#australian milk no way

[taerominjae]

I opened Instagram and checked EXOs story as usual

BUT.....

NO FUCKING WAY IS BAEKHYUN HOLDING AUSTRALIAN MILK 🥹🥰😂

[jamminvroomvroom]

no more mister shy guy.

OP x fem!reader

in which you can’t work out why he just won’t sleep with you

i am neither normal, nor am i hinged! i hope you guys get the vision, i literally wrote this last night possessed by some feral urge bc i just love oscar sm and i’ve been needing to write for him sooo baaad. enjoy! pls lemme know what you think <3

songs to set the vibes: delicate by taylor swift, good looking by suki waterhouse, my kind of woman by max demarco, feeling myself by wolf alice

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp but also there is some plot? overstimulation, crying in a hot way, choking, unprotected sex (L bozo don’t do that!) the most minor moment of angst, fluff

2.8k words

you watch him make coffee, daydreaming, balancing your heavy head on your hand. you study him while your free hand taps against the kitchen counter, nails drumming a random beat. sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, framing him golden. you don’t think he knows how pretty he is.

oscar is oblivious to the way your mind is ticking behind him, twisting the cap on the carton of oat-milk. you hear the plastic fall onto the counter and your tongue wets your lower lip as he reaches up into the cupboard, his back flexing beneath his shirt as he finds your favourite mug. you realise then how swollen your lip is, snapped out of the trance he had you in, the one that had you biting your lip so hard, completely mindlessly.

he’s bulked up over the winter break, filled out a lot over the course of his rookie season. he’s no longer the scrawny, anxious guy you’d met at your fathers work event a year ago, he’s broader, thicker in your hands, utterly delicious. as much as you like the way he looks, you like his mind a whole lot more. if only you knew what was going on inside it.

oscar is an enigma, quiet, hilariously dry, the kindest man you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. you’ve been together since the start of the winter break, november, after awkward run ins and plenty of pining since the start of his first season. you’d travel to races with your dad, a mclaren sponsor, and run into the australian, stare at each other and pretend no one noticed. after months of teasing from lando, oscar finally got the kick up the arse that he needed and you’d said yes to dinner before he’d even finished asking the question.

it’s february now, a week til he needs to be in bahrain. the last three months had been serene, spent with a man made of sunshine, and you’re sad to see him go, as if you won’t be in the emirates a mere four days after him. you fear the way you’ll ache for him, having been inseparable since the dinner that started it all.

but then again, it can’t be worse than the way you ache for him now.

“sweetheart?” oscar is waving his hand in front of your face when you realise he’s been calling your name for a good 15 seconds, and you have, in fact, been staring. hm? you jump, staring at him bewildered. he looks amused. “you okay?” he coos, sliding the coffee across the island towards you.

“yeah, sorry, i, um, i just- why won’t you have sex with me?” you blurt, slapping your hand over your mouth as soon as you realise what you’ve just said.

oscar just blinks, mouth forming a little o, the permanent blush he seems to have increasing tenfold. you instantly feel guilty for ambushing him, but you were at the end of your tether. three months of nothing, nada, zilch. every move you made was refuted, ignored as if he was oblivious. you were ravenous for him, he’s so gorgeous! and you didn’t want to pressure him, but you were starting to feel like there was something wrong with you.

you’d wake up in bed with him wrapped around you, grinding against your ass in his sleep, and you’d revel in it, the rare times that he actually seemed to want you like that. you loved him regardless, of course you did, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t need to be… dealt with. urgently.

“i- um- what?” oscar splutters, and the bottom of his mug blinks against the granite.

“is there something wrong with me? am i not pretty enough?” you whisper, shy. “do you just not… like- do you not want to do that?” you ramble.

panic fills his face, and he’s rushing around the island, by your side in an instant. he takes your hands into his, finding your eyes. they’ve grown watery, a mixture of guilt and desperation swirling in them which makes him feel ill.

“baby, no, god no.” he rushes the words out, desperate to convince you that it wasn’t you. “you’re the most beautiful person in the entire world, prettiest girl i ever saw.” he promises. “i’m just… it’s scary.”

“oh, osc.” your face falls, and you want to throw yourself off of the balcony. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to pressure you. if it makes you feel better, i’m scared too. but i love you so much, i just want to feel even closer to you.”

“you didn’t make me feel pressured, i’m just sorry i made you feel unwanted. trust me, i want you like that. drives me insane. but i’ve never had sex before with someone that i love. not the way i love you, anyway. scared that i won’t be good enough for you.” he murmurs.

you’re hung up on the part where you drive him crazy, the part where he loves you like that, and then you remember how vulnerable he’s being, baring his entire soul to you, and you rip yourself from the fantasy.

your hands smooth over his shoulders, until you’re softly fisting a clump of hair at the nape of his neck.

“i love you. insanely. we’ll go slow.” you state. he moulds further against you, and you quickly realise it’s for leverage, because the next thing you know, you’re in his arms. he has his hands hooked under your thighs and he’s kissing you so, so deeply that you’re dizzy. you don’t realise that you’re halfway to his bedroom until he pulls away.

“i don’t wanna go slow anymore.”

oscar places you on your feet at the end of his bed, the large, plush king-sized mattress that is currently calling both of your names. your blouse gets unbuttoned first, his hands shaking in a way that makes you melt, and his lips trail over every inch of bare skin that he uncovers. when it finally falls to the floor, his pupils are blown wide, his hands palming intricate black lace. your jeans are stripped away mercilessly, his hands shaking less now, and you take it as a sign to crawl backwards onto the bed.

he stands there, watching you, apprehensive again. you can see how hard he is, how desperately strained his cock is through the light grey of his sweatpants, and so you switch tactics. your hand grazes your tummy, skimming up your abdomen until you reach a bra strap. you toy with the elastic, holding the kind of eye contact that makes him twitch, tugging it until it hangs loosely off of your shoulder.

“i need you, osc. i trust you.” you utter, soft and enticing. one finger runs under the cup of your bra, flicking over your nipple. he can just about see the hardened bud through the lace of your bra. it’s not enough, though, and every ounce of self control depletes when you whine, “want you inside of me so badly.”

the elastic band snaps and he’s on top of you, rutting between your legs like a man starved. you drag his shirt up and over his shoulder blades, moaning as you feel each and every muscle under your fingertips.

“just wanna make you feel good.” oscar rasps, rolling his hips even harder into your core.

“take these off.” you beg, pulling at the waistband of his joggers. he somehow musters the strength to pry himself off of you, just long enough to discard the uncomfortable material of his sweats, but as soon as he looks down, his plans change.

painted over the crotch of them is a shiny pool of your slick, and when his eyes flit hungrily to your core, he sees where you’ve soaked through your panties. you’re panting when you see the stain, and you just want to get him inside of you, but his priorities have changed. oscar collapses between your legs, head buried, tongue exploring.

he groans, carnal and needy, into the fabric of your underwear, laving his tongue over the lace. your eyes widen as he dives in, licking over the wet patch until he grows frustrated. you hear the tearing of the fabric, feel his big hands pawing at your thighs to spread them as wide as they’ll go. his tongue slides right inside of you and he whines. he fucking whines. the vibration nearly makes you scream. you can’t believe this is your oscar, the same oscar that had quivered with nerves a mere five minutes ago.

“oh my god.” you chant, rolling your hips against his face. you must be all over him by now, what with the way he’s sucking and slurping, obscene sounds of wetness sounding around the room. you’d be blushing a deep red if you weren’t so turned on, shaking against his bedspread which will probably need changing once he’s done with you.

you thought that maybe he was inexperienced and that was the source of his fear, but if he was, you never would have known. he was a natural in between your legs, nipping at your clit to get you even louder for him.

you cum faster than ever, and he’s mumbling something incoherent into your pussy when you do. you’re riding the high, midway through the bliss, when a thick finger slips its way inside of you. oscar realises that he can easily slide another in, and he does. he doesn’t thrust them in and out, he grinds them against your walls, and your mouth falls open as a silent scream forces it’s way out.

you cum a second time, in record time yet again, and he still doesn’t let up. he’s hitting that spot relentlessly with his fingers, keeping your clit between his swollen lips, and you’re begging him. for what, you’re not sure, but you’re whimpering his name like you’re going to die. and what a good way to go this would be.

his eyes meet yours, and he looks unhinged. that’s when you feel it. that all consuming, belly twisting rush.

“oscar!” you try to warn him, but it’s too late, and he knows it. he makes you squirt, because of course he does. the shy guy who was scared that he wouldn’t be able to please you makes you squirt.

he pulls his mouth off of you but keeps his fingers buried deep, eyes fixed on watching the way your pussy convulses.

“holy shit.” you cry. you’re staring down at him like you’ve gone insane. he’s smiling innocently.

“was that good?” he almost sounds shy and you want to kick him.

“are you… are you serious?” you rasp. oscar just shrugs. “get up here.” you reach for him and complies, slotting himself between your legs once more.

oscar resumes the rolls of his hips, and the friction of the grey fabric against your core makes your eyes roll back.

“please, oscar, fuck me.” you whine, his head falling into the crook of your neck. he bites down, leaving behind the sting of his teeth and a faint purple splotch.

“fucking love you.” he slurs, his accent thickening in a way that makes him sound that extra bit fucked out already.

“i love you.” you murmur, forcing his sweats down his legs. his boxers are wet, just like your panties were, and you can’t help but stare. oh, it’s big.

his boxers are peeled down and you can feel yourself throbbing. his cock hangs heavy, red and dripping, painfully hard. you reach for it, looking at him to make sure it’s okay to touch, and he’s rapidly nodding his head. your small hand struggles but you make it work, and his head tips back, exposing his thick neck that you want to suck purple. your hand works over him a few times, and a visible shiver running through his body makes you stop.

“you ready for me?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“please.” you gasp, locking your legs around his waist. “however you want me, ‘m yours.” you breathe.

oscar’s eyes roll back in his head, your words sending his brain blank, and then he’s pushing home, slow and deep.

“fucking hell.” he groans, guttural. you’re so tight, warm, soaking wet. he feels like the biggest idiot in the world for waiting so long for this.

“oh.” you gasp, your eyebrows knitting together. he’s so deep. “so full.” you pant.

“can you take it, sweetheart?” oscar’s lips bump your jaw. “want you to take it.” you nod profusely, desperate to hear him run his mouth even further. your eyes clench shut when you feel him move, just the tiniest bit, readjusting.

“move.” you plead. he’s staring down at you, watching every single micro movement of your face.

oscar pulls out the smallest bit and thrusts back in, nice and slow. the drag drives you feral, the weight of him on top of you makes you weak. you want to stay like this until the end of days.

“good?” he hisses, trying to keep composed. he’s finally inside of you, claiming you as his in the most intimate way of all. he tries not to think about how many times he could have had you begging under him in the last three months.

“so good, so good.” you repeat, pushing your hips up to try and meet his.

“so pretty like this for me. always so, so pretty.” he rambles. he realises that he never quite made it as far as getting your bra off, and he needs to see all of you. the cups are tugged haphazardly down, and oscar stares at your breasts like he’s never seen tits before. you hear him hum, low and greedy, and then you feel the wet drag of his tongue across your nipple.

the animalistic whine that he rips from you makes him thrust harder, upping his pace a bit. he can hear how much wetter you get when he picks up his pace, and he changes up his rhythm, pushing all the way in and dragging out again at lightning speed. your jaw goes slack and your eyes are damp.

“baby, what’s wrong?” oscar slows to a stop, and you want to scream.

“no, no, no, keep going.” you choke out, your throat constricting with a sob. “it’s so good. feel so good.” you sound drunk, all for him, and he loses his mind completely.

he taps into that athletic stamina, fucking into you with a newfound vigour that you didn’t think was humanly possible, and you feel things that you didn’t even know you could feasibly feel. you see stars behind your eyes, his face, and nothing else but bright white. calloused fingers find your clit, and you wonder fleetingly if he’s trying to kill you when he rubs messy shapes into the much too overstimulated bud. his teeth graze your nipple, and everything seems to come together perfectly.

thick tears run hot down your cheeks, only to be licked away by eager tongue. your belly tightens, aflame for him; he’s wound your body up perfectly and you’ve never in your life teetered so dangerously over the edge.

“can feel you, baby. want you to cum, okay? ‘n then i’m gonna fill you up.” oscar grunts. you clamp down on him even tighter, thanking god for oscar’s filthy fucking mouth and birth control, and then everything snaps.

you think you scream, you know that you’re sobbing, and your throat is raw when the wave hits. oscar keeps going, intensifying your pleasure, and when he finally let’s go, it’s the most beautiful fucking thing you’ve ever seen. it’s surreal, the way his neck flexes, eyes clenched tight, brown locks flopping over his sweat damped forehead. and the sounds he makes, god. he’s muttering into your ear, lewd and shameless, and a fifth orgasm nearly takes you under.

“gonna need you everyday like this, tight fucking pussy, all mine. can’t live without this now. fucking perfect.” he’s rambling, burrowing deep into you one last time. you feel his warmth spilling into you, feel his hot breath fanning your face. he licks into your awaiting mouth.

“fuck.” you giggle, breathless.

“good?” he raises an eyebrow, grinning bashfully.

“more than worth the wait.” you whisper, mustering the strength to lift your head just enough so that you can peck his lips. “you better not hold out on me ever again though.” oscar laughs at that and you feel the rumble in your flushed chest.

“you promise?” there’s the shy guy again.

“osc, honey, that was the best. ever. ever. need you to be mr sex god more often.”

“only if you behave for me.” he smirks down at you.

“there he is.” you sigh happily.

when he snakes his way back between your legs, lapping up the mess he’s made, and then some, you wonder just what you’ve unleashed.

-

whoops? lol

-

taglist

@thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789

(run outta space on my taglist lol, lemme know if u wanna be added or removed)

[verstappen-cult]

Max is upset when you can't be at his side when the race weekend starts. Then when you're back to his side, I guarantee you can't not leave his side at all. This boy is going to stick with you like a koala till he's satisfied

You couldn't join Max the past weekend in Australia due to your work and now you regret it so much. You could’ve just asked your boss for a few days off and she would have said yes, and you could have been by his side during the fiasco that was the Australian Grand Prix.

Max was a little upset when you told him that you would not be in Australia, but after a long conversation — that ended up with you promising to be in Suzuka — he understood. 

Max has to make a quick stop in Monaco to pick a few things before flying to Japan, so you planned to wait for him with a delicious dinner and his favorite dessert. But you didn’t even have time to go to the grocery store because Max decided to arrive earlier, much earlier.

“What do you mean you’re outside?” You squeal, putting on your sneakers. “Outside of where?” You hold your phone between your cheek and shoulder as you grab your bag, waving goodbye to your friends.

“The pilates studio.” He simply says. 

“No, you’re in Australia.”

He laughs, “No, I’m in Monaco.”

“No becau—” You stop dead in your tracks when you step outside because he is, in fact, there, leaning against his car. “Max!”

He opens his arms and you don’t waste any time, colliding against his body. You drop everything just to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I missed you so much.” You whisper against his neck, and you feel his smile when he kisses your cheek. 

“I couldn’t stay there any longer,” He shrugs, grabbing your things from the floor. “I missed my lucky charm this weekend.”

Your smile fades at the memory of Sunday’s race. “I’m sorry for what happened.” Max shrugs again, dismissing the topic with a wave of his hand. “How are you feeling?”

“These things happen. I won’t lie and say that I don’t care but we can’t cry about it, the team’s working on fixing everything and we’ll be back stronger than ever.”

You kiss him because there’s nothing else you could do. Hearing him talk that way when you know the old Max would have been beating himself up means everything to you.

“What was that for?” He chuckles when you pull away, a faint blush on his cheeks. 

