#I replied to your other comment but in the thread

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

honestly it's been really healing being back to actively contributing things and writing out thoughts on tumblr the last week or so, because while twitter tends to be easier for me to write out Thoughts on without getting overwhelmed, the environment in the twitter fandom circles i'm interested in is not only infested with antis but cliqueish in a way that is caustic to the fucking soul if you try to express a thought that's more than three sentences long--a hundred times over if you're autistic in slightly the wrong way--and it's incredibly reassuring to come back to an environment where the very kindest and most inclusive people toward you are not clearly thinking the r-slur the entire time they interact with you lmao

[izzyizumi]

Digimon Ghost Game ~ Hiro & Gammamon + {Tanabata}! (Japanese cultural holiday taking place on July 7th!)

[twilight-owl]

Tumblr replies are being very buggy for me right now jfc. My comments are putting on a disappearing reappearing magic act all on their own!

[gghostwriter]

One Single Thread of Gold

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 2 Summary: The three times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the one time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes Trope: Fluff! Just fluff and team banter! w.c: 4.0k a/n: For some reason, my earlier post on this disappeared dunno why. But this is a very self indulgent fic as reader’s background is basically based on the industry I work in. I had a lot of fun writing the team banter and I hope you enjoy it too! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗

The first clue presented itself on a dull Wednesday night as the team, minus Hotch and Rossi, were leaving the bullpen after a full day of pushing papers. Penelope in all of her sunshine and colorful glory was buzzing about these accessories that she once spotted on a storefront window.

“I saw a pair of earrings and a matching necklace that would look so good with that top you bought the other day, JJ. You know, the blue one with those soft sleeves—they would look great with it. It’s tres boho chic.”

JJ smiled, opening her mouth to reply, but Spencer beat her to it.

“Did you know that boho chic was actually a response to political and social movements?”

“Wait, what?” Emily interjected.

He took her disbelief as a sign to continue on. “Yeah, yeah. There’s an article written about it in Vogue—softness and femininity historically appears in moments of political stress and war. Just like in the 70s with the hippie and anti-war movement that defined their style as a generation.”

They all piled into the elevator and turned to face the boy genius like he grew another head. For all they knew, this could be a clone and a very bad one at that. The Spencer Reid that they knew had absolutely no interest in the realms of fashion.

Penelope was the first to break the silence. “Vogue?”

“Kid, what gives? Just the other time, you didn’t know how many shoes a woman owns and now you’re some kind of expert?” Derek asked with both eyebrows raised.

“Did not knowing activate some kind of button that made you want to read about it?” Emily added on, feeling like she was in some kind of TV prank show.

“What?” Spencer licked his lips, nervous with all the attention on him. He felt like he was about to slip something up that he had been keeping to himself for a while now. A hidden precious gem that was you. “I—I like to read.” A believable excuse except his voice went up an octave, giving him away.

The three women shared a look.

“But you read academic textbooks and classic literature,” JJ stated.

Penelope added on. “Not fashion magazines.”

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to reading. If it’s interesting—” he shifted his weight one side to another, thinking that the ride down on the elevator seemed to be taking slower than usual. “—I’ll read it.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes. She was no profiler but she could smell a lie from a mile away way. That wasn’t the whole truth. Dr. Spencer Reid was hiding something.

“Okay, see you tomorrow!” he squeaked out as he ran out of the elevator once it hit the lobby.

She turned to the three profilers, stunned with the boy genius’ erratic behavior. “Huh, did anybody else get the feeling that Spencer was hiding something?”

“Maybe, but the kid does read a lot. Maybe he just ran out of books.” Morgan shrugged.

The other two profilers tilted their heads and slowly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t far off on something Spencer would do. He did once pick up a pamphlet in the airport to read as mentioned before to her by Derek, granted it was for a case but still, Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else.

So when she arrived home that very same night, she propped up her laptop and got to digging. Boy Genius was hiding something big and Little Miss Oracle of Quantico can find anything with her tech skills. She’ll get to the bottom of this mystery, once and for all.

———

Spencer was glad to be coming home to your presence. Having spied the lights still on from the outside of the apartment, he took the steps two at a time, excited to see his 2nd favorite person after his mother—you.

“Spence?” You called out, having heard the mahogany front door open. “Is that you, baby?”

“Hey, love. I missed you,” he deposited his satchel to the nearby sofa and ran to give you a hug.

You burrowed yourself into his arms. All the muscles in your body relaxing as you caught a whiff of his cedar wood perfume—the same scent you’ve gifted to him during the early stages of dating. “I missed you too. How was your day?”

“Better now with you,” his words coming out muffled as he refused to detach himself from the embrace. “Actually, I almost slipped up today.”

You extricated from his arms to give him an inquisitive look. The slight scrunch on your nose and raised brows made his heart flutter. How expressive, free, and trusting you were. It reminded him of your first encounter. How you teasingly asked him if he was a serial killer when he offered you a ride home in the pouring rain and how you easily accepted regardless.

“Yeah? Did any of them catch on?” you probed as you pulled him by his belt loops to the direction of the bedroom.

He laughed, finding your aggression cute. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Maybe we should schedule dinner with them sometime,” you coyly suggested as you slowly started to unravel his tie. “I mean, we’ve been together for over a year now and I have moved into your apartment, under the guise of watering your plants while you’re away. Which is a lie, by the way—”

“I have plants!” he protested. His hands divesting you out of his sweater, bringing to view his favorite silk set in deep purple that accentuated your skin and the blush on your cheeks.

“—that I brought over, Spence,” you quipped back. “But don’t worry, I won’t spill how the intelligent FBI agent fooled naive me into moving in with him.”

There was a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Love, I wouldn’t exactly call you naive—” his voice going an octave lower. “—not when you’re looking at me with those tempting eyes of yours.”

Giggling, you leaned in for a kiss, one that he quickly took over. His calloused dominant hand wrapped around the back of your neck, effectively caging you in while his other cradled your cheek—a stark contrast to the other. Kissing Spencer had always felt like a religious experience that you never want to part from.

Reluctantly pulling away, you caught glimpse of his need for you. His hazel eyes now dark as ink, nostrils slightly flared, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his dominant hand dug into the fleshy nape of your neck. It made you feel desirable, like the goddess that he would call you when he’s on his knees tasting nectar from the source.

The discussion of inviting the team out for dinner was long forgotten. No other words were spoken as you pushed him on the bed—only the cries of his and your name and moans of ‘yes’ echoed well into the night.

***

The second clue was uncovered when Spencer walked into the cold windy bullpen with new black cardigan adorning his lithe body. It was non-descriptive to the untrained eye but for fashion enthusiast Penelope Garcia, she knew what those four white lines on the sleeve meant—luxury label and priced well above their pay grade.

She narrowed her eyes. The Spencer she knew wouldn’t dare spend his salary on anything besides limited first edition books. Something was truly up and she planned to get to the bottom of it as her initial online search turned up nothing.

“Reid, that’s a really nice sweater,” she complimented, throwing in her bait.

He smiled. The thought of who gave it to him warmed his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks Garcia.”

Her sparkly pink kitten heels clacking on the floor as she came closer. “Can I see it?” she innocently asked.

The request threw Spencer off the loop but thought nothing of it as he shrugged and handed it to her—still warm from body temperature.

Her squeals caught the attention of the other profilers filling into the office.

“What is it, baby girl?” Morgan deposited his bag on the table and stationed himself beside her. “It’s Reid’s new sweater. Are you seeing something I’m not seeing?”

Garcia rolled her eyes. This was why females are considered more observant that their sex counterpart. Her chocolate thunder was a profiler but how could he not notice what she was deducing?

“Huh,” Emily surmised. “Based on the fibers, it’s definitely not polyester. Possibly a 100% wool, what do you think, JJ?”

“It says here on the tag—100% virgin wool,” she read out loud. “That makes it very expensive, right Garcia?”

The colorful tech analyst smiled. Her girls could never let her down. “Right you are, girlfriends! But it’s not only that, this—” pointing at the four stripes on the sleeve. “—this is a signature Thom Browne detail. Their prices go up to at least 600 dollars—” they all turned to Reid who seemed clearly agitated. “—now why does our boy wonder have a piece that could buy at most five cute heels?”

With his vast intellect, he couldn’t think of a way to weasel out of this impromptu interrogation. He couldn’t very well say that it was a gift now could he? If he did, that would lead to another hard hitting question ‘from who?’ He raked his hand through his curly hair, taking the same path as yours did just earlier as you gave him a kiss goodbye.

When you gifted him the cardigan from your last New York business trip, he really thought nothing of its material equivalence, besides feeling grateful and loved. It was proof that you paid attention to even the littlest details about him.

“Hey Spence, I got you something,” you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. The first thing you had done when you got home was run into his arms. A simple act that healed his aching heart from missing it’s other half.

You reached into your luggage, enthusiastically pulling out the black clothing wrapped in tissue paper like some magician pulling out a rabbit from a hat. “Here you go!”

“A new sweater!” He exclaimed.

You rocked on your heels, looking bashful as you explained the reasoning behind it. “I noticed you fidgeting when you wore the cardigan JJ gifted you last Christmas, the polyester fibers used on it must have been really itchy so I got you a new one—” your eyes widened at how your explanation could be taken the wrong way. “—not that her gift wasn’t great! No, it was very cute! It’s just—I want you to be comfortable and protected during your cases in cold states. Polyester is a good insulator of heat but wool is still the best.”

He loved how unabashed you rambled about your interests. That was one of the first things he piqued his notice. How you liked to share your knowledge about the fashion industry that you work for but never coming across as stuck up or snobby, you just genuinely wanted to educate anyone who had a wrong perception of the billion dollar commerce. Admittedly, he was one of them but hearing you rave about it’s nitty-gritty details and socio-economic movements changed his mind. It also helped that a beautiful and intelligent woman, such as yourself, was educating him.

He pulled you in for a kiss, stopping all the worries that ran through your head. “I love it. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing at all, baby. I like taking care of you. Just like how you take care of me,” you reasoned. “Plus I got it on sale courtesy of the magazine connections.”

A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. It was Penelope with an eyebrow raised at the subtle smile that graced his face while he replayed the moment in his head.

“Okay,” Morgan drawled. “What’s got you smiling, Pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” he squeaked out, turning to see Hotch make his way across the office. Spencer hurriedly collected his things and started to move even before their unit chief could call their attention.

“We have a case,” Hotch announced.

The remaining BAU members all looked at each other, silently communicating about Reid’s irregular demeanor, before piling into the conference room for another grueling scene of murder.

“He’s been acting weird,” Garcia rushed out. “Definitely hiding something. What do you think, Em?”

Emily nodded. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“A girl?” JJ guessed.

“Yes, must be a special one for him to keep secret for so long,” Garcia surmised. “Do you think he’ll hate it if I go further digging around to find out who she is?”

“Further?” Emily clarified.

JJ laughed. “Probably, let’s wait for him to volunteer the information. Okay, Garcia?”

She sighed, shoulders drooping, before nodding in agreement.

***

The third clue was quite literally handed to Penelope Garcia on the jet after a case when she accompanied the team.

“Cold Alaska is so not good for my skin,” she grumbled as she rummaged her bottomless bag for her favorite hand cream. “I love going with you all on trips rather than being stuck in my own tech cave but the weather wasn’t it.”

Morgan chuckled. “Aw c’mon baby girl, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our time together?”

“You, my sculpted hunk, and the fireplace were the highlight,” Penelope turned to the other female profilers. “My beauties, do any of you have lotion? I think I lost mine.”

Before JJ or Emily could even utter a word, a tube made its way to her lap courtesy of her seat mate, Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Reid, since when do you carry lotion?” Emily inquired.

He shrugged. “Hand cream has it’s benefits besides from moisturizing the skin, it also provides an additional layer of protection. Depending on it’s properties, it can also repair and undo damage.”

The females all shared a look. This was another unexplainable behavior from their resident genius.

“We know that,” JJ stated. “We just thought you didn’t.”

His brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, besides from the fact that you’ve never shown interest about skincare before, isn’t it a stereotype for men not to know? Unless—” Emily slyly smiled and nodded at Garcia to continue.

“Unless you have a girlfriend that we don’t know about,” Garcia bounced on her seat.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Spencer’s eyes widened in alarm. He didn’t realize he was walking into a trap before it was too late. “What makes you say that?”

They laughed.

JJ started. “Besides from you suddenly being knowledgeable in fashion—“

“—or having a pricey sweater you’d never buy for yourself—” Emily added on.

“Or, or—“ Garcia reached out to touch his hand. Which made Spencer react with a high pitched call of her name. “—having a shea butter lotion with rough hands!” She waved the tube up in the air. “Plus, this is half empty. So either it’s not working which I doubt since this is a good brand or you keep this in your bag for a special someone to use!”

Derek chuckled. “Baby girl, you could be a profiler at this point.”

“Oh tell me something I don’t know,” she quipped back. “So Reid, want to tell us the truth?”

He sighed, finding no escape. “Yes, yes I have a girlfriend.”

The girls all shrieked with laughter and their own corresponding questions of who is she? How did you meet? How long has this been going on? What does she do for a living? Is she pretty? Oh I bet she is!

“Looks like that cat is out of the bag,” Rossi nonchalantly stated.

Four sets of eyes turned to look at one of the BAU founders. “Rossi, you knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Garcia gasped, a hand to her chest at the thought of betrayal.

He laughed. “I caught them on a dinner date once and our boy wonder over here—“ nodded in Reid’s direction. “—begged me not to out him yet, said he wanted to be the one to tell the team the news but that was like what, six months ago?”

“Six months ago?” Emily repeated.

“Wait, wait. Hotch, don’t tell me you also knew?” Morgan asked.

The unit chief smiled. “She was added to Reid’s emergency contact last February.”

“February? That’s almost a year ago!” JJ sputtered out.

The tech analyst turned to glare at the youngest member of the BAU. “Reid, you better start spilling all the details or so help me, I will stalk all your digital footprint when we land until I find out who she is, where she lives, and what her deepest darkest secret is.”

“What about hearing it all from her, instead?” He rubbed the back of his neck. The secrecy had gone on for so long and there was no time like the present to introduce his chosen family to his chosen partner—hopefully until the end of time. “She wants to treat you all out for dinner tonight.”

All four nodded vigorously as they watched him pull out his phone and send a quick text to which you readily replied and agreed to.

“My man,” Derek sighed. “Can’t believe you got a girlfriend without me being your wingman.”

“Answer me at least this, is she pretty and does she make you happy?” Garcia asked. No matter how nosey she may be, she only wanted the best for Spencer and if the recent lightness and smiles were all caused by his mystery girlfriend, she already approved.

“The prettiest,” Spencer gushed out. “She’s my own personal sunshine.”

The three girls melted into their seats. Their youngest was all grown up waxing prose over his lover.

“She makes you sappy too,” Derek teased.

***

[EXTRA - When the mystery was uncovered]

Spencer had never felt any more nervous that this moment as he, with the rest of the team minus Hotch and Rossi, wait for your arrival. He sat with his back to the restaurant entrance and his cardigan laying on the empty seat beside him as a reservation mark. His eyes had been going back and forth to his idle phone and to the conversation the team was having.

Morgan noted his state of distress and chuckled. “You okay there, lover boy? She’s still coming right, your mystery girlfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah. She said she was on her way 9 minutes and 24 seconds ago and based on the route and traffic, she should have been here 45 seconds earlier. Just worried that something might have happened.”

Penelope leaned in, picking on her bubblegum pink choice of drink as she did. “You know, if you just told me her name I could have tracked every movement by now and you wouldn’t be sitting here worrying.”

“What—no Garcia, I don’t want her tracked plus she didn’t want you to know everything about her even before meeting her,” his voice going up an octave in your defense.

She shrugged. “I’m just saying. I mean we don’t know a single thing about her—”

“We do know she exists and you’ve been together for almost a year now,” Emily interjected.

“Actually, it’s been more than year—one year and 124 days to be exact.”

