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pb-dot · 3 months

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Film Friday: Inception

Today I'm writing about a movie that's a bit outside of my regular wheelhouse. Inception is not my favorite movie, it probably doesn't even get on the Top 10 shortlist if I'm honest, but it's probably one of my favorite movies ever to think about for a couple of reasons that I suspect are a bit unusual. This is all to say I'm going to go a bit deeper into Film Nerd mode than usual for this one. I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry. Inception spoilers beneath the cut.

So, to start off, I'm not particularly fond of Nolan as a filmmaker. He's extremely gifted on the technical side of filmmaking for sure, and his authorial voice is very strong. That said, his oeuvre seems entirely too cold and clinical to me. Sharp suits, sharp men, complex plans that pivot on perfect twists, near-realistic aesthetics. If there are any emotions involved it's what's ruining everybody's shit. Sometimes, Batman is there. You know, the whole bag.

Nolan makes complex clockwork movies that frequently fuck with time in an interesting way, but there's an emotional distance, or perhaps I should say "distance from emotion" to the whole thing which makes very few of them stick in any meaningful way. For example: I remember Dunkirk being a technically impressive movie that did some spicy things what narrative pacing is considered, but I couldn't tell you a single thing about who it was about, or even what those spicy narrative decisions were in service of.

There is, however, one notable exception. In his 2010 movie Inception, Nolan assembles one of, if not the most complex mechanism yet, and somehow it manages to be his most emotionally honest film. It's quite the impressive magic trick, and I would argue he achieves it by reaching a level of emotional honesty that one seldom sees from mainstream filmmakers.

Inception is a film about a crew of exceptional thieves specializing in cracking the final vault, the human mind. Using technology that lets them enter the dreams of their targets, they seek to extract company secrets, classified intel, and other pieces of knowledge that can most easily be hidden in memory. However, their troubled leader Cobb finds himself compelled to attempt a job thought impossible, Inception. Their mission is to plant in the mind of energy company heir Robert Fischer the idea of breaking up his company through a dream heist. This heist is complicated not only by the sheer deftness the crew must show in planting an idea without leaving any trace, but also by Cobb's own psychological scars that threaten to destabilize the carefully planned multi-level heist.

The first level I want to look at here is the central metaphor of the Mind Heist gang being analogous to a filmmaking crew. They're all creative and immensely focused people coming together under the direction of a man with a vision, Cobb. This description is perhaps a bit over-general, but what elevates the Filmmaking-as-heist idea to me is how the heists in Inception are specifically about creating a narrative. It is especially important with the main heist as creating a narrative in the head of the target is part and parcel of the inception, but even in the other heist we get to see, setting up a narrative is pivotal to stealing the information they're looking for.

As an aside, this narrative-making and the need for realism that comes with it also justifies what I consider to be my main sticking point with the film, in that the dreams are so very true to life and low-tech, while dreams in my experience tend to be strange, surreal and malleable experiences. This explains at least from the Watsonian perspective. From a Doylist point of view, it's more likely because Nolan is most comfortable with a near-realistic style of narrative, and this strict adherence to something approaching the realitylike makes his complex drama puzzleboxes easier to follow.

So, the heist crew are, essentially, filmmakers, which would, at least in today's Western film tradition, would make Cobb the director. In much the same way as Roy Neary in Close Encounters Of The Third Kind can be read as a stand-in for director Steven Spielberg, Cobb functions as our Nolan stand-in for Inception. Cobb is, however, far from a blank slate, or frankly a particularly idolized self. He is, in short, a mess.

After going deeper into the world of dreaming than anyone before him, Cobb has crossed some ethical Rubicons, especially when attempting to deal with his now-dead wife Mal and her reluctance to leave the world of dreaming. After performing the first-ever inception to plant the idea in Mal's head that the dream world is, indeed, not the real world, Cobb finds himself constantly troubled by anxiety as to whether he's asleep or awake. Whether this is a direct consequence or reaction to the act of inception, paranoia stemming from such a perspective-shifting thing even being possible, a manifestation of the guilt he feels over Mal's return to the waking world ending with her suicide, or even a sign that Mal did some incepting of her own, is something we can only speculate on.

Regardless of what exactly is eating Cobb, it manifests in his work. The heist crew frequently finds their efforts frustrated by incursions from Cobb's mind. The most common of these is Mal, or at least Cobb's mental recreation of her, throwing a wrench in their plans, and, in one particularly memorable case, a freight train running through an area a freight train really has no business being. Cobb tries to minimize the risk of this by not taking point and not being too directly involved, but this does little to dissuade his cocktail of trauma and troubled emotions from coming damn close to upending the entire thing.

The heist, however, does succeed. Through a series of bluffs and maneuvers, they manage to navigate Fischer Jr. to what he believes to be the deepest corner of his mind, where lies the comprehension, represented by a deathbed conversation with the man. Through this, Fischer realizes his recently departed father wishes for Robert to break up the energy conglomerate Fischer Sr. built, and instead make something for himself. It's a scene of high drama, and no small amount of catharsis as the troubled Robert realizes his father was never disappointed in him, and merely wanted his boy to be the best version of himself he could be. It's quite stirring stuff.

