#god i love a south american man

[urmomsgnocchi]

he's just so <3333

(for non-south americans, weon is slang in chile, sometimes part of a phrase "weon feo[ugly guy]" which is how my friends and i use it as non chilenos, but it just means like dude, jerk, idiot, guy)

[vitamin-zeeth]

For my English course this year I wrote an essay on the debate of fine art vs contemporary art and I haven't reread it since I sent it in I wanna see if I can find this shit cause I have no clue what I ended up stating as my opinion

[coff33andb00ks]

Rule Breaker - Pt 2

max verstappen x single mom!reader

{prev} {next}

warnings: cursing, reader y/nsplains, jos is an asshole, fluff, barely proofread, logan tries to flirt, y/n's bestie is a tumblr girlie at heart, kiddo steals the show Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 6833 auth.note: thank you all so much for the love for part 1!!! ily all and i'm having so much fun writing this

The paddock was relatively quiet so early in the morning. Unable to sleep, y/n had left the hotel and made her way to the track. She was taking the opportunity to explore the settings on the camera and getting her bearings since she didn't have any work duties to complete until later in the day. She had expected Kevin to want to come with her, but he'd opted to sleep in with Ellie, who would bring him to the track later. So she wandered, exchanging the occasional greeting with others. Stopping to take a photo of a bird perched on the fence in front of pit lane, she backed up, crashing into someone.

"Whoop, s'cuse me, sorry," she said, turning to apologize properly. She recognized the two men by their faces but her mind blanked on their names.

"It's alright, ma'am. Didn't mess up your shot, did we?" His American accent was a happy surprise.

"I don't think so." Smiling, y/n lowered the camera. "My fault, and I'll blame it on being new."

"Marketing?" The other man guessed.

Australian. And suddenly she remembered their names. "Social media. I'm y/n."

"So great to meet you." Logan tipped his head slightly. "Carolina?"

"God, you can take the hick outta Carolina, but you can't take the Carolina outta the hick." He grinned and she laughed. "North Carolina, yeah."

Oscar stared at Logan. "How did you guess that? She just sounds plain American?"

"No, dude, it's the lilt. It's like when George got pissed we couldn't pick up on the different English accents."

"Can he pick up on the different American south accents?" y/n asked.

Logan rolled his eyes. "He knows Brooklyn, Midwest, valley girl, and just south."

"In his defense it's hard to pick out each individual one," Oscar pointed out.

Y/n shrugged. "You've got a point. I sound different from people that grew up just an hour from me."

"Yeah! And I know mine's been butchered from so much time in Europe." Logan nodded.

"You still sound more like home than anyone else I've met."

"I was gonna say the same thing – you sound like home." He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that had her smiling in return.

"And what do I sound like?" Oscar asked with a grin.

"A magical place far, far away," y/n told him. She covertly checked the time and wondered if hospitality had finished setting up so she could get some coffee.

"Hear that? I sound like Star Wars."

"She's using southern charm on you, dude," Logan snorted.

"Well it's working, I'm charmed."

A giggle bubbled up her throat and she let it free, raising her camera and giving them a hopeful look. "Okay?"

"Hang on—" Logan fussed with his hair, and y/n laughed when Oscar reached to help him, then they both had to fuss with Oscar's hair. "Think we're presentable enough?"

She nodded, moving so the sunlight was beside them. She got several photos and thanked them. "I'll send them to y'alls social media teams?"

"You can just send it to me." Logan began patting his pockets for his phone.

"Unbelievable," Oscar muttered under his breath, and y/n barely heard it, giving Logan her number and adding him to her contacts once he'd sent her a text.

"I should get going – Sorry for bumping into you."

"Don't apologize, I'm glad you did."

As she walked away she gave her head a little shake, smiling to herself when she overheard Oscar's grumbling that Logan had flirted with fuckin' Red Bull's social media admin. Something told her to glance back and she did, amused to see Logan watching her. Don't show interest, don't show interest, don't—

He gave a little wave. And she smiled, waving back.

Fuck.

Ducking around the corner, she wandered until she found hospitality, grogginess taking over as she made her way to the back to fix herself coffee. She recognized a couple engineers and mechanics that she'd met in Milton Keyes and greeted them, settling into a corner to drink and look over the pictures she'd gotten.

She was on her second coffee, had uploaded the pictures to her laptop, and was editing the first batch for a short video when the chair across from her was pulled out, taking her shoe with it.

"Sorry," Max said when she yelped, chuckling as he bent to pick up her shoe. "Didn't know you were attached."

"Bad habit I'm afraid." Taking the shoe, she shifted to put it back on. "Picked it up when I was pregnant now I do it without thinking."

"For the swelling?" he asked, sitting down and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah." After tying the shoelace she shifted, tucking one foot beneath her. "Good morning, by the way."

"Morning. Already working?"

"I'm gonna do a short photo tour of the track. I got some nice shots."

"You walked the track?"

"I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep, so… It's beautiful first thing in the morning."

Max nodded, picking up his coffee again. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"Max, you should know that hotel beds suck. Especially with a three year old sleeping sideways and a snoring friend in the other bed. Is this where you tell me you slept great?"

"Haha, no. My sleep was shit but it wasn't because of the bed. I didn't get enough." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I was up late sim racing."

"Okay, explain sim racing to me," she requested, slipping one earbud in so she could check that the music she'd selected went well with the photos. Tweaking it as he began to talk, she realized she was barely paying attention to her work, exporting and posting the video to all the platforms then closing her laptop to focus on him. He talked with his hands. It was something she'd picked up on already, that if he was focused on the topic he used his hands. Maxplaining the fans called it. Finishing her coffee, she listened intently, propping her chin on one hand.

 He smiled, almost shyly, as he finished. "It's something I truly enjoy. I'm not very sociable. I like going out once in a while, but I prefer to stay in, yeah? And I can spend hours in the sim without thinking twice."

"I spent the last few days watching a lot of interviews. Not just of you and Checo, but everyone on the grid," y/n said softly. "Leclerc talks about piano and his family, Norris talks about gaming and DJing, and Hamilton has his six hundred side projects."

"Yes?" He didn't look or sound impatient for her to get to the point, and she appreciated that.

"The thing is, they all have passions outside of racing. This – formula one, fastest cars, all that – is a goal, a dream, but they all have something else they love, that they can pursue now." She paused, meeting his eyes. "The only thing I've seen you passionate about is racing."

He blinked once, nodding his head. "Because it is my passion."

Y/n regarded him carefully for a moment. "You're very lucky, Max."

That must have surprised him, because his brow furrowed. "Why do you say that?"

"Not everyone is able to be successful following their passion. Being able to do what you love for both a job and hobbies is almost unheard of, yet you're doing it. You break records and win races and yeah you've had a few setbacks but you're still in love with this. And on your off time you're training to be better and studying tracks and you go home and race on your computer." She shook her head in amazement. "You're incredibly lucky, that your passion is not only something you're good at but something you can be immersed in nonstop, and that you haven't lost your love for it."

"I guess I am lucky," he said carefully. "But luck had nothing to do with me getting into formula one."

"I know." She held up her hands, not wanting him to think she thought he was in the position he was purely by chance. "I can't imagine how much work you've done over the years, or how many sacrifices you've had to make. It's just… In my experience, passion doesn't always equal financial stability is what I'm trying to say."

"What's that saying? Do something you love and you never work a day in your life?"

Y/n snorted. "That's bullshit. I love sleeping and yet I still have to work."

That made him laugh and she rolled her eyes, even though she enjoyed the sound. "Surely you love more than sleep."

"I love a lot of things. Maybe that's been my problem all my life. I find things and fall in love with them and when I think hey this might be it something new and shiny comes along and I fall in love with that."

"There's nothing wrong with being passionate about many things," Max said gently.

"That's what I keep telling myself. And yet—"

"Are you saying you don't love your job?"

She froze, a wave of panic rippling through her. "Uhmm… Since it's technically my first day I can't answer that."

"Okay. Do you love your social media?" he asked, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table.

The table which was, suddenly, smaller than she remembered.

"I like engaging others. I like creating conversations and seeing my work appreciated," she finally said.

"You sound like a PR person. Do you love it?" He enunciated each word slowly.

She couldn't say yes. The answer wasn't no, either, because she didn't hate it. "I personally hate it. But you've learned how to make it work for you, yeah? How to word things to spark a conversation among followers? What type of content people appreciate?"

"I like to think so."

"Stop being so unsure of yourself. You study it, right? At your last job when you posted a video and no one liked it what did you do? "

She exhaled harshly. "I compare it to ones that did well and pick it apart to see why it didn't work."

"Why?"

"Why?" she echoed.

"Why did you pick it apart?"

"Because I wanted it to do well," she said slowly.

"And these conversations you want to create, do you join in or sit and watch them happen behind the safety of your screen?" He reached over, gently turning her laptop so he could see the screen.

"I engage. I reply and ask questions to make the viewers want to keep the conversation going."

"Why?"

"Because—" She clicked the mouse, bringing up the comments below the video she'd posted to Instagram. "These comments? Come from people that love this brand – or sport. Some of them are trolls who just want to start up an argument to make their boring lives more interesting for a few minutes, but for the most part it's people who care. People who want to see this team do well. People who had the dream of doing it themselves but life got in the way. People who watched it with their parents and still watch to stay connected to someone they love. It's little kids who want to be like you. It's people who spend their hard earned money on a t-shirt or a hat or a ticket to see someone they admire live out their dream." She took a quick breath, scrolling through the comments. "If I don't like or respond to them, they feel like their opinions don't matter. And maybe they don't in the grand scheme of formula one. But they want to be seen and heard. When I click and they see that Red Bull Racing liked their comment or replied with an emoji or whatever, they have a few seconds of elation, and their support of this team is cemented just a bit more."

Max blinked at her, and she continued even though she heard him draw a breath to speak.

"I know very well how horrible social media can be. However, I've seen how it fosters growth for a company. You're not stupid, I'm sure you've seen how TikTok challenges or Instagram livestreams have brought in more support. Not to mention money. If a post of you wearing your Red Bull shirt gets a million likes, I can probably pull the data and show you that a hundred thousand people went to view the shirt on the official shop and probably twenty-five thousand ordered one. A silly picture of you arriving for race day or a new helmet design pulls people in and gets them excited. And, yes, it makes money. Which in turn pays the salaries of everyone on the team."

"Y/n."

She sucked in a breath. "I'm—"

"Passionate," he whispered before she could say sorry.

"I know what it's like to enjoy something and never feel included," she murmured. "So, yeah… I guess I love what I do, because I like that I can include people in something they love."

His hand covered hers briefly. "For a moment there, I even loved social media."

She watched his fingers squeeze hers before they slid away, wondering why his touch lingered. "Yeah?"

"It's easy to forget that there are real people saying nice things. Sometimes all you can see is the negativity."

"Negativity only breeds more negativity—"

"And when you look at it, it's all you'll see," he murmured.

"Well… So far everything I've posted today has been met with positivity."

"That's good."

"Okay, a few comments about wanting to see Lando on the podium. Thank you for letting me rant about why I do what I do," she said, glancing at his hand without meaning to.

"You let me do the same," he reminded her. Lifting his chin, he waited until she looked at him again. "Are you too busy to see what I was talking about?"

"I don't have anything scheduled until after lunch."

"Perfect." He lightly drummed on the table and stood. "Do you want to see my rig?"

"You do know I won't have a clue what anything but the computer and monitor are, right?" Smiling, she stood and began packing away her stuff.

Closing her laptop, he handed it over, catching her earbud when it fell off the edge of the table. "Maybe you'll like it so much you'll want one of your own."

*-*

He was rambling, he knew he was, telling her about the setup and his plan for the 24 hour race over the weekend and how he had everything scheduled so he could do two of the things he loved most. But he could tell she was paying attention, actually listening, as if she really cared. Rubbing his palms against his thighs, he finished and looked up at her.

"So this is your actual job and the f1 thing is just a hobby?" she teased.

Laughing, he got to his feet and got himself a can of Red Bull. "It's just racing, y/n."

"And racing is life."

"Absolutely." He watched her muffle a yawn behind her hand.

"Am I allowed to mention it in my posts? Because it sounds so badass. Sim race stint then qualifying, chug a Red Bull, sim race stint then race."

"You can mention it, not like it's a secret." He watched her hide another yawn and cleared his throat. "Looks like you need a Red Bull."

She shook her head. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Nodding, he checked the time. Just over an hour before he had to meet with his trainer. "Of course."

"I hate Red Bull," she whispered.

He choked on a laugh. "You what?"

"I've tried so many times! I can just about stomach one of the flavored editions, but the original? Tastes like battery acid to me." She looked embarrassed and covered her face with her hands. "Please don't tell anyone."

"You hate the drink. So you accepted a job with a team owned by the drink company." He wanted to laugh. It was so absurd to him.

"Yes," she groaned.

"That would be like me taking a job at Instagram."

"I know it's so bad. What makes it worse is I love Monster—"

"Of course you do," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Please say you won't tell anyone. If corporate hears, I'll probably get fired. It's in my contract that I can only drink that while in pubic during race weekends which means I've got to either stick to water or learn to fake it."

"Your secret's safe with me," Max promised, breathing in the aroma of her perfume as she moved past him to get her bag.

"Thank you. I think Ellie would kill me if I told her I have to find a new job."

He didn't want her to go so soon. Ridiculous because he knew he'd see her in just a few hours. By the end of the weekend he'd be sick of seeing her. Sipping his drink, he finally sighed and cleared his throat. "You can take a power nap."

