Steve and Eddie are spending way too much time and energy trying to one up the other man or take him down a peg. Neither one has any idea what they’re about to get into or how it will totally change their lives.

(Murray is obviously the Rodney Dangerfield character in this AU.)

[moonwatchuniverse]

Apollo 14... Omega & Rolex together to the Moon ! During the 1971 Apollo 14 mission, the astronauts not only wore a NASA-issued Omega Speedmaster chronograph but the CMP Stu Roosa and LMP Ed Mitchell had choosen to wear their personal Rolex GMT-master 1675 pilot watch as well... Rolex and sports have always had a great link and 50 years ago “Golf”  became the sport of almost every astronaut as in 1968, astronaut chief Donald “Deke” Slayton requested that he could play with other astronauts  and  approached Golf-pro Danny Lawler to give the Apollo astronauts some  private lessons. Veteran-astronaut Alan Shepard was a keen golf player since the Mercury days and had the idea to play golf on the Moon ! On  Apollo 14, Commander Shepard carried a make-shift Iron-6 attached to a  geologic sample stick and hit two golf balls on the Moon. The make of  the Golf balls was never revealed but the Golf stick sits in the  U.S.G.A. museum in New Jersey - USA. In fact Danny Lawler was also a  representative for the Alligator-logo Lacoste shirts and that’s how the  Apollo astronauts ended up wearing Lacoste polo shirts. Note NASA astronaut/Admiral Alan Shepard wore his personal Rolex GMT-master 1675  Pepsi GMT pilot watch in this May 1973 image. (Photo: UPI)  

[ckygetsjobs]

make you mine 

Rut ru x male reader

authors note: sorry in advance this is so fucking self indulgent and I totally have the hots for him enjoy I guess I couldn’t hold it in anymore

you saw his fucking ass everyday at the golf course, today wasn’t any different. So why did it feel different, even when it started the same way as every other day. You got up and did the same tasks, but it was different because he fucking talked to you. Like actually said something, and you didn’t want to admit you were already a puddle because you’ve been admiring his hot ass from afar for what seemed like an eternity.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him, whenever you went to bed you’d think about his annoying ass voice that wouldn’t shut up for nothing and imagining shutting him up in the best way possible. But the thing was you didn’t know if he liked chicks, and how embarrassing would it be if you made a move on him and then it turned out he wasn’t gay. Very embarrassing, definitely not worth it.

You went to the golf course practically every day just to get a glimpse of him. You were just as bad at golf as he was, and it warmed your heart. Most of the guys at the golf course who were rich and practiced all the time were pros. But you didn’t get rich how they did, you got rich because you thought up the worst thing to get rich off. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, who cares what those dicks thought, you only had your eyes on one billionaire asshole. 

The thing he said shouldn’t even that big of a deal, but it was to you. He just told you to hand him a golf ball. So you did, but you must have been staring for too long because he had a look on his face that said he knew what you were up too. You almost sweared loudly, this man was going to be the death of you. And his stupid suit that he somehow pulled off in a way where you just wanted to jump his bones. 

He smirked, looking at you up and down, you were trying so hard to keep it together but it seemed like that wouldn’t happen. You never wore nothing fancy, you weren’t concerned with that sort of thing, just some old ass paint stained pants and an oversized shirt. And Rut Ru… his ass was always dressed to impress, it sure did impress you. “Like what you see,” he raised an eyebrow. You wanted to say yes so bad but you didn’t. You didn’t say anything. But he must have noticed the look on your face, the needy one, and the grip of your hand on your golf club. Because he fucking grabbed it from you, throwing it somewhere that didn’t matter. And just grabbed you so fucking hard, and just smashed his lips against yours, like a need, like he wanted it for so long. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” you said against his lips, and you could feel his smirk, you knew that’s what he liked to hear. You gripped his curls, and dug into his scalp. He moaned in response, and you just kissed him harder. 

When he quit kissing you he still had a death grip. “I better see you tomorrow at my place,” he announced and just gave you a piece of paper with his address on it and he walked fast until he was out of view. You couldn’t even move. You just stared at the fucking piece of paper… it had his address on it… and he wanted to see you tomorrow at his place. Who knew what could happen, you knew of course. You just carefully folded the piece of paper and stuck it in your pocket, whistling a toon you heard on one of his lame ass commercials. And seeing him did happen, and it kept happening more and more until you saw each other practically every day and you even horribly golf together. And you realized he is indeed an asshole, but he’s an asshole you’re fucking.

[thelonesomequeen]

Why did Chris flew Comercial flight from China to us in 2014 like I saw a pic of him with people in the plane he wore the red fennel shirt which I think he still has it.

I’m assuming for the golf event he went to unless I’m forgetting something? 🦎