It is, however, a lie. This isn't Fischer Sr. revealing himself to be a caring father with trouble communicating the same, hell, it isn't even Robert's interpretation of the man. It is a scenario set up by the dream heist team with the express intention of making the dreaming Fischer Jr. believe this was his unconscious mind telling him to break up his energy conglomerate. It isn't Fischer Sr., not even as an imperfect mental construct by Fischer Jr., it's a construction of the heist crew. It's an act of manipulation, a triumphant act of manipulation, yes, but an act of manipulation all the same.

And still, even upon rewatching the movie with this knowledge well in hand, it's hard to not be swept along by the sheer force of emotion in that moment. Part of it is because it feels so necessary for the character. Fischer Jr. isn't just a target in the context of the scene, he's a troubled man with a complicated relationship to his father. He needs to settle his self-doubt and dismay with the stern and aloof parent he grew up with, and after his death, he still needs the catharsis. So in a way, it doesn't matter much that Fischer Sr. isn't the real deal, Fischer Jr. knows he's in a dream at this point, hell, it maybe doesn't even matter if the dream construct isn't his own. Perhaps what the dream-construct father says is what the wayward son needs to hear, although it'll certainly change the energy market in some pretty dramatic ways. Perhaps, or perhaps Cobb has become such a skilled manipulator his reach extends to the audience, but returning to our metaphor of Cobb as a Nolan stand-in, what is filmmaking if not manipulating and eliciting emotional reactions?

To further reinforce the point that this cathartic, but fake, heart-to-heart isn't the climax of the story, Cobb's journey isn't done. In the process of doing something thought impossible for the second time, Cobb is forced to do something impossible yet again, parallel to Fischer's revelation. This time, it is to dive deeper into the layered dreaming still in pursuit of his exit strategy, to the unconscious, chaotic under-realm of Limbo, from which there is no waking. This was from whence he managed to rescue himself and Mal back after the first inception, and although it is far from pleasant, he yet again manages to pull through and emerge from the dream.

Or does he? The movie does play with the possibility that the reality that Cobb emerges into is merely another dream in Limbo. It could be because of this the cinematography gets somewhat less focused as the heist concludes and Cobb finds his highest wish fulfilled, exoneration both in the eyes of the law and himself from any wrongdoing in Mal's death and the opportunity to return to his children.

Now, before I bring this all home, I feel I should speak briefly on Totems in Inception. The Totem is a series of different objects made by the various members of the heist crew. These items, Cobb's is a spinning top, are modified by each individual member and is only to be handled by them. The logic here is that these items are supposed to be a way to check whether you're in somebody else's dream, as you can check the object and how it interacts with the world to verify that it's doing what it's supposed to do, the weighted die falls to the number it's supposed to, the spinning top spins out and tips over like you'd expect it to. Throughout the movie, Cobb has a spinning top he checks regularly, some would say with obsessively, only feeling fully safe once the top tips over.

This is all to explain the lead-up to the final moment of the movie. Cobb, true to his habit, spins his top before meeting his children. He does, however, not wait for it to tip over, and instead goes to meet his children. The camera remains on the top, and moments before it becomes clear whether the top will fall over or continue, the movie cuts to credits.

Many have taken this as a challenge of sorts, a call to action to analyze the logic and events of the movie for signs. Is this a movie about a man succeeding or about a man succumbing? Is what we see in the closing minutes of the movie real, or is it a comfortable lie Limbo has formed around Cobb like it once did around him and Mal?

Personally, I say it does not matter. The story of Cobb ends with him leaving behind his totem for a reason. He has rid himself of the fear that has plagued him since emerging from Limbo and Mal's death. What if it was Mal who was right, and the quote-unquote real world was nothing more than a particularly elaborate Limbo dream. What if he never incepted anything, what if he's still dreaming within dreaming, stuck in a holding pattern until the impossibly long dream ends, his mind rent asunder by experiencing more time and place than a human mind is meant to bear. What if the top never stops spinning?

As my sequence of retelling might imply, I believe it was experiencing the inception scene with Fischer that helped Cobb clear the final hurdle and face his fears. Even if what Fischer experienced wasn't real, it had a powerful, arguably positive effect on the man. It gave him something he'd never get in the real world, closure. It wasn't real, but it was real enough.

So that is, I believe, what we're meant to take from that spinning top. The point isn't whether the top has stopped spinning or not, but rather that Cobb has stopped checking. Spin or not, Cobb's journey is not real. It's a movie, told by a crew of talented creatives, guided by a man with a vision and the willingness to show us things that aren't real to give us catharsis, show us wonder and terror, entertain us, and perhaps, give us some closure. "Try not to dwell on it," the movie says, as if aware of the deluge of movie buffs and wannabe theorists that would descend on this movie like they do on every movie with their red circles and reading metaphors as mechanics, "Even if it's fake, it's Real Enough."