She whipped her head around, sending a wave of her perfume his way. "What?"

"A power nap." Before he could stop himself he was setting down his drink and taking her bag off her shoulder. "Thirty minutes, and you'll feel great."

"Max—"

"You need to be alert and focused, and I don't have a Monster for you to drink. Please, I insist." He motioned to his bed in the far corner, gently nudging her shoulder when she hesitated.

"You're sure?" she asked softly, and when he assured her he was she bent to take off her shoes, looking almost elated as she walked over to the bed. "Wait, I need to set an alarm."

"I'll wake you."

She lifted an eyebrow and he pulled out his phone to set a thirty minute timer. Satisfied, she sat on the edge of the bed, thanking him several times as she laid down and curled up on her side. "Thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes," he murmured, sitting on the couch to answer emails. It was fifteen minutes before she stopped shifting and kicking, and when he heard her breathing even out he knew she was asleep. Resetting the timer, he stood and carefully pulled the blanket over her, then returned to the couch and tried his best to ignore that she was sleeping in his room.

Her phone started buzzing on the table. She didn't stir so he ignored it, focusing on his email. That was impossible though so he cleared out his unread texts, one foot bouncing each time he heard her breathe. A mistake. It had been a mistake. He jumped up when her phone began to buzz again and, glancing from it to her, he realized she would undoubtedly sleep through it. He picked it up and was about to silence it when he saw the name on the screen. Ellie. That was her friend that was helping with Kevin… Something could be wrong, so he answered the call and lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, we just— Who's this?"

"Max. This is Ellie?"

"…Yes…" The woman sounded wary. "Why are you – Oh! Max! Right of course. Um, is y/n okay?"

Max looked over at her, smiling faintly when she shifted. "She's fine. Taking a nap, actually."

Ellie snorted. "Of course she is."

"Is everything okay with Kevin?"

As though aware of the question, Kevin began chattering in the background. "Yeah, he's perfect. I was calling to let her know we just got here but I ain't got a clue where to go."

"Are you at the main entrance?" he asked, slipping out of the room so he wouldn't wake y/n. Ellie told him where they were and he nodded as he pulled out his own phone to text one of the team assistants. "You're going to walk down to the turnstiles, scan your passes and come through. Someone will be there to meet you and bring you to the motorhome."

"Ok perfect. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. We'll be downstairs to meet you." Ending the call, he checked that the assistant was going to meet them then reentered his room. He closed the door and silenced his timer. "Y/n?"

She hummed in her sleep, and he smiled while he crossed over to the bed.

"Y/n," he called gently. She groaned, shifting to face away from him and it suddenly occurred to him that when he went to bed that night he would smell her on the pillow and the sheets. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea, but it was too late now.

Would he be an asshole if he had his sheets changed before the end of the day?

Leaning down, he gently touched her shoulder. She inhaled sharply and he saw her eyes snap open. "You have company on its way," he said softly, tugging the covers back in case she tried to get comfortable again. His eyes swept down, locking on the skin bared by her shirt, which had ridden up in her sleep. "Come on, you had a nice nap, time to wake up."

"This bed is so much more comfortable than the one at the hotel," she mumbled, slowly sitting up and turning to face him. Smoothing down her shirt, she stretched and sighed, blinking as she focused on him. "Oh! Ellie and Kevin!"

He laughed as she leapt to her feet, his hands immediately moving to steady her. "It's fine, they haven't even made it to the paddock yet. I've sent someone to meet them."

"Oh," she murmured. "Thank you."

His hands were on her hips, and he forced his breathing to remain calm as she rested her hands on his forearms. The space, which had felt roomy and open, now felt tiny with how close she was to him. He was painfully aware of the scant space between them and each place their bodies touched, but more so of her. That heady floral scent of her perfume and the softness of her palms against his skin. The gentle lushness of her hips. He could hear every breath as his gaze traveled up from her hands to her face, lingering on her slightly parted lips before settling on her eyes. "You good?"

"Yep."

"Right. Sorry," he mumbled, releasing her hips and taking a step back. "I'll get your shoes."

What was wrong with him? It hadn't been so long that he got turned on like a teenager just from touching a woman… As he bent to retrieve her shoes he counted back, dragging a hand over his face in humiliation. What must she think of him? He'd brought her to his room, showed off his fancy toys, then let her sleep in his bed. She probably thought he wanted to fuck her—

You do.

—which couldn't be further from the truth. He was just being nice. Because she was nice. That was all.

Wasn't it?

And why, he wondered as he handed her shoes to her and told her about answering Ellie's call, did he care what she thought? Not caring was his specialty.  

"How do you feel?" he asked, finishing his drink in one gulp.

"Refreshed. Thank you so much, Max." She tied her shoes and ran her fingers through her hair. Her lips moved but he didn't hear a word she said, watching her gather her hair and twist and twirl it, securing it with a band from her wrist.

Witchcraft.

"That okay with you?" she asked, slipping her phone into her pocket.

"Of course," he answered automatically.

She clapped her hands together. "Great! I'll put up a post asking for fan questions."

Max blinked, pinching his brows together. "Fan questions."

"Well we can't do an impromptu Q and A without questions." She had her other phone out now, fingers flying across the screen. "We'll do it this afternoon? Just let me know the best time."

Fuck's sake. What had he agreed to? More importantly, how had she gotten him to say yes? Everyone knew he had a low tolerance for marketing. He could take it back and say no, he couldn't do it today. He could tell her to get Checo to do it, that he would do it another time. He'd gotten out of marketing and social media stupidity without a problem plenty of times before. But he was already opening his calendar, going over his schedule, already telling her the open slot he had at 5, and was already putting Q and A with Y/n in that space.

"Perfect," she enthused, shouldering her bag and heading for the door, her fingers still tapping swiftly on the screen. "They should be here about now, right?"

Nodding, he followed her out the room and down, smiling when Kevin came through the front door with a woman he assumed was Ellie. The boy dropped her hand and sprinted over to y/n, who dropped down to hug him tightly. Max looked on, chest squeezing, searching for something that had been lacking, as mother and son talked and hugged, their words overlapping. They both understood each other perfectly, though, and he smiled at Kevin's excited retelling of what he'd had for breakfast. Introducing himself to Ellie, he reached to shake her hand.

"Mister Max!" The boy squealed.

"Kevin!" He was down in a split second, Ellie forgotten and chest constricting tighter as Kevin hugged him like a long lost friend.

"I saw two cats and a horse!" Kevin tugged at his shirt, grinning as he showed off his Red Bull merch.

"You did? What kind of cats?" he asked, taking the boy's cap and beginning to roll the brim for him while the boy described the cats and then the horse. Returning the cap, he enthused over animals, telling him about his own two cats and pulling out his phone to show him a few pictures.

"I miss Cotton," Kevin said with a small pout.

"Is that your cat?" Max saw his trainer approaching and gave him a quick nod.

"Yeah. We can't bring him to Eng-a-lund so Aunt Ellie's sister has him." Kevin's pout melted into a faint smile. "But she sends lots of pictures!"

"That's good. And maybe you'll be able to get him soon."

"Mama says it's s'pensive." The boy sighed as though he had to earn the money to bring his beloved cat to England.

"I know," Max sympathized. "Go with your mum, yeah? I've got to go train."

Kevin's face puckered in confusion. "Train? Like Shang?"

Y/n cleared her throat. "We watched Mulan on the flight last night."

"What did Shang do?" Max vaguely remembered the movie, but it had been years since he'd seen it.

"He made a man out of 'em."

"Okay, doodle bug, we have to let Max get his workout in," y/n said, flashing Max a smile. "If you ask another question he'll start singing the song."

Max stared at her then turned his attention back to Kevin. "What song?"

Because he had to. Because hearing her groan as her son began singing a song about being a man was priceless. And the dramatic way she hung her head when Ellie joined in made him laugh. Kevin giggled, cutting off his singing and looking at Max hopefully. "Will you watch it with me?"

"I—"

"Mister Max is too busy to watch a movie," y/n cut in.

"We'll watch it this weekend," Max promised, hating the sadness in the boy's eyes. Relieved when it disappeared in a flash, he gave him a high five and stood.

"Yay!"

He exchanged a look with y/n, who sighed and nodded, reaching for Kevin's hand. "I'll see you later," he said.

"5 o'clock," she reminded him as he headed out.

*-*

"So…"

Y/n groaned at Ellie's knowing tone. Watching as Kevin was snatched up by Lando so he wasn't crashed into by Charles in the impromptu game of football, she folded her arms over her chest. "So?"

"He had coffee with you."

God, here we go.

"Showed you his private room and his expensive computer setup… Let you take a nap in his bed—"

"He's just being nice," y/n insisted.

"And he's gonna take time out of his ridiculously busy weekend to watch a movie with Kevin." Ellie hummed, taking a sip of her tea.

Ignoring her, y/n looked on as Lando, Oscar, and Logan pretended to fight back the others while Kevin kicked the ball towards the goal. They were all shouting, dramatic and over the top, and above it all she heard the sweetest sound of her son's laughter. When the ball rolled into the net there was a roar that rivaled a championship game, and she joined in the cheering and applauding.

"You could do worse," Ellie murmured.

"Would you stop?" Y/n rolled her eyes, giving Logan a thumbs up when he gestured to the football and Kevin, understanding they wanted to have another quick game.

"He's cute."

"They all are," y/n muttered without thinking, lifting her camera for a few photos for her personal collection. Recognizing Checo when he suddenly appeared in the viewfinder, she snapped more photos, lowering the camera to watch.

"You know—"

"I can't wait for you to start your job so I can come and try to partner you up with a coworker," she huffed, snorting when Ellie gasped.

"You wouldn't."

"In a heartbeat."

"Besides, there's only one person in that group that's technically your coworker," Ellie said.

"I'm not here for that."

"I know." Ellie leaned against her briefly. "Wouldn't be me if I didn't encourage a delusion, though."

"Yeah…" Y/n laughed softly. "It's my first day, of course everyone's already in love with me."

"Exactly."

It was what she loved about Ellie. No matter what, she could make her laugh. Grinning, she watched Kevin bump into Oscar, who immediately collapsed with an exaggerated howl of pain, holding the leg that Kevin hadn't touched. "And they're all so good with kids."

"Total dad material, every one of them," Ellie agreed. "Not a stepdad, a dad who stepped up."

She choked on a laugh, playfully swatting her friend's arm. Because she knew Logan had overheard them. "Stop—"

"And probably more than willing to crack your back—"

"Oh my god." Clapping a hand over her face, she sensed someone approaching. "I have to work with these people."

"Only until they fuck a baby into you."

"Hey, y/n, your kid's so cool," Logan said.

Her face burned but she slowly pulled her hand away, giving him a weak smile. "Thanks."

He propped his hands on his waist, breathing heavy as he watched Kevin dart between Lando, Oscar, Checo, and Alex. "He always this energetic?"

"Fify-fifty. He's either like this or so quiet I worry he's up to something."

Logan chuckled. "Is he a troublemaker?"

"Nah, if he's quiet it's because he's focused on his cars or studying a bug."

"Christ! Get it away from me!"

Y/n's heart lurched at the sudden shriek from Lando, and she barely saw him sprinting away from her son, who was holding something in his hands.

"It's a frog, mate!" Oscar shouted behind him.

"Don't care!"

Kevin slowly walked over to y/n. "Mama, look!" he said, eyes shining with excitement. His cheeks were a little flushed from the hard play and he was giggling. "Mister Lando scared of a l'il frog."

"He's just not a country boy like you, honey," she soothed. "But maybe we should put the frog somewhere he'll be safe?"

"C'mon, Kev, I'll help you," Logan offered.

"Hmm," Ellie hummed once Logan had scooped Kevin up, cupping one hand over the boy's to keep the frog from jumping away.

"Shut it."

"I didn't say a word."

"Please, that hmm contained at least two paragraphs, ten innuendoes, and a pointed reference," y/n said, trailing behind Logan. Looking on as he set Kevin down near the tree line, she got a few pictures of them releasing the frog. She cringed when her son wiped his dirty hands on his shorts but Logan didn't seem to mind, lifting him up and carrying him back to her.

"He's free!" Kevin squealed. "Thanks, Mister Logan."

"Anytime, Kev." He tousled his curly hair after setting him down, flashing a shy smile at y/n.

She returned the smile, eyes following Kevin as he ran back to the game. "He's gonna pass out as soon as we get back to the hotel."

"He could probably run circles around all of us all night," Logan chuckled.

"True…"

"So like…" He cleared his throat. "Are you married?"

God, she loved Floridians. "No," she answered, turning to look at him. "Are you?"

"God no." He made a face at the thought. "So you're single?"

She nodded, already formulating how she would turn him down if he asked her out. She was too busy. Not interested in anything romantic at the moment. It never hurt to be honest, right? She couldn't lie and say she just had a messy breakup or—

"Would you be interested in – I'm not trying to hook up or anything," he said quickly when she opened her mouth. "Just, like, as a friend? I know how it is to feel like a fish out of water here. I'm kind of used to it but I can remember feeling like I was alone and surrounded by people who didn't understand my Americanisms."

"Oh." Aw. Damn it, she couldn't say no to that. "I… Yeah, sure, I'd like that."

He smiled. "Awesome. Maybe we can do something tomorrow after practice?" he suggested.

"Sure, sounds great. Text me?" she requested. Her phone alarm started going off and she pulled it out to silence it. "I gotta go. I'll see you later."