“Buttercup, all I’m saying is we don’t even know how she looks—” Garcia gasped, having spotted a passerby on the window and what she was wearing. “Oh my gosh, that maroon coat is to die for and that textured leather bag—I wonder if I could track her down and ask where she got it.”

“Oh she’s pretty,” JJ noted.

Derek smirked. “Baby girl, tell me if you plan to ask her ‘cause I wouldn’t mind asking for her number.”

The tech analyst’s eyes further widened as she noted the attractive woman going inside the restaurant.

“You weren’t kidding about that coat, Garcia, it looks really nice,” JJ appraised.

Emily squinted her eyes, taking note of the garment in question. “It looks high quality, probably vintage and—is she going near us?”

“Oh gods, she is! Act natural, act natural!” Penelope chanted as she repeatedly slapped Derek’s arm.

The stranger stopped behind Spencer. “Hey handsome,” your melodic voice was a siren that called to his every being. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped as she took in Derek’s flustered reaction.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, getting picked up in such a public setting was new even for him—the ladies man of the BAU.

You laughed. “Well, you too but I was more of talking to this lover of mine—“ you bent down, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek. “Hey, Spence.”

A series of gasps were heard all around the table.

The youngest stood up and turned to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, Y/N. I was starting to get worried.”

“I missed the train, sorry I forgot to send an update,” you explained as he helped you into your seat.

Promptly seating back down, he angled his body to yours—all attention on you as if you were the only one in the room. And in a way you were, with how molten his doe eyes stared, alternating between yours and your painted lips that begged to be kissed.

He always felt breathless when you were near. It was as if he found his very own Aphrodite to worship here on earth. Spencer was no believer of fates or destiny but he would pray and light a candle if he needed to, just to keep you his. Your intelligent mind complimenting his, your outgoing personality that draws anyone in, and your face that could launch a thousand ships.

Those eyes that could read the deepest crevices of his fiber of being. Those cheeks that begged to be caressed by his calloused hands. Those soft lips that deserved to be kissed and devoured until you, in turn, were as breathless as he was. He suddenly wished you both were anywhere else but here—specifically in the confines of the apartment where he was free to express his love, devotion, and adoration until you scream his name and beg him to stop. His hand, having found it’s way to your thigh, squeezed the flesh three times—communicating his promise to have your hair laid around you like a halo as you lay under him, bare and writhing with need.

The blonde on the other end of the table cleared her throat, cutting through the tension.

“Okay, Spence,” she smiled. “Mind introducing us to your girlfriend?”

He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a series of sweet kisses on your knuckle. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the rest of the team. Morgan—“ he gestured to each one. “Emily, JJ, and Garcia.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you!” You exclaimed. “So sorry we’re only meeting now. We wanted to stay in our little bubble for as long as we could plus this handsome FBI agent—” you nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “—wanted to keep me to himself. But where’s Aaron and Dave?”

Emily whispered under her breath. “Aaron? Dave?”

“They had prior commitments, love. They did send their regards and Rossi wants to invite you to the next gathering at his mansion,” Spencer explained.

“Love?” Penelope squeaked out. This was really starting to feel like Twilight zone for the team members.

You nodded. “I’ll definitely plot it on my calendar. Now, I heard you had some questions for me?”

“How’d you two meet?” JJ asked.

“When was the first date?” Emily inquired.

Penelope brought out a pen and paper. “What’s you social security number?”

Derek snorted at that. “Do you have any other siblings?”

Spencer’s eyebrows raised further and further up with each question while your shoulders shook with laughter.

“She has all the time in the world to get to know each of you,” Spencer laid out. “No need to make it sound like an interrogation.” He was wishing to keep you forever, if you’d let him.

You smiled as you caressed his cheek, having caught on to the veiled meaning behind his words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Predicting the present

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/09/radicalized/#deny-defend-depose

Back in 2018, around the time I emailed my immigration lawyer about applying for US citizenship, I started work on a short story called "Radicalized," which eventually became the title story of a collection that came out in 2019:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250228598/radicalized/

"Radicalized" is a story about America, and about guns, and about health care, and about violence. I live in Burbank, which is ranks second in gun-stores-per-capita in the USA, a dubious honor that represents a kind of regulatory arbitrage with our neighboring goliath, the City of Los Angeles, where gun store licensing is extremely tight. If you're an Angeleno in search of a firearm, you're almost certainly coming to Burbank to buy it.

Walking, cycling and driving past more gun stores than I'd ever seen in my Canadian life got me thinking about Americans and guns, a subject that many Canadians have passed comment upon. Americans kill each other, and especially themselves, at rates that baffle everyone else in the world, and they do it with guns. When we moved here, my UK born-and-raised daughter came home from her first elementary school lockdown drill perplexed and worried. Knowing what I did about US gun violence, I understood that while school shootings and other spree killings happened with dismal and terrifying regularity, they only accounted for a small percentage of the gun deaths here. If you die with a bullet in you, the chances are that the finger on the trigger was your own. The next most likely suspect is someone you know. After that, a cop. Getting shot by a stranger out of uniform is something of a rarity here – albeit a spectacular one that captures our imaginations in ways that deliberate or accidental self-slayings and related-party shootings do not.

So I told her, "Look, you can basically ignore everything they tell you during those lockdown drills, because they almost certainly have nothing to do with your future. But if a friend ever says to you, 'Hey, wanna see my dad's gun?' I want you to turn around and leave and get in touch with me right away, that instant."

Guns turn the murderous impulse – which, let's be honest, we've all felt at some time or another – into a murderous act. Same goes for suicide, which explains the high levels of non-accidental self-shootings in the USA: when you've got a gun, the distance between suicidal ideation and your death is the ten feet from the sofa to the gun in the closet.

Americans get angry at people and then, if they have a gun to hand, sometimes they shoot them. In a thread /r/Burbank about how people at our local cinemas are rude and use their phones in which someone posted, "Well, you should just ask them to stop." The reply: "That's a great way to get shot." No one chimed in to say, "Don't be ridiculous, no one would shoot you for asking them to put away their phone during a movie." Same goes for "road rage."

And while Americans shoot people they've only just gotten angry at, they also sometimes plan shooting sprees and kill a bunch of people because they're just generically angry. Being angry about the state of the world is a completely relatable emotion, of course, but the targets of these shootings are arbitrary. Sure sometimes these killings have clear, bigoted targets – mass shootings at Black supermarkets or mosques or synagogues or gay bars – more often the people who get sprayed with bullets (at country and western concerts or elementary schools or movie theaters) are almost certainly not the people the gunman (almost always a man) is angry at.

This line of thought kept surfacing as I went through the immigration process, but not just when I was dealing with immigration paperwork. I was also spending an incredible amount of time dealing with our health insurer, Cigna, who kept refusing treatments my pain doctor – one of the most-cited pain researchers in the country – thought I would benefit from. I've had chronic pain since I was a teenager, and it's only ever gotten worse. I've had decades of pain care in Canada and the UK, and while the treatments never worked for very long, it was never compounded by the kinds of bureaucratic stuff I went through with my US insurer.

The multi-hour phone calls with Cigna that went nowhere would often have me seeing red – literally, a red tinge closing in around my vision – and usually my hands would be shaking by the time I got off the call.

And I had it easy! I wasn't terminally ill, and I certainly wasn't calling in on behalf of a child or a spouse or parent who was seriously ill or dying, whose care was being denied by their insurer. Bernie's 2016 Medicare For All campaign promise had filled the air with statistics (Americans pay more for care and get worse outcomes than anyone else in the rich world), and stories. So many stories – stories that just tore your heart out, about parents who literally had to watch their children die because the insurance they paid for refused to treat their kids. As a dad, I literally couldn't imagine how I'd cope in that situation. Just thinking about it filled me with rage.

One day, as I was swimming in the community pool across the street – a critical part of my pain management strategy – I was struck with a thought: "Why don't these people murder health insurance executives?" Not that I wanted them to. I don't want anyone to kill anyone. But why do American men who murder their wives and the people who cut them off in traffic and random classrooms full of children leave the health insurance industry alone? This is an industry that is practically designed to fill the people who interact with it with uncontrollable rage. I mean, if you're watching your wife or your kid die before your eyes because some millionaire CEO decided to aim for a $10 billion stock buyback this year instead of his customary $9 billion target, wouldn't you feel that kind of murderous rage?

Around this time, my parents came out for a visit from Canada. It was a great trip, until one night, my mom woke me up after midnight: "We have to take your father to the ER. He's really sick." He was: shaking, nauseated, feverish. We raced down the street to the local hospital, part of a gigantic chain that has swallowed nearly all the doctors' practices, labs and hospitals within an hour's drive of here.

Dad had kidney stones, and they'd gone septic. When the ER docs removed the stones, all the septic gunk in his kidneys was flushed into his bloodstream, and he crashed. If he hadn't been in an ER recovery room at the time, he would have died. As it was, he was in a coma for three days and it was touch and go. My brother flew down from Toronto, not sure if this was his last chance to see our dad alive. The nurses and doctors took great care of my dad, though, and three days later, he emerged from his coma, and today, he's better than ever.

But on day two, when we thought he was probably at the end of his life, as my mother sat at his side, holding the hand of her husband of fifty years, someone from the hospital billing department came to her side and said, "Mrs Doctorow, I know this is a difficult time, but I'd like to discuss the matter of your husband's bill with you."

The bill was $176,000. Thankfully, the travel medical insurance plan offered by the Ontario Teachers' Union pension covered it all (I don't suppose anyone gets very angry with them).

How do people tolerate this? Again, not in the sense of "people should commit violent acts in the face of these provocations," but rather, "How is it that in a country filled with both assault rifles and unimaginable acts of murderous cruelty committed by fantastically wealthy corporations, people don't leap from their murderous impulses to their murderous weapons to commit murderous acts?

For me, writing fiction is an accretive process. I can tell that a story is brewing when thoughts start rattling around in my mind, resurfacing at odd times. I think of them as stray atoms, seeking molecules with available docking sites to glom onto. I process all my emotions – but especially my negative ones – through this process, by writing stories and novels. I could tell that something was cooking, but it was missing an ingredient.

Then I found it: an interview with the woman who coined the term "incel." It was on the Reply All podcast, and Alana, a queer Canadian woman explained that she had struggled all her life to find romantic and sexual partnership, and jokingly started referring to herself as "involuntarily celibate," and then, as an "incel":

https://gimletmedia.com/shows/reply-all/76h59o

Alana started a message board where other "incels" could offer each other support, and it was remarkably successful. The incels on Alana's message board helped each other work through the problems that stood between them and love, and when they did, they drifted away from the board to pursue a happier life.

That was the problem, Alana explained. If you're in a support group for people with a drinking problem, the group elders, the ones who've been around forever, are the people who've figured it out and gotten sober. When life seems impossible, those elders step in to tell you, I know it's terrible right now, but it'll get better. I was where you are and I got through it. You will, too. I'm here for you. We all are.

But on Alana's incel board, the old timers were the people who couldn't figure it out. They were the ones for whom mutual support and advice didn't help them figure out what they needed to do in order to find the love they sought. The longer the message board ran, the more it became dominated by people who were convinced that it was hopeless, that love was impossible for the likes of them. When newbies posted in rage and despair, these Great Old Ones were there to feed it: You're right. It will never get better. It only gets worse. There is no hope.

That was the missing piece. My short story Radicalized was born. It's a story about men on a message board called Fuck Cancer Right In the Fucking Face (FCKRFF, or "Fuckriff"), who are watching the people they love the most in the world be murdered by their insurance companies, who egg each other on to spectacular acts of mass violence against health insurance company employees, hospital billing offices, and other targets of their rage. As of today, anyone can read this story for free, courtesy of my publishers at Macmillan, who gave permission for the good folks at The American Prospect to post it:

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2024-12-09-radicalized-cory-doctorow-story-health-care/

I often hear from people about this story, even before an unknown (at the time of writing) man assassinated Brian Thompson, CEO of Unitedhealthcare, the murderous health insurance monopoly that is the largest medical insurer in the USA. Since then, hundreds of people have gotten in touch with me to ask me how I feel about this turn of events, how it feels to have "predicted" this.

I've been thinking about it for a few days now, and I gotta tell you, I have complicated feelings.

You've doubtless seen the outpourings of sarcastic graveyard humor about Thompson's murder. People hate Unitedhealthcare, for good reason, because he personally decided – or approved – countless policies that killed people by cheating them until they died.

Nurses and doctors hate Thompson and United. United kills people, for money. During the most acute phase of the pandemic, the company charged the US government $11,000 for each $8 covid test:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/06/137300-pct-markup/#137300-pct-markup

UHC leads the nation in claims denials, with a denial rate of 32% (!!). If you want to understand how the US can spend 20% of its GDP and get the worst health outcomes in the world, just connect the dots between those two facts: the largest health insurer in human history charges the government a 183,300% markup on covid tests and also denies a third of its claims.

UHC is a vertically integrated, murdering health profiteer. They bought Optum, the largest pharmacy benefit manager ("A spreadsheet with political power" -Matt Stoller) in the country. Then they starved Optum of IT investment in order to give more money to their shareholders. Then Optum was hacked by ransomware gang and no one could get their prescriptions for weeks. This killed people:

https://www.economicliberties.us/press-release/malicious-threat-actor-accesses-unitedhealth-groups-monopolistic-data-exchange-harming-patients-and-pharmacists/#

The irony is, Optum is terrible even when it's not hacked. The purpose of Optum is to make you pay more for pharmaceuticals. If that's more than you can afford, you die. Optum – that is, UHC – kills people:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/23/shield-of-boringness/#some-men-rob-you-with-a-fountain-pen

Optum isn't the only murderous UHC division. Take Navihealth, an algorithm that United uses to kick people out of their hospital beds even if they're so frail, sick or injured they can't stand or walk. Doctors and nurses routinely watch their gravely ill patients get thrown out of their hospitals. Many die. UHC kills them, for money:

https://prospect.org/health/2024-08-16-steward-bankruptcy-physicians-private-equity/

The patients murdered by Navihealth are on Medicare Advantage. Medicare is the public health care system the USA extends to old people. Medicare Advantage is a privatized system you can swap your Medicare coverage for, and UHC leads the country in Medicare Advantage, blitzing seniors with deceptive ads that trick them into signing up for UHC Medicare Advantage. Seniors who do this lose access to their doctors and specialists, have to pay hundreds or thousands of dollars for their medication, and get hit with $400 surprise bills to use the "free" ambulance service:

https://prospect.org/health/2024-12-05-manhattan-medicare-murder-mystery/

No wonder the public spends 22% more subsidizing Medicare Advantage than they spend on the care for seniors who stick with actual Medicare:

https://theconversation.com/taxpayers-spend-22-more-per-patient-to-support-medicare-advantage-the-private-alternative-to-medicare-that-promised-to-cost-less-241997

It's not just the elderly, it's also the addicted and mentally ill. UHC illegally denies coverage for mental health and substance abuse treatment. Imagine watching a family member spiral out of control, ODing, or ending up on the streets with hallucinations, and knowing that the health insurance company that takes thousands of dollars out of your paycheck refused to treat them:

https://www.startribune.com/unitedhealthcare-will-pay-15-7m-in-settlement-of-denial-of-care-charges/600087607

Unsurprising, the internal culture at UHC is callous beyond belief. How could it not be? How could you go to work at UHC and know you were killing people and not dehumanize those victims? A lawsuit by chronically ill patient whom UHC had denied care for surfaced recorded phone calls in which UHC employees laughed long and hard about the denied claims, dismissing the patient's desperate, tearful pleas as "tantrums" :

https://www.propublica.org/article/unitedhealth-healthcare-insurance-denial-ulcerative-colitis