“What? I can’t kiss my boyfriend now?” He rolls his eyes but leans to leave a chaste kiss on your lips. “Can you drop me off at the grocery store? I need to buy a few things for dinner.”

You fall into an easy conversation as he drives through the streets of Monaco. He tells you about everything that's wrong with the car and what they’re doing to fix those issues and, in return, you tell him what you’ve been doing in his absence, and how much the cats miss him. 

Soon enough, you reached your destination. 

“Okay, I won’t be long. You can go home and—what are you doing?”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, you’re going home to rest.” But he doesn’t listen. Max just gets out of the car, opens the door and helps you out. “Max.”

He groans, “I just,” He drops his head slightly forward. “I missed you so much, I don’t want to leave you.”

Your heart melts and you can’t say no to him, not when he’s looking like a lost puppy in front of you, so you simply take his hand, dragging him inside.

Of course you don’t miss the way his whole face lights up. 

You end up arguing in the milk aisle because Max doesn’t leave your side, not when you try to move away to grab something you need and definitely not when you bump into one of your friends who you haven’t seen in a while, so you’re unable to hug her. 

The argument ends with you pinned against the store shelves with Max whispering filthy things in your ear. You only pull away when the store manager clears his throat saying that “if you don’t stop right now, you’re gonna be banned for life.”

You think that once at home Max will want to take a rest, forgetting about you, but, to your surprise, he just takes a quick shower before joining you in the kitchen. 

You cook dinner together, with a few kisses and ear scratches to the cats. And then you eat together, talking about everything and nothing at all, enjoying each other’s company. 

Of course Max doesn’t let you shower alone, he joins you there too.

[think-like-a-poet]

Can you do yapper Max where he comes back from night out and is drunk. Reader tries to help him get ready for bed and he just tells her the most random things

Drunk yapping

Max verstappen x reader

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰

You were seated on the couch, blanket firm in your hands as the tenth plot twist happened in your horror movie. A soft yell left your mouth by the look of a couple cut of limbs as the scene became black. The music added a high suspense to the whole movement as you wanted to look away. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to watch it alone and without Max home, you thought.

The camera moved to an abandoned staircase as the music became louder and louder. Just when a door moved open and a face came out, a knock on the moved your attention away. You paused it and got up from the couch to walk towards the door. Looking trough the eye whole you saw Daniel holding Max in his hands.

You smile as you open up the door. Max was losely hanging into Daniels side as he kept on rambling his mouth. Daniel looked a bit irritated, but his smile was as big as ever. "Hi, y/n. I am sorry if I woke you, but Max is being a pain in my ass." you laughed as you made room for Daniel to walk inside. The Australian throws Max on the couch and a loud giggle is heard from your boyfriend.

"Don't worry. I know how Max is when he has a bit too much to drink. I hope he wasn't too annoying." you walked towards the kitchen to grab two glasses of water, Daniel may be less drunk but it was clear he had something to drink too. He thanked you as you gave him a glass of water before moving to sit next to Max.

You held out the glass of water for Max to grab. Max grabs the glass of water and shoots it down his throat like a shot. He sets the glass on the table with trouble and he groans before laying his head in your lap.

Daniel laughs at his friend's antics before walking to the door, "I leave you alone. Carlos is waiting for me in the car. And no, he did not drink." you wave him goodbye and you are left alone with your drunken boyfriend.

"Did you have fun?" you move your fingers through his hair and he nods. Max looks so pretty like this. His hair is ruined and standing in every way, his cheeks are flushing red and the top buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned. He always get it hot when he drowns his third G&T of the night.

"Very, but I did miss you. No one wanted to talk to me." Max pouts and you let out a little laugh at the adoring side. "Every time I said something, they moved away."

You stood up from the couch, "You can tell them to me while we get you ready for bed." Max face lits up and he stands up next to you. He stumbles a bit over his feet and you are quick to grab him by his arms. Together you walk to the bedroom as Max begins to speak.

"There was a cat tonight. I don't know how he made it inside, but he walked up to me, so of course I had to cuddle with him. Did you know cats have 30 teeth. I accidentally moved too close to a place he didn't like and I felt his teeth and you saw like a lot. I didn't hurt, he couldn't help it. " Max rambled and you listened closely to what he said. Of course the first thing was about cats, when didn't he talk about cats?

You helped him sit down on a chair in the corner of the bedroom and walked to the dresser to grab some pajamas. " I did not know they had 30 teeth. It is a surprise you didn't take him home."

"I wanted to, but a security person grabbed it from my hands to bring it outside. I couldn't find him after." Max answered with a sad tone. You saw how he had tried to untie his shoes, but the ties were now pulled fast instead of lose. You shook your head and knelt down you untied them. Max had to keep himself from falling backwards as his eyes close from the busy night.

"People always think cats like milk, but they are actually lactose intolerant. They aren't able to digest the lactose and if they have too much they will be vomiting. Of course a little bit wouldn't hurt too much, but too much is bad for them." Max slurred over his words as you finally pulled off his shoes. "Thank you,"

"Also i read somewhere that animals can have a different time feeling then humans. Smaller animals need more time to progress the movements and time will be slower for them. Like a lizard has slower time then a cat, but a tiger would be further in time than a cat. So technical animals and humans live in different time zones."

"That's strange. That they all live in different moment of time. " you answer while pulling his shirt over his head. "Hands up," you say and Max arms shoot in the air, almost hitting your face by accident, but he is too tired to see. You laugh as you try to pull on his pajama shirt, wich you know if going to be thrown of in the middle of the night when he has it to warm.

After some time Max had finished his teeth and was now sitting on the edge of the bed while you put on your pajama. "Thank you for helping me."

"No worries." you kiss his head and he pulls you in for a hug. "Lets get some rest tonight."

[reminiscingtonight]

And The Things You'd Do

Lia Wälti x Russo!Reader (Alessia Russo & Russo!Reader + Kyra Cooney-Cross & Russo!Reader)

Word Count: 1.4k

The Thing About Families (Part One) // That's How You Know It's Home (Part Three)

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s the shuffling of feet that draws your attention. 

You’re off stretching on the side of the field. Having just come back from injury, you’ve been approved for some light training and warm-ups while the other girls do their own drills. You’ve been doing alright all by your lonesome, so you’re surprised to see the Australian girl approaching. 

You’re quick to narrow your eyes at the sheepish look on her face.

“What is it?”

Kyra turns and you instantly see the problem. She tries to wiggle her arm, one sleeve somehow caught underneath her pinnie. “I’m stuck.”

Sighing, you jerk your head at her. “C’mere.”

The young girl brightens up at your command, dutifully rushing to your side before allowing you to free her from her self-made prison. 

“Go on,” you chuckle when she finally pops free. 

Kyra lets out a whoop before sprinting back towards the other girls.

You’re smiling fondly at her departing figure when you hear a familiar drawl.

“Thought you were getting sick of her.”

You roll your eyes. “Please. I had to grow up with you, Gio, and Luca. Kyra’s a breeze compared to you lot.”

Alessia lets out an offended squawk. “You take that back!”

You raise an eyebrow at her raised arm and Alessia freezes. She gives you a grin, quickly recycling her plans to give you a noogie. “Sorry. Point taken.”

“What can I say? She grew on me.”

Alessia huffs, dragging a toe in the grass as the two of you slowly make your way back to the others. “The taste of coffee can grow on you. Being relegated to passenger-side-car-DJ can grow on you. Annoying Australians cannot grow on you!”

“Relax, rat. I’m not replacing you with her. Think of Kyra as your unofficial niece.”

Alessia pulls a face at your words.

You shake your head. “Take it up with Lia. I’m pretty sure she’s ready to duel Mini for guardianship.”

---

So maybe you should’ve thought things through. 

When the ref whips out her red card, pointing for you to get off the field, you realize you might have gone a little too far. 

In your defense, it really wasn’t your fault.

The first yellow you get on purpose. 

No one messes with your baby sister. 

When Alessia is blatantly fouled and the referee lets play go on without a single care that the blonde is clutching her ankle in pain, it only seems right that you bulldoze through the player at fault. 

She milks the muck out of it and you’re rolling your eyes at the yellow card pointed your way, confidently swaggering your way back across the field to where Alessia’s still on the ground. 

Alessia winces when the trainer presses a little too hard on the joint, fingers nearly crushing yours that you’ve graciously lent her for support. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Didn’t have to do what?”

Alessia tries to look stern but all you can see is the little girl who would follow you everywhere just because she could. You know she’s trying to be strong but you’d recognize the tearful look on her face from a mile away.

Lia doesn’t find the humor in your act of retribution, rightfully chastising you into the locker room at halftime.

“It’s not my fault! Look what she did to Less! She’ll lucky if she only needs to be in the boot for two weeks!”

It isn’t until Kim gives you one of her disapproving glares that you wilt. 

“Sorry Kim,” you mumble, scuffing your shoes on the ground. “Won’t happen again.”

It happens again.

There’s only ten minutes left in the match when you feed the ball into your midfield and time seems to come to a standstill. 

You watch on with a twisted horror as Kyra leaps up to receive your ball. She barely gets a touch on it before she’s caught on the wrong side of a flying elbow, crumpling to the ground.

The whistle blows and you can practically hear the blood pumping in your ears. One second you’re rushing across the field to be by Kyra’s side. The next you’re pivoting midstride, catching sight of the smirk on the offending player’s face. 

No one’s close enough to stop you from shoving her over. 

“You think that’s funny? Throwing your elbow into her face? Let’s see if you think it’s funny when I do it to you!” 

Steph catches you by the waist and hauls you back before anyone can test how serious you are. 

You’re still yelling and spitting when the ref stalks over, hand already digging into her pocket. 

There are boos and jeers when the inevitable comes and you throw a hand up in disgust. 

“Go on then, you gonna card her for drawing blood too?”

It’s clear your teammates don’t know what to do. 

Getting a yellow card is rare enough for you. But getting two and then being thrown out of a game? Practically unheard of in the years you’ve been at the club.

You ignore the look on their faces as you stomp all the way off the pitch and straight for the med room. You see Leah quirk her eyebrow, ready to give you an earful but you just push past, knowing full well that you’re going to get your ass handed to you later.

Alessia blinks up in surprise at the sound of the door opening.

She’s sat on top of an examining table, ankle propped on a pillow and wrapped in ice.

It only takes a second for her to realize what’s wrong with the picture. Alessia glances at the clock on the wall before her eyes flicker back to your fuming face. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” you mutter. You poke at the ice, ignoring the way Alessia hisses and slaps your shoulder. “How’s the foot? Are we going to need to amputate?”

Alessia rolls her eyes. “My foot is fine. Now what is this I hear of you getting a red card?” 

You glare at her phone, the sound of another message coming in, no doubt your mother telling Alessia about what you’ve done.

“Tell ma to stop snitching. That girl got exactly what she deserved for elbowing Kyra In the face.”

“Kyra got what?” Alessia gasps, eyes going wide.

Before you can repeat, the door opens behind you.

The two of you turn to see a sullen looking Kyra.

“Hi.” 

You don’t think you’ve ever heard Kyra so quiet before.

“Oh wow, you look miserable.” You’re not sure if Alessia thinks this is hilarious or sad, but you’d definitely say the latter.

Kyra did look miserable. Her nose is already becoming discolored, swelling and bruises become more prominent.

“C’mere,” you huff, pressing an icepack against her nose when she gets close enough to you.

Kyra hisses and tries to jerk back but you just follow with the ice.

“The sooner you stop moving the sooner your 15 minutes of icing will be done.”

You don’t even make it to the 15 before the door slams open again for the third time. 

“What did I say about getting unnecessary cards?!”

“Unnecessary?” you gwak. “Look at the kid! What part of me defending her was unnecessary?”

You backtrack. “Look at both of the kids.” You gesture wildly between Alessia and Kyra. 

Lia rolls her eyes but follows your fingers nonetheless. 

“Ma’s never going to let Less leave our house ever again, and Mini will probably drop by to kidnap Kyra and revoke our Australian baby access!”

“I’m not a baby--”

“Ma can’t stop me from moving out--”

You and Lia whip around to glare at Alessia. “You’re not moving out.”

Alessia frowns. “Whatever.” She crosses her arms. “Kyra’s a baby.”

The younger girl gasps in defiance before whimpering at the pain that radiates through her nose.

Lia looks a little exasperated when she turns back to you.

“Please. No more red cards.”

“No more red cards,” you echo. 

When Lia grabs hold of your hand, leading you back to be chewed out by your captains, you turn to get one last glance at the two troublemakers.

Alessia and Kyra are already looking your way, shooting you two thumbs up.

You shake your head.

Oh the things you do for family.

[c0eu4]

OP81 | Hard work ☁︎

Summary: After the biggest exam of her entire life, y/n found Oscar in front of her university, waiting for her.

Warning: fluff, anxious reader?

A/N: Just had some inspiration for that after one exam I had and totally fucked up it lol

MASTERLIST requests are open

Her hand hurts, she can't write anymore. Her copies filled with blue pen in front of her, she read it again one last time until the time limit rings.

A weight immediately lifts from her shoulders. She knows she succeeded. She didn't spend nights and days behind her computer, scribbling things on her notepad and repeating her lessons to Oscar for nothing.

She untied her hair down, puts her pens in her pencil case and puts it in her bag. She puts her coat on her back and grabs her copies. She puts her bag on her back, places her copies in the storage area and heads towards the exit of the building.

She closes her coat as she walks, putting on her mittens and shoving her hands in her pockets.

The cold of winter is felt. She pulls up her coat to hide her chin and leaves the building. Her cheeks and nose quickly turn red from the cold as she walks towards the gate.

Once on the other side of it, she walks towards the street which leads to the metro, to return home.

Her friends suggested that they spend time together in their usual little café but she preferred to refuse, knowing that she would be too tired after her exam.

She continues walking a few meters before seeing her boyfriend, leaning against his car, a coffee in his hand and looking at her, a big smile on his face.

She smiles when she sees him and walks more quickly towards him. She takes refuge directly in his arms, on the verge of crying. After all the stress she has accumulated, all the work she has done, she has every right to take a break. He hugged her tightly, warping his warm arms around her waist.

''I'm so proud of you my love.'' She can't help but blush a little more when she hears his compliment, his australian accent still makes her fall in love even more.

She separates from him, taking the coffee that he offers her.

''Don't burn yourself.'' She nodded quickly and took a sip of the warm liquids.

''Thank you baby.'' He kissed her forehead and opened the passenger door for her.

She sits there and Oscar sits next to her, behind the wheel. He starts the engine and drives them to their shared flat.

Throughout the trip, she talks to him about his exam. Passing by the two hundred and thirty three bananas that a man bought in a problem to triangular figures mixing the theorem of Pythagoras and Thales.

He listens to her, without interrupting her, taking advantage of her voice that he hasn't heard all day.

Once home, she continues talking about her exam. She speaks faster and faster and spreads the subject even more. And Oscar feels that it makes her stressed to talk about it.

So he cuts her off, ''Y/n, don't you want to stop talking about that ? You always speak fast when you're stressed.''

She sighed. Not in a disappointing way, but more because she knows that he's right.

''Yeah sorry if I bother you with that.'' She simply says, taking off her shoes and coat.

''You never bother me love. I just said that for you to relax.'' He takes a hanger to hang his and her coat.

They both walk towards the kitchen, she is already taking the milk out of the fridge and him rummaging on the shelf to get two cups.

It's a little ritual that they both have. Every time, when one or the other is stressed, they prepare hot chocolates. Because it's not a secret that Oscar loves chocolate and it's not a secret that y/n loves the feelings of hot liquids.

He puts the cups full of milk in the microwave and takes out the cocoa. She rummages through a shelf and pulls out some little chocolate marshmallow teddy bears.