She waved to Ellie and mimed that she had to get some work done, waiting for her friend to wave back before making her way to the garage. While walking she got a message from one of the mechanics that the cars were photo ready and quickened her pace, envisioning the photos she would get of the mechanics and engineers. As she worked she asked questions, truly interested in what everyone did, a small idea forming that she'd run by Mr. Horner later. She knew that she would enjoy mini profiles on the team, with just the most basic of information like their names and where they were from. Maybe how long they'd been on the team, what had brought them to formula one…

"Thanks so much guys," she said as she finished up, declining the offer of a cold Red Bull. Her alarm went off again – twenty minutes to get ready to meet Max in the lounge back at the motorhome – and she switched off the camera, waving bye and turning to leave the garage.

She slammed into a human wall, grunting in surprise as she stumbled back. Twice in one day, really? The bump had caused the camera to slam against her ribs and she rubbed the spot gently. "I'm sorry! Wasn't looking where I was going."

She expected a chuckle, a reassurance that it was a hazard of the job. Maybe even an apology in return. Instead, the older man sneered at her, looking her up and down in such a way she felt like a child caught misbehaving. "You need to learn your place."

She gulped, fear prickling through her embarrassment. And even though she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, she found her mouth opening to apologize. "S-sorry."

"Horner know better than to hire amateurs," he muttered, scoffing. "He obviously didn't hire you for your looks."

She bristled at that. "I beg your pardon?"

"As you should." He brushed past her.

She felt weak. Clammy and cold. Shuddering slightly, she swallowed hard and left the garage, heading straight for the motorhome, where she was able to catch her breath. Who the hell had that been? He'd been wearing a Red Bull pass, so he had to be on the team. He was obviously important. She couldn't imagine him being considered her boss, not when everyone else had been so nice and—

"Ah, y/n, are you ready to do the Q and A?" Max asked.

Y/n felt her lungs burn and sucked in a breath, staring at the cup of coffee she'd made herself. "Y-yeah, I'll meet you up on the deck?"

Please go up, please go up, please go—

"What's wrong?"

Goddammit.

"Y/n?" He looked and sounded concerned, and she ducked her head as he walked over. "Hey…"

"I'm fine," she lied.

"You're a terrible liar," he said, leaning against the counter. "What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm just overreacting." Rubbing her hand over her face, she shook her head and reached for the coffee. "Just a run-in with an asshole."

"But I haven't seen you in three hours." Max's lips barely twitched at the corner.

"Not you, a different asshole." She felt her cheeks burn and groaned. "I'm not saying you're an asshole!"

"You don't have to, I already know I can be an asshole at times." Folding his arms over his chest, he met her eyes. "Who was it?"

"That's the thing, I don't even know. I was coming out of the garage – You know, I went down to get pics of the mechanics? Anyway, I was about to text you about the Q and A and wasn't looking where I was going and bumped into him."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Older, kinda tall? Sour faced." She raised a hand to the man's approximate height. "I apologized and he told me I need to learn my place, then said I was an amateur and Horner obviously didn't hire me for my looks – I didn't ask his name because I was in shock. All I know is he had a Red Bull pass."

Max's brow furrowed, and she felt him tense. Then, to her surprise, he described the man perfectly.

"Yeah, that's him." She bit her lip. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately," he muttered. "It's my dad."

"Oh." Y/n looked down at her coffee. "Sorry."

"Me too." He sighed, pushing away from the counter. "Don't listen to him, yeah? You have more right to be here than he does, and you're not an amateur. As much as I hate social media, even I can tell that you're excellent at your job."

"Thank you," she whispered. "I just… I've spent my entire adult life working to improve myself and discover my own worth as a human being, and I can give other women empowering pep talks, but I still freeze when a man that thinks he's better than me talks down to me."

"Fuck him," Max said simply. "He's not your boss, he can't control anything you do in your life."

"Either you're really trying to make me feel better or you really don't like your dad," she murmured. When he didn't reply, she slowly lifted her gaze. Seeing the muscle in his jaw twitch, she felt a pang of sympathy. If the man had been that rude to her, a stranger, she couldn't begin to imagine what he'd been like to his own son.

"If he speaks to you like that again, you let me know."

"I don't want to cause a fuss—"

"Not wanting to cause a fuss is why he thinks he can get away with it," Max pointed out. "I'll speak to Christian—"

"Max, no, it's literally my first week!"

"Which is why you have to set boundaries now. He'll either treat you with the respect you deserve or he'll be banned from the paddock."

Y/n blinked in shock. "You'd have him banned?"

"In a heartbeat." The look on his face told her he was serious, from the determined set of his jaw to the way he kept his eyes level with hers. "So either you mention it to Christian in the team meeting or I will."

"God," she groaned, knowing that this had to be just one tiny item among a long list of infractions for Max to want him banned. "Okay. I'll tell him before the team meeting tomorrow."

"Good. Come, let's do the Q and A. You ready?" he asked, taking her empty cup and throwing it away.

"Yeah." Grateful for the distraction, she walked to the stairs with him. "I did a clip of you looking confused and posted it on TikTok and Instagram that went viral because I captioned it When You Ask Max Verstappen About Anything But Racing. Oh and I found out Tumblr fans love making gifs of you laughing. Twitter likes making memes out of your face. Whereas Facebook is mostly a bunch of boomers commenting about how I'm ruining the integrity of the sport."

"I really do hate social media," he snorted.

"And that is why I'm doing social media," she teased. Halfway up the stairs, she slowed, turning to look at him. "Thank you, Max."

"For hating social media? You're welcome."

taglist

@spookystitchery | @halleest | @lyannesworld | @llando4norris

[am-i-interrupting]

hazbin hotel with a reader with an American accent. not like a light one but like literally thick southern accent and they grew up in the south

Alastor

When he first heard you spoke, his head cocked to the side and his smile widened.

You wouldn’t find out why until much later when he trusted you enough to actually be. . . vulnerable.

Alastor liked listening to you talk.

It reminded him of when he was alive. The thrill of the first man who begged for his life at Alastor’s hands, his mother’s voice singing as she cooked, the chatter of people in speakeasies.

He grew up a southern boy, after all.

It comforted him.

Some days, if things have been particularly unpleasant, he might even just sit next to you and ask you questions about topics he knows you’re passionate about just to hear your voice.

One day though, in private, you hear his voice slip into something resembling a thick southern accent rather like your own but different.

He quickly rectifies it but maybe he’ll start being more loose with his stage persona around you and let his true self show.

Vaggie

Vaggie didn’t explore Heaven when she was there. She main trained and focused on work, spending time with other exorcists.

You were probably the first person with a southern accent she met.

Depending on how thick and strong your accent is as well as how many southern-specific words you use, she might need just a bit of help understanding you.

I imagine you’d have to repeat things several times when you first met her.

She will try to mimic your accent.

It’s not out of mockery, she just wants to figure out how things flow off your tongue.

Her attempts are atrocious but adorable.

Vox

Vox’s whole image is perfection. Falling for someone with a thick southern accent would be something seeing as certain stereotypes exist.

He loves your accent and will get in a fist fight with anyone who says something snarky about it.

He has a file of audio samples that are just your voice as your ramble on about things he puts on as background noise when he’s stressed.

Would probably try to encourage you to start a podcast so he can have more samples of your voice.

He absolutely adores the way that you pronounce his name.

Absolutely a slut for a good southern drawl.

Getting a little NSFW, if you say any form of “god” “lord” or “holy (fill in the blank)” paired with the accent, it makes him feel like he’s defiling a church goer even if you’ve never been very praising of god and he loves that.

Definitely calls you “bell” because you’re his southern bell.

[hippiegoth97]

Roam Pt.1: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by me :)

Master List

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafescurtainbangz @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @usergeta @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n

Description: The year is 1991, and your husband Eddie and his band Corroded Coffin is on an international tour for their first major album. You're traveling with the band in their private jet. On a flight between tour stops, Eddie's fear of flying leads to some interesting events...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, rockstar!eddie munson, female reader, drug use, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, mentions of fear/anxiety about flying

Word Count: 3.7k

divider by @strangergraphics

Roam Pt. 1

Good Evening, I'm Kurt Loder for MTV News, bringing you the latest in music entertainment. Tonight, breakout metal band Corroded Coffin are in the midst of a headlining world tour for their smash hit album, Hellfire Rising. So far, they've completed their North and South American legs of the tour and are head-banging their way through Europe. The band caught their big break in 1989, signing with Megaforce Records to produce their debut album. Given their meager beginnings in the town of Hawkins, Indiana, the band has remained humble as they reap the benefits of success. Here we have a clip of their notorious front-man Eddie Munson, describing how the band has taken to their newfound fame.

Interviewer: How are you and the band handling being one of the biggest metal bands right now?

Munson: Ya know, nothing really feels all that different than when we were a local band of nobodies. We just like makin' the music and being a voice for the freaks. And I've got my lovely wife Y/N to thank for helpin' me stay grounded, she knows how to bust my balls just enough to keep me in line. [Laughs]

Interviewer: Sounds like you're a very lucky man, Mr. Munson.

Munson: Oh, please. Call me Eddie, I'm a Rockstar, not a stock broker. [Laughs again] But yeah, I truly am. She's the greatest woman in the world, we wouldn't be here without her encouragement and support. Aw, look man, I gotta get goin'. Goodbye, England and next stop, Germany! [Sticks out tongue while making rocker devil horns]

Well, he certainly is a lively character. Be sure to look out for their upcoming sophomore album, Freaks Only, releasing next spring. I'm Kurt Loder, and this has been MTV News. Coming up next, a solid hour block of your favorite music videos of the summer. Good night.

You click off the TV, tossing the remote beside you on the sofa. "You look so sexy on TV, baby." You say to Eddie, sitting sideways on his lap as you and the band watched the special newscast together on their private jet.

"Oh, really? Better than the real thing, dollface?" Eddie asks teasingly, his hands resting on your hip and thigh.

"Mmm, never." You reply in a sultry tone, leaning in for a kiss. He happily meets you halfway, the hand on your hip migrating to your ass. He squeezes the flesh roughly, making you moan.

"God, you guys need to get a room." Gareth says, rolling his eyes in his chair. The other members mumble their agreement.

"Alright, we'll turn down the heat for your sake, hm?" You break away, leaving Eddie's lap to snort a line of coke from the coffee table in front of you. You inhale it, sniffing harshly. You lazily slump back against the couch, taking Eddie's hand in yours.

"You know, you could've at least mentioned us, Eddie. We are the actual band, after all. All you talked about was Y/N." Jeff pipes up, crossing his arms in frustration.

"Guys, you know how much I value you as equal members of the band. And it's MTV, dude. They catch you off guard and take a small soundbite, you know? Besides, we've all been equally featured in magazine interviews and sit-down talk shows. You guys are my friends, and my brothers. You mean the world to me, we've been playing together since we were kids." Eddie replies, trying to calm the brewing storm.

"You guys are just jealous that the media favors the front-man. It's not Eddie's fault. You think I pitch a fit every time some female fans get a little too bold with him? No, because I know I'm what's important to him, not some slutty groupies. Just like how you all matter more than a fuckin' MTV ambush." You don't mean to overstep, but you wish the guys would chill out a little.

"When we want your opinion, Yoko, we'll ask for it." Alex retorts. You just scoff.

"Oh, real original, man. I'm the wife, so I'm ruining the band. Jesus, guys. You realize you're like family to me, right? Like Eddie said, brothers. I'm just trying to explain why things seem one-sided. You're a band, a team. You think Metallica bickers the way you do? I don't think they'd be half as successful as they are if they did." It may be the coke talking, but you feel like a valid voice of reason for the group, always settling their little squabbles. Despite being grown adults, they still act like little boys at times.

"That's enough, out of all of you. Please, let's not ruin the buzz we have going from how kickass tonight's show was, hm? We're gonna take off soon, so get settled in. Come on, Y/N." Eddie stands, calling the bitchfest to a close and dragging you to the private bedroom at the back of the jet. "Night, guys." He says with a sigh, shaking his head.

"Night, dickhead." The boys call to him.

"Ha ha, very funny." He shouts back, opening the door to your room. You walk past him, sitting on the bed. Eddie closes the door, clicking the lock. The room is pretty eclectic, there's a bed with black silk sheets, a mini fridge, and a small bathroom. There's a large mirror on the ceiling, the walls are painted a deep red, and plush shag carpet covers the floor. Eddie had been very particular about how he wanted the bedroom on the Corroded Coffin jet to look. It's your safe place that you share together, away from the others. Before heading on tour, Eddie had struggled with a fear of flying. Going to LA to sign a record deal and work on the album took a toll on him. And for the first couple legs of the tour he needed to be sedated before each flight. But lately he's calmed down about it, though takeoff and landing still give him major anxiety.

"You alright, baby? How 'bout you come get buckled in with me?" You smirk at him, getting under the covers to fasten your seat belt that Eddie had built into the mattress.

"You could stand to butt out every once in a while, Y/N." He says in annoyance, climbing into bed next to you.

"I'm just trying-"

"Yeah, I know, you're just trying to help. I get that we've all known each other since we were in middle school and everything. But you're not in the band, okay? If we're having a problem, just let us handle it." You're about to protest, but he puts a hand up to stop you. "I appreciate your concern, babydoll. Really, you know I value your opinion over anyone else's, okay? But you don't need to be such a backseat driver." He takes your hand in his, kissing it gently. "I love you, angel. Can you just take a step back, for me?" He pleads with his big brown eyes, you can never say no when he uses them on you.

"Alright, Eddie. I'll let the band handle the band's problems. And I love you too, babe." You kiss his cheek, laying your head on his shoulder as the plane begins to take off. Eddie holds you close, tensing at every movement the jet makes as it ascends into the air. "It's okay, love. I'm right here, and we're buckled in safe." You look at him, trying your best to keep him relaxed.

