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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months

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purity ring

words: 2.5k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, reader is virgin and religious, purity rings/waiting until marriage, virginity/innocence kink, female receiving oral, fingering, p in v sex, protected sex <3 (yay! for once!), one scene takes place in a church

you are perfect. an innocent angel, untouched by anyone. you wore a silver purity ring firmly on your finger, gifted to you by your father on your 16th birthday. you don’t take the promise you made that day lightly, and while you have had one serious boyfriend in high school, you have remained abstinent.

rafe overlooked you at first, seeing you as a sweet harmless girl, but didn’t take any real interest until you grew out of your teen years, your body developing without him realizing until he saw you at the beach one day, wearing what would be a modest swimsuit if it wasn’t for you wide hips and large breasts, threatening to spill out even with your high neckline.

rafe took a liking to you right then and there. he knows how pure you are, how you are a proud virgin and don’t partake in any of the partying or drinking like most of the people your age, even though you are over 21. it may be legal, but you always say it doesn’t feel right, and only have a bit of wine at dinner on occasions.

“hello.” rafe says as he sits down on the church pew next to you. you give him a confused look. you have never seen rafe at your church before, and you thought that he wasn’t religious, but you are never one to judge, so you wipe the confused look off your face and give him a pleasant smile instead.

“hello, rafe. it’s been a while.” “i know, haven’t really seen you since high school.” he says.

“i don’t think we have the same interests.” you giggle. if you were more into partying, you’re sure you would see rafe a whole lot more often.

“really?” rafe questions. “you didn’t develop a love for golf since we graduated?”

you scoff, shaking your head. rafe smiles at you, and you are surprised to find yourself liking his attention.

“how about mini golf?” he asks. “i could take you after the service. get ice cream too.”

you go to say no, not wanting to hang out with someone as wild and crazy as him, but you remember your vow to god to not judge others, and end up agreeing.

rafe smirks at you when the pastor starts his sermon and you turn your attention away from rafe.

hes sweet throughout the whole date, respectful of your boundaries and chatting with you with seemingly real interest. he asks you when you finish all 18 holes of mini golf if you’d be willing to see him again.

you say yes, which leads to more and more dates until you’re comfortable with rafe, even going as far to officially begin courting him.

you fall head over heels, in love with the attention he gives you until you're kissing in the back seat of his truck, his hands moving all over your body.

“wait, rafe-” you pull away with a gasp. “we can't.”

rafe frowns but nods. he's been progressing the physical touch more and more, trying to get you to open up to him, but every time things start to get hot and heavy, you stop him.

he is determined to change things, especially when he realizes he's lost sight of why he became interested in you in the first place. he wants to claim you, not just court you, and he's quickly falling just as hard.

rafe convinces you to spend the night. a movie marathon and cuddle session. you tell rafe that you need a separate bed to sleep in, but he's hoping to convince you to share one with him.

rafe ignores the movie playing on the tv, his head buried in your shoulder, pressing kisses to your neck.

“rafey.” you giggle and squirm when he sucks a spot onto your neck.

“come on, baby.” rafe begs, moving to kiss your jaw. “haven't i proven how serious i am about us?” he questions, his hand resting on your thigh, pushing it closer to your core. you can't help the moan that escapes your lips, your body betraying your mind.

“just let me make you feel good. you'll love it, i promise.”

you think it over, briefly glancing at the ring on your finger, at the promise you made.

“baby.” rafe cups your hand in his, taking the ring out of your sight as he captures your mouth in a kiss.

he moves so you're laying down against his pillows, covering your body with his, hovering over top of you.

he moves one hand to under your knee, pulling it so you have to wrap it around his waist. rafe keeps kissing you, keeps you breathless and dizzy as he presses his hips into you, letting his hard length rub over your core.

you moan into his mouth, looping your arms around his shoulders.

“please.” rafe says against your lips. you blink your eyes open to meet his bright blue ones. “i love you baby.”

you melt at rafes word, giving him a nod of permission. “i love you too.” you coo.

rafe presses his lips against yours, letting you get lost in the kiss as he continues to grind into you. he can tell from the way your other leg loops around him that you like the feeling a lot.

rafe lets a hand wander underneath your top, feeling the smooth skin of your stomach before moving higher, cupping your breast over your bra.

you reach behind your back and unclip it, letting rafe continue to feel you up as you take the bra off from under your shirt, tugging it away.

rafe grips your breast, toying with your nipple immediately, not letting you think too hard about what he's doing, needing to keep you focused on what new part he's touching.

he makes sure to give both sides of your chest equal attention. he wishes he could pull away from the kiss and rip your shirt off, wanting to see your tits bare, but you keep your arms locked around his shoulders as you kiss.

“baby, i can make you feel even better with my mouth.” rafe says, pressing kisses to your cheek.

“n… no.” you whine. “don't want you to look.” you feel enough shame as it is letting rafe defile you this way, and you certainly aren't confident enough to have him seeing you naked.

“how about i turn the tv off?” rafe offers. the light is already off in the room, and theres only a bit of moonlight peaking through the drawn curtains, the tv providing all the light in the room. you nod as he reaches for the remote, clicking the movie off.

“wait-” you realize that he's forgetting something. “you need to use a condom.” while you may be giving up your virginity to rafe, you certainly will not be letting him get you pregnant before marriage.

“yeah.” rafe fumbles in the dark through his nightstand, pulling a condom out and setting it on the bed for when he's ready.

rafe leaves your shirt on, hoping it will make you feel more comfortable as he tugs on your pajama shorts. it's a bit of a fumble in the dark, but he eventually gets them off.

he reaches for your underwear next, feeling the frilly fabric against his fingers. rafe has to pause before taking them off to squeeze his cock through his pants, needing relief. he's finally so close to his goal, finally close to taking you, to being your first.

“just tell me if anything hurts.” rafe says, taking two fingers and running them through your slit, feeling how wet he's made you.

“rafe!” you shout.

“does it feel good baby?” rafe asks, pressing a finger against your entrance, needing to open you up quickly before he can't control himself and hurts you by forcing his cock inside you too soon.

“yeah, feels really good.” you moan out. rafe moves his thumb to your clit, glad he knows pussies well enough to find it easily in the dark. he let's the sudden overwhelming pleasure take over your mind as he plunges his finger in.

he can't help the groan he lets out when he feels your tightness wrap around his digit. he begins to pump his finger, his thumb continuing to massage your clit, smiling at your nonstop moans. he's sure that you've never even touched yourself before by your reaction.

rafe drops himself onto his stomach between your legs, needing to have your sweetness on his tongue. he swears you taste better as he licks around your folds, knowing that you haven't been sullied by other men.

he moves his thumb in favor of licking at your clit, pushing a second finger into your cunt as soon as he feels a bit of give.

you reach down, gripping rafes hair in your hands. you push his face further into your pussy, his fingers stretching you out when he begins to scissor them.

“can't wait to be inside you.” rafe says, his voice vibrating against your skin.

“want you now.” you tell rafe. you need more than just his fingers pumping into you, need to feel connected in the most intimate way possible.

rafe moves quick, shucking his pajamas and underwear off. his cock is finally freed. he takes your hand in his, wrapping it around his shaft while he kneels against the bed.

you aren't fully sure what to do to make rafe feel good, but you stroke your hand up and down, and judging from the sound rafe makes, it feels good.

rafe can feel your purity ring as you stroke him. he grabs the condom and takes it out of its wrapping, pushing your hand out of the way as he slides the rubber over his cock.

“gonna take you in this position, as long as it feels good.” rafe says, moving back between your legs. he gets a pillow and shoved it under your hips, raising them up and hopefully making it easier for you to take him.

“rafey.” you whine, hand reaching out for his. rafe loops his fingers through yours, using his other hand to line his cock up with your entrance. rafe moves slowly, his breathing heavy and deliberate as he splits you open, his heavy cock touching places no one has ever gone before.

“does it hurt?” rafe asks once he's seated all the way inside of you.

you whine in response, causing rafe to frown. as much as he wants to make you his, he doesn't want to put you in any sort of pain. he leans over your body, pressing his lips to your cheeks.

“im sorry baby, but you're doing so good for me.”

“just-” you gasp when you move your hips a little, making him touch a new part of you. “just give me a minute.”

“take your time.” rafe says. “i love you.” he thought he was just saying it to get you into his bed, but rafe finds himself really meaning it.

you breathe deeply for a minute before pressing your lips to rafes. “you can move now.”

rafe hums against your lips, continuing to kiss you as he begins with gentle thrusts, wanting to build you up. he finds much more patience within himself now that he's been inside of you.

you move your arms back to rafes shoulders, pressing your nails into his back, dragging them down his back when his thrusts increase in tempo.

“scratching me already? what a dirty girl.” rafe chuckles into your ear.

“shh.” you complain, brows scrunching together, not wanting to think about how dirty you are being at the moment, wanting to focus on how good rafe is making you feel rather than the fact that you're letting go of your virtue.

“my innocent little girlfriend, squeezing around my cock.” rafe continues to tease you.

“it feels so good.” you say, as if it's some sort of excuse as to why your cunt is repeatedly pulsing around his dick.

“i know it does baby. your pussy feels so good too. so tight for me, my little virgin.” rafe presses his lips against yours in a kiss. “although i guess you're not a virgin anymore.”

you cry out when rafe presses his thumb back to your clit, whatever response you had brewing cut off as he begins to thrust with earnest now, able to slide in much easier than when he first got inside of you.

“gonna cum for me?” rafe questions. he can tell from the way your body has gone tight that you must be close.

“i-i think so.” you whine, feeling a rush of wetness flood to your pussy, rafes thumb pushing your clit perfectly as your orgasm rushes over your body, a loud moan forcing its way out of your mouth, your entire body shaking with the force.

your cunt is squeezing so tightly rafe almost can't thrust his cock back into you, but he manages to force himself through your walls to release into the condom deep into you, your pussy milking him. you would surely be bred if it wasn't for the thin layer of rubber.

rafe pulls his cock out slowly as you breathe deeply underneath him, coming down from the ecstacy that he just brought you to.

rafe moves to pull his condom off, discarding it in the trash.

“can we put our pajamas back on to sleep?” you ask as rafe begins to get back into bed. he can't help but smile at you, still so shy even after he had his mouth buried between your legs.

“of course.” rafe gives you your underwear and shorts back, eyes adjusted somewhat to the dark, but still not able to make out many details as he redresses himself, but leaves his shirt off.

rafe slides into bed next to you, pulling you in close. you fall asleep almost instantly, which rafe is glad about, not giving you a moment to regret what just happened on a tired brain.

rafe hears your breathing change and grabs your hand, sliding your silver purity ring off your finger. it's his now.

you don't overthink the act when you wake up in the morning, especially when rafe sinks to his stomach and eats you out in the morning light until you cum on his tongue.

you even go as far to thank him for showing you how good sex can be for a couple. you are certain rafe will become your husband, and you suppose you are just starting your martial acts early.

you are walking with rafe through a crowded restaurant the next day. he's treating you to a nice dinner when you realize he has a silver chain hanging off his neck.

you furrow your brow, tugging it out from underneath his shirt, gasping when you realize that your purity ring is hanging around his neck.

“well, it's not like you could keep wearing it.” rafe smirks, leaving the ring out for everyone to see.

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idesofrevolution · 5 months

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Never Sleep with Your Phone On

Throughout recorded history, humans have been terrified of the dark. They created stories of sordid creatures of the night that would creep out from beneath your bed and drag you to some subterranean lair to languish in your final moments; or slither out of your mirror if you left it uncovered when your lights were extinguished to steal your soul from your snoring lips. The tales and cryptids across all cultures were all effective in terrifying their communities once the sun set on the horizon. Though that is not necessarily to say that every tale was crafted from pure imagination.