Once the milk is hot, Oscar adds the cocoa to the two cups and a few teddy bears to his cup.

''I will never be able to understand how you drink your chocolate with teddy bears.'' She always hated putting teddy bears in her chocolate. Not that she doesn't like marshmallows, but she hates anything that's hard and gets mushy (Without a second thought).

''You don't know what you're missing.'' She puts a few bears in her mouth and eats them.

''Na you, you don't know what you're doing.'' He giggles and steals a few bears from her hands to eat it.

''Hey! I'm going to tell Mark what you're doing !''

He kisses her cheeks, putting one of his hands in her lower back, heading her towards the couch. They sit in, they cups of hot chocolate in hand, a warm blanket on them.

She is looking for a new series to watch on Netflix, Oscar eating his teddy bear with his spoon.

When she finally finds something good to watch, she takes a sip of her chocolate and gets a little closer to Oscar.

They end the day like that, in front of their series, cuddling each other.

[afro-hispwriter]

The Diamond Queen

Soldier Boy/Ben x f!supe!reader

Summary- you loved Soldier Boy, but he almost killed your brother which made you erase him completely from your life… until he pops back up

Warning- A LOT OF DIALOGUE, ooc ben(slighty), mentions of 9/11

wc- 1.5k+

-

"I think I know who can help us find this weapon." Says Annie and everyone turns to her. 

"Who?" Asks MM.

"Diamond Queen." 

"Noir's twin sister?" Butcher asks and takes a step forward while squinting his eyes. "Nobody's heard from her since 9/11 when she redirected the plane that was intended to hit the Pentagon." 

"Yeah, she is a national hero for that b-but im sorry what does she have to do with Soldier Boy? I mean Noir is her brother and all so she had to have met him at some point but I don't see how she could help." Says Hughie. 

"She can help us because she was Soldier Boy's fiancé."  Maeve's voice pierces through the air and they all look at her. 

"What about Crimson Countess?" Asks Frenchie. 

"All an act by Vought, just like when me and Homelander were together," Maeve responds. 

"This is huge why are we just finding out about this?" Hughie asks in complete shock. MM sighs and cracks his knuckles. 

"Because. Don't think the world or really Vought wanted to see the Golden Son with a black woman, even if she is a supe." 

"Vought doesn't mess with her, they give her what she wants and leave her alone, in turn, she won't mind control all of them and tell them to jump off a building." Maeve finishes and Kimiko taps Frenchies shoulder and signs,

Who's Diamond Queen?

"Oh yes. Uh her name is Y/n L/n, her skin turns to Diamonds so it makes makes her impenetrable. But when she isn't diamonds her skin is like Translucents. Her telepathy is dangerous, it's even rumored that she could control every mind in New York and make them do her bidding. As for her telekinesis, it's strong enough to stop a crashing plane coming at full speed." Frenchie whispers to Kimiko and she takes in every word.

They knew they needed the weapon that killed Soldier Boy but they were underpowered and getting desperate. So they all collectively agreed that Diamond Girl was their best chance.

"Now let's go pay the telepath a visit?" 

-

You sensed a large group of people the second they stepped foot on your property. You had a nice house on your own property, a courtesy from Vought

Three were normal, two were supes, and one who you couldn't get a grip of what you were sensing. Their thoughts were loud.

What if she's dead?

What if she doesn't even want to hear us out and makes us slit our throats for even asking? It wouldn't be the first time.

What if she wasn't engaged to Soldier Boy? 

The mention of your old lover made you drop the dish you were washing. There was no way they could know about that. You felt like you couldn't move like you were trapped in your mind. You were brought out of it due to the loud banging on your door. You wiped your hands on your pants and shakily walked to the door. 

You opened the door and the man you instantly knew as William Butcher appeared. 

"William Butcher." You looked at him and them behind him. "Hugh Campbell. Marvin Milk. Starlight. I've seen you all on TV but I don't know your names." You pointed at the man and the Asian girl, with the slightest twitch of your eye. You smiled. "Serge, or Frenchie, and you are Kimiko." 

"Fascinating." Says Frenchie and crosses his arms. 

"What do you want?" You ask and swallow, already knowing the answer. 

"We need your help," Hughie says and you bit your inner cheek. 

"You don't need me." You say and start to close the door but Butcher stops it

"We have a plan to take down Homelander." At the mention of the man's name, your breath hitches. 

"Nobody can kill Homelander." 

"That's the same thing they said about your fiancé's love." You froze and your jaw slacked. 

"H-How did y-you-." 

"I know a lot do things, just like I know that you know your lover didn't just die from a nuclear bomb." You glare at the Australian before opening the door and walking away. They took the invitation to come in and all piled in your house. You sat down and looked at the kitchen and swirled your fingers. Everyone watched a tray lift and cups move out of the cupboard. From there the refrigerator opened and a water filter came out and started filling up the cups.

"Why do you want from me?" 

"We need you to work your magic and get us to Russia." Says Butcher and a small tray with a teakettle a cup and an assortment of teas floated towards him.

"What's in Russia?" There was a deep breath that came from Annie.

"The weapon that killed Soldier Boy."

"I can find minds, not weapons." The tray of cups of water set itself on the coffee table and everyone grabbed one, besides Butcher. 

"We need your mind magic and get us to Russia." MM chimes in.

"How?"

"There is a woman who I have a history with. Bad history. She can get us a plane to Russia but she is proving to be a bit difficult." Frenchie responds.

"What's in it for me?" 

"Justice for your former future hubby." You let out a loud scoff before chuckling, confusing everyone there. 

"You think I want justice for that son of a bitch after what he did?" They all looked at each other not knowing what to think. "I'll do this to help you kill Homelander, me and Noir talk so I know what he does. But not for Soldier Boy."

"Well just as long as it gets done, I don't care who you're doing it for." 

-

You got 'Little Nina' to arrange a plane for 'The Boys' as they have been calling themselves. 

You kept this deal away from your brother, making sure that he wouldn't find out about Butcher or the others being at your house. 

After Noir's 'accident' and he lost his ability to talk. You had built a connection between the two of you so you could communicate wherever you were(as long as both of you were in an acceptable range) and whenever. 

Quite literal Twin Telepathy. 

You watched The Boys begin to board the plane. You had to make sure everything went smoothly with Little Nina's men. But just as you were about to leave, Hughie stopped you.

"Hey Diamond Queen, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Oh, Hughie please don't call me that, that name and life is behind me. And no you may not but I know you are regardless." 

"Oh sorry. Well, I just wanted to know what Soldier Boy did to you that made you hate him so much?" You crossed your arms and swallowed. 

"He did something unforgivable and after he disappeared, sure I was sad but it opened my eyes to see how much of a dick he really was. Good luck to you all." 

-

You haven't heard anything from any of The Boys since they left and it's already been a couple of days. You couldn't deny that getting brought back to anything Ben-related gave you memories. The good and the bad. 

You had almost nothing left from Ben from your time together. Just a small box of pictures and tickets from events you had gone to together. Anything else that was his was given to The Legend, including your engagement ring. 

Queenie, your Sphinx cat jumped onto the couch with you and crawled onto your lap. She purred and stretched, digging her nails into your thigh. You brought your hand behind her ears and started to scratch them, letting her blue eyes slowly close. 

"Ben would've hated you." You said with a smile. 

-

You're not sure how you missed someone walking onto your property. The knocking on your door startled you. You sent Queenie to her hiding spot and walked up to the door and peeked through the peephole. 

It was just Hughie and Butcher. You let out a sigh of relief and opened the door.

"Hey, what's-."

"Hey, beautiful." The voice that interrupted you made you freeze. You slowly turned your head to the man and your jaw tightened. 

“Ben?” Hughie and Butcher stepped back as Ben stepped forward. You looked up at him and your eyes started going glossy. “How are you here?” 

“Those guys.” Ben pointed over to the two men who were off to the side. “I thought about you every day. I was worried you were gone after all this time and holy hell baby you’re still as beautiful as the day I lost you.” Ben’s hands found themselves on your face and his thumbs wiped away your tears. You let out a shuddering breath and your hands found themselves on his chest.

Ben started to lean in but he felt his body get launched back. He went through the porch railings and tumbled through the grass until he hit a tree.

“WHAT THE FUCK.” 

-

A/n- omg everyone I actually WROTE AND FINISHED SOMETHING😭

[ladylaviniya]

The Negatives of Shooting People

Chapter 2 || MasterList || Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: A new job creates a new problem for August who decides he needs to remind you of his power. You let Lloyd inside, and he has an offer to make.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Masturbation, Referenced Non-Con Events, Implied Illegal Weapon Arms Trading, Threats, Manipulation, Stalking Journalism.

Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Author Notes: in my mind and casting, Jude Driver is played by Adam Driver. Wesley Gibson is played by James McAvoy. Brandon Sullivan is played by Michael Fassbender. Katarina Vikander is played by Alicia Vikander.

Inspiring Song: "Woman." by Ke$ha.

10:23am Thursday 8th August 2024, Brisbane CBD.

“These photos Miss Y/L/N, they’re magnificent. I haven’t seen quality this good since…well…never really…When can you start?”

You grinned, sitting across from the head editor of one of the smaller local newpapers.

You knew you had to find a job quickly…you were sick of the employment agency and their unhelpful attitude. You knew if you were going to remain safe and take down the billionaire asshole, you needed to be the best version of yourself.

It had been a three days since you first met that monster... August Walker. And he had seemingly invaded your every thought. He was there in the back and front of your mind haunting and taunting you with his smirking lips and roguishly deep voice.

The gentleman who sat in front of you had no idea. That was something you were okay with, how could anyone know? No one knew. You hadn’t called or replied to any text messages Lloyd had sent.

You made a resume portfolio of your best photos you’d taken since your first camera your dad ever bought you. Both Polaroid and electronic. You still hadn’t forgotten that August had stolen one of your father’s cameras from the day he forced you to cum on the recliner chair.

You knew you were inexperienced in journalism…but your photography was a master skill unlike any other.

Your successful interview, you put it up to a great sense of confidence, as well.

“Right now if you’ll have me,” you winked. He was an older man of an older generation. Clearly he knew and was a deep fan of Australian banter that borderlines the aesthetics of flirtation. You were a young woman and he was an older man, the math was simple. Bat your lashes, pretend to be coy and then slide in with a sarcastic remark or sexual innuendo.

He laughed and leant over his desk. You shook your new bosses hand.

He liked that very much. ‘Of course he would, he’s practically old enough to be someone’s perverted uncle.’

“Oh most definitely…” he said biting his bottom lip, he was milking the banter.

He was a handsome even for a classic perverted elder fellow. John Luther was a grey fox so the ladies might say. You were sure that from now on never to truly trust a man…so when he winked back and looked down your shirt- at your chest, you smiled wider, ‘predictable men…he is going to be easy to manipulate…’

You had to thank August one day…if he hadn’t hurt and humiliated you the way he did…you would never have felt the rage of all women and the desire to use your assets to get what you wanted in this Man’s World.

You sat back a lit and lifted your chest as you gave a big happy sigh while watching Mr Luther continuously ogle your chest.

It sent a shiver even down your spine thinking about it…entering a villainess era…a femme fatale story….a tale of revenge and justice.

“I admire a woman with confidence,” he said sucking his teeth, his right hand slide down beneath his desk out of view. You had half a mind to assume he was palming his dick in his trousers.

“So how about I assign you your first assignment? See how you go? I’ll even let you choose…”

“Choose?” you asked with a faux coyness, fluttering your lashes.

“Well, we have a very interesting story idea in regards to the Woolloongabba Doggy Day care that just moved to East Brisbane, rumour has it that the business is understaffed for the amount of dogs they keep in care. And they only use half of the required sanitization required. A spread of kennel cough and many dogs having their ears ripped off by other larger dogs belonging to rich clients the owner of the doggy day care refuses to lose business towards.”

Oh dear, you noted, that sounded tragic….it’s a good thing you never had a pet as a kid. It would hurt too much to be in that position. Hearing a pet dog had its ear ripped off by savage untrained dogs.

“...And the other case?” You sweetly chirped.

His smile fell, “There’s a certain gentleman that’s running around allegedly smuggling drugs and arm deals…” he repeated, “’Allegedly’…”

He rolled back in his chair to reach for a folder on his bookshelf, flicking through it.

Your craning neck had time to catch the outline of his prick beneath his pants. ‘Oh yes...this man is putty in my hands.’ When he swivelled back, you dashed your eyes back to his desk trinkets and smiled at him.

“A bloke named August Walker selling to or buying from an old money American philanthropist Brandon Sullivan…”

‘No fucking way’….just your luck…

You were going to fucking take it no matter what….

Luther grimaced, “It’s a big task so I won’t judge you for not taking it. I’m just hoping to catch the sons of bitches at it. It would be a huge story for media not even those wankers at seven, nine or ten news could think to report.”

You reached over his desk to steal his pen and stick note pad. You took down the name he mentioned on a sticky note- Brandon Sullivan...you made sure to memorise it well.

“How about we even make those conniving morons at sky news jealous, sir?” You smirked and watched as the rockets soared in his eyes with his white tooth grin.

He laughed hard.

He wiped his hand down his chin, “I love a girl with ambition Miss Y/L/N. I’m sure you won’t disappoint me! The dead line for photos is in a week, he’s having some soiree on next Friday or something so it’s got to be before then because you’re never gonna be able to enter those clubs, chicky. Respectfully.”

You smile and shake his hand again, “Mr Luther, I swear…I’ll give you the best goddamn shots you’ve ever seen of that criminal.”

Now your man hunt had truly commenced, you smiled to yourself. Who knew that revenge could come so easily and quickly…

Luther gave you your own cubicle to work in. A place to hang and edit your photos. A place to file your evidence. He may have mentioned that the work they did in his agency was on par with the police but by no means legally police work. So if the cops arrived, you stayed hidden and kept your fucking mouth shut....

You had a job and began researching the bastards name again on your laptop, compiling the sources from Google and the notes from Luther’s folder files.

You discovered the following about August J. Walker.

He was born in New Jersey. He was twice your age and almost as old as your father. He had a plethora of connections in businesses from alcohol distillery to Chinese restaurant vendings. Actually you were confident that a restaurant he help partnership over had a familiar logo. You tapped your lip and wondered briefly if your father ever delivered there as a truck driver.

August was a fan of European and Asian based foods and sold it at his clubs. He owned over fifteen around the world. One of his biggest in Australia was The Lions Lounge, it was on the edge of Fortitude Valley. It was for the richest social elites of the country. The price of food alone was almost your weeks rent.

On the website of his club you could see information regarding the tightship of his security. It seemed supreme so there wasn’t a chance of you going to his club without a fat purse and invitation.

A party was coming up, a celebration for the ten year anniversary of its opening. A soiree with a “The roaring 1920s.” Theme. You scoffed at the cliché.

It was exclusively invite only, it was only on the website so that those who received a invitation could reply a rsvp. And with you fresh out of luck of an invite like Luther even said, there was little to no chance of clawing your way inside.

So...that’s when you had to resort to extra creativity. You held up the sticky note and smiled.

09:07am Wednesday 14th August 2024, Robertson Brisbane.

August Walker was a man with a craving to remain in power. He had fought tooth and nail to get where he was and for now he felt incredibly comfortable…he had enough money to buy the fucking country...he had the power to make politicians kneel and kiss his shoes if he demanded it. To the police, with his legal team, he was currently untouchable.

He could literally have any woman he wanted…but he wanted you. Since that night he first saw your photo, he starved. He had given you time to mourn. Now you were alone and he righteously believed you needed him.