"I know, I'm a lot better than I used to be. Just hate how shaky getting in and out of the damn air is." He always gets a little pissy when he's scared, but you've always found it endearing. "Maybe if I had a distraction, I might be able to ignore how awful this is?" You're unsure what he's referring to.

"And what did you have in mind, baby?" You ask coyly, hoping he means what you think he does.

"Well...we could, you know..." He gulps, unable to form full thoughts as his fears of falling from the sky take hold. You decide to take charge, placing your hand under the covers to ghost over his cock. He moans, eyes boring into yours.

"Is this what you were thinking of, sweetheart?" You play innocent, teasing him. He just nods, still stiffened up with stress. "Okay, baby. I'll take care of you. Can you lay down for me?" He does as you ask, occasionally trembling like a leaf. "It's okay, I'm gonna make it all better." You grip his length through his tight jeans, causing him to groan. You palm him through the material, winding him up. He gazes at you, panting in anticipation.

"More, please." He manages to say, almost whining. You heed his request, unbuckling his belt and unzipping the fly of his pants. He kicks off his sneakers, helping you pull his jeans down. Eddie pulls his muscle tee off as well, revealing his chest to you. He's only in his boxers now, and your hand grips him again through the thin fabric.

You take a moment to gaze over his form, comparing how he looks now to your high school days. He still has the long hair, and his clothes have stayed the same for the most part. But he's gotten a few more tattoos in recent years, one of which is your initials on his V-line. You have his tatted on your hip, so you always remember that you belong to each other. He also wears eyeliner now, which is very sexy, and has his ears and nose pierced. He convinced you to let him grow a goatee and mustache once, but it didn't really suit him so he thankfully shaved them off. It's crazy to look back on the years gone by, you never thought you'd see Eddie's wildest dreams come true. But you've been by his side from the beginning, and you intend to stay here until the very end. He and the guys worked so hard to get here, you couldn't be more proud. And now you've got him moaning in your grasp, in your bed, in your special room, on your private jet. The mere concept of that blows your goddamn mind every time. "I'm the luckiest woman in the world, you know that?" You say, looking deep into his eyes.

"Is that so? I suppose that makes me an even luckier man then." Eddie breathes heavily, begging with his eyes for you to remove his final layer and touch him fully. You appease him, leaving him naked inside his seat belt. His cock stands at attention, the head swollen and leaking precum. You lean over it, letting a drip of spit slowly fall from your lips onto it. Eddie stares at you, enraptured by every move you make. You spread the saliva around his head, rubbing it down his length. "Fuck, Y/N." He moans, his hand squeezing your thigh.

The pilot suddenly speaks through the intercom. "Evening, everyone. Just letting you know we've reached a comfortable cruising altitude, and the skies look nice and clear for our journey tonight. You're all set to move freely in the jet." The speaker clicks as he concludes his announcement.

"Perfect timing." Eddie says, quickly unbuckling your safety belts before pouncing on you. He smashes his lips on yours, hungrily sliding his tongue in your mouth. You moan into the kiss, gripping the sides of his face. He gropes your tits over your shirt, squeezing roughly as he lays over you. His mouth releases yours, migrating down your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

"Someone's needy." You quip, running your fingers through Eddie's hair. You drag your nails around his scalp, and he groans against your throat. He bites down on your flesh, sucking it into a deep purple hickey. You love it when he marks you, letting everyone know that you’re his. "Oh, Eddie." You moan, arousal spreading in your panties.

"I fuckin' love you so much." He says breathily, cupping your cheek as he gazes down at you.

"I love you too, my sexy Rockstar." You smirk, boldly gripping his cock in your hand again.

"Shit, Y/N." He groans at your touch, desperate to be inside you. "We gotta get you out of these clothes." He pulls at the hem of your shirt, and you sit up to lift it over your head. Eddie immediately reaches behind you to remove your bra, exposing your breasts to the cool air. You expect him to start massaging them in his hands, but he instead starts unbuttoning your leather pants. He pulls them down harshly, along with your lace panties. You lay down on the pillows, completely bare to him. He sits on his knees as his eyes scan over you, drinking in your beautiful form. "You're so gorgeous, love. And you're all mine."

"All yours, baby." You reply, giggling from his words making you blush. Even after all these years, you still feel so strongly for each other. He smirks at you, playfully grabbing your left foot. He kisses the bottom of it, and you try not to react to how it tickles. His lips move upwards, meeting every inch of skin he can. He crawls slowly towards you as he kisses your ankle, your knee, until he reaches your inner thigh. You sigh out at how soft his plush mouth is against your skin, your insides setting aflame. He's about to reach your dripping cunt, when he backs off to repeat his actions on your other leg.

Eddie's eyes never leave yours as he works, letting you know how much he worships you as his true love. He creeps up your other leg, reaching your thigh again. He glances at your glistening pussy, his smile growing wider. "You're so wet for me, angel. You want me to taste you?" His breath fans over you, whispering across your clit. He massages your thighs with his hands, tentatively waiting for your answer.

"Yes, please. Show me how much you love me, darling." He doesn't waste a single second before diving between your legs. His tongue licks a long, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your bundle of nerves. "Oh, God." Your hands ball up the sheets beneath you, pleasure already beginning to take hold. Eddie's a master at eating out, always knowing exactly how to please you. His tongue is possibly as well-trained a muscle as his musician fingers, he doesn't stick it out at all opportunities for nothing.

"Mmm, you taste so good, sweetheart." He says, quickly resuming his work on you. He licks you relentlessly, flicking his tongue against your clit and inserting himself into your soaked hole. You moan his name repeatedly, feeling your orgasm building like a knot in your belly. His fingers replace his tongue inside you, curling to hit your g-spot expertly. He pumps his digits in and out, sucking harshly on your clit. He wants to feel you cum around him, to scream his name as pleasure takes you over.

"Fuck, Eddie. Don't stop, right there! Just like that, make me cum." You cry out, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold his face against your core. He hums against you when you tug on him, the vibrations sending you further toward the edge. He maintains his pace, wet noises harmonizing with your moans. Waves of pleasure roll over you, signaling your oncoming release. You gaze up at the ceiling, watching your reflection in the mirror. Your skin is glistening with sweat, your mouth agape as curses and cries of passion tumble from your lips. It's intoxicating to watch yourself lose control, seeing Eddie's mop of curls situated between your legs. You look at the flexing muscles in his back and shoulders, and admire his perfect ass.

Eddie hums against you again, pumping his fingers faster into your pussy. You scream his name as your orgasm rips through you, your thighs clamping around his head. Fireworks explode inside your stomach, showering sparks throughout your body. He drinks up your juices, extending your high. Stars blur your vision, and your hips buck against Eddie's face. He's struggling to breathe, but he lets you ride out your orgasm. The bliss dissipates, your body going limp and releasing your husband from your grasp. "Jesus, Y/N. That was so fuckin' hot. Almost suffocated me, but I'd happily die buried between your thighs." He pants, marveling at your fucked out expression.

"I'll make a note to sit on your face on your deathbed then." You joke, making the both of you laugh lightly. Eddie lays over you again, kissing your lips repeatedly. His cock slides against your slick folds, making the two of you moan into each other's mouths as your lips smack together. He continues to rub himself against you, teasing and riling you up again. Your blood is boiling inside you, you can't wait any longer for Eddie to fuck you. "Baby, please don't tease." You whine between kisses, urging him to give you what you want. He rolls you both over so you're on top, breaking his lips away from yours.

"Go ahead and ride me, darling." He grips your hips roughly, his rings digging into your flesh. You sit upright, taking Eddie's dick in your hand. You pump him a few times, lifting yourself on your knees. He moans at your touch, boring his eyes into yours. "Now who's being a tease?" He asks breathily, and you smirk before sinking onto his length. He fills you up perfectly, brushing against your g spot. The air is knocked out of your lungs, and you take a moment to adjust to his size.

Once you're ready, you slowly lift yourself up and fall back down onto Eddie's cock. "Fuck." You mutter, relishing the sensation. You repeat this action a few times, drawing lewd moans from the both of you. You place your hands on his chest, beginning to bounce up and down against him. His hands guide you to hit your sweet spot every single time, your head falling backwards in ecstasy.

"God, you're so beautiful like this, angel. And so fuckin' wet and tight for me." He meets your bounces with the occasional thrust upwards, making your breath catch in your throat. Your velvet walls hug his dick perfectly, it's like you're made just for him. He'll never get enough of you, he always wants to be balls deep inside you and making you scream.

You roll your hips, setting a new angle for yourself that manages to feel even better. A second orgasm is simmering inside you, building and building as you keep up your rhythm. You can't stop moaning, calling Eddie's name like he's a deity you're praying to. He's just as vocal as you, which you've always found extremely hot. He's not afraid to express himself with you, in bed or otherwise. This moment is so perfect, you never want it to end. "You feel so good inside me, Eds. Only you can make me feel this way." Your dirty confessions spur him on, he hammers up into you even more as you continue to ride him.

You're chasing each other's highs at this point, desperate to send yourselves over the edge. Your skin is slicked in sweat, making your bodies slippery. Your lustful noises blend together with the slapping of skin. When you least expect it, the plane hits some minor turbulence. Your stomachs drop as the jet dips in the sky, and you catch a bit of air before landing on Eddie's cock deeper and harder than you ever have before. You both shout obscenities at the sensation, half-wishing it would happen again. "You getting close, baby?" Eddie asks, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he lowers a hand between your legs to rub your clit with his thumb. You moan at the added stimulation, moving your hips even faster. You want to cum so badly, your bliss is threatening to boil over any second.

"Yes, love. So fucking close, make me cum." Your eyes meet his, burning with intense passion. The look on his face tells you he's just as close to the edge as you are, sweat drips down his cheek, and his eyebrows are knitted together. He rubs your clit harder, watching your eyes screw shut as you're overtaken by your orgasm. "Oh, Eddie!" You scream, legs shaking uncontrollably. Eddie moves his hand away, grabbing your hips again to pound upwards into you to reach his own finish line.

You keep moaning consistently as his thrusts prolong your pleasure, your mouth hangs slack to release the noises. You see stars once more, they swirl around in your vision as your arousal drips down Eddie's cock. You throw your head backwards again, tears streaming down your cheeks from overstimulation. He looks at the scene before him in the reflection of the mirror above you, watching himself fuck you relentlessly is what makes him lose control. "Fuck, Y/N." He chokes out, his warm load spilling into your spent cunt. His strokes slow down to a gradual halt, and you collapse onto his chest. You're almost gasping for air, your pussy clenching his length as your high subsides.

Eddie wraps his arms around you as you both try to steady your breaths. You lay on his chest, listening to his racing heart as his dick softens inside you. It's so comfortable and warm to lay with him like this, to be so close to another person is an amazing thing. You carefully lift yourself off of him, your mixed release dripping onto Eddie's stomach. You moan at the sight, quickly running to your bathroom to grab a damp washcloth to clean him off. Once he's no longer sticky, you put the cloth back in the bathroom and shut off the light before climbing back into bed. Eddie tugs the covers over the two of you, pulling you close to lay your head on his chest. "I love you so much, babe. You're the best husband a woman could ask for." You nuzzle his neck, playing with the small tuft of hair on his chest.

"And you're the world's greatest wife, angel. I love you to the ends of the universe and back." You lift your face up to give him a deep, warm kiss. He happily returns it, your hearts swelling with sheer love and adoration for one another. You pull away, failing to fight back a yawn. You lay back down, your eyes fluttering closed as you drift into a deep sleep.

To be continued…

[shellbilee]

Hello fellow Aussie! 🇦🇺❤️

It’s my birthday today and I was wondering if I could put in a request for a Glen Powell fic?

Maybe they’ve been doing long distance for a while (they met when she was in the US from Australia for a holiday) and Glen decides to surprise her with him turning up at her door for her birthday or something?

If you can’t..it’s all good 😊

Have a good night! 😁

I am a week late, but happy birthday Queen! I hope you had the greatest day and got absolutely spoilt rotten.

Apologies to all my Hey There Darlin' readers, the next chapter update was delayed because I wanted to put this together for my favourite fellow Aussie. (Next chapter will be up ASAP).

So here's my little gift to you @queenslandlover-93, which would never be enough to thank you for all of your constant support on my work. Much love to you sweets!🩵

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One Afternoon in Austin

A Glen Powell RPF One Shot Pairing: Glen Powell x Reader Words: 5.5K

You glance down at your phone for the hundredth time, inhaling a long breath when you see no new notifications on the screen.

You sigh, lips stretching into a somber smile at the sight of your two smiling faces pictured on your home screen.

God you missed him.

It had been 18 whole hours since you'd spoken to Glen - not since he'd face timed you at 12.01am, determined to be the first to wish you a happy birthday. You'd answered within three rings, feeling your whole body warm when his gorgeous face appeared on the screen, teeth flashing in the effortlessly handsome, all-American smile that you loved so much. 

Glen.

Even ten months later, you still hadn't quite gotten used to the fact that you were dating Glen Powell, and if you were being honest, you weren’t sure you ever would.  If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be in a serious relationship with one of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors, you'd have snorted and laughed out loud. 

You'd met Glen when you were solo traveling through the USA last June. You'd been about halfway through your twelve week trip, having started high on the west coast and working your way down South and across, making it to Texas. The plan had been to spend a few days there, first in Austin, then Houston and a couple of other places, before moving onto Louisiana to New Orleans.