When technology bloomed, humans believed that the horrifying superstitions of yore were long behind them. They had evolved past the primitive fears of what lurks in the shadows, where in reality they had become complacent, arrogant, and lulled. Certainly some of the eldritch creatures had subsided, as all creatures do eventually. Though for every dead legend, a new myth sprouts, and each of those grew and evolved right there along with us. Which, of course, brings us to Asher.

Asher West was, by all accounts, a fairly normal guy. Graduated from high school, going straight into college on a modest academic scholarship. He played frisbee golf with his friends on the weekends, studied hard from 9 to 5, and was seldom seen without a cup of Starbucks in the mornings. He had a sizeable social media following, as was expected for someone with a traditionally handsome visage and adequately charismatic personality. Every day he'd happily post a quick selfie, posting for his thousands of admirers a run of the mill shirtless pic, often without so much as a filter. It'd almost become muscle memory for him: tap the camera icon, snap the pic, post with some benign emojis as the caption, and boom. 900 likes as the day meandered on. Did it provide him with a momentary burst of endorphins? Yes. Was it satisfying? Somewhat, at least he thought so. Years of his staggeringly average life had been all but usurped by this second life online, where he was glamorous, exciting, and adored.

It was so much easier to live in that fantasyland than to truly be present in the real world around him. He, as many of us are, was living his life as someone else- and a life that spectacled easily caught attention. It was easy to come across him in the sea of countless names and faces. It was easy to stumble upon that pretty face. It was easy find, attracting more than just starry eyed fans. Skulking in the void between lines of 1 and 0, buried deep in the infinite cosmic vacuum of the world electric and technological, another pair of eyes would befall him.

It had slinked into his vast sphere rather quickly, and it had begun to watch. Watching each and every 'tasteful' selfie, every vapid thought that he'd post, and every like and pin he'd make, it watched him with empty, expressionless black eyes from within a fragment of his phone's memory. It studied him, curious at first. Things of its nature were always curious, always inclined to watch and analyze and replicate. Even as he slept, his phone siphoning it's charge from it's cable, it would read. The more it saw, the more it had learned about Asher. In fact, it knew more of Asher than perhaps he himself was aware of, if not able to admit.

It had seen those intimate moments he'd taken careful measure to hide from the vast majority of those watching eyes. Second accounts under pseudonyms, gave way to countless of hidden alternate lives he lived: Tumblr blogs dedicated to bad-boy thrist traps and queer erotica, Twitter accounts cataloguing pictures and videos of his closest kept kinks, a well used and well loved Chaturbate account with his face tastefully cropped out of frame... all these lives immortalized in the endless archives of the internet. And after all it's patient watching, all the hours of analyzing, all the months of consuming his information, it had grown an attachment.

Asher had come home late one night. Not unusual for him, as the occasional party wouldn't derail his real life ambitions. After a few libations, and no small amount of cannabis, he'd made his way back home to his small apartment above the corner store. Just as he'd done numerous times before, he stripped himself of his shirt, pulling his camera from his jeans pocket, and snapped a slightly inebriated picture of himself. It'd be enough to boost his ego the next morning, enough to power through the long haul of his draining daily agenda.

SNAP. The flash of the camera went off, and his beloved face was shared for all to see. Though, that night, he mis stepped. Perhaps it was the booze, perhaps it was the toke, perhaps he was simply too tired to notice that he'd left the screen on. By the time he'd hit the bed he was out like a rock, collapsed onto the bed and quietly drifting to sleep. There on the brightly lit screen, in the darkness of the unlit bedroom, it saw its opportunity.

From it's perch on the nightstand, the phone began to spark. Small sparks at first, a quick fizzle and quiet pop. Then more: louder, brighter, faster. It began to rumble against the wooden tabletop, sizzling and sparkling as it danced before the screen went black and dead. Slowly, electric crackling gave way to a bubbling sludge. The glass subtly started wave and bellow, as if it were liquified, not taking long to begin to spill over the edges of it's metal frame. The black sludge fell like oil onto the hardwood floors, collecting in a growing, bubbling pool.

From the primordial ooze burst forth a long, slender arm; it's taloned fingers scraping as it braced itself on the ground. A second arm clawed it's way out, and with an echoing slosh, it had begun to pull itself out of the sludge. It's long, emaciated torso and thick muscled legs had slithered out, landing on two massive, clawed feet. It towered above Asher's bed as he slumbered, bent over so as not to hit it's back onto the eight foot ceiling. It stood there, looking at the person it'd observed and studied for so long. The image presented in the world it'd pried himself out of was nothing of what lay before it. From what it had gathered from his more clandestine dealings, it had noted that he was far from the archetypes he'd collected on Asher's behalf.

He did not have the tattoos like those he'd pinned on Pinterest. He was not wearing the dark, heavy clothes like those he'd saved on Instagram. He wasn't well endowed like the video's he'd favorited on X-Tube. He didn't give off the aura of some rebellious casanova like the stories he'd reblogged on Tumblr. To a creature of symmetry and consistency, this was an error to be corrected; a dichotomy requiring integration.

It crouched down above his drooling maw, gently caressing his head to face it's clenching claw. The talons pressed ever so tenderly past his lips and over his tongue, becoming the very black ooze it had crawled out of once more. It flooded down his throat as it's second arm made it's way into his mouth, as if it were being sucked into Asher. He was drinking it's essence, it's aqueous body slurping down into his core. It's torso compressed as it wriggled down his gullet, ringing out splashing squelches as Asher gargled it down.

As quickly as it had entered, it's long legs slithered into his mouth, leaving only its large feet thrashing about in the air. Asher's stomach was bubbling and undulating under the sheer pressure from this invasion, growing to a large gut spilling over the waistband of his jeans. One loud slurp and a crisp pop, and the feet slipped into him, leaving his writhing body squirming on the bed. It expanded within him, incorporating itself into every fibre of his being. Pressing into his arms, his legs, pushing up his throat until it met the top of his palate. The pressure began to mount, black goo dribbling down the corners of his mouth, until a wet crack sounded in his cavernous head, and it flowed into his skull.

It took mere seconds for it to reach his brain, which it flowed freely into throughout the grooves and nooks. Entirely coated, imbued and inoculated with it, the deed was done. Asher opened his eyes, tiredly sitting up in his bed. He looked over at his phone, tapping it with his finger: 3 AM.

At first it seemed like a nightmare. He could recall moments here and there, though the majority of his 'dream' was a blur. From what he could remember, it was nothing visual he could recollect... but it he could recollect the sensations. Wet, slimy, invasive, and cold- much like he felt drunkenly sleeping in his cold sweat. He brought himself to his feet, dragging his feet on the slippery floorboards to his bathroom.

Flipping the switch, the harsh fluorescent light flickered to life above him, as he turned the nozzle on his shower. Immediately, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor. In the mirror, Asher finally caught a glimpse of himself: strange black bruises and undulating bumps were scattered across his body. That pristine, smooth skin was now covered in sprawling web-like lesions from head to toe. He had mere moments to process the horror reflected in front of him before an immediate pain in the gut had him doubled over the counter.

His stomach started to bubble and groan, and through the foggy haze of his blurred vision he saw his feet begin to ripple and swell. He could feel the slick sweaty soles slide across the tile floor as they expanded and grew. As they reached a substantial size 13, the swelling crept it's way up his calves and into his thighs. Asher wobbled on his feet, as if they were filled with gelatin beneath his slippery skin while his knees began to buckle. He collapsed into a crouch, the fumes of sweaty footmusk bellowing up to his nostrils as his legs cracked and stretched above. He'd never truly experienced scentplay as he'd so dearly fantasized about throughout countless hours of edging to such content, nor had this funk ever emanated from his own soles. In the moment, he felt something within him prod into his brain. As if poking the individual folds of his cerebrum with thousands of tiny needles, causing cascades of thoughts to enter his mind- all of which telling him to embrace. In his mind's eye, he could see himself burying his face into his sweaty sole, between his long toes, lapping up every droplet of sweat that was spewing from his pores. The thought was buried deep in his subconscious, pried out with expert measure, by something now within him.

Grasping for anything to steady himself on, Asher gripped the edge of the sink, pulling himself upright once again and now towering above the countertop. He hung his aching head low, watching with strange newfound fervor as his cock began to feel heavier and heavier. Drool started to drip from the bottom of his lip, landing square onto the lengthening shaft. Like a sandbag, his balls dropped and swelled while he got harder and harder. Another onslaught of pinpricks in his head brought forth another command: stroke.

Steam started build in the bathroom as the hot water continued to fall from the shower, intensifying the scent wafting from now both his feet and his pendulous sac. Each breath of hot, wet musk hit like ecstasy, and with bated breath, he softly grasped ahold of his python and began to pump. Each knead of his engorged member was accompanied by a change. His fingers grew long and sinewy, smooth and slick with precum. His arms remained thin but toned, growing longer and packed with lean muscle. His torso lengthened, topped off with a firm pair of pecs above his sinewy abdomen.

As pressure began to build in his balls, his mind began to feel the needles one last time, imbuing his brain with one last injection of a single trait: pride. He didn't need the approval of anyone else, he was aware of how fucking hot he was. He didn't need to heed the rules that society had straddled him with, he always forged his own path. He had no fears of recompense for his attitude, his ego, his spirit- the world would either stand with him, or he would step on top of them. Either way, what bliss. As the last of his inhibitions and fears had gathered in his groin, he cried out in elation as he erupted. Rope after rope of black sludge shot from his cannon, washing him with a sense of relief he'd never before known. He released his grip on his softening cock, hanging at an obscene eleven inches. He smirked at the sludge coating his mirror and pooling beneath his toes. A sight like that would have shocked and terrified the old Asher, though as he stood before his reflection, devoid of any tension, he relented to the entity within him. It had delivered onto him a new self, a new image, a new viewpoint. As tattoos both vulgar and delicate began to sprawl across his skin, he happily admired his new likeness.

The entity had bestowed a gift to him; throughout the horror, throughout the fear, he was becoming the true Asher that had only ever peeked out from the abyss of his psyche. He leered, bringing his thumb and middle finger together before snapping loudly. From his pores, the black sludge began to spill across his body until he was nearly covered from the neck down in what appeared to be a rubber suit before it began to become a bit more defined. A plain white tee shirt, classically fashioned with a black and white varsity jacket from his college. Skinny, weathered black jeans barely containing his sizeable commando bulge beneath it's thin fabric. On his feet, a pair of white socks and tightly tied high top Chucks, quelling the ripe stink of his soles within the sneaker for some sub to pry off and enjoy.

He grinned, posing and modeling for himself, before he finally turned off the steaming water. After the long, arduous, painful process, the entity had incorporated itself entirely within him- now completely indistinguishable from parasitic to symbiotic. It had rewritten him, completely remade him in the likeness of who he had shown the vast virtual world. There was no cognitive dissonance, there were no lies, there was no deception. All that remained was the Asher he had created in his fantasy, now ready to fuck the real world and all within it.

Thus, as our creature feature comes to an end, I leave you with a modicum of friendly advice. Don't leave your phone on as you slumber, for those that are watching, those that are waiting, those that have been learning are a mere sheet of glass away from finding their way inside. Take my counsel, or ignore it. But do so knowing the outcome, and whether or not you are prepared to weather such a storm.