Yet to his surprised pleasure, he liked the fight and push you tried to dish out on him. Your guts to go to the police sent blood to his cock. He hadn’t expected it. He believed you’d roll over and cry only. He never predicted you’d immediately leave the apartment before he could wish you a good morning or afternoon after leaving you drugged up. He snooped for hours in your father’s bedroom and yours. He’d flicked through your old school reports and photos. He tried tidying your mess and clutter, washing your vomit covered duvet and even had cigarette to pass the time.

So when he received that call from the police requesting his presence, instead of anger, he felt surprise. Not many could surprise him. But you did...

He pushed away from his desk and rubbed his eyes chuckling,  you were definitely a tasty little thing.

It made his dick hard when he remembered you crying beneath him. He loved to fantasise your pathetic excuses and spitfire words. He only wished you’d push the boundary more. The more you fought, the sweeter the submission.

He pulled out his ‘other’ phone. His ‘business’ phone. The phone no police would ever know or see. He swiped his thumb across the screen and groaned at the sweet nude thing he took photos of the night you’d both met. Oh how pitifully adorable you were with your desperate pleas and confusion as the pill quickly broke down into your blood stream.

He wished he had a video of it. How he teased your phone away from you. How he mocked you. Half of it he imagined you probably didn’t remember. After all it wasn’t long that you were totally out of it, limp and softly snoring.

He liked how much control he had over you. Laying the strips over your hairy body and tearing it away to be baby smooth as he liked it. How delicate you looked as he rubbed the baby oil into your skin to settle any potential irritation. Perhaps it was sick of him to prefer you like this. He sighed, licking his bottom lip, staring at the photo he took of your freshly waxed pussy.

He had done sicker things to other people. But you were someone who didn’t deserve this. That is where the guilt lied. You didn’t deserve this and August Walker fucking new it deep in his bones.

He wasn’t shy of hurting innocence but your situation was different. This was personal.

So really could he hold it against you for going to the police? No... And besides...his false alibi had been solid... especially after the rape kit evidence had been tampered with, concluding as inconclusive...

Something about the thought of making you submit but never fully breaking, constantly challenging him- turned him on so much, he found it impossible to work. He slapped his phone down and chewed the inside of his cheek while he considered calling up Natalie, one of his go to escorts. His payable whores. She was expensive but she knew how to suck him off to completion quickly and he wanted to focus on work and finalising the details of his party in two days, not on you.

As fate would have it….he wouldn’t have a choice…the phone rang on his desk.

He pressed the reviewer to his ear and turned to look out the window.

“Walker.”

“It’s Gibson.”

He smiled and leaned back in his rolling chair, “Ah Wesley, yes, how are you mate?”

“You’ve got a little problem, sir,” he heard his public relation specialist sigh, “A tail.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sending the email now,” the click clack typing of the keyboard echoed in the headset Wesley wore,” It seems the paper has started to find better journalists…”

The email notification came in quickly. The ping from his monitor forced August to spin around in his chair. He pursed his lips and scrolled to click the link.

He hovered the mouse arrow down and noticed the collection of photos taken of him in the high class restaurants talking with a old underworld buddy of his. Some of the images however were incredibly exposing. His hand was shaking Brandons in one when he made a export deal with him, another photo showed August’s fingers touching a contract, his eyes looking at a phone Brandon was holding with images of guns. This was not good at all…

“What the fuck…” his hand pressed to his lips, he mused, “The photographer was smart, he knows how to pick a decent angle, Jesus what camera took this?” He clicked another photo, “These details…you can practically see every pore on Brandon’s bloody face…”

His mouth felt dry. He knew he needed to hire Natalie’s services now, the stressed building up had him tense. His erection had vanished, now it was a matter of pain in his shoulders and back.

He scrolled further and stared at the headlines jumping out. “Playboy or Pathological Criminal.”, “Party King or King Pin.”, “Australia’s own insider terrorist.”

His eyes widened at seeing the publishing office. John Fucking Luther & Co. News.

His jaw cracked with the tightness he clenched. No. He didn’t have time for this shit.

“She, sir,” The lackey corrected, “Newest of Luther’s flock. His word usually isn’t credible but this? This is going to be hard, expensive press to erase or cover up. Other news outlets are fighting over the rites.”

She...

He picked up a pen and clicked the button. Why was it even that important.

She...

She? His eyes sharpened. He looked closer at the photos on his screen. Something about the photo style reminded him of something earlier he had seen the previous week. So many….on a wall…beside a bed…filled with a captivating woman he defiled…but surely not you? Surely not you...

“What did you say?”

“Sir the cost to-”

He shook his head and sighed into the phone, cutting of the agent, “No, no, I meant the photographer. You said ‘she’? Luther? Are you sure this is real? His lot are the worst, always blurry or grainy if they’re lucky…who the fuck is this new photographer or editor or whoever the fuck is getting these images.”

“We can only assume,” Wesley mumbled, “You’ve had this little thing on your tail for the passed few days, she tries to be sneaky we’ve noted. We didn’t expect her to release decent pictures…we followed her back to the Luther office. The angles fit the locations we have caught her in.”

His thumb pressed hard against the pen.

“Show me this bitch,” he growled under his breath.

Another email ping and a link later, your face filled the computer screen. Your eyes burned him right back…you were in a few photos. Some where you hid among a roof top, another you were hiding in a corner at the restaurant, and finally one where you were just in a park looking down at your camera probably going over the shots you’d taken.

“Want us to deal with her, sir?” he suddenly heard Wesley ask. Deal with her...Destroy her reputation...beat her up…sell her…or kill her....no…no...not his new puppy.

He blinked with bewilderment and hummed, “No...” He cleared his throat, “No, no thankyou, Wesley. I know this kid; don’t worry…” he smirked, “This is just a simple misunderstanding…bit of…play. Trust me.”

Oh how he could’ve whipped the skin from your back raw for this if you were anyone else...

“Sir, if you can’t get her to stop, if she’s going to keep doing this…” Gibson warned, “Anything more in depth- you’ll wind up in court or prison at the worst, the pigs aren’t taking the pay like they used to…”

August shook his head and sighed, “It wouldn’t be the first time Wesley. Ignore her. I’ll deal with it. She’s my responsibility.”

His public relations officer seemed to pause for a moment. As if he had something else to say but he knew better than to total talk back to August Walker.

“Alright sir, have a good evening,” August heard before he slapped the phone, hanging up.

He scooted closer to the screen and scrolled back at the photos you’d taken. He bit his lip and chuckled, shaking his head at your profiling photo, “You little-...you want to play this game? Fine, now it’s my turn.”

He began dialling up a new phone number. He held it back up to his ear and waited for the receiver to pick up.

“Jude mate, I’m gonna need you to develop some photos for me...oh yes,” he replied pinching the pen in his hand, “Red room style.”

06:19pm Wednesday 14th August 2024, Woolloongabba, Brisbane.

“Who needs a man? Huh!” You said to yourself testing out the new bolts and chain locks you installed on the front door. They rattled and locked. They didn’t budge when you jiggled the handle and pulled. You still had three more you planned to drill in.

You wiped the sweat off your forehead and grinned proudly. This is something your dad should have taught you how to do. Thankfully with the help of a YouTube tutorial and a bit of bravery you managed to take full control and ownership of your front door.

If your new landlord wanted to charge you for damages to his door, so be it, as long as this kept you protected from him while you slept at night that was all that mattered. He’d either have to pick every complicated lock, guess or, he’d have to hire the damn firefighting crew to use a battering ram.

When you opened the door again to test it a second time, a squeak of surprised popped from your lips. You clenched your dad’s power tool tightly.

A man in a black suit and black sunglasses stood outside the door with an large yellow envelope in his hand. He held it out to you silently. He looked ominous and familiar, he wore leather gloves…your eye widened, he was August’s driver.

You glanced between him and his hands. Every second was a risk you weren’t sure you could keep taking. You hesitantly pinched the bottom of his flat package and he let go. He pulled the edge of his sunglasses down his face, looking at the plethora of door locks.

‘What was his name again? Judea, Judas?’

He said quietly, “It might be better if you open it inside...” his eyes glanced at the door again before smirking, “Nice locks...pretty crappy if you think it’s going to stop him though.”

‘Him...August Walker...’

You stood still in shock. He gracefully spun on his heel and left. Your tongue caught in your throat…what the fuck was this?

The package was as thick as your hand.

You had to know it was from August…I mean who else could it be from? Especially since you speculated it was his driver that delivered it…especially since there was a massive cursive ‘A.J.W’ on the tab of the envelope.

You held your breath and walked hurriedly backwards inside.

Your teeth caught your upper lip. You slammed the door shut and locked all the locks before going to the couch, disposing the drill on the coffee table, and tearing open the envelope.

You pinched the top wide open and hovered your eyes inside. There was a white papery page ripped out from a note book. You pulled it out and unfolded it to read his handwritten warning.

“Careful Puppy, you’re lucky my men didn’t bite when they sniffed you out, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I think you need a break from your little hobby. So I’m going to remind you...I have copies of these. Scratch me again and I’ll bite back. Stay down or I will put you down.”

Your mouth became dry as your eyes raced over that one last line again.

‘Stay down or I will put you down.’

When you ‘put down’ an animal, it usually means death…your insides grew cold. You were confident this was a strict warning, not a threat but a promise, August walker was telling you to stop investigating or he would kill you…

Your hands shook uncontrollably. You wanted them to stop. Your body felt the reeling anxiety. You dumped the rest of the envelope over the counter. All the content spilled across the entire floor. A camera came clattering out. Your father’s camera in fact.

Inside were photos of you. A photo of you working in the editor office. A photo of you walking in the deli section at the underground Woolworths grocery store and photos of you sitting at the Queen street bus station, even the bus numbers showed up. The bus 200 via Carindale. Then at the bottom of the spread out deck of photos were the shots from the night he forced you to cum on the recliner and the night he had drugged you, naked on his bed.

Your teeth clenched hard.

You felt your eyes grow hot quickly with tears. You didn’t like how pathetic and helpless you appeared, covered in tape, and totally lost in the bliss of his sexual torture. You didn’t realise how sweaty it had made you until noticing the intense wet shimmer over your body in the photo, the hot light of the camera shone reflectively from your skin.

You closed your eyes and choked on a sob. He made his point loud and clear but it wasn’t fair. Why could he get away with all of this? You wanted to tear all the photos up one by one until they were tiny papers the size of your pinky nail.

But they sat in a piled collection on your coffee table.

Your hand cupped your mouth as you fought your wails. You clenched your teeth and stomped your foot.

You kept rereading his note. Memorising his handwriting. His Y’s had a straight tail that didn’t curve upward. It made you hate him twice as much as irrational that detail was.

August hadn’t come back since then. He had not made any personal contact since he cornered you in your father’s bedroom. It wasn’t the last time you saw him though…you saw him almost daily, but you confidently were sure he never saw you until now. You were gathering all the evidence possible to put him in the doghouse...

You pressed yourself against the wall and slid down it on your back until your bottom hit the floor.

Now what would you do? Take photos and write about abused animals instead? Always worrying about August coming into your home to take his revenge for the humiliation and defamation you brought to his name?

You settled your hands into your lap. Your heart was pounding. You could hear every awful thud.

Your phone came to life. Lloyds number ran across your screen.

‘Oh god, Lloyd. Sweet, wonderful Lloyd. Maybe he could help me.’

Hitting the green button, you picked up the phone and cleared your throat, “Hey, how are you?”

His voice was a cool balm, “I’m getting on alright. I thought I’d call and check up on you. You haven’t been very chatty over text is all. I still think you should move Y/N.”

Lloyd kept you as updated as he could. He said he interviewed August a few days ago and the excuse was laughable. August had lied about being at his club during the time he had been with you. He had staff members who could vouch for him, Lloyd suggested they’d been paid off and supposedly security footage, all which Lloyd assured must’ve been edited. It was comforting knowing out of everyone, Lloyd stayed true in his belief that you were a victim.

Another tear rolled down your face, your voice became shaky, “Yea...I think you’re right. Lloyd...things have been happening...and...can you- can you just come over please?”

You were breaking down hard and couldn’t stop the wave of anguish coming over you. The detective was compassionate and said softly, “Of course. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

When the phone disconnected you rubbed your face and flared your nostrils. Seeing the photos made you feel dirty, unclean. You decided a quick shower before Lloyd arrived might help you relax and calm down from the absolute panic attack creeping under your skin. You stood under the hot spray and tried to control your breathing.

And under the water your thoughts persisted to race. A particular question shot through you.

‘Why would he even send those to me?’ Your eyes shut. ‘Why’? If you were just some women, he liked to fuck and humiliate... ‘Then why didn’t he just come in and do it in person?’

It was like a pin had dropped. Your eyes flashed wide open, and you turned off the water. You scrubbed your face and got out of the shower, rushing to put your pyjamas on. You almost slipped on the tiles and hard wood.

You crashed to your knees at the coffee table and spread the photos around trying to find that one.

The one where you were sitting inside the editor building at your cubicle. It had been taken from a low angle on the street. A small laugh escaped you. If he sent you an image of you at the office he knew where you worked, and who you worked for…he had read your articles...a light laugh escaped your parting lips. Tears dripped from your eyes, not from grief or fear, oh no, it was relief. Now it made sense.

'Of course!' August had read your articles...and they- you chuckled; they frightened him!!! Yes, maybe not to the extent of full fear, but enough that he felt it fit and necessary to send these too you. He felt threatened. The articles were piling up on speculation against him now in the paper. You were walking a thin line between defamation and creative liberties in alleged speculations, but Mr Luther assured it was legal in the laws of journalism and gossip.

If August had copies of your lewd rape photos, if he published them…you didn’t care...what was the point in caring about that?

You knew humans could be animals. It didn’t matter what was seen. Anyone can masturbate to anything, even just a selfie – so an image of you cumming on the recliner chair was really nothing at the end of the day…sure you might lose your job but the confidence to get you there would be used in the future again. And it would be all worth it just to watch the cuffs slap over August’s wrist. Because even if he’d never go away, locked up for your abuse, you could at least drag him further down with as many criminal activity charges as possible.

You glanced at the note he wrote…maybe he didn’t even write this. If he really wanted you dead, you were sure you would be. This wasn’t a threat, this was a game. He was toying with you, clearly trying to scare you into stopping any investigations of his hidden underground work.

Little did he know, he had no idea that your rage and hunger for revenge was greater than your fear of him.

You pinched a photo to the light and smirked. If only a week ago, this poor defenceless girl knew how her life would change for good...her eyes the mirror of yours. You slapped it flat in the table and pinched your eyes. August was definitely no talent in taking photos.

You smiled recalling how Luther reacted to the first photo you brought him the third day of working...

02:36pm Thursday 8th August 2024, Brisbane CBD.

On the sticky note you’d written down a name Mr Luther had shared. You looked up that name, Brandon Sullivan, with deep dive searches and found very little of him…however he did have a single photo up on his Facebook, he was holding a gorgeous woman.

Once you had reversed search the woman’s face, Katarina Vikander, you could have peed with excitement. She was some Swedish ballet dancer and super model. She was Brandons girlfriend. And she was happy to share a dozen photos over all her social media platforms…and yes, Brandon clearly wasn’t a fan of his personal paparazzi, but there were hiccups in his cover ups.

Katarina had taken a selfie on a balcony; her sunglasses reflected her phone and Brandon coming out of their hotel bathroom.

Behind Katarina was a marina in the background. That area was very rich and popular and easy to find. You recognised the area only by chance. The were staying at the JW Marriot Gold Coast Resort and Spa. You could see the JW Marriot logo on a bath robe in a previous photo while she wore a creamy face mask with cucumber slices over her eyes.

Katarina seemed to have this obsession with a Americana aesthetic, her favourite artist was in her saved Instagram stories, Lana del Rey.