Two days into your Austin visit - staying in a modern little air BnB not far from the city, you'd been coming back from a run through the suburbs when you'd come across a little tan and white dog standing alone on the sidewalk. You remembered stopping and looking around, waiting to see if anyone would appear, hoping that someone was walking their dog off lead and hadn't caught up yet. No one appeared to be out searching for it, the surrounding houses seemingly quiet.

You'd knelt down and whistled for the dog, smiling when it wandered over to you immediately, tail wagging and panting happily. You'd cooed at the tiny animal, patting its fluffy head, sitting down on the grass beside it so you could get a better view of its collar.

The dog's name had turned out to be Brisket, a fact you'd found both adorable and amusing, flipping over the metallic name tag to find a phone number engraved on the other side. Deciding that Brisket must have wandered out of his yard and was now lost, you'd picked up the tiny dog and walked the rest of the distance home to your air BnB. Letting Brisket out into your yard, you’d gotten him some water and set about calling the number from his name tag, sitting down on the back porch next to him as you’d listened to the phone ring. 

The phone had ended up ringing through to voicemail, and you’d soon discovered that Brisket’s owner was a man named Glen with a deep Texan accent. You still remembered smiling at the sound of his voice, some part of you internally swooning as you listened to him tell you to leave a message after the tone.

You’d left a quick message, telling him your name and how you’d found Brisket, and that you’d brought him home with you to get him out of the afternoon heat. You’d sent a quick text as well, detailing the same, in case he was otherwise indisposed and unable to take a call. 

Fifteen minutes later you’d been relaxing on the backyard grass with a trashy romance novel, Brisket snoozing peacefully by your side, when your phone had started ringing. Immediately recognising the number as Glen, you’d answered, not at all surprised to hear a panicked voice greeting you instead of the calm, easy going one that had spoken to you in a voicemail.

You’d reassured him that Brisket was fine, healthy and laying happily by your side, explaining that you didn’t have a car, but that you could get an uber to wherever he needed. Glen had offered to come to you but you’d politely declined, not entirely comfortable with giving your address to a stranger when you were traveling solo, instead asking where he was and insisting that you’d go to him. You’d soon discovered on your maps that he was only a ten minute drive from your air BnB, promising that you’d be there soon and that he had no reason to worry about Brisket as he’d thanked you profusely. 

Exactly twenty-three minutes later your Uber had arrived at what you could only describe as a modern Texas mansion, and you remembered the way your jaw had instantly dropped as your eyes had run over the sheer expanse of the property. Telling the Uber driver to stay put, you’d lifted Brisket into your arms and made your way up the palatial driveway, feeling the beginnings of sweat at the back of your neck from the hot Summer afternoon as you’d knocked on the enormous wooden door. 

The Texan royalty, as it turns out, was Glen Powell.

You remembered eyeing off the huge black Ram in the driveway, an expensive black SUV and a smaller white BMW next to it, deciding that you must have stumbled onto some kind of Texan royalty judging by the house and cars in front of you. You’d chuckled to yourself at the thought just as you’d heard the sound of the front door opening, turning around to find a sight that you’d not at all been prepared for.

You’d tried your best not to stumble over your words, certain you looked like a gaping goldfish as you'd introduced yourself and passed a happily wrigging Brisket over to him, thankful for your sunglasses as you’d looked back at him. You remembered thinking that he somehow looked even more handsome in person than he did on screen - a fact that you didn’t think was at all possible, assuring him that it was no problem when he’d thanked you again for finding Brisket. It had taken everything you had not to audibly moan at the sight of him, hoping that your blatant staring wasn’t totally obvious as you took in his stubbled beard and effortlessly charming smile, golden tanned skin and thick, muscled arms.

God.

What you hadn’t known, and would eventually discover weeks later, was that Glen was just as shocked to find you when he had opened his front door - a gorgeous young woman standing alone with a smile that had quite literally stopped him in his tracks and left him momentarily lost for words.

He’d thanked you again and you’d promised him that it was really no issue at all, offering a small wave as you’d turned to make your way back to your waiting Uber. Just when you'd been thinking that meeting Glen Powell had to be the highlight of your trip, you'd heard Glen call out your name and tell you to wait. You remembered turning around to face him then, only to find him taking a step towards you with Brisket still in his arms.

He’d proceeded to ask if you'd wanted to come in for a drink, adding that he had to somehow thank you for finding Brisket. You'd declined of course, reasoning that you had to get back to your Uber - and even now you could still remember the distinct feeling of every single fiber of your body screaming at you to reconsider as Glen continued to insist you stay.

“Please come in?”

He’d asked again, the look on his face making it near impossible to say no, emphasizing that the least he could do was offer you a drink and temporary reprieve from the afternoon heat. You remembered standing there for a moment, seemingly frozen in place, weighing up your potential options.

Get back in the Uber and go back to your air BnB.

Or;

Take up the offer for a drink with one of the most attractive men you’d ever met. 

Thinking back to that moment now, you wondered how you ever possibly considered otherwise.

Giving in to Glen, you'd jogged back to the Uber and thanked him for waiting, telling him he could go before making your way back to Glen at the front door. It was at that moment that you’d felt Glen’s eyes on you - running subtly over your figure, suddenly becoming self conscious that you were still sporting the shorts and tank activewear combo you’d worn on your run earlier. 

On the transcript of your life, this was certainly not the outfit you’d envisioned wearing if you ever came across a gorgeous Hollywood celebrity.

Anyway.

He’d invited you in and you’d accepted gratefully, instantly thankful for the cool of the air conditioner as you followed him down the enormous hallway. He’d since put Brisket down, the tiny dog now happily trotting alongside his owner, the sight making you long for Flynn, your three year old Australian Shepherd dog back home.  

The sound of voices at the end of the hallway made you stop in your tracks, Glen turning around and looking back at you concerned. You’d stammered wide eyed, telling him you didn’t want to interrupt if he had people over, instantly feeling like an intruder despite Glen’s genuine insistence that you weren’t. He’d stepped towards you then - close enough that you remembered the exact moment the scent of his sweet cologne hit you, his sage green eyes looking back at you earnestly and promising that you weren’t interrupting, that it was just his family that was over for a barbecue.

That new information had sent an instant tidal wave of nervousness crashing down your spine, your heartbeat immediately heavy in your ears. Now not only were you being invited into Glen Powell’s home, you were also seconds away from spontaneously meeting his family. 

Fuck.

You remembered laughing then - a short, giddy bubble of laughter, Glen’s face splitting into a smile as you did so. Your laugh had been one of incredulousness, your brain unable to fathom the situation that you were currently in.

Of all the things you’d imagined you’d do whilst on your solo travels, this was most certainly not one of them.

Glen had gestured with his hand for you to follow him and somehow your frozen feet were able to oblige, the hallway opening up into an expansive open kitchen and living area, complete with enormous glass french doors that opened onto a luxury deck and pool outside. 

You remembered not knowing where to look first - at the enormous turquoise pool, or the insanely stunning view of rolling hills and a lake behind it, the luxury styled interior of the house or the adorable little blonde girl in her swimmers that was staring curiously at you from the back doorway.

Almost immediately she’d spoken, pointing and asking her uncle Glen very loudly who you were, her voice making the rest of the people outside stop and look inside. You remembered your face flaming then, embarrassment flushing your skin as you'd fought the urge to sprint back towards the front door.

You didn’t have a fear of public speaking but in that moment it felt like you had spontaneously developed one.

Glen had informed his niece - who you’d soon discovered was named Gwen, of your name and explained that you were the girl that had found Brisket and brought him home, an older lady suddenly appearing from somewhere inside the house and clapping her hands happily when she’d spied Brisket at Glen’s feet.

As it turned out, it was Lauren’s and Will’s house - Glen’s sister and brother in law, and Witt, their son and twin brother of Gwen, had accidentally opened the back gate and Brisket had wandered out, unbeknownst to everyone at the barbecue. Glen, who had just finished grilling had whistled for Brisket to offer him a cut off of steak, only to find that Brisket had gone missing and that the back gate was open. Just as everyone had scrambled to find keys to go out and look for him, Glen had picked up his phone and seen the text from you, prompting everyone to relax knowing that Brisket was safe.

The lady had turned out to be Glen’s mother Cindy, Glen immediately introducing the two of you as she offered her own thanks for finding Brisket before pulling you in for a hug.The gesture had taken you by surprise but offered a surprising amount of comfort, the nervousness that had your knees threatening to give way slowly easing.

Fifteen minutes later, you’d been introduced to the entire Powell family and were seated on an outdoor lounge by the pool next to Glen’s younger sister Leslie, wine in hand and nominated an additional judge of the pool diving contest between Gwen, Witt and their dad Will. You’d clapped and laughed your way through it, thankful for your sunglasses for the second time in less than twenty minutes when Glen had taken his shirt off and joined as a fourth participant in the contest. 

God.

You remembered biting the inside of your cheek so hard you’d drawn blood, using every ounce of strength you had to look away when Glen had emerged from the pool, water droplets sliding down his golden, muscled form. 

Later you'd found yourself sitting and talking with Glen’s other sister Lauren and his dad Glen Senior, telling them all about your trip in the US so far and how you’d come to find yourself in Texas. They in turn had asked you about yourself and you’d shared about your home back in Australia, your job, Flynn and your family, Glen coming to join at some point later sitting down on the lounge beside you with a drink refill.

You’d talked and laughed with the Powell’s for the rest of the afternoon, all of your nerves from earlier having seemingly disappeared. It was like you’d known them all for months rather than only an hour, feeling right at home with the bubbly, extraverted, Texan family. They’d asked you about your plans for the remainder of the trip, offering their own tips and recommendations for the rest of your time in Texas which you’d accepted gratefully, making mental notes to adjust your itinerary.

Eventually the afternoon had faded into early evening, Glen Senior and Cindy saying their goodbyes and wishing you all the best for the rest of your trip, Leslie following suit soon after and making you promise that you’d say goodbye before you left Texas. 

You’d grabbed your bag announcing that you should probably get home too, Glen interrupting and insisting that he’d take you on his way back home. You knew better than to decline his offer, concluding that based on the day you’d had there was no reasoning with him. You’d said your goodbyes to Lauren and Will, thanking them for their hospitality for the afternoon, comforting Gwen with a hug when she’d gotten teary at you leaving - the two of you having bonded earlier when you’d told her that her diving was as good as a dolphin's and she’d told you that they were her favourite animal. 

Glen had driven you home then, the two of you settling into a comfortable silence, Brisket snoozing peacefully on your lap in the passenger seat. Pulling up to your air BnB, Glen had asked what your plans were for tomorrow and you’d informed him that you hadn’t quite decided yet - but you were tossing up between going out to see Lake Travis, or heading out into the hills to visit the country sights. 

Flashing you a smile that had made you momentarily lose your train of thought, Glen had offered you an alternative option - let him take you out for the day to show you a side of Austin from a local’s point of view. You remembered staring back at him then, your brain trying to ascertain whether or not you were dreaming that Glen Powell had just asked you to spend the day with him, looking at his perfectly handsome face and uttering an animated yes to his proposal.

He'd kissed you on the cheek and wished you a goodnight, telling you that he’d pick you up at ten AM before thanking you again for finding Brisket. You’d laughed and assured him for the tenth time that day that it was really no problem, thanking him for having you today and saying your own goodbye. He’d waited until you’d unlocked the door of your air BnB and you’d waved as you’d walked inside, your cheeks hurting from smiling as you’d closed the door behind you and leaned back against the wood.

Unbeknownst to you, the plans for the rest of your solo USA trip were about to be turned completely upside down. 

The next day with Glen turned out to be everything you’d imagined and more, the two of you talking, flirting and laughing from the moment he’d picked you up. He’d started the day by driving the two of you out to Lake Travis where you’d spent the morning stand up paddleboarding, Glen showing you his favourite spots on the lake and telling you about his family’s lakeside ranch a few hours out of Austin. Next was lunch from what Glen had promised was ‘the best Texan barbecue house’ in all of Texas, ordering his favourite steak sandwiches which quickly became the best meal you’d eaten on your trip so far.

After lunch he’d taken you on a hike through one of Austin’s national parks, the end of which had brought you to one of the most incredible sights you’d ever seen - a waterfall that spilled over a huge bowl-shaped canyon into a large swimming hole below. Glen had convinced you to walk the perimeter through the cave-like canyon until you were standing beneath the falling water, looking up at the natural sight in awe as Glen had snapped several photos of you and then the two of you together.

Looking out at the sunset, sitting beside Glen with his arm around your shoulders, you remembered thinking that this day - a day that would forever go down as one of the best days of your life, couldn’t possibly have gotten any better. 

After your hike he’d taken you over to wine country, where he’d introduced you to his good friends Daniel and Amy - owners of one of the most well-known vineyards and breweries in Fredericksburg. They’d given you a private tour of their venue before you’d sat down for drinks, looking out at the picturesque green vineyard and seemingly endless rolling hills, a stunning Texas sunset bathing everything in a gorgeous, orange glow.

And then, just like that, it had.

Glen had driven you back to your air BnB and you’d promptly invited him for a drink, not quite ready to end your day with him. He’d happily accepted your proposal, parking his truck and following you in, sitting down on the living room couch as you’d gotten you both a beer. 

What followed was an evening of more stories and laughs, more flirting and mischievous teasing, the tension only growing between you as the night went on. Eventually though, as if neither of you could no longer fight it, Glen had leaned in and kissed you, his lips moving against yours with a soft, passionate want.

That passion quickly became tangible, like a craving neither of you could satisfy, lips and hands growing desperate until you’d both lost several items of clothing and Glen was asking where the bedroom was. 

