#i THINK. that the official trophy is still the same

[rolandkaros]

did they change the uso women's trophy...........

[fastandcarlos]

Since Day One : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: since the very beginning you’ve been by lando’s side supporting his career

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, georgerussell63 and 3,850 others

landonorris: goodbye karting, thank you for everything. looking forward to getting into the world of formula racing next year ❤️

382 comments

username1: can’t believe you’re moving on from karting, big things are coming!

ynusername: so proud of you, even if I’m gutted not to be riding around in a go kart every week from now on 💔

landonorris: @/ynusername you haven’t seen nothing yet, just wait for those f1 hot laps 😘

username2: only a matter of time until we see you line up on that f1 grid now ☺️

charles_leclerc: end of a karting era, but hopefully many more races for us to come!

landonorris: @/charles_leclerc we’ll both be on that podium one day…I’m sure of it!!

username3: so deserving of the new things coming your way ❤️

georgerussell63: hopefully be lining up on the grid with you very soon 🤞🏻

olivernorris1: congrats bro, looking forward to the free trips to some more hot destinations 😂☀️

landonorris: @/olivernorris1 and here i was thinking you were flying out to support me…

username4: still gonna be your biggest fan!!

maxverstappen1: about time you gave someone else a go at winning a karting race 😂

username5: can’t wait to see where you go from here 🫶🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by alex_albon, charles_leclerc and 13,968 others

landonorris: buzzing to get my first formula 2 win, thanks to the whole team for all your support so far this season. hopefully the first of many 💪🏻🏆

1,840 comments

ynusername: you’re incredible, my race winner 🥺

landonorris: @/ynusername can’t wait to show this trophy off to you when I get home 💞

username6: first win of many gotta good feeling for this season ❤️

charles_leclerc: turns out you’re just as good at karting as you are formula 2 😂👏🏻

username7: so deserved lando, hope you celebrate hard tonight!

georgerussell63: yes lando!! a jolly good race indeed my friend 🏆

username8: a white race suit and champagne, someone in the team needs speaking to 🤦🏻‍♀️

alex_albon: someone get zak brown on speed dial asap 📞

landonorris: @/alex_albon let’s not get too excited, it’s only one race…so far!

alex_albon: @/landonorris the first of many my friend!

username9: if driver of the day was a thing, you’d get my vote 🤩

username10: that smile is my new favourite thing in the world!!

adam_norris_pure_electric: good job son, so proud of you back over here at home 🤍

username11: can’t wait to see how many more wins you get this year 🥺

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liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon and 58,402 others

landonorris: first couple of weeks with mclaren done, safe to say carlando is off to a good start 😝🧡

9,497 comments

username12: carlando are officially my otp btw 🧡🫶🏻

charles_leclerc: it’s a miracle you two get anything done when you’re in the same room!

username13: i can already tell this pairing is gonna be trouble!!

alex_albon: looks like you don’t need me anymore 😭

landonorris: @/alex_albon team rookies forever 💯

username14: whoever decided that these two should be on the same team deserves a pay rise immediately 😂

mclaren: admin thanks you both for constantly giving her such a headache 🧡

username15: have you ever met two more well paired drivers in your life??

ynusername: *currently googling what to do when you feel like the third wheel in your own relationship…*

carlossainz55: @/ynusername he’s mine now 😘

landonorris: @/ynusername ignore him, I promise you’re still my number one 💞

username16: forever refreshing my feed in search of carlando content 🥺

username17: can we get these two to sign lifetime contracts at all!?

zbrownceo: you’ve been awesome so far and ik you’ll continue to be too!

username18: i love how carlos us taken lando completely under his wing in f1 😭

carlossainz55: couldn’t imagine my life without you sweetie ❤️

landonorris: @/carlossainz55 stop otherwise you’ll make yn jealous again!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt and 28,048 others

ynusername: finally managed to get to my first f1 race, so proud to see you do your thing in person lan 💞

2,960 comments

landonorris: so glad you were able to come and cheer me on, you’re definitely a good luck charm now 🫶🏻

username19: you looked stunning in the paddock, lando is one lucky guy!!

alex_albon: you’re not allowed to leave it so long next time, I didn’t realise how much i missed you!!

carmenmmundt: so happy to finally meet you, hopefully see you again soon girlie!

ynusername: @/carmenmmundt who cares what the boys say, we’re double dating asap 🫶🏻

username20: you two are just beyond stunning together 🤩

charles_leclerc: i still remember you being one of a handful of people watching us in karts all those years ago 💭

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc so proud of all you guys 💕

username21: silently praying for a yn appearance at every race from here on in 🙏🏻

carlossainz55: still secretly think you were coming to spy on me 👀

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 gotta find a way to stop you stealing my boyfriend somehow…

username22: from karting to f1, she’s really been by his side through it all!

mclaren: thank you for helping us keep lando under control for the weekend - admin 🧡

username23: hope you had the best time yn 💞

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 174,494 others

landonorris: first podium baby 🏆🥳

thank you to everyone in austria and back at the mtc for all your hard work. fans, friends, family and yn for always cheering me on and reminding me that i can do this 💕🧡

38,508 comments

username24: I don’t think I’ve ever been this proud in my entire life 🥺

alex_albon: the little go karter on an f1 podium 🤧

username25: idk how you did it but that was incredible, fastest lap too!!

carlossainz55: I feel like a proud father rn 🥺

username26: thank you for reminding us that mclaren can achieve podiums again 🧡

maxverstappen1: gutted I couldn’t be up there with you today

landonorris: @/maxverstappen1 next time we’ll be up there together like the old days!

mclaren: everyone at mclaren is so proud of you lando 🧡🏎️

username27: only got the podium thanks to a time penalty anyway 🙄

username28: @/username27 🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻

ynusername: have I mentioned yet just how proud I am of you?? 💞

username29: love how he gave a special mention to yn too 🥺

zbrownceo: the perfect stepping stone to get you to p1, I know we can do it 💪🏻

username30: hope you get used to being up on that podium, you’re gonna be there often!

georgerussell63: super drive buddy!!

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liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 38,497 others

ynusername: turns out monaco is the life after all, a whole new world but absolutely loving it 🥺

4,969 comments

username31: just goes to show just how much lando means to you remember!

landonorris: thank you for making such a huge sacrifice for me, i promise we’ll have the best time living out here together 😘

ynusername: @/landonorris anything to help make your dreams come true ✨

username32: look at them out here living their best lives

carmenmmundt: our next coffee date is when??? ☕️

ynusername: @/carmenmmundt I’m omw to you rn 🏃🏻‍♀️

alexandrasaintmleux: @/ynusername @/carmenmmundt make that three 🫶🏻

username33: the muscles in that first photo, yn you can’t do that to us without warning…

georgerussell63: thank you for finally giving me some proper competition playing padel 🏸

ynusername: @/georgerussell63 I did try to warn you that lando was rubbish

username34: yn always happy to satisfy the boyfriend lando fans ✨

adam_norris_pure_electric: we are so relieved that you’re out there with him 😂

ynusername: @/adam_norris_pure_electric this apartment would not still be standing without me 😂

username35: I cannot stress how obsessed I am with these two!!

maxverstappen1: I love that you’re now on our doorstep so I can constantly annoy you 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 42,950 others

ynusername: first holiday in a while with you 🛥️🏝️

7,597 comments

carlossainz55: missing my two favourite people right now

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 thank you honorary third wheel 😘

username36: no one deserves this rest more than you two 💞

danielricciardo: it’s not a true holiday cause I’m not there 🤷🏻‍♂️

landonorris: @/danielricciardo that’s what makes it such a good holiday

username37: summer break looks good on you two!!

maxverstappen1: so glad you guys are enjoying that place!

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 thanks for such a great reccomendation! ☺️

username38: remember when everyone was obsessed with these two as karting teens, now look at them… 😭

oscarpiastri: shame he doesn’t look like he’s missing me at all 💔

iamrebeccad: wishing that I could look as good as you rn 🥺

username39: it’s not fair how good two people can look…

landonorris: the best time away with you 💕

username40: forever refreshing my feed for another gorgeous update of these two

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 2,968,573 others

landonorris: the moment I’ve dreamt of for so many years, officially a race winner! thank you to every single person who has contributed to my career over the years, this one’s for you 🏎️🧡🏆

458,360 comments

username41: apologies to my neighbours for screaming so loud the entire street could hear

ynusername: wish I could’ve been there more than anything, can’t wait to celebrate with you when you’re home 💞

landonorris: @/ynusername I still felt you here cheering me on 🫶🏻

oscarpiastri: awesome drive, the only way for us right now is up

↗️

landonorris: @/oscarpiastri we’re chasing them down brother 💪🏻

carlossainz55: I always knew this moment would come one day for you 👏🏻

username42: asking for a friend…is it acceptable to cry when it’s not even you on the podium???

danielricciardo: about damn time 😂 super race today brother!!

username43: words can’t begin to explain how proud I am to be your fan lando norris

alex_albon: who’d have thought those two kids almost a decade ago would end up here 🥺

username44: so proud of how far you’ve come since the beginning lando!

zbrownceo: could barely contain myself on the pit lane, congratulations lando 🧡

charles_leclerc: such an honour to be up there with you 🏎️

username45: it’s been a long time coming, hopefully the platform for many more wins now ☺️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and 60,597 others

ynusername: second time’s the charm! so proud of you lando and so proud to be there this time cheering you on with all your family. you’re so deserving of this moment…I couldn’t be any prouder of you ✨💕

14,974 comments

landonorris: I could never have got this far without you, thank you for always loving me angel since day one 🧡

georgerussell63: he’s not stopped telling people all weekend how happy he is to have you here btw 😂

username46: how do you two still manage to melt my heart like this!?

lilyzneimer: so happy for lan 👏🏻 and so happy you got to be there to see him win this time too!!

lilymhe: you looked so cute during those celebrations bby

username47: only yn and cisca would stand out in that crowd to surprise him 😂

oscarpiastri: at least I didn’t have to listen to him mope about how much he wanted you there this time

username48: I love the relationship yn has with all his family 🥺

mclaren: admin would also like to reiterate what oscar had to say too 😂

username49: I can’t begin to imagine how excited lando must’ve been to have his whole family there

danielricciardo: was it ever in doubt??

ynusername: @/danielricciardo that’s cause he learnt from the best 😉

username50: you must be so proud yn seeing his hard work firsthand ☺️

carlossainz55: so good to see you and catch up under such awesome circumstances 🧡

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[incognit0slut]

Doctor Reid

PART 2 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Established Relationship Your boyfriend finally agrees to indulge in your fantasy by playing a very different kind of doctor, but on his own terms.

Content: (18+) 4k, roleplay, lingerie, finger sucking, nipple play, fingering, female oral, edging, soft!dom as per usual and him being what you guys like to call ‘a little shit’ a/n: season 12 Spencer can stay between my thighs all day every day. also, i have no knowledge on any medical terms this is just ✨vibes✨

10:34 AM

The box was heavier than you’d expected. It had been weeks since you’d ordered it—weeks of wondering if this would even get here without some awkward explanation. You’d agonized over every little detail, scrolling through pages of different costumes, wondering which stethoscope looked the most real.

And now it was finally here.

You didn’t waste a second. Your fingers worked quickly, ripping through the tape and cardboard until the contents spilled out. A crisp, folded white coat with perfectly pressed lapels and a stethoscope. And it was a real one, with cool metal tubing that felt heavy and authentic in your hand. Everything looked even better than you’d imagined.

You barely took the time to fold back the box flaps before hurrying to the next room, where your boyfriend sat comfortably on the couch, idly thumbing through a book.

“Spencer!” Your voice practically sang in excitement. “It’s here!”

He glanced up and lowered his book. "What's here?"

You grinned, bouncing on your toes as you closed the distance between you. "The doctor is officially in," you declared, holding up the white coat like a trophy, the stethoscope dangling from your other hand.

You watched as realization dawned across his face as he blinked a few times, processing the items in your hands, before letting out a soft, amused huff.

"Wow," he said slowly. "You really went all out."

"Of course I did,” you affirmed, grinning from ear to ear as you held the coat up to his chest, sizing him up as though he were already playing the part. “And it’s perfect.”

He leaned back into the couch, trying to put some distance between him and your infectious enthusiasm. “You know I’m not much of an actor.”

“Baby,” you drawled out, emphasizing the pet name with that affectionate tone you knew worked like a charm on him. It was the same sweet voice you used when you wanted something, the kind that could coax just about anything from him. “You’re not trying to win the Oscars, it’s sex. I promise you’ll like it.”

He shook his head like he was the most put-upon boyfriend in the world, letting out a mock sigh of exasperation, though the faint smile playing at the corners of his lips betrayed him. He closed his book and set it aside.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said at last, dragging the word out as though it physically pained him to say it. “If we do this on my own terms.”

“Your own terms? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see. And,” he reached out, pinching the collar of the coat between his fingers. “I’m not wearing that.”

You pouted. “What, you don’t want to look like a real doctor?”

“I think I can pull it off without the costume.” He flashed you a smile. “I’m technically still a doctor.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “Your multiple doctorates don’t exactly qualify you for this, Doctor Reid.”

“I thought having six degrees would be enough for anything.”

“Too bad none of them is needed now,” you shot back, poking a finger at his chest playfully. “The role I’m thinking of requires a different kind of expertise. More…” You paused, pretending to mull it over, “Hands-on. Less theoretical.”

The laugh he let out was short and incredulous, his eyebrows raising as if he couldn’t believe your persistence. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

You sighed dramatically. “Babyyyy.”

“You know, one of these days that tone isn’t going to work on me.”

“Oh, please, you love it,” you taunted, leaning in closer. “And don’t act like you’re not curious about this.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head, weighing the pros and cons, debating just how far he’d let you push him. And then there it was, that spark in his eyes. Faint but undeniable—the one that told you he was already half convinced, even if he pretended otherwise.

“Alright, fine,” he finally conceded. “I’ll play along.”

The grin you wore was at least a mile wide as you shoved the stethoscope into his hand.

1:52 PM

“Okay. I’m ready.”

Spencer looked up from his stack of papers, and as soon as he saw you standing there, dressed in nothing but lacy lingerie that clung to every curve, his mouth fell open. He blinked, trying to process the sight. Because yes, while you looked incredibly sexy, he was still baffled.

“Since when does a patient wear... that?"

You stepped closer, letting his eyes follow your every move as you shrugged with a hint of feigned innocence in your smile. "Well, I thought I'd save you some time, you know? Make it easier for your examination."

"Mm-hmm," he hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his desk. "I'm not so sure this is standard procedure. I think you might be bending the rules here."

"Maybe. But I'm sure Doctor Reid can make a special exception, right?“

You shifted slightly, arching your back just enough to draw his attention. His eyes dropped to your chest, and for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he noticed the way your nipples strained against the sheer, barely-there fabric of your lingerie. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile, but it broke through anyway. A slow, knowing grin spread across his face.

“Of course,” he finally replied. “I think I can be persuaded.”

With that, he leaned forward, sweeping his documents to the side in one smooth motion, before patting the now-cleared space on the desk in front of him.

“Take a seat, Miss,” he said, his voice turning low and authoritative that lit a spark of excitement inside you. “Let’s get started.”

You bit your bottom lip, fighting back a grin as the cool wood of the desk pressed against the backs of your thighs. You watched Spencer stand up and slip between your legs, his hands finding your knees and spreading them just enough to close the distance until the heat of his body was flushed against yours.

“So, tell me,” he started, his voice lowering as he fell into the role. “What seems to be the problem today?”

A flutter of nerves danced in your stomach, and suddenly you were very aware of what was happening. You’d initiated this—had begged for it, even—but it was something entirely different now that Spencer was towering over you. The confidence you’d felt earlier wavered for just a moment as his palms ran slowly up your thighs.

“I, uh,” your voice faltering slightly as his hands continued their slow journey. “I… I haven’t been feeling well.”

His fingers brushed lightly against the frills of your lingerie, teasing the lace between his fingers as he maintained eye contact. “Any symptoms I should know about? Dizziness? Shortness of breath?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest as his thumb traced small circles over the fabric. “All of the above.”

“I see.” His eyes flickered down to your lips. “Can you open your mouth for me?”

Slowly, you parted your lips, and the moment you did, Spencer’s hand came up to your chin. He tilted your head back gently, exposing the graceful line of your throat.

“I’m going to run a few tests now.” He paused, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip. “It might feel intense, but I need you to stay relaxed and follow my instructions. Can you do that, Miss?”

You nodded as best as you could, mouth still open, and he gave you a small, approving smile.

“Stick your tongue out for me, just a little bit.”

You followed his instructions, extending your tongue just far enough to meet his touch. His eyes gleamed with focus as he brought his thumb to your mouth, pressing it lightly against your tongue.

“Hm,” he hummed, his eyes still fixed on your mouth like he was about to make a serious diagnosis. “I think I might be starting to see the problem here. But I need to check one more thing. Can you close your mouth around my finger?”