#body transformation #male transformation #original #transformation #musk #punkification #punk transformation #body possession #body invasion #symbiote #male symbiote #virtual cryptid #virtual symbiote #college

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backtothefanfiction · 3 months

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Hiii! i love your writing 😘 if your ok with writing this could i request some fluffy dad!felix catton if you have any in store?! again, totally understand if your uncomfortable writing this or just don’t want to 😊😊

It’s taken me a while to get to this because I’ve been struggling to find my way in when it comes to Felix as a Dad. I’m not sure if I do have a Dad!Felix fluff in me but I do have some thoughts/head canons on Felix as a Dad as a whole I’m slowly developing. So here are those…

Felix is all in in the newborn stage. It’s a novelty for him. The easy stage before they find their voices and start screaming the place down. When all you have to do is hold them, feed them, change them. He’s so there for that.

He’s happy to get up in the middle of the night, looking out the windows at the grounds with a baby in his arms, telling stories and recounting memories of his youth and that time running around the grounds with Farleigh and Venetia.

He loves see you with HIS child. He’s very protective. While you lie in his bed with tea and toast, feeding your child he shoos everyone else from the room, not wanting to share that sight or special time with anyone else in the family. Venetia is the only one who occasionally slips through the cracks. (She is a great aunt to your child by the way)

When the baby starts to grow older though he begins to struggle. You are a very hands on parent in comparison to him and he’s happy for you to be. After all his mother was very hands on with him and Venetia, however as a child he never saw his Dad there as much as his Mum and so has adopted a similar way of thinking that of his father and grandfather that fussing kids is a Mother problem.

Don’t get me wrong, he still loves showing up to be the fun dad. Running across the lawns with them. Enabling their hobbies and paying for anything they want. But when it comes to the hard stuff you feel completely abandoned.

As time goes on you realise you aren’t on the same wave length about parenting at all. And a lot of that has to do with Felix’s upbringing and family.

Elspeth is always there to step in and make a fuss, forcing herself on her grandchildren like she makes everything better, but often (especially if a child is already in a tantrum state it can sometimes make it worse until she just hands the child back and leaves you with a screaming child.

When Felix’s mates come knocking, asking him to go on golfing or skiing holidays with them it’s always “you’ve got this, haven’t you babe? Great. I love you. See you in a week.”

And because that’s how Felix was raised, what he observed from his family over the years, he honestly knows no better.

“If you’re struggling we can just get a Nanny.” He says when you confront him. It always has you seeing red. “I don’t want a Nanny Felix. I want US to raise our kids.”

You realise the only way things will change is if you all get out of that house and away from his family. So you give him the ultimatum: “it’s either us or your family.”

Of course it’s that honour in him, that unspoken traditional allegiance to your wife and kids that has him reluctantly agreeing, hoping in a few months you’ll see sense and see how difficult it is without all the servants and his daddy’s money. But you thrive, despite the way Felix shuffles his feet and does the bare minimum in protest.

After another argument where you tell him to show up or fuck off back to his family he finally takes you seriously and the more time he spends with you and your family and more modest hands on parenting and living styles he begins to thrive, seeing that the grass can be greener on the other side.

The more time away from his family he sees how toxic his families dynamic is. When you visit he sticks up for his kids and is protective of them when his parents begin to push their values and views on his kids.

You stand by him as he begins to put in boundaries and really analyse his life, his youth, his privilege and how it has in fact hindered him in life in so many basic ways. You support him and feel pride when he helps enforce those boundaries around his parents, his family as he ultimately gives them the same ultimatum you gave him all those years ago.

Although his father is reluctant, Elspeth is desperate to know her grandchildren and apologised to you both and promises to respect your parenting choices and swears to try and uphold those values in front of your children as much as she can.

With the new boundaries in place, summers in Saltburn become regular things for your kids. All of you playing together on the grounds. Chasing each other through the maze. Swimming in the pool and the lake.You and Felix set up scavenger hunts for your kids. And they ultimately grow up with the best of both worlds.

So yeah. Those are my more realistic Dad Felix thoughts. Tell me what you think….

#felix catton imagine #dad!felix #Felix Catrin #Felix catton x reader #dad!felix x reader #felix catton fluff #Felix catton headcanons #saltburn #saltburn imagines #saltburn x reader

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nayziiz · 2 months

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Shadows | LN4

Summary: [Mafia] In the face of dire financial troubles, Lando receives a desperate plea from his father to unearth a lucrative solution within the family business. Fueled by the pressure to rescue his family from ruin, Lando stumbles upon a seemingly perfect venture—using luxury cars as a facade for the clandestine world of drug trafficking. With the unexpected partnership of Amelia Rossi, his father's best friend's daughter, Lando believes he has found the ideal accomplice. However, as the Norris family collides with the ambitious Russells in a ruthless bid to establish their dominance, the perilous path Lando has chosen places not only his newfound enterprise at stake but also entangles Amelia in the dangerous crossfire that unfolds.

Warning: Violence, drugs, blood, smut, fluff, guns

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Amelia Rossi) - appearances from other drivers

Masterlist

Chapter 2

Amelia's father, Harold Rossi, had built his family business with a steadfast commitment to integrity and cleanliness. As the head of the powerful Rossi Enterprise Holdings, he understood the potential profits that could be reaped by engaging in questionable dealings, yet he chose to walk the moral high ground. His priority was his daughter and only child, Amelia, and he went to great lengths to ensure her safety.

Harold Rossi's unwavering commitment to ethical business practices shaped not only the trajectory of his enterprise but also the upbringing of his daughter, Amelia. The rejection of lucrative deals, each one carrying the promise of substantial wealth, left a lingering bitterness in Harold's mouth. Yet, he remained resolute in prioritising the safety and well-being of his only child.

Amelia, in turn, spent countless nights in her teenage years immersed in her father's office. Reading through contracts and listening to recorded business meetings became second nature to her. Every facet of her father's business, every decision made in the pursuit of integrity, became ingrained in her understanding. Harold was moulding her into the future leader of his empire, and she absorbed the knowledge with the diligence of a determined heiress.

Despite her father's faith in her capabilities, scepticism lingered in the eyes of Amelia's mother. A dedicated wife and mother with few personal pursuits, she harboured reservations about Amelia's ability to take the reins of the family business. However, from a tender age, Amelia harboured an unyielding desire for control and power, traits she admired in her father. Her ambition set her on a path to prove her mettle in a world where expectations for women were often limiting.

Upon graduating from university, Harold presented Amelia with a substantial challenge—a small, second-hand car dealership. It was a test, a gesture aimed at allowing her to prove herself in the realm of business. Undeterred, Amelia transformed the modest dealership into a bastion of luxury vehicles, leveraging her business acumen to establish a prominent presence in the London automotive scene.

Everyone who mattered in the city knew Amelia by name, recognizing her as a force to be reckoned with. Her ability to secure coveted vehicles and her extensive network of contacts became legendary. Importantly, she achieved this without seeking her father's assistance, proving that her success at the dealership was a testament to her own entrepreneurial skills.

Lando, in stark contrast to Amelia's focused and specialised approach, had cast his influence across a diverse array of industries. From music to nightclubs, motorsports teams to golf, and electronics to security, Lando's ventures were as eclectic as his charismatic personality. Despite his multifaceted business portfolio, he never forgot the bonds forged during his school years, especially with Amelia.

Upon learning about Amelia's foray into the business world, Lando extended numerous offers to involve her in his ventures. However, Amelia, driven by her determination to prove herself independently, consistently declined his invitations. While she valued his advice and listened to his proposals, she was hesitant to align herself with Lando's expansive empire.

Amelia's reluctance to accept Lando's assistance stemmed from a desire to break free from her father's imposing shadow. The limitations imposed by her familial ties made expanding her business a challenging task. She faced a dilemma – either seek her father's aid, which came with its own set of constraints, or explore alternative means, even if they involved engaging in less-than-savoury deals on the side.

Despite the potential moral complexities, Amelia's decision to embark on a less conventional path was not a compromise of her principles. Rather, it was a testament to her unwavering commitment to proving herself in the fiercely competitive business world. Recognizing her struggle, Lando offered not a handout, but a genuine partnership. Their shared history of navigating rough waters during their school years built a foundation of trust between them.

Lando understood the challenges ahead, aware that Amelia's journey towards expansion would not be without hurdles. However, he believed in her capabilities and resilience. The partnership they forged was built on mutual trust and a shared understanding that success would be hard-earned. Lando's involvement wasn't just about the financial benefits for both parties; it was a commitment to standing by Amelia's side as she ventured into uncharted territories. As Amelia delved into a world beyond her father's confines, she found an ally in Lando who recognized her potential and trusted her instincts.

The pulsating heartbeat of London's nightlife reverberated through the streets as Lando and Amelia emerged from her office in the dealership. Their first shipment to Monte Carlo had been a meticulously planned operation, executed with precision and finesse. The three Ferraris, symbols of luxury and opulence, had been transformed into vessels of secrecy, their interiors carefully packed with the requested cargo. Lando and Amelia had spared no expense in ensuring that every detail was attended to, from the placement of the hidden compartments to the timing of the delivery.

As the cars navigated the labyrinthine streets of Monte Carlo, they moved with the silent grace of phantoms, their sleek exteriors betraying no hint of the valuable cargo concealed within. It was a delicate dance, navigating the bustling city under the cover of darkness, but Lando and Amelia had anticipated every possible obstacle and contingency. Lando’s expertise in the underworld of illicit dealings had served them well, allowing their shipment to evade detection and reach their destination unscathed.

For Lando and Amelia, the success of their first shipment was both a triumph and a relief. It was validation of their skills and capabilities, a testament to their ability to navigate the treacherous waters of the criminal underworld. As they received photos of the Ferraris and their contents safely delivered to their destination, a sense of pride washed over them.

Their destination for celebrations was one of Lando's exclusive clubs nestled in the heart of London's East End. The club, a hidden gem known only to those in the inner circles of London's nightlife, exuded an air of exclusivity and mystery.

As Lando and Amelia made their way through the bustling streets of the East End, the anticipation of the night ahead hung in the air like a palpable energy. The club beckoned to them like a siren's call, its entrance discreetly tucked away from prying eyes, accessible only to those who knew where to look.

Upon arriving at the club, Lando and Amelia were greeted with nods of recognition and whispers of admiration. It was a familiar scene for Lando, who moved through the club with the effortless grace of a seasoned host. Amelia, though less accustomed to the spotlight, found herself drawn into the whirlwind of excitement and energy that surrounded them.

Inside, the club was a symphony of lights and sounds, the air alive with the pulsating rhythm of music and laughter. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the promise of a night filled with revelry and indulgence.

Lando's gaze swept across the crowded dance floor until it settled on Zara, perched gracefully at the bar, a vision of elegance amidst the pulsating lights and swirling colours. She sipped delicately on a pink cocktail, her slender fingers wrapped around the glass with effortless poise. With her long, lithe frame and striking features, she exuded an aura of confidence and allure that was impossible to ignore.

As Lando approached, a smile playing on his lips, Zara turned to greet him with a warmth that matched her beauty. Their exchange was easy and familiar. But as Amelia joined them, her insecurities threatened to overshadow the moment for her.

Standing alongside Zara, the contrast between them was stark. Where Zara was tall and statuesque, Amelia felt small and insignificant. Where Zara exuded an air of effortless glamour, Amelia couldn't help but feel plain and ordinary by comparison.

The unease that had been simmering beneath the surface threatened to boil over as Lando's attention shifted between the two women. Despite her best efforts to maintain her composure, Amelia couldn't shake the nagging sense of inadequacy that gnawed at her from within.

Amelia found herself in an all-too-familiar situation, struggling to connect with Zara as they sat together at the bar. Despite her best efforts, the conversation between them faltered, stumbling over the awkward silences that hung heavy in the air.

It wasn't for lack of trying on Amelia's part. She searched desperately for common ground, grasping at straws in an attempt to bridge the gap between them. But try as she might, she couldn't shake the feeling that she and Zara were worlds apart, their lives and interests diverging in ways that seemed insurmountable.