#film friday #inception #oh lord this turned out long #I always feel conflicted while talking about this movie because I try not to psychoanalyze the author #I mean I've never even met the man #but it is hard to avoid while talking about an auteur making a movie about being an auteur #but I did hold back on it a bit - hope it doesn't read as too egregious #also for the record I'm so so on auteur theory #but that's another post for another day

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26labrd · 2 years

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tintin and the mystery of the golden fleece (1961) dir. jean-jacques vierne

#tintin and the golden fleece #tintin #the adventures of tintin #jean-pierre talbot #26gif #wanted to include calculus but couldn't make it work. deepest apologies to the calcheads out there i will rectify this in the future #text #60s films #this movie is so pretty i had such a hard time choosing which shots to use #i have a bunch of extras that i'll probably post eventually along with the extras from blue oranges #just so i won't have made them for nothing lol #tintin et le mystere de la toison d'or #tintin et la toison d'or #archive

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spongewormedpants · 4 months

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is it normal to have the lingering feeling that a movie left you with for like a month? 😸😸

um i i wonder what mvoi e this is in reference to um um umu ummmmm

#as you are movie #as you are 2016 #it’s hard to tag this because none of them have last names #this movie is so fucking sad #and eerie #such an offputting film #i loved it #it also broke me #and makes me cry

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langernameohnebedeutung · 10 months

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❤️

#rage-mode my beloved.#izombie #fandom #blaine debeers #so hard to make this look like it wasn't filmed in sepia during a sandstorm

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sparrowstarsandsorrow · 25 days

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To live and die in la, 1985, dir. William Friedkin

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sunkissedfawn · 4 months

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Post gifs of your favorite movies without naming them: Christmas Edition 🎄❄️⛄️🎁

#there's so many christmas movies that are iconic it was hard to narrow down but these are personal/make my heart warm and/or make me laugh #honorable mentions i'd also rewatch - happiest season/ both little women/ stepmom/ you've got mail/ the nutcracker and the four realms #all a christmas carol/ the polar express/ elf/ love actually/ miracle on 34th street (1947)#tag #christmas #list #film #gifset

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lovesomehate · 2 years

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Ted in Millennium Crisis part1

#millennium crisis #ted raimi #my gods the lighting in this film was horrendous #so fucking hard to make it look any better 😂#mine #I WANNA FUCKING EAT THIS MAN ALIVE #LOOK AT THIS DORK #I LOVE HIM

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meowmix1100blr · 9 months

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y'all we are not talking enough about Guggenheim Assemble THAT SHIT SLAPS SO FUCKING HARDDD Daniel Pemberton I love you

#SOUNDTRACK IS A BANGERRR #hearing others themes incorporated into a score makes me go crazy #sratches an itch in brain #i have an old friend who still hasnt seen atsv and its make me go crazy bc she loves to animate and just fucking know shed love it #shes coming back into town this week and i am praying so fucking hard that at least one theater keeps atsv a little longer #PLEASE GODDAMNIT PLEASE #im gonna drag her there #just kidding lol she already agreed to go w me #see a movie enough times you can visualize it in your head when you listen to the soundtrack bahaha #thats me with shang chi #atsv #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #reigniting my love and obsession for film scores #making me wanna do it for fun when i have zero creative bone in this body baby #all numbers and math unfortunately #this brain is emptyyy #daniel pemberton #atsv soundtrack #when i watch this a 3rd time ill be able to fully watch the movie in my head buly just listening to the soundtrack hehe

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fouralignments · 1 year

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My anxiety over the last couple of days has gotten so bad that I'm making myself sick. I really haven't had a good nights sleep. My lower back gets so tight that I get the irrational fear that somehow my spine is going break. It's not fun. All I want to do is get a good nights sleep and finishing writing that Assassin's Creed AU.

#personal #I do not like anxiety spiraling its not fun at all #Yeah lots of emotions after the glassblowing celebration of life for dad making glass art from my dad's ashes #emotions are hard #I feel so fucking bad b/c I just feel like can't live my life or celebrate my dad's because the first memories that come up are the WORST #one's that I have clear film grade clarity of just re-winding in my head #i feel ashamed #But there also traumatic and I was all alone when they happened #I cannot get them out of my head

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bee-in-a-box · 2 years

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Hollywood Stargirl (2022) dir. Julia Hart

#Hollywood Stargirl #Stargirl #Tyrel Jackson Williams #gif #film gif #I had to gif this because I saw this scene and i was like #':o omg it looks like leo looking out over mission creek'#my lab rats brain rot at it's finest folks #in other news this was my first time making a gif without a gif making website #and you GUYS #ITS SO HARD TO MAKE GIFS I WAS DYING #okay wait fun fact. Tyrel is playing a character named 'terrell' in this movie HOW FUNNY IS THAT

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abushelandablog · 2 years

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Current mood

#becoming elizabeth #thomas seymour #they really gave me the blorbo of my dreams and did that #also oh man the vilification of mental illness #anyways at least im free of the show now #and can write fix it #and make edits #im sorry but show and real thomas could not be more different imo #i would kill real thomas myself #show thomas i have never related to a character so hard and god it hurts #it just fucking hurts #i think ive seen this film before #and i hate its ending w a burning unrestrained passion

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rafesaddiction · 7 months

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It's not cheating when he's your best friend – Rafe Cameron x Reader

See here for part 2

Summary: You and your best friend Rafe want to watch some movies together, but your jealous boyfriend keeps calling you and makes you cry. Rafe takes care of you.