You complied, your lips wrapping around his thumb, feeling the rough pad of it pressing down on your tongue.

“Good,” he sighed, the approval in his voice like a reward in itself. “Now try giving it a gentle suck.”

You could feel the tension rising in you. Your cheeks hollowed as you did what he asked, and you couldn’t help but think back to the hesitation in his voice earlier, the way he’d claimed he wasn’t sure about this, that he wasn’t good at playing roles. You would’ve laughed if your mouth wasn’t occupied.

But you were an obedient patient, after all. You started sucking lightly, feeling the weight of his thumb resting against your tongue. There was something undeniably arousing about how he watched you, eyes heavy with focus, and that steady weight of his finger as he pretended to assess your reaction.

The first rush of arousal made itself known between your legs. You gradually increased the pressure, and before you knew it, you were bobbing your head. But just as you fell into a steady rhythm, his hand tightened on your chin to stop you.

“Just as I suspected,” he murmured after a moment, pulling his thumb away slightly to speak. “You’re suffering from an acute sensitivity.”

You swallowed, eyes wide as you played along, trying to keep your composure despite the heat pooling low in your stomach. “Is… is that serious?”

“I’ll need to do a further examination to understand the extent of your condition,” he mused, his eyes flickering between your face and your body as if assessing you before he straightened up slightly. “Let’s check your vitals now.”

He reached behind you, fingers brushing your lower back as he grabbed the stethoscope that had been sitting on the desk all day, the one you’d practically begged him to use. His expression turned serious, as though he were truly diagnosing you, and he leaned in close, pressing the flat side of the stethoscope against the pulse point on your neck.

“Deep breaths,” he instructed softly. You inhaled sharply, feeling the tension coil tighter in your chest as the cool metal made contact with your skin. “Your heart rate is definitely elevated.”

He moved the stethoscope lower, brushing it along your collarbone, before pressing it just above your heart. You felt the thump, thump, thump of your pulse echo through the metal.

“Definitely fast,” he noted. “We might need to find out what’s causing such a reaction.”

And before you could respond, without warning, he moved the stethoscope lower, pressing the cold metal against your nipple. You let out a soft, involuntary moan as the sensation caught you off guard.

“Ah,” he muttered, tilting his head as if he were genuinely analyzing your response, his thumb grazing the lace-covered peak around the stethoscope. “I think we’ve found one of the pressure points.”

You watched as his fingers trailed up to the edge of your lingerie, dragging his knuckles along the lace before he tugged the fabric down, letting your breast spill free. Without a word, he pressed the stethoscope directly against your bare nipple. The sudden contact made you jolt, your back arching as a quiet whimper slipped from your lips, and your nipple hardened instantly under the cold metal.

“Heightened sensitivity to stimuli.” He moved the stethoscope in small circles. “Very, very responsive.”

His eyes flickered down as he used his free hand to tug down the other side of your lingerie, exposing your other breast. You tried to keep your cool, tried to pretend like his touch wasn’t turning you inside out, but it was getting harder by the second. And God, he knew it. The way he played with your other nipple, rolling it slowly between his thumb and forefinger like he had all the time in the world, was enough to make your thoughts scatter.

You tried so hard to keep your composure, but then he gently pinched and tugged on your sensitive nub, and a soft, breathy whine escaped your lips before you could stop it. With a satisfied grin, he pulled away.

You blinked, momentarily dazed. “What—?” you breathed out. “Why did you stop?”

“Medical procedure,” he said simply, his tone so casual it almost made you forget the heat of his touch moments earlier. “It’s important to give the patient time to stabilize.”

You shot him a bewildered, almost exasperated look that said are you serious right now? But he just smiled that slow, self-assured smile of his. He was clearly enjoying this far too much.

“We’re doing this my way, remember?”

You huffed in mock annoyance. “Really? That’s how we’re playing this?”

He brushed his lips on your shoulder. “That’s how we’re playing."

5:22 PM

“Doctor Reid?”

Spencer glanced up from where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He raised an eyebrow, casually stirring a hefty amount of sugar, the spoon clinking softly against the mug. “Hmm?”

The coolness of the counter pressed against your back as you watched him. “I think it’s getting worse.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just let his gaze rake over you, taking note of the way the thin fabric of your lingerie clung to your skin.

“Worse, how?” he finally asked, setting his mug down.

“It’s… spreading.”

“Spreading?” He mused. “Where, exactly?”

“Everywhere.” Your fingers nervously toyed with the hem of your lingerie, lifting it just enough to show a glimpse of bare skin beneath. “I really need your help, Doctor.”

His eyes immediately zeroed in on the sliver of skin you revealed. You watched as the realization flashed across his face. The corner of his mouth twitched as though he was fighting back a satisfied smirk, and you knew then that he’d taken the bait—he had to confirm just how bare you really were.

“Come here,” he ordered softly. He stepped back from the counter just enough to make space. “If it’s spreading, I have to conduct a full-body assessment.”

You slowly made your way to him with shaky legs.

“Up,” he instructed, giving the counter a gentle pat before letting his hands settle on your hips. “Sit.”

The cool marble touched the backs of your thighs as you hoisted yourself up. Then, without warning, Spencer’s hands were on your legs. He grabbed your calves, and before you could even catch your breath, he maneuvered your knees apart, placing the palms of your feet flat onto the countertop.

His eyes dropped between your legs, and the sight of you completely bare, your pussy lips glistening under the dim light, confirmed what he’d suspected. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he took in every detail, the way you were flushed, open, and dripping.

“Is there a reason,” he began slowly, his voice dropping to that dangerously soft, detached tone. “Why you’re not wearing anything underneath?”

“I… I thought it might make the examination easier.”

He smiled. “How considerate.”

Then with painstaking slowness, Spencer used both thumbs to part your folds, spreading you open completely to his gaze. It was almost clinical, the way he did it, as if he were studying you like some fascinating experiment. And it was working. You could feel the heat of embarrassment rushing in your veins. God, he had you spread open like this in your kitchen counter, and all you could think was how absolutely shameless this was.

He took his time, of course. Because why wouldn’t he? Spencer Reid didn’t rush experiments. No, he would spend all the time in the world analyzing, learning, committing every detail to memory. And right now, that focus was on you. He dragged his fingertips through your arousal, spreading it leisurely over your folds like he was testing its consistency, as if that slick heat was something he could measure and quantify.

And all you could do was hold your breath.

“I have to say,” he started again, his voice low and taunting as his fingers slid back and forth slowly, grazing just over your entrance without actually dipping inside. “You’re overly lubricated. Are you always like this?”

You exhaled a long breath, trying to steady the rapid rhythm of your heart. “Y-Yes.”

Spencer's smile deepened, his gaze never leaving your face as he pressed just a bit harder, testing your reaction. “Interesting. Do you get this wet from just a little touch, or does it have to be… more?”

“J-Just a little,” you admitted, hips instinctively shifting toward his fingers.

“Mmm,” he hummed approvingly, and finally—finally—he let his finger slide just inside your entrance, only to stop right there, buried to the first knuckle. He didn’t move any further. “Is that all it takes? Or do you need more to truly feel the effects?”

“I...” You let out a whimper when his finger twitched inside you. "M-More."

“And how much more, exactly? One finger? Two?”

“Two,” you gasped, every coherent thought slipping away under his touch. “Two… Doctor.”

A satisfied smile tugged at his lips, and without another word, he obliged, slipping a second finger inside you. The stretch made you bite back a moan as you felt every inch of him dragging against your inner walls. You couldn’t help the way your cunt clenched tightly around his fingers, pulling him deeper as your slick arousal coated every thrust.

“You’re even more responsive than I thought,” he noted, adjusting his angle to brush against that sensitive spot inside you. “Your partner must enjoy this… a lot.”

He was playing his role all too well. Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter as his speed picked up. "He... He does," you breathed out. "He—he loves it."

Spencer hummed thoughtfully. "Good," he said softly, almost as if to himself. "Because this is a very special condition that requires a great deal of attention. And I'm sure that you need all the attention you can get, don't you?"

“Yes,” you sighed, nodding frantically as the pleasure built in steady waves. “I… I need it.”

"I thought so. Patients with your symptoms typically respond very well to intensive treatment."

With that, his fingers began to thrust deeper, faster, harder. The sensation of his long fingers stretching you had you moaning as you felt every drag, every inch while he continued to work you open. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, he pressed a thumb firmly against your clit.

“Oh, fuck.”

He circled your swollen nub in slow, delicious patterns, and your body clenched around his fingers. This was it. You could feel it. The way your pulse pounded in your ears, the heat pooling deep in your core, every sensation building higher and higher. You could feel that sweet, sweet edge approaching, so close you could practically taste it—

And then he stopped.

Everything. Stopped.

“Spencer!”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t rush to soothe the ache in your body. He simply slid his fingers out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing.

“Open your mouth.”

You parted your lips, and he slipped his fingers inside, letting you taste yourself. The mix of your own slick and the heat of his skin made you moan softly, your tongue swirling around his fingers

“You see, you can be very responsive,” he commented in a low, measured tone. “But I think we should take a break, rushing the treatment would only compromise the results.”

He said it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world, like he wasn’t purposefully doing this to drive you insane. You wanted to laugh, and you did. But it was a defeated, breathless sort of laugh around his fingers, because you knew the man settled between your thighs still held all the power over you.

08:56 PM

“Babe?”

He laughed softly, not even glancing up from the book he was reading. “No more Doctor?”

You ignored the amusement in his voice as you walked up to the bed where he lay sprawled out, so casually composed, flipping another page like he hadn’t spent the entire day driving you mad. You reached the edge of the mattress, shadow casting over him, and his eyes finally flicked up to meet yours.

“I wanna cum.”

Spencer’s smile widened, the kind that made your stomach flip with both excitement and irritation, and he placed the book down beside him. His hand reached out lazily to brush your thigh.

“Yeah?” he drawled, tilting his head to the side. “Does my sweet girl want to be taken care of?”

You nodded eagerly. “Please.”

“Well, I do like it when you ask nicely,” he muttered, one hand sliding up to grip your waist. “And you’ve been very patient all day.”

“I have.”

“I think you deserve it.”

“I do.”

He let out an amused laugh. “Alright, lay down on the bed.”

You didn’t hesitate. You quickly shifted, lying back against the pillows. Spencer’s hands were on you immediately, gripping your thighs and dragging you toward the edge of the mattress. The room spun for a moment when he settled onto his knees. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, his fingers squeezing your calf as he pressed a soft, teasing kiss against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Comfortable?”

You nodded, and just as the breath left your lungs, his fingers brushed against the slick, wet folds of your pussy. He traced the outline of your lips gently, gathering the moisture that had been building all day.

“Poor baby,” he cooed sympathetically, his breath ghosting over your wetness. And just when you thought you couldn’t take another moment of teasing, he pressed his tongue flat against you and licked a long strip from your entrance to your clit.

A desperate whine escaped your lips. “Please…”

Spencer didn’t miss a beat. He licked another long, languid strip to your clit, swirling his tongue around it before flattening it again, dragging slowly just to savor the way you trembled beneath him. One of his hands gripped your thigh firmly, keeping your leg steady over his shoulder, while the other slid underneath, lifting your hips closer to his mouth.

And when he finally wrapped his lips around your clit again, pulling it into his mouth with a gentle suck, a choked moan tore from your throat.

“Spencer,” you whimpered. “Oh god…”

The vibration of his low groan reverberated through you. His fingers gripped your thighs tightly, holding you open and pinned beneath him. You weren’t sure what was more overwhelming. The sensation of his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit or the wet, obscene sounds of him slurping against your soaked folds. Either way, it was driving you wild, pushing you closer and closer to that edge where everything blurred and all you could do was feel.

And then his tongue shifted, dipping lower to probe your entrance. He pushed inside, exploring, seeking, like he was determined to reach every possible inch of you. And damn it, it felt like he could. Each thrust and twist of his tongue sent a surge of delicious heat through your body, and you couldn’t help the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders, squeezing him tighter.

You could barely breathe as the tension coiled tighter, so fucking tight you thought you might snap. And he knew it—he could feel it, the way your walls clenched around his tongue, the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders. And still, he didn’t let up, thrusting his tongue into you deeper, faster, while his nose rubbed insistently against your clit.

He kept going, over and over, tasting you like you were the only thing that could satisfy his hunger. It was too much and yet not enough, and soon you couldn’t stop the desperate chant of his name spilling from your lips. You weren’t even sure what you were pleading for anymore—more? mercy?—all you knew was that you on the brink of falling apart.

One last stroke was enough to shatter you completely.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly you came, but with the way he was working you over, you didn’t stand a chance. The moment you felt yourself tip over, everything broke—your body tensed, your back arched sharply off the bed, and a loud moan tore from your lips. It was like your body had a mind of its own, hips grinding desperately against his mouth as if seeking every last bit of friction you could steal.

And when you finally came down, you were a breathless, panting mess. Spencer gave your clit one final, teasing suck, before he pulled back. He crawled up your body, hands sliding up your sides to push your lingerie higher. Gentle, warm kisses tickled your stomach as he threw you a smug look that only he could pull off.

“How was that,” he murmured, pausing to kiss just beneath your ribs. “For your little fantasy?”

Mind-blowing. Intense. Better than I imagined.

“Well,” you managed to say, fingers tangling into his hair. “If that’s how you plan on treating me, Doctor, I might just have to get sick more often.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a knowing smirk against your skin, and he nipped gently at your side.

“I think it’s best for you to do a regular check-up, then,” he teased, letting his lips ghost over your skin as he crawled further up, settling his body over yours. “Doctor’s orders.”

You couldn’t stop the soft, breathless laugh that escaped your lips as you pulled him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his mouth.

You’d be more than happy to comply.

[mv1simp]

Into It ♥️ Part 1 of 3

Max Verstappen x Girlfriend!Reader

i'm into it, yeah, says she wanna fuck me later, girl i'm into it

the one in which you’re newly dating your gorgeous boyfriend, max verstappen, after months of pining and flirting. he’s the perfect gentleman, so romantic and treats you just right! now how do you tell him that you’re desperate for mad max to come out and rail ur insides without sounding like a freak 😚

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut but this time with some plot lol, reader essentially is just trying whatever tactic she can to seduce her bf and make mad max come out in bed, size kink, dom/sub elements, 4k WC

PART TWO HERE ♥️ PART THREE HERE ♥️

You look up blissfully at your boyfriend, Max, from where you’re tucked into his side, his strong arm scooping you against him and keeping you warm. You’re rewatching an old classic, Shrek 2, as you wind down from your dinner plans with your friends earlier than evening. Lando and Daniel had joined as well, teasing you and Max mercilessly about how you two were finally together and that the whole F1 grid had been placing bets on when you would make it official.

You had flushed in a combination of embarrassment and giddiness, unable to hold back a matching laugh with Max who had looked over at you with an adoring gaze, his own heart warm with happiness about finally being able to call you his own. You two had run in the same Monaco circles for years - with him as a driver and you on the McLaren legal team. Though initially you only saw glimpses of him through paddock interviews or social media posts celebrating his multiple winning streaks, the two of you had become a lot closer the past couple years through his friendship with Daniel and Lando. Soon enough you were joining them at weekly Padel sessions, leading to you and Max exchanging funny cat memes or popping online to decimate him and Lando on a Call of Duty stream and then eventually onto deeper conversations, from his latest breakups with his model girlfriends or quiet ramblings with a bottle of wine outside a booming party about the pressures of demanding fathers.

Of course, tongues were wagging anytime you two were seen together - especially when Max had his first time in years being single for months before you had gotten together. You couldn’t deny that you had always thought the older Dutch man was incredibly handsome and funny, always full of interesting facts about niche topics, and you found his intensity and passion for his racing career so attractive, as a high powered professional yourself as a lawyer for a luxury car brand’s executive board. But you had always curbed any growing feelings you had for Max, paranoid that it would compromise the strong friendship you two had developed. Besides, given his affliction for dating vogue models, and his respectful gazes or polite touches compared to the much more flirtier ones from other drivers on the grid, you had never thought max considered you attractive.

But somehow, despite both your busy schedules, despite max being across the globe, you always ended up calling each other first to share sad, happy, or even just boring news. You had never once imagined that after winning his most recent championship the first person he came looking for in his celebrations that night was you, his face flushes from champagne and hugging you tightly, his eyes shining with warmth as he told you he couldn’t have won it without you and suddenly you could no longer deny the rapid palpitations of your heart when you looked up at him. And as he looked at you, thumb gently brushing across your cheeks, warm breaths mingling together as your faces drew closer, he couldn’t deny himself any longer either - Schat, all I’ve been thinking about is what I really wanted for my prize instead of this trophy. Can I kiss you now?