You remembered thinking in that moment - when Glen was carrying you to the bed, his lips pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to the hollow of your throat, that there would be no coming back from this. You’d sleep with Glen Powell, and tomorrow this would become nothing more than a fond memory for the both of you. 

After all, he was a Hollywood celebrity and you weren’t. 

He lived in Texas and you lived in Australia.

It would never work.

And so you’d decided, as Glen had laid you down on the bed and kissed his way down your body, that you’d forget all about tomorrow and just enjoy tonight.

Every single, sweaty second of it.

And all three delicious rounds of it.

When morning had arrived you’d fully expected to wake up to an empty bed, pleasantly surprised to instead find yourself wrapped in Glen's arms, his chest pressed firmly against your back. He'd felt you stirring, pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck, his actions teasing soft moans from you that quickly turned into a tangle of sheets and naked limbs all over again.

What followed was two more days with Glen, the two of you spending almost all of your time together - him showing you all of his favourite things about his hometown, and even catching up with his sister Leslie again when she'd joined you both at a live music night that had ended with the two Powell's introducing you to line dancing. There'd been endless stories and laughs and adorable cuddles with Brisket, constant flirting and stolen kisses, and several more rounds of what had quickly become the best sex you'd ever had.

You'd proceeded to become only more and more infatuated with Glen, even despite the constant nagging feeling in the back of your mind telling you that this would soon all have to come to its inevitable end. You’d known that conversation was coming, like a looming tornado that threatening to destroy your happy bubble with Glen at any moment, and on your last night in Austin as you’d sat on Glen’s couch with Brisket on your lap and wine in hand, it finally happened. 

You’d told him that it was okay, that you had no expectations of him and that you’d known all along that this was only ever going to be a vacation fling, assuring him that you’d loved every single second of your time and adventures together with him. Glen had been silent for a long moment then, looking back at you as he’d sat beside you on the couch with his gorgeous green eyes boring into your own, eventually taking your hand in his and telling you just how wrong you were.

He’d told you that he’d never before met a girl like you.

He'd told you that he’d never felt the way he had about someone he’d known for only three days.

He'd told you that he’d loved every single moment that you’d spent together and that he knew if he didn't tell you how he felt, he'd be forever wondering.

You swore in that moment that you’d forgotten how to breathe, your heart in your throat as you'd realized the implications of what Glen was saying to you.

You remembered wondering if you were really going to do this, if you could actually be in a relationship with Glen - in a relationship that was not only long distance, but also with a famous celebrity. You knew it would turn your world upside down and back to front a million times over, but the longer you’d looked back at Glen, getting lost in the gaze that was seemingly looking right through you, you’d realized that above all else, you were willing to try.

You’d fallen into his arms then, falling into one another over and over again, first on the couch, and then the shower, and then finally in his bed, eventually drifting off to sleep wrapped around one another as the evening ended and morning brought with it the inevitable tomorrow.

The rest of your trip had seemingly flown by, seeing the sights and experiencing the best of New Orleans, Jackson, Memphis and Nashville, making your way north to Boston and later New York where your twelve week trip would come to an end. Though those six weeks couldn’t compare to the time you’d spent with Glen in Austin and you’d missed him terribly, you’d spoken to him almost constantly throughout the rest of your travels - sending photos and videos, texting and face timing, following his advice and recommendations of the best places to go and see. 

What you hadn’t known and would only find out upon checking into your hotel room when you’d arrived in New York, was that Glen had organized to fly up to surprise you. You remembered feeling like you’d won the lottery when the hotel concierge had advised that you’d received a complimentary room upgrade to a suite, and just as you’d thought that your trip couldn’t possibly have wrapped up any better, you’d opened the suite door to find Glen waiting for you.

When you’d finally gotten over the shock of seeing him again, after you’d jumped into his embrace and kissed him with all of the emotions that you’d held in since Austin, Glen had taken you out for a romantic night on the town - and continued to do the same for every night that followed for the rest of your trip.

Eventually your solo travels had come to an end, Glen kissing you tenderly and promising that you’d see each other again soon, holding you tight in his arms as you’d sat outside JFK airport on the day of your flight home. You remembered trying to take in everything about your last few minutes with Glen then - the smell of his cologne, the feel of his lips on your hair, the warmth of his chest as he held you pressed against him, desperate to prolong your last moments together not knowing when you’d next get the chance.

A tender goodbye that you swore you wouldn’t ruin with tears, one final kiss that you’d forever commit to memory and a promise that together you could make this work, you’d waved to Glen and made your way through the departure gates, boarding your flight home to Australia.

The months that followed had given you a new found respect for people in long distance relationships, missing Glen more than you thought possible - even with your constant communication. Some small part of you had expected your relationship to fizzle out a week after you’d arrived home - that your time with Glen would be nothing more than a memory, a story you told people about when they’d ask about your overseas travels, but just as you’d promised on your last day together, you and Glen had made it work.

He’d come to visit you three months after your trip, staying with you for two whole weeks in October. You'd shown him around your city in the same way he’d done with Austin, introducing him to your friends and eventually your family after your sister had all but begged to meet him, your dog Flynn loving Glen just as much as Brisket had you.

Those two weeks had been incredible, and as close to domestic bliss as you'd ever gotten, loving waking up to Glen each morning and falling asleep wrapped in his arms each night. Then there was the sex - both of you obviously desperate to make up for the three months apart, spending the first two days of his visit practically locked inside and christening every surface of your house.

All too soon it was time to say goodbye again, but not before you'd made plans to see each other for Christmas. You'd flown back to the states for the holidays two months later, the Powell family welcoming you back with open arms, Brisket especially happy to see you as he'd happily licked at your face. You’d gotten to experience your first ever Winter Christmas that year holing up at the Powell's family ranch, eating, drinking, dancing and laughing all the way through to New Years Eve, feeling nothing but love as you celebrated with Glen's sisters, parents and the twins.

The rest of that trip had gone by all too quickly, and soon you were saying your teary goodbyes all over again before you’d headed back home to Australia. This time you hadn't been able to plan your next visit with Glen - his latest film projects beginning and finally introducing you to life as a famous actor's girlfriend. You'd found yourself feeling consistently grateful for your job, friends and family then, their presence keeping your mind busy and away from thoughts of Glen’s chaotic schedule and the fact that you had no idea when you'd next get to see him.

It was at the Powell’s annual New Year's Eve party that Glen had told you he loved you, just as the clock had struck midnight and everyone had erupted into cheers of happiness. You remembered that moment vividly, your heart still racing whenever you thought about it, the two of you standing on the edge of the lake as Glen had wrapped you in his arms and kissed you, pulling away just enough so that he could whisper those three perfect words. 

And so, that had brought you all the way to June - nearly five months since you'd last seen him, as Glen had worked insane hours on a four month long shoot for his newest movie. Alongside the Australian Winter, made worse by the fact that you missed your boyfriend more than you'd previously thought possible, June had also brought with it something else seemingly upsetting - your birthday, also known as your thirty second lap around the sun.

Still, your friends had pulled out all the stops to celebrate your day - your three closest girlfriends taking you out on a spa date complete with a full body massage, facial and pedicure, followed by a tasting and lunch at the most stunning of vineyards which had continued well into the early evening. Your boozy, extended lunch had later turned into dinner and cocktails at a rooftop bar in the city, which soon turned into singing and dancing at a nearby karaoke bar despite your vehement protesting.

That's how you'd come to find yourself sitting in the booth with one of your friends, looking down at your notification-less phone as the other two girls performed an intoxicated rendition of It’s Raining Men on stage.

Though the girls had spoiled and pampered you on your day, it hadn't quite been enough to completely take your thoughts off of Glen and that fact that you hadn't heard from him all day. You knew he was busy with his shoot - having since learned that sometimes they could go for several hours at a time, knowing that there were many occasions where he just wasn’t able to have his phone on him in the middle of all the chaos. Still, despite not hearing from him since the early hours of the morning, he'd still somehow managed to spoil you on your birthday - organizing your favourite coffee and breakfast to be delivered to your door this morning, alongside the biggest bunch of stunning red roses that you'd ever seen. 

When you'd arrived at the winery for lunch later there'd been a second bunch of flowers, this one somehow bigger than the last, an exotic mix of eclectic tiger lillies and striking orchids, the colours bold, bright and beautiful. Alongside them had been a note, short and simple in the way that was classically Glen, telling you that he loved you with his whole heart and that he hoped you were having the best day with your friends for your birthday.

You and the girls had called it a night just before midnight, your own tipsy performance of Proud Mary signaling the end of your birthday. You kissed and thanked your girlfriends, incredibly grateful for the three of them in your life, waving goodbye to them in the taxi and making your way inside.

In any other circumstance, Flynn's lack of barking at your arrival would have alerted you to the idea that something was up, but in your several-drinks-too-many state you didn't quite pick up on that. So when you opened the front door to your house and found Glen standing in your kitchen looking back at you with the biggest smile on his face, all you could do was stare back at him momentarily - your brain a whirring mix of alcohol, surprise, overwhelm and love.

Eventually you separated enough that you could ask him what he was doing here and why he hadn't told you, Glen smiling and explaining between kisses that he was never going to not see you for your birthday. As it turned out he had the flight organized weeks ago, and had enlisted your friend's help to keep you busy while he made the long haul flight over, having planned all along to surprise you at the end of the night.

You ran at him then, bounding into his waiting arms and holding onto him with everything you had, burying your face in his neck as he whispered happy birthday baby in your hair. Depositing you on the kitchen bench he'd cupped your face and captured your lips in a tender kiss, both of you pouring all of the thoughts and emotions from your months apart into your intimate embrace.

Just as you launched into your next barrage of questions - about his latest project, about the film shoot, about his family and about Brisket, Glen had tilted your chin and silenced you with a slow, heavy kiss, the action leaving you breathless and momentarily lost for words.

“All of that can wait” Glen breathed, lips hovering over your own as his hand moved into your hair, “We’ll have time for questions later darlin’”.

“Later?” you asked, voice barely louder than a whisper, letting out a shaky breath when his free hand cupped the back of your bare thigh and pulled your body flush against his.

“Later” Glen affirmed, his silky voice low and his Texan accent thick, his intentions instantly clear when he rolled his hips into yours with a breathy, almost desperate groan, “First I’m gonna take you to bed and give my girl a proper happy birthday”.

---

TAG LIST FOR GLEN POWELL FICS:

@angclvings @auntiegigi @friedchips94 @memories-in-bw @maeleelee @jessicab1991 @bellaireland1981 @queenslandlover-93 @itsjustkhaos @kneelforloki @djs8891 @lovemesomevesey @entertainmentgirl80 @buckysteveloki-me @stankface @meldizzzle

[moki-dokie]

rating the birds in my backyard on their tendency towards violence

@luulapants inspired me to make a bird post as well. we should talk about our local dinosaurs more! (not including the same birds from their post we also have here)

great-tailed grackle 7/10 physical violence is not how you guys operate. you wage mental warfare with a barrage of unending noises on the most annoying frequency imaginable to man. also some of you have mastered mimicry in the wild and this is simply too much power for a beast like you to wield. (similar to the common grackle but infinitely more annoying)

american kestrel 3/10 she's beauty, she's grace, she'll smack an eagle in the face. fearless and skilled little predator that delights me every time i get to see one. bit more secretive than other raptors tho.

red-tailed hawk -1/10 a majestic cry that always gets used for eagles in voiceovers, absolutely stunning, and a staple of the midwest and west but... baby ain't got a single braincell. head empty. mobbed on the regular by birds a tenth their size. i've personally watched a single sparrow harass one for 30 minutes before it gave up and ran away. can't steal shit to save its own life. scared of everything ever. they're basically horses of the birds of prey, if horses were a little less psychotic.

mallard duck 1/10 just little dudes doing their own thing. females can get a little aggro when nesting thats about it. sometimes pushy when food is involved. otherwise just chill, beautiful guys. but do me a solid, my web-footed friends? stop fucking nesting in my garden!! i don't like stressing you out when i'm tending to it!!

northern bobwhite (quail) -5000000/10 you're doing great sweetie just keep doing what you're doing. bob-bobwhite amirite

red-winged blackbird 4/10 you lot have a scare tactic technique that sparrows wish they had by just squaring up in numbers and looking fabulous while doing so. no notes.

eastern bluebird 0/10 they've literally never done anything ever wrong. perfection. little fairies but without all the deviousness. absolute cuteness. a blessing to be in ones presence.

scissor-tailed flycatcher 9/10 ahhh yes our stunning state bird. the herald of summer. the graceful acrobatic dancer. the beautiful singer. the brutal serial killer of all things insect. watching them 'hunt' is spectacular. one of the few birds that can hover. they're deadly accurate. almost exclusively capture their prey mid-air. but sometimes they'll get a bug too big to snipe on wing and do you know what they do in that case? they'll take it to their perch and beat it to death. remarkable.

carolina chickadee 4/10 don't let their round sweetness deceive you. they are full of spite and precisely zero fear. will absolutely pick on birds twenty times their size. small man syndrome.

mourning dove 0/10 hwoo hoo hoo hoo?

bald eagle, 2/10 WHAT are you doing this far south sir. we are landlocked my guy. the ocean is that way. big rivers and lakes are the other way. certainly there cannot be enough fish for you here!! surprisingly docile, for a giant raptor.

golden eagle 10/10 he'll eat your dog in front of you and then fuck your wife while maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. everything is afraid of this motherfucker.