Zara, with her effortless charm and easy confidence, seemed to effortlessly navigate the social dynamics of the club. She was surrounded by admirers, her laughter ringing out like a melody in the crowded room. In contrast, Amelia felt like an outsider, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

As the night wore on, the gulf between them widened, each passing moment serving as a painful reminder of their differences. They had nearly nothing in common to speak about, no shared experiences or interests to bond over. Try as she might, Amelia couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't belong in Zara's world, a world of beauty and glamour that felt foreign and inaccessible.

In the midst of the chaos and noise of the club, Amelia couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness. She longed for the easy companionship of her male friends, for the camaraderie and understanding that came so naturally to her in their presence. But with Zara, she felt like an outsider, an intruder in a world that she could never truly be a part of.

As Lando and Zara slipped away to dance together, leaving Amelia alone at the bar, a wave of loneliness washed over her. She watched them disappear into the crowd, their laughter and easy banter a painful reminder of her own insecurities.

Taking a seat at the bar, Amelia felt the weight of her solitude pressing down on her shoulders. She longed for the familiar presence of Charles, one of few people who had always seen her for who she truly was, flaws and all. In his absence, she couldn't help but feel adrift, lost in a sea of uncertainty and doubt.

Closing her eyes, she summoned memories of their time together, the moments of laughter and connection that had anchored her in times of turmoil. Charles had a way of making her feel seen and valued, of reminding her of her own brilliance even when she struggled to see it herself.

As she nursed her drink, Amelia couldn't shake the nagging sense of inadequacy that plagued her. She knew she was capable of so much more than she gave herself credit for, but in that moment, surrounded by the glittering lights and pulsating music of the club, it was easy to lose sight of her own worth.

With a heavy sigh, Amelia wished that Charles was there beside her, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of her emotions. She longed for his reassuring words and gentle touch, the reminder that she was enough just as she was.

But as the night wore on and the music swelled around her, Amelia knew that she would have to find the strength to face her insecurities on her own. She couldn't rely on Charles or anyone else to validate her worth; she had to find it within herself.

As Lando returned to find Amelia at the bar, a sense of relief washed over him. The weight of their successful shipment lifted from his shoulders, replaced by a buoyant euphoria that seemed to permeate the very air around them. The liberating effects of alcohol only served to enhance the surreal glow of the night in Monaco. Leaning against the bar beside Amelia, Lando raised his half-empty glass of champagne in a toast.

“To successful partnerships.” he declared, the words carrying a weight of gratitude and accomplishment.

Amelia smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. She clinked her glass against Lando's, the sound echoing through the bustling atmosphere of the bar.

“And to keeping secrets.” he added with a sly grin.

Dazed and enveloped in the euphoria of their success, Lando leaned in and pressed a reassuring kiss against Amelia's cheek, a silent acknowledgment of their shared triumph. For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as they savoured the warmth of the moment, the weight of their unspoken bond hanging in the air between them.

But as quickly as it had come, the moment passed, and Lando disappeared once more into the swirling crowd of revellers. Amelia watched him go, a sense of exhaustion washing over her like a tidal wave. The day's tension had taken its toll, leaving her feeling drained and in need of solitude.

Without a word, Amelia slipped quietly out of the club, her footsteps echoing against the pavement as she made her way into the cool night air. She didn't look back, her mind consumed with thoughts of rest and respite.

As she disappeared into the darkness, leaving Lando and Zara to continue their own celebrations, Amelia couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that lingered in her heart. It wasn't jealousy or resentment that plagued her, but a sense of loneliness that seemed to settle over her like a heavy cloak.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #mclaren #mclaren f1 #lando norris x oc #mafia!f1 #mafia!au #f1 #f1 driver x oc

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nininikki · 1 year

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𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒: k. nanami x black!fem reader

✶ summary! — who cared if your husband gave you everything you could ever want? what did it matter when all you wanted was him?

✶ warnings! — non-curse au, established relationship (husband & wife), black reader, fem bodied reader, nsfw! phone sex, female masturbation, sex toy use (dildo).

✶ author’s note! — this idea came about when i was listening everything she wants by wham! & was supposed to be a lot longer but my brain died right in the middle soooo. lmk if i missed anything in the warnings!

✶ word count! — 1.6k

“what time will you be home today?” you asked, putting your finished breakfast plate in the sink atop your husband’s.

a grimace had already formed on your face before he stamped a kiss next to your ear and murmured, “late,” into the damp spot left there.

your husband, the perfect man he was, could sense your upset even as he was rushing to get out the door. “ugh, i know. how dare kento not attend to his poor, needy wife.” he sarcastically drawled, attempting to lighten the mood and succeeding. “what ever will she do while he’s away?”

kento sauntered toward you, his briefcase shelved over one arm while the other pulled you closer by the belt of your silk robe. “i’m sure i can think of something.” you said, overdramatizing down to the syllable.

you were tempted to tousle the perfectly groomed silk of hair on his head, but remembered his need to be nothing short of pristine whenever he left for work.

“oh, please you’d look pristine in a trash bag.” you had told him when the two of you first started dating.

kento’s mouth had only stretched into a wide, attractively modest grin. “we can’t all be as lucky as you, baby.” before he kissed you gently at the corner of your lips, leaving the taste of coffee behind.

the soothing feeling of nanami’s palm caressing the thinly clothed expanse of your ass brought you back to the bittersweet present. “sooner or later, i’ll have to get a job.” you teased, walking your perfectly manicured fingers up his chest until they settled at the nape of his neck. “maybe an office job or something. i always did look really good in pencil skirts.”

at that, you could hear a grunt slip through nanami’s throat, presumably at the idea of you working, or maybe of you in a pencil skirt. you didn’t know. you were too busy letting him ravish you in a breathtaking kiss.

the cold metal of his wedding band skated across your cheekbone, and you swore you could feel your lungs moving out of the way to make room for your rapidly swelling heart. please stay, you thought, brain so dampened by euphoria you hadn’t even realized you said it aloud.

“you know i can’t do that.” nanami murmured, retying the belt of your robe that had come undone. the action was equivalent to a cold slap against your cheek.

you couldn’t help the small whine spilling from your lips. “but babyyyyyy, you’re the boss.”

“and that means i especially can’t do that.”

when you married nanami, you swore on everything you loved that you wouldn’t be like those desperate housewives on TV you’d grown up pitying. a dark acrimonious gaze tracing over your husband as he left the house every morning, only to be waiting for him at the door the moment he got home.

that wasn’t the life you wanted. but with all the hours kento had started working, you could feel it inching closer and closer. growing uncomfortably over your psyche like a bad rash, or perhaps a heap of barnacles.

“c’mon, honey, there’s so much for you to do while i’m away. what about the club?” nanami asked, referring to the blonde-haired blue-eyed, judgment day, snoozefest you’d stupidly signed up for in hopes of learning how to golf.

“boring.” you drawled.

he pulled out his wallet, and from there his american express, and held it out to you. “slightly less boring.” you muttered, plucking it from his fingers.

but it still wasn’t enough. what good were new dresses if he wasn’t there to admire you the entire time you tried them on? and besides, you didn’t want those stupid dresses, anyway. you wanted to be swaddled up in your husband’s limbs all day, oblivious to the world outside of sheets and skin for as long as possible—that being forever.

“i’ll be back before you know it, okay?” kento assured you, kissing the pout from your lips. “i love you.”

you rolled your eyes in feigned annoyance, heart melting nonetheless. “i love you too.”

***

not four hours after nanami arrived at work, he was at the tail end of another two hour meeting when his phone vibrated with a series of texts. he discreetly pulled it from his pocket, and wondered if his colleagues noticed the blush crawl up his neck when he registered it was from you.

god, he missed you. missed coming home to you at sensible hours of the day, when sunlight still peeked above the horizon and made the brown tone of your skin shine like gold. missed showering with you when he was home early enough to do that. missed you telling him about your day over a fresh hot dinner. missed having sex. just missed you.

if it weren’t for his ironclad resolve, he’d have already caved and told you about the vacation he had planned near the end of the month. paris, the city of love and place you had been not-so-subtly hinting at for the past year. just imagining the look on your face when he tells you is enough to have him wanting to brave a look at his phone.

though, it was the last fifteen minutes of said meeting, and everyone looked as though the spirit had been sucked clean out of their faces with a straw. they probably wouldn’t have noticed if he set the room on fire with all of them in it.

so, he opened the messages, totally unaware of the sight that’d soon be gracing his screen.

firstly, one that read, are you alone? i miss you. then, attached a video that he didn’t need to look any further than the thumbnail to tell what it was. you, your sopping cunt, and your manicured hands wrapped around a thick purple dildo.

“excuse me,” nanami grunted. “there’s been an emergency with my wife. this meeting is adjourned.”

he couldn’t have rushed into his office and locked the door quickly enough, but when he did, he had to at least try and quell the shaking in his hands before he opened the video fully.

not to mention the painful erection tenting his work pants. fuck, how long had it been since the two of you had sex?

nanami opened the video with hands that shook slightly less. your knees sat pushed up to your chest, a pleated miniskirt flipped up over the curvaceous expanse of your ass and bunched up around your waist.

“ken’,” you whimpered. you let the tip dance around the edge of your dripping hole before bringing it up to ease against your swollen clit. “i miss you so much.”

i miss you too, more even, nanami wanted to say, whilst also wanting to strangle you silly for sending something so foolishly reckless in the middle of a meeting. could he do both?

you let the head of the fake dick catch on your hole before slowly giving in and plunging it into you. the dildo sank in with a cute squelch. all nanami could think of was being the one to muffle the little mewls your glossy lips sang out with sloppy kisses. to kiss along those pretty feet as your toes curled with the thrusts he was feeding you.

he could tell by the dazed dizzy look in your eyes you were getting off partly just watching yourself, and that turned him on even more. “look at my pussy, baby.” you cooed in that slow seductive voice he always got stupid for. “see how much she misses you.”

seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty days since you’d last had sex, nanami counted as he followed your instruction. a dripping, soaking mess you were. so wet he could probably see his reflection in it if he were there. you always got so messy, too. smooth, fat lips covered in your sticky arousal. arousal he could see dripping lower and lower until it drenched your puckered hole.

“wish this was your dick, ken’.” you said, spreading your thick folds apart to play with your clit. from there, you began a rhythm of desperately fucking yourself with the dildo while drawing slow circles over your clit. “you always fill me up so fuckin’ good.”

nanami could feel his dick twitching, and wondered if it was possible to cum without touching himself at all. because that’s where your little video had him. little video, he thought. who was he kidding?

it didn’t take long before the flicks of your wrist grew more hasty, and the shadow of an orgasm darkened your hazy eyes. “ooh, fuck ken’, i’m cumming! i’m cumming, i’m cumming!”

watching your pretty pussy contract and relax around the dick as thick spurts of your cream oozed out of you had nanami bucking his hips up into nothing. he wanted nothing more than to be splitting you open on his cock until he was met with that exact response, tenfold.

and as if you weren’t killing him enough, you carefully pulled it out and brought the camera up to your face. you pushed the toy between your pretty lips, sucking it tantalizingly slow, eyes lidded and a little bloodshot, cheeks hollowed, thick webs of saliva staining the corners of your mouth. you didn’t stop until the remnants of your release were sucked clean.

and then the video ended. and nanami was back in his office, back to stone cold sober reality. dick aching in his pants and the fresh image of your cunt burning behind his eyes. he fished his keys from his suit pocket, and not five minutes later, he was clocked out of work and en route to you.