And the rest was history. Fast forward a few months and it’s still so surreal to call Max your boyfriend, you think, as you come back to the present, watching him fondly as he chuckles at the movie. Dating him has been a dream - he’s your first serious relationship, your standards too high to waste time with any of the subpar guys you had gone on first dates with before - and wow, did Max know exactly how to knock all of those standards out of the park. He would always drive and pick you up anywhere you wanted, in his sleek luxury cars that had pedestrians gawping, one large hand on your thigh and asking how your day had been. You had literally stopped taking your wallet out anymore as Max always slammed down his black Amex at any opportunity to pay for you - dinners, trips, jewellery and luxurious shopping sprees - and although the staunch feminist in you had initially disagreed you couldn’t help but feel so cared for, so looked after - knowing all you needed on a night out was one hand around his arm and the other clutching a pretty little Chanel purse he had picked up for you at last month’s race weekend, with a matching Dior lip gloss inside. If you were ever having a hard day at work he would always order your favourite foods straight to your apartment, where he would meet you and bitch and vent alongside you about whichever client had been giving you grief.

And my god, the sex - THE SEX with your man had been absolutely amazing. Considering the difference in your past number of relationships, max was keenly aware that he had a lot more experience than you and was so unbelievably sweet and patient - letting you take all the time you needed to go slow and work up the confidence gradually to ask for what you wanted for him. Your first time together had been incredibly romantic, a night at a private house he had booked out for the week on the Italian coastline. After a candlelit dinner and a bottle of wine you found yourself in his lap on the outdoor chaise, soft kisses turning more and more heated, max whispering are you sure, liefje? If you’re not ready-

to which you had cut him off with another deep kiss, pleading for him to make you his once and for all ❤️ His eyes had flickered with a deep intensity at your possessive statement before softening out to adoration again as he gently unlaced your dress and trailed kisses down your body, worshipping you. you’d both cum embarrassingly faster than you’d have liked, high off the feeling of one another, max cleanly finishing inside a condom he threw away before carrying you in his arms to the bedroom inside. Since then, you’d both figured out you had a combined very high sex drive, using every opportunity in your schedules to make love, max never hesitating to always make sure you came first, either on his fingers, tongue or cock. You had the perfect boyfriend. Truly. You couldn’t ask for anything more, yet -

- yet, here you were, feeling like an absolute bitch about the recurrent thoughts that had planted in your mind as you watched max come out of the bathroom freshly showered, getting ready for bed after finishing a gaming stream with his mates following your Shrek 2 viewing. The issue was that your boyfriend - your incredibly hot, sexy, tall Dutch boyfriend - was so stupidly enticing but so oblivious that he has no idea what he did to you. You bit your lip as you looked at him, hair dripping wet, distractingly saying something to you while texting on his phone - but your mind was only fixed on how big and strong Max looked. Your boyfriend was much bigger than you, almost towering over you at 6”1 with your 5”1 frame. His athletic training currently during the season meant he had been looking extra delectable lately, defined abs, thick muscular thighs and a broad shoulder and back that narrowed down to a narrow (or as Lando joked, slutty) waist, highlighted now by the grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips that did nothing to hide the sizeable bulge in between his legs. It was undeniable that he was packing, to the point where you had called it his third leg after first seeing him naked, making him laugh but also take even more care everytime he entered you - you were a lot smaller than his previous partners, after all. He always made sure his pace was gentle and slow, avoiding fully entering you too much in worry of causing you pain. Truly, your boyfriend was too sweet - everything he did was to avoid causing your any pain or distress - which is why you felt too embarrassed to ask him directly to be rougher with you when he was simply looking out for your comfort. It has been perfect for you initially, but now you felt more adjusted to his size, and each time you slept together you felt yourself becoming more and more desperate for Max to be just a little bit rougher, a little bit more controlling. What would he think when his usually sweet, happy go lucky girlfriend admitted she actually fantasised about him completely ruining her? So, of course, you being you - an ambitious feminist - have decided to hatch a conniving strategy to seduce your boyfriend into giving it to you just right!! 💕

Starting tonight - you had already planned to spend the night at Max’s, relaxing after the hectic work week you had both had. Often, you wore his comfortable hoodies that dwarfed you and smelt just like him as you cuddled in bed. Instead tonight you wore an angelic pink lace Agent Provocateur nightie, bows and all, pushing your cute tits up on display for him and complimenting your caramel skin perfectly. Enough to drive Max crazy, right? Sitting against the plush pillows, you had been reading one of your steamy dark romance novels - your latest outlet these days while you manifested getting some back breaking sex with Max - but of course had ended up distracted by the sight of your himbo boyfriend emerging from the shower.

-Schat? So what do you think? Max finally looked up from his phone, making you come back to reality and realize you hadn’t been answering his question. Max’s eyes widened seeing your pretty little form on his bed - he had never seen you wear an outfit like that in bed before. He cleared his throat, inconspicuously shifting his stance so you didn’t notice his hard on at the sight of you when you hastily stumbled to reply - Oh sorry maxie, I missed what you were saying, just a bit tired after today

Max immediately came to your side in bed, looking guilty. Of course Schat, sorry, I’m keeping you up with my gaming stream aren’t I? You had such a long week already, we can go straight to bed now. You cursed your own slip up - of course, your sweet Max would put your comfort first over what you were sure looked like mission successful given the rapid hardening of his bulge you had zoned in on.

You try again as Max dims the bedside lamps, taking your book gently away from your hands and setting it to the side. You lean softly in next to him, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, tits right up against his hard biceps so that your breasts are basically cushioning his arm right in between them. Your nightie rises up your legs, showcasing your soft, luscious thighs for him. Max smiles lovingly at you, cradling your face before peppering your cheeks with baby kisses. You look so pretty, sweetheart. So sweet to wait for me before falling asleep, mein Schat.

You lean in further, lips pouting in an effort your boyfriend would finally catch the hint but instead you found yourself gently maneouvered and tucked into his side, his large hands rubbing soothing circles along your back as he placed a final kiss on your forehead. Goodnight, darling. Your eye twitched at his definitive words, perplexed at how your plan had been so unsuccessful, but you sighed and wished goodnight to Max, falling asleep and already plotting for another day.

A couple of weeks later you decided to up the ante. A sexy, bold crimson red lingerie teddy set, practically see through and showcasing your tan nipples through the lace and mesh, and a pathetic excuse of some lacy red panties to match. You smirked as you eyed yourself in the mirror - sure, it was quite a forward look, but you had found yourself becoming increasingly more desperate for your boyfriend’s attentions after attending his Monaco race today. You did your best to attend the races you could but with your own demanding schedule often struggled to make it, so were very excited to support your boyfriend this time - especially as you had been keeping track of how this season was difficult compared to earlier years given the poorer quality of the RB car. Your eyes had widened at seeing the events this weekend - a string of bad luck events. First, his engine had stalled during free practise, making him lose precious practise time, and then a red flag had been called as he was finishing an almost perfect qualifying lap, ruining his chances of pole, and finally during the actual race he was clipped on the side by one of the Aston Martin’s, making him spin out but still incredibly go on to get P2. It was amazing result given everything, but what caught your attention was a side of your boyfriend you had only every heard whispers about emerge on the track. In the past, you had only attended races he had easily won, appearing calm and collected throughout the weekends as he cruised to P1 - easily overpowering everyone else. Today though - Mad Max, his fans excitedly cheered and paddock staff gossiped, Mad Max is finally back!! In his villain era!!

And your Max was indeed seething at everyone - competitors, his strategy team, the stewards for not giving Aston Martin a penalty - and you had listened in on the radio to hear him angrily swear and yell to his engineer, seen him aggressively overtake and defend his place on the track, and finally seen the stormy expression on his face as he emerged out of his car, clearly pissed with narrowed eyes as he stalked off to his driver room without a word, not even sparing a glance at you or anyone else. Sure, you should have felt a little hurt that he hadn’t noticed you or seen the perfectly planned designer outfit you had arrived wearing, sending the paparazzi into a flurry, but you completely understood that his career was first on the line today and he needed some time to cool off. And honestly, instead of feeling bad for Max - the sick, twisted part of you couldn’t deny that he had looked sooo sexy completely dominating on the track, authoritatively giving orders over the radio and confidently outmanoeuvring his rivals. You had to catch yourself from biting your lip or squeezing your legs together as his rough accented tones got more and more angry throughout the race over your headphones, imaging what it would be like to be pinned down by his strong arms, to have him lean down behind you and whisper naughty things in your ear, to ask if you liked being a dirty little-

“Oh! Y/N! Can we get a quick word?” The sky sports reporters interruption hastily put an end to the illicit thoughts you had been having. Quickly trying to school your expression into something much more PR friendly, you flashed a dazzling smile, “Of course!”. As expected they tried to rile responses out of you to condemn Max’s aggressive performance. But you had stood for none of it, honestly and clearly stating that your boyfriend had driven very capably and fairly given the circumstances and you were extremely impressed with his performance. “He’s a triple world champion after all. Did you just expect him to roll over and not defend his title? If you don’t agree with it then no need to watch it. At the end of the day he’s the one driving the car over the finish line while everyone else is speculating hypotheticals.” The reporters thank you for your input, stumbling for words at your strong defence of your boyfriend. You wandered off before they could say more, catching up with Max a couple hours later when he had debriefed and collected his trophy, looking a lot more chilled out than earlier.

Hey, Schatje he mumbled gently, leaning down to kiss you on the lips after pulling you from a conversation with the other WAGs. Max! you had exclaimed brightly, congratulating him on his win and letting him know just how proud you were of him. You knew he would be tired - we could go to the red bull celebration yacht party for 30min, show our faces, and then play hooky back to ours? I already put in a dinner order for your favourite lamb kebabs.

Max smiled down at you - you knew him so well, always knew what to say and when he wanted to relax. Sounds amazing, Schat he voiced in agreement. Later, after eating dinner at home, Lando sent him a trending insta reel with the caption “Mate, she’s too good to you, you bagged a queen.” Max grinned, expecting some fanmade memes about you and him as he clicked the link (he has seen all the Queen Y/N and he’s just…Ken Max tweets already. You were a well liked figure on the paddock for years with your well mannered speech, excellent dress style and courteous relationships with most of the staff.)

He was suprised to instead see an interview post race of you defending him staunchly, shutting down any opportunity the reporters used to manipulate your words. He walked into his bedroom to find you conveniently waiting for him in bed again, nose buried in one of your romance models, and started laughing at how effective you were at putting the media clowns in their place. Thanks for sticking up for me always, liefje. You smiled back at him with pure adoration - of course Maxie, that’s the advantage of dating a lawyer, right?

He agreed enthusiastically, so caught up on now yapping about the race as he climbed into bed with you that he didn’t even notice the sexy little outfit you had planned just for him, covering you up with his soft duvet before you could properly twirl around and showcase it for him. Your eye twitched again as he yawned in between statements, grabbing your waist and bringing your back in against him, spooning you while his voice gently trailed off, falling asleep.

Meanwhile, your mind was running at 100 miles a minute, a scowl on your face. This was ridiculous, you had gotten all dressed up in an overpriced beautiful outfit just for your boyfriend to get distracted by a 3min interview you had done with an asshole reporter and then fall asleep instead of ravaging you?? You had tonight would be the perfect night, for you to be the one to support him for once, be the perfect outlet for his stress, to use you and manipulate your body for his own pleasure…heat pooled in your gut at your dark thoughts, and you grow wetter between your legs at the mental image of max having his way with you. Maybe it still wasn’t too late. Sighing gently, you closed your eyes, pretending to drift into sleep but moving your plump, barely covered ass behind you to gently grind up on your boyfriend’s cock, which was now rapidly hardening with your practised movements. You sensed Max had awakened when you felt his arms tighten around you, keeping you still in an effort to stop you from exciting him to much while you were still asleep and he couldn’t act on it.

Mmmhmm, maxie, feels so good~ you moaned, still keeping up the facade of having a wet dream, breathing getting heavier and pushing your tits against the edges of his fingers that were wrapped around your waist. You felt him exhale sharply as he came into contact with your hardened nipples, a smirk on your face. Your grinding had managed to push the duvet partially off, exposing your red lingerie in the moonlight - surely this would be enough to drive any man crazy!!

You heard him sigh behind you, shifting slightly and inadvertently pushing his cock against your skimpy underwear as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck - and you had to hold back a squeal with how hard and big he felt against you, this was it, he was finally going to give in and fuck you awake while he thought you were having a wet dream, he could slide it right in, you were ready for it, for him, you were soo wet already just from imagining it, this was so hot-

Your fantasies are quickly shut down as max easily used his strength to turn you around so your face was buried into his chest again, your ass now devastatingly much too far away to get any action, and began rubbing your shoulders soothingly to get you to fall into a deep sleep again. You almost combusted at the action before deflating and accepting defeat once more. Your kind boyfriend of course would never toe the line of having sex with you in a dubious way were you were asleep. You wanted - no needed, to bring Mad Max out in your bedroom, and you were determined to do whatever it took.

Over the next few weeks you threw countless strategies Max’s way. Leaving your dirty romance books out in plain view, sometimes even opened up to a page right in the middle of a jaw dropping sex scene. Lacier and lacier bralettes and panties left everywhere to prompt him. “Accidentally” deleting his best SIM race time record on his rig. But nothing seemed to be working - max diligently tidyed up the stray underwear, reshelved the books, and generously forgave you for the SIM error before setting a new record later that night instead of fucking you angrily like you had planned. You got more frustrated as both your work schedules became busier, leaving you less time to connect with him. Fuck, last weekend - last weekend you had even thrown out all your boxes of condoms before jumping into Max’s arms when he had come home, laughing and eager to see you. One thing let to another and he was as eager to be inside you as you were to have him inside you, voicing It’s been too long Schat, I’ve missed your sweet body so much, so beautiful for me in between kisses as he reached for the bedstand drawer to grab a condom - only to find it empty. You pretended to have a confused look on your face (truly, you deserved an Oscar for your performance this past month) before oh so innocently suggesting Maxie, we- we don’t have to use one if you don’t want, I’m on the pill -

And there it was - a brief darkening of your boyfriends’ normally loving ice blue eyes, his sharp gaze on you at your suggestion of doing it raw for the first time - before he schooled his features back to normal and gave you a sweet kiss, It’s okay Schat, you’re too sweet, you don’t deserve to feel uncomfortable for my sake, I’ll just grab some from the corner store, da? He was off you before you could protest, promising he would be back soon as you blinked away tears of frustration and denial that yet again your plan had failed. When he finally entered you later that night, ever so gently, condom and all, you closed your eyes tight and imagined how each vein and ridge of his thick cock might feel when fully buried inside you to the hilt, if that goddamn condom broke, if he spilled all of his thick, creamy cum inside you, so much that it spurted out the sides, leaking everywhere, claiming you as his and no one else’s, making such a filthy, filthy mess-

- you came harder than you had the whole month, burying your face in Max’s shoulder to contain the scream that threatened to spill out. You sighed as you came down from your high. Fuck, you needed a drink.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Follow along for Part 2 of this 3 part series to see if dear reader will finally manage to uncockblock herself and release Mad Max!! 😚😚

[emoreemadden]

hey guys!! i suck at keeping up with posts but heres something to tide yall over (not that you were demanding anything anyways 😭)

Outline: Marriage? Gojo had never thought about it. Until you, that is.

Content Warnings: ANGST!ANGST!ANGST, angst, AAAAAANGST, be warned of angst, kind of a little fluff, not many warnings for this. character death :3

Featuring: Gojo Satoru, fem!reader

A/N: i dont really like this but enjoy!! 😭 word count: 877

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Gojo, when asked, “Do you think you’ll ever get married?” immediately thinks about you.

He’s never actually thought of getting married. It’s not like he’s had time. But now, imagining a life with you, living together and having a happy ending doesn’t seem so bad.

In fact, it sounds lovely.

So, like any normal person, he confronts you about it. At the worst time possible, that is.

“What do you think about marriage?” He asks suddenly, cutting you off on your rant about how insanely terrible your day was and how everyone you meet is an incompetent asshole.

You blink at him. “Excuse me?”

“Marriage. Like, getting married.” He clarifies stupidly.

“Like… to you?”

“To me, or to anyone. Would you ever want to get married?” He looks at you curiously.

Marriage has always been a trivial idea to you. The notion of giving your significant other a ring and having a big ceremony was never that appealing.

But looking at Gojo, sitting there with your hand in both of his, his eyes waiting for your response, you reconsider.

“I mean, sure. With the right person.” You stare back into his piercing blue eyes.

“Do you think I could ever be the right person?”

You smile at him. “I think you’re already the right person.” And he grins.

Not even a year later, he’s got a ring on your finger and already planning your wedding. You couldn’t be happier.

The ring in question didn’t come until later, as his proposal was spontaneous. A random night, sitting at the park in a gazebo as a break from your shitty job, and suddenly he was down on one knee.

“I asked you a while ago if you’d ever want to get married, and you said to the right person. Then I asked if I could be the right person, and you said I already was.” He said as he sat next to you, looking up at the sky. You glanced over at him, curious as to where he was going with this.

You swear you looked away for a split second before looking back at him, and there he was, grinning at you goofily with his hands mimicking an imaginary ring box.