Concept: best friends, one bed

Warnings: mdni! – smut, fingering, sex, p in v, cheating (reader cheats on boyfriend), jealousy, hints at toxic relationship, name calling (reader is called slut), protective!rafe, but also kinda mean!rafe

Word count: 3.9k

“Now what has the dick done this time?”

“His name is Nick and you know that,” you punched your best friend against his chest, causing him to mouth an “ouch!” and rub the spot you had hit, pretending to be hurt, though you knew even if you'd tried, you could not actually hurt him. He was so much stronger than you. And hitting him with your fist, you just felt his hard muscles and actually hurt your own hand a little.

“Whatever. He's a dick for sure,” Rafe shrugged, reached over you to grab the popcorn. His arm brushed your chest, just hardly touching your shirt, and weirdly it made you shiver.

You frowned at Rafe who had already turned his face towards the TV screen again. You were sitting next to him on the floor in front of his bed. Sure it wasn't as comfortable as if you had been sitting on the bed, but it was kind of your thing. Yours and Rafe's. When you were kids you used to do that all the time, sit as close to the TV screen as possible, because “it was like going to the movies”, the screen seemed so much bigger. Now the screen was actually huge, it still felt bigger sitting on the floor and looking up. You kind of felt like kids again, even though you were both adults now. It was a feeling of nostalgia, something you hadn't known you had missed that much.

It had been a while since you had done this, just a movie night with your best friend since childhood. Though your college wasn't that far away from the island, you had hardly seen Rafe in the last couple of months. And you'd missed this, hanging out with your best friend. Watching a movie marathon – Rafe had picked tonight's movies: all four John Wick films. And even though you had rolled your eyes when Rafe told you, you had to admit the movies were actually fun to watch. And you enjoyed yourself, eating popcorn, sitting next to each other, chatting or just watching in silence when a scene got extremely exciting.

You enjoyed yourself more than you had in a while. And you were so glad that you had agreed to spending time with Rafe before you would have to drive back to college the next day.

Well, you had enjoyed yourself, until your phone just wouldn't keep quiet. You had it on silent, but you could see the screen blinking. And you couldn't ignore it, because it might be important.

It was your boyfriend who had been texting you. And you hated to leave him on read, so you replied. But he didn't stop. You told him – again – you would call him later, you were watching movies with your best friend. His answer wasn't what you had hoped for.

You were just typing back when Rafe asked you what your boyfriend had done.

You really didn't want to talk about it, you wanted to relax, not think about your boyfriend or college or the next day when you would have to return, not think about how much you had missed just being yourself in the company of your best friend.

But your phone kept ringing. Your boyfriend was now calling you. You sighed.

You saw Rafe glancing at you sideways.

You should just put your phone away, and ignore it. But you were already too upset to enjoy the movie.

So you got up.

“I gotta take this,” you told Rafe, pointing at your phone, and you didn't even wait for his reply, but went to the adjoining bathroom and closed the door behind you.

You took a deep breath before answering the phone.

“Hi babe, I—” But your boyfriend didn't let you finish. He started talking right away, though it wasn't actually talking, he was yelling at you. He was furious that you had ignored him. You tried to explain, but he wouldn't listen.

“Why haven't you told me who you are meeting?”

“I didn't think it was such a big deal. Rafe's my best friend, you know that. I've known him since forever…”

Your boyfriend went to high school with you, so he knew who Rafe Cameron was. And he had never gotten along with him. Which was okay, because you only started dating at college. And that was when you found out that he hated your best friend. But since you hardly ever saw Rafe, he was never really a topic in your relationship. Until now.

“Don't think I'm stupid, y/n. He's not just a friend. He's Rafe Cameron.”

“But he is my friend!” You had tried to keep quiet, but your emotions were in turmoil. You didn't know how it had happened, but you were almost feeling angry.

“A friend who wants to fuck you. But that's what you want, huh? You just wanna be one of his dumb sluts? He's using you!”

Tears filled your eyes and you couldn't hold them back at his harsh words.

“That's not true,” your voice sounded weak and you sobbed.

He wouldn't listen. He just accused you of these ridiculous things, calling you names, and then he just hung up. You tried to call him back, but the call went straight to voice mail.

Your mind was racing, your heart was beating so fast, you felt it would explode in your chest. Tears were running down your cheeks, but you didn't even care to wipe them from your face when you left the bathroom to return to Rafe's bedroom.

He was still sitting on the floor in front of the bed. The movie was paused, you noticed from the silence in the room, and it kind of touched you that he had been so considerate to pause the movie, so you wouldn't miss a scene.

He looked up at you, but you tried to avoid his gaze as you walked closer.

“I need to go,” you said, hardly audibly.

“What?” Rafe frowned at you. “Dicky calls and you come running?”