#nikki writes ✶#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk x poc!reader #jjk x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #jjk x black reader #smut #jjk smut

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dailyniallnews · 6 months

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Niall Horan: Cynics fuelled me to succeed with Modest Golf

Niall Horan has opened up on the cynicism he faced when he launched his golf management company in 2016, detailing how it fuelled him to make it a success.

Speaking in the December edition of bunkered, the chart-topping musician reflected on the launch of Modest Golf Management in 2016.

The boutique firm was dismissed by many naysayers as a non-credible ‘plaything’ for the former One Direction star.

However, seven years on, it has built an enviable stable of clients – amongst them Tyrrell Hatton and Leona Maguire – and has expanded its reach with the opening of a new office in the US, whilst also diversifying its business interests.

It’s all a far cry from the early days, when the skeptics were out in force.

“To be honest, I kind of expected the cynicism,” explained Horan. “There are agents on the range who have been there for a long time. They know the tour inside out and they’ve had their pick of the players for a long time. When they saw me turn up and try to get involved, they were bound to be a bit like, ‘Who’s he?’

“We heard bits and pieces here and there but that just gave us more drive – a healthy drive – to prove them wrong. Not in a ‘we’ll show them’ kind of a way. More, ‘we really want to do this’.

He added: “Six or seven years ago, golf looked the same as it had for many years. The governing bodies had been run by the same people for a very long time and so on.

“I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t easy to begin with. It was hard getting turned away from things pretty much constantly, but I always knew that if we stuck to it and worked hard then we’d get there in the end. Now, we’ve got a great relationship with all the governing bodies and all the agents, too.

“Slowly but surely, it’s turned around and people have started to realise, ‘Oh, wait a minute, maybe they are in it for the long haul.’”

Mark McDonnell, who co-founded Modest Golf with Horan, added: “To this day, I still get people saying to me, ‘Is Niall really involved?’. I mean, of course he is! Obviously, he can’t be at every single event and in every single meeting but, throughout all the major decisions and moments in our company’s history, he’s been there.”

“This has never, ever been a pet project for him or a little plaything to occupy his time whilst he figured out what he wanted to do next. And to be honest, I felt like it did me a disservice when I heard people say that.

“I know there are celebrities out there who’ll put their name to something just to make a quick buck and I would never stake my own career on that. I knew Niall’s passion for golf was genuine, and that’s why it was really easy for me to want to get involved.”

Horan also expressed his hope that his involvement with golf will help encourage more young girls to take an interest in the sport.

“I always say this but, you know, I’ve got 40 million Twitter followers and a few more on Instagram,” he adds. “If me posting about golf here and there makes just one per cent of my followers take an interest in golf, well, look, I’m no mathematician, but it’s a lot!”

“Don’t get me wrong, I know a lot of them will be like, ‘oh great, he’s talking about golf again!’ But I guarantee there’s quite a few who’ll read that tweet and go to the driving range, or go to Topgolf, or even just try to get involved in some shape or form. It’s just about letting them know the sport exists really.

“You never know how many will go, ‘Well, if Niall thinks it’s cool, it might be cool.’”

Read the full interview with Niall Horan in the December edition of bunkered, on-sale now from all good newsagents.

#niall horan #bunkered magazine #13nov23

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ausetkmt · 7 months

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Ga. islanders vow to keep fighting change favoring rich buyers

DARIEN, Ga. - Descendants of enslaved people living on a Georgia island vowed to keep fighting after county commissioners voted to double the maximum size of homes allowed in their tiny enclave.

Residents fear the move will accelerate the decline of one of the South’s few surviving Gullah-Geechee communities.

An aspect of the ordinance that residents take issue with is the fact that it erases a clause about protecting the island’s indigenous history.

During public meetings leading up to the vote, the zoning board proposed changes to the ordinance of lowering the newly allowed home size and removing talk of golf courses being added to the island.

Black residents of the Hogg Hummock community on Sapelo Island and their supporters packed a meeting of McIntosh County’s elected commissioners to oppose zoning changes that residents say favor wealthy buyers and will lead to tax increases that could pressure them to sell their land.

ISLAND’S HERITAGE

Gullah-Geechee communities like Hogg Hummock are scattered along the Southeast coast from North Carolina to Florida, where they have endured since their enslaved ancestors were freed by the Civil War. Scholars say these people long separated from the mainland retained much of their African heritage, from their unique dialect to skills and crafts such as cast-net fishing and weaving baskets.

Regardless, commissioners voted 3-2 to weaken zoning restrictions the county adopted nearly three decades ago with the stated intent to help Hogg Hummock’s 30 to 50 residents hold on to their land.

Yolanda Grovner, 54, of Atlanta said she has long planned to retire on land her father, an island native, owns in Hogg Hummock. She left the county courthouse Tuesday night wondering if that will ever happen.

��It’s going to be very, very difficult,” Grovner said. She added: “I think this is their way of pushing residents off the island.”

Hogg Hummock is one of just a few surviving communities in the South of people known as Gullah, or Geechee, in Georgia, whose ancestors worked island slave plantations.

MORE | Mom in Grovetown calls cops on U.S. energy secretary’s staff

Fights with the local government are nothing new to residents and landowners. Dozens successfully appealed staggering property tax hikes in 2012, and residents spent years fighting the county in federal court for basic services such as firefighting equipment and trash collection before county officials settled last year.

“We’re still fighting all the time,” said Maurice Bailey, a Hogg Hummock native whose mother, Cornelia Bailey, was a celebrated storyteller and one of Sapelo Island’s most prominent voices before her death in 2017. “They’re not going to stop. The people moving in don’t respect us as people. They love our food, they love our culture. But they don’t love us.”

Merden Hall, who asked not to be on camera, has lived on Sapelo his whole life. He says he’s worried about the sizes of homes now allowed on the island.

“I’m not comfortable with this. They approved the 3,000 square feet, that’s the only thing I disapprove of, because that’s going to raise property taxes,” he said.

Hogg Hummock’s population has been shrinking in recent decades, and some families have sold their land to outsiders who built vacation homes. New construction has caused tension over how large those homes can be.

Commissioners on Tuesday raised the maximum size of a home in Hogg Hummock to 3,000 square feet of total enclosed space. The previous limit was 1,400 square feet of heated and air-conditioned space.

Commissioner Davis Poole, who supported loosening the size restriction, said it would allow “a modest home enabling a whole family to stay under one roof.”

“The commissioners are not out to destroy the Gullah-Geechee culture or erase the history of Sapelo,” Poole said. “We’re not out to make more money for the county.”

Commission Chairman David Stevens, who said he’s been visiting Sapelo Island since the 1980s, blamed Hogg Hummock’s changing landscape on native owners who sold their land.

“I don’t need anybody to lecture me on the culture of Sapelo Island,” Stevens said, adding: “If you don’t want these outsiders, if you don’t want these new homes being built ... don’t sell your land.”

County officials have argued that size restrictions based on heated and cooled spaced proved impossible to enforce. County attorney Adam Poppell said more than a dozen homes in Hogg Hummock appeared to violate the limits, and in some cases homeowners refused to open their doors to inspectors.

Hogg Hummock landowner Richard Banks equated that to the county letting lawbreakers make the rules.

“If everybody wants to exceed the speed limit, should we increase the speed limits for all the speeders?” Banks said.

Hogg Hummock residents said they were blindsided when the county unveiled its proposed zoning changes on Aug. 16. Commissioners in July had approved sweeping zoning changes throughout McIntosh County, but had left Hogg Hummock alone.

Commissioner Roger Lotson, the only Black member of the county commission, voted against the changes and warned his colleagues that he fears they will end up back in court for rushing them.

Two attorneys from the Southern Poverty Law Center sat in the front row. Attorney Anjana Joshi said they had “due process and equal protection concerns” about the way the zoning ordinance was amended.

“In our view, this was not done correctly,” said Joshi, who added: “We’re just getting started.”

Located about 60 miles south of Savannah, Sapelo Island remains separated from the mainland and reachable only by boat. Since 1976, the state of Georgia has owned most of its 30 square miles of largely unspoiled wilderness. Hogg Hummock, also known as Hog Hammock, sits on less than a square mile.

Hogg Hummock earned a place in 1996 on the National Register of Historic Places, the official list of the United States’ treasured historic sites. But for protections to preserve the community, residents depend on the local government in McIntosh County, where 65% of the 11,100 residents are white.

#Ga. islanders vow to keep fighting change favoring rich buyers #Gullah Geechee #Gullah Land #sapelo #sapelo island #Freedmen Lands #Stolen Lands #nrohp #national register of historic places

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apureniallsource · 2 years

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Niall via Instagram Story - 09/25

#niall horan #instagram #video #modest golf #25september

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annieqattheperipheral · 9 months

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not yt picking up on my current obsession showing me this vid from a yr ago. its offszn might as well embrace these dumdums fave past-time but on our own terms

what's your golf handicap?

pissy boi💕 eyerolls n raspberries the whole package

NHL players share their golf handicaps | Puck Personality // apr 14, 2022

bonus: derpy eyed sid bored af at this media thing like why do u need to ask me my fave colour every yr like a 2yr old

dang girl what pasta dish were u fantasizing abt

did they think he was being modest. This bitch may be canadian but he also tugged a child down a sand dune in order to win an exercise drill not even an actual game

#hockey x golf #leon draisaitl #sidney crosby #nhl off season #youtube being bae

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felixstudios · 3 months

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Random Corporate Clash Headcanons, Playing Corporate Clash Edition

Let's ignore how long it's been since I made these, okay? And ignore the massive 4th wall breaking

ALSO special appearance from some mgrs I normally wouldn't write for

Duck Shuffler

🎰He doesn't really know how to strategize, so he picks random stuff and hopes for the best

🎰Absolutely LOVES the trolley

🎰Loves to talk to basically anyone he comes across and try to make friends with them

🎰Often gets indecisive about what to do next, so he spins his slots to decide

Prethinker

🧠Okay, usually his intelligence is laughable and fun to make fun of, but this guy is a professional no life. He knows EVERYTHING about the game

🧠Tries to reach 150 laff as soon as possible and has absolutely ZERO fun with the game

🧠 Doesn't make friends and only talks if he's giving out battle strategies, which is... basically every round of battle even if it's just a 2 story building in Barnacle Boatyard

🧠He's kinda elitist, too

Derrick Man

🛢️Doesn't really play that often since he's not a gamer

🛢️I can't ever imagine him getting much further than The Brrrgh cause he just. DOESN'T PLAY.