“Do you still think I’m the right person?” He asked, and you just nodded, too dumbfounded to speak.

“So then, will you give me the honour of being your husband?” And there it was.

You screamed your approval, and now here you are.

“I do.” You answer when the priest asks the long awaited question.

‘Do you take Satoru Gojo to be your lawfully wedded husband?’

He does the same, answering the question with the biggest grin on his face.

“I do.”

And then he’s kissing you with the force of a thousand seas, and you almost feel like he’s going to hollow purple everyone at the wedding with the way he’s crushing you in his arms.

You’re officially Mrs. Gojo Satoru, and he couldn’t be prouder. He shows you off like a trophy, bringing you around and taking every chance to let everyone know you’re his wife.

Until, one day, he comes home and you aren’t there.

Confused, he wanders around the house for a bit. Did you go out?

He finds a note attached to the fridge that says you went to grab some groceries, and his heart relaxes. Only for a moment though, as he hears a knock on the door and it’s definitely not you.

He walks over, and standing in front of him are two police men.

“Is this the residence of Gojo Satoru?” They ask, and he nods silently.

“We’re very sorry for your loss.”

His life spirals after that one sentence. Loss. He lost you. You’re gone. Never to be found again.

Every day he stares at himself in the mirror, wondering what went wrong.

Maybe if he spent more time with you, he could’ve saved you that day.

Of course, he knows you’d tell him not to blame yourself if you were here, which is sort of a paradox, because if you were here, he wouldn’t have to blame anyone for what happened anyway.

Eventually though, he puts himself back together. Piece by piece, he fixes it. ‘You would’ve wanted him to,’ he tells himself.

But every now and then, he goes to visit the gazebo where he proposed to you. Spinning the wedding ring on his finger that he hasn’t taken off since that day, he sighs. The memories of you comfort him, even if they do so in a terribly depressing manner.

He remembers your voice, even after all these years. A question he’d heard you ask that he’d brushed off because it pained him to think about comes back to him suddenly.

“If I die, do you think you’ll remember me?”

I do.

And underneath the soft moonlight, he swears he can almost see you sitting next to him, your head on his shoulder moments before he asked for your hand in marriage.

“I do.” He says aloud, a bittersweet smile on his face. Just like he replied when you asked him that question, and just like he replied when he was asked if he wanted you as his lawfully wedded wife

“I really, really do.”

[sunboki]

— KEEP IT BUSINESS. TEASER a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, coworkers! au, first kiss..? au (hehe), domestic minho (what’s new) who is sooo soft for reader :(

WARNINGS. cursing, making-out?? annoying coworkers (lol)

WORD COUNT. around 5k-6k words

AUG'S NOTES. really really love minho so so much you don’t understand i’ve officially gone bonkers i- 😭😭 …if you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to send an ask/dm/comment!!!

SYNOPSIS. Life can be a mess, and with you and Minho as the only two singles in your office building, an impertinent Valentine’s day leaves no choice but to make a pact.

or alternatively :

If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.

Four years.

It’s been four years since you first met Lee Minho, working with him at the same company, becoming the best of friends. And yet, the same dread lay specially reserved for the same season.

The season of love, or, to most people, Valentine’s day.

.

.

.

Alarm set for 6:30AM. Work from 8:30AM to 4PM. Every day of the week, every year.

Initially, the experience was relatively enjoyable. It paid well, wasn’t too harsh on hours, and other coworkers minded their own business (at least in your case) without being a pain.

Then the loneliness set in.

It was subtle at first, a tiny pang in your heart when you returned home to a dark, cold apartment while others would be greeted by a pet, a loved one.

So when Lee Minho, a new member of the company assigned as your apprentice came along, you tend to think meeting him was, in a weird, spontaneous manner, meant to be.

And four years later, when he had grown from that apprentice-ship and became established as an employee, you still hold onto that “meant to be” philosophy.

Busied chatter fills the downstairs cafe, familiar faces alike brimming with conversation, breath coffee-stained.

Peering across the various assortment of tables, you spot him, two identical cups in each hand, wearing that bemused expression as usual.

At this point, Minho has memorized your order by heart, arriving early after his daily stop by the nearby animal shelter (whose manager knew by heart). Most morning’s you’d await a picture of the newest addition to the feline section, a photo he proudly shows off like his own trophy.

You’re genuinely surprised his residence isn’t a constantly growing cat-kingdom.

“Looking forward to it?”

Brows furrowing, you sidle to his right and dish the warm beverage into your grasp.

“Looking forward to wha— wait wait don’t say it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.” Hurriedly waving your hands, Minho cracks a grin.

The cursed word in question being: Valentine’s day.

You can’t say you hate it. It never did anything to you, nor did it leave you heartbroken. To put it simply, the office over the first few weeks of February was a close-resembling spinoff to Singles Inferno except, much spicier and way too inappropriate in broad daylight.

Meaning, for the past five years (four joined by Minho), merely mentioning said season of love urges impending dread and deep frowns.

“All I’m gonna say is I would not want to be a doctor over Valentines,” You wince, sipping the warm drink with a squeamish face.

Minho sighs vehemently, propping an elbow against the computer cart behind him.

“I bet you could witness more vibrators in that hospital than in an Adam and Eve,” He grumbles, watchful eyes surveying the daily crowd occupying tables and chairs in the building’s downstairs café.

Slamming a fist to your chest to correct your breathing, your eyes practically bulge from your skull, evidently caught of guard.

Leave it to Minho to make you suffocate before your shift even begins.

8am is prime time for socialization—otherwise before Mrs. Song decides to unleash her wrath on newbies. She has good intentions, sure, but let’s just say most anyone was petrified upon first meeting her.

Luckily, your department with Hyeongmi, Minho, and Felix was secluded on the far side of the building, leaving you out of the woman’s hair, free to work as you please.

Yet, Mrs. Song wasn’t the problem, not when it came down to the month of February.

Your phone’s alarm signaling to start moving momentarily wards off the thought, and either of you begin toward the elevator, flat expressions describing the sinking feeling better than words.

Back at it, again.

Because by your lunch break, you can’t fathom entering the cafeteria, not if it costs you your life.

Everywhere you look someone is making out, confessing their love, or, worst you’ve seen it all day, genuinely fucking in the bathrooms.

Perhaps you’d send Minho a text you’re making an escape by eating in the office, invite him up for some solace.

Except, it seems he had the same idea.

Scrambling through the door, you enter at the same time, heaving sighs of exasperation upon securing much needed privacy.

Making prolonged eye contact, your thoughts come spilling out.

“If I witness another make-out in the stairwell I’m ending it all.”

“Boxes of chocolates are officially ruined for me now.”

Four years and it never gets old. Same old painful memories, same old excitement for the day to come and go. And it’s not like you hate the holiday itself, you two just.. heavily dislike the immense bucketloads of PDA and office hookups that come along with it.

Not-so-gracefully flopping down onto your chairs, you practically shovel food down, gladly accepting the few rolls of gimbap Minho places onto your plate.

Customary sharing. You give him some of your food, he gives you some of his.

In those brief minutes of silence do you get the opportunity to fully comprehend your own thoughts, prior to Minho clearing his throat.

“Drinks at my place?”

Your grown loudly in agreement.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

hiii idk if ur still taking requests or not but if u are literally any kind of darry angst would be amazing 🤗🤗

Hi anon! This is a bit more Curtis brothers angst but Darry centric exploring what might have happened if the Curtis parents died two years earlier. Please lmk what you think!

***********

“Please” Darry begs, “I’ll be eighteen in a month. A month! I swear I can take care of them. Please don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry,” the social worker says, and to her credit she does sound like she means it, “Since you're almost eighteen and because you’ve provided me with adequate proof you can support yourself I’m going to allow you to remain here at this time, but Sodapop is only fourteen and Ponyboy just turned twelve. They need a real guardian.”

“I can be their guardian,” Darry vows. It’s wrong they’re even having this conversation. His college acceptance letter sits on his desk, his football trophies on the shelf and yet he’d give all of it away in a heartbeat for this crackpot old woman to see sense, to understand that he’s just lost both of his parents and he cannot lose his brothers too. Why doesn’t she understand that? “You said it yourself, I can support myself. I can support them too. The lawyer said Mom and dad left me the house. I can officially claim it in a month, and I can cover bills until then. I already got three offers for another job, and I know how to cook and clean and drive-”

“Darrel,” the social worker cuts him off firmly but kindly, “this has nothing to do with whether or not you are capable. In fact, from what I’ve seen, and the frankly remarkable job you’ve done holding your family together I’d be more than happy to help you petition for guardianship of your brothers at a later time, if it’s still something you feel strongly about doing, but the fact of the matter is that almost eighteen is not the same as eighteen. You are not a legal adult, and you cannot be your brothers’ legal guardian until you are. It doesn’t matter how responsible or adult you are right now. It can’t happen.”

“Please,” Darry implores, “you can’t take them. We just lost mom and dad, I can’t lose them too.”

“I really am sorry,” she says, “and I mean it when I say I will help you try and get guardianship in a month. But I can’t let them stay with you right now, and honestly? Maybe it’s a good thing. I know you love your brothers but guardianship would mean putting your life on hold until Ponyboy turns eighteen- eight years from now. You couldn’t go to college, travel, do much of anything really. This month will give you time to think that over, decide if it’s something you’re truly prepared to do.”

Anger, bright and hot as a supernova bursts in his chest.

“I would do anything to keep them. Anything. I don’t want college or sports or nothing if it means they’d be stuck in some foster home with people who don’t care anything about them.”

“We make sure all our foster parents are vetted very carefully-”

“Yeah, sure,” Darry scoffs, “I know a dozen kids who grew up in the foster system. I’m sure all those bruises were just from kids being kids, especially the handprints. With all due respect, I think you’ve forgotten what part of town you're in. East side kids never end up in the good homes.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“Save your apologies,” Darry chokes, ashamed to feel hot tears start to prick his eyes, “it’s clear your mind is made up and ain’t nothing I can do to change it.”

“I promise you, I will help you try and get them back. As soon as you're eighteen.”

“I’ll call you the minute the clock hits midnight on my birthday,” Darry threatens, “see if I won’t.”

“That’s fair,” the social worker smiles but Darry refuses to smile back. He hates her, for all she is trying to be as kind and helpful as she can. She’s going to take his brothers away. To him, she can only ever be a villain, “you guys can stay together here one more night while I sort out placements for Ponyboy and Sodapop. I’ll be back at ten tomorrow morning. Do you want to tell your brothers or should I?”

Well Darry sure as hell isn’t going to break their hearts, and Ms. Summers has done a good enough job already of shattering what remained of his own.

“You do it,” he spits, “I ain’t gonna ruin their lives.”

Her sympathy has run deep enough that pity now reigns on her face and she ignores his attitude, the way she has ignored all his attitude so far. It’s more than he probably deserves. He still hates her for it.

“No,” Soda says before Ms. Summers has even finished explaining, his brown eyes shining with a primal sort of fear that puts another crack in Darry’s already broken heart. Soda was made to be grinning, not meant to ever look so terrified, “no you ain’t puttin’ me in no foster house. Me’n my brothers are stayin’ right here, together, thank you very much.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t asking,” Ms. Summers says, still talking in that infuriatingly gentle tone. 

Soda- easygoing, sweet Sodapop, who called ladies ma’am without fail, who everyone adored- glares at her, backing away the way a cornered animal might.

“I ain’t going! I ain’t! And you ain't taking Pony neither! Darry ain’t gonna let you take us, right Dar?”

He looks at him, brown eyes wide and desperate in his face, and Darry knows things will never be the same after this because it’s his job to protect Soda and Pony, always has been and always will be, and yet right now he is failing to do just that and Soda may never forgive him for it.

“Soda…”

“No!” He’s crying now, tears running freely down his face as he clutches Ponyboy close to his side, arm falling protectively around their baby brother’s tiny shoulders because Pony- whose eyes are the same sort of haunted they’ve been since mom and dad died, and whose face shows nothing but terrified resignation- hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet. Because he’s twelve. Only twelve.

“I know this is hard for you” Ms Summers continues, “and I’m going to do my best to make sure you and Ponyboy get placed together, but you can’t stay with Darry right now.”

“Why not? He’s good at bein’ a guardian. Shit, I’ve eaten more vegetables in the last week than I ever did when mom and Dad were alive-

“Because Darry isn’t eighteen.” Ms. Summers cuts him off, “and you need to be at least eighteen for the government to consider granting guardianship.”

“I’m gonna get you back,” Darry promises, ignoring the social worker and instead locking eyes with his brothers, first Soda, then Pony, “I swear it, as soon as I turn eighteen I’m gonna get you back and you can come home and we’ll all be together again. But we gotta behave if I’m gonna have any chance at all, so please stop arguin’. I don’t like this any more than you do but we gotta-” he clears his throat, “we gotta play ball, ok kiddo? We gotta do what we’re told.”

Soda gives the social worker one more murderous glance, but pulls himself together, a mask of eerie calm overtaking his features. “Fine.”

“Ill see you all tomorrow then. I can show myself out.” Ms Summers offers them one last pitying smile as she shuts the door behind her. 

As soon as she’s gone Soda is on top of him, crying so hard he can hardly breathe,. Pony is clutching his other side so hard he might have bruises, and Darry wraps them both in his arms, wishing he could keep them here forever where they would be safe and he could help them relearn how to be happy. It’s somehow the worst and best moment of his life. On the one hand they’re still blissfully here with him. On the other hand, they won’t be for long.

“I’m sorry,” belatedly Darry realizes he’s crying too, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I tried everything, she wouldn't let me keep you, I tried, I tried.”

Pony just hugs him harder, burying his face in his chest and Soda wails.

Eventually they all stop crying, but the mood in the house is somber. The gang comes around, moods dampening one by one as they hear the news, and Darry makes chocolate cake for dinner since there’s no point in making healthy food if the social workers are taking the boys anyway. In the end it doesn’t matter- none of them have much of an appetite, even for cake.

He walks in on Steve and Soda plotting to run away together before the social worker comes. Talks them out of it by reminding them that he’ll never get guardianship if Soda goes truant while still technically in his care. Eventually, the gang leaves and the it’s the three of them once more, crowded together on the living room couch in an unspoken agreement. None of them want to sleep, unwilling to miss even a second that they have left together.

“Darry?” Pony whispers, his head resting on Darry’s shoulder.

“Yeah, bud?”

“I’m scared.”

“I know,” Darry says, heat clenching, “I’m scared too.”

A few minutes later Pony’s weight drops a little more against him and he starts to snore, out cold. Darry pulls him a little closer, plants a kiss on the top of his wild hair. 

“Soda?” Darry says softly a few minutes later, careful not to wake Pony.

“Hmm,” Soda blinks at him sleepily, “yeah Dar?’

“Promise me you’ll take care of him,” he glances down at Ponyboy’s peaceful face. Asleep like this he looks downright childlike, “and yourself too, savvy? I’m sorry- I’m sorry I can’t do it myself, but you gotta be strong for me, alright? Just for a month or two until I get you back.”

“I promise,” Soda vows, “he’ll be safe with me, I’ll make sure of it. No matter where they put us.”

“I know you will, little buddy.”  Darry sighs. 

Soda sniffs. “I’m really gonna miss you, Dar. it ain’t right, takin’ me from my big brother when we just lost our folks. It ain’t right.”

“I’ll get you back,” Darry promises again, because what else is there to say, really? “I’ll talk to the president himself if I have to but I swear I’ll get you back.”

“I know you will,” Soda tells him, eyes shining. 

They don’t talk for the rest of the night.

The morning dawns with a sunrise that mocks them with it’s beauty and a buttery sunshine that illuminates the sorrow on all their faces when Mrs. Summers shows up and they all have to say goodbye. The gangs around, everyone but Dallas who got jailed two days ago, and Pony and Soda take their time with their goodbyes. When Soda reaches Darry, he hugs him tight for a second, and gets chocked up trying to say something three times before he gives up. Pony hugs Darry with a strength he rarely sees from the kid, and Darry tells him over and over that he loves him because when things get tough that’s the sort of thing Ponyboy forgets.

Then they leave, Mrs. Summers' blue Toyota rounding the corner, and a big part of Darry’s heart goes with them.

He goes back inside. Steve and Two-bit both follow him, casting him concerned looks, but he can’t deal with their worry right now. He has twenty eight days before his birthday to compile an airtight case as to why he’s the perfect guardian for a teenager and a preteen boy, and three job offers on his desk that can make that case a lot more airtight than it currently is.

It’s time to get to work.

[fallinforerling]

So proud of our boy 🫶

It gave me an idea for an imagine or whatever, if youd like

Being one of erlings best friends and being there to support him for the final and him being super overwhelmed by the victory and his feelings, spilling the beans to her on the pitch after the match 🤌🩵

Lots of love to you xx

heart rush - eh

ೃ⁀➷ erling's masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ erling's taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It all felt like a blur. One moment he was on the pitch, following the ball, waiting for the right opportunity to make an assist that would win them the Champions League, or even better, make the goal of his career so far. Then, in what seemed like a mili-second, Rodri took the chance and made all of his dreams a reality.