For a moment, you wondered if he was hurt. After all, you had promised to spend time with him, watch a John Wick marathon. And you hadn't seen him for so long.

“I can't do this now,” you sniffled and shook your head. You couldn't deal with your best friend's hurt feelings too now, even though you felt bad. But you needed to leave now, you needed to make things right with your boyfriend.

You reached down to pick up your bag that was lying on the floor next to Rafe, when he suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you down. You let out a surprised gasp as you fell right onto his lap, where he caught you, where he held you.

You struggled and tried to get up.

“Let me go, asshole,” you punched his shoulder, but Rafe only held you closer in both his arms.

“What now? I'm the asshole, but he makes you cry?”

Rafe grabbed your jaw, making you look at him when you tried to turn your face away.

“Let me go,” you said, blinking tears away.

“Only when you tell me what's going on. What has he done to you?”

You tried to shake your head, struggling to get up, but he was stronger, so much stronger, and the way he held you, held you like he would never let go off you, you became overwhelmed by your emotions, no longer able to get your act together, instead of pushing away, you now clung to your best friend. You buried your face at the crook of his neck, and he held you. Tears were soaking his shirt and he caressed your hair. You were shaking and trembling and sobbing, and Rafe pulled you closer.

This side of him wasn't new to you, but no one else knew him like this, caring, protecting. And you had only seen him like this on few occasions. And it was like your body reacted to his. Though your feelings were still in turmoil, your shaking had stopped, your crying became quieter. Your hands were still clinging to the fabric of his shirt.

He was quiet and you could just feel his calm breathing, when you got quieter yourself after some time. He did not say anything, did not urge you. And you felt so comfortable. So safe. And you realized that you hadn't felt like this in months. You hadn't felt like this since you left.

You were only sobbing quietly after a while and moved your head back, to gaze at your best friend.

He looked at you, and on his lips was a little smile, as if he was looking at something precious.

You suddenly became very aware of his gaze.

“Don’t look at me. I look like a mess,” you cast your eyes down.

“Hot mess,” he said softly and you felt your cheeks flushing.

You tried to punch his chest, but he caught your fist in his hand, wrapping it around it, holding it. This time, you didn't try to struggle and pull it away, you felt this warmth from the closeness, not just surrounding your hand. You looked up from his big hand holding yours to his face, finding his eyes still on you.

“You're fucking beautiful and if he doesn't make you feel that way, he doesn't deserve you.”

An incredible heat was rushing to your face and you knew you were blushing crimson.

“You only say that because you’re my best friend.”

“I shouldn't say that because I am your best friend…”

Your lips opened at his words, but instead of speaking you only breathed in. And you could feel his breath on your face, on your lips. You closed your mouth and unconsciously your tongue touched your lips, as if trying to feel something there.

His blue eyes looked at you, so intensely, you could almost feel them on you.

His fingers moved and he was caressing your hand still in his. It was such a light movement, such a delicate touch, but it sent waves of electricity through your body. This tingling sensation made you restless and your body wriggled in his arms, making you well aware of the fact that you were sitting in his lap. You inhaled sharply.

“I should go,” you mumbled and tried to get up.

Rafe held you tighter, his hand around your fist pressed against is chest. His other arm around your back.

“Rafe, let me go,” you urged.

“Only when you tell me what he's done to you.”

“Nothing.”

You shook your head, but Rafe suddenly gripped your jaws again, and this time so hard, it hurt a little. He looked at you, his eyes narrowed, a frown on his forehead and his voice was so stern, so commanding, it made you shiver.

“What did he say to you? Tell me now.”

You looked down with your eyes but somehow you couldn't refuse his command.

“He called me a dumb slut and said you just wanted to use me.”

There was silence, a cold, icy silence. You watched his face.

His brows furrowed, his nostrils flared, his jaws clenched.

“I'm gonna kill him.”

You saw his eyes darken, his handsome features grew tense. And even though you were sure that he didn't mean what he said, you felt a shiver running down your spine, because he kind of looked as if he meant it.

He was about to get up, and you were slipping from his lap in that motion. But you clung to him.

“No, Rafe, don't!”

And even though you were weaker than him, your hands pressed on his broad shoulders and you somehow managed to push him down, so he remained seated and you found yourself straddling his lap now.

His chest was rising and falling, as if from exhaustion. His hands found your hips and you felt you were panting too. Suddenly feeling so hot and restless.

“I'm gonna go,” you said, but you didn't get up.

“I can't let you drive like this. You’re a bad driver anyway, and you'll surely crash into some tree or something when you drive in this state.”

You frowned at his words.

“But I need to get back to college in the morning.”

You felt his hands grip your hips firmer, even though you didn't try to move.

“You can just stay the night and drive in the morning after you've rested.”

It wouldn't be the first night you spent at your best friend's. Though it had been a while.

“Rose is redecorating the guest room – again. You can't sleep in there. But you can sleep in my bed, I'll sleep on the floor.”

“But –”

“No buts.”

And that and the stern look on his face shut you up.