🛢️Despite his inexperience and infrequently logging in, he's actually pretty decent at the game

🛢️Collects manager rewards and hoards them. He needs them all

Deep Diver

🫧He's the kind of person to not leave Toontown Central until he's maxed all of his activities, has overpowered gags, and also started a club that's now at level 100 and has like 50 members

🫧Very slow and methodical with her gameplay- she explores every little nook and cranny before moving on. Has all racing, golfing, and fishing trophies kinda thing. Gets all achievements kinda thing

🫧Loves to set up in battles and take his time with them. Yes, he will struggle a lot with Pacesetter

🫧She LOVES fishing, by the way

Rainmaker

⛈️Doesn't really enjoy combat very much and prefers to play Toono and such

⛈️Also really likes the trolley and makes tons of trolley groups

⛈️Wouldn't progress much further than Mezzo Melodyland, probably

⛈️Tries to make friends, but others tend to find her annoying or even rude so she doesn't make very many

Land Acquisition Architect

🚦Tries to get some friends together to play with him

🚦Behind the screen, he is absolutely having a temper tantrum over EVERYTHING. Be it a gag missing or someone doing a less optimal play, he's screaming

🚦But in the game he's like SUPER DUPER NICE and makes no outward show of how angry he actually is

🚦If you befriend him, you're getting constant invites to like everything he does

Gatekeeper

⚔️Tries to max in the most efficient way possible

⚔️Will try to show off all her boss loot, but of course only in stylish ways

⚔️Kind of an elitist, definitely pretty rude

⚔️Likes to sit out of bounds doing nothing. Alternatively, she sits in front of the CFO doors or in DDL doing nothing just to show off her TTR elitist roots

Witch Hunter

🔱He says he wouldn't play such a childish game and says he's just gonna uninstall it

🔱Five minutes later he's in an OCLO. Also, he has 150 laff so clearly it's not too childish for him

🔱He's an elitist

🔱Would 100% quad Toon and try to act like they're not his alts, even going as far as giving them their own "typing quirks" and having fake conversations

Public Relations Representative

🧱Can't really use SpeedChat+ effectively since he glitches around and makes lots of typos

🧱Frequent misclicks and missteps

🧱Will not survive OCLO or Pacesetter very often

🧱Surprisingly loves to play the game and accidentally no lifes to 150 laff

Bellringer

🔔Loves to destroy Cogs with perfect damage whenever possible, for some reason

🔔His estate would be VERY cozy, which is honestly a huge feat considering its current in-game state makes it... very lonely and desolate by nature

🔔Super fashionable Toon, but he's also a little modest with his outfits

🔔He's ALWAYS gossiping in at least 3 people's whispers at any given point in time

Multislacker

🥪Is usually too lazy to push buttons himself, so he watches someone else play his Toon most of the time

🥪He is 100% never doing a Pacesetter himself

🥪Whenever he DOES play, it's usually easier boss fights and things that don't require much user input

🥪Sometimes gets enough motivation to play with his dad

Vice President

💡Started playing the game because he noticed his son really seemed to like it and he wanted to spend time with Cathal

💡At first, he doesn't really see the appeal of the game. But once he finds out there's a lot of strategy involved, he decides it's "like trying to find that perfect sales pitch!" and keeps playing out of personal interest

💡He'd apply to the Clash team to manage their social media accounts

💡He'd try to convince his coworkers to try out the game

Mouthpiece

☎️She doesn't really get the appeal of the game, but she'll play it anyways because her grandchildren wanted her to play with them

☎️Literally just does whatever her grandchildren wanna do

☎️She'll max her Toon... eventually

☎️She doesn't fully grasp battle strategies, but she knows enough to get by

Major Player

🎹Constantly suggesting things to be added to the allowlist so he can say ridiculous stuff {i.e. he was probably the one who wanted skibidi to be added... yes this is actually something you can say in the game}

🎹This guy would be the kind to accidentally time out in battle because he was typing a long message

🎹If you whisper to him, good luck getting him to whisper back. He... will probably forget to respond

🎹Constantly saving his teammates with PREFECTLY timed unites

Chief Financial Officer

💵Plays because Allan convinced him to do it

💵Surprisingly, he finds it enjoyable right off the bat. He especially likes battles

💵He feels a bit alienated since he's the only one who seems to find it weird and creepy that he can fight against himself in the game, so he just doesn't mention it to anyone else

💵He will have like 148 laff and the last 2 laff boosts he'll need will be his Cashbot suit LOL

Firestarter

🔥Mostly only plays because Graham wanted him to

🔥Wants to take his time with everything and try to actually figure out how to strategize, but he's usually too soft spoken to ask questions to anyone but Graham {who gives vague answers because he doesn't really know how to strategize}

🔥But if he makes a friend... TONS of badmouthing others in whispers happens. Much shade will be thrown and more tea will be spilled than was spilled in the Boston Tea Party

🔥Once he finally figures out how to play the game, oh you bet he's gonna use it to secretly make fun of others who don't know how to play. He knows he was once just like them, but he doesn't care

Plutocrat

🌑He makes his satellite investors play with him so he doesn't have to wait for groups

🌑Also bosses them around from what gags they need to bring to what everyone's outfits look like {they all match and they're all in a club together}

🌑Because of all the help, he reaches 150 really fast

🌑Only helps his investors if it benefits him as well and doesn't really play with many other people

Chief Legal Officer

📚Plays because Allan suggested it to her

📚Is SUPER detail-oriented with her gameplay, so she always knows if she's in kill range. Also, she's very good at assessing the best strategy to use

📚Very no nonsense type of Cog, so she doesn't really do anything unless it's to advance in the game somehow

📚Has like 500 of each type of unite, like 7K C&Ds, 3K pink slips....

Treekiller

🪵Genuinely finds it VERY fun to destroy Cogs

🪵He'll convince Chip to play with him

🪵Don't think he'd ever max, but he'd get close. Like... 130-140 laff kind of close

🪵Loves to spam rewards in boss fights

Chainsaw Consultant

🪚Only plays the game because Spruce wanted him to

🪚Although he won't say anything in the game about it, he gets pretty mad when people make bad choices in battle

🪚Usually plays with music turned off and sound effects still on, which many others have told him is very eerie

🪚Doesn't seem to enjoy battles very much, but he won't outwardly admit that

Chief Executive Officer

⛳Plays because Allan suggested it to him

⛳I don't think I'm surprising anyone when I tell you that the first thing he's doing is maxing golf. He'd be scary good at it too, like he'd get a perfect 9 in the hole kit and kaboodle

⛳Doesn't actually get very far in the game since the rest isn't all that interesting to him

⛳He finds it... interesting how C.O.G.S., Inc. is portrayed in the game.

Featherbedder

💤Tends to prefer shorter playing sessions

💤Makes slow progress over the course of years

💤Also hangs out with friends quite often

💤Falls asleep at the keyboard... a lot. Like, a lot. It's just a known thing they do

Pacesetter

👟Tries to basically speedrun the entire game

👟If he goes sad {which will be a lot since he's so under leveled}, he will blame it on anything but his own fault

👟Once he unlocks his own fight, he will spam it over and over. He's... not really sure what to think when he goes sad to himself. Did he win, or did he... lose? Is he awesome, or...? Okay, yeah, thinking about that is stupid and for losers

👟Shows off all his manager loot in a way HE thinks looks good. Whether or not it actually does... I'll leave for you to decide

Chief Operating Officer

📋Seems to genuinely enjoy playing the game

📋Doesn't really have many friends and tends to multitoon so he's "less burdensome" sometimes

📋He'd 100% apply for Clash support team {whether or not he gets in I'll let you decide} because he'd just like the game that much

📋SUPER kind and always willing to help other people out

Scapegoat

🐐He's the one who suggested the entire Litigation Team play it

🐐He's either REALLY pissed off or super calm about battles with no in-between

🐐Tends to make a lot of... less optimal choices in battle or needs to be told what to do. He just struggles a little with strategy sometimes

🐐100% he spams forges in like every fight so he can do more damage with that extra level 8. Oh, he also loves to set up with IOUs and uses a lot of those too

Case Manager

💼You'll think this guy is muted because he won't use SpeedChat+ like, ever. I mean, he doesn't really use SpeedChat either, but he at least USES it.

💼Has gags set up to play more of a supportive role in battle, always tries to pick gags last, and generally has a somewhat more passive play style

💼He does communicate a decent amount with stickers, surprisingly

💼Already has a maxed Toon and is just working on his alt

Stenographer

⌨️She would play on any control scheme EXCEPT a QWERTY keyboard {or even AZERTY, Colemark, Dvorak... basically any common layout}. I feel like she'd be pretty much allergic to it lol. And yes, she does think she's better than you for it. [Author's note: I use Dvorak on my phone and my only advice is don't.]

⌨️She's the kind of person to talk on and on and on and on and... oh my Cog how is she typing this essay so fast anyways?!

⌨️During segments like the final OCLO round, she ABSOLUTELY sweats it with like pixel perfect movements. And if she had a mic, you would hear intense keyboard pressing {or whatever she's using to control her Toon}

⌨️A little rude sometimes, but she's USUALLY pretty nice. Oh, and if you befriend her then she gossips a lot

Litigator

🐊He's an elitist LOL

🐊He would get soooooo mad and start cussing people out over one "mistake" and also be the kinda person to straight up leave a boss fight because of an argument

🐊Sorry, but I genuinely cannot see this guy being fun to play with

🐊Also I feel like he'd have a super old YouTube channel from TTO days of him greening people

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trivialbob · 3 months

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I am back home from vacation in Isla Mujeres. Sheila is staying a few more days. We know other visitors on the island. Sheila is hanging out with them this week.

The Island is a 25 minute ferry ride from Cancun. It is about tourism, but not at all like being inside an all-inclusive resort. Many folks we ran into visit Isla for several weeks at a time and stay in small condos or rooms.

(A bit long, with pictures, below the cut)

We rented a two-bedroom place in a small, four-unit building. It was at the north end of the island. That's where many of the American and Canadian visitors stay. But locals live there too. From our roof we could see the family next door, cooking and putting out their laundry to dry. Our door is the blue one in the bottom left picture.

Some US hotels I've been at lately don't offer daily changes of sheets and towels. "For the sake of the environment," ya know. Our modest place in Isla included fresh sheets and towels every day in addition to full room cleaning. It felt luxurious.

More local people live mid-island and to the south end. However, visitors rent places all over the narrow island. A couple we know has the equivalent of a studio apartment mid-island for two months at $600/month. A realtor would call it "Very cozy." I liked it.

That couple has bicycles they store there for when they come back each winter. They also rent a golf cart from time to time to drive around the island, as many visitors do. Some Americans and Canadians purchase places instead of renting. Some beautiful, modern houses dot the island.

One of the first things I did upon arrival was slather myself in SPF 50 sunscreen. My pasty white head and back made the soft, white beach sand look like black pepper in comparison. The sunscreen worked well. I have only one small patch of burned skin where I missed covering a spot on one ankle.

You won't find chain restaurants here. The few banks and gas stations have familiar names, but that's about it for big brands.

Warning signs are few and far between. Servers bring cold beer to the beach, in glass bottles. This was my fourth or fifth visit and Sheila's 12th. We've never seen or heard someone break a bottle. There are no lifeguards at beaches or pools.

When crossing roads, cars, golf carts, and scooters seem to have the right-of-way over pedestrians. Sidewalks are rough and uneven. You learn to be careful and pay attention. At times soldiers and police patrolled the streets with rifles. We felt secure the whole time, even while walking in dimly lit local neighborhoods.

One resort-like place where we hung out at for a few hours has a pool with concrete seats and tables in the water. A server, seeing me cooling off in the water, asked if I'd deliver a glass ashtray to four women sitting at table in the pool.

Smoking isn't allowed inside bars and restaurants, thank God. Unlike the US where that's just understood, there are some No Fumar signs posted in Isla businesses. I bet I didn't see more than a dozen people smoking the whole time I was there.

Touristy stuff is there if you want that. Two streets have vendors hawking t-shirts, magnets, and such. Scuba and fishing trips are available if that's your thing. Golf carts and scooters can be rented. Mainly I eat good food, drink relatively inexpensive drinks and cheap beer, read, and relax. Surprisingly though, I recorded 10,000 or more steps every day.

Many of the older buildings would make an American code inspector twitch with anxiety. Few stairs, even very steep ones, have railings. Nor do all the rooftops. Our place had a railing on top but the buildings next to us did not. A realtor might call those "Unencumbered terraces." I easily could have done one of those cop TV show stunts, jumping from building to building while chasing a perp down the block.

Try tracing these wires. Or finding the source of the water lines. A realtor might say "Plentiful utilities." We did have excellent water pressure, hot and cold. Just don't drink it.

Bathrooms in some bars and restaurants... oh my. An Applebee's is more sanitary, but then you are eating at Applebee's. About ten years ago one of Sheila's friends purchased a toilet seat with her own money and installed it herself in one of the island's bars she liked to frequent. She had developed some nice leg muscles from so much hovering. Life's trade-offs, right?

