Doll Eyes (Michael Jackson)

Doll Eyes (Michael Jackson)

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My name is Lucy and my entire childhood was a dramatic violent mess. I was the only child my parents had, and I was surprised that they had a child considering their toxic relationship. My mother was clinically insane and my father was an abusive alcoholic that pulled my mother into his black hole. At the age of 6 my father died in an automobile accident- he was drunk, and killed himself and another person by driving head on into traffic. My mother was clinically insane and put into a government funded home for people with disabilities. My grandmother, on my mom's side, took guardianship of me to keep me out of the foster child program and keep me away from my father's crazy family. My grandmother didn't work and so we never had a lot of money to spare. I went without a lot of necessities in life, but overall I was a happy child. I never complained about material things because I didn't want my grandmother to feel inadequate- she did her best to take care of me, and it wasn't her fault that we couldn't afford things I wanted. In freshman year of high school I fell in love with photography. I had the greatest photography teacher, Mr. Brem. He was such a kind person and a great mentor. He bought me my first camera when he realized that I had a natural ability to capture light. I took photography each year of high school and won enough cash to buy a few more cameras from photography contests in the state. I was even offered a full ride scholarship to the University of California Santa Barbara so of course I took it. September 6, 2005 was the beginning of my first semester at UCSB, but it was also the first day of the rest of my life. I would meet a man that would forever be a part of my life. Disclaimer: This story will feature graphic depictions of sex so if you're into that you have to follow me in order to read the chapters Wattpad deems salacious.
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michaeljackson
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⚠️ Mature Completed Story 18+ ✓ | This fic is set in 2030 Max Verstappen never expected to spend retirement surrounded by glitter glue, pancake disasters, and a five-year-old who thinks "overtaking" applies to bedtime. But here he is, an eight-time world champion turned grumpy dad haunting the karting tracks of his youth, wearing a hoodie of nostalgia and a frown that says please don't ask for an autograph. He's not here for closure. He's here because his daughter likes speed and because standing on the trackside hurts a little less than staying home alone with his regrets. Charles Leclerc didn't dream of coaching kindergarteners with oversized helmets and sugar highs. But a crash stole his career, and this karting track the fumes, the flags, the occasional crying parent is all he's got left. He smiles like it doesn't ache and teaches like he doesn't miss the rush. It's not the future he imagined, but it's something. They weren't best friends. Rivals? Sure. Occasional podium eye contact? Absolutely. But nothing ever happened, at least, not when it mattered. Now they're thirty-three, washed in nostalgia and worn down by everything unsaid. But when Max's hoodie ends up on Charles, when Lilly calls him her "other dad," when burnt toast becomes breakfast and stolen glances linger too long, maybe it's not about racing anymore. Maybe it's about healing. About family. About bad coffee and slow mornings and one last shot at something they never let themselves want. Maybe love doesn't roar at 200mph. Maybe, this time, it tiptoes in through the kitchen door. ~~~ I grew up on F1 but don't expect realism. Expect mess. Bad decisions. Vibes over plot. I have no idea how this happened. One second, I'm vibing. Next, I'm writing a Max/Charles fic with sad dad energy, karting trauma, and chaotic Carlando lurking in the background like gremlins.

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