You weren't in the mood to continue watching the movie marathon and it was late anyway, so you decided to go to sleep. Rafe gave you one of his t-shirts to wear for the night, and you went into the bathroom to change and wash your face. It was a warm night, so you only wore the t-shirt over your panties, it was way too big for you, but it was extremely comfortable.

When you returned to the bedroom, you found Rafe putting a blanket on the floor next to the bed, making some make-shift bed. He was just wearing boxer briefs, and even though the light was dim, you could see his well-defined body clearly. You'd seen him like this before, of course. Like when you had been at the beach or swimming in the pool. Yet somehow, seeing him in his underwear felt different, more intimate.

You stood there, hands clutching the hem of the oversized t-shirt at your thighs. And you looked at him when he straightened up and turned towards you.

You felt his eyes travelling over your body and you quickly started moving towards the bed.

“What are you doing there?”

Rafe tilted his head. You pointed at the floor.

“You don't have to sleep on the floor. Your bed is big enough for the two of us. This is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, maybe I don't want to get hit when you're tossing and turning in your sleep?”

“I did that once! When I was eight!”

“Once was enough. And it really hurt when you punched my ribs in your sleep. So, no thank you. I'll take the floor.”

Rafe took a pillow from the bed and was about to set it on the floor when you grabbed his arm, to get that pillow back.

“You're stupid. This is stupid!”

You frowned at him, pulled at his arm, to get the pillow, and in your struggling with him, he must have lost balance, because you suddenly found yourself on your back on the bed and Rafe was lying on top of you. That pillow still in his hand, your hand around his wrist, with his arm and yours above your head on the bed.

You looked up at him, your face just an inch away from his. You could hardly see his features, but you felt the proximity, felt it so intensely. Felt that heat that was radiating from his body, felt it crawling over your skin. You felt the weight of his body on yours. And your breathing got harder.

You felt him shift, just a bit, on top of you, as if trying not to crush you and you inhaled and his scent filled your lungs.

You felt a light touch on your cheek. The fingertips of his free hand caressed your face.

“I'll sleep in the bed with you, if you promise me not to cry over that douchebag anymore,” his voice low, as he spoke those words, moving his lips so close hovering over yours. His eyes held your gaze. You nodded softly. And he got up and you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding in.

You kept lying on your back, just for some seconds, unable to move, still feeling his fingertips on your cheek, his body's weight pressing you down, feeling dizzy all of a sudden.

But then the bed tilted and you looked to the side, seeing that Rafe was getting into the bed, and you moved to make room for him.

You lay on your side, facing him as he pulled the blanket over you. His face once again close to yours, just for some seconds.

“Night, y/n.”

“Good night, Rafe.”

He turned on his back and switched off the lights. You turned to the other side and closed your eyes, focused on his breathing. You felt your own heart beating so rapidly at first, but after some time, you got calmer and were able to relax.

You must have fallen asleep, because when you woke up, you felt Rafe's body close behind yours, his arm loosely wrapped around you. You smelled his dark scent so intensely, felt his heat getting under your shirt. You felt his breath at the back of your head and a light shiver was running down your spine.

“Rafe?” You softly whispered his name, but he must have been fast asleep. He didn't answer, didn't move.

Carefully you placed your hand on his, your fingertips feeling along his long fingers.

He didn't move. His breathing still so calm.

His chest was pressing against your back and you could feel his regular heartbeat. It felt so familiar. You felt so safe.

And yet you couldn't stay still.

You bit your lips and moved, just a bit, arching your back, moving your butt back, pressing it against his crotch.

His breathing remained calm, telling you, he was still asleep, still unaware of what you were doing.

And you moved your butt just a little bit more and you felt him, felt him so prominently, you gasped in surprise. That tingling you felt turned into something hotter and you felt your core pulsing all of a sudden. You were breathing through your opened mouth as you felt this heat rushing through your body.

But Rafe was still breathing calmly, he was still asleep.

You felt him stir behind you, felt how hard he was, poking against your ass.

His palm was on your lower stomach. You felt it move under your hand. His calm breathing so close to your ear.

His hand moved down, moved over the fabric of the t-shirt you were wearing, and the pressure made you gasp and push back a little more.

You let go off his hand, but grasped the sheets. You tried to calm your breathing, but you were panting as you felt his fingers move under your shirt, felt his warm touch on your burning skin.

You couldn't see anything but you pressed your eyes shut nonetheless as his fingers slipped into your panties. They touched your heat, touched your most sensitive parts.

You let out a small whimper and your back arched further.

You listened, but he was so calm, so still, as if he was still asleep, and only his fingers were moving. And they moved between your legs. His fingers gently parting your folds.

You pressed your mouth shut, but you were sure that embarrassingly whining sound could be heard in the darkness of the room.

His fingertip rubbed your pearl and your body reacted, tensing up as you felt this incredible hot need literally throbbing.

You felt his breath so close to your ear and it sent a different kind of shiver through your body.

One finger slipped inside you, and you clenched around it hard. But he pushed deeper and you gasped. And you didn't know how but you were so wet, it made it easy for him to add another finger, though you pressed your legs tightly together.

For a moment, his digits just remained there, inside you, not moving. So very still like the rest of his body.