Those UHC workers are just trying to get by, of course, and the callouses they develop so they can bear to go to work were ripped off by last week's murder. UHC's executive team knows this, and has gone on a rampage to stop employees from leaking their own horror stories, or even mentioning that the internal company announcement of Thompson's death was seen by 16,000 employees, of whom only 28 left a comment:

https://www.kenklippenstein.com/p/unitedhealthcare-tells-employees

Doctors and nurses hate UHC on behalf of their patients, but it's also personal. UHC screws doctor's practices by refusing to pay them, making them chase payments for months or even years, and then it offers them a payday lending service that helps them keep the lights on while they wait to get paid:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=frr4wuvAB6U

Is it any surprise that Reddit's nursing forums are full of nurses making grim, satisfied jokes about the assassination of the $10m/year CEO who ran the $400b/year corporation that does all this?

https://www.thedailybeast.com/leading-medical-subreddit-deletes-thread-on-unitedhealthcare-ceos-murder-after-users-slam-his-record/

We're not supposed to experience – much less express – schadenfreude when someone is murdered in the street, no matter who they are. We're meant to express horror at the idea of political violence, even when that violence only claims a single life, a fraction of the body count UCH produced under Thompson's direction. As Malcolm Harris put it, "'Every life is precious' stuff about a healthcare CEO whose company is noted for denying coverage is pretty silly":

https://twitter.com/BigMeanInternet/status/1864471932386623753

As Woody Guthrie wrote, "Some will rob you with a six-gun/And some with a fountain pen." The weapon is lethal when it's a pistol and when it's an insurance company. The insurance company merely serves as an accountability sink, a layer of indirection that lets a murder happen without any person being the technical murderer:

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

I don't want people to kill insurance executives, and I don't want insurance executives to kill people. But I am unsurprised that this happened. Indeed, I'm surprised that it took so long. It should not be controversial to note that if you run an institution that makes people furious, they will eventually become furious with you. This is the entire pitch of Thomas Piketty's Capital in the 21st Century: that wealth concentration leads to corruption, which is destabilizing, and in the long run it's cheaper to run a fair society than it is to pay for the guards you'll need to keep the guillotines off your lawn:

https://memex.craphound.com/2014/06/24/thomas-pikettys-capital-in-the-21st-century/

But we've spent the past 40 years running in the other direction, maximizing monopolies, inequality and corruption, and gaslighting the public when they insist that this is monstrous and unfair. Back in 2022, when UHC was buying Change Healthcare – the dominant payment network for hospitals, which would allow UHC to surveil all its competitors' payments – the DOJ sued to block the merger. The Trump-appointed judge in the case, Carl Nichols – who owned tens of thousands of dollars in UHC bonds – ruled against the DOJ, saying that it would all be fine thanks to United's "culture of trust and integrity":

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/the-antitrust-shooting-war-has-started

We don't know much about Thompson's killer yet, but he's already becoming a folk hero, with lookalike contests in NYC:

https://twitter.com/CollinRugg/status/1865472577478553976

And gigantic graffiti murals praising him and reproducing the words he wrote on the shell casings of the bullets he used to kill Thompson, "delay, deny, depose":

https://www.tumblr.com/radicalgraff/769193188403675136/killin-fuckin-ceos-freight-graff-in-the-bay

I get why this is distasteful. Thompson is said to have been a "family man" who loved his kids, and I have no reason to disbelieve this. I can only imagine that his wife and kids are shattered by this. Every living person is the apex of a massive project involving dozens, hundreds of people who personally worked to raise, nurture and love them. I wrote about this in my novel Walkaway, as the characters consider whether to execute a mercenary sent to kill them, whom they have taken hostage:

She had parents. People who loved her. Every human was a hyper-dense node of intense emotional and material investment. Speaking meant someone had spent thousands of hours cooing to you. Those lean muscles, the ringing tone of command — their inputs were from all over the world, carefully administered. The merc was more than a person: like a spaceship launch, her existence implied thousands of skilled people, generations of experts, wars, treaties, scholarship and supply-chain management. Every one of them was all that.

But so often, the formula for "folk hero" is "killing + time." The person who terrorizes the people who terrorize you is your hero, and eventually we sanitize the deaths, and just remember them as fighters for justice. If you doubt it, consider the legend of Robin Hood:

https://twitter.com/mcmansionhell/status/1865554985842352501

The health industry is trying to put a lid on this, palpably afraid that – as in my story "Radicalized" – this one murderer will become a folk hero who inspires others to acts of spectacular violence. They're insisting that it's unseemly to gloat about Thompson's death. They're right, but this is an obvious loser strategy. The health industry is full of people whose deaths would be deplorable, but not unsurprising. As Clarence Darrow had it:

I’ve never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure.

Murder is never the answer. Murder is not a healthy response to corruption. But it is healthy for people to fear that if they kill people for greed, they will be unsafe. On December 5 – the day after Thompson's killing – the health insurer Anthem announced that it would not pay for anesthesia for medical procedures that ran long. The next day, they retracted the policy, citing "outrage":

https://www.cnn.com/2024/12/05/health/anthem-blue-cross-blue-shield-anesthesia-claim-limits/index.html

Sure, maybe it was their fear of reputation damage that got them to decide to reverse this inhumane, disgusting, murderous policy. But maybe it was also someone in the C-suite thinking about what share of the profits from this policy would have to be spent on additional bodyguards for every Anthem exec if it went into effect, and decided that it was a money-loser after all.

Think about hospital exec Ralph de la Torre, who cheerfully testified to Congress that he'd killed patients in pursuit of profit. De la Torre clearly doesn't fear any kind of consequences for his actions. He owns hospitals that are filled with tens of thousands of bats (he stiffed the exterminators), where none of the elevators work (he stiffed the repair techs), where there's no medicine or blood (he stiffed the suppliers) and where the doctors and nurses can't make rent (he stiffed them too). De La Torre doesn't just own hospitals – he also owns a pair of superyachts:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/28/5000-bats/#charnel-house

It is a miracle that so many people have lost their mothers, sons, wives and husbands so Ralph de la Torre could buy himself another superyacht, and that those people live in a country where you can buy an assault rifle, and that Ralph de la Torre isn't forced to live in a bunker and travel in a tank.

It's a rather beautiful sort of miracle, to be honest. I like to think that it comes from a widespread belief by the people of this country I have since become a citizen of, that we should solve our problems politically, rather than with bullets.

But the assassination of Brian Thompson is a wake-up call, a warning that if we don't solve this problem politically, we may not have a choice about whether it's solved with violence. As a character in "Radicalized" says, "They say violence never solves anything, but to quote The Onion: that's only true so long as you ignore all of human history":

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2024-12-09-radicalized-cory-doctorow-story-health-care/

[amaranthineghost]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🐟 ꒱ my american lover ( logan sargeant. )

logan sargeant x aussie!reader

in which a series of instagram posts causes the internet to think you're oscar's girlfriend

authors note: motivation these days is like trying to find water in a desert TvT doesn't help that this deleted the first time i tried to post it

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri and 4,028 others

ynusername life lately

view all 302 comments

user HELP THE OSCAR PICTURE?

user this was not on my 2024 bingo card

⤷ user it was not on mine either what 😭😭😭

user since when does yn know about oscar piastri?

⤷ user and since when was he in her likes???

oscarpiastri where did you even get that photo 🥲

⤷ ynusername mumma piastri has a soft spot for me ���

⤷ oscarpiastri ah

user omg she knows oscar's mom too

user is this a soft launch???

⤷ user using oscar's photos from when he was a kid? i sure hope not 😭

⤷ user okay yeah, that'd be a little bit awkward, but why else would she post a picture of him in her photo dump

user twitter is gonna go crazy

⤷ user i can already see the threads

user does no one know that they're friends?

⤷ user i thought this was common knowledge atp because he has appeared in her previous posts...

⤷ user right, there's photos of them as kids karting together

user ynscar 🙏

⤷ user i found my people

user the ynscar rumors starting up again is wild

⤷ user well they never denied anything

⤷ user ...

⤷ user are you on something?

ynusername

liked by lilymhe and 1,937 others

ynusername what a view (the city, not oscar)

view all 103 comments

user stop, she's so pretty...and he's there

lilymhe we need to hang out and take pictures! the boys will find something to entertain themselves 😘

⤷ ynusername asap! 🙏🏻 they see each other every day, whats another?

⤷ lilymhe exactly! 😊

⤷ alex_albon what am i being signed up for?

user oh my god, lily and yn planning a hangout with their boyfriends? so its confirmed?

⤷ user AND THEY SEE EACH OTHER EVERY DAY??? GOTTA BE!!!

oscarpiastri is this just your new thing to post random photos of me?

⤷ ynusername yeah pretty much

⤷ oscarpiastri great thanks

⤷ ynusername anytime 🙂‍↕️

user of all the photos of oscar she could've chosen, she used this one

⤷ oscarpiastri right

⤷ user OMG OSCAR ILY!!!

user am i the only one who doesn't believe the ynscar rumors?

⤷ user you aren't because it just doesn't make sense

⤷ user right like just because she started putting memes of him in her posts doesn't mean they are outright dating

logansargeant the view looks great!

⤷ ynusername its so gorjos! (you're not talking about oscar, right?)

⤷ logansargeant gorgeous, babe, and no, of course not (yeah, i might be)

⤷ ynusername (oscar isn't the view here!)

⤷ logansargeant (says who) (and why are we talking in parentheses)

⤷ ynusername (i don't know) (why are you talking in parentheses?)

⤷ logansargeant (i don't know, that's why i asked you)

⤷ ynusername (well i don't know either)

⤷ logansargeant (you've said)

⤷ user (what's going on?) (why did he call her babe???)

⤷ user (why are logan and yn talking?) (not on my 2024 bingo card)

⤷ user (well they both know oscar)

⤷ user (but he called her babe??)

user help all the replies to their comments being in parentheses as well 😭😭😭

user am i the only one who prefers yngan to ynscar

⤷ user nope!

⤷ user i love them so much, but it's probably unlikely and we don't see much interaction from them

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri and 3,408 others

ynusername pov you're max verstappen at miami and you look in your mirrors

view all 231 comments

user oh my god

user im speechless

user the soft launch with the meme of oscar was not on my list of things happening this season 😭

bsfusername you know you're never beating the rumors

⤷ ynusername sadly 😓😓😓

⤷ bsfusername okay but when was this tho

⤷ ynusername wdym 😋

⤷ bsfusername don't gaslight me

⤷ ynusername what's gaslighting???

⤷ bsfusername bitch.

⤷ user rumors? such as the ynscar rumors?

user logan in the likes?

⤷ user hes BEEN in the likes for a hot sc, you just couldn't see him lurking

oscarpiastri you're not coming to the next race

⤷ ynusername WHY NOT??? IM YOUR BIGGEST SUPPORT 🙏🏻

⤷ oscarpiastri support your boyfriend

❤️ by author + logansargeant

⤷ ynusername SHHHH!!!

user wait so oscar isn't her boyfriend?

user anyone see logan in the likes???

⤷ user gotta support the homie's girlfriend

⤷ user gotta

⤷ user they aren't dating 😭

user okay, but do we know FOR SURE oscar and yn are dating? they just seem like really close friends...?

⤷ user SOMEONE GETS IT

user real ones know that oscar and yn are childhood friends

ynusername has posted a story!

[caption: guys look at my uber driver 😢]

view all story replies

user PLEASE RESPOND TO THE RUMORS

user 1. you're dating oscar a. true b. false

user he doesn't even have the steering wheel 😭

ynusername 🤫

user oh my god im gonna faint, tell oscar and logan i love them

oscarpiastri you had the wheel

ynusername stupid, american cars amiright 🤣

oscarpiastri sure

ynusername okay no need for the attitude mr. im a formula 1 driver and am too cool for my BEST FRIEND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!

oscarpiastri go bother your BOYFRIEND

ynusername okay

ynusername ...

ynusername you're supposed to feel bad

oscarpiastri 😐😑😐

ynusername

liked logansargeant and 7,078 others

ynusername my american boy <3

view all 227 comments

user the random middle of the day hard launch

⤷ user but im not complaining

logansargeant my kangaroo <3

⤷ ynusername EXCUSE ME???

⤷ logansargeant 😊

⤷ ynusername okay american eagle

oscarpiastri finally putting an end to the rumours i see

⤷ ynusername well you weren't going to do it so someone had to

⤷ oscarpiastri i thought it was common knowledge that i had a girlfriend that wasn't you

⤷ ynusername osc...im gonna hold your hand when i tell you this

⤷ oscarpiastri dont touch me

user the sass from oscar 😭😭

⤷ user i know right😭🫣

logansargeant

liked by ynusername and 143,203 others

logansargeant i love my aussie side

view all 1,047 comments

user ON MY CELLULAR DEVICE???

oscarpiastri i thought i was your aussie side mate

⤷ logansargeant oh no, you are dw

⤷ ynusername probably why he put a picture of oscar in the hard launch

⤷ logansargeant you put one in the soft launch

⤷ ynusername fair point

user i was not expecting this (i was indeed expecting it)

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @kaa12 @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @nhlfs @beskardroids @hiireadstuff @sapphiccloud @lorenica @delululeclerc @c-losur3 @namgification @casperlikej @darleneslane @soamericn @decafmickey @tellybearryyyy @geniusalpaca @mel164 @littlegrapejuice @rylieverstappen-sargent @ahnneyong @ln4smiamitrophy @jiggly-puff-12 @jamieebuolos @ireadthensuetheauthors @jaasworld

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[byuntrash101]

still your biggest fan. – 송민기.

SYNOPSIS. your boyfriend is on the other side of the globe touring. somehow you fear the cheers of the fans will make him forget about you. so you decide to remind him you are still and will always be his biggest fan

or in which you find a novel way to use your lightstick and send the video to your beloved bf.

mingi x f!reader, smut, mdni

tags. etablished relationship, facetime sex, masturbation (f & m), BLACK UNDERCUT MINGI (!!!!!!!!), jealous + slightly possessive reader, but mingi reassures her (awwww), use of (unconventional) toys (wink wonk im insane pls stop me), pet names, multiple orgasms (f), praises, squirting. wc. 2k

a/n. this mingi has me feral and the concert videos got me in a chokehold. and it's only the first date i need help. also shout out to that one video of yungi saying they use the lightstick to "relax" at night. not proofread.

There was one thing that was absolutely certain about Mingi: that man loved attention. That man lived for the roars of the crowd. When he danced, he was electrified by the cheers of the fans. And you knew your boyfriend was made to be on stage. He enjoyed the attention of fans, hence the fact he was constantly body rolling, hip thrusting and tongue poking. He loved to see the thousands of people thirst for him, he loved looking at all the concert videos all over the internet. He laughed and giggled at the tiktok edits, at the twitter threads, at every comment more over the top than the next.

Usually you don’t mind, you even enjoy them too. You like seeing him happy and fulfilled in his job but today maybe you’re a little insecure. He just flew out to start the American leg of the tour and you’re left behind in this bed that seems so empty. You fear somehow the loud cheers will make him forget about you. You don’t want that. You want to remind him. You want to make sure that today when he goes to sleep the last thing he sees is you. 

You looked at the time, your eyes darted to the digital clock on your night stand. At this time he was probably already at the hotel. It was pretty late for you but you wanted to send him a little treat, you knew how Mingi loved when you sent him videos of you playing with yourself and today you might add a little twist. 

You didn’t have much time if you wanted him to see the video before he slept…

***

Mingi was spent, true. But he was still pumped full of adrenaline when he stepped out of the shower with the ends of his raven black hair wet, the longer strands of his undercut dripping down. He didn’t even bother stepping into his pajamas, the AC was off and this part of the world in July was pretty hot. 

He tucked himself in bed, still wide awake. He looked at his phone, a text from you from several hours ago when you went to bed. You were probably sleeping right now. He debated responding, fearing he would wake you. But he pictures you pouting when you’d wake up in a few hours without a response from him and he couldn’t bear to make you feel that way so he typed a quick answer. 

🎀 princess #2: hope the show goes well (ik it will because you gonna kill it cause you the best😌). i lob you. you know that right? dont forget about me ok? <33333333

👸princess minki (real): i could never baby i love you more. hope you have a great day and i miss you baby <3

then for a second the three little dots appeared and Mingi thought he hallucinated it. But then an other text appeared.