One bar's women's room has a lot of comments in Sharpie about Mark. Some female out there somewhere DOES NOT LIKE MARK. Apparently a frequent visitor to the island, she documents when bad thoughts of Mark cross her mind. The men's room offered some scribbles both for and against Mark. At our table a group of us sat around trying to come up with the story. It could have a chance at being a Netflix/Hulu movie.

We didn't cook. There are too many local places that are fun and tasty. In some parts of the island you can actually order a meal at someone's house and eat on their patio. I'll have a separate post later about how we hired local guy bring us to seven different places for food one night.

Several times we shared restaurant tables with other visitors, some we knew from previous visits, some total strangers. A couple from New Jersey wanted to sit on the patio at a restaurant Sheila and I like. All three outside tables were occupied. We had empty chairs at ours, so we invited them to join us and had a wonderful evening talking with them. The wife did sound a bit like Carmela Soprano. Her husband, however, did not make me remove my cap. Another restaurant had a cat you could pet during dinner at another place.

In addition to the restaurant cat there were sidewalk dogs. They putter around or relax on the warm pavement. People walk and drive around the dogs. I assure you that white dog in the right picture is just sleeping contentedly. I didn't use a flash, so I wouldn't disturb him. The little one on the left greeted me as I walked along the malecón on my way to a massage.

We played pickle ball while there. The courts were in the middle of an area with few tourists. All the players were Americans. I wonder what the local residents think of the game with the bright, plastic balls that go clink, clink, clink. That's me in the yellow hat (top left picture). The bottom two pictures are what was behind the courts.

I could get used to scooter life. Sheila has one at home, but it's engine is literally six times the size of what these ones here have.

Carnival celebrations began on Friday. Our place overlooked the town square, by the Catholic Church. It was fun to watch the celebration with the loud music and lots of people.

That got long! Enough for now.

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stsainz · 11 months

Text

CHICO ROSADO

4.1k words

ship: charlos

side ship: maxiel

characters: carlos sainz, charles leclerc, max verstappen, daniel ricciardo

tags: charlos , car kissing , the car sex comes later , 22 y/o toro rosso carlos is cocky and it’s hot , charles leclerc is babygirl , maxiel is cute , eventual part 2 , eventual nsfw

summary: while in different ranks of formula racing, charles and carlos manage to have their paths cross at a business event. having enjoyed charles’ company, carlos goes out of his way to spend more time with the younger boy. meanwhile, promiscuous articles about carlos are circulating around the formula racing world, and as they spend more time together, charles confronts him about the rumors.

* disclaimer: while based on real life people and events, every instance that occurs in this story is entirely fictitious, and the dates do not accurately reflect real life. i have taken the liberty as author to bend reality and change teams and pairings and the general timeline of formula 1 racing and all related occurrences. this story will be best enjoyed if the reader suspends their disbelief a little <3 enjoy!

*made for mobile reading*

saint sainz presente:

CHICO ROSADO

16 september 2017 radio interview recording room

carlos sweeps a few fingers through the thick of his dark hair, sitting pliantly in a cushy chair with little attention to the commotion of a tech crew around him. he settles his cap back atop his head and finally puts on a pair of large black headphones.

across the table sits an interviewer and a co-host. the three are cozied up in a rather soundproof room. this is carlos’ first radio interview, but it all still feels familiar— in a good way, carlos decides.

he remains demure even though there are no cameras watching him. he fiddles with his hands in his lap, twists the headphone wire, and sinks into his chair as he and the interviewers have a surprisingly unfiltered conversation.

…

interviewer 1: so, the car you drive off the track is… what did you say it was?

carlos: a golf gti, one my parents bought for me.

ah, i see. so not too much luxury outside of racing?

i wouldn’t say that [laughs]. i’m still interested in cars, i love them.

interviewer 2: and he still wants to impress people when he’s not racing [laughs]

does your volkswagen get you any attention from the ladies?

[laughs] i mean…

well, are you in a relationship?

i was, but recently no. i’ve become single in the past few years.

ah, shame to hear it.

was it good while it lasted?

yes, it was good.

was it good in the volkswagen?

[laughs]

[laughs] can you even lay someone in there? is it even big enough? [laughs]

no, no, you can! i mean, it’s possible—

oh, the confidence!

he’s done it.

he has definitely done it. carlos, have you done it in your modest volkswagen gti?

no, you can’t ask that!

[laughs]

i won’t say.

that’s basically a yes!

now i think i know why you’re recently single [laughs]

oh god— were you only treating her to car sex?

[laughs] [pauses] you can’t be asking this live on air, no?

of course we can, it’s our show!

no, no i still won’t answer [laughs]

no answer is an answer, carlos.

19 september 2017 red bull lounge

“carlos, there’s press going around about you having car sex.”

“what?”

max poorly stifles a laugh, his grin radiating even from behind his hand. he passes his phone to carlos; it’s open to an article with his name written in bold.

‘carlos sainz: busy in cars on and off the track!

it was in a recent radio show interview where the formula 1 driver for toro rosso teased his promiscuity around his car— a volkswagen golf gti.

the interviewers egged sainz on with alluding questions, such as “can you even lay someone in there?”, and while sainz portrayed hesitance to confirm anything otherwise, he did confidently press the fact that yes, you can lay a body down in a golf gti.

“you can— i mean, it’s possible,” sainz had told his interviewers. he denied answering explicitly wether or not he has done “it” in his car with his now ex-girlfriend, but listeners are sure that the race-car driver would have been seen blushing had there also been cameras to record the interview.’

carlos tosses max’s phone back to him. there’s a carefree quirk in his eyebrow, and his laugh is smooth and unconcerned.

28 september 2017 carlos’ hotel room

another article.

‘formula 1 driver carlos sainz car sex scandal’

really, it’s a scandal now?

‘…so we all can’t help but wonder— can you have sex in a formula 1 race-car?’

no, not unless you tried hard enough. and even then…

it’s better to start somewhere easier, to try something a bit more spacious. something like: a volkswagen golf gti.

29 september 2017 red bull lounge

“who is the lucky lady laying down in carlos sainz’s VW golf gti?”

“mate,” carlos sighs. “they cannot be serious, these news articles.”

“eh, this one only has a couple hundred reads,” max says.

“so what, you’re just looking for these articles for fun now?”

“yes,” max laughs. “i am. but you know it’s funny, too.”

carlos raises an eyebrow.

“who’s the lucky lady?”

there’s a suspicious pause from max, then, the two boys are snickering and nodding amongst themselves.

7 october 2017 formula 1 & 2 press meet and greet

there’s a reserved look on carlos’ face as he idles next to his fellow competitors. stuffed into a small room, they all waddle a bit like penguins to shake the hands of their younger counterparts— the talented formula 2 drivers.

with greetings to be shared and questions to be both asked and answered, carlos meanders quietly in the background. not avoiding, and not exactly aloof, but perhaps a sweet mixture of both. he has no intent to come across as better-than, and he has enough pride to not wither away in the background.

that must be why he is able to easily linger towards an open seat on a small leather couch, and go comfortably unnoticed by the masses.

but, he is still recognized by one.

“leclerc,” a boy sat next to carlos says, and reaches for carlos’s hand. “charles leclerc. i’m for prema racing.”

carlos shakes his hand. it feels delicate, soft. he knows this boy.

“right, f2’s golden boy, chico de oro.”

“is that what they’re calling me?”

carlos finds it cute, the way charles expresses so confidently but still has the shy dimples of a young boy. he’s an interesting mix, and has been to carlos for some time now.

“it is in the articles, yes. i’ve seen you race. you do good.”

“thank you. i’m a fan of yours as well, it’s nice to meet you.”

carlos didn’t say he was a fan. he contemplates teasing the younger boy with that, hanging it over his head that he admitted to being a fan of carlos first, so easily.

but he’s so earnest, carlos thinks. those dimples and that blush can’t be faked.

“you look a bit red, mate.”

“oh,” charles goes quiet.

“did i do that?” carlos asks, so bluntly and so quietly. (he had leaned in to mutter it softly to charles.)

“it’s warm in here,” charles wipes his palms on his thighs. he’s dressed in his racing suit, his helmet and gloves on the floor between his feet.

carlos has his team jersey on, the material tight but breathable. and of course, his red bull cap sits backwards on his head. he adjusts it and reclines on the couch, pleased with charles’ blush and the quiet hum of voices all around him.

“okay, chico rosado.”

10 october 2017 red bull lounge, post japanese grand prix

a wave of people crowds around max, and carlos is pushed to the edge of the shore. he sits with his trainer, and a few other red bull crew members, at a table near the edge of the lounge. he’s glad for max, but jealous for himself.

last place would have been better than a dnf.

“be grateful that you get to race at all,” his father would say.

daniel comes to sit with him, but doesn’t say much. carlos contemplates his congratulations for max, discusses what went wrong and what went right, and wonders how charles is doing in the lower ranks.

hours later, that same night:

los toros groupchat 10:33 pm

carlos sainz > i think we should party

max v 33 > say more?

dr3 > say less > i’m in

max v 33 > where are we partying?

carlos sainz > we’re in japan. anywhere.

dr3 > i actually know a place, i think

max v 33 > of course you do

dr3 > i think you mean ‘thank you’ babe

carlos sainz > okay 333, i’ll see you guys in 30. > send the location daniel?

dr3 [dr3 shared a location with you.]

carlos sainz > gracias

10:57 pm

carlos sainz > by the way, i’m inviting charles

max v 33 > who?

carlos sainz > el chico de oro de f2. > golden boy leclerc.

one hour later, that same night

daniel has, in daniel fashion, walked his friends into a car meet and promptly abandoned them for drinks and a good time with max. they wander under twinkling stars and flashing neon lights, all mostly out-shined by the iridescent mix of headlights by their feet.

“bit romantic isn’t it? all the headlights acting as stars that we can touch.”

“you know you can’t touch the cars dan,” max says, as if he has said this sentence one hundred times before.

“alright fine. but i do know a star i can touch,” daniel winks at his boyfriend.

they stroll hand in hand down the blocked off road, past rows of sports cars, convertibles, race-cars.

max asks daniel about carlos’ friend. “he’s in formula 2, no?”

“yeah, some ankle biter.”

“he looks my age, dan.”

“what, and you’re not an ankle biter?”

max shoves daniel in the side, chasing his attack with a kiss on the cheek.

“yeah,” daniel continues. “looks like they’re friends now. i dunno, i think the little one might have a bit of a crush on our carlos.”

max silently ponders the possibilities.

laughter erupts all around them, the soundscape joyous but still somewhat promiscuous. a scandalous beat slips out of speakers in the back of some silver mercedes, and max and daniel surely aren’t the only couple to find their kissing to match the rhythm.

charles wonders if carlos will kiss him.

he won’t.

it would be too soon, for no reason other than carlos likes to tease. and, some self restraint is always good to practice.

carlos doesn’t even touch charles this night. they walk side by side, carlos ogling the cars, charles ogling carlos. this type of flashiness has never been introduced to charles. he is used to a more refined, look-but-don’t-touch type of extravagance.

that’s why charles enjoys himself so much. what a new and wonderful experience it is, to go out with a cute boy and have him explain to you the odds and ends of every decked out car you walk by. like a breath of fresh air in a familiar field. charles smells the friendly breeze of gasoline and asphalt, but the flowers carry a different fragrance.

“do you do street racing ever, charles?”

“ah, no. i’ve never found the time to.”

“oh, but you want to?”

charles quirks an eyebrow.

“to find the time?” carlos clarifies.

charles ponders for a moment. “i’m not so sure,” he begins. “i only just recently got my first car, i don’t want to ruin it or anything by racing with it.”