Then you felt his hard cock pressing against your ass, the length between your cheeks. And as if following some instinct, you rocked your hips, rubbed against him, creating more friction, creating more heat that made you shiver.

His fingers started moving inside you, pushing deeper, curling, and finding a spot that made you outright moan, and unable to suppress that sound.

His thumb pressed hard on your pearl, teasing you and sending hot bolts of pure need through your body. And your body was on heat, there was no other way to describe it. Every cell of your body was aching for his touch now. And he touched you, so good, so intensely, so determined.

You were moaning and whimpering as his fingers opened you up, made you spread your legs, urging him to go deeper, pushing against his thrusts, and pressing against his hardness.

You felt your climax building up quickly as his fingers pushed harder, moved deeper and more ruthlessly inside you, taking you.

You felt his hot lips on your neck as you pushed your head back, your body convulsing. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, but you weren't sure if you were trying to stop him – or if you even could.

His thumb rubbing your most sensitive pearl, making you clamp your walls around his fingers, you couldn't have stopped it, it was almost as if he was forcing that orgasm into you and you gave in, gave in willingly and with everything you had, everything you were, letting that wave of pure pleasure roll over you. Moaning shamelessly, your body trembling as his fingers fucked you through an overwhelming climax.

You lay there, panting, sweat covering your body, and you were still feeling dizzy from the aftermath of that amazing orgasm, when you felt a shiver of cold. He lifted the blanket off of you. And before you could ask why, you felt his hand on your thigh and he lifted up your leg. And before you could wonder what he was up to, you felt his fingers push your soaking wet panties to the side. And before you could really grasp what was going on, you felt his hard cock push inside you from behind.

You cried out as you were stretched by his thickness.

His hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries, as he pushed deeper, pushed his whole length into you. You felt like he was splitting you in two, he was so big, pushing so hard, but at the same time this was all you wanted, all your body was craving for.

Your body shook from his hard thrusts, and he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close, making you feel his rapid heartbeat, making you feel him, so intensely, you forgot where you ended and where he began. You felt as if you were melting into him as he took you with long hard thrusts, took you as if you were only his.

And when you felt his hot cum spilling inside you, your body convulsed so hard around him, making him gasp into your ear and you came again, and he was fucking you through another high, this time not as fierce, but even more intense as you felt this connection with him, something you had never felt before.

You were still panting and your body was trembling as he rolled you around and took you in his arms. His lips kissing your face, tasting your sweat, tasting your tears.

“You're one of my sluts now.”

You froze as you heard his dark whisper.

“What?” You moved your head back to look at him though it was too dark to make out his features.

“I said, go back to sleep now,” he said, softly. And kissed your forehead, before cradling you in his strong arms. Your head resting against his shoulder, as he held you. Held you close.

a/n: Thank you for reading. This was probably much sweeter than what I usually write. I hope you enjoyed it. All feedback is very much appreciated.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #smut fic #outer banks fanfiction #rafe x y/n #rafe obx #rafe fic

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vivwritesfics · 7 months

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Sweat, Baby, Sweat - MV1

Singapore is hot, incredibly hot. So, what do you do when you sweat through your shirt? You borrow your simp of a teammates shirt.

Max Verstappen x RB Driver!Reader

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Singapore was Y/Ns favourite track. It was taxing, but it was her favourite. High adrenaline and incredible heat. Anything could happen out there on the track.

If anywhere was going to end Red Bulls reign of dominance, it was Singapore. Y/N L/N and Max Verstappen had worked together, teammates in harmony, to keep the winning streak going.

On the rare instance Max wasn't on the podium, Y/N was in his place. More often than not they shared the podium, spraying the champagne with the biggest grins on their faces.

Only twice that year Y/N had gone out in Q2, not making it to Q3. When that happened, she couldn't face Christian, couldn't look at Max. Nobody was a bigger critic of Y/N than Y/N herself.

Singapore was hot, hot, hot.

As Max and Y/N did those little press videos (for the life of me I can't remember what they're called SOMEONE HELP PLS) Y/N was sweating. Several times while they filmed, she was pulling her shirt away from her neck, trying to get at least a little bit of air.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. She had long since taken off her Red Bull hat, too hot for that extra fabric on her head.

The press video was hard to get through. Y/N had gotten through at least three bottles of water before they finally finished. While they filmed, Max kept looking at her, frown on his face. Clearly, he was concerned.

Actually, all of the Red Bull team was concerned, but none more than him.

As soon as they'd finished filming, Y/N ran off to the bathroom. She did her business, splashed some water on her face and smelt the inside of her shirt.

It wasn't pleasant. The Red Bull shirt was such dark colours, no wonder Y/N was having trouble. She'd have to change before she and Max got on with the next round of press.

Y/N rushed off away from the press and the cameras. She ran by a concerned Max, who tried to grab her by the arm, and past the Red Bull team. "I'll be back in ten minutes," she said to Christian as she ran past.

Y/N made her way back to her hotel room. It wasn't too far away from the track, and she had almost all of her friends (aka, the other drivers) on the same floor as her.