🎀 princess #2: i’ll always be your first and your biggest fan

Mingi didn't even have time to reply that he received a video file. He faintly gasped at the thumbnail. It was your legs spread out on his bed. The big play button in the middle of the frame though blocked out the most interesting part and he didn’t even breathe before he played the video.

He continued to hold his breath when he saw you rub your clit throught your white panties. He didn’t know how long you did played with yourself but your panties were completely see through. Your juices were sticking to your folds, the laces barely concealing you anymore. But still, he needed these damn panties out of the way. 

He wanted to see you. His hand found his cock on instinct, immediately palming his hardening bulge. And his prayers were answered. You pushed the panties to the side uncovering the most beautiful sight Mingi had ever layed eyes on. He exhaled a long sigh when long strings of slick connected you to the thin fabric of the underwear. How bad he wanted to be there, to stuff your soaked panties into your mouth while he thrusted his thick fingers into you. How bad he wanted to feel you twitch around him. How bad he wanted to hear his name fall from your quivering lips as he brought you to your peak. He wanted you so bad.

But then you grabbed hold of something, something that emitted light… The lightiny? Mingi’s jaw hung open when he saw you bring the handle to your center, rubbing it through your folds, coating it with your juices before bringing it up to your hard clit playing with a little, prying beautiful muffled sounds out of your mouth. Just to bring the handle down again, you took a firm grip of the rounded part and pushed the handle inside your trembling core. 

“Fuck” Mingi exhaled as he started pumping his balled fist around his now fully hard cock, he kicked the covers off him just to be able to jerk himself off without resistance. 

“Nghhh” you moaned quietly as you bottomed out. “M-Mingi are you watching?” As if you could see him, Mingi nodded vigorously, qmd you gave more purpose to the coming and going of his wrist. “Keep watching me. K-keep- fuck aaaah. Keep looking at me. I’ll make myself cum for you, ok?”

“Fuck yes baby I wanna see it all.” Mingi replied in a strangled breath, his hand going to play with balls, while his other hand held the phone incredibly close to his face. if he could have he would have gone through the screen and right into you. 

You started to slowly bounce on the lightstick. You were obviously already really worked up, your pussy was clenching down on the shiny copper handle and the light was perfectly shining on your hard clit, making it obvious that you were pretty close. Red and swollen, ready to explode. Just how he liked.

So you did. In a few seconds your thighs were trembling and your movement became uneven. You started to squirt small translucent spurts, one then two.

“Fuck baby you’re so fucking hot” Mingi breathed and pumped himself faster. 

You took the copper handle out and rubbed your clit in tight and fast circles, squirting more translucent liquid and soaking the sheets. Your center quivering around nothing. You slowed down with a sigh and the video stopped.

Mingi felt like he was going to sink into eternal darkness and despair if he didn’t see more of you right now. His cock was twitching in his strong fist, his cockhead was leaking so much precum he wanted you to see him too. He wanted you to know what you did to him.

So he pressed FaceTime. It rang once, twice then you picked up. You looked disheveled and short of breath. Fuck how fucking beautiful you were. Mingi wanted to kiss you all over this pretty face of yours.

“Why do you torture me?” he said a little more whiny than anticipated. 

He was so cute with wet hair and his eyebrows meeting on his forehead. He flipped the camera to show you his swollen cock, hard, red and leaking. You bit you lip at the mouth watering sight.

“I just wanted you to remember me. That's all.” you started, your hand finding your folds once again. “Remind you I will always be your biggest fan”

“Fuck how could I forget about you? Are you insane?” he breathed out, his voice sounded strained, in pain almost. You could only imagine how worked up he was and this urgency in his tone compelled you to find a new angle to the video call. You balanced it on the covers and your wet pussy and the mess you made came into view again.

“Fuckkkk” Mingi sighed again, trying his hardest not to be too loud. San was next door and the last thing he wanted was for him to bring up his little intimate session with you tomorrow at breakfast. “You’ve made such a mess. I usually hate it but God I’d give everything to sleep in the wet spot tonight”. You saw him jerk himself off faster, his thumb spreading the precum all over his tip and dragging it down his shaft. Squeezing the head the bring out even more and repeat it again. 

“Please show me again” he didn’t intend to sound so desperate but it couldn’t be helped because he in fact was that desperate for you. “Please show me how you fuck yourself with the lightiny”

“O-okay” You brought it back and stuffed it inside your clenching little pussy with a sigh, your other hand spreading your lips apart, making sure Mingi had the first raw VIP view of the show. 

“Fuckkkk” he whined again. “You’re so fucking nasty for me, doll”

You chuckled, knowing your little scheme had worked. You knew right now he was only thinking of you. Completely pussy drunk even though he was thousands of miles away.

“I wish it was you inside me right now, Mingming”

“Fuck me too baby” he said strangling his cock tighter, more precum oozing out again. He was close judging by the way he kept on twitching in his own hand. The sight urged you to bounce harder on the handle of the lightstick, your pussy clenching around it, gliding so smoothly in and out of you while your other hand kept on abusing your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Baby I-I’m close” he said, a certain rasp about his voice that was only giving more weight to his words. His fist was frantically moving along his cock, now mainly focussing on his tip, making the poor thing absolutely miserable: all wet and beet red, close to bursting.

“M-me too” you said,  feeling the familiar knot in the pits of your stomach approaching its rupture point. The premise of your orgasm manifested itself in the form of an other small sprut of transparent liquid “Nggghh fuck-” you gasped. “I’m c-cumming again” you whined, rubbing your clit faster, in thighter circles. You ripped the handle out of you and one big squirt came out of your abused little pussy, joining the existing mess in Mingi’s sheets. 

“Oh fuck baby” Mingi couldn’t peel his eyes of the screen. “Fuck baby me- Fuck… Me too” He watched as your thighs became weak and as your pretty little pusy gushed out more and more fluids. You were the hottest thing he’s ever seen. And he couldn’t possibly take it anymore. He let himself go. He abruptly stop stroking himself just to let the first big rope of cum sprout out of his slit and crash over his stomach. You moaned louder at the sight. He kept on stroking again, milking more delicious cum out of his twitching red cock, completely repainting his stomach with thick and white cum, grunting as his hips involuntarily thrusted upwards until it all stopped.

When he had caught his breath he approached the phone to show his stomach and scooped some of his spillage between his fingers. 

“Look what you did to me? Just cause you got a little jealous of the fans?” he chuckled.

“I did that?” you said appalled, “No you did that! Stop making me jealous and it won't happen again” He flipped the camera again and you couldn't help but to smile mindlessly at the screen. He was a complete wreck, sharp eyes half lidded, bottom lip swollen and red from being bitten and strands of black hair sticking to his forehead. This haircut made him ridiculously hot. A mischievous smirk pulled at his full lips.

“Or…” he trailed off. “I don't this stop and you make me dirty sexy videos after every show”

“Yeah” you said, sarcasm tinting your voice. “Let's see you do that! We’ll see how it goes when you came back” you challenged him. Your smile sent shivers down Mingi’s spine. He loved you but you definitely could be scary sometimes.

“You know what, I changed my mind. I'll just behave and you can reward me when I get home.”

want more? try my fic facetime ♡

SYNOPSIS. mingi has a small favor to ask you real quick.

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[itsthecline]

older chapter one

younger actress!reader x drew starkey smau

summary in which you and drew run into some fans and it only fuels the rumors

next chapter

ynupdates posted photos!

liked by starkeyluvr , tsitpfan and others

ynupdates got to meet y/n and drew when i was out last night! they were with the rest of obx cast and chris but i didn’t get to meet the all of them! y/n was so nice and drew is so hot i love my life

tagged yourusername drewstarkey

view all comments

username omfg omfg omfg

username i knew the casts became friends after hellraiser came out with y/n and drew but seeing it changes things

↳ username they were friends before hellraiser because lilah introduced them!

username are they dating?

↳ username goodbyeeeee men and women can be friends

username y/n living our dream

username first chris and now drew? seems like y/n is just trying to date whoever she can from work

yourusername ope— not the bad angle!☹️

↳ ynupdates omF I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR TAKING PICS AND TALKING TO ME I LOVE YOU DREW TOO OMFG

↳ yourusername i love you more<3 i loved being able to meet you!!!!

↳ yourusername drewstarkey found her!

↳ ynupdates you were talking about me?!?? OMFG IM SCREMAING

↳ drewstarkey hey!!! we found her!😁

↳ ynupdates OMFGG AGWIKWUS

username no bc why do i ship y/n with chris and drew at the same time??

username they have to be dating! i saw them hanging out alone last week!! i didn’t want to bother them because they were having dinner , but it didn’t look friendly!

↳ username i need to know everything

username i need season three of tsitp right neowwww

↳ username bc why do we have to wait so long😭

yourusername posted to their story!

drewstarkey replied to your story!

no photo credit is crazy

also a premiere throwback when the next season doesn’t come out until next year is ridiculous. you’re edging us at this point

ilydrwstrky tweeted!

the fact that y’all are saying there’s so many signs pointing to drew dating y/n is ridiculous! y’all are delusional and reaching atp. they met thru lilah ( her dad is drew’s boss and her coworker is y/n ) and so the two casts of tsitp and obx hang out. that’s it! y’all are sad!

35 replies | 107 retweets | 439 likes | 10 favorites

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↳ username i fear you’re being more delusional than the shippers queen

↳ username we’ve been over this people! stop shipping real human beings!

↳ username personally , i’m going to stay in my yndrew bubble while you stay jealous that drew’s never going to pick you

↳ username there’s so many threads on x alone that support and feed into the rumor of them being together , but i seriously hope not. they met when she was 19 and he was 27. did somebody say leo dicaprio?

an first chapter out. first social media fic out. so pls tell me u love it before i crash out💋

taglist @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

[felassan]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "To celebrate DA day, I've made a bluesky account that I'll keep active for a few days to talk about my work on Inqusition or Veilguard! After a few days I'll lock the account, because I'm not a social media person. Happy to talk until then though. I want to say straight off: the reception to Emmrich, Manfred, the Mourn Watch, and the Grand Necropolis has been heartwarming for all of us who worked on those people and places. Thank you all very much!" [source, two]

Rest of post under cut due to length and spoilers. [Post Two, Post Three]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "In the meantime, I do want to talk about a couple of things I saw floating around regarding Emmrich: 1. Emmrich being 52 or 50. I think people got 50 from data mining a character file, but we can't do a ranges in those files. As in, I couldn't input 50-60, it had to be a whole number. I put down 50 as an early ballpark, then went more accurate in later audition scripts. 2. Fifty-two is a old number I threw into an early document before his art or character was totally final. (And which caused another developer a headache because they thought it was accurate, I never updated it. Sorry about that.) 3. "Wait, how old is Emmrich then?" Once I saw his final character art, I felt more mid to late 50s. MAYBE early 60s. But unless we specifically state a character's age in the game, it's all malleable. I honestly would just adjust it to your impressions unless stated otherwise. 4. I've also seen comments on how weird it is for Emmrich to act like there's an age-gap in the romance if your Rook is around his age. And you're right. 5. The reason is because Rook WAS younger when those scenes were written and worked on. I felt it'd be odd if I never addressed the May-December aspect, especially as it hooks into some of Emmrich's worries. 6. By the time that shifted, it was really too late to change without catastrophic repercussions to the excellent cinematics and music and other things that depend on line delivery and timing. 7. To be clear: you can feel how you want about the age gap coming up at all! But that's how the discrepancy came about. 8. "Is there a way to reconcile Emmrich acting like my Rook is way younger than him if they're not?" Great question! I have several suggestions: -Accept it's an error. (True, but unexciting) -Emmrich considers a gap of 3-5 years scandalous. (Funny, albeit a bit cartoonish.) -The Mourn Watch has perfected swapping out organs, and Emmrich is nervously hiding that he's way older than he looks out of vanity. (Untrue, but funny.)" [source thread]

User in reply to point 6. above: "I'm personally glad it was too late to change because their argument about it is genuinely my favorite scene in the entire game! 😭💕 It's such an important moment to me" / Sylvia: "Thanks! That one was one where I was all sweatily trying to balance things out, with tone, with pacing, etc. Really glad it came together for you. (Cine and the actors did heroic things there to get it feeling just so!)" [source]

More snippets:

Emmrich's favorite ice cream flavor? Rum raisin [source]

Lots of people on the dev team shared the vision of having a bunch of gothic weirdness in that pocket of Thedas [source] (Necropolis/Nevarra)

Sylvia "especially liked writing the Mourn Watch origin, it was fun to write a fellow nerd for Emmrich to chat with" [source]

Sylvia poured some personal worries and fears into writing Emmrich [source]

On Vorgoth and their nature: "I'm a little leery of saying anything, partly because I'm cowardly avoiding publicly defining anything more until/if I ever need to. And partly because I did want them to be a fresh unknown. Sorry!" [source] "I'm glad you like Vorgoth, but I'm afraid I don't have much for you that isn't in the game. I deliberately wrote them so as to leave room, if we ever revisited them, or for Vorgoth to remain mysterious, if we did not. I'm sorry if that's not a very satisfying answer!" [source] "I will say, it was fun to throw in a few lines about Vorgoth's art collection. Their passion for it is sincere and deep. (I wanted all the Watchers to have a little non-death related hobby or interest, because they can be so singularly focused.)" [source]

Dwarven Mourn Watcher is a rare origin combo for Rook so Sylvia wanted to call it out [source]

On the outcomes of Emmrich's quest: "I tried really hard to make the options equally viable, and more up to the player's interpretation or preferences of what it would mean for Emmrich in their view. It's been interesting seeing reactions to it, which hinge sometimes on various single lines pushing people one way or another!" [source]

"The Grand Necropolis is always eager and ready for a new member of the Mourn Watch to grace its ranks." [source]

User: "I loved Emmrich's view on death and what his personal quest ultimately went on to say about the nature of death itself, and how the beauty of mortality lies in its impermanence and unpredictability." / Sylvia: "I really wanted to dig into those themes, and everyone in cine and art and level design and editing and the whole team honed in exactly on the vibe. The floral stuff especially, I was so thrilled when I played through the Memorial Gardens' with the art and lighting in." [source]

User: "I experience thanatophobia and that first conversation w/ Emmrich was so affirming and helped me describe my own anxiety to others" / Sylvia: "Thanks, the thanatophobia was, as you may've guessed, a personal experience for me too. I'm glad it was something that helped a little." [source] "I suspect that phobia is way more common than people think, and part of the reason Emmrich talks about it was to express that sentiment out loud. I find it helps sometimes just to acknowledge it." [source]

What languages does Emmrich speak other than Trade? "I think he'd be familiar with Tevene, since there's surely many, many old texts about magic written in that language. Kind of like a doctor that knows latin through their work. I also named that MW alphabet "tomb-script", though I'm not sure if it has a spoken component or not since it never came up in-game. If it does, he'd be able to speak that for sure." [source, two]

User: "Playing as a Mourn Watch Rook has been an absolute delight!!!" / Sylvia: "Thank you so much, I really liked writing those branches of the dialogue. Since Emmrich's so focused on necromancy, it was fun having a Rook who could be both casual and knowledgeable about it." [source]

User: "In your opinion, what outcome do you prefer for a romanced Emmrich (lich/non lich)?" / Sylvia: "Interesting question! To be honest, I'm afraid to answer it properly in case anyone takes my answer to be a canonical one. I really wanted either path to feel equally interesting/correct for whatever you decide fits your Rook's relationship with Emmrich. (We're also in the strange waters of meta-reasoning. I GAVE Emmrich his fear of death-Sorry Emmrich!-which makes me feel a little culpable for that, even though he's entirely fictional. And that might prey on my mind when trying to decide. A very odd experience!)" [source, two]