They were the UCL champions. Finally. 

He ran after his teammates, shouting at the top of his lungs, hugging every single person that crossed his path. He couldn’t believe it. The sequence of greeting, accepting the medal, cheering on a cloud of confetti with all of his team, looking at the screaming fans, and feeling like his face would split in half from all the smiling passed quickly. 

He wanted to see you. He knew you were near, next to his family. The adrenaline rush was so high that he felt like jumping in place. Once he finally saw you running across the pitch towards him on your Man City shirt, smiling as beautifully as always and shouting his name, he knew he needed to do something. Anything.  

“Erling! You did it!” Was the first thing he heard falling from your lips before your body practically slammed itself against his. He hugged you so tightly that he was afraid he might actually crush you. 

When you separated, he didn’t think twice. He just held your face with both hands and went for a kiss. Only when he had his lips against yours did he realize what he was doing. But he didn’t have time for regrets; he only laughed when he let you go, not knowing what to expect.

“I…” He started, still holding your face, trying to find the right words to excuse himself in case you were mad.

“I’m so proud of you.” You said instead, the smile never leaving your face. Then you were the one going in for a kiss, having to tiptoe a bit to reach. This kiss was less effusive, but still full of something he knew was mutual.

So he wasn’t only winning the UCL today. 

The moment, as intimate as it could be in the middle of a pitch full of people, lasted a few seconds more before teammates, photographers and family came by, cheering and hugging him. He saw you stepping back with the same sweet smile, hugging one of his sisters and greeting other family members of close teammates. 

After he had done all the basic photos that he was asked to pose for, he called you. You turned, hiding his last name on the back of your shirt with your hair. He pointed to the trophy, which was resting on the ground, waiting for the next player to pick it up. Someone (probably his father) has put a Norway flag on your shoulders, and when you jogged towards him, he never felt prouder.  

“Wanna take some pictures with it?” He said once you made it to his side, pointing to the trophy again. 

“Of course I do.” Both of you seemed a bit nervous to actually speak, but once you squated next to it, he felt like you both knew what to do. 

You fixed the flag around his shoulders while he held you by the waist, both grabbing the holders and smiling at the cameras. A few flashes later, he helped you lift it. Both of you kissed it, still looking at the camera. Then you turned to look at him, holding his gaze, he felt the need to kiss you again. 

He knew it was very possible for a couple of videos of him kissing you were already up there. But if he did this, the photos would most definitely make it to every single page and it was going to be official.

There wasn’t anything else he wanted more. So he leaned at the same time as you, both kissing for a brief moment for the cameras. He heard cheering on the back, and once you were done, Rodri patted his shoulders so he would be able to take photos with his family. 

Still wrapped around the flag, you both walked back to his family, hugging each other and chatting like nothing happened. Well, like nothing new happened. Alfie stared at both of you for a moment before letting it go, like he knew this would happen eventually.

Hours later, his predictions were certain. There were videos and pictures everywhere of the moment you ran into each other and kissed. Hundreds of people were wondering if you had always been his girlfriend instead of his friend. Then the photos started to also make their way into every single page that popped up on his homepage. They complimented your reaction, your beauty, the way you both looked at each other, when he carried you around the pitch, and how cute it was when you fixed his Man City hat and kissed his cheek. Everyone was happy for him. 

He was happy for himself. 

What a day to be a winner.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * ERLING’S TAGLIST

@questionable-behaviour | @koufaxx | @xjval | @nikki01234| @evarasworld | @kynykyny | @alleyahah | @444pantheress | @football4life9 | @f1lover55 | @frankcastleonlyfans | @ironmaiden1313 | @pizzapie349 | @may-machin

[smoooothoperator]

untouchable

10: Every Breath You Take

Lando Norris x OC (Violet Sinclair)

same group friend, unrequited love, acquittances to lovers, ski trip, love triangle

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: Harry, stalking, manipulation, drug use, sexual assault.

a/n: every story needs their villain! And this is actually the first one I ever wrote in my life. I think I want to make ia longer story than usual, with complex characters and a full plot worthy of a book. Who knows, maybe I'll even write a book based in this story? 👀 (Would you buy it?) Anyway... I want you to know that if some of you know a person that behaves the same way, stay alert. This is not healthy, contact people and make sure that person is away. Be safe.

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Psychopath (noun). A person with a psychopathic personality, which manifests as amoral and antisocial behavior, lack of ability to love or establish meaningful personal relationships, extreme egocentricity, failure to learn from experience, etc.

Narcissist (noun). A person who is intensely concerned with only his or her own self or interests and who seems to forget that others exist.

He never liked how he looked at her. How he smiled when she walked inside the room. How he always got up first whenever she asked for something.

Who does he think he is? How dare he do those things?

But later he understood it. He fell for her. That guy fell for her.

Her.

Violet Sinclair.

When he met her he thought she was pathetic. A pathetic thing that could only be his, to be used by him. How can someone as her smile that much? The way she tried to be friends with everyone irritated him.

But then she smiled at him.

That girl, who was clumsy and dumb, smiled at him.

And he promised himself that she won't smile at anyone else.

But then she introduced him to her friend Eloise.

Eloise was different to Violet. And he didn't like that. He didn't like that she was an independent woman, someone that already works on her family business, someone that can make money on her own. But he can use her for his own pleasure. He can have her whenever he wants to please himself.

So when he saw Lando Norris trying to reach for her, he did everything to keep him away from her, to keep Violet for himself and making sure she wouldn't try to be close to him.

“See? He loves the attention” he scoffed walking next to her through the paddock.

“I mean, he's famous…”

“But you don't see the way he smiles at everyone? He loves to hear how people compliment him. What an asshole” he laughed. “You should see how he acts during the parties”

“Gross” she groaned, making him smirk proudly.

But he can't always have what he wants.

He despised every man that touched her. And he made sure to push them away from her and make her look that no one will love her how she deserves.

Jared was the first one he met. Apparently, they met during summer. He was a guy two years older than her that studied in Manchester. Too far, too easy.

“Violet, you won't believe this” he frowned, walking towards her, holding his phone in her hand.

“What's that?” she frowned.

“I won't say I told you, but…” he sighed, showing her his phone.

A picture of Jared with another woman. Staged, of course. He knows that woman is his cousin, but since Violet never met his family, why would she know?

“W-what? No… he promised me!” she gasped.

“I'm sorry… come here” he sighed, opening his arms for her, letting her cry on his shoulder.

Then Michael came. He hated him the first moment he saw him leaning against that Mercedes-Benz, waiting for her at the door of the college. It was so disgusting, watching how he looked at Violet like she was a trophy, someone to sit in his expensive car and take her to boring places. But still, it was too easy for him.

“He broke up with me!” she frowned, walking inside the classroom and sitting next to him.

“What? What happened?”

“He said I'm not of his level” she scoffed, throwing her arms to the air “That his mother doesn't like that I'm not from the high class or shit like that”

“His loss” he scoffed.

“And he had the guts to say that by text! Not even a call! Look!” she frowned, showing him the text he made sure that stupid man wrote in front of him.

“What an asshole” he laughed, watching with a hidden pride that screen.

Owen was a little harder. But not everything is easy, if it was, life would be so boring.

He had to see how his Violet loved that man, how she had heart eyes whenever they were together. And that made his blood boil. He wanted that man out of her life, away and making sure that he never comes back to her. And never sounded so good for him.

It took him longer than he wanted, but he enjoyed every second of the final result.

It was her birthday party. All of them planned to surprise her at a club, renting the local only for the party. Or more like, Owen decided to make a party and include all her friends.

How disgusting. He hated that man, watching how he smiled at everyone and making sure everyone knew he was her boyfriend.

But until today.

When the party started and people were on the dancefloor, he started his plan. He only needed a drink for him and a few drops of the little bottle he had.

“Hey, mate” he smiled walking towards Owen, patting his back. “Today you did an amazing job. Here, cheers!”

“Thank you” he smiled, grabbing the shot glass, drinking it.

It was the beginning of the ending. And he was in the first row to watch it.

He only needed to give him three shots before it started to make an effect. The smile on his lips grew wider when he saw him walk towards Violet, taking her to an empty corner. The way he held her, kissed her and touched her. How she tried to escape from him. How he held her again, how he kissed her even if she tried to push him away.

It was just perfect. He never expected the drug to make someone act that way. The way he cried in panic, escaping from his touch.

She looked beautiful.

“Eh! Get away from her!” he screamed, running towards them and punching Owen.

The pain on his knuckles was nothing compared to the pleasure of hearing Violet cry and hold onto him when he saved her.

After that, it was easy to keep her close to him. She saw him as her saviour, as someone she completely trusts. And he loved that. He loved to see that for a while she didn't trust other men, that during the races she stayed with him. He loved to see how she started to fell in love with him slowly.

And the best part of it? That Eloise didn't mind. He thought it was good, she liked that both of them were close and she never questioned it.

How stupid.

But then she started to get close with Max and Lando again. He felt proud when he saw her be distant with them, but the moment he realized that Lando was trying again to get closer to her, he tried to find a way to eliminate him.

It was funny. Following him around the clubs, sending girls to him making sure they distract him while he took pictures of them. It was something that pleased him.

But Lando never tried to be her boyfriend. And it was something that drove him mad. But still, he had everything planned. All the pictures, all the videos, the audios. It was perfect. His masterpiece.

Yet, he never suspected anything. He never noticed the boxes that arrived at her apartment every two weeks. He never noticed the amount of books she was increasing. He never noticed the short texts between them.

Until that trip.

If Eloise didn't ask her to come with them, Violet would be safe in her apartment alone, reading those stupid books.

If Eloise didn't mention that stupid secret admirer, his week would be more calm.

Eloise. He has to make sure she's out of the picture. Always ruining everything, trying to set Violet up with someone. Trying to take her away from him

Who does she think she is? How dare she?

He made sure to keep Violet away from her. What a better way of showing Violet that her friend doesn't care about her than making Eloise ignore her while she moans underneath her boyfriend? And somehow, he had to let all the anger out.

What he never expected was that he had to fight two battles at the same time. And he hated not having control of it.

That sneaky Lando took advantage of the situation and got closer to her. He kept her away from him. Maybe he's washing her stupid brain and telling her lies.

But he was losing control. He saw how he was losing her, and it made him mad. It made him go mad.

She will regret it. She will regret believing in Lando. She will regret everything.

Because Violet Sinclair is his property. No one else’s.

She frowned looking at the packages and then at her phone.

If it's not from Lando… then who would have sent her the packages?

She left them on her kitchen table and searched for the sender, sighing with relief when she saw the names of her parents there.

“At least they sent something” she sighed, opening the boxes.

Inside them there were a lot of things. Her favorite chocolates, a few books, perfume and a little statue of Venus. She sighed looking at it, smiling. There was a note on one of the boxes and she grabbed it, smiling weakly.

‘I hope you had a good time in the snow. Happy birthday, love’

She frowned while reading it. She never told them she was going on a trip, nor to the snow.

taglist

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[jusst-you-race]

max & lewis, 9 ❤️

au where abu dhabi isn't the last race of the season because otherwise this would be so illegal... first time writing this pairing so i hope it's okay!!! thank for the prompt you can find the list here

a kiss in public

“Are you sure you want to do this?” 

It’s about the fiftieth time that Lewis has asked this question and at this point Max just rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, Lewis. I am sure. Still.”

Lewis nods and squeezes Max’s hand, clutched in his own like a lifeline. At this point, Max is starting to suspect that Lewis is more nervous about this than he is. They’d discussed this time and time again, and whenever the question of how they came out to the public came up, Max was always adamant that he didn’t want to make any kind of post or statement, he just wanted to start showing the world who they were. It’s taken a while for him to feel ready, and he’s grateful for Lewis standing by him through it all, especially when he knows Lewis has wanted to be out for a while now. But it’s the last race of the season, they’re both on the podium, and Max thinks there’s no better time than now. 

Lewis is ushered out onto the podium and, with a final squeeze of Max’s hand, he disappears around the corner. Max takes a deep breath. He’s not particularly concerned about the response from the media. He’s slightly more concerned about the FIA, but Lewis is confident they have enough WDCs between them to smooth things out. Mostly, Max is worried about Lewis’ friends and family. The immediate ones know, but Lewis has such a wide circle, is so loved by so many, and Max has always been worried that they’ll take one look at him and think ‘Not good enough’. Not for Lewis. 

He hasn’t voiced these thoughts, he knows Lewis wouldn’t like them, and would just deny that anyone would think that. But Max knows better. He takes another calming breath.

Lewis loves you.

He’s been reminding himself of that whenever the nerves get too overwhelming. Because at the end of the day, when Lewis loves him, what else really matters?

Max is ushered forwards, and he steps out onto the podium, taking in the crowd below them. He smiles and waves dutifully, then takes his place in the middle of the podium, giving Lewis a quick glance as he passes him. They lock eyes for a second, and Lewis gives him the tiniest little nod. It settles the last of Max’s nerves. They can do this. Together. 

The victory ceremony passes in a blur; he will always appreciate standing on the top step, but today there is something more important on his mind. The trophy is heavy in his hands, grounding him in the moment slightly. He raises it above his head, looking out across his team, until he lets his gaze slide to his left, where he meets Lewis’ heated gaze, his warm smile. 

Max’s stomach swoops.

Beside him, Lando is first to pop the champagne, slamming it down in his signature fashion, and Max is drenched before he even manages to pick his own bottle up. Lando douses him, then gives a knowing wink, before he turns to spray the remainder of his bottle over his team below. Max feels bad for a split second that he’s not doing the same, but really, he only has eyes for one man. Lewis laughs as Max hits him right in the face, and Max knows his mouth is bared in a kind of manic grin. 

He’s so happy. 

Eventually, the bottles run dry, and the officials are hurrying them back onto the podium for the photo. Max goes bright red as Lewis pinches him on the bum before sliding his arm around Max’s waist, and for a second Max hopes it’ll be blamed on the post race exertion. And then he remembers what they’re about to do, and realises no one is going to be talking about anything other than what comes next.

Photos taken, he turns, taking in the sight of the man beside him, drenched in sweat and champagne and smiling his beautiful smile.

God I love him.

Max pulls Lewis in, tipping him back dramatically just to watch his face light up. He almost drops him for a moment, hands still slippery with champagne. But the way Lewis beams up at him makes it all worth it.

Then Max leans down and kisses him.

The crowd roars.

[flanaganfilm]

Hey Mike, I’ve really enjoyed reading your long posts on projects you’ve worked on through your career. I was wondering if you could talk a little about your experience in film school and making your student films. I was able to watch Ghosts of Hamilton Street a while ago and found it really interesting how some of the same themes in that film have been consistent through all of your work and have really liked seeing the progression and progress you’ve made in your stories since. Thanks!

Oh wow, deep pull here. I don't often talk about these movies, which I think of as the "Towson Trilogy."

They were amazing learning experiences, but aren't really fit for public consumption. I consider them an incredible, irreplaceable film school, but I've gone out of my way to not to help them become available - they just aren't on a level that I'd feel comfortable putting out into the world.

So let's go back to 1998.

I was an undergrad at Towson University in Maryland. I had dreamed of being a filmmaker for most of my childhood, and had made a few backyard movies on VHS with friends, and some VHS shorts in high school. But the idea of a career in filmmaking was very farfetched. My father was in the U.S. Coast Guard and my mother was a medical office manager. They were always very supportive of my little "movie projects," but also very much invested in my education and wanted me to focus on careers that were more likely. A career making movies seemed very, very unrealistic, and I spent my senior year of High School focusing on coming up with a "real job" I could get passionate about. As I graduated High School, I had let go of the filmmaking dream and was hoping to get enough scholarship money so I could afford to go to Loyola University Maryland, where I wanted to major in secondary education.

I was going to be a high school history teacher.

I didn't get enough scholarship money to attend Loyola, so I ended up enrolling at Towson University (then called Towson State) instead. I was initially very disappointed by this outcome, but it turned out to be one of the best things that happened in my life.

I was still planning on following the education track, but I felt discouraged and bruised by missing out on Loyola. So as I filled out my freshman electives, I signed up for Intro to Film on a lark. I mean, my hopes and dreamed hadn't panned out. I didn't get into my first choice school (or my second, for that matter) and here I was.

Why not?

It was immediately clear to me that this was what I wanted to do with my life. It was what I'd always wanted to do, if I was honest - I had been making all of those little movies, I lived and breathed movies, I had been saying since I was kid that I wanted to make movies for a living, and here was my chance to learn more about that world. I was hooked immediately. I started to ignore my other classes in favor in spending more time in the Mass Communications department (there wasn't an official "film" major at Towson); so what if this wasn't a "real job," so what if I didn't have a chance in hell of being a professional filmmaker... I had access to cameras. That meant I could make movies.