The caption of her post with Brandon hidden in the background under a broad brim hat said, “Sunny and happy with my love, he doesn’t like the seafood here, he wants ‘real truffles.’ **eyeroll emoji**”

You remembered how you sat back after seeing that and searched every restaurant in the area of the Gold Coast region and only one sold authentic truffle dishes…men are fickle and usually won’t try new things…he was clearly a man set in his ways if he wouldn’t let her post photos of him. or at least that was your theory and assumption about the almost non-existent Brandon Sullivan.

You went back and searched August. He had a decent amount of information, he was very private however, no named girlfriends or family. He was very business oriented….and what did you know? Two years ago on his LinkedIn profile you could see August had been at the opening of the same little truffle restaurant nearby where Katrina and Brandon were staying. You scrolled.

‘Looks like he was or still is an investor.’

It wasn’t solid evidence, and you didn’t know if August would be there to meet with them…so all it took, was a simple phone call…and the great skill of confidence with a stride of lying.

As the phone dialed, you selected a fake name. Your co-worker had a F.R.I.E.N.D.S coffee mug, and you stared at the dark drink stain…it’s dark colour making a perfect name.

When a staff member of the restaurant answered you hurriedly got through your plotted lie, “Hello? Yes, my name is…Jennifer Brown, I’m Mr August Walkers new assistant…listen his last employee was quite begrudged and threw out all the known appointments Mr Walker was to attend in the next three months. I’m pretty sure he has a table booked for your restaurant?”

The administrator paused. You hoped he wouldn’t ask you to repeat yourself or question you further, so you sarcastically joked, “He will murder me if I can’t find out, it’s very important.”

You prayed he’d bite the banter.

The administration clerk had a boyish tone, “Of course! Would you like me to look up the time and date of his reservation?”

You smirked and held back a cackle, you feigned a sweet joyful cry, “I would be grateful if you could be a dear, thank you so much!”

And that was how you found out the schedule and exact location of August Walker and his criminal associate.

09:45am Friday 9th August 2024, Coomera, Gold Coast.

Getting inside the restaurant wasn’t too hard. It had an open-door area with French doors. You made sure to wear a large sun hat and a plain dress. Your dad owned a small camera, about the size of an apple. You put it on a timer and leant to the floor, aiming the view finder at their table.

The entire time you swore you were sweating bullets. If August had seen you and confronted you, you probably would be chained to a pipe laying naked on a dirty mattress…maybe with those missing women you heard about on the news, Rachel, Stephanie, and Alison.

‘Why didn’t he keep me then? We did he return me back home? Did he kill those other girls?’ the more you thought too deeply on the topic, it made your skin crawl.

You clenched one of the forks, staring at the kingpin in the reflection. He looked to smug for a man that got off on harming women. You wished you could stab out his eyes with the prongs. And when the waiter came around to ask what you wanted to order, you held up the fork and requested a new one, apologising for “dropping it”.

You determined the camera had taken enough footage. You knew you’d need to make your escape when the waiter left to find you a new fork. Afterall- who can afford to pay for a cut of salmon with rocket leaves and white sauce for a hundred and thirteen fucking dollars?

You went straight home on the train and bus. You developed the photos in the bathroom sink. Hanging it up on the shower rails to set.

Those were the first photos you gave Mr. Luther.

The other times you took photos of Brandon and August were harder, a little more risky.

06:23am Saturday 10th August 2024, Coomera, Gold Coast.

You had staked outside of the hotel where Brandon stayed. Waiting across the street in a side street. It was cold and miserable. But you knew August would be down here. Darling Katarina had posted a photo of her shoes in an elevator, beside her feet were Brandons shoes, but his had a shine. You could see the blur of Augusts moustached face. Maybe it was a reach, except when the caption said, “Lions Lounge anyone? Don’t my heels look incredible! **love heart eyes emoji**”

You were dressed in rags, you clenched a juul stick you bought that morning, gagging on the watermelon flavour while you practiced your “Eshay” accent. You stared up at the windows trying to guess which room the three were in with the help of the ex-ballerinas photos.

A month ago, you would’ve thought doing something like this was insane and frankly unhealthy. But you a month ago had not been humiliated and manipulated, God knows what a woman will do once you’ve pissed her off…was it obsession? Most definitely, for revenge, for justice, for all the girls who fell for August and harmed by his reputation.

You waited…and you were right. Brandon and August walking out together. The sweet young woman was clinging to Brandon’s side with a wide girlish smile and love heart shaped sunglasses. Funnily enough, the car that picked them up just so happened to be driven by the same dark headed driver in the same black car that August took you in. You took a snapshot of the license plate and watched it drive through the somewhat slow traffic down the street. You walked and walked, keeping your eyes set on the license plate. While traffic rolled, you turned and noted there were a few empty taxis.

You took off the jumper that you cut a bunch of holes in and dumped it in a garbage bin before bending down and tapping on one of the taxi windows.

“Hey! Are you available to drive me?” You called to one of the taxi drivers that hadn’t noticed you until that second...his eyes widened with surprise before nodding, “quickly, traffic is slow, hop in!”

You slid directly into the passenger side, which on a normal day you’d never dare.

But today wasn’t a normal day. You sat up in your seat and scrolled the area with your eyes.

“So where are we headed today, ma’am?” The driver asked.

You pointed ahead with a cheeky smile, “See that black car? The fancy one.”

“The tesla?” He asked.

“My friends are in that car, so please follow it. They know the way.”

He peered at you curiously, you knew it was stupid. If you had friends rich enough for a tesla, they’d never leave you to find a taxi. But hey…money is money, the driver wouldn’t argue. He started the timer and to your satisfaction traffic picked up. When they zoomed through the street the taxi tried to keep up. They were driving to a quieter street with Western Europeanised cafe’s.

As they stopped and hoped out you quickly requested to the driver, “Do you mind going around the corner? I’m a little embarrassed.”

God, you hated to say it but you had to play the suddenly snobby cunt.

He didn’t care either way to your relief and parked around the corner, metres away from the two men.

You paid the driver handsomely with cash you managed to find in your old piggy bank back home and slid out of the cab. Your face carefully looked around the corner and you skirted back. August, Brandon and Katarina had decided to sit outside in the warm morning sunlight. It was just your luck! Quickly, you crossed the street away from the cafe. The more distance the better.

To your luck it was a block of units across from the cafe. You walked around the building and kept your head down. You came up behind in an alley and smiled at the long spiral stairs that went up to the roof top. The adrenaline extinguished all fear of heights and pushed you up until you stood out on a flat roof. You crossed the way and looked over the side.

‘Fuck’, you thought to yourself. ‘Would a police officer ever do this? Would Lloyd ever have the guts to do this?’

Probably not, there was lots of red tape involved in police investigations...but you were just a reporter...You were a photographic investigator and you amazed yourself at the lengths you were taking. You were eager to get these shots. This evidence.

You saw the pair of businessmen receiving a cup of tea and breakfast meals from the waitress. Getting down onto your tummy, you grabbed your camera and leant over the ledge to zoom in on the two.

The pumping blood roaring in your vein filled you with a mixture of fear, excitement and surprisingly…arousal.

Those were the photos that made it to the papers first.

06:35pm Wednesday 14th August 2024, Woolloongabba Brisbane.

As you reminisced on the evidential demise of August Walker, a knock at the door designed a bigger grin across your face. Lloyd had arrived. And no longer standing in a fit of sobs you welcome him cheerfully at the door.

He was wearing a black turtleneck and black slacks, totally out of uniform. Below his eye was a reddish spot. It was shining against his pale face. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was a bruise.

‘Many police are brutal and cruel but there’s no way Lloyd is one. He isn’t one of those cops...he must’ve been attacked by some bogan eshay or crackhead.’

His smile turned your knees to warm jelly. You felt shy like some first year highschooler being noticed by the seniors. He just had this glow around him.

“Hi Lloyd.”

“Hello there,” he said softly, his head cocked to the side, “Do you mind letting me in?” He asked.

‘Oh right.’

“Come- come in.”

You felt your face grow warm. You opened the door wider and looked out and down the hall. You held your breath and stood aside. The tall man slid passed you inside to your lounge room.

You took a massive breath in and exhaled. No one was waiting behind a corner or ready to catch you with the officer. You knew there were no security cameras and you doubted August would ever add any with his reputation.

Lloyd removed his leather shoes and placed them beside the door. His black socks glided over the hardwood.

You bit your lip…you looked back at the coffee table and quickly shut the door, bolting the locks after the detective entered your flat.

If August knew you were letting a detective inside, continuing to talk to one he could-…’Well, hold on...how would he know? He wouldn’t.’

“Woah, locked me in, what are you doing?” Lloyd gasped as he glanced over the metal mechanisms of your door. His eyes widened when you twisted the locks and shifted the small chains.

“I just...um. August Walker.... he’s kinda now...my new landlord and he probably will be getting keys soon and I....” your breath wavered. You paused and took a deep breath, “I needed to talk to you privately in person I think....”

His eyes didn’t grow any wider, but his pupils shrank. He pinched his dark pink lips. Sucking his teeth loudly he nodded slowly.

“That’s definitely a pickle you’ve been put into then, huh?”

You nodded back, pressing yourself against the door, sighing softly, “That’s not even the half of it Lloyd...”

His eyes raked up and down your body in surprise. You weren’t wearing your bra and your nipples were rock hard. Your pyjama bottoms were very short and little did you realise how much they were riding up your thighs.

You walked around him timidly to the coffee table.

“I got a new job, as a photographer journalist, no real experience required just my luck honestly,” you awkwardly laughed, “August um, he’s supposedly up to no good and I thought I could have a jab at him from a professional angle…”

You sat yourself in the recliner, while you invited him to sit opposite of you on the couch where he’d be able to properly look at all the photos.

He looked frightfully tired. His hair was dishevelled, and his shirt was stain with sweat. He had a nasty purple bruise on his knuckles that also matched the one under his eye.

You lifted your knees to your chest and worried about how much trouble this man was getting into as well as you. You wondered if it was like television shows where detectives mostly focus on the darkside of the force.

You gestured to the photos. You weren’t sure how he would react. He sat on the couch and peered across the coffee table, glancing over the images. It took him a few seconds before a gasp of shock ripped from his throat.

You tapped on the photos where you’d been stalked and seen taking photos of August, “Well, it shows he’s not one to have his photos taken...”

He was shaking his head. He couldn’t stop staring at the nude photos. And for a few seconds you relived that feeling of embarrassed humiliation.

You could see how his throat bobbed and his eyes flutter.

He leant forward on his knees and licked his lips.

“I...and here I had called you to check up on you and I was going to ask you for help Y/N, but god I don’t know if that’s gonna work now,” he sighed.

The detective ran a finger across your face in the lewd photos.

Your eyes narrowed, “Wh-what do you mean?”

There was a lengthy pause.

He chewed the inside of his cheek before asking, “How much do you hate what August did to you?”

You didn’t hesitate, “I’d kill him for what he’s done if I knew I wouldn’t go to prison…” you briefly looked down, “He…he came back like you said...”

Lloyd eyes glanced down too and he sighed, “Thought as much…let me guess…he threatened you?”

Your eyes fluttered closed, August had done more than just threaten you.

You nodded slowly, “He…he did…but he…is possessive, he kept saying I was his and I belong to him.” You pointed to the photo of you taped up on the recliner.

His brows pressed together, his eyes saddened. He clear his throat, “How long ago was that?”

Your mouth grew dry. You felt embarrassed telling Lloyd.

“The day of the report, after you brought me home.”

His eyes widened, his hand rubbed his parted lips, “So he ugh…he was here already?”

You nodded again, “The call you made… he was standing right here with a knife in his hand.”

“That’s why you have those deadbolts huh?” The officer rubbed his eyes and groaned, “Fuck. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me after he left? I could’ve moved you, you could’ve stayed with me at least until I could put you into witness protection. Fuck!”

His swearing sent a shiver down your spine.

Your looked at your feet, you knew he wasn’t victim blaming, he just didn’t understand. You told Lloyd everything…confessed like he was your priest. You told him what August did with the vibrator despite it bringing you to tears again. You told him he was the new landlord and that’s why you installed the extra locks. You told him about your new job and you told him about the photos and how you were going to help however you could to put the bastard away.

You sat off the recliner and slid the photos back into the envelope.

“You’re very brave Y/N,” Lloyd whispered, he reached out and laid his warm hand on top of yours.

Your belly felt warm at the praise. You let him hold your fingers in his and rubbed his thumb over your skin. You stared at his blonde moustache and those bright clue eyes of his. You imagined his mouth scratching your lip if you only leant in closer...he was still as handsome as the day he patiently listened to you in the report.

Lloyd smiled softly.

God if you were a cat you would’ve been feral and in heat with how creative your imagination was getting.

Your eyes fluttered as your entire body warmed up.

“Y-You said you needed help with something?”

He smirked, letting go of your hand.

He claimed, “After what you’ve told me I’m confident you can do it...but you might not like it…”

“Try me,” you huffed, falling victim to his contagious grin.

“I have two tickets to August’s little Soiree at his club The Lions Lounge,” He started off, “My other sources have confirmed there is going to be some form of arms deal with some unsavoury company, illegal, unregistered weapons. August Walker is very good at knowing the law and requesting a warrant… but the sources I have are not substantial to the board to guarantee a warrant by that night and by that time Walker would’ve moved the weapons and sold them in a different location.”

You pieced it bit by bit.

“So you need to get inside the party, find the deal going down and bust them?”

“Exactly, that’s right! However the moment a single man waltzes to the front door it looks suspicious. I need a lady on the arm…and better yet…I need a distraction for Walker, if he sees me head on, I could be as good a shark chow.”

Your eyes lit up, it didn’t take a genius to realise he meant you. You would be the distraction. And you’d be damned before you put yourself in real danger again especially after the threat August had given you...your photos were taken in public, this would be in private. Anything could happen to you.

“No… that is too dangerous, Lloyd,” You stood up and paced the floor in front of Lloyd who was now also rising to follow you in your pacing. You walked around your kitchen and Lloyd put his hands on the bench beside you.

“Y/N…” he bent close in a whisper. You wouldn’t look at the detective. Fear was buzzing inside of you. You felt stupid about saying you’d do anything to take August Walker down now. You really wanted to just humiliate the man and call him up in prison one day and rub it in his face. But this? This was a game of cat and mouse and you didn’t want to be backed up into a corner again.

“I wouldn’t be asking you if this unless I had to...”

You bit back the whimper in your throat as Lloyd touched your shoulder gently.

“He let you live…he has a soft spot for you.”

‘He threatened to put me down.’

He turned you around and squeezed your arms while he pitched the plan, “What’ll happen is we enter the club, I find the dealers and you find Walker because he will be hosting the party, he will want to know why you’re there and you are going to tell him that…you wanted to see him.”

You rubbed your eyes angrily, “Why the fuck would I want to see him?!” your fingers felt moist, you’d been compelled to tears.

The kind eyed detective sucked his teeth, “I don’t know, make it up. Kiss him. Men don’t care about a thing once a pretty thing is kissing them.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. No, this wasn’t the Lloyd you had imagined.

“Oh,” you chuckled sourly, “So you’re pimping me out then?”

He gave you a dumbfounded look, “Call it whatever you want…you’ll be paid good money for your service and he’ll be arrested, in prison, unable to touch you. You can run away and move to wherever you want then.”

Your breath was shaky as you dared to ask, “How much?”

His left brow rose.

“How much would I be paid by the Queensland police or Australian defence department or whoever this is through?”

He sighed and gently laid a hand on your shoulder, “Around fifteen grand.”