What music genres would Emmrich be into? "Classical music is very much playing to type for Emmrich, but I feel it's also correct. He'd enjoy a nice concerto or an organ recital. Or, if he's feeling daring, a bold new Orlesian opera! But I don't think his tastes are too outré in that area. That said, I saw someone post something like "Leave Emmrich alone, let him attend the Depeche Mode concert" while listening to Depeche Mode's "Violator", for the first time, which made me laugh. (Great album. If he could get over the shock of synths, Emmrich might enjoy "Waiting for the Night".)" [source, two]

When writing Emmrich the devs wanted to try and hit the gothic romance vibe [source]

Does Emmrich mix his own fragrance/cologne? Does he ever vary it by the season? "I think Emmrich goes to some of the many perfumers that have set up shop in Nevarra City around the Necropolis, just because he trusts their judgement and expertise. I hadn't considered him varying it by season, but that's very fun! I certainly think he has more than one bottle of scent." [source]

User: "How does Lich Emmrich have sex?" / Sylvia: "I don't mind the question! But my answer's a bit boring: I generally stay at arm's length on the more explicit romance stuff, just because if it's not stated or shown in-game, I don't want to bring in a canonical answer that might affect what people imagined. My general preference for romantic scenes that get physical is to leave blank space somewhere, so players can imagine what happens next. It's not the ONLY way to do it, I think there's legitimate artistic reasons to go more explicit. But that's how I approached Emmrich (and before him Josephine.)" [source, two]

User: "The scene with the fade glow where he touches your hand haunts me in the best way" / Sylvia: "Aw thank you. Our animators and audio people made that scene way better than I could've hoped! They took such care with everything there. I want to say that little eye-peep from Rook was added in by one of them, which was the perfect touch." [source]

User on Emmrich: "i’m curious whether you think he’d prefer dogs or cats (or both, or neither)" / Sylvia: "I think he'd consider cats and dogs a little too noisy and messy for his tastes. Not like a nice, quiet plant or skeleton! (Weirdly, I actually had a scrap of banter going over this exact subject at one point. It got tightened down to the exchange with Harding about the pig he used to hug when he was a kid.)" [source, two]

Sylvia was trying to tease Nevarra with the Tevinter Nights story Down Among the Dead Men [source]. "It was really fun to tease the Necropolis, so to speak, in TN, and I'm grateful we got to actually let players through its gates at last." [source]

User: "if Rook chooses to save Manfred and keep Emmrich mortal, what would Emmrich wish to become of his body once he did pass on?" / Sylvia: "Good question. I think he'd want to remain active and useful in death. A guide for other Mourn Watchers, or posted as a mystic guide somewhere dangerous, or perhaps an oracle in the library." [source]

User: "when and how was it decided that Emmrich would be romanceable? I remember reading that he would not be a romance option." / Sylvia: "I'm not sure where that came from, because I pitched him and then shortly after that we decided the entire cast was romanceable. That was fairly early on in the development of Veilguard, as I recall it. (Could've been a crossed wire?)" [source]

Trick Weekes: "Sylvia wrote the fantastic Emmrich "the Vol-carnage" Volkarin and everything that happens in Nevarra while dealing with a lead writer whose attitudes about corpses and undead are... not dissimilar from Taash's." [source] / Sylvia: "I still remember when you gave the very accurate feedback "I think we need to give players whose Rooks aren't into corpses some roleplaying choices to express this" and I was all "Ohhh yeaaaaaah." (Thank u Trick, you were right)" [source] / Trick: "Specifically, being able to express this without locking themselves out of the content! (For non-Sylvia folks) Given my issues with corpses, Emmrich as a whole was SUPER Not For Me, so I gave one caveat and then said, "For the rest of my critique, I will be impersonating his target audience." [source]

Sylvia on the secret origins of Manfred: "After I pitched Emmrich, I started jotting down notes and thoughts on his plots, his quirks, all that kind of stuff. It was very early on Veilguard, anything was still possible. We were chatting in the writer's room about it one day, and I think we'd just seen some early concept art for Emmrich. And our lead writer Trick Weekes joked that Emmrich looked like a man who'd have a skeleton named Manfred. And I laughed and went "Yeah he does!" And then I thought about it. It's wild in retrospect, but that one comment spurred a train of thought that led to the core of Emmrich's arc. He may've ended up a very different character without it! tl;dr: I stole it from Trick." [source, two, three, four]

"I got to play with a pretty free palette when defining the way Emmrich and the necromancers view death and spirits. But I tried to keep it within the confines of existing lore. That's one reason why that scene where Emmrich talks about Manfred to Harding goes into "the eternal question" of whether a soul actually returns with the dead or not. Nevarra has distinct beliefs, but I thought it'd be interesting if its people argue over their interpretations of those beliefs." [source, two]

"the other writers also suggested a bit later on that the big choice dig more into Emmrich's philosophies. Initially, it was more personally focused on his fears, which made it 'relatable' but pettier. Without that correction, I think it would've been weaker, I totally needed the team push." [source]

"I have a few guides to graveyard symbology, and it's so packed with references and meaning." [source]

User: "Did any of your own fears & experiences, make it into the writing of Emmrich? If yes, is it information you’re comfortable sharing with us? If it’s too personal to give any details, that’s fine as well. Also, across the other games, who do you think Emmrich will get along with best?" / Sylvia: "some of his fears are absolutely personal. The reflexive-compulsive panic over death is something I'm very familiar with, and I wanted to explore that through him. Because I suspected it was not uncommon, and worth examining. The question of who he'd get along with from the other games is surprisingly tough! Because without asking the other writers about their characters, I wouldn't know for sure. So I can only really speak to Josephine with surety. That said: -I think Josephine would be polite, and grow to like him, but would never entirely be over the ostentatious necromancy. -I think Emmrich meeting Sera would be the funniest match." [source, two, three]

"Peter Cushing was also one of my go-tos as an example of what I wanted Emmrich to be." [source]

"(Huge shout out to all the animators and level designers making Manfred run, quite literally. Like 95% of his personality lives in his movement, I think they nailed it.)" [source]

On Emmrich: "I tried to put a lot of passion and sincerity in his love for the dead, and I admit the Necropolis was THE big place I wanted to see in Thedas myself ever since reading about it in a codex." [source]

User: "Thank you for letting him have that cemetery dream date!" / Sylvia: "Having the date in the cemetery was one of the first things I wanted when thinking about the romance." [source]

"Josephine was the first time I was entrusted with a new character and a new romance at once, and that'll always be special to me." [source]

User: "How much input did you have in Emmrich's appearance in the podcast?" / Sylvia: "In the podcast, none myself. I believe it was handled by a third party but reviewed by a few people at BW, I don't know too much past that. (We did provide a descriptor and character rules. Stuff like "Emmrich never swears" and "always says amongst" and broader, more thematically useful things.)" [source]

User on Emmrich: "Are you planning any other external-media stories for him?" / Sylvia: "Thanks very much, The Flame Eternal has a special place in my heart for being the first time Emmrich got to be center stage in a story. (And very flattering to hear about the cross stitch. That's so cool!) I can't speak to any external-media plans, I'm afraid. That's not an implied hint about anything existing or not, it's just literally outside what I'm allowed to chat about. It'd be fun to do something like that again though!" [source, two]

"I must give full credit to Nick Borraine, Emmrich's voice actor. He got the compassion and tenderness the character needed right away." [source]

"And glad him being closer to your age resonated, I really wanted someone older out on an adventure. No reason that has to stop at any age IMO." [source]

User: "do the mourn watcher/nevarra in general raise their pets after they die to keep them around? like a dog skeleton with a whisp in it?" / Sylvia: "To be honest I hadn't thought out this one, but it's a very good question. I'm not sure how common that would be, or even if it's permitted to have pets running around the family crypt. (I definitely thing people would WANT to do it.) You know, I think I'm going to have to leave this one in the vague quantum foam of the future. I think I'd want to not only double check existing lore, but answer that in-game (or in a book or etc.) if we ever need to. (Hope that's not too much of a cop out. Sometimes I like to leave questions I'm not sure about alone, because until it's in an official game or story, it doesn't quite count.)" [source, two, three]

User: "as someone who shares emmrich's anxiety about mortality, getting to spend time with him, and in the grand necropolis and with the mourn watch, was genuinely soothing" / Sylvia: "Thank you, I'm glad he was a comfort. It's a familiar fear for me too, and I'd hoped he would connect that way with people very much." [source]

On the giant ribcage 'ceiling' in the Necropolis: "sadly, even I don't know all the mysteries of the Necropolis. (Which is to say it's a very cool bit of art but has no stated origin yet. Could be a large dragon, a giant...or something weirder!)" [source]

On TN story Luck in the Gardens: "It was nice change up, writing in first person and with someone so rascally. I've got an enduring affection for the Lords after writing Hollix, the scamp." [source]

User: "I just love his genuine enthusiasm for everything he does. If the other party members had fan clubs Emmrich would be the president of each and I love that for him" / Sylvia: "Thank you! I really wanted him to embody a kind of expansiveness and generosity of spirit, to stand in contrast to the eeriness of his abilities." [source]

User: "What was your inspiration for Josie?" / Sylvia: "My girl! When I came on to Inquisition, there'd already been work done on setting up the spine of the main plot, and figuring out the overall cast. But one of the advisors was a little murkier. It just said "Diplomat" on the white board. We knew we wanted someone in that position, but not who. So in a game where you were out exploring, killing demons, etc., but also had a big organization to run? I immediately wanted to make a Diplomat firmly there for you. Somebody you could hand the keys to the entire Inquisition to while you were out, and know it'd be in good hands. I also thought it'd be fun to have someone from Antiva, since that area wasn't covered yet by anyone in the cast. And I needed her to be polished, smooth, but heartfelt, because of that aforementioned trust. And that was the core of Josephine! Her voice actor, Allegra, brought her to life with such lovely charm, and hearing those early sessions also helped me further hone her tone." [source, two, three, four]

"Our music supervisor Ron Dazo hit it out of the park with Emmrich's music IMO. And so glad you liked Hezenkoss! Just very fun to write as a character." [source]

User: "Did any specific watcher raise MW Rook?" / Sylvia: "Good question! I kind of left that one alone because I wasn't sure if I wanted to let Rook define that themselves, or leave it open, and also I'd have wanted a full conversation on it. In the end that was a little out of scope so I left it unsaid. Which is to say that it COULD be Vorgoth who helped raise your Rook. And that stands until/unless we give a definitive answer (or let you choose from a range of answers) one day." [source, two]

"It was such a pleasure for all of us to finally get to explore the Necropolis, I am very glad we got to throw open the gates." [source]

User: "I was wondering if there were any Mourn Watch details you wished you had more time to explore? I was so struck by some of the ethical implications in your stories" / Sylvia: "Geeze, now that's a question. I mention it with Emmrich, but there's some resentment over the power the Watchers hold as THE mortalitasi of the Grand Necropolis, between them and the other orders. There's something to that situation I liked. There's also questions of how they select people for the order. What their standards are, how closely they work with benign spirits. And how they cultivate those relationships. How deep does that go? I also mentioned in a codex "the lives and bodies of those who tamper with the undead of the Necropolis are forfeit unto the Mourn Watch." which is pretty chilling. What's that punishment like, exactly? And in general, writing about anything weird or unexplained in the Necropolis brought me much enjoyment, and it would be fun to dig around how the Mourn Watch deals with (or what they want out of) all these mysteries and entities." [source, two, three, four]

"Geeking out with Emmrich about spooky stuff was a delight to write." [source]

"I liked writing someone older this time, it was something different for me and rewarding in some unexpectedly different ways. (And thanks especially for the nice words on DAtDM - I was very excited to introduce people to the Mourn Watch there!)" [source]

"Ah, tomb-script. I named it but it was our concept artists who went developed it with the hexagon shape-language of the Mourn Watch, which I loved. Conceptually: I think it's used purely an occult or sacred language. Something for the graves, or books on magic, but not everyday things." [source]

"Some trans people kindly offered their help with some feedback on some of the romance lines and others, which absolutely made them much better." [source]

"Trick Weekes actually wrote a ton of the banter where Emmrich inquires into qunari artifacts and customs, and Taash talks about what it was like to grow up under a scholar. I really dig the dynamic they unearthed between the two there." [source]

[regulus-lantsov]

⁺｡˚⋆˙Imagine being named like a tank ? | OP81⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: Charles Leclerc x iceskater!user ( she her ),

genre: social media au,

warnings: Cursing, overuse of the word bitch 'affectionate' , Charles getting bullied

summary: in which Charles is getting bullied by his best friend but doesn't care because he is a simp

fc: Evgenia Medvedeva

instagram ->

liked by pierregasly, alexandratrusova and many others

yourusername : Imagine being the sidekick of your dog ? Lame I would neeever. Happy birthday idiot, bitch or whatever

tagged : charles_leclerc

pierregasly : 🍿​🍿

charles_leclerc : Pierre ?? You are supposed to support me ?? pierregasly : sorry but Leo is pretty cool

charles_leclerc : Day 100 342 or getting bullied by my best friend ...

yourusername : Imagine being lame and counting the days where your incredible best friend dedicace a whole fucking thread for your ? charles_leclerc : Imagine swearing on your Instagram account ? I would never yourusername : Blocked.

user7 : A friendship like that pretty please :)

user6 : A friendship ??? Let's be for real man. If something he is just a pathetic one trying to get in yn pants user7 : Gross, that's people like you that makes boy and girl friendship impossible

lando : Quit being his best frend I am looking for one

yourusername : If you quit being akward around Oscar charles_leclerc : Back off, I called dibs first oscarpiastri : Why am I brought into this ? lando : Nevermind

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, pierregasly and many others

charles_leclerc : Imagine being so lame that you show your best friend on live TV after getting silver ??? Could never be me

tagged : yourusername, alinazagitova

yourusername : BITCH

yourusername : Imagine being so lame that you can't even put a single step on the ice ???

sebastianvettel : I guess she roasted you charles_leclerc : SEBASTIAN ? YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE sebastianvettel : Sorry I don't know how to reply to a comment, Pierre didn't tell me how to. charles_leclerc : Okay fair enough charles_leclerc : WAIT NO WHAT

user1 : Pretty pretty pretty

charles_leclerc liked this comment

user2 : Charles is way much stronger than I am

user8 : When he is roasting you on Internet >>>>

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandratrusova, lando and many others

yourusername : When your best friend ask you to go with him to the FIA awards so you accept because you can gossip with pierregasly and georgerussell

tagged : pierregasly, georgerussell, dior and charles_leclerc

pierregasly : Yes yes yes gossip time

georgerussell : 🍵​🍵​ yourusername : I'll be so british and sip the tea

charles_leclerc : Lame ass you begged me to be my plus one

lando : Can I gossip ?

yourusername : No we are gossiping about yo and Oscar oscarpiastri : Once again why am I brought there ?

user19 : HOT AS HELL

user : Rocking Dior more than anyone rocked Dior

Twitter ->

Instagram ->

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and many others

charles_leclerc : Okay, well perhaps she is my girlfriend ... At least she wears red

Ferrari : She'll get Pr training

yourusername : I'll not charles_leclerc : If my girl don't want it then she won't do it <3

yourusername : AHA LAME GIRLFRIEND APPRECIATION LOSER

charles_leclerc : I am breaking up with you pierregasly : NO I WON'T DO 10 YEARS OF PINNING AGAIN

user3 : Pierre has suffered from it

user9 : Do I want to be her or be with her ?

yourusername : Now Lando and Oscar you kiss please

lando : BITCH SHUT UP oscarpiastri : ???

liked by pierregasly, alexandratrusova, oscarpiastri and others

yourusername : Yeah well apparently I have a boyfriend

tagged : charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc : See how she treats me ? Not a single picture were we see my face ?

yourusername : I just date you for Leo duh not your lame face charles_leclerc : Okay, I see how it is next race I'll go and kiss Pierre instead pierregasly : I am waiting babygirl charles_leclerc : .... Yn save me

oscarpiastri : My brother and mother >>>> my father

charles_leclerc : Will someone ( not Pierre ) stand with me ? lando : No <3

yourusername : I love you, I guess. Ugh.

charles_leclerc : Someone screenshot that

user6 : so cute

[reiding-writing]

Hey queenie 😝 I LOVE ur stuff and i was just wondering if we could get some more cold!reader being a big ol’ softie when it comes to spencerrr! Love uuuuuu 💗😘

SOFT-SERVE — SPENCER REID!

spencer reid hates germs. so why should he have to deal with them?

spencer reid x cold!reader | 1.4k | fluff | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — we’re broaching romanceeeee

You stand there, eyes scanning the bustling scene in front of you, your arms crossed tightly against your chest as you keep your distance.