great egret 0/10 they're chill and serenity incarnate. and their smaller cattle cousins are exactly the same. their size is the only thing intimidating about them. fuckers are HUGE

american goldfinch 3/10 food aggressive, mostly. lovely to look at. they really like to bitch up a storm tho.

california gull 90000000/10 nature's biggest asshole. we don't even have large bodies of water here. get out.

hummingbirds, all (ruby-throated pictured) 10/10 they choose violence every waking moment. god help you if you've forgotten to refill a nectar feeder. all they know is speed, feed, make things bleed.

barn swallow 9/10 Do Not Go Near The Nest. willing and able to peck you to death.

baltimore oriole 1/10 goofy guys with a great sense of fashion and one of the prettiest songs. they're just here to flirt and have a good time

greater roadrunner 3/10 i love our mini velociraptors so much i dare not speak ill of them. also one of the few birds that fuck outside of the need to reproduce. hell yeah my dudes get it on you freaky little dinos.

northern mockingbird 5/10 i think these guys are on par with how the europeans feel about magpies. they don't really steal shit, but they will, like grackles, commit psychological warfare by being the most annoying little shit possible. and sometimes they're bold enough to chase you. their hatred of cats outweighs their sense of self-preservation, too. they will get into a metaphorical fist fight with a cat. and win, usually.

eastern meadowlark 6/10 i know our prairies are awfully tempting to go frolicking in but unless you crave an unusual death that involves being relentlessly shrieked at with drive-by stabbings, i wouldn't recommend it. these guys are lurking in the tall grass, just waiting to fuck up your day.

black vulture 1/10 slightly smaller than their red-faced cousin, way more common here, and so so chill. they're all bark and no bite, unless you're roadkill. is one in the road blocking you from passing because he's chowing down on a dead opossum? go around, bitch. you are not important enough for him to get out of the way.

wild turkey 11/10 (males) female turkeys are pretty cool. they can be a bit Extra but generally they just want to eat. males, however. males would love nothing more but to beat you to death and then take a shit on your corpse. persistent. unyielding. once you have become a target your only hope is getting in a car and quickly driving away. if they don't beat the shit out of your car first, that is.

desert cardinal 2/10 these guys are great. they're not even supposed to be here. i always mistake them for female cardinals at first. about the same temperament as normal cardinals. they're weird but everyone seems to be okay with them.

great horned owl 8/10 so, so stupid and yet so spiteful. not a great combo. so ironic owls are the posterchild of wise when they're perhaps one of the dumbest birds of prey. its a wonder they haven't stupided their way into extinction. only thing this idiot has going for it is being so photogenic and has the most creepy mood-setting song ever.

[aizenat]

My god, Lestat’s memory of him warning Louis about turning Claudia is wild as he goes on about her body aging though the world will constantly treat her as a child. The mentioning of how Louis does need to consider what it could do for her psyche to always have to reconcile that discrepancy. The way we saw her do this season.

But more importantly, the way Lestat, a white Frenchman, didn’t consider the affect turning a Black American man into an extremely powerful vampire living in the even more aggressively racist south would do on his psyche as he tries to reconcile with his powerlessness to address the racism in society while being strong enough to tear these racists in half if he didn’t have to keep what he was a secret. The way you can see his face pulling from lived experience, showing Lestat didn’t consider how Louis’ race could impact how he took to being a vampire. Never considered it getting in the way. And now he’s spent years watching the love of his life suffer to deal with the grief of it all and knowing he’s to blame for it all.

I don’t want this episode to end tbqh.

[faerievampling]

awesome! thanks for the request info~

you talked a little about Astarion decorating you with jewels in a modern au (can't find the post now :(

do you think he's active in socials? does he post you frequently? paint his nails w you? does he expect something ornate or flashy for valentine's?

I'm so curious to know what you make of him in any modern context really (*^‿^*)

I love modern astarion <3 everything here is based on our sweet spawn btw (but I do have some of Hcs about a take on the ascendant in a modern au…) this is 18+ and female reader in mind

here’s the ask I think you’re talking about if curious buttt…i went crazy here anon. i hope you enjoy ♡

I think Astarion would def be the type to post a lot about his girlfriend. Tons of pictures of the two of you, never unflattering though. Like let’s be honest, that vampire would be extremely photogenic if only that king had a reflection lol so in modern AU, oh man. Imagine the most flawless selfies ever: imagine the naughty pics he would send you.

Astarion knows how to use the camera on his phone. So throughout the day, he’s just gonna be sending you naughty messages and pics because that’s just how he is. Astarion is a tease, and you absolutely love this about him.

Astarion will be cringe and send you shirtless mirror selfies. Like a dad. Or a frat boy. And he will look good doing it. It will always be a joke when he does, but you’ll be blushing nonetheless.

You and Astarion def have a streak on snapchat. it’s like, ridiculously long. it doesn’t even matter if you’re 18 or 35, Astarion insists that you maintain this. It’s more important to him than he would care to admit lol

um okay but Astarion who knows how to fix cars. Mechanic Astarion! I’m kidding he would hate the mess 😂 but i love the idea of him being really good at using his hands, and I think Astarion has a vast knowledge of totally random things that will shock you when you first start dating him. I don’t think modern Astarion is beneath fixing Tav’s car or checking her oil (he might even pump your gas for you if you’re nice enough) but he will complain. Probably a lot.

Astarion hates the state fair(I’m an American from the South). I’ll say no more.

I might have said this in the other ask but i do think Astarion loves holidays, especially Christmas: he just loves getting presents (and buying you presents, but he hates buying them for anyone else). Omg You doing elf on the shelf for Astarion. Every day, you move that damn elf, probably putting the poor thing in inappropriate positions, and Astarion makes it his mission to find it. He’s so annoyed by it lol but he loves it and you always do your best to make him laugh. And it works, because ultimately he just thinks you’re so fucking adorable.

Easter – yeah Astarion doesn’t care for religion, so you will be his god on Easter Sunday <3 🥠=*your luck will be high this day. Expect worship and pleasure*

Valentine’s day – I think Astarion will def take this opportunity to do something intimate and meaningful with you, but I think the more effort you put in, the better, because Astarion will appreciate it. He probably doesn’t want anything too gaudy or over the top, (it has to be tasteful)

Um Astarion is def into the high tech sex toys. He literally loves playing with you, especially if the toy connects to his phone, so he can control you from across the house. He will beg you to wear your lovense in public (that’s up to you if you want that ;) just so he can watch you squirm. i’m a believer that he loves using his tongue and then his cock (in this order of top favorite things Astarion loves doing to your desperate body) on you, but when he starts to discover all these new toys…he’s so game.

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 21 – ULTIMATES

A Hundred Times, Once by FestiveFerret, SirSapling

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 24,761 Tags: Time Loop, Internalized Homophobia, Falling in Love

Summary: The shrill tone of his SHIELD beeper pulls Steve out of sleep and into battle. He fights robots, he fights Tony's shameless advances, he fights the exhaustion that threatens to take over him, drown him. And then the next morning, he wakes and does it again. Exactly the same. And again. And again. And again.

Reasons why I love it: Poor Steve, oh my god. I really love how the focus of the fic – in a reflection of Steve's mindset – goes from being about the Ultimates and their battles to Steve's fixation on Tony specifically. The way their relationship builds feels so raw and almost painful before it gets easier, and I love every second of it. Plus, the smut is incredible. If you haven't read this one yet, you definitely should!

Every Chance We'll Have by magicasen

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 16,835 Tags: Secret Marriage, Hospitals, Established Relationship

Summary: A mission gone south leaves a city block decimated and Iron Man hospitalized, but what makes top headlines is the fact that Captain America has a secret lover. To the man himself, it's a living nightmare. His husband is in a coma, his entire world is falling apart around him, and Steve has to to confront realities he never wanted to.

Reasons why I love it: Yeees, give me all the feels! I love the flashbacks of how Steve and Tony got together, and all the scenes that touch on the topic of Tony's cancer are incredibly heartbreaking. That conversation with Gail towards the end especially hit home with me. This fic is wonderful, and you should definitely read it!

Under God by isozyme

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 40,185 Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, Dom/Sub

Summary: “Captain America represents the values of our country. The recent allegations about his sexuality are specious and designed to smear an American icon. Captain Rogers regularly attends the Church of Saint Agnes and invites the citizens of New York to attend worship with him this Sunday, April 14th. God bless America.” -- Nobody was ever going to know. Steve would be a good husband, a good father, and he’d never give in to sin and touch another man. But Steve makes two mistakes, one after the other: he leaves two words out of the Pledge of Allegiance, and he doesn’t notice a camera flash among the strobe lights of a dark club, because he’s dancing with his clumsy hands on Tony’s hips.

Reasons why I love it: Steve just completely breaks my heart in this one. The man-out-of-time feels are strong, and I absolutely love his inner struggles with not just his sexuality but his fragile masculinity. And oh my god, poor Tony, he really deserves better than this. I'm so glad Steve figures that out too at some point, because the heartbreak is almost unbearable, it's so good. isozyme writes some of the best Steve vs the Modern World fics, and this one is no exception. Go and read it if you haven't, it's amazing!

[diazisms]

OMG idk why i didn't know you were an american south enjoyer but god. i NEED more southern eddie content in my life. i need to see that man drink a sweet tea. complain about the lack of good bbq in LA. put on a horrid playlist that's a combo of pop-country and Elvis Crespo. do some weird southern person shit like saying he can smell that it's gonna rain soon, or "if the lord is willin and the crick don't rise". just. southern eddie 😍😍😍😍 (obligatory i'm from the ozarks so this may or may not land for texans lol)

i am!!! i’m from texas and it does land fear not!!! i just want someone to pull out eddie’s homecoming photos with shannon and he’s wearing a HIDEOUS garter and shannon has the world’s biggest, frilliest mum and buck’s pennsylvania east coast ass is like “eddie what the hell is this”. eddie saying y’all. they’re on a call to a mexican restaurant and selena is playing over the speaker and eddie starts singing softly along and buck just about proposes on the spot. sweet tea fiend. dr pepper over coke and everyone is just like “oh my god how are you SO WRONG”. rodeo please. please one single call to a rodeo. chim going “do you feel at home here, eddie?” as a joke and eddie shrugs and locks eyes with buck and goes “i know how to ride” all faux casual and buck trips and nearly face plants into the ground. texan eddie my LOVE <333

[spottheantisemitism]

"what if the X-men were black?" is a racist, antisemitic and anti-intersectional screed that 2013 tumblr fell in love with

Published in 2013 this made rounds of OG tumblr and made Bobby of Pencilscratchins draw all her Jewish X-men characters as brown.

Erik because he has Romani heritage (which is realistic and based and accurate to some comics).

Anon go kick rocks with your colorism! YOU read holocaust testimonies!

Also fun fact Nazi Germany did not understand black and brown the way Americans do so it was based on ethnicity and not color, a brown Jew and a pale white passing Jew were seen as one and the same to the Nazis

Guess which article she linked

It's this one!

But said Kitty was Latine because "the quintessential X-girl of the 70s shouldn't be white"

Kitty already is a queer woman of color because she's Jewish. Jews are POC. Bobby what the hell? Are you implying she's only coded non-white because she's Jewish or Mutant? what the hell?!

(BTW Bobby left Tumblr around Covid but if you send her hate asks because of this essay you'll end up on spot-the-antisemitism blocklist for harrasment)

Where did she get this "Jews are white and should be race lifted?" stuff? Why from Orion!

Top paragraph is fine!

antisemitism is written the gentile way that supports a racist eugenicist, off to a bad start.

Sexism is not covered? OH explain Storm's arcs of misogynoir or Jean's and Maddy's arc of going insane because she has the power of a god but is forced to be housewife and marry her sweetheart and have kids

Ableism is not explored? I'm sorry what about XAVIER'S ENTIRE ARC OF ABLIEST SELF HATRED AND OVERCOMING IT IN THE PREQUELS? The first class all being rich talented codedly disabled kids going to a prep school for the gifted. Disabled people really liking non human passing characters like Nightcrawler (and hating Xavier since he's too assimilationist to many). I'm sorry why do people fall for such blatant lies? the mentor of the X-men is literally canonically disabled and Orion has the GALL to claim ableism is not explored.

_ Genosha is half fall of south Africa Apartheid and half the establishment of the state of Israel hence why the metaphor is so messy and problematic

_ Yes that number is deliberately "like the holocaust but worse" because Morrison likes their holocaust appopriation

_ Why didn't you mention it's an allegory for Gay conversion therapy torture because Bryan Singer is gay?

_ Yes Legacy Virus is Mutant Aids good job on your media literacy finally kicking in Orion

It's racism AND antisemitism but your "antisemtism doesn't exist in america" ass doesn't get that

I do hate "mutie" as slur and the way Kitty thinks it's comparable to antisemtic and anti-black slurs and USES them to make a point, so yeah something Orion and I agree on.

The sequence used is of Stevie Hunter the human ally character who like Xavier started teaching after she became disabled. She IS used as prop here to say Kitty is right in calling her the n-word (Claremont is racist sometimes).

But Orion can't tell her apart from Storm. Buddy if you can't tell the ONLY two black women in this comic apart, you're the racist.

OK they're both props but it proves you never actually read the comics or you can't tell fictional black women apart neither of which is a good look

(Cole also points out the Kitty and Magneto are not White but Jewish he is dogpiled and called a fake fan for this (see below))

Keep Shyminksy out of your mouth you racist fake fan

OH NO! I hate this!