Your breath escaped you. From near negatives to fifteen grand overnight? That much? For this job?! You were stunned…not sure if it was worth your life…but if it meant he only humiliate you one more time and you walked away with that much money…you’d do it.

You shook your head, “Fine, it’s this Friday night yea? His club is high-class and I don’t have clothes for that type of event.”

The tall man stood back and chuckled as he tug into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet. He pinched a wad of cash and slapped it in the benchtop. Your eyes widened, holy fuck it was a month or two in rent alone…

“Go buy some. But you have got to be ready. At Seven o’clock I’ll pick you up an hour before the event and we can refresh what we know before we line up.”

You glanced between him and the money and nodded….”Alright, let’s…let’s do this.”

He laughed and clapped his hand excitedly, he leant in and gave you a fat kiss on the cheek. Nothing romantic, just pure joy.

“Thankyou so much Y/N you are going to be hailed a hero, a legend in my books!” He marched back to the couch and grabbed his blazer.

“You are a special person and I’m honoured to have met you! Really honoured!” He said as he unlocked all your bolts. He swung the door open and slammed it behind him.

You sighed and fell back against your cold fridge.

You weren’t sure you could pull this off….but as your eyes looked over the cash, the corner of your lips lifted.

You shut your eyes and sighed…all that money, it made your blood pulse. You returned to the lounge room and sat in the recliner. You laid back, staring at the ceiling. Your hands crawled down, passed the waist band of your pyjama shorts and underwear. You touched yourself and sighed.

Your fingers rubbed delicately against your clit while you leant against the kitchen bench.

You tried to imagine someone...Lloyd…the detective. He had a warmth his face. Lloyd would never rape you though, he was good, he was honest…

You moaned softly, imagining his warm hands groping your skin and his lips kissing your skin.

Fingering yourself, in and out, in and out.

You were imagining Lloyd speaking to you. He was currently the most attractive man you’d made contact with in weeks...other than August who essentially raped you.

What kind words would Lloyd say? “I washed our clothes, finished the dishes, now come here and let me fuck you.” ‘Oh yea that’s fucking hot.’

You imagined he would be gentle and soft before using more strength in his hips. His lips would be soft and hot. He would protect you and play sexy policeman. You might not have been a fan of the justice system but you were confident Lloyd would fill in a police uniform very well.

So why did your body start to dry up?

You didn’t know what you were doing wrong. You were riding your fingers and teasing your clit…why couldn’t you cum? You felt weird doing this now. It was strange to think before you met August you could cum very easily, after your dad- well you hadn’t touched yourself because you weren’t thinking about sex for a while until the millionaire stepped into your life.

After the third time of unsuccessful release, you punched the arm of the chair and started searching sex toys on your phone.

You weren’t totally sure if the prices were worth it for a piece of painted pink silicone. And there were strange shapes you were amazed were even designed to fit into a human….‘a whole fist? Surely that’s satire,’ you thought, ‘it shouldn’t be possible. It would be like reverse birth?’

You settled on buying a “rabbit dildo with thrusting pleasure.” You rolled your eyes at the name. You slapped your phone down and sighed, rubbing your eyes.

The hour was late.

Your first paycheck would be coming in soon. It was the smell of a small victory.

10:33am Friday 16th August 2024, Queen Street Westfield Shopping centre, Brisbane.

“What should I wear…” you hummed as you flipped through the dresses. Some of these dresses cost the amount of a new iPhone. You bit your lip. ‘Maybe I can return them tomorrow and give Lloyd his money back?’

A sales clerk came up, “Need some help?” She was blonde, curvy and tall. A supermodel compared to your body. You blushed.

“I’m looking to wear something to one of the high end clubs like The Lion Lounge, he’s having a nineteen twenties theme soiree this evening?”

Her lips widened, “Well, we do have many suitable gowns and even pantsuits for that social class, what designer were you thinking?”

You balked and worried that she would see you sweat, “Oh…I um…I’ll be super frank…I have not a clue what I’m doing…it is my first time to something so spectacular.”

The clerk’s eyes softened, her lips pursed, “Well! Let me help you then! These gowns you’re looking at are definitely not old twenties glam worthy! Right this way!”

Your cheeks buzzed as you were led into a dressing room and made to try on multiple styles, designers and colours of dresses.

She asked if you were getting your nails done and gasped when you said you hadn’t thought about it.

She was like a fairy godmother. She went the extra mile to call up the other stores in the mall to book appointments. You hadn’t felt so pretty ever in your life until then

She appeared stunned by the cash you laid on her counter.

Your nails were french tips with a holographic clear coat. You received a quick arm and leg wax and eyebrow shaping. The makeup matched the entire outfit. Your dress clung to your best assets and shaped your body with a clutch purse and low heels to match. Your hair was gelled and hairsprayed down into finger waves. And a lather of pearls circled around your throat and wrists.

The long finger of your dress tickled your calfs down to your small kitten heels.

You looked incredible, it took your breath away to see the glow up….

Lloyd thought so too.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[kiwisa]

brew-tiful ✩ dr03

Daniel Ricciardo x Fem! Barista! Reader

fluff • 500 words

IN WHICH... daniel should look at what he's ordering instead of making eyes at the pretty barista.

Anyone who happened to cross paths with Daniel every morning at 8:38 sharp, in that little cafe whose name never interested him, thought his caffeine addiction was beyond reason.

Mistakenly, but he could see where they were coming from.

If the black liquid was, indeed, an integral part of his life now, it was only because of the woman behind the counter, who he sacrificed a few dollars to every day. And God knew how much those little coins spent on this drink amounted to a fortune.

Even though money had never been an issue, let alone now ⏤ thanks to Red Bull and his new contract ⏤ he couldn't help but grit his teeth at the receipts piling up in his wallet. He couldn’t even bring himself to think of the sum spent between these four walls. Otherwise, a few tears would paint his face blue. For sure.

He didn't even like coffee... For that demonic liquid — seriously, who could drink this and enjoy it? — to slide on his tongue without making a grimace appear on his face, its bitter taste had to be drowned in milk and at least three sugars.

So why bother? You must wonder, dear reader.

“Ah Danny! I was starting to believe you weren't coming today!”

It was for that voice, full of joy, tenderness, and that laughter whose notes must have been put end to end by angels. It was for you, Y/N L/N, that the Australian man came here daily, even when his wallet was crying in pain, even when coffee was the bane of his entire existence.

“And not see my favourite barista? Impossible.”

There was something about you that made his heart panic, warmed his soul, and made him want to throw up sometimes because of your kindness. A rather interesting mix: some would call it “feelings.” You were the personification of happiness, a ray of sunshine in his life constantly marred by the routine of travel and racing.

Cheeks flushed, mind wandering to fantasies of his hand in yours, his lips against your forehead, he didn't notice the almost loving gaze you placed on him, nor did he feel your fingers brushing against his as you gave him the cup. An espresso. Hell in liquid form.

Not in your eyes, however, who constantly praised it. You had suggested it to him on his first visit ⏤ saying that it was your favourite way to drink coffee ⏤ and since then he had not yet broken this unspoken rule to order one daily.

Thanking you, avoiding your gaze, Daniel hastily left the cafe, like every morning at 8:46.

Like every morning at 8:47, he tried to take a sip of this infamous brew.

Like every morning at 8:51, he dropped the still hot drink in the bottom of the closest trash can.

Like every morning at 8:51, he didn’t notice the number written in a messy way, as if in a hurry, on the cardboard cup.

Better luck tomorrow, you thought.

✩ taglist !

@sad1esgf @muglermami @i0veless @16solace @kenanlotus0 @till1am @itsnotgray @lilsiz @starkwlkr @missflobelova @mehrmonga @fxllfaiiry @crimeshowjunkie @anicega @kosmosgalore @lovemarvel16 @charles-dimple @hiding-behindmy-glasses @exatse @serenityleah @flowerchild-96 @hopiiex @ivegotparticulartaste @jivas0 @screechingtrashkid @gxp30 @lauren--maex

[flyonthewallmedstudent]

Q Fever

Aka, Query fever. What a weird name for a disease. Imagine telling people that's what you got.

in the 30s-40s, an Australian pathologist in QLD/Brisbane, came across an outbreak of the same or similar illness among abbatoir or slaughterhouse workers.

At the time, he called the disease "Q" fever or query as a temporary name until the pathogen could be identified. Unfortunately it stuck.

decades later, now nobel prize winner and virologist, MacFarlane Burnett isolated and identified the microbe responsible. I think this discovery contributed to his prize. i forget already.

Microbe responsible: Coxiella burnetti. Named for Burnett and HR Cox, the American bacteriologist who found the genus Coxiella where C burnetti falls under.

Initially they felt it was related to Rickettsia, responsible for Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, but as science progressed, this was disproven.

Now for a Case Report

A 55 yo Italian man with a history of aortic valve replacement was diagnosed with pyrexia of unknown origin twice. Further signs included myalgias/splenomegaly/night sweats. The 2nd time he was admitted for PUO he deteriorated rather dramatically and was put on meropenem and teicoplanin.

A host of organisms was tested for on serological testing based on the man's travel and epidemiological history, all negative. Even a rheumatological panel was done, also less revealing. He also had a history of MGUS (a haem disoder), which is kind of a red herring here.

Cultures were negative, no vegetations were seen on a TTE - so they did consider IE. Which is an important differential for PUO.

Eventually a PET-CT was done (often favoured when investigations do not yield much for a sick patient with fevers), finally revealing a focus of infectious on his ascending aorta, where he'd also had previous surgery done. And in a round about way, they also further identified Coxiella Burnetti. He was treated doxycycline and hydroxychloroquine. As it's so rare in Italy, it wasn't really considered even though he mentioned rural travel.

Bottomline: Q Fever is an important consideration in the work up for culture negative IE. Further to this, always consider IE in the differentials for PUO particularly if they're at increased risk for IE (prosthetic valves, damaged valves, select congenital heart issues, previous IE). IE can present with night sweats, fevers, weight loss and splenomegaly. It can be insidious and chronic in nature. other risk factors can be more suggestive as we'll get into below.

Causative organism

Coxiella burnetti, it's a zoonoses - i.e. transmissible from animals. Special powers: very tough/hardy, can survive extreme environments (high temps and UV light etc.) over prolonged periods and is resistant to many common disinfectants/surface cleaners.

It's an intracellular pathogen and gram negative coccobacilli (PINK!)

name coccobaccili reminds me of cocopuffs.

it's mainly associated with farm animals, which the CDC so wholesomely displays on its website on Q fever (wtf).

goats, sheep, cattle typically (but many other animals, even birds, dogs and horses can be reservoirs)

in particular bodily fluids - amniotic fluid, placenta, faeces/urine, milk etc.

you can get it through unpasteurized milk and through inhaling it if it lands on dust in the area

ever visit a farm or petting zoo lately? OMG WASH YOU HANDS.

That said, it's typically inhaled in inorganic dust. You inhale it, it goes to the lungs, and then the bloodstream.

Increased risk for Coxiella burnetti (What to take on history of exposures and when to strongly consider it)

live on a farm or near one

exposure to a farm

work as a vet on a farm

farm worker, dairy workers, researchers on these animals/facilities

slaughterhouse/abbatoir

Also from CDC:

Clinical presentation

Most won't get sick after exposure and remain asymptomatic, a very small minority does. even though it is highly infectious.

incubation time is 2-3 weeks (consider this time in your history of exposure, did they work on the farm 2-3 weeks ago as opposed to yesterday).

Nonspecific acute infectious symptoms:

nonspecific systemic fevers/malaise/arthralgias/myalgias--> key is high fevers though and can be associated with headache and photophobia.

non specific GI - N/V/diarrhoea

respiratory ones - SOB or cough, consider it as atypical cause of community acquired pneumonia.

rare: hepatitis and jaundice (granulomatous) or encephalitis with neurological complications such as demyelinating disease or CN palsies, also haemolytic anaemia and HLH (yikes)

really it's the history of exposure that will lead you down the garden path to Q fever.

Chronic Q fever is perhaps worse, and can present as culture negative IE/PUO. Months/years later, as B symptoms as above above + LOW/LOA, night sweats. More likely to occur if you are predisposed for IE as above, have a weakened immune system for any reason, including pregnancy.

Chronic Q fever has a mortality of 10% if left untreated. About <5% of those with acute Q fever develop this if left untreated. Speculation is that it's more of an autoimmune process or abnormal immunological response to the bacteria.

To be honest, most who walk in the door with community acquired pneumonia get treated empirically for atypicals anyway, (standard course of doxycycline), so we hardly really ponder the question of Q fever in every patient. But if they present chronically and did not have atypical cover at the onset of acute symptoms, then it's something important to consider.

Other important conditions - can cause complications in pregnant women and 20% will get post Q fever syndrome. like chronic fatigue.

investigations

Serology! nice and easy. Look for IgG antibodies in the chronic presentation. Or PCR. Down side to serology - can take 2-3 days for the body to make said antibodies to the bacteria for detection. PCR can be done on any fluids/tissue sent.

Cultures useless, hence it fall under the umbrella of culture negative (hard to grow outside a host cell, it is an obligate intracellular pathogen).

Other hints on bloods (as serology/PCR takes time to return) - elevated or low platelet's, transaminitis with normal bili, opacities in CXR with hilar lymphadenopathy, CSF will show raised protein levels if done when encephalitis is suspected.

imaging can also support the diagnosis.. as illustrated by the case report.

Treatment

Acute disease - as standard for atypical bugs, doxycycline 100 mg BD for 14 days. Alternatives - TMP SMX or Clarithromycin.

Chronic Q fever or IE:

native valves: doxycycline and hydroxychloroquine (200 TDS) for 18 months

prosthetic: same but 24 months

why hydroxy: enhances the action of doxycycline (increases the pH of the phagolysosome)

Follow-up: look for 4 fold decrease in IGG

Sources:

CDC

Stat Pearls

Wiki as linked above

[rokishimizu4]

Signal’s Fast Food Adventure

(I’m gonna be finishing up the BatFam headcannons on my tumblr, then take a small break before starting my actual BatFam story on my AO3, as I’m gonna be starting my new job soon and I need to get it into my routine. Doesn’t mean that I’ll quit posting, but I’ll be posting on my other blog more than on this one.) (Also, Reader is small and has those soul stealing gray/blue eyes, you’re welcome)

To say that Duke was so happy to be stuck on the day shift due to his powers and such would be undermining the sheer wiliness of Tim, who can barley stay awake during meetings on a good day, to replace him for an entire week after the spider incident.

Duke, while facing worse things than a giant spider that wasn’t even gonna hurt anyone, had allowed Tim to join him. Not because he was terrified that Tim would find someway to get him to agree, like putting a fake spider in his bed or something, certainly not.

But he was incredibly thankful when Tim returned to the night shift. Not that his brother was bad at being a daytime bat, but Duke knows that the daytime rouges would appreciate not getting a double dose of roasting from two bats (One bat bringing up mommy issues was enough, thank you)

Plus, the daytime rouges were polite enough not to attack during lunch rush (As the line to any fast food place, not to mention restaurant and gas stations, were packed with already hangry people) and mostly tried to pull off a few bank robberies instead of trying to blow shit up.

Speaking of the lunch rush, Signal sits down on the roof ledge overlooking some of the fast food places/ Restaurants that busy rouges and Gothamites frequently stop to grab a quick bite to eat (That a few tourists go to as well if they’re brave enough), and waits a good half an hour before making his way down once the crowd thins out enough that he could get in and out without being recognized. (Hopefully)

He waits a bit more, until he notices that someone was stepping out of the Batburger and placed a sign out a bit away, then turning back and going back in.

Signal smiles to himself, before dropping down onto the empty sidewalk and casually walking past the sign into the restaurant. (Which reads: Closed for cleaning, this is not an invitation to rob us! Signal is watching!)