“only now you got your own car?” carlos asks, suddenly working out some math in his head. “and how old are you?”

“well, i am only nineteen, but i have a birthday in a week.”

“really, in a week?”

it’s hard to explain why for charles, but he feels so exposed in front of carlos, now that he knows his birthday. is that such an intimate thing, to know the date that someone came into this world? or perhaps, is charles shying away from carlos’ glance simply because he seems interested in knowing anything about him at all?

“you’ll have to do something then. maybe you can celebrate with a little racing.”

charles glances over to carlos. he’s got such a relaxed face on, and that nonchalant smile… charles can’t help but wonder if it means anything. or maybe the younger is just reading into it... but oh, that look; like carlos has a secret and he doesn’t care if you know it or not.

“when is your birthday?” charles asks, an awkward break of the silence. carlos does laugh at this, but kindly, quietly.

“it was in september.”

“oh! so you just turned…”

“twenty-two. the first of the month.”

“well, happy late birthday, carlos.” charles let’s out a thoughtful hum as he glances at the street food vendors around them. “shall i buy you a present?”

charles’ laugh is light and airy, but the glance carlos passes to him is the opposite.

“i think i already have all that i want.”

13 october 2017 the streets of madrid, spain

the days feel different when carlos is back home in madrid. maybe the air has changed, perhaps the sun shines brighter, the water glistens a little shinier. there is an aura in his home that he quickly finds comfort and strength in.

it’s something like being reawakened. especially now, as he sits with an attentive foot on the pedal of his car.

he’s racing an old friend in front of a shaggy crowd, just a few kids his age eagerly waiting to see the cars peel out. some time has passed since he has done this, and it almost feels even better because of that.

the road is just under 1 kilometer long. carlos wins the race by a second.

15 october 2017 carlos’ bedroom

text message 3:45 pm

unknown > hello carlos :) > i am vacationing in madrid before the race in portugal. no pressure to reply, but i was wondering if you have any places you recommend i visit :)

4:06 pm

unknown > this is charles, by the way > leclerc > :)

4:13 pm

carlos sainz > hola charles. don’t you have a birthday tomorrow?

chico rosado > yes, it is tomorrow

carlos sainz > you won’t be spending it with family then, if you’re here in madrid?

chico rosado > my younger brother is here on vacation with me :)

carlos sainz > i see

4:25 pm

carlos sainz > if you find yourself alone, here’s a good place to hangout. > especially after 9, when la poli are sleepy. [carlos sainz shared a location.]

16 october 2017 the streets of madrid, spain

it’s half past ten, and charles squints through the darkness to find himself amongst a crowd of rowdy people. heavy bass music bumps from behind him, and he weaves through all these unfamiliar bodies, trying to find the one he came here for.

no face in the crowd looks familiar. no words shouted out are really understandable to charles.

he catches a few familiar ones, though, and importantly, he understands when one woman calls out, “el final! están aquí!”

charles steadies his wandering and turns to face the same direction as everyone else. six glowing dots appear on the horizon line, fuzzy and rapidly approaching the crowd of people charles is crammed into.

it becomes clear quickly what they’re all sticking their necks out to see, and charles feels that familiar tug in his stomach the moment he hears the incoming hum and rev of the engines.

it’s unfair to compare them to that of his own race-car, but charles still gets goosebumps at the sight of the three cars barreling down the street as fast as they can. one red, one gray, one black.

they torpedo down the road. he can feel the kiss of a breeze across his face. the finish line is marked in bright orange spray paint. the gray car’s tires roll over it first. then red, then black.

charles cheers, despite being clueless as to who just won. all that he knows is someone won, and that in itself is exciting enough for the young boy. he wishes he had someone to shout with. to shout to, maybe.

he should find carlos.

charles makes his way towards the three cars. the competition seems friendly enough, hugs and high-fives and handshakes are passed around the people closest to the vehicles.

there’s even someone with a beat up megaphone announcing with vigor the results of the race.

in spanish, he calls out, “third place, román gil! in second, emilio maradiaga! and the winner of first place… our chili!”

applause and cheers fill the night air, as do flashing lights and bouncy music. the fanfare dies down rather quickly, but only as it is replaced with groups of people crowding around the cars to see the hype up-close.

charles weaves through the tightening web of people, to where he can stand with some breathing room off to the side. even with all the commotion, a space soon clears up, and grants him a beautiful view.

carlos leans against the hood of the gray car. his gray car. the volkswagen golf gti.

his arms are crossed as he laughs with some friends. he’s in some old gray jeans and a black t-shirt, but charles’ heart still stutters when he sees that nonchalant smile carlos does so well.

charles shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, concealing the nervous fiddling of his fingers. he makes his way towards carlos, his eyes locked on the familiar handsome face.

he hoped it wouldn’t be, but it is awkward at first. the crowd has dwindled down to just four or five people, but charles struggles to find a space to slot himself into nicely. he taps a man on the back, tries to introduce himself, but the language barrier creates friction between them.

“uh, carlos… es mi amigo…” charles tries.

the man shrugs, but let’s him squeeze in any way. carlos notices him instantly.

“you came,” he says.

“i did,” is all charles can seem to say. his eyes linger on carlos’ face; his lips, his nose, his sparkling brown eyes. he’s sure an eternity passes before carlos speaks again.

“did you manage to see the race?”

“just the end of it. but i saw you cross the finish line first, yes.” charles smiles. carlos is rather fond of his sweet dimples. he’d like to see them more often.

it’s not hard to have the crowd of friends around him disperse, so carlos waves them away and makes some excuse that he has to show his friend around. on cue the cars next to his light up, and the commotion is drawn away from carlos and his car.

soon enough, it’s just him and charles.

“come on,” carlos nods his head towards his car, and says nothing further. he makes his way to the passenger side, and waits with his hand on the door handle, as if he and charles do this frequently.

charles rushes to his side, and blushes when carlos opens the door for him, his eyes following charles’ every move into the vehicle.

he wonders where carlos will take him (if anywhere), but mostly he wonders if carlos is happy that he came. he must be, if he invited charles, no? that text message, it was an invitation, right? carlos does want him here? he’s in carlos’ car now, and that can’t be for no reason.

charles twirls his hoodie strings around his finger. carlos starts the car and puts his hand on the back of charles’ seat.

“i’m going to take you somewhere i think you’ll like, charles.”

later, that same night

carlos’ car— his volkswagen golf gti — sits parked on a half sandy, half rocky shore of a secluded swimming pond. the two boys remain seated in the car, the moonlight bouncing off the water giving them enough light to feel safe, and enough darkness to be comfortable.

“seems like this is a good car for street racing,” charles offers, desperate to hear carlos’ voice again. the silence is comfortable, but not what he wants.

“mhm. it’s a good car all around,” carlos says. his fingers trace the steering wheel, the dashboard, the center console. charles has to catch his breath when carlos lands his hand on the gear shift, squeezing it. “it’s versatile.”

a silent moment passes. charles watches as carlos rubs his thumb back and forth on the nob. his blush is coming back.

“i saw that article, by the way,” charles starts, but he’s too shy to say more.

carlos looks at him blankly at first, then with the hint of a smile.

“the one claiming i had a lot of car sex in here?”

charles’ eyes widen. “yes, um… that one.”

“so?” carlos asks.

charles fails to understand. carlos’ smile grows a bit when he sees the way the younger boy’s eyebrows curve into two confused squiggles.

“what do you think?” carlos asks.

“oh… it’s a nice car. i like it.” charles takes his turn to run his fingers along the interior.

“that’s not what i meant, but thank you.”

“what did you mean, then?” charles stares at the gear shift, at carlos’ hand.

“what do you think about me having lots of sex in here, chico rosado?”

charles freezes, the pit of his stomach clenching and sending heat throughout him. god, is he that easy? he has to play it cool.

“you keep calling me that name, but i’m not sure what it means.”

“chico rosado?” carlos repeats. charles nods his head, shyly looking up at the older boy.

carlos smiles. he lifts his hand from the gear shift, and boldly rests it on charle’s face. his thumb strokes over his cheek. “it means… pink boy. i call you that, instead of golden boy, because of this color right here.”

the spot carlos refers to is charles’ soft cheek, but with his forwardness and big hand touching charles’ skin, the blush rapidly spreads to his neck and ears.

“and,” carlos begins. and although it’s small, perhaps only a fraction of a second long, carlos shows his first sign of hesitance. he pauses, then swipes his thumb over charles’ glossy lower lip. “you’re pink right here, too.”

while charles’ heart rate may spike, the way time moves around him suddenly feels as if it has slowed. the night sky is pitch black and still. carlos’ fingers move a millimeter a second across his lip. so slow it nearly tickles.

chico rosado. pink boy, not golden.

charles turns away from carlos.

“so you’re teasing me, then?” he asks.

“i never said it was a bad thing, charles.”

“it’s not something i can help,” charles’ voice is nearing the volume of a whisper. his attempt to remove carlos’ hand from him has failed, rendering him staring sadly at his feet while carlos keeps his hand on charle’s shoulder.

some crickets sing outside of the car. the moonlight dances over the water, over both of their faces. charles sighs. was he too naive? was he foolish, to think all of this might have been something else?

“growing up, i’ve always been teased for it,”

“charles—“

“i was called girly for it. and that’s not even a bad thing, but they all meant it bad.”

carlos doesn’t remove his hand from charles’ shoulder. in fact, the younger boy feels it gently creep up to his neck.

“i know it was all meaningless teasing, but it still stuck with me.”

“i’m sorry they bullied you like that.”

“it’s fine. i just thought… i’m just sad it’s happening again. i thought—“

“charles, i’m not teasing you. i’m flirting with you.”

carlos would like to keep the look on charles’ face framed and on his wall. his mouth so pink and pouty, eyes glossy from his emotions but widened from carlos’ clearly stunning words.

“could you really not tell?” carlos asks.

“i thought so, at some moments, but… i second guessed myself.”

“were you not, too? when we met at that press meet and greet?”

“only a little.”

“i thought you were sweet. i liked how you introduced yourself to me, and called yourself a fan of mine.”

carlos manages to replace his hand on charles’ cheek. soft and gentle, just how charles needs to be handled.

“and i liked how you blushed. you’re quite pretty, charles.”

the still air around them slowly swells into a breeze. a fragrance of autumn blows by their faces, through the partly open windows of carlos’ car. it’s quiet, and it’s comforting— it’s them.

“can i kiss you?” carlos whispers.

“please.”

for continuity’s sake, and for his own pleasure, carlos leans in slower than charles thinks he can bear. it’s the same craving he has had for weeks now, and charles is nearly salivating now that he’s about to have a taste.

for a moment, he thinks it might be too much— too sweet, too delicious, too good to handle. for a moment his heart jumps into his throat, and if it weren’t stuck right in his adam’s apple, charles might shout out a weak, half-hearted wait!

instead, carlos catches the tail end of a gasp from charles in his own mouth.

he kisses him, gentle and slow and steady, right on his pink lips. his hand still cupping charles’ face, his fingers teasing his blush up to the surface. carlos kisses charles, once and then twice, the second longer than the first.

and when he pulls away, he sees exactly what he wants to see; his chico rosado, blushing for him, smiling.

“joyeux anniversaire, charles.”

“gracias, carlos.”

“i’ll have more gifts for you later, when the time is right.”

carlos caresses charles’ face, hooking his fingers beneath the younger boy’s chin. he uses the leverage to pull him in closer, and with a teasing haste, carlos kisses charles for the last time that night.

⭒

thank you so much for reading my story! i hope you enjoyed it <3 keep an eye out for part 2!

#charlos #charlos fanfic #fanfic #f1 fic #carlos sainz #carlos sainz fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #maxiel

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