There’s nothing new about it — you’ve always preferred the edges, the corners, the spaces where you can observe without truly engaging. Detached, maybe, but it’s how you function. How you cope. You’re good at it. You have to be.

The others are busy doing what they do best, wrapping up the loose threads with officers and family members to round out the case.

Spencer is deep in conversation with one of the local detectives, his voice calm but urgent, a rare mix of focused intelligence and careful consideration that you both admire and feel detached from. You’ve never needed the sort of constant back-and-forth that he thrives on, but you can’t deny the way his presence grounds you.

It’s something you won’t admit aloud, but it's there. Underneath your cool, stoic exterior. A fact that's wrapped up so tightly inside of you, it's almost like a secret.

And right now, as Spencer shakes hands with the detective, you can’t help but feel a little tug of concern. You might be indifferent on the outside, but you know one thing about Spencer—the man hates germs. You’ve seen it, observed it from a distance, and maybe, it’s part of why you’ve made it your mission to take care of him, even if you don't show it in obvious ways.

As the handshake comes to an end, Spencer wipes his palm against his trousers, a subtle wince on his face. It’s a small gesture, but you know exactly what it means. He’s freaking out inside.

Without a second thought, you slip your hand into the front pocket of your jacket, pulling out the familiar bottle of hand sanitiser.

You can almost hear his internal monologue as he stands there, awkwardly fumbling with his own hands, trying to rid himself of the perceived contamination. You know it’s not even the detective’s fault — it’s just the way Spencer is. A man of brilliant intellect with an almost paralysing aversion to germs.

You don’t speak a word as you approach him, holding his hand flat upwards, your fingers cool and detached as you squirt a generous amount of sanitiser into his palm.

“Here,” you say, your voice smooth, unaffected. Detached. He looks up at you with a grateful expression that’s as close to warmth as he’ll allow himself to show in public. You try not to notice how the soft smile on his face makes something inside of you shift, like an ice cube melting in the sun.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, not bothering to hide his relief. You watch as he rubs the sanitiser into his palms, a small sigh of satisfaction escaping his lips.

Morgan, who had been observing from a distance, walks up with a smirk on his face. You already know he’s about to make a comment, and you're not wrong.

“You’re carrying sanitiser around now?” Morgan chuckles, his eyes flicking between you and Spencer. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve become Reid’s butler,”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a faint trace of a smile tugging at your lips, a rare moment of softness. “Someone’s got to do it,” you reply coolly, but it’s clear that Morgan isn’t buying your act. He knows you better than that.

“Sure, sure,” Morgan continues, grinning. “Cold as ice on the outside, but you’re just a big softie when it comes to pretty boy, huh?”

You meet his gaze, your expression as impassive as ever, but your heartbeat betrays you. Morgan can see through you. He always has. You’ve never been able to fully hide your feelings around him.

“You’re imagining things, Morgan,” you respond, but your voice lacks its usual edge. You turn away before he can press further, your heart racing for reasons you refuse to acknowledge.

You’d like to think you’re doing just fine. Detached, cool, untouchable. But Spencer, with his nervous little quirks and brilliant mind, has a way of slipping past all your carefully constructed walls. And you can't explain it. Not to yourself. Not to anyone else.

The rest of the team continues working, and you stand back, keeping your distance. But your eyes keep drifting to Spencer. To the way he talks to the others, his hands making subtle gestures as he speaks, his brow furrowing in concentration, the way his hair falls slightly over his eyes. You’ve always noticed these little things, even though you don’t let anyone else see how much they affect you.

Spencer catches your gaze for a moment, offering you a small, almost shy smile, and something inside of you tightens. You could look away. You could easily turn your attention elsewhere. But you don’t.

You don’t.

It’s this unspoken understanding between you and him, one that doesn’t need words. He’s smart, too smart sometimes, and maybe that’s why you never have to pretend with him. He doesn’t need you to be warm. He doesn’t need you to be soft, even though he’s the one who brings that side of you out more than anyone else ever could.

But just for today, just for this one moment, you allow yourself to feel the soft spot you’ve carved for Spencer, the one that only he seems to get to touch. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself, a quiet shield against the world.

He notices, of course. He always does. But today, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. He just watches you with a knowing look in his eyes — that look that says he understands you, even when you don’t think anyone can. It’s why you find yourself caring more than you’d like to admit.

The day wears on, the team moves forward, and Spencer remains the same, cool and collected on the outside but slightly less so as he avoids shaking anyone else's hand.

You don’t say anything to him; you don’t need to. You’ve already done what you could. You’ve already taken care of him in the only way you know how — quietly, without fanfare, without needing any thanks or attention for it.

Later that evening, when the team is headed back to the jet, you find yourself walking next to Spencer. The others are further ahead, talking in their usual, easygoing way. But you and Spencer, you keep to the edge, where the silence between you is comfortable, a little less heavy than it was before.

Spencer’s voice breaks the silence. “Hey, I really appreciate what you did back there,” he says softly. You can feel his gaze on you, but you don’t look at him. You keep your eyes forward, as always.

“It’s no big deal,” you reply, your voice indifferent, but there’s a softness in your tone that you can’t completely hide.

Spencer lets out a quiet laugh. “It kind of is, though,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Thank you,”

You don’t respond immediately. You don’t have to. The words hang in the air between you, unspoken, but understood. Maybe you’re not as cold as you pretend to be. Maybe there’s a warmth in you that only Spencer can bring out.

But for now, you don’t need to say anything. It’s enough that you’re here together, walking through the quiet night, your steps synchronised and his fingers brushing against your thigh.

For the first time in a long while, you allow yourself the luxury of imagining what it might be like, to let Spencer all the way in.

But for now, you let him stay at arm’s length, even as your heart warms to the idea.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ all yours, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ��⠀┉⠀summary: nyla's latest single is making waves. the audience has questions for her elusive boyfriend, joe burrow.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: requested by an anon! i felt bad about not being able to finish the joe/tee fic, so i made this. wanted to try something different so i went the smau route, hope you like it <3 this is somewhere between y/n & oc, think of nyla as a stage name i guess lmao

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x r&b singer!oc [fc: lori harvey].

nylaupdates just posted .ᐟ

liked by nyla and 26,726 others

nylaupdates: "all yours", the first single from nyla's third upcoming studio album releases at 12am eastern time tonight.

view all 297 comments

user1 REAL vocalists are back!! 🤭

user2 this cover??????

user3 oh skin is tea! -> user4 i see that la roche posay check hit 🙂‍↕️

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nyla added a photo to her story .ᐟ

[caption: "all yours" is now all yours 🤎]

view story replies.

joeyb_9: lyrics 💯🤎 -> nyla: do we have a fav line?

joeyb_9: this kitty got that midas touch... sounds familiar -> nyla: inspired by a little something you might have said once or twice

joeyb_9: i cannot be held responsible for what i say under your influence -> nyla: whatever u say joey 🤎

lahjay10_: mm ah mm ah 😁 -> nyla: mm ah mm ah 😁

jjettas2: i have a question. ✋🏾 -> nyla: no 🤎

jjettas2: could you please explain what i did to deserve such an explicit description of one of my best friend's sexual abilities?

jjettas2: love the song btw 🤟🏾

jjettas2: been bumpin it since this morning ngl

jjettas2: broooooo i just seen you add another post to your story 😑

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nyla just posted .ᐟ

liked by renee_downer, justineskye, and 836,927 others

nyla: familiar.

view all 4,473 comments

user11 maam we have to discuss those lyrics -> user12 clock it! cus "make it icin'"??? MAKE WHAT?!

ryandestiny stunna -> nyla 💎💎

jjettas2 album when -> jjettas2 miss big time can't respond huh -> user13 my goat is in his bsf gf's comments begging for a response 😒 -> nyla smh 😮‍💨 they don't make 'em like they used to... -> jjettas2 😐

joeyb_9 very familiar -> nyla gang -> user14 this man ain't even like the pic but somehow... here he is... 2 mins after she posted... -> user15 LMAO down horrendous -> user16 this is romance. -> user14 idk what's worse: the fact that he was here immediately, or the fact that it took him 2 mins to come up with "very familiar" -> user16 def the second one 😭

teehiggins album when 🫢 -> nyla soon soon soon -> jjettas2 man fuck yall

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joeyb_9 just posted .ᐟ

liked by nyla, realgrantdelpit, and 762,937 others

joeyb_9: offseason in paris

view all 3,882 comments

user17 just fell to my knees in the walmart parking lot

user18 😍😍😍

user19 what a handsome young man ☺️

nyla "serving offseason realness" -> joeyb_9 ? -> user20 LMAOOOO

user21 nyla i understand i really really do -> user22 she may tell you a joke... -> user23 but NEVER A LIE!!

user24 goo goo ga ga -> nyla girl-

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nyla just posted .ᐟ

liked by joeyb_9, gigihadid, and 1,297,581 others

nyla: familiar, july 17th.

view all 10,294 comments

user25 did she just? -> user26 name her album after that fuckass thread? yes. -> user27 cryingggggg

jjettas2 i've been waiting for times like this 🤌🏾 -> user28 she's not gonna respond bro -> user29 he's just tryna get noticed 😔 -> nyla 🤷🏾‍♀️ -> jjettas2 you know what...

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joeyb_9 just posted .ᐟ

liked by bengals, nyla, and 726,048 others

joeyb_9: icing on the cake 🍒

view all 3,972 comments

user36 what did he sayyyyy?

user37 i have no one to talk about this with

user38 jump fuckin' scare -> user39 he's so unserious

user40 just casually dropping that cute ass pic... okay then 👍 -> user41 asf

nyla my man? my man. my man! -> jjettas2 7 stages of grief ass comment -> nyla ykw buy your own tickets to the tour -> user42 TOUR???? -> nyla international ✈️✈️✈️ -> jjettas2 fuck the tour, you choose to respond now? cool smd -> joeyb_9 🥴 -> nyla 🫶🏾

[yelenasbraid]

home to me — joe burrow

summary — bengals are now 0-3, and joe couldn’t feel worse about it. luckily, you’re there to help pick up his broken pieces

warnings — fem!reader, major angst, fluff, crying joey (SORRY)

note — surprise! and don’t come after me!

YOU WATCH WITH AN ACHING HEART the last 4 seconds of the game. you wished so badly for a miracle, for an interception, for something to turn that 33 into anything higher than a 38. offense looked great, defense? you could do better than they did without the padding.

that was your bitterness talking.

you filed out of the stadium and down to where you usually met joe; outside the locker room. you knew that this wasn’t going to be the celebration you hoped for. you knew that joe wasn’t going to have that boyish grin on his face, and it broke your heart. you felt like you haven’t seen joe smile in weeks.

you stood there, anxiously swaying as you watched player after player shuffle in from the field. those who noticed you gave you a small, sad smile. others kept going, angry at themselves and at the world.

joe appeared at the end of the crowd of players, as he usually did, with his head down. his shoulders sagged, but it wasn’t until he looked up and locked eyes with you that you saw everything.

joe was devastated, and rightfully so.

he parted from the staff member and walked over to you, a small pep in his step as he did so. no words were spoken as he threw his arms around you, bringing you as close as he could get you. you embraced him back, cradling his head as he nuzzled into your neck.

he’s never done this before, even after a win. for joe to express this level of emotion right after a game was unusual. it worried you, but maybe you were overthinking. you hoped you were.

joe separated from you, sniffling and keeping the tears at bay. you held onto his hands and watched him with a worried eye.

“i’m fine,” he answered your silent question. you knew he wasn’t, and he knew that you knew. that much was obvious.

“ok,” you hummed, but that’s all you were going to say right now. you didn’t believe him, and he knew that. joe gave you a single look, his eyes opening a gateway into his heart, the depth of his sadness. he was beating himself up, and pretty badly too.

“i might be a minute, go on home. i’ll see you later,” he told you. driving separately wasn’t abnormal, sometimes you had to. especially if it was an away game. what was odd was the way he seemed to stick around, unable to move his feet.

“ok, i love you,” you reminded him. his face softened, letting your words permeate through the tension in his chest. he just needed to make it through the press conference.

“i love you,” he replied. he gave you a lingering kiss on the forehead before he stepped away. he didn’t want to, though. he wanted to stay where it was safe, where it was comfortable. he wanted to stay with you because he didn’t have to explain himself. somehow, you always knew.

—

you were showered and in your pajamas by the time joe got home. you sat on the couch, blanket draped over your legs and your phone in your hands. you saw the comments, the videos of disappointed fans. you saw the posts all about how much of an upset the loss was. the more you read on, the more you realized that the fans didn’t think joe was at fault. they’d be right, it wasn’t his fault.

your eyes flicked up from your phone as joe made his way further into the house. his footsteps are heavy, as is the rest of his body. he’s exhausted, and there’s only a thread keeping him from falling apart.

“babe?” you called out to him, and he slowly turned his eyes towards you. his eyes were puffy, his face was red; did he cry in the car on the way home? silence met your questioning tone, but it did stop him in his tracks.

usually after a bad game, or a loss, joe needed space. he’d trudge up to his office and stay there for a few hours, pouring over film and noting strategies they needed to try next time. he was still going to do those things, but tonight was different. you knew it was the second he hugged you like he did after the game.

“i’m fine,” he replied, his voice breaking. joe didn’t like crying, in fact, he hated it. but he grew used to it, learning that just because he cried didn’t mean he was any less or he was weak. it took him a while for him to trust you with that vulnerability, but once he did, the flood gates couldn’t be locked tight for long.

“you’re not,” you hummed softly. he knew he wasn’t, and he wasn’t trying hard enough to hide it. he screwed his eyes shut, trying to make the tears go away, but all it did was make his eyes burn more.

“don’t run away from me, don’t shut me out,” you stood up from your spot on the couch, slowly walking over to him. he was battling himself as he stood there, tears sliding down his raw cheeks. his mind was waging a war against him, telling him lies about himself and about how he played.

“why?” he asked you.

“why what?”

“i’ve lost three games, and i’ve treated you horribly after two of them. why are you still with me?” he voiced his vulnerability, his fear. his heart told him you wouldn’t leave him because of a losing streak, but the malicious whispers in his mind told him a different story.

“one, you apologized to me and we talked about it,” you started, “secondly, joey, i’m still with you because you are the love of my life. you’re there to pick me up when i’m down, you’re able to make me laugh, you’ve helped me put pieces of myself back together that you didn’t break in the first place. you’re protective, and you’re a fighter, that’s why i’m with you and will always be with you,” you finished, peering into his eyes. you saw your words sink in and start to meld him back together, but it wasn’t enough.

“i’ve lost three games, three. no matter how hard i fight, no matter how well i think i did, i can’t seem to win a damn game!” joe spoke through gritted teeth, his hands going through his hair. he’s frustrated, he’s angry, and he’s beating himself up. he’s not blaming the team, he’s blaming himself.

“all of these people, all of the fans, you, i’ve disappointed them. i’ve disappointed you, i promised myself that i was going to bring home a superbowl ring, for both of us, and if we keep losing-”

“stop, joey,” you interrupted his spiral with a soft hand to his chest. he’s panting, out of breath from the amount of anxiety he’s giving himself.

“listen to me, look at me,” you tilt his chin so his eyes meet yours, feeling the soft starts of scruff against your finger tips, “you did not disappoint me, and you most certainly didn’t disappoint the fans watching you tonight. you played well, you made decisive plays, you were quick to release the ball. you did your job and did it well. and you will get that super bowl ring, i believe that, and so do you. you’ve beat the odds before, you’ve showed the world to never underestimate joe burrow, the small town kid from athens, ohio. so, show them again. show them what this kid can do,” you went on, shining light on the things that made joe joe.