The bell rings with the pleasant dings of common dinner bells (not unlike Alfred’s little dinner alarm) as the smell of pure greasy food assaults Signal’s nose as his mouth begins to water and his stomach growls.

“Hey Mr. Signal! Got your order up and ready!” A man back behind the counter calls out with a smile, a gray wife-beater hugs tightly to the man’s chest and eagerly clings to his prosthetic hand/arm and steel plating. The man had a weird Australian/Canadian accent, but the man’s skin reminded Duke of a cup of coffee with either too much milk or too little (depending on the light, he guesses)

Signal just gives the man (who he’s not sure what the guy’s name is as he has no name tag) a smile and a nod. Eagerly taking the bag of four bat burgers and a large fries and setting money on the counter.

He turns to leave, but stops when he accidentally bumps into someone (much smaller than him cause he was almost reaching 6ft).

Cue him looking down into the pouting storm clouds above a flooding river eyes of a very small person, of whom was wearing a knitted purple and turquoise sweater and ripped jeans, and something in his chest flutters like when he first met Damien and won his respect after a brutal patrol.

“Sorry little one. Here, let me help you back up.” Cue Signal reaching up and gently grabbing the kid’s? Hand and starting to help them up, only for his powers to activate mysteriously.

”SHIT CLOSE YOUR EYES!”

Cue Signal running out of the restaurant and back up onto the roof of the tallest building close to the sun.

Cue Signal experiencing a different type of ‘ghost vision’, one were he feels a brief flash of pain of a needle prick, and a taste of chocolate. But, he sees nothing but white, hospital white but different.

Once, the vision is over, he rushes back down to the Bat Burger. However, the person he accidentally ran into was already gone but he swore that he could make out a faint smell of bitter chocolate. (Which was weird as there were nothing made with chocolate in the Bat Burger, not after the Riddler broke the Milkshake and ice cream machines months ago.)

“Hey Mr. Signal, back for a new meal?” The Australian/Canadan man asks as he points down to the ruined bag that was supposed to be Signal’s meal. (Smoking like it got lit on fire and everyone was too lazy to even put it out correctly)

*Biggest dramatic, one full of regrets getting up this morning, sigh* “Yes please.”

(Let me know if you want the reader to be an actual adult, teenager, or a child. Also, I’m like 5’2” but I’m an adult. I feel more and more like I should make the reader a child, so please let me know)

(Also if I should do a Eddie/Venom headcannon too)

[gamermaxy]

astrology/crystal girlie (gn) daniel/geologist max

‘Hey, mate,’ the trespasser says, scratching his head. ‘I uh, I was wondering if I could uh get some Gypsum.’

Max stares back at the stranger, studying the way his right eye and nose are scrunched upwards as he continues his bizarre request. The Dutchman’s eyes stay steely as the attractive Australian looks back at him waiting for an answer.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, the curly-haired brunette begins to ramble, ‘it’s just that Gypsum is good for the personal journey and like growth, ya know? And I read there’s a lot here and it’d be cool if I could get some. Kinda desperate for that spiritual growth.’

Max blinks slowly, eyes never leaving the man in front of him. He wouldn’t be able to, even if he willed himself to. The stranger rocks from side to side, picking at his fingernails and Max knows that he’s uncomfortable.

‘That is, of course, very stupid,’ the Dutchman says indignantly. ‘If you said you wanted to make chalk, I would have told you that is very stupid and it is easier to buy chalk from a shop but I would give you a chunk. But you are asking me for Gypsum to….’

‘Help me fix my life? Yeah. And fuck you, mate,’ the stranger huffs, crossing his arms. The Dutchman notes how anger swirls in the stranger’s eyes, mixing like milk in coffee. Max decides he doesn’t like anger on the other man, it dilutes the warmth manages to exude in the strong Australian sun. ‘You coulda just said no, but ya had to be a cunt, didn’t ya?’

[dinosauring130]

about your 2 truths 1 lie: was the chocolate icecream u lost ur first tooth to in a cone or was it some other kinda icecream? describe the flavour in lots of detail thank you <3

Hi!!!

It was chocolate ice cream in a bar form. Specifically, it was a chocolate Paddle Pop, which is an Australian ice cream bar on a stick. The best way I can describe a chocolate paddle pop is tasting like chocolate milk. The chocolate flavour isn't super obnoxious and it's not overwhelmingly sweet (as far as I can remember. I lost my first tooth in 2011 and I haven't eaten a chocolate paddle pop in at least 5 years). It's really creamy though, which is why I associate the flavour with chocolate milk or a chocolate milk shake.

For reference:

^A google image of a paddle pop

[awesomeapplegirl]

Episode 7 thought lets go

-Once agin the show has made me feel 100 years old with the milk from the 90’s comment

-“I mean we’re all dying in a way” hilarious

-“You can buy yourself a new whistle” even more hilarious

(But rip ‘it was a big bathtub’)

-Cerberus is defeated with scritches and ball - hades your dog needs enrichment

-The design of hades palace is so cool holy shit

-Oh i have been that child sitting listening in on conversations about your brain and all the ways its wrong and it is no fun. Poor baby Percy. Poor Sally too.

- and the obligatory post new school interview ice cream date thats just filled with guilt and shame from every side

- im obsessed with the awkwardly long hades walk

- let me start the conversation half a kilometre away and just shout across the throne room

- hades being the awkward pun uncle is amazing

- the beautiful reveal that hades has no idea

-“I rarely cahoot”

- I love Hades so much

- he just wants his shit back and to chill in his opulent upside down hell palace

- “and the goat, I’ll throw that in for free” 😂

- im obsessed

- Percy ‘difficult is my middle name’ Jackson will not be handing over the bolt

- “hold fast mom” 😭

- POSEIDONS IN THE HOUSE

- and Australian?

- i feel like camp half blood should really set up visiting hours

Final thoughts

I really love that the show is showing us how some gods are trying to do better (Poseidon, Hephaestus, Hades) while some are just clinging to the past and their old ways (Dionysus, Ares) and how Percy and the other half bloods are going to be a force for greater change

Anyway I’m loving the show its great

[liightsout]

the blue - part four

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

✯ summary: mattie goes out for drinks with the boys. danny and mattie get to know each other a lil better ✯

✯ pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!oc ✯

✯ content warnings: light swearing, alcohol consumption, danny and mattie being sickeningly cute ✯

✯ now playing: vienna - billy joel ✯

✯ series masterlist ✯

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Feb 2021

It had been around six weeks since Mattie had met Daniel. Although it certainly hadn’t been the last time she had thought about him. Far from it in fact. 

She caught herself thinking about the Australian every time she found herself in the cafe across from her flat, buying her usual iced oat milk latte and blueberry muffin. 

It was on the Monday morning after their introduction that she had found out from one of the baristas that a tall, charming Australian man had come into the cafe early Saturday morning and had awkwardly asked the staff if they knew what the “pretty girl called Mattie who lived across the street’s favourite muffin was”. 

She found herself thinking about him most evenings as she curled up on the sofa. Subconsciously she would inhale the intoxicating scent now attached to her blanket and she would be reminded of those glowing brown eyes and gleaming smile. 

It didn’t help that her roommate appeared to have developed a bromance with her new found crush. Just when she had managed to shake the thought of Daniel Ricciardo from her mind, Adam would be there to bring him up again and again. 

“Did you know Danny has a clothing line? He said he’d send me some of the new stuff from before it drops” 

“Look at this meme Danny just sent me, you’re gonna die, it’s so funny!” 

“I think Danny is going to smash it this year. I’ve got such a good feeling about it” 

Adam had even taken to joining Daniel during his work out sessions with his coach and long time friend Michael. 

She simply could not shake Daniel Ricciardo from her brain. 

It was made even worse when she had woken up one morning and saw the notification  danielricciardo has requested to follow you on Instagram. She had stared at her phone for a good while before her hands finally started working again and she was able to navigate her way to the app in question. She had nervously debated what to do for a few minutes before concluding it would be weirder if she didn’t accept the request. 

Wouldn’t it? 

Either way, she now found herself reeling at the knowledge that the most gorgeous man she had ever seen had taken the time to request to follow her on Instagram. She knew in the deepest parts of her brain that she was over romanticising the action. A habit she found herself doing a lot. Adam would blame it on the hundreds of Romance novels she had read over the years. 

She decided to squash her over-active imagination by reminding herself that Daniel had probably only followed her due to his budding friendship with Adam. Although, he did only follow 398 other people. He had millions of followers. Endless possibilities of people he could follow, and he chose for her to be one of them. It shouldn’t have made her feel as special as it did. 

It was lunchtime on a Saturday in February that the opportunity to see Daniel again in person arose. 

“I’m going out with Danny and Lando later, just a few drinks down the pub if you wanna join?” Adam’s first plea had come early that Saturday afternoon. She had told him she’d think about it, but not to get his hopes up. He knew the score, she wasn’t one for going out and partying. She found comfort in a quiet night at home, curled up on the sofa, a vinyl spinning and a good book in her hands. 

It was around 6PM when his attempts continued. 

“Please come Mattiea! It’ll be one of the last times we get the chance to go out properly before the season starts and you know how much I miss you when I’m gone! It won’t be a crazy one, just a few pints down the pub and then home and in bed by 11PM. I promise!” 

Adam knew her weak spots. He knew she wouldn’t be able to turn him down once he mentioned the fact he’d be leaving again soon. He also knew she couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes. She never could, even when they were kids. It was how he had convinced her to go joy riding in his dad’s car around the old abandoned airfield when they were 16. But that was a story for another day. 

She weighed up her options. She could go out with them for a few drinks. She would make sure she didn’t stay for too long and would only have 1 or 2. She didn’t want to allow any opportunity for further embarrassment or for her crush to develop even stronger. The latter she feared would be inevitable with any time she spent in the presence of Daniel Ricciardo. 

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Mattie pulled nervously at the skirt covering her legs. She had spent hours agonising over an outfit and had finally settled on something comfortable, but cute. A forest green corduroy skirt, black long sleeve, oversized leather jacket, dark tights and her favourite Doc Marten Sinclair platform boots. 

She had checked hair and makeup a million times in the mirror before she had concluded she felt confident enough. 

Yet, here she found herself following her best friend into the pub growing more and more anxious with each step she took. She had reasoned with herself that she had nothing to be anxious about, but she could not calm the nerves seeping into her bones. 

Adam, ever the empath, sensed his best friend's anxiety the minute they had left the flat. As the pair walked further into the pub towards the bar, he placed a comforting hand on the small of her back. Casually letting the smaller girl know he was there and she didn’t need to worry. 

“A pint of Neck Oil and a double gin and tonic please” Adam said to the man behind the bar. Mattie inwardly sighed in relief. Adam was a life saver. She wasn’t sure yet that she had remembered how to speak properly. She realised she would have to figure it out sooner rather than later as her eyes found Lando’s across the bar, his hand frantically waving back and forth beckoning the two of them over. 

She could see the back of Daniel’s head. His brown curly locks tousled to perfection. How did the back of his head look cute? Ugh. She hated this. Stupid feelings. 

Mattie grabbed her drink and thanked the bartender. She turned and followed Adam as he  walked through the crowded bar, easily paving a path for them to the corner where Danny and Lando sat opposite each other in a booth. 

“Adamskiiiiiiiii” Lando called affectionately towards his friend moving over to allow the male to sit down beside him. “And Matilda! I haven’t seen you in ages! I’m so glad you came!” 

Matilda felt the smile creep onto her face. She loved Lando. He was three years her junior and a thousand percent her unofficial adopted younger brother. They found a friendship during lockdowns playing various games together online with Adam. The younger male found her lack of skill, but determination to do well endearing and admirable. He also liked that she was as easy to make blush as he was to make laugh. It helped that he thought she was pretty fit as well. 

“Hey Lando” Mattie spoke softly, smiling at the younger boy. Her eyes nervously looked down at the empty space beside Daniel as she found herself moving to sit down next to him. 

“Howdy” Daniel spoke out to the table with a grin, greeting the pair as they got themselves settled. Matilda turned her eyes to look at his face for the first time since she arrived. 

“Hi Daniel” Mattie said, her voice shaking slightly. Fuck. She hoped he didn’t notice how nervous she was. Her hand reached out for her drink, gulping down a couple mouthfuls through the straw, careful not to smudge her lip stain. 

“Daniel? Ooft. Please call me Danny. Daniel makes it sound like we’re not friends, and if we aren’t friends, well that would break my heart” the Aussie joked. His arm moving to nudge the girl next to him.  

“Oh, we’re friends?” Mattie said, her eyes looking carefully to the man next to her. 

“We’re definitely friends. I don’t buy baked goods for people who aren’t my friends.” 

Mattie felt her cheeks heat up as her smile widened. She looked across the table to see if the boys had been listening in to their conversation. They weren’t. The pair had already launched into a detailed conversation about a round of golf they had planned and the latest video game release they were excited for. 

“I meant to thank you for that. It was really sweet of you. You didn’t have anything to apologise for, it was that idiot that woke me up” Mattie said as she pointed a finger towards her best friend sitting across from her. 

Sensing he was being spoken about, Adam's eyes looked across the table to his friend. His eyes narrowed. “You said you forgave me! It was weeks ago now! I bought you sushi to apologise! What more do you want from me?” 

Lando laughed at the excuses coming from the man sitting next to him. He looked towards his fellow driver and noticed the heart eyes the Aussie had for the girl he was sitting next to. He didn’t blame Danny. Mattie was a stunner. 

“Right, before you land yourself in shit mate, let’s go play a game of pool” Lando spoke as he nudged his friend, urging him to slide out of the booth next to him. 

Adam’s eyes immediately found Mattie’s, silently asking for her approval to leave her alone with Danny. Mattie nodded her head quickly. Her heart deciding before her brain that some time alone with the older man sitting next to her wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. 

Adam and Lando stood up and headed over to the pool table a few feet away from the booth. Mattie watched as Adam walked over to the bar, ordering the group another round of drinks. 

With newfound courage Mattie stood up from her seat next to Danny and moved to the other side of the booth. She sat down opposite him and smiled taking a sip of the new drink that had been placed in front of her by Adam. 

“Seeing as we’ve established we’re friends now, we should probably get to know each other a bit better, don’t ya think?” Danny spoke towards the girl in front of him. He took the opportunity now that she was in front of him to properly admire her. 

He really didn’t think he had ever seen someone so effortless before. 

“Do you want to play twenty questions?” Mattie offered, her voice less shaky as it had been previously. The alcohol gave her the liquid confidence she felt she needed so desperately. 

“Absolutely! Nothing dirty though, the last thing I need is you spilling all my secrets to the press!” the Aussie quipped with a grin. He knew she wouldn’t do that. She didn’t seem the type. Her eyes were too kind. Her smile too soft. 

“Let’s start easy. What’s your favourite food?”

“You’re right, you are starting easy. I’ll go with pizza. Can’t beat it, and it’s good everywhere in the world” Danny explained, “You next, what’s your favourite food? You can’t say blueberry muffins. That doesn’t count, it’s not a meal.” 

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Mattie dramatically frowned. Blueberry muffins were her favourite food, and she definitely had substituted them for a meal more times then she would care to admit. She imagined Danny’s diet was far stricter and far more regular than hers.

She thought for a minute before answering “ok fine, my favourite meal is probably pasta, but like fresh pasta from a proper Italian restaurant. There’s one near our flat that delivers. It’s a bit pricey but it’s so worth it. Adam and I always get it on special occasions.” 

“Ok, ok, good choice. A woman after my own heart. I can get on board with that. I grew up on Italian food, my parents didn’t want me to forget my Italian heritage despite growing up in Australia” Danny explained. 