This happened to coincide with an exciting time in independent filmmaking. Spike Lee, Edward Burns, Kevin Smith, Jim Jarmusch - we would talk excitedly about the rumored budget of Robert Rodriguez's El Mariachi (everyone said it was just seven thousand bucks!), we would talk between classes about the filmmakers who were forging careers out of thin air on shoestring budgets. People were breaking the rules, and bucking the system. Careers were being made on one rogue film. They weren't climbing the ladder; they were suing for membership. Make a movie, then make a career. Independent Film was the way in. The odds might be against you, but if your number came up... man, you were on your way.

I had a substitute teacher in one of my film classes. His name was Steve Yeager and he'd just won the filmmaker's trophy at Sundance for his documentary about local hero John Waters, a movie called Divine Trash. He was the toast of Baltimore at the time, and he spoke breathlessly about the independent filmmakers who were leading the charge and finding audiences outside of the studio system. He told the students that any of us could do this - any of us could make a movie, especially using this brand new technology called:

DIGITAL VIDEO.

Steve argued that DV had democratized filmmaking, and cited filmmakers like Mike White, whose DV feature Chuck and Buck had just hit the festival scene. Dogme 95, the creative movement founded by the Danish directors Lars von Trier and Thomas Vinterberg, was the talk of all the cinephiles. Not only could we make a movie, Steve declared, we could make it for a fraction of the cost that most filmmakers had had to bear over the years when dealing with purchasing and processing film.

I had been inspired by movies like Clerks, The Brothers McMullen, and Stranger Than Paradise - I was working on my own script, a slice of life story called Makebelieve, which was focused on the only slice of life I knew anything about: a college kid,,, who loved movies... and... had a crush on a girl.

You write what you know, I guess.

Now, our little Mass Comm program at Towson was a great way to get experience making movies, but we made them as part of a group. The best case scenario was waiting until you were an upperclassman and hoping you'd be able to direct a short film with your classmates, but most students never got their turn directing. Some students would labor through the department for four years but never sit in a director's chair when the senior projects came around. I was too impatient to wait for that. I wanted to be like Kevin Smith, Mike White and Ed Burns - I wanted to make my movie, my way, right now.

I was actively averse to commercial viability (an allergy it took me far too long to overcome), utterly enamored with the emerging mumblecore "indie film" vibe of the time, and convinced that a movie comprised of extended conversations about collegiate dating would make for riveting entertainment. I had several friends in the Theater Department, enlisted the help of my roommate Dave Foster, and pretty soon we were doing table reads and shooting proof-of-concept trailers on miniDV.

Raising money for the movie was a huge challenge. A girlfriend had managed to get ahold of Bruce Campbell's email (it was the worst-kept secret on the fledgling internet at the time), and I emailed him to invite him to be part of our little movie. He actually wrote back - he declined participation (for reasons that are astonishingly obvious to me now) but was kind enough to send some advice for the production. We were so grateful he took the time to respond that we named our production company after our favorite line from Army of Darkness... we were Sugarbaby Productions.

Steve Yeager, my substitute teacher, had told the class "if any of you write a feature film, I will do what I can to help you produce it." I came up to him after class and handed him the script for Makebelieve. He looked a little shocked, but he agreed to read the script. He did, and he liked it, and for reasons I may never understand, he said "okay, fine. I'll produce your movie."

Steve was true to his word. He didn't bring money (it would have been certifiably insane if he had), but he used his connections to find a crew of professionals in Baltimore willing to work on a little college movie. We had fundraisers, we had bake sales, we sold T-shirts on campus to raise cash to shoot. We hit up every family member and friend for possible investment (my parents, to their endless credit, put up more money than they could afford), and we scraped together enough to shoot the thing.

We filmed Makebelieve on miniDV in over the summer of 1999. The University gave us access to its facilities to use for locations, we had the run of campus, and our tiny cast and crew received independent study credit for their participation in the film.

The technology wasn't quite the amazing godsend people had made it out to be. It was low resolution, there was not yet anything that allowed you to change frame rate; everything still had that "soap opera" feeling you get with 30 fps.

We compensated for this by emulating a Hal Hartley film I'd seen at festival called Book of Life, which had opted for a slower shutter speed to give the film a dreamy, smeary look that hid the frame rate. We shot at a 1/15s shutter speed, and the movie looked a bit like an acid trip... but at least it didn't move like a soap opera.

The finished movie... well, it's not very good.

It was my first feature, it wasn't really about much of anything, but it had some fun dialog and a truly committed young cast. It had promise. And we finished the thing! That was the biggest miracle. It was the best film school I could ever hope for - a trial by fire that pulled me through each and every phase of production and forced me to learn on the job.

The film was rejected by every single major film festival - my dreams of being the next Sundance breakout auteur were dashed very quickly. But we had our world premiere at the Maryland Film Festival in 2000, to a sold out crowd, and that was the single biggest night of my young life up until that point.

I was completely hooked. I knew the film was deeply flawed, and I was eager for another at-bat - I knew I could do better.

I wouldn't wait long. I had already written a script for an "edgy" follow-up to Makebelieve called Still Life. It was "edgy" because it featured a more nihilistic plot, about a group of photography majors who begin exploiting elements of their lives for their senior thesis project, and in doing so get disconnected from their lives by examining them through lenses (Get it?! Man, I sure was a film student, wasn't I)

I had gone through a bad breakup after Makebelieve was done, an engagement that had ended and broken my young heart. Frankly, we were just babies - I really had no business whatsoever trying to get married at 21 - but I wrote that breakup into the script and let the bitterness rip. Edgy, right?

I used most of the same cast from Makebelieve (thus beginning a habit that still holds true today) and set about trying to find money to make the film.

The issue was how to raise money. We had already knocked on every door to finance Makebelieve and nobody got their money back; the movie never sold. Investing in independent films is one of the highest risk investments you can make. We'd turned over every single rock we could think of last time, how the hell were we going to do that again?

We courted more investors, including some professional risk takers and VC people. An accountant named Harry Rosen drummed up a bunch of investors in exchange for a role in the film (he played the grandfather of one of the leads). This movie had more money than the last, and it wasn't from friends and family by and large - it was from people who were giving and expecting much more.

We shot Still Life in the summer of 2000, just after Makebelieve had premiered (even then, I couldn't wait for one movie to come out before starting another). It was a more ambitious shoot across the board. And again, it was a phenomenal learning experience. And again, the movie wasn't quite... good.

The first cut was 180 minutes long. Yep, 180. The Final Cut is... 75 mins long. So... yeah, it was probably a few drafts undercooked.

It was indulgent, it was uneven, and it was spectacularly self-important. But it got into some more festivals - quite a few more than Makebelieve -and it even won some awards.

See, the rise of digital video meant an avalanche of digital movies. It had democratized filmmaking after all - suddenly, the sheer volume of submissions at film festivals increased by a factor of ten. And with that many thousands of extra movies flooding the festival market, the laws of supply and demand kicked in - there were suddenly a LOT more film festivals.

And there were film festivals who weren't terribly scrupulous. There were festivals who only existed to collect submissions fees, and they'd accept movies that otherwise would never have made it into a fest, so long as they thought they could make some money of the filmmakers. Some of the fests we played back then soon became notorious for running these kinds of scams. But it wasn't nearly as difficult to get into festivals as it once was... and it wasn't nearly as difficult to win awards.

One of the festivals we were accepted into was in Los Angeles, and I came out to LA for the first time in my life for the screening. While here, I started making plans to move to California. It seemed impossible, daring, and crazy at the time - I had no money, my movie had some laurels on the poster but wasn't commercially viable - and I had no idea how to pull it off. But I decided then, walking around Santa Monica late one night after a screening: as soon as I graduated from Towson, I'd move to LA.

But it turned out graduation was a long ways off.

Still Life took up an enormous amount of time, and I fell behind on my studies. The film never did find a distributor. It played a few dozen fests (some of which were downright predatory) and then it was over.

Itching to keep shooting stuff but certainly out of fundraising options, I ended up part of a startup production company consisting of a recent grad and another student at Towson, and we actually got a couple industrial jobs around Baltimore. I took a semester off to focus on the work. Graduation got pushed back. And then I took another semester off when more gigs came in. I finally graduated in May 2002, two years later than I'd planned. My production company had gone bust (we had no idea what we were doing) but we did some good commercial and industrial work and I got some experience trying to manage a business.

I had also wised up in one very important respect: I had kept writing scripts this whole time (you really can't help it, if you're a writer) and I had finally decided to embrace GENRE.

I had written a script called Ghosts of Hamilton Street. On the outside, it looked like an episode of The Twilight Zone; the plot centered around a washed-up alcoholic who starts to notice people in his life disappearing without a trace... but whenever one of them goes, the world around him completely rewrites itself as though they never existed at all.

I thought I was starting to play with genre conventions, doing a light sci-fi story that would be fun and character-forward. What I was really doing, though, was dealing with the fact that a lot of my closest friends from college had graduated on time, two years before me, and gone out into their adulthoods. I missed them, and I felt that my world was altered with each of their absences. I was starting to get introspective.

This was about something. It was about regret, it was transition, it was about losing one's comfortable world and heading into the unknown. It was about my regret for my failed engagement (and my exploitation of it for Still Life), and about the friends who had gone ahead into adulthood without me. It was also, I realize now, about having a drinking problem. I wouldn't really understand this, or take any action to fix it, for fifteen more years.

For now, I just knew this one felt a little different. It had an engine. I had something to talk about for the first time in my filmmaking career. This one wasn't a class project, just fumbling around with the technical realities of production; this had a tiny, infant, unformed little voice in there. It was small, it was buried, but it was there.

So how could we finance it?

Okay. You're not going to believe this, but it's true... I've never really talked about this publicly before, but it's the truth so here goes:

A good friend of mine, a fellow student at Towson, was hit one night by a Papa Johns delivery car while crossing the street. He settled with the company and came into a lot of money. He invested some of that to finance Ghosts, and... well... that's how we did it.

Yep, you read that right: my third feature was financed because a friend of mine got hit by a pizza delivery guy. So when people ask me what advice I have for fundraising, unless I say "start shoving your friends in front of delivery vehicles", I'm being a bit of a hypocrite.

My friend was now a bonafide executive producer, and he was walking normally again, so we were off to make a movie!

It was a modest budget compared to the sprawling mess that was Still Life, but the digital video technology had advanced - we were now shooting in 24p, and for the first time in my career, my little digital features actually moved like a movie.

Again, the cast brought back some familiar faces from Makebelieve and Still Life. We held auditions for the other parts.

One of the fellow Towson students who auditioned for a role was a girl I knew tangentially from the theater department. She was much closer to my roommate Paul Jerue, who was working on the movie too, but she'd been over my place a few times and we'd hung out here and there.

Her name was Amy Schumer, and I remember her audition very well. I didn't give her a part in this movie. I remember telling the producers I thought she was too funny for it. She was quite funny, in fact. I think she's also now the most famous person to come out of Towson University.

Somewhat ironically, there aren't a lot of photographs from this period of my life, because I didn't have a digital camera. Everything was on film, and just about all of those shots are lost to time.

But there are a few leftover from Ghosts that I'll share here - I've used my phone to snap some pics of pages from a single surviving scrapbook:

(Holy god, I actually had hair...)

Ghosts of Hamilton Street isn't a bad movie. It had taken me years of work, but I had finally made something that wasn't bad. They say your first ten movies are gonna suck, so get them out of the way early... maybe I was a little ahead of schedule after all.

Even though I had graduated just before we shot it, I still consider it a student film. It was shot in and around campus, utilizing equipment from the school, and the cast and crew were comprised of students and graduates (a lot of the cast were returning actors from Makebelieve and Still Life).

The star of the movie was a student who was ahead of me by a year named Scott Graham. I loved working with him, and I loved what he did with this movie.

(The great Scott Graham, three years before the Oculus short)

Three years later, he would fly himself out to LA from Washington DC in order to star in a short film I'd make in Los Angeles called Oculus.

(Filming Oculus - Chapter 3: the Man with the Plan in 2005)

Looking back, I think of Ghosts of Hamilton Street as my first movie. The other two were just class projects, really, and I was throwing spaghetti against the wall. But this one... it features an ambitious 90 second oner in the middle of the movie that competently tracks Scott through a bewildering office environment. It's a good shot.

It uses its genre moments as extensions of character, and is not concerned with scares or set pieces. It's metaphorical, whereas the other two movies were literal.

And it ends on a monologue.

As far as film festivals, it actually did okay. We screened at a few dozen places, and even traveled with the film. It won some more awards at some reputable festivals. And that winter, just after its premiere, when I packed the moving van to go to LA, I brought 100 DVD copies with me, hoping it would kickstart my career in Hollywood.

It wouldn't; that would happen ten years later, with Oculus. And when I filmed the Oculus feature, Scott Graham - star of Ghosts of Hamilton Street, and star of the Oculus short - played the janitor at the auction house where the mirror was kept.

And the two police officers who arrest Brenton Thwaites at the end of the film? Zak Jeffries, star of Makebelieve, Still Life, and Ghosts, and Dave Foster, my freshman year roommate, who worked crew on every film I made - even the little 8mm shorts - in Towson.

Nat Roers, who starred in Makebelieve and Still Life and was also my roommate for the last two years of college, appears as a jogger in Absentia, Dash Mihok's doomed wife in Before I Wake and as a reporter in Gerald's Game.

My professor at Towson who encouraged me to make all of these movies, and helped every way he could, was a man named Tom Brandau. He acted in Ghost of Hamilton Street, but he also was running the Fargo Film Festival in 2011, and he invited us to host the world premiere of Absentia at the festival. He also sat with me at the monitor for a week while we filmed The Haunting of Hill House, and for several days at the Overlook while we shot Doctor Sleep. He passed away a few years ago, and I miss him terribly.

As for Steve Yeager, the substitute teacher who dared us to make a movie my freshman year, and then put his money where his mouth was and produced my first digital feature a year later - Steve was also on set for Gerald's Game and for Doctor Sleep, and we went out for a beer to celebrate after a long shoot day. I quit drinking before that movie wrapped, so I believe it may have been one of the last beers I ever had, and I'm so glad I got to share it with Steve, who took this pie-eyed kid from his class and told him he could be a filmmaker.

My roommates when I moved out to LA were Ghosts star Zak Jeffries, Ghosts producer Jeff Seidman, crew members Amy Winter (soon to be Amy Seidman), Joe Wicker and Gaby Chavez.

In a way, all of these people were the foundation that started it all. I actively hate Netflix's lame "Flanaverse" idea, but if there was a Flanaverse, these were the people who built it. Scott Graham, Zak Jeffries, Dave Foster, Nat Roers, Jamie Sinsz, Megan Anderson, Steve Yeager, Jeff Seidman, Amy Seidman, Will Pinkine, Rich Koeckert, Jessi Bounelis, Chris Cridler, Sarah Yarbrough, Kara Webb, Kerry Brady, Joe Wicker, Gaby Chavez and Tom Brandau.

They were ride or die, man.

I think back on that time now and laugh. What a deal we made about digital video... I remember scraping together $2,000 to buy a 9 GB hard drive to edit - yes, I said NINE GIGABYTES.

I think about all of those dreamers out there today who have a 4k camera with 256 GB (or more) IN THEIR POCKET.

Yep, you've got a camera in your pocket that is infinitely more powerful than the cameras I filmed the first four features of my career on. Anyone who says they want to be a filmmaker and aren't sure how to start... I mean, take that thing out of your pocket and SHOOT SOMETHING. You are so, so, so ahead of the game.

So thank you for asking the question, and sorry for the long post. What I will always remember about that time was just how wildly, recklessly, adorably foolish we were... and how if we hadn't been, I might not have a career at all.

I made three independent feature films in my twenties, and another in my thirties, and while I don't think most of them are ultimately worthy of an audience, they were the best education I ever could have hoped for. I made them with dear friends, some of whom have remained in my life and heart to this day, and all of whom I owe an enormous debt.

My favorite thing? The title of the first one.

Makebelieve.

Because man, we were kids. Everything about that word is whimsy, innocence, and naivety. It's not a perfect movie; in fact, it isn't even a good one.

But that is a perfect, perfect title.

[bathomet-writes]

siblings!!

summary: When Mutation Day rolls around, you take it upon yourself as the youngest turtle sibling to get all your brothers the perfect gifts tailored to each and every one of them!

relationship: Platonic Turtles x F!Turtle Reader

warnings: platonic, fluff, humor, headcanons

author's note: for @/snipersiniora!! 💕

As the lesser known and youngest teenage mutant ninja turtle, there wasn't much expected of you. It annoyed you to no end. Not that your family looked down on you necessarily, they just didn’t think you were very…skilled. 

“Just let us handle it!” Raph would say. 

“Don’t sweat so much about tonight’s mission.” Leo smirked, ruffling the top of your head. 

Mikey and Donnie were a little less condescending than the others, but they still treated you like the littlest. Which you were, but it was still infuriating. It didn’t really help that you were a bit of an outlier among your family as the lone female turtle. 