“i’ve failed that kid,” he whispered, afraid to say it out loud. he’s fought so hard his whole life, and he still fought. joe’s never given up and he doesn’t plan on it, but the anger hasn’t settled in yet. the vengeance hasn’t taken root yet.

“no, no love you didn’t, you haven’t. you didn’t fail him when you tore your acl, you didn’t fail him when you went to the superbowl, you didn’t fail him when you went to the afc championship, you didn’t fail him amidst the injuries and the doubts. that kid would do anything to play football, and that’s exactly what you’re doing,” you told him, cradling his cheek with your hand. you could see the crack in his hard exterior, the way his blue eyes showed the depths of his soul. you could see glimpses of baby joey, the anxiety that ran deep, that threatened to take hold.

when joe looked at you, that anxiety slithered away. it tucked its tail and ran; you were his god given solace. he felt at home, he felt the warmth and the safety that radiated off of you.

“what did i do to deserve you?” he asked, melting into your touch.

“absolutely nothing,” you replied. you took his hand, guiding him back to the couch. you sat down, resting your back against the arm rest. you didn’t have to offer him, joe just found himself laying against your chest, his arms wrapped around you. you wrapped your arms around him, kissing the top of his head and threading your fingers through his frosted tips.

“i’m so proud of you, you know that?” you asked.

“i do,” he replied. he melted into you, relaxing against the feeling of your fingers against his scalp and your steady heartbeat in your chest.

“panthers don’t stand a chance,” he mumbled against your chest, making you laugh.

“show em who’s boss, baby,” you chuckled. joe would always come home to you, which wasn’t always physically. sure, home was a place, but it was also a person. you were his home, and he was home as long as he was with you.

i wrote this in one sitting!!! it took some editing and some rethinking, but i’m pretty proud of it! this may not be totally accurate joe but whatevs. enjoy this lovely, angsty piece!

[norrisainz33]

Southern belle || CL16

☆ summary: charles’ and oscar’s rumored girlfriend is the it girl in country music and with the austin grand prix approaching fans wonder if they’ll finally know who she’s with

☆ pairing: charles leclerc x american!singer!reader

☆ fc & warnings: megan moroney and slightly suggestive - you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: yes!! thank you for this request 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

liked by sabrinacarpenter, charlesleclerc, oscarpiastri, patriciooward, formula1, arianagrande and 301,356 others

ynuser: huge announcement 🚨 i’m singing the national anthem at the austin grand prix!!! i can’t wait to see y’all there but in the meantime, i’m practicing my driving 🏎️🤍

view all 364 comments

user1: ohhhhhh my god yessss

user2: everyone peep both oscar and charles in the likes…..

user22: begging for new music queen 😭

formula1: quick someone get her seat on the grid

ynuser: put me in coach!

scuderiaferrari: you’re always welcome to join us for the weekend 😉

mclarenf1: or you can join us 🧡

user4: taking note of both ferrari and mclaren being here 💀

user3: MY FAV ARTIST AT MY FIRST GP?! IT DOESNT GET BETTER THAN THIS

patriciooward: see you there princessa

ynuser: can’t wait 🤍

user4: and why do none of yall think they’re together??

sabrinacarpenter: prettiest girl in the world

ynuser: says you,, a literal goddess

user6: y/n/n this is huge!!! i’m so excited for you

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, and 7,293 others

f1gossip: y/n y/l/n dropped a new song today and all signs say these lyrics could be about our very own charles leclerc. she sang this song for the first time today in atlanta while wearing a shirt that says “i 🤍 my situationship.” this comes after rumors of the pairing secretly seeing each other after being photographed together briefly in a miami nightclub. do we think the man who ‘isn’t from where she’s from and feels like home’ is a certain monegasque ferrari driver?

view all 435 comments

user1: first of all the shirt is absolutely iconic and i will be buying one exactly like it

user1: second of all i honestly hope she is talking abt charles

user2: idk the fact that the song is called tennessee orange makes me think it could be oscar… didn’t he also get rumored to be with her?

user3: omg it could be oscar!

user1: why would you guys think it’s oscar???

user2: user1 i think it’s because of that video mclaren posted where oscar and lando had to guess the lyrics to songs and one of y/n’s songs was played and oscar sang like the entire thing and lando was like umm??? and oscar turned beat red and said he really liked y/n

user1: ohhhhh my goodness ok i didn’t see that video. begging one of you to do a breakdown of all the info we have for oscar vs charles

user2: i got you , lemme make a twitter thread brb

user14: did y’all consider that this song is truly about a man from tennessee

user3: no! hope this helps!!

user4: ever since she dropped the lore that she loves f1 y’all have been grasping at straws to connect her to a driver fr

user34: do we think she could get him to a rodeo? i’d die to see charles at one

user7: praying with everything that i have that we get an answer abt who she is with at cota

user5: obsessed with this level of delulu from you f1gossip

user8: could you imagine the charles leclerc being your situationship???? i mean wow

ynuser has added to their story

view all story replies

user1: why is everything you do so hot

user2: i wish i could see if oscar or charles swiped up

_quinnhughes: how about you come visit me next?

ynuser: i have heard vancouver is nice this time of year

charlesleclerc: oh wow

ynuser: 🤭🤭🤭

charlesleclerc: you’re more than welcome to take me for a ride after you’re done there

oscarpiastri: need some pointers on how to do this myself

ynuser: it’s all in the hips osc

oscarpiastri: noted

user12: i’m obsessed with you

user13: ok! cool girls ride mechanical bulls! taking notes 📝

user14: thank you for being so sweet at the bar this evening and taking a picture with us!! you are literally the nicest person in the world 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

ynuser has posted to their story

view all story replies

user3: IM HERE AND IM READY!! YOU ARE GONNA EAT UP THAT NATIONAL ANTHEM

user6: RAHHHHH AMERICA 🇺🇸 🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸

oscarpiastri: hoping you are my good luck charm y/n

ynuser: wishing you a safe race ossie 🧡

user8: ugh youre in blue you were supposed to be in red or papaya to confirm which boy you’re with

charlesleclerc: i think you’d look amazing in ferrari red

ynuser: you think so?

charlesleclerc: i know so

iamrebeccad: i can’t wait to see you later

ynuser: likewise 🤍

yourbff: you’re living the dream, i miss you bestie

ynuser: i miss you more. please come visit me soon 😭

user13: so excited for you gorgeous girl

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, yourbff, user5, user6, and 12,345 others

f1gossip: charles and oscar were stood next to each other during y/n’s rendition of the american national anthem and didn’t even look at each other once during the entire thing. do we think there’s trouble in paradise between the father son pair? could both of them be pining over the same gorgeous american princess?

view all 333 comments

user2: them standing next to each other is diabolical

user8: she IS america’s sweetheart and i just hope whatever boy she’s with is treating her right

user6: the way she was unphased and just pranced right on by them in her little cowgirl boots… iconic

user3: i was praying that she was going to stop and wish one of them good luck

user14: guys have we CONSIDERED that just bc she likes the sport and the drivers know who she is doesn’t necessarily mean she’s with one of them?!

user1: imma hold your hand when i say this

user22: my money is on one of them winning and kissing her in celebration

user33: my money is on them being secretly photographed at an after party

user44: tbh my money is on nothing being confirmed this weekend

user23: you better put some respect on my girls name and at least mention how she NAILED that anthem

charlesleclerc has made a post

liked by scuderiaferrari, landonorris, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, ynuser, yourbff and 634,910 others

charlesleclerc: thank you austin for a fantastic weekend

view all 999 comments

user7: OHHHH MY GOD

user2: i know that’s my girl y/n!!!!!! that’s y/n!!!!! you can’t convince me otherwise!!!

user1: it’s her 😭😭 war is over 😭😭😭

scuderiaferrari: congratulations on a great weekend ❤️

user3: she put him in a cowboy hat i’m screaming

maxverstappen1: 👀

charlesleclerc: 🥰

carlossainz55: who is that in the last photo? surely not you

charlesleclerc: it is me in the last photo!

carlossainz55: your pants are oddly tight there

user16: i love a cl16 podium

ynuser: who’s that cowboy?

charlesleclerc: your cowboy

user2: STOP IT

f1gossip: and y’all didn’t believe me

user73: someone check on oscar

landonorris: lmfao they’re all friends it’s ok

user2: LANDO IS ALWAYS AT THE WCENE OF THE CRIME

user24: prettiest boy on the podium as always

charlesleclerc has posted to his story

view all story replies

user44: glad she stayed true and is wearing a football shirt and not ferrari merch

maxverstappen1: feeling a little betrayed that i’m finding out with the rest of the world. WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME

charlesleclerc: mate i didn’t tell anyone

maxverstappen1: but i’m not just anyone 😔

yourbff: my beautiful girl - you better be good to her

charlesleclerc: i will be don’t worry!

user2: the confirmation i needed im obsessed with you both

ynuser: will always wear red for you charlie 😘

charlesleclerc: that’s my girl ❤️

user4: who’s this diva

user14: whelp i didn’t see this coming

carlossainz55: get her in a ferrari cap asap! also rebecca says you need to bring her to more races

charlesleclerc: trust me if i had it my way she’d be at all of them

user55: an american princess and a monegasque prince… a perfect match

ynuser has made a post

liked yourbff, scuderiaferrari, sabrinacarpenter, oliviarodrigo, carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 239,836 others

ynuser: mama i like him a lot 🤭 (p.s i’ve always looked better in red)

view all 867 comments

user6: can the european mind even comprehend texas and college football y/n?

yourbff: well… we’re all about to find out!

user2: brb sobbing this is so cute

landonorris: how did you convince him to put on a cowboy hat???

ynuser: it wasn’t easy that’s for sure

user3: my 2 fav things colliding. y/n and f1 ,,, i used to pray for times like this

charlesleclerc: and i like you a lot

ynuser: 🤭 i’m so glad you do

charlesleclerc: it’s simply impossible not to

user67: mama y papa

user89: i can’t believe you’ve fallen for a vroom vroom that isn’t in nascar

scuderiaferrari: welcome to the family y/n ❤️

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[lewisvinga]

my shot | alex albon x fem! reader x lily muni he

summary; after admitting in an interview about their crush on a certain youtuber, alex and lily decide to shoot their shot through instagram

fc; tara yummy

warnings; ?? none i think

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

notes; requested ! i’m obsessed w tara yummy rn

masterlist !

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, and others !

yourusername: let’s go to the beach each

username: the shirt 😭😭😭

username: i just know y/n was struggling in the 5 ft end

yourusername: i was , i suck at swimming 🤕🤕

lilymhe: crazy i know how to swim !

username: lily what are u doing here 😭😭

username: the last picture is so cunty i love it

username: she’s so queen

username: not lily and alex in the likes 😭

alex_albon: let’s go get a wave

yourusername: they say what they gonna say

alex_albon: have a drink, clink, found a bud light

yourusername: bad bitches like me are hard to come by

lilymhe: you are the baddest bitch

username: this comment thread ???😭😭

username: alex albon’s attempt at flirting it just singing nicki minaj

username: he has a gf tho

username: you can’t tell me they both aren’t in love w her…

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; last few days here 😴] [caption 2; tanning bc i can’t swim]

lilymhe replied to your story !

lilymhe so you really can’t swim?

yourusername lol i suck at it, i always use floaties when i’m in the pool & i refuse to go in the ocean😭

lilymhe maybe if we happen to be in the same place , i can teach you😁😁

yourusername you just wanna see me in a bikini don’t you🥴

lilymhe i mean yes. deleted !

lilymhe just helping a girl out and shooting my shot?😁😁

yourusername ur cute

lilymhe and i think ur cuter

yourusername you and….

lilymhe alex and i think you’re cute 😁

yourusername: i’ll be at the miami gp btw, maybe you both can teach me how to swim😌

lilymhe oh, we’re ready, pretty girl

alex_albon replied to your story !

alex_albon heyyyy[100% rizz]

yourusername: oh your girlfriend is much better at this than you are

alex_albon i’m trying 😔

alex_albon but i managed to pull her anyways 🤓

yourusername you’re a dork but it’s cute🤕

alex_albon so me shooting my shot is working?😁😁

yourusername oh 100%

alex_albon a little birdie told me you’re going to the miami gp?

yourusername yeah, might be dressed in ferrari red

alex_albon why not williams blue? you should come to our garage instead 😁

yourusername hmmm u gotta convince me, pretty boy 🧐

alex_albon well, lily and i will be there , isn’t that enough?

yourusername you’re right ,

yourusername i’ll see you in the williams garage then, pretty boy😇

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, and others !

yourusername: i like to see cars racing now i guess

tagged; lilymhe, alex_albon, williamsracing

williamsracing: the cuntiest guest in our garage

yourusername: why thank u admin

lilymhe: ugh you’re gorgeous 😩

yourusername: hello?? you’re the most gorgeous 🥴🥴

lilymhe: in my f1 driver era liked by yourusername !

alex_albon: i feel so special knowing i had the 2 prettiest girls ever rooting for me

yourusername: you’re a dork but i’ll cheer for u every race 🤓

username: OMG HELLO😀

username: my fave youtuber and f1?? i’m so??

username: alex lily n y/n are acting very suspicious…….🧐🧐🧐

username: i just wanna know how this all happened

username: imagine lily and alex sliding into her dms 😭😭😭

username: they’re just like me fr

username: i gotta be REAL honest w y’all, they’d look hot asf as a throuple

username: oomf are u insane

username: look at oomf dawg😭😭😭

username: no i get it

[hederasgarden]

Under the Influence - Part 1

Summary: While investigating a suspicious pharmaceutical company, you and Clark find yourselves exposed to a drug that forces you to grapple with its unforeseen consequences. Pairing: Clark Kent x F!Reader  Word Count: 3.9K Warning: 18+ only, explicit sexual content. Dubious consent (reader and Clark are exposed to sex pollen), unprotected PIV, size kink, biting, angst and other untagged themes.  A/N: Thank you @ryebecca @clairewritesandrambles and @a-reader-and-a-writer for holding my hand through this and Becca for beta’ing!

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ Henry Cavill Characters Masterlist

It’s late, and the glittering skyline of Metropolis stretches out beyond the windows of the Daily Planet. The usual hum of activity in the bullpen is absent tonight – it’s just you, Clark, and an intimidating stack of boxes that seem to multiply with every passing minute. You may have indulged in a daydream or two about Clark just like this, but none of them ever involved so much paperwork.

You stifle a yawn, reaching for your coffee, only to nearly choke when you realize it’s gone cold. Grimacing, you set the offending mug aside and try to wash away the stale taste with water. The sound catches Clark’s attention and pulls him from his work. He offers you a wiry smile that you return, struck once again by just how handsome he looks. He makes it all too easy to have a crush on him, even though you know it wouldn’t go anywhere.

“I’ll put on a fresh pot,” he offers, stretching as he stands. 

Despite shedding his suit jacket earlier, and the way his tie is slightly askew, he still manages to look annoyingly chipper despite the late hour. You lean back to pass him your mug, your stiff muscles protesting. They ache from hours of sitting and sorting. 

“Back in a jiffy,” he promises, disappearing down the hall. 

By now, the two of you have been hunched over documents for nearly ten hours. Half of them are so technical they might as well be gibberish, but you’ve found a few leads in the financial papers. Unfortunately, your current stack of documents is so heavily redacted that they’re practically useless. You groan in frustration, resting your forehead on your arms until Clark returns, bringing the rich, intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee with him. 

You accept the mug with a smile but quickly set it on the table when the warmth that seeps through the ceramic nearly burns your fingers. Not for the first time, you wonder how Clark managed to get the ancient coffee machine to percolate so quickly. For everyone else, it typically spewed out lukewarm sludge.

“Bet you're regretting volunteering for this assignment now,” Clark says. 