“My turn to ask a question! This one means a lot to me, but I wouldn't bother asking it back to me cus I don’t think I can answer it. What’s your favourite song?” Danny asked curiously. 

“I think anyone who knows me would expect me to say anything by Taylor Swift. She’s my hero. But the real answer is a bit more classic if I’m totally honest. My favourite song of all time is Vienna by Billy Joel. I have the lyrics tattooed on my arm” Mattie answered quickly, her eyes filling with joy as she pulled the sleeve of her shirt up to show Danny the ink on her arm. 

Danny looked down to the arm now extended towards him with the words delicately etched into the skin on the girl's forearm ‘Vienna waits for you’.

He grinned as his eyes looked back up to find hers. She smiled back at him, pulling down her sleeve and placing her hands back in her lap. 

A beat of silence passed between the pair. 

Mattie’s brain immediately kicked into overdrive. Had she said too much? Why did she just thrust her arm at the man in front of her? He didn’t care that much what her favourite song was. She didn’t need to prove it to him by showing him the tattoo she had gotten as soon as she had turned 18. 

Danny noticed the look of panic etching onto the girl’s face. He regretted not answering sooner. For one of the few times in his life he had found himself searching for words. 

He found Mattie absolutely fascinating. How many girls in their twenties had Billy Joel lyrics tattooed on their body? And how many of them would be displaying it so proudly without a care in the world? But in the same breath, she seemed so nervous after the fact. Almost as if she’d shown a piece of herself to him and she was scared she’d shared too much. 

He concluded in that moment that she could never share too much with him. He would take whatever she offered him. 

“That’s really cool, like super fucking cool in fact. You didn’t strike me as a girl with ink. I’m glad you are though. Super cool. And excellent song choice as well, definitely a classic.” Danny spoke, trying to reassure the brunette that she had nothing to worry about. 

Mattie sighed with relief. He didn’t think she was a weirdo. And if he did, he was being awfully kind about it. 

“Thanks. Not a lot of people would agree. Or only know who Billy Joel is because of Uptown Girl and think that’s the lyrics I chose to get tattooed on my body for the rest of my life” Mattie spoke “you said you wouldn’t be able to answer the question, so I’ll change it slightly, what’s your favourite song at the moment?” 

“Fair, I can answer that. I’ve been listening to a lot of Zach Bryan, he’s a country artist, you might not be into that, but yeah he’s awesome, he’s got a song called The Good I’ll Do and that’s definitely been on repeat for me recently” Danny answered easily. 

“Oh yeah I noticed that, you’re into the whole cowboy thing aren’t you?” Mattie replied, taking a sip from the drink in front of her. She could feel the swirl of alcohol running through her veins as her eyes moved to look up at the man in front of her. 

“Urm Mattie… have you been stalking my Instagram?” Danny joked bringing a hand up to his mouth to feign shock. He watched as the girl's face started to turn red as she shook her head. 

“No, well not really, it’s just that I’ve followed you on Insta for a while, and I’ve seen you post about it before. I’m not a creep, I promise I just-” the girl rambled, embarrassment filling her body as she attempted to explain herself. 

“Woah, woah, I’m joking sweetheart. Honestly I think it’s flattering that you even bothered to remember that about me.” Danny spoke softly to the girl. Cursing himself internally for making her think she had embarrassed herself. He was the one that should be embarrassed. What a shit joke. 

“Oh ok, cool, as long as you don’t think I’m a creep or something” Mattie offered, shrugging her shoulders in a desperate attempt to save the conversation. 

“Far from it. I pinky promise” the man said as he extended his hand out towards her, his pinky finger extended. His eyes met hers as he urged her to join him. 

Without thinking much about it Mattie raised her hand to meet the one in front of her, her pinky finger linking with his and their hands moving up and down.

“Right, who wants another drink then?” the pair heard as they pulled their hands away from each other.

Mattie looked up and saw that Lando and Adam were now standing next to the booth. She immediately noticed the questioning eyes of her best friend, who she feared had definitely seen the interaction between herself and Daniel that had occurred seconds before their arrival. 

“Only if you’re paying” Danny exclaimed pointing at his team mate. 

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

✯ authors note: part four!!! this is such a long chapter so if you made it this far, congrats!!! danny and mattie are so cute it actually hurts my heart ✯

[batsplat]

hello dr. batsplat! in your gossip post you listed the post-aragón 2015 rumor that vale went on to interrogate dani about why he raced him so hard, and how that is at the same time wildly unlikely but also would be fascinating from the character standpoint. i watched aragón a couple of times for my own purposes, but there were some bits along the way that made me think of it

first, it's the pre-race comment made by jorge's team manager wilko zeelenberg: "one: one never writes off valentino rossi, and two: we'll need some help from dani pedrosa". the british comms then milked it for all its worth. and after the race, in parc fermé, vale says in his interview, "i needed those five points more!" which is like. not a particularly outrageous thing to say, especially combined with vale's joking/self-deprecating tone, but, as you rightfully pointed out, marca is not a reliable source (don't trust them farther than you can throw their print copy...) you also said there was a second story they combined with the first one, about vale crashing a honda party in phillip island - so did the article come out after the australian race - or even after sepang? because then marca's implication would be that vale counted dani into the spanish conspiracy even if he didn't verbalize it

which overall tells us nothing in terms of like. Did It Actually Happen, HOWEVER. i, personally, think it would be fun and juicy if it DID and kind of marked the start of vale's descent. because, as you've also said, vale excels in one-on-ones, and always had dani covered... but not in aragón. is that the point where doubt starts creeping into his mind, that it's not the same as it was before, that he's not the same as he was? (i may be wildly misreading and dramatizing everything). and a LOT of people commented on how hard dani raced there, which is- first of all, why wouldn't he. but this, combined with his interactions with jorge (that podium is a pedrenzo shipper's paradise), maybe seemed... a touch suspicious.

yeah the story was published after sepang! but... uh, I'm gonna be honest, I wrote that gossip post quite quickly, did not check any of my sources and, well, I'm very sorry to the writers at el pais because I accidentally got my spanish papers mixed up. so, um, my sincere apologies to el pais for calling you marca, it will NOT happen again. here's the article which I'd copy pasted into my actual, y'know, notes (it was behind a paywall):

even though the dani rumour to the best of my knowledge originated here, I've seen only that one spread elsewhere - not the marc one. which isn't really surprising. getting mad at dani feels kinda newsworthy, kinda quirky, who gets mad at dani right. plus, the marc story really isn't all that believable. look, we won't ever know for sure.... but valentino interrupting a honda party to interrogate marc fits in with quite literally nothing we've heard from any involved parties, ever? marc has repeatedly said the sepang thing took him by surprise, that valentino had his phone number and didn't use it and all that, valentino has never made reference to this conversation, nobody at honda has ever mentioned anything like this... you watch the sepang presser and you just don't buy marc went into that with forewarning, right? how would his emotional reaction work in this hypothetical scenario? 'wow, valentino already complained to me directly about the stuff he's now accusing me of during a party a few days ago, but I guess I'm still surprised because I didn't think he'd talk about it in a presser'? like... it just doesn't feel right, does it

and, yeah, if you're reading an article and most of the paragraph you're on kinda sounds like bullshit, then you're going to treat the first two sentences with some scepticism too. the dani one is more plausible in that it hasn't been repeatedly directly contradicted by both major parties, but it does also feel. odd. this isn't how valentino handles his conflicts. if you want to know how valentino handles his conflicts, it's quite literally sepang 2015 - that weekend feels completely in-keeping with his conflict management (and escalation) in a way this aragon story just..... doesn't? he actively evades a private conversation with biaggi, he conducts his warfare with sete completely in the open (cf sepang 2004), same with casey, with jorge, with marc... I think what I wrote in the gossip post is that it'd be interesting because it would feel out of character, in a way that I don't really think anything else in 2015 is really does for valentino? again, I don't want to dismiss the article out of hand, but it does read more like an op-ed than actual reporting. and just to clarify, the piece isn't exactly trying to argue that valentino thought dani was involved with any conspiracy. it's more a general argument that valentino that year was unravelling, that he was demanding some distance from fans, that he'd manage to silence iannone (?) and so on. which, there's some truth to that - but even if everything in the piece is factually correct, the whole thing is pretty shoddy journalism. the aragon story has never to my knowledge been corroborated by another source - and the outlets I usually treat as reputable for motogp news didn't even report on it. could be true, might not be true, but it is very much a rumour spread around by a source with skin in the game

that being said! I do completely buy valentino was more frustrated by that race than he let on in public - and yes, his joking about how he would have really needed those points does encourage that impression. and yes, it is also pretty noteworthy as basically the only time dani bests him in extended combat. it's some very sturdy defending by dani's standards, a bit of a one-off performance in his career. by that point in the championship, every race felt extremely significant... you could say that race bears some surface level similarity to estoril 2006, where valentino lost a very close race to toni elias who really wasn't getting the better off him all that much (well, I suppose that one time he shoved valentino off-track at turkey 2007 lol). maybe also a little phillip island 2009, come to think of it, just a different championship picture. though those two are a little different - and in both estoril and phillip island I reckon it's fair to say valnetino was motivated to be more cautious than he was at aragon. I think it's... hm. I don't hate the interpretation it's the beginning of the end - honestly it is fun for narrative reasons! it's fun to look at turning points! but the way I personally read the 2015 season, I kinda think once you pass assen, pretty much every race contributes to that downfall? in one way or another

let's quickly go through them. *takes deep breath* in sachsenring, you've got a version of marc who is still clearly hung up about assen and shows as much in his presser answers. he does more or less manage to get over it during the summer break, which is the chance for a bit of a reset for everyone, but by that point the damage has already been done. from then on, there's several moments in these pressers where marc is getting asked about the title fight, is saying that 'well valentino is slower but he's been very consistent!!' again and again, is being constantly asked about his potential role as kingmaker and it's all very sword of damocles given valentino is sitting Right There... indy and brno work as this duo of races that make the title feel like it's slipping away from valentino, and at brno valentino relinquishes the championship lead for the first time (if only on countback). at brno, marc also decides to kinda harass him during qualifying (he'd already done his last flying lap so wasn't just catching a tow) - and they're asked about it in press, they joke about it, but it's just another moment where once again.... if that's one of the things valentino remembers from that weekend? not ideal. silverstone is just stress, and yes it massively helps valentino in the championship, the rain was a gift from god... but also you've got this niggling sensation of 'wow marc really is harassing valentino around that track, he kinda wasn't in control of that bike', and then marc crashes - and you end that weekend with a sense that jorge actually got a lucky break of his own to limit the points damage. misano is again helpful for valentino's championship, again is heightened stress due to the flag-to-flag conditions, again there's a sliding doors moment or two where you feel valentino should have gotten more of a points buffer out it, it's also the heightened stress of his home race and how the fans Just Will Not Leave Him Alone... plus silverstone and misano are on-track confrontations with marc that valentino has explicitly referred back to as moments where his suspicions were aroused. aragon, never been one of his favourite tracks where he was already in damage limitation mode but then would have expected to get past dani in direct combat... not the easiest of tracks for making overtakes stick and gets repeatedly cut back and frustrated (just ask marc about that kind of aragon experience lol). the fact that motegi/phillip island/sepang is a flyaway triple header, exhausting and away from home and already so very late into the season... everything about motegi was extremely stressful - that moment in the race when it looked like valentino might be proper fucked when dani got past until it became clear he actually could follow dani past jorge on his slightly healthier tyres in that kinda odd race. after the race, reporters commented that this was as physically exhausted as they'd ever seen valentino - who had worked so hard on his fitness for this season but, y'know, age comes for us all... this was taking so much more out of him than it ever had. and then you get to phillip island!! a mere week later! where he never quite looked like he had the pace for the victory, but kept himself in that lead fight through sheer intransigence and could take advantage of the other riders getting in each others' ways - before ultimately coming away with a disappointing result. and then sepang is a mere week after that, but I've heard that one at least was a quiet one

the point here is that it's a cumulative effect. I think aragon does stand out a little bit in that it's arguably the first of only two times that season valentino actually gets bested in wheel-to-wheel combat. but... I mean, his issue that year definitely wasn't the w2w stuff and all in all he would've LOVED to Actually Fight Jorge. it's a lot harder to fuck with a rival when they're always ten seconds up or down the road. I also don't think he really needed a moment of realisation that season about his waning abilities as a rider. he'd had four years worth of realisation that he wasn't the rider he was in his prime any more! stuff like aragon may have served as a brutal reminder, but at the end of the day 2015 was quite explicitly a campaign of relentless maximisation, a title charge built on podium rather than victories (see here). 2015 is such a defensive title campaign that his prevailing mode isn't cockiness... it's creeping desperation. he was also constantly being reminded by literally everyone that jorge was faster than him (including by marc, repeatedly), which he never complained about but like... how could that not piss you off? or maybe not even piss you off as much as it just... makes your resolve even greater, makes the stakes even higher to you. nobody thought you could do this after valencia 2013, everyone thought it was over for you, now they still won't trust in your abilities and you have to prove them wrong... the worst thing about aragon imo was that it comes just... as a reminder, as a way of twisting in the knife a little further. one more frustration in a season that felt full of them

the fun thing about 2015 narratively is that it's like,, custom-built to gradually chip away at valentino's sanity, at a time when he'd mostly ditched all his old tricks. he's reserved in his race-by-race celebrations (watch catalunya 2009/assen 2015 side by side and this might as well be a different person), he's not massively attempting to fuck with jorge in the press, he shows uncharacteristic restraint every time marc gets a wee bit weird towards him... he's just keeping his head down, working to get his tenth. but, well, in an odd way I do think that probably... didn't help? like, the reason why sepang is so fucked is because valentino didn't just have a normal fight with marc after assen. this entire season was a pressure cooker, and valentino just didn't use any of his usual outlets to blow off some steam. which is dramatically fun and juicy in itself - if valentino had just been kinda normal 2009 levels of bitchy towards jorge throughout the course of the season, if he'd had a go at marc after assen, hell, even if he'd insinuated dani was pursuing a pro-jorge agenda during aragon... I'm not saying bickering with your rivals is a healthy way of dealing with stress, but kinda a little bit? if that's how you've been doing your title fights historically, minus 2006 (which does in itself maybe go to show a little bit of feuding did help him), then if you're just going cold turkey... suddenly you get a sepang 2015 coming out of nowhere. because you have all this stuff festering inside valentino and he didn't just have a go at a rival to clear his head a bit

here's my 'pro aragon 2015 as a turning point' case: I was mentally going through his title-winning years and trying to think of him actually losing this type of duel and... well, he doesn't really do a lot of it? nothing in 2001 I don't think, then you have those two barros wins in 2002 (the streets won't forget) but the title is already extremely wrapped up by then, maybe ukawa at welkom, 2003... okay, that one's the outlier - arguably welkom and catalunya, definitely le mans and sachsenring - but crucially the sachsenring defeat pissed him off so bad it sent him into a bit of an existential crisis... which does go to show that repeated w2w defeats can and will get to him. 2004... I mean, maybe le mans at a stretch. 2005 there isn't really anything. (2006 has estoril and 2007 has qatar + catalunya.) 2008 has... well, depends on whether you count estoril has a prolonged duel, same with what you call 2009 phillip island. but especially like,, this second half of the season 'ooh gotta be sensible with the title fight' type duel he only very, very rarely lost. when you consider that plus his direct w2w record against dani... from that pov, I think you can say that aragon 2015 certainly didn't HELP his flagging confidence levels - and neither did having to perceive his teammate throwing himself onto dani in parc fermé right in front of his salad. that season is death by a thousand cuts, but some cuts will always sting particularly badly. aragon was right before the triple header... perhaps you can call it a tipping point for the ruin to come