You sigh, spinning around your tactical umbrella. 

“Maybe it’s my weapon? I do kinda look like Mary Poppins with this thing.” You frown. 

It was a relatively normal-looking umbrella, but there was a hidden sword sheathed into the handle. It was always fun seeing the look on your enemy’s faces when you revealed just how secretly deadly it was. They immediately underestimated you, making unconscious assumptions. 

Shaking your head, you focus up. You didn’t have time to mope around thinking about yourself, not when you had birthday gifts to find! Well, Mutation Day gifts. You had everything all planned out, taking the time to come up with the perfect gift ideas for all your pesky older brothers. They really didn’t deserve such excellent treatment, but you were the bigger turtle. 

You honestly loved giving people gifts. It made you happy seeing other people happy. Maybe you were secretly a little selfish, getting some sick kick out of going above and beyond with your gift-giving. Maybe now was your chance to one-up your siblings, at least in a small, friendly way. 

“Let’s do this!” You drop off of the rooftop you were perched on, dropping down to the city below. 

mikey:

You knew Mikey was still a big fan of Meat Sweats

For some reason...

You never really got him, even though you and Mikey were kind of the un-official 'younger twins'

To the uninformed observer, you two looked and acted practically exactly the same

You were both pretty upbeat, caring, and prone to wild acts of gymnastics

But you had a bit more of a stubborn personality

Not stubborn, just determined!

It was your determination that was going to get you Mikey's gift

After some cursory online research, you were able to find Rupert Swaggart's cookbook/autobiography

That probably would have been a good enough gift, but you wanted to go a step further

It takes a bit of cajoling (maybe a little physical violence) but you manage to hunt down Meat Sweats and get him to sign your copy of his book

leo:

Gift giving for Leo was pretty straightforward

As long as it had something to do with him, it'd be perfect

He never shut up about the fact that he was a Battle Nexus Champion, so you figure something to do with that would be the way to go

...Now, all you had to do was think of what that would be exactly

An award perhaps? Maybe an old bowling trophy with his name plastered on the front

Good, but you could do better

Strolling through the Hidden City, you searched around for some kind of inspiration

There were dozens of vendors and booths selling trinkets, it was practically a treasure trove of gift ideas

It was when you pass by an alley when you see it...

Among the sea of torn-up flyers and advertisements, you spot a poster with Leo's likeness

Running toward it, you get a better look

It's some kind of fan-made screen print! It showed Leo standing confidently in the middle of a battlefield, Lou Jitsu costume and all

It actually made him look good, like a real badass

You couldn't pass up such a beautiful piece of art

Ripping it off the wall, you accidentally tear the left corner a bit

"Whoops..." You sweat, rubbing at the thin paper

Oh well, it would just have to do

donnie:

Donatello had many 'eccentric' hobbies

One of which was chemistry (AKA building weapons of mass destruction)

You knew Donnie was itching to get his grubby little hands on some Uranium, but you wrote that gift idea off immediately

"Where do you even buy something like that? The army surplus store? The black market?"

You decide to consult your sort-of-dad Baron Draxum, he had all kinds of crazy connections

Begrudgingly, he admits that he might...have access to Uranium

"I only have a little bit. It's well within my rights." He insists

After a while, you convince him to 'let you borrow' some

You wrap it up in a cute gift box with a nice ribbon

No one would suspect that there's dangerous chemicals in it! It looked so cute and unassuming!

You sneak into Donnie's lab while he's out on a mission and place it on his desk next to his computer set-up

You knew someone (probably Raph) would confiscate it from him at some point, but it was the thought that counts

raph:

Thankfully, you already had the perfect thing to give to Raph

It was a couple of weeks ago...

You frequented a local antique store, it was fun looking at all the weird human artifacts and knick knacks

One day, you just so happen to come across a Ghost Bear plush!

And it was HUGE! Almost as big as your head!

It must have been some old merch from when he was still human by the looks of it

Looking at the price tag, you cringe

"Ooohhh, that's...that's a pretty penny."

Silently, you debate with yourself

You knew Raph loved Ghost Bear, and plushes...

You would just have to ask Splinter for a little extra allowance next month

Cleaning out your wallet, you buy it

"That guy owes me big time." You smirk

Finally, you get all your gifts (minus Donnie's) together and present them on Mutation Day. To no one's surprise, your gifts are all happily accepted.

Mikey sniffled, bringing you into a tight hug. "I have Meat Sweats' autograph! He actually touched this book, with his own two hooves!"

Leo was rendered speechless, unrolling the Battle Nexus Poster. You chuckle, taking his silence as your proof that you gave him exactly what he was looking for.

"Don't worry, I already gave you your gift," you whisper, winking at Donnie.

You give each other secretive nods, but not before Raph makes a mental note to check up on Donnie later. You two were always up to no good.

He almost gets lost in his own thoughts before you nudge Raph his present.

"Here! I saw this and knew you just had to have it."

"Aww, you didn't have to--" He smiles, tearing open the wrapping.

Once he sees the plush face of Ghost Bear looking back at him, Raph immediately gets choked up. His eyes widen and start to water, bringing the plush up to eye-level.

"How did you find this? I thought they were all discontinued!"

Laughing, you do a little spin on your toes. "I knew it, I knew you'd love it! I found it at the pawn shop up top.

Before Raph can get too emotional, he collects himself and calls the rest of the turtles over.

"These are all amazing, and all we got you was..."

You peek over his shoulder as he motions over to the center of the lair. Sitting next to the skate ramp and workout equipment was some kind of long bench. When did that get there?

Walking over, you get a better look. It was, from what you can tell, an old gymnastics bar used for balancing.

You run your fingers along the side and marvel at it. "Is this for me?"

"Well, duh!" Leo smiles. "We tried finding one of those asymmetrical bar things for you to flip off of and stuff, but we sorta--"

"Donnie broke it moving it down here." Mikey cut in, eyeing Donnie up and down.

Sighing, Donnie shoves Mikey aside. "I told you to pivot, and you didn't pivot!"

Shushing his other brothers, Raph steps forward. "The point it is: We know we can be kinda a handful, and you don't always get the same treatment. But, we wanted to do something nice for you."

You beam, watching them come in to squeeze you into a big group hug. You agree, they could be a lot sometimes. But, they were your family. And you wouldn't trade them for anything.

"You guys are the best!"

taglist: @saspas-corner

[loggiepj]

Part 5 Part 6

Wanda is going crazy.

She can't stop thinking about you, about what Wong said, about what you said, about what you didn't say, about the mission you two had been to a week ago, about the cute way you slept all wrapped up in the blanket like a burrito. And most certainly, she can't stop thinking about what you see in Maria that suddenly you are head over heels with her.

Wanda won't let this affect her, won't let you affect her. She doesn't really see you that way, does she?

Of course, there's no truth in what Wong has said, right? You and Wanda are impossible. You and her aren't meant to be together.

Besides, there's also Vision. One thing Wanda always forgets about.

Certainly not because of you, for sure.

But every time you are around the compound, there's always this strange feeling she has in her stomach that she can't decipher what. It's maybe the expired milk she always forgets to replace or the change in the workout routine Natasha has implemented.

You, on the other hand, have no idea on the effect you have around the redhead, being preoccupied by your touchy girlfriend.

Now that the relationship is official with Maria, she flaunts you around like a trophy. You don't complain about it. It's nice to feel wanted every once in a while.

So you let the brunette have you whenever she wants to.

It's a wonder how no one still hasn't seen you making out in any of the common areas in the compound.

Until that very night Wanda decides to get herself a slice of the cake Tony bought during dinner earlier.

You: Maria, fuck-

Maria gropes your ass and squeezes them as her mouth trails on your neck.

Maria: Do you want me to stop?

Y: Someone could catch us.

Maria chuckles.

M: It didn't stop us from having fun last night.

Y: That's funny-

Someone coughs behind the two of you, making you both jump from each other. It's Wanda.

Wanda: Don't stop on my account please. I just wanted to have cake but I think I have lost my appetite.

Y: Wanda-

W: It's okay.

Then she leaves as quickly.

Maria averts your attention by pulling your face towards her again.

M: See, it's okay to make out in the kitchen.

Later that night, Wanda hears a knock on her bedroom door.

Hesitant to open the door, knowing it might just be Vision wanting to talk to her. She has no idea why ever since Vision came back to life, the connection with him doesn't feel the same anymore. Or maybe, she realizes there isn't a connection in the first place anyway.

But her eyebrows only furrow when no one is standing outside the door. She's about to close it when her head glances down on instinct and sees a tray containing a plate of chocolate cake on it.

When she picks it up, there's a note beside the plate that says

Hope your appetite's back now :)

Wanda chuckles to herself as she goes back inside her room, shaking her head as she immediately thinks of you and the crazy thing you are doing to her stomach.

Later on, Wanda realizes it's butterflies.

[cynautica]

One thing that kills me about Alyou is that for their relationship to develop you kind of have to address and utilize the isolation that goes unsaid in the game.

Like, we know Robin isn’t some social outcast. She enjoyed her work and was pretty outgoing. The only live interaction we get to see with another human is with Hal where he says she’ll be missed. She quite literally abandons everything to investigate Sam’s death on a harsh alien planet on the far reaches of the galaxy. She chooses to make herself an outcast. Anyone close to her that hears that is counting the days before she’s assumed dead and missing.

Al-an on the other hand is actively seeking his own people. The entire game is him looking for the other precursors, a goal we can only assume extends well beyond the game. Of which for Robin we can only assume two outcomes: they find the architects within her lifespan or they don’t.

If they do find the architects, how does their relationship fair? Does Robin get sent back to human civilization a hero to architects but a nobody to her own people? There’s no guarantee if she wrote about the precursors anyone would even believe her. Or, doing so makes her and the architects a target for Alterra. There’s no guarantee she’d ever be able to find a job she loved ever again, or, best case scenario her writings about the species make her famous. What then? Sure she might have money and fame, but she’ll no doubt never be able to talk to Al-an again with loads of questions still unanswered.

But what if Robin brings Al-an with her back to the human world? She doesn’t seem to have a lot of faith in humans not acting terrible, trying everything from putting him in a cage to keeping him as a trophy. He might get a kick out of being a science subject at first, but we know he’s not quick to make friends. Maybe he shares some advancements with the humans? If he trusts them that is.

The same goes in reverse in what if Robin stays for some time with architect society? They’d no doubt want to learn everything they could about humans resources willing. However it took Al-an a whole game to understand the nuances of human socialization before they even let him near one. I can’t imagine Robin being comfortable in a whole society full of very tall, very advanced, and very nosey aliens. Best case scenario Al-an shares his etiquette and respect with the other architects or they mostly ignore her. Even with this outcome Robin is still in a world not built for her in mind. She can still make friends with the architects, but they’d no doubt feel clinically asocial.

Then of course the third option, both are fully isolated. They neither find the architects and Robin chooses not to return to human civilization. They both have eachother to keep company, but they’ll always be alone. Humans are designed to seek other humans, and architects no doubt feel the same being social creatures. Sure one another might be “good enough” but there will always be that unmistakable feeling of solitude. Alone together, till one of them dies.

Then what? Does the other move on, driven purely by their desire for scientific conquest on the far reaches of the stars? Adopt a pet and live their life alone like Maida?

The closest thing to a perfect ending is that both the architects are alive and Robin chooses to return to human civilization, but both species are able to build a good working relationship. Both Al-an and Robin are regarded as heroes on both sides and still have the ability to talk every once in awhile. It would be really neat to see precursors join the supporting cast for subnautica 2, being our access port for advanced tech. But then us Rob-an shippers have to face the idea that their relationship would probably end with just friendship or both would still be ostracized for being weirdos

In any solution though there has to be some compromise. A perfect ending isn’t necessarily possible.

This is why I think Alyou should officially be classified as tragic yuri send tweet

[hail-brod]

A Chance and Beyond (4)

Previous chapter: (Chapter 3)

Next chapter: (Chapter 5)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Loki x FReader

Warning/s: Light angst?, patronizing treatments/mentions, nothing else probably (please tell me if I missed something!)

WC: 3.6k

The Norns must be taunting you for making you feel hopeless. But a little sorcery bonding is nice. Until it leads you somewhere else.

You remember the day when you and Loki exchanged Betrothal rings.

It was a formal celebration to announce your engagement with the prince. In Asgard, it was tradition to publicly officialize the bind of two people, especially when it ought to be an arranged one. It was a way to let people know that, it is a merry day for Asgard's future and for any suitors planning to court you, to lay off. The same is said for the young prince, Loki. Assuming that he does have a flock of maidens eager to get his attention.

He is a prince after all.

As the people of Asgard cheered for your affiance to the god, you and Loki intertwined hands. Just where your rings are. A gesture that contented the All-father more than ever. Even the All-mother glowed with smiles at your courtly showmanship.

And you remember yourself sneaking glances at the older prince.

Thor.

You we're so smitten when you first saw him the day you arrived in Asgard.

But as you stood there beside Loki, you realized it's no more than just a little puppy love at the man. You decided. He was still handsome and charmingly brave in your eyes but you only savored the limited moment you had with such feelings. It was better for you to let go lest you ruin the honor of your family's name.

Everybody knew the crown prince had no eyes for anyone in particular. He was a youthful god with so many choices of fine young maidens to behold. So you just settled for quick glances and far admiration, even more so that you've been chosen to wed his brother.

You didn't mind the deal. Nor did Loki.

He once told you that marriage was just a part of his duty as a royal prince, to heed his father's wishes. Nothing more than just that. It was all in favor for Odin All-father himself. And you don't think you had the right to oppose his wishes.

You're just a simple daughter of a noble from his court, a mere subject of his.

In fact, you we're quite satisfied at the arrangement. It brought prosperity to your household and a high recognition amongst the nobles. And you know your father deserved the title to be a king's in-law. He has done so much for Asgard and your family, as a wise lord and a kind father.

You never thought of marriage before, that's why you never felt bothered to be robbed off of such freedom to choose a husband. You had older brothers that would inherit your father's legacy, so you weren't as much as fussed about by your parents to set off and be a trophy to some entitled lord.

You enjoyed your position. Especially when you're fortunate enough to travel to Vanaheim and learn the ways of sorcery.

That kept you occupied so much for many years.

But to be asked to marry Loki was never much a disappointment to you. A well-trained sorcerer for a husband and a powerful sorceress-witch for a mother-in-law?

I mean, what's there to refuse?

Other people may not have understood it, but the practice of magic in Asgard isn't as well known as compared to the other realms like Alfheim and Vanaheim. So to have these two people within your reach is quite exhilarating to you.

You thought as much.

The celebrative air in the royal hall was far from dying down when you finally landed your eyes to Loki. Who was, at that moment, already grinning teasingly at you. You had to stop your growing irritation from showing in your eyes as you feigned a smile at him. You hated it when he always catches you swooning at a particular prince.

"Are you seriously mooning over Thor rather than me?" he lowly said to you with a tease. "You must really like torturing yourself after saying that you're done with my brother's charm."

"Pardon me," you faintly rolled your eyes and replied equally with playfulness. "but your eyes must be tricking you, my prince."

He huffed. "We'll see about that."

When the banquet hall feast came, he didn't waste a second and brought his dear brother to you, forcing you to an inescapable rounding chat.

Which was quite a surprise on your part. You thought he would have planned something far more despicable under his sleeves, but it seemed like he was feeling humble. Suppose you quietly swooned at the crown prince while the three of you flowed the conversation. But after that, you didn't pass the chance to cast a simple magic trick at Loki while he entertained his lady guests.

Just a silly parlor trick right up his nostrils.

When he felt magic was at hand, probably nose itching to sneeze a thousand times, you provocatively avoided his hidden glares right at your peripheral view as you only smiled at your new chatty guest, intentionally dismissing him.

But you didn't miss the other guests' condescending stares, boring at your fiancé's form, going as far as distancing themselves away from him. Even hearing someone mutter to themselves the words 'immature second son'.

You recognized their ploys. These we're the other half of the Asgardians that didn't favor Loki well, and deemed him as a—rambunctious troublemaker.

They're not wrong, but they do act as if he'd personally wronged them—which he didn't.

As far as you'd known.

But you still also knew that Loki had done some inexcusable things at court—or even as a person.

You had witnessed him betray someone before, even experienced it yourself. Hel, even the first time you met he almost stabbed you. You had fought and insulted each other, but the storm calmed after awhile. Because you had one thing in common: sorcery.

Through sorcery, you picked at each other's abilities. But also through sorcery, you gave each other respect.

Followed by more common grounds, one after another. Until you crossed the border and saw why he acted the way he is. At first, you understood why his people separated themselves from him, despised him—and you still did—but the fact that, all that time, Loki was also trying not to be who they saw him to be. And then still twisted his intentions into something far more malignant.