“Not for a moment,” you reply. “You’re still sharing that byline with me, right?” You question, squinting up at him.

“I always keep my promises,” he says with such earnestness that you’re reminded once again why Perry liked to call him a Boy Scout.

“I’ll hold you to it because this story’s turned into a beast.”

Clark sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he surveys the cluttered table strewn with file boxes and paper.  “It really has,” he agrees. 

When Perry called for a volunteer from the pool of junior editors to help with an expose on Salvation Pharmaceuticals, you jumped at the opportunity and not just because Clark was the writer assigned to the story. Most of your days were spent copyediting stories and arguing about AP style. You were just itching for some hands-on research experience, although neither of you expected the thread Clark pulled to unravel so quickly or so thoroughly. 

What started as an investigation into government kickbacks and dubious congressional dealings rapidly evolved into something far more unsettling. Salvation Pharmaceuticals’ R&D department was embroiled in deeply questionable research, from a gas capable of erasing memories to a potent drug they called a truth serum. All of their drugs had horrible side effects, particularly the latter which worked by lowering inhibitions but also triggered something they called sexual psychosis.

Clark’s freedom of information request resulted in your current predicament. Based on the sheer number of boxes they sent it was clear the company hoped to overwhelm you with an avalanche of data and make it difficult to find what you needed. Unfortunately for them, Clark Kent was one of the most determined reporters you’d ever met. If anyone was going to get to the bottom of the story it was him. 

“Well…once more unto the breach,” you quote, holding up a fresh box of files.

As you lift the lid, Clark offers you a small smile, his cheeks dimpling. For a moment, you’re too distracted by him to notice the cloud of yellow dust rising from the box. It quickly expands, swirling into a thick mist that engulfs you both. Immediately, your lungs begin to burn, and you gasp for air. You push your chair back and struggle to stand as your vision blurs. 

A strong arm around your middle hauls you back, dragging your feet on the carpet. Clark pulls you to the edge of the room, and you lean into him, desperately trying to clear your lungs. Behind you, he grunts, his fingers twitching and spasming against your hip. It takes several moments for the air to clear, but when it does, you watch in horror as the yellow dust seems to melt into your skin.

“What was that?” You ask, voice hoarse.

Clark is silent and looks grim when you turn to face him. “I think that was the truth serum. The reports described it as yellow dust.”

You stare at him, bewildered. “Why would the dust be in there?”

“I don’t know. But I can guess.”

You rub your chest and take a hesitant step back. “I don’t feel any different. Do you?”

“No.” He presses his lips together, a muscle in his jaw twitching with tension. “Do you feel anything?”

You exhale slowly, taking stock of your body. “Maybe?” Your response is more of a question than a definitive answer. You feel oddly warm, but it could just be the adrenaline from the situation. 

“You’re sweating,” he observes, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. The warmth of his touch makes you shudder and you can’t help but notice how good he smells. “Your body temperature is elevated.”

“Huh?” You look up at him, momentarily lost in his gaze. “You’re hot, too,” you blurt out, mortified when the words leave your mouth.

“I feel fine,” Clark replies, either misunderstanding what you meant or choosing not to acknowledge the slip.

You step away from him, feeling your body buzz with embarrassment. Sweat dots your brow, and you’re halfway out of your thin cardigan before you even realize it. As you pace the room, you realize Clark might be right — the powder could be affecting you. You try to shake off the disorienting feeling that lingers, while Clark tracks your progress with sharp blue eyes.

“Should we call someone? Isn’t there a protocol for dealing with mysterious powders?” It’s difficult to think straight when your body feels like a furnace. “Clark?” You question.

His nostrils flare but otherwise, he doesn’t respond until you say his name again. “Yeah. There’s uh, an anthrax protocol. Perry’s got it in his office.”

Time seems to progress in strange lurches and lulls as you wait for Clark to return. You’re not sure how long he’s gone, each minute dragging as the heat within intensifies and your thoughts become increasingly muddled. There’s a growing pressure in your stomach too, something that radiates down. It’s not exactly painful, but it’s persistently irritating — a prickling feeling that needs to be soothed.

“I made the call,” Clark announces, reappearing. “They said it’ll be 30 minutes until they get here with everything they need. We just have to sit tight.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. If it really was the truth serum, and you’re starting to believe Clark might be right, there’s no telling what might come out of your mouth. Even now, as you pace back and forth, you feel a pressure under your tongue, as though the words are lurking just beneath the surface, eager to spring out. The last thing you want to do is reveal your stupid little crush on him.

“God, it’s hot,” you muttered, staring at the window. You press your palms to the glass. It’s cool to the touch and you lay your forehead against it, almost moaning in relief. You wish you could strip off your dress and melt into the floor. 

“Here.” Clark’s voice is closer than you expect.

You flinch at the feel of his hand on your lower back but let him turn you around to face him. He presses a glass of cool water to your lips, and you grasp his thick wrist as he urges you to drink it all, your gaze never leaving his. The moment you finish your mouth feels dry and your throat itches. 

“You have the bluest eyes,” you whisper. “You shouldn’t hide them behind your glasses.” You reach for them, but Clark stops you with a gentle hand on yours. Embarrassment rushes under your skin, and you draw back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“It’s the drug.”

“Why aren’t you affected?” You question. “You seem fine.”

“My biology is different from yours,” he says almost absently only to freeze a second later. He presses his lips together and clenches his jaw. For the first time since you met him, Clark looks genuinely unsettled. “The reports said it affected women quicker,” he adds before stepping back.

Your hand falls limply to your side as you watch him. Clark tugs at his already loosened tie, stretching his neck with an audible crack. A dark red flush creeps up his cheeks, making the skin around his eyes glow faintly. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a harsh breath through his nose.

“Maybe I should wait in the other room,” he grits out.

“Yeah,” you agree.

Clark barely takes a step towards the door before a sharp, unexpected wave of searing pain rips through your stomach, sending you crashing to your knees. The impact jolts your entire body, but that discomfort is overshadowed by a deep gnawing ache between your legs. You pitch forward onto all fours, struggling as your cunt flutters around nothing. 

“Oh,” you whimper, terrified as your mind recalls the adverse event report for the truth serum with perfect clarity. 

Following an increase in basal body temperature, patients exposed to the drug exhibit symptoms of full-blown sexual psychosis. This condition necessitates achieving climax to alleviate symptoms. Patients who are unable to reach climax experience a marked increase in heart rate and blood pressure, which in some cases progresses to cardiac arrest.

Every muscle in your body tenses, as a fierce, relentless pressure builds. Then, like the tide, it recedes, leaving you curled into a ball on the floor. Through half-closed eyes, you meet Clark’s gaze. He kneels in front of you and his expression mirrors your anguish.

“Clark….”

“I know,” he says quietly. His hands hover at your shoulder for a moment before he finally helps turn you on your back.

None of this feels real; it’s like a twisted wish gone wrong.

“Help me, please,” you cry, the words escaping in broken sobs. You’re too hysterical to feel ashamed about what you’re asking him to do. Details from the report keep replaying in your mind, fueling your terror. You don’t want to die.

Clark looms over you, a sheen of sweat on his brow. You stare up at him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pain in your core pulses and builds. The ache in the body is all-consuming, overriding everything else. Worse is the feeling of emptiness that you know he could fill. 

“Please.” Your voice fizzles out as a strong wave of pain slams into you. It leaves you reeling and disoriented. You claw at his arms, fingernails digging into his skin. 

“I’m going to help you.” He says, his gaze lingering on you as he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “If-if you want me to,” he adds, and a hysterical laugh bubbles up inside you. Of course you do, you’ve dreamed of him since the day you met him in the breakroom. You just never imagined this. 

When another cramp leaves you panting and desperate you grit out a pained, “Yes.”

His large hand encircles your calf, gently but firmly pulling your legs apart so he can kneel between them. The cool air makes you groan and you try to curl in on yourself again, but Clark pins you to the floor easily. With shaky hands, he drags your dress up to expose your simple black underwear. The sight seems to transfix him and you watch his chest rise and fall with quick, shallow breaths that mimic your own. 

“I have to ah, I have to…” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he shakes his head his glasses fall down his nose. “I need to get you ready.”

“I don’t care,” you sob. “Fuck me, please.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the part that's still you, is horrified by your words. You’ve never spoken to anyone like that, let alone a colleague or the man you have a crush on. But you know with a terrifying certainty that if he doesn’t fuck you, you’ll both die. 

“It’s okay,” he soothes, the calm tenor of his voice betrayed by the way his hand trembles against your thigh. He tears off your underwear with an ease that would give you pause if you were in your right mind.

Shame is a thing of the past as you spread your legs even further, allowing his hungry gaze to drink its fill. He parts your folds and draws two fingers through the wetness gathered there, starting with light, teasing strokes that quickly build to more. When his thumb finds your bundle of nerves, he rubs slow, soothing circles until the pain in your stomach eases a fraction. 

“You’re doing good,” he encourages, sounding breathless. “Doing so good for me, honey.”

You moan his name and he shifts closer, bent forward to watch himself work. Soon one kind of pressure recedes and another begins. You gasp, throwing your head back as Clark continues his slow assault, building in its intensity. When your legs thrash his other hand settles on your hip, holding you still as he works a thick finger inside. Your cunt clenches in response to the intrusion. Above you, he groans and his thumb moves faster. 

“More, oh god I need more,” you beg, keening when Clark pushes a second finger inside. 

The stretch of them both burns but that’s eclipsed by the pleasure you feel. You rock forward, trying to take more of him but he doesn’t let you, controlling the pace. You can hear yourself babbling, nonsensical words streaming from your mouth as he draws you closer and closer to your orgasm until, all at once, it overwhelms you completely. Your orgasm is almost painful and your hands curl into fists, your body contorting in response. The room blurs around you, and every fiber of your being is consumed by the relief you feel. 

When it passes you’re left trembling on the floor, avoiding Clark’s gaze. He hovers over you, his arousal hard to miss with the way it tents the front of his gray slacks.

“Clark.” You touch his chest, inhaling when his dark blue eyes snap up to meet yours. “Do you…” 

You can’t even force yourself to say it now that you’re back in your right mind. Clark shakes his head, withdrawing his fingers. You wince, and he looks pained. 

“We should —” he starts, but whatever he is about to say is abruptly cut off as he grunts and hunches forward, a visible shudder running through him. 

Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his face. When your fingers brush over the curve of his cheek he moans and surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals your breath. He forces his tongue inside and the heat of him is almost unbearable. You push at his shoulder, but he doesn’t relent. His hands travel up and down your sides and you feel that familiar pressure return to your core. It builds slowly, like the spark of an ember that will soon flare into a blazing fire. 

You shift under Clark, drawing your legs up as he swallows down your needy whine. By the time he pulls away, you’re feeling dizzy and gasping for breath.

“We need to,” you begin, squeezing your eyes shut as your body trembles.

“I know,” Clark replies.

He fumbles with his pants and you look up at the ceiling as he pulls himself free. It feels like a violation to look, but without your permission, you find your gaze drifting down. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his cock, just as big and thick as the rest of him. It’s red and weeping. Your cunt aches, and you toss your head side to side, trying to dispel the pain. 

Clark plants a hand near your head while he lines himself up between your thighs. He pushes inside slowly. It hurts, god, it hurts, but you need more of him, and you need it now. Wrapping his tie around your hand, you pull hard, urging him closer. He snaps his hip forward with enough force to jar your bones, and you wail in response. For one blissful moment, everything is quiet. Your buzzing mind and aching body are finally filled in a way they’ve been craving.

“Fuck.” The curse falls from Clark’s lips and brings you back to the moment. “You feel so good. You feel…” he trails off, his words bleed into one long, low moan that has you clenching around him. 

Above you, his handsome face contorts, his lips pressed tightly together. Tension lines the muscles of his jaw and his dark brows furrow in an expression that teeters between ecstasy and pain. Pleasure skitters along your nerves as he drives into you over and over again to reach some unknown place hidden deep inside. Your second orgasm rises to the surface just as swiftly as your first and Clark is relentless as he fucks you through it. 

There isn’t even time to catch your breath before his hands encircle your hips and he leans back, drawing you with him. The backs of your thighs drag over the fabric of his slack as he moves your body to meet his thrusts. As one orgasm fades you feel another spring to life, hastened by the feel of his calloused thumb on your clit. The need inside you burns even brighter, and a litany of desperate pleas spills from your lips. 

“You feel,” he pants, “just like I imagined.”

When you gasp his name he curls his body over yours, the new angle allowing him to move even deeper. You hold onto his biceps and listen to the desperate little noises that escape his chest with each thrust. His lips find the soft skin of your throat as his fingers dig into the neckline of your dress. He pulls hard and buttons scatter, giving him access to your shoulder. Teeth scrap over tender flesh and your back arches as another orgasm blooms in your stomach.

Waves of pleasure ebb through your body and your fingers tangle in the thick hair at the nape of his neck. Clark doesn’t falter even when you fall still beneath him. Your muscles ache, and your body feels tense and exhausted, but that frenzied need that’s driven you since the dust melted into your system slakes away until you’re left feeling everything. Guilt and horror fill your body like sand, weighing you down. 

Clark groans and you realize he’s still in the throes of the drug's effects. The ceaseless rhythm of his hips has turned painful and your insides feel raw. You push at his shoulder but he doesn’t even seem to notice, hitching your leg over his waist to push himself deeper. 

He shudders, gasping, “like that, just like that.” Then his teeth sink into your neck and he finally stills. 

Tears leak from the corner of your eyes as your breath comes in short little sobs, your heart fluttering in your chest. After a few moments, Clark stiffens and you know he’s come back to himself. He shifts, slipping out of you with a quiet exhale. You can’t stifle your whimper of pain and his gaze jumps to you. For a moment you stare at each other and the silence is deafening. Then he passes a trembling hand over his lips and rocks back, moving to his feet in a fluid motion. He turns from you to tuck himself away and runs a hand through his curls. 

You sit up slowly, drawing your knees to your chest while you hold the fabric of your dress together in an attempt to give yourself some dignity. It’s almost laughable after what just happened. Clark says your name and you stare at his outstretched hand. After a moment of hesitation, you take it and he pulls you to your feet. When he drops his jacket over your shoulders you feel a swell of gratitude. You let him guide you to a chair, wincing when you sit. Everything feels raw and tender. 

He clears his throat. “The response team is downstairs.”

“Okay,” you say numbly. 

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” he whispers. 

You want to tell him it’s okay, that it’s not his fault, but the words catch in your throat. All you get out is his name. Nothing about this is okay. How could it be? 

You wait together, Clark standing half a step ahead of you while you stare at his broad shoulders, lost in thought. He’s the one to greet the men and women in hazmat suits. You don’t catch everything he says, but his eyes drift back to you as he speaks. Before long, you’re separated, and the last image you hold onto is his hair tousled from your fingers and his wrinkled, untucked shirt.

From there, everything becomes a blur; moments merge into a disjointed sequence — being herded into a decontamination shower, the uncomfortable scratch of paper scrubs against your sensitive skin, a distressing medical exam, and then the questions. Endless questions bring back the haze of disjointed memories you’re struggling to process.

By the time you’re allowed to leave, the first rays of light filter through the windows of the bullpen. You watch the soft golden glow and listen to the faint chirping of birds. The city is waking up, bustling to life as it always does, but you feel disconnected from it all until you step into the elevator and turn to find Clark standing there.

He halts the doors from closing, his sad, mournful eyes meeting yours. A powerful wave of emotion rises in your throat as the weight of his guilt and your embarrassment settles inside you like a stone. There’s so much you want to say, so much that needs to be said, but it’s overshadowed by a deep ache in your chest. You feel so lost and unsure, terrified about what lies ahead that tears spill from your eyes, hot and unchecked. 

Clark exhales softly and steps back, but just before the doors close, he whispers your name. In that moment, everything else fades away — it’s just you, him, and all the unspoken words that linger between you.

Then, he’s gone and you’re left utterly alone. 

♡

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