When Y/N first started in F1, driving for Toro Rosso, there was a mixed response from fans. At that point, the fans were mostly older men and their sons. Their reactions were a mix of sexualising her and slut shaming her. Most had fears that she'd distract the rest of the grid by sleeping with them all before every race.

But the F1 Fans had grown used to her. And they loved her. They loved her as much as they loved Carlos and Pierre and Magnussen. They loved her as much as they loved every other driver on the grid.

Once in her hotel room, Y/N got changed into another Red Bull shirt. She didn't have many left, certainly not enough for the next three days of the grand prix (if things were keeping up the way they were).

After getting changed Y/N quickly checked her phone. Messages from Max and Christian, her manager reminding her of the next bit of press she had to do and her parents wishing her luck on the qualifying.

By the time Y/N got down to complete the press interview, she was already sweating. Anxiety bubbled up in side of her. What if she smelt bad? What if the cameras picked up on her pit stains?

Before the interview started, Max nudged her with his elbow. "Is everything okay?" He asked her, keeping his eyes trained forward.

Max had always been considerate when it came to Y/N. He knew what she had been through at the start of her career, the things she had to deal with from the fans. He was more aware than anybody that it was still going on. If Y/N was caught having fun with any of the drivers, they'd ridicule her online.

"Yeah, Max, I'm fine."

Y/N made it through the day in that shirt. She went to bed that night in only her underwear to try and keep cool.

By breakfast that morning she had already begun to sweat. Not through her shirt, not yet. She made it to lunch before she had to get changed.

Before the qualifying, Max pulled her to one side. Out of the prying eyes of any camera, Max grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. Once again, she wasn't wearing her hat, making it easier for him.

"Something is going on with you. You keep disappearing," he said to her, not loosening his grip. And he wouldn't until she told him what was going on.

Y/N shook her head. "I'm okay, Max, really."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Just tell me!"

Letting out a sigh, Y/N looked up at him and pulled his hat from his head. She placed it on her own and smiled. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

"It's just you."

Max's flirting had been really subtle since Y/N became his teammate. He hadn't wanted to toe the line, didn't want to receive the repercussions of trying to date his teammate.

Qualifying was horrible. Y/N swore in all the years before it had never been this bad. The heat was distracting and she was out in Q2, taken out by Lance fucking Stroll.

Y/N was fuming. There was only one person who could comfort her. And he was currently driving around the circuit with the fastest lap.

Y/N's post qualifying interview was short. She answered every question with one word answers, her face like a slapped ass. As soon as the interview was over she was off to her drivers room to sulk.

She was only granted two minutes to herself before there was a knock on the door. Christian didn't wait for an answer before he walked in. "How are you doing?" He asked her, leaning against the door.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. It was far too hot to think.

"Well, whatever it is, have it sorted by tomorrow," he continued. "And, come and celebrate with your teammate."

The next day went much the same. Y/N sweated through breakfast and, by the time she got to lunch, she was having to change her shirt.

But there was one problem. She didn't have any shirts she hadn't already sweated through.

With nothing else to do, Y/N tucked her hands into her armpits and walked towards her boss. "Christian," she muttered almost timidly. It wasn't like Y/N to be timid. There wasn't room for it, with her being a woman in the sport.

She took him into her drivers room and made an embarrassing confession. She couldn't look Christian in the face as she told him how much she had been struggling in the heat and that she had no more shirts left.

Christian pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Well, I know for a fact Max has another shirt. I'll go and grab it for you," he said, sparing her the embarrassment of telling somebody else.

When Christian returned with a shirt for Y/N she was quick to change. She put on some more deodorant and pulled Max's shirt over her head. Lifting the collar to her nose she breathed in. Max. It smelled of Max. It smelled amazing.

When she walked out of her drivers room, there were stares. She wasn't much aware of the stares she was getting, her eyes searching for one person and one person only.

Max didn't know what to do when he saw her. The shirt was slightly too big, hanging down to her thighs. It was oversized on her, the short sleeves almost at her elbows. Wow. That was all Max could think. Just wow.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He watched as she lifted the collar of the shirt to her nose and smelt it yet again. His heart fluttered. Wow. Just wow.

Y/N turned around and spotted Max hidden behind a team of engineers. She wove her way around the engineers, approaching him. "Thanks for the shirt," she said with a smile.

Max didn't know how to respond. He kept staring at herm unable to take his eyes off of her. It was struggle before she was wearing his clothes, but now Max didn't stand a chance.

When Y/N took his hat from her head, he finally looked at her face. "It suits you," he managed to say. She was irresistible. It was almost too much for him.

No, it was too much for him.

"Fuck it," Max whispered under his breath. He placed his hands on her hip, catching Y/N off guard. Max wasted in time in leaning in. He pressed is lips to hers in a somewhat awkward kiss.

But it didn't take Y/N long to get with the programme. She pulled the hat from her head and wrapped her arms around his neck. Closing her eyes she deepened things, leaning into him.

When she finally pulled away, Max couldn't stop staring at her.

"I've wanted to do that since we became teammates," he whispered, taking the hat from Y/N and placing it on his head.

"What stopped you?"

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