That's also part of what you despised in their royal court and amongst the people of Asgard. As much as you ogle at the older prince, they make it a point to give all their praises to Thor, and then push back Loki into his brother's shadow. You didn't find the idea sensible at all even before meeting Loki, but you definitely knew courts can never have a time without taunts.

And it bothered you so that it just became natural for them to ridicule and antagonize Loki, even when after he did his best to satisfy their screwed morals.

Ultimately, he can be just a simple prince with so much naught for petty parlor tricks and a clever silver-tongue, ready to pierce one's own. He became bearable to you overtime. And you guess to him, you we're too.

But he's still remarkably good at concealing anything he feels. There's no wonder why he's a master of persuasion and has an adequate amount of patience.

Well, you? Not quite.

You clearly remembered what you did after you felt yourself increasingly get annoyed by the group of snob noblemen, who in fact, was clearly mocking Loki in their heads.

Next moment, one of the man's drink was spluttering out from his own mouth as his disgust was evident on his face. The magic you casted had altered his mead's taste. Though the worst part is, King Odin was standing mere inches in front of him. The man had spat at the king's face, that was enough to get all of the guests' attention.

You knew you we're responsible for it. So you paled.

Even more so when you spot the queen's eyes on you as she lifted her chin up. You saw the glint in her eyes that made you stand up straight.

By Mimir's head, you thought. the queen will behead me.

You know she wouldn't.

You could say she looked amused, but there's no possible way in Urd's well you're excused to be that unrestrained. That was her husband for Bor's sake! You discreetly flew your eyes away from the scene and the All-mother's face, to which then landed on Loki who clearly saw the mishap.

Now both master sorcerers felt what you did and you have never felt so cornered in your whole life.

But you certainly didn't miss the odd look Loki gave you before it contorted into a delighted one. Almost as if he is proud.

"Looks like you'll be given a scolding later by my dear mother." Loki tauntingly whispered to your ear as he neared.

All you can give him was a pleading look and a hesitant, "She wouldn't."

"She would." he said, and lightly laughed. "But she'll probably realize that that sod deserved it."

You only huffed. "Well, he definitely did."

When you glanced back at him, he was already giving you yet again the same odd look. But it quickly disappeared once he met your eyes as he looks away with a faint jovial smile.

You've never seen him so genuinely pleased more than ever.

When you woke up, your heart was heavy.

You sat there on the bed, your breathing lightly quickening as you tried to process something in your mind.

While you stilled, you dryly swallowed and blinked the sleep away, trying to calm yourself down. As soon as you opened your eyes from your slumber, then sat up to orient yourself better, everything you dreamt just started to fade into missing parts of images.

Panic rises up to you.

No...no, don't....

And as your chest kept closing in, you realized you wanted to go back and force yourself to sleep. You felt like you just ended up in a different reality or in an another nightmare that you've lost in, so you desperately grasped for the dream that's slowly slipping away from your fingertips. You pulled your thighs to your chest and buried your head above.

You crumbled. This is a different reality.

You heaved out a shaky breath as you closed your eyes, only then did you found yourself weeping as the tears welled out from your closed lids. Your nails dug onto your arms while you leaned there.

In that moment, you know you've given up.

You know you're gradually waking up to a reality that's only existed within your mind, and heart. You know there's no way to go back. You know it's gone.

You know you want that life back.

It hurts because you never truly did got tell how much you love him.

Taking your time to sulk and let the weight from your chest disappear, you tried to count to ten. The pace of your hitched breathing begins to slow down until you lastly take a deep breathe, then exhaled.

You dryly swallowed. Early in the morning and you're already having a crisis with yourself.

Hvergelmir could just drown me for all I care.

Alas, you don't really wish that right now. You think that a cold bath would be nice. Your eyes are swollen and cheeks are soaked, and it seems like the brightly lit sun peeking through your window feels too warm on your skin.

But you also take a moment to look around the room, orienting yourself once again. Until you did remember something clearly the night prior.

You heard Loki.

You know his voice anywhere, and it was loud enough to hear and to hear your name at that. Of course, you could not explain how that would be possible. Once there and then just disappear? If it was the Loki from TVA, then he would have had opened a time door, then off you had gone with him. But apparently no. Your mind must have been just too desperate with so many things so you guess you're starting to hear voices now.

It's either that or it was also just a dream.

Yeah.. you thought. just a trick of the mind.

Though, you know in your heart that you wish it wasn't.

When you headed out from your bedroom, with clothes now changed into Midgardian ones that you've scoured about in your given wardrobe, the hall that greeted you was empty. Yet, at the end of it, there we're voices talking. You sneakily walked towards it to see who. And you see two people.

You just realized now why the blond woman with the Avengers was familiar to you. All that's different from her appearance is her hair, which is according to what you remembered was red.

Natasha Romanoff.

And next to her was Steve Rogers.

You slowly let yourself be visible, urging yourself to step out louder to get their attention.

Though, never mind that. They already felt you before you could even take a few steps. Their heads immediately turn not a moment from your spot. You freeze.

Ah, you thought. that's terrifyingly great instincts.

"Oh," Natasha was the first one to speak. "it's you." she looked at you with nothing much but curiosity as she regarded you with a tug from the corners of her lips.

"Hello.." you hesitantly greeted with a small smile.

"Good morning to you." Steve says with a polite nod and a gentle smile. There's that firmness in his eyes mixed with a softness that balances his authoritative and kind nature. But then he struggled to say his next words. "You, uh...We actually didn't got your name."

You raised a brow. Did they not joined to watch your interrogation?

Oh.

You suppressed a laugh and slowly nodded your head. "Yes, I- I know...." you said with a pause as they quirked up. "I know you watched my interrogation. You don't have to lie no more." your eyes went to Natasha who looked quite awestruck, but gathered herself in an instant.

Steve lightly raised his brows and his eyes lowered down in shame as he exchanged quick glances with his fellow Avenger. "Of course."

Natasha turns to you with an apologizing look. "Sorry about that. Tony is just hard to deal with and...we just had to see for ourselves if you can be an ally."

You lightly shook your head. "That's fine now. After all, it is the reason why I'm out of that cell."

Steve lightly chuckled. "You're right. You have to thank Thor for that. He's been very insistent on convincing us to free you. Saying that you're still one of his people even if from a different reality."

You softened at that. "So I heard." you said. You try to recall what Bruce said to you last night, and thought about what else he told you. "What about Loki?"

Steve thinks for a moment before he gave you a faint serious look. "You should keep an eye on him."

Beside him, Natasha huffs with a roll of her eyes. "I don't see it that way." she raised a brow at Steve. "Have you seen how that rascal acted when he heard her name?"

Your ears perk at that.

"I did." he turns to her with a look of neutral assurance. "And he could be plotting something because of it."

The blond woman tilts her head, eyes challenging him. "I'm pretty sure everybody in this building thinks the same."

"Exactly." Steve answers back.

"Why? What did Loki say?" you ask with eagerness. Their eyes turn to you, though Natasha just gives you a smile.

"You'll see for yourself." she says, while she receives a frown from Steve, seemingly lost at what she's saying.

You're no different though. Confusion strikes you, but before you could even crease your bows harder than Captain America, Natasha followed through with her next words. "By the way, dining area's over there." she points towards the place. "You should eat first before the wizard portals next to you."

"What about you two?" you questioned.

"Don't worry about us." Steve replies with a nod. "We already had our fill. You should go eat...You earned it."

You revel at his soft tone and friendliness. Something in his eyes looks like understanding. A look that knows your hardship and the feeling of being lost somewhere. Being lost to time.

There's a wonder at the back of your mind but you just settled for a genuine smile.

When they left as soon as an aircraft landed outside the compound's fields, which you can see now in the light of the day, you ventured forth into the dining space and ate your fill. The meal just sat there and probably prepared by someone. Or something? But you didn't think much of it as you regarded the spacious dining area.

Before you could even feel the loneliness sink in at the sight of the empty seats, you had the feeling of being watched. Maybe even heard.

Perhaps, it's the thing about what Stark said. You are being watched.

You don't know by what but you don't really want to know either, so you just ate.

Sanctum Sanctorum.

That's where you are right now.

And while you are, magic courses through your veins as you kept trying to conjure, absorb, harness, control, anything that you can do to the little pebble of green that doesn't seem to open up to you.

And by you mean open up, trying to find its core of command and borrow its power to somehow lead you to where time is managed. One thing you know about magic, is that it can tell you secrets and commands. It's like an immediate breakthrough of knowledge that you can try to cast until you can be able to familiarize yourself with it.

But with the Time stone, its like there's nothing there. No core.

It's not like any other magic embedded crystals that you've tried to harness or absorb. But you also considered the fact that, this must also be what makes an infinity stone special.

"Nothing?" behind you, Strange stands while the Time stone is placed in front of you as it rests on a crystal holder beneath an antique table.

You turn, breath pacing. "Nothing...I- I don't get it. The stone itself, it's like- it's empty."

Strange's frown before only deepened and he sighs. Both of you had tried it several times. He didn't allowed you to do it in the first place since he had firmly told you before that he should be the only one to use it. But he eventually gave up and lend you a chance to try for yourself.

And now you both found yourselves still unsuccessful.

"How about we harness it both at the same time?" he steps beside you, eyeing the stone.

You look at him for a moment, eyes narrowed. "The stone will be overloaded and probably be destroyed."

He laughs and turns to you with a daring look. "Not if we put little amount of magic."

"Now, hold on." you halt him. "Acquiring the core command would be impossible with little magic—even if you and I combined."

Just when he's about to harness it himself, he lowers his arms down and looks at you. "Any suggestions then?" he says, almost irritatingly.

You think.

How can crystals be used in other ways? You know how to harness the core but what about the outside of the item? It's surface where the strings of magic can be accessed to cast its main level use. The simplest function of a crystal or any other magic stones. What else can it be used for?

You widened your eyes.

Of course!

"Compatibility." you mutter, turning to an increasingly confused Strange as you continued. "We might need to perform a forbidden spell."

"No."

You inhale, getting ready to explain yourself. "I swear to my own life that I will be cautious and perform it carefully."

He gives you a dead look. "And what exactly are you proposing?"

"I have no idea." you honestly say. You see Strange preparing to retort to that but you hurriedly added. "But, there's a grimoire in Asgard that contains the spell and we can use that as a guide."

You've never been really allowed to read that same book since it was prohibited for anyone to learn and use. It has lists of forbidden magics like dark magic and such, but you're clearly in dire need of a solution. And that's all you have left. There's one particular spell that can help you tear through space and time and its no wonder why it is forbidden. But with the Time stone and its ability to rewind events, its doable.

"Asgard?" he surprisingly asks.

"Yes." you nodded. "Your Asgard here should have it."

He only looks at you with a sudden change of his expression. His irritation had dissipated as he sadly frowned at your form.

What...

"Come with me." he finally says, walking past you. "Your fellow Asgardians might be able to help you know more." he then opens a portal to somewhere you don't quite recognize, but you do see a lot of greenery and expansive fields of grasslands.

"Is that...Asgard?"

He almost avoids your gaze and shakes his head. You looked at him in confusion, wanting more answers. He eventually gestured his head towards the portal, urging you to follow, so you did. Stepping out of the circular entrance, you took in the lands as you came to finally see the visible ocean. Along the fields we're houses being built and people scurrying to help—men, women and children.

"Why are we here?"

"To see Thor...and an another asgardian sorcerer who might be able to help us." Strange replies.

"Welcome to Norway."

Previous chapter: (Chapter 3)

Next chapter: (Chapter 5)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

'A Chance and Beyond' taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @lcolumbia1988

Ko-fi?

[racingliners]

So, in my many emotions at seeing these beautiful pieces by @aphrostiel, I ended up writing a ficlet about it (because how could I not indulge myself in writing the Seb and Schumi podium we deserved).

I may polish it up further and put it on ao3 for prosperity but I really wanted to just get it out there, I hope you like it!!

(Thank you so much to Jules for both their blessing to post this for for sharing such incredibly beautiful art!!)

Golden

The sun cast warm, golden rays in the widening breaks though the pale clouds as they walked out onto the podium together. Seb, being the young gentleman in training, suggested that Michael have his day and walk out alone. Michael, almost too overwhelmed to speak, insisted they walk out together.

They would both argue that Hockenheim looked beautiful no matter the weather, but today after a race that went from dry to pouring rain to dry again, it felt like no sight would ever come close to how the track looked right then in that moment.

Ross Brawn stood proudly on the constructors step of the podium, and was barely containing his tears as the German anthem was introduced over the tannoy. Seb couldn’t help it as he looked up at Michael, his mentor, his friend, and today probably the most fierce driver he had ever raced against, and watched as tears streaked down his face after the first few notes.

The Mercedes mechanics and engineers gathered below let out al almighty roar as Michael raised both fists triumphantly in the air at the end. There was something awfully poetic about him netting his ninety second win at Germany in a Mercedes, and the worlds press were already hard at work at their keyboards and notepads trying to figure out just how they could talk about the Red Baron’s triumphant return when no suitable adjectives really seemed to exist.

Right as the trophies were about to be presented, Michael clapped a heavy hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and beamed at him with a proud smile before fixing his winner’s cap back onto his head.

The crowd were beside themselves even before Michael was presented with the winner’s trophy – a 3D Santander logo that was painted with the colours of the German flag on in the inside but chrome silver on the outside. A fitting prize for a silver arrow. The sun glinted off the surface as the crowd and Mercedes team roared so loud it was a wonder they weren’t heard cheering for miles.

Sebastian, who still couldn’t quite believe that his childhood dream of sharing a podium with Michael had finally come true, accepted his second place trophy with a wide schoolboy grin. All he could think about was that day in Kerpen when he’d met Michael for the first time with wide eyes and a stunned smile. Seb was pretty sure that he was wearing the exact same expression on his face, and for once he didn’t care.

With the trophies presented, the dignitaries were quickly escorted off the podium and Seb let out a shaky sigh as he leaned down to grab the neck of his champagne bottle.

“Shall we get Ross first?” He asked with a cheeky smile. Michael looked at him with a familiar glint in his eye as he picked up his bottle with ease, and really he certainly was a professional in the art of spraying champagne as he popped the cork, jumped down from the top step, and ran over to Ross before the long-suffering Team principle had a chance to run away. The two men laughed as Ross was soaked through, and only when Michael was happy did he go over to the very edge of the podium platform in the hope some of the droplets of spray would reach his beloved colleagues.

Sebastian grinned as he sprayed champagne over Michael’s right side. Fernando, who had finished in third place eventually joined in and deposited the bulk of his bottle’s contents over Michael’s head.

When they piled onto the top step of the podium Seb gestured for Ross to stand between himself and Michael for the official photograph. Before he had a chance to respond Michael hooked an arm round his shoulder and pulled him in so they were stood side by side, brothers in arms complete with matching grins even if Ross still looked quite astounded with the events of the past two hours. Seb was still smiling brightly as the picture was taken, and when he took off his Pirelli cap to swap it for his Red Bull one, Michael reached over to ruffle his hair with a hearty laugh.

The crowd hadn’t relented in their cheers once, and they only hushed when Michael spoke during the podium interview. He tearfully thanked the crowd in German for all their support throughout the years – and especially since his comeback two years ago, before expressing gratitude just as heartfelt to his race engineer Bono for getting him to the end, and Mercedes head of strategy James for his cool-headed decisions that led him back to the top step of the podium once more.

He then turned to Sebastian, and looked at him with a proud smile.

“You know, I remember meeting a young kid in Kerpen many years ago, I never in my life thought I would get to race against him let alone for a race win. But we had a good fight, I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed racing against someone. I hope that we can do it again sometime.” There was a warm ferocity to Michael’s smile, not in the malicious sense but the kind of a true competitor. One that would never, ever give up without leaving anything on the table.

Seb said as such when the interviewer turned to him, adding that he knew going against Michael he would have to give everything, and while he was disappointed to lose the race he would always be honoured to say that he got to battle it out on track against his hero.

“Don’t worry Seb,” Michael said with a warm pat on the shoulder when they walked off the podium and back into the cool down room, arm in arm. “You’ll get your turn next year.”

Sure enough, almost exactly twelve months later, Sebastian took to the top step on the podium at the Nürburgring. Michael, now retired, apparently doubled up as a psychic. He sent Seb a text congratulating him on his first home race win, and in the week off between the races in Germany and Hungary he greeted Sebastian with a thumbs up and a bright grin when he and Hanna happily accepted an invitation to dinner at the Schumacher home.

Sat proudly in the living room, wrapped in thin white frames, hung two pictures from that day in Hockenheim. The first was of Michael with his trophy, the second of himself and Sebastian spraying champagne wearing the brightest of smiles. Mick couldn’t help himself when he asked his father and his friend just what it was like to race each other in such difficult conditions, and both Sebastian and Michael reeled off in great technical detail exactly how everything unfolded.

Seb couldn’t help himself as he glanced at the pictures as he left, the sun now set and the sky filled with twinkling silver stars, and he felt nothing but pride as he knew he would carry that day in his heart for the rest of his life.