So you decided to go with the colorist idea that the man is darker and the innocent girl in need of protecting is lighter. Gross colorism worthy of a Hollywood action movie where the black guy dies

"Local black man can't related to white disabled teens facing ableism and makes it about racism so he can relate to it" is giving gamergate chud energy to me

If you can't see why a Russian man is almost killed by a mob of xenophobic red blooded Americans and HAVE to make this about anti-black racism that's on you and your misunderstanding of the way Russians were hated during the cold war.

Oh you are race swapping x-men while shitting on Psylocke who the result of basically the same idea? How hypocritical

Dwayne McDuffe does have a point but your quote does not utilize his point in any way.

Then DON'T raceswap Wolverine if he becomes the angry black man. Think before you can X-men racism and tokenism WORSE with your race-swapping

NO THEY DON'T strawman rejected

Ah yes! Magneto, famously a very white man whose childhood was full of white privilege/ Sarcasm

One of the co-authors of the website has the gall to double down on calling Magneto white:

"as a REAL fan you're fake fan, antisemitism doesn't exist and Holocaust survivor Jews are white" - this racist defending his token black friend's racist screed because some guy called Cole DARED call Orion on his bullshit

*"I didn't like that the X-men were about white passing and invislbe disability so I made about anti black racism" also "judiasm is just a religion" canard

**Again leave Shyminksy and Morrison's good takes alone

***Yeah you get Luke Cage, that's how you get the racism of bad Luke Cage comics. You ain't inventing the racist wheel here

Orion I hate your take, I hate your misunderstanding of antisemitism and ableism that makes the two main factions tick, I hate your self centerness, I hate your racist and antisemitic co-writer making excuses for you and I REALLY hate that this did to the 2013 X-fandom what Lily Orchard did to the 2019 Steven Universe fandom and we can still see people using your bullshit arguments today

Oh and Cole? thank you for your service you're the real hero of this story, hated and feared for daring to call out the establishment

[khaantengri]

My new old books

My new old books about Ireland. The first one is a collection of novels of an old Irish writer Maurice O'Sullivan translated into English. It's about life on islands near the south-western coast of Ireland. By the way this book is printed in 1992 and it contains an inscription in Russian meaning "To Liana from Nael, Dublin, 1994". Isn't in wonderful?!

It reminded me the other inscription on Bobby Fischer's book I bought in January. According to that inscription a Russian man presented that book which is about an american grossmeyster to another russian man in 1979. And that was in the Iron Curtain period! I love to read book inscriptions).

The second one is an Irish language coursefor beginners. It's good but doesn't contains audio materials so I decided to use it later.

God bless booksellers🥰

[solarflicker]

Judas Iscariot: The Queer Iconoclast's Icon

With queer acceptance on the rise (at least compared to past decades), the experience of coming out of the closet has changed significantly. Coming out is often an occasion that calls for celebration, Pride is a corporate parade celebrated in every state with at least one major city. But for many queer people, particularly in the evangelical American south, coming out remains a traumatic ordeal (this is especially true for transgender youth). Coming out as queer means coming out as a liar and a traitor to everything you were raised to uphold. Within evangelical theology, one cannot embrace queer identity and be a Christian. One cannot belong in their community if one is not a Christian. To embrace your own queerness you must become an apostate in their eyes. To become an apostate is to be effectively excommunicated. With this experience in mind, it is not surprising that many queer people from Christian backgrounds have embraced the figure of Judas Iscariot.

An icon is an image of religious or political significance, and an iconoclast is someone who shatters an icon. For the purposes of this post, I am going to focus on icons representing saints and martyrs. The image and the person represented are both referred to as icons. The person depicted in the icon is an aspirational figure that one is meant to be inspired to emulate, a shorthand representation of a person at their idealized best. (This is not necessarily a bad thing, nearly every culture has icons of their own. Familiar queer icons include the likes of Marsha P. Johnson, Leslie Feinberg, and Sappho of Lesbos.) However, being upheld as an icon is not the same as being known as a full person. The icon is an inherently incomplete representation and can never be a complete, nuanced person.

A common experience among queer people, particularly in religious communities, is feeling the need to hide a part of themselves. But no matter how it manifests, queerness is not easy to hide and it only gets more painful over time. Being in the closet is more than simply neglecting to mention a preference. To be in the closet, first a closet must be built. Walls need to be constructed to protect ourselves from people who love us, and the most readily available materials are lies, secrecy, and deceit. While our real selves hide behind the constructed identity, the person we present as is one that meets the hegemonic expectations of cisgender heteronormativity, or at the very least respectable abstinence. The icon is a pretty picture, and we are rewarded with acceptance, but the fear of being outed is a prison. The only way to escape is to shatter that icon. 

Very little is known about Judas Iscariot within biblical canon. He seems to have been largely erased from the narrative outside of his famous betrayal kiss. The authors of the gospels did not see his experiences as relevant to the story, despite the magnitude of his role. To them he was nothing outside of a traitor. In popular culture his name is synonymous with betrayal, and his portrayal in biblical art is unflattering at best. Judas’s erasure is similar to what many queer people who are disowned by their family experience. Their picture is taken down from the wall and Judas’s story is unwritten. The life and love they shared with their family, everything about them that was inoffensive before is irrelevant. Judas is erased and so are they. All that remains is his icon, an image of a cold, heartless man who hated God and betrayed an innocent man.

One can easily speculate about Judas. It seems unlikely that he spent years in Jesus’s ministry scowling in the shadows and plotting his demise. He could not have truly betrayed Jesus if Jesus did not trust and love him. Some apocryphal literature suggests that Jesus was closer to him than the other disciples and personally asked him to turn him in so that his mission could be completed. In this interpretation, Judas’s betrayal is an act of sacrifice and devotion, sealed with a kiss. And people think he deserved to suffer in hell forever for it. Modern retellings are often more sympathetic to Judas. Many are told by secular artists (Jesus Christ Superstar, The Last Temptation of the Christ, Judas (Boom! Comics)), but notably The Chosen, which is created by an evangelical studio, has taken humanizing approach to his character. Through this media he has been given a new image and become a completely different icon.

A queer relationship with spirituality and religion is often complex and deeply painful. Progressive theology can be healing and while I am not Christian myself I do enjoy engaging with it, but it doesn’t change the fact that this year at Pride, three different people told me that I deserve to burn in hell as they held a Bible in the air. I went to a Christian college and I had friends who were afraid of losing their scholarships if they were outed. I attended a protest against banning books at my local library and was called a groomer to my face. These are people that shop at the same grocery stores that I do and ask me what church I attend when I am in line at McDonald’s. One man openly sneered and turned away when I answered I was attending an Episcopalian church at the time. The people around me have made it abundantly clear that queer people are not welcome in their heaven. If Judas is in hell, he will find good company.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 5/14/2024

googled "sample bon mot" in a fit of desperation, considered asking chatgpt to generate me some for 0.2 seconds before the visceral BLEUGH reaction plus remembered that every query is like pouring a 16oz water bottle out on the ground, and figured this series of events would be a better intro than anything else i could come up with

listening

miya folick's Pet Body was off last week's spotify rec playlist. i had liked some individual songs by miya folick (singer/songwriter/alt/indie/dance/electronica) but now i gotta really dive into her discography-- this particular very peppy and upbeat song with dire lyrics is really clicking with me lately as my body overreacts to texas pollen and engages in other known misbehaviors.

the chorus, my god

Proper care and feeding for my pet body

and this verse

I'm just a brain with a pet body Out for a walk until I croak I'm just an ordinary subject In an ordinary book

as my mother used to say, i'm real fuckin sick and tired of being sick and tired!!!

-

reading

ough i need to vacuum. i picked up Mrs Vargas and the Dead Naturalist by Kathleen Alcalá for a dollar last summer bc 0) killer title 1) it was a dollar 2) cool cover 3) autographed 4) endorsed by le guin.

kind of fascinating as an object: weird little lesbian (?) boutique press that's still around, idk ive ever seen a notice about steps they took to ensure the longevity of the physical book before?

i find myself bouncing off latin and south american magical realism a lot bc i am not in those authors’ intended audiences/i do not have the background to fully appreciate them. i have a bachelors of science. and that’s fine bc that’s the point! this is one of the very few times post-college where i caught myself thinking “man i gotta find a class to take about this”.

even if i do not understand the wider cultural context or the real-life figures she obliquely references in many of these short stories (i am convinced the bird-voiced singer is based on a real singer), i do appreciate alcalá’s craft: true short stories, she makes her point and then ends it. the twist in Reading the Road specifically— woof that’s gonna stick with me for a bit. a perfect little o henry twist of the knife. i wanted so badly to link this specific short story but apparently nobody has used it to teach anything and the book itself is not widely available/on the internet archive/etc. u will have to find this story of a roadside fortune teller (who is current on all her business permits) and one day's fortune telling, by yourself perhaps through your library

-

watching

the prisoner, the seventeen episode british sixties tv cult classic. let's yoink the description from wikipedia.

The Prisoner is a British television series created by Patrick McGoohan, with possible contributions from George Markstein.[2] McGoohan portrays Number Six, an unnamed British intelligence agent who is abducted and imprisoned in a mysterious coastal village after resigning from his position.[3] The allegorical plotlines of the series contain elements of science fiction, psychological drama, and spy fiction.

number six shares a lot of traits with my cat philip marlowe, as they are both hell fucking bent on escaping and all attempts to restrain them just sort of train them to be better at the next attempt? as one might expect from a heavily allegorical sixties show, kind of heavy emotional going so im watching an episode every day or two.

why am i watching this? it's free on my library streaming service (and tubi), and i don't have a lot going on. i love one-season cancelled shows, i love Dad Media, unfortunately i was a navy brat and i do love some cloak and dagger shit. i LOOOOVE a fucked up little town and bureaucracy-as-cudgel. i actually came across this when i wishlisted the game We Happy Few back in 2018, another entry in the "creepy little british towns" genre. have yet to play it

-

playing

the cosmology and general backstory of genshin is convoluted as hell (The Gods are real and live in the sky, but some lowercase-g gods are also rulers of the seven nations in-game) but they have been foreshadowing a grand showdown since the very beginning of the game. one player character cannot de- or re-stablize so many regions and engage in so many power struggles without someone taking notice.

i did NOT, however, expect one of the regional god-rulers (purple) to start planning for this divine war in a side cutscene in a seasonal event. a seasonal event around rock n roll rhythm games. absolutely devastated i missed the pink fox lady's rerun right after i had to give my work laptop back and before i got the PC fixed. this game will not run on my iphone 12 for love or money

-

making

bit of a depression hovel situation going on. we are slowly rolling that back tho. finally met my landlord during the HVAC replacement debacle, he said that he bought this apartment in 2009, lived here for ten years, and then his parents lived here for a couple years. i am the first non-family tenant, i think. all of the appliances and fixtures are from 2009. i think the fridge will be the next to go. ANYWAY. i asked him what the deal was with the lack of bathroom vents and HE said when he had an air conditioner put in in 2009 the HVAC guy then assured him he only needed the HVAC vents and closed up the actual vents. which is a load of shit. i am not really excited to live here for another year but i really super can't afford to move and finding an apartment in houston the first time was such a goddamn nightmare. i cannot do three years tho. hopefully something will have changed by august 2025.

i have also, through a special cashback bonus reward on my credit card, a sale, a gift card, and cashing in more cashback money, acquired a cat tree for philip. modeled here by mackie bc we did room swapping again as i was writing this. i cannot be bothered to install curtain tiebacks or properly fold anything, as you can see below

[two-white-butterflies]

social media universe masterlist

you're losing me pairing: jacaerys velaryon/popstar!reader/aemond targaryen description: after a gruesome breakup with jace - his billionaire uncle offers you a proposal that you can't resist. [fake dating trope]

illicit affairs pairing: aemond targaryen/kpop-idol!reader description: it was forbidden to date a man like him. but still, you choose to fall. [cheating trope]

cats and dogs pairing: aemond targaryen/model-influencer!reader description: you meet him in the animal shelter.

emma falls in love pairing: aemond targaryen/reader description: fake dating trope for taylor swift tickets.

i'm a m*therfucking starboy pairing: prince!daemon targaryen/model!reader description: you meet the infamous prince of dragonstone. [enemies to lovers trope]

fence pairing: daemon targaryen/reader description: he's your dad's best friend.

therese ➺ milk matches her underwear ➺ horses, cars and cowboys do pairing: millionaire!daemon targaryen/lowkey-actress!reader description: in where, your private life becomes public. [secret relationship trope]

two white butterflies ➺ how to disappear ➺ miss american pie pairing: accomplished!daemon targaryen/singer!reader description: daemon begins dating a singer who hates the spotlight.

i shouldn't cry pairing: prince!daemon targaryen/heiress!reader (south east asian reader) description: prince daemon in love with a rich girl.

false god pairing: prince!daemon targaryen/singer!reader description: you are forced to choose between family and ambition.

brooklyn baby pairing: cregan stark/ice-skater!reader description: he's on the hockey team, and you're a figure skater.

dorothea pairing: helaena targaryen/cam-girl!reader description: helaena visits your onlyfans.

taco truck x vb pairing: otto hightower/socialite-actress!reader description: you date ur dad's coo

riptide ➺ two pairing: college student!aegon targaryen/ceo!reader description: aegon's friends have been wondering how he gets to have the coolest things without having a job.

smooth operator pairing: driver!aegon targaryen/verstappen!reader description: he falls in love with his teammate's sister.

cinnamon pairing: aegon targaryen/reader description: aegon meets a girl in his coffee shop.

i know places pairing: streamer!aegon/non-showbiz!reader description: no one knows who his gf is.

i did one thing right description: a famous indie actress is married to a poet. but he refuses to write about her. pairing: jace velaryon/actress!reader