#Electric car advantages

[car9723-t]

How to make some of traditional car enthusiasts annoyed and enraged.

I love you so much and no offense for your good intentions, Molly, but it's one of those when you were gone so overboard.

P.S. I thought this SUV resembles Cadillac Escalade when I saw this.

[chargezone13]

[kifu]

Well, I've reached the point of stress of extreme nausea, like that's going to help anything. Just too many things failing catastrophically at once.

[internationalelectriccar]

Electric Vehicle Blog

Electric Vehicle Blog

The blog on www.internationalelectriccar.com appears to focus on trends and developments in the electric vehicle market. Here are some key points from the analysis:

More than 10 million electric cars were on the world's roads in 2020, with battery electric models driving the expansion.

The global electric car stock hit the 10 million mark in 2020, a 43% increase over 2019, and representing a 1% stock share.

Battery electric vehicles (BEVs) accounted for two-thirds of new electric car registrations and two-thirds of the stock in 2020.

China, with 4.5 million electric cars, has the largest fleet, though in 2020 Europe had the largest annual increase to reach 3.2 million.

About 3 million new electric cars were registered in 2020.

Read more about electric vehicle blog.

This blog seems to be an authoritative voice in the field of electric vehicles, aiming to revolutionize the future of transportation². It provides valuable insights into the rapidly growing electric vehicle market. Please note that the information is based on the EV market at 2021.

Embracing the Future: The Rise of Electric Vehicles

As we steer towards a sustainable future, the electric vehicle (EV) revolution is accelerating at an unprecedented pace. With over 10 million electric cars on the world's roads in 2020, the shift from traditional internal combustion engines to electric powertrains is more evident than ever.

The Global Electric Car Market

The global electric car market witnessed a significant expansion in 2020, with a 43% increase over the previous year. Battery Electric Vehicles (BEVs), which accounted for two-thirds of new electric car registrations, are driving this growth.

China, home to 4.5 million electric cars, boasts the largest fleet. However, Europe saw the most substantial annual increase in 2020, reaching 3.2 million electric cars.

The Advantages of Electric Cars

Electric cars offer numerous benefits over their gasoline counterparts. They are not only environmentally friendly but also cost-effective in the long run. Electric cars produce zero tailpipe emissions, contributing to cleaner air and a healthier environment.

Moreover, the energy efficiency of electric cars is substantially higher. They convert over 77% of the electrical energy from the grid to power at the wheels, while conventional gasoline vehicles only convert about 12%–30% of the energy stored in gasoline.

The Future of Electric Cars

The future of transportation is undoubtedly electric. With advancements in battery technology and an increase in the availability of EV charging stations, electric cars are becoming more accessible to everyone.

At the same time, governments worldwide are offering various incentives to promote the adoption of electric cars. These incentives, coupled with the decreasing prices of electric cars, are making these vehicles an attractive option for many consumers.

Conclusion

The electric vehicle revolution is here, and it's transforming the way we think about transportation. As we continue to innovate and push the boundaries of what's possible, one thing is clear - the future of transportation is electric.

[harishkhatri99]

The Benefits of Buying Electric Vehicles

If you really want to strengthen the environment, driving an electric vehicle is next-level buying. There are a lot of Advantages of Electric Vehicles, some of them are as follows;

1. Low Maintenance Cost: It is excellent as these are fuel-friendly, so they have an electric mechanism. Thus have a simple operation.

2. Low Noise Pollution: In the list of many Benefits of Buying an Electric Car, this one is productive. Yes, the extra engine noise is lower than fueling vehicles, creating less noise pollution.

3. Carbon-Free Drives: Lower carbon emissions are crucial to sustaining the environment. Thus making drives smoother and pollution free.

4. Easy Charging Efficiency: E-vehicles are simpler to ride and charge at the home, office, and public charging stations. A complete charge will give you comfortable rides for 5-6 hours. Fast charging is also an excellent efficiency.

5. Simple Drivibility: Making drives simplers and easy is assured on e-vehicles. Electric cars and 2-wheelers are not designed with gear mechanisms; thus easy to control the speed.

6. Tax Benefits: EVs are expensive, but their financial incentives are lower or budget-friendly. Their road cost and registration are lower as compared with ICE vehicles. The benefit of INR 1.50 Lakh is also offered on electric cars from the state government of India.

Verdict: There are innumerable Advantages of Electric Vehicles but a few drawbacks too. So if you plan to purchase an e-vehicle in 2023, check some of the latest ones on Droom. Explore for emission-free vehicles to sustain health and the environment simultaneously.

[foldingfittedsheets]

So yesterday we frantically researched cars and electric vehicle credits that could help up buy one. I picked a dealership specifically based on a rebate for EVs. We called to make sure they had the car we wanted to see and a young man said they did and told us to ask for him when we arrived.

When my beloved hung up the phone I gleefully whispered, “He sounds weak. Perfect.” I wasn’t being serious but it made them laugh.

We arrived and waited for him to bring the car around and when he popped up he was a young man clearly new to the sales industry. He talked at high speed but struggled to actually clarify benefits. He did not ask a single question about us.

In the test drive we specifically mentioned the EV credit and he agreeably talked about how he wished he’d waited a few months to get his dad a car since the credit came out after. We commiserated and I marveled at the silences he left. I’ve been in sales so long and I cannot fathom not asking a customer questions about their lives.

When we got inside he gave a quote. It wasn’t terrible. I had leveraged in the need for the dealership to pay off the amount left on my beloved’s dead car, but I still shook my head and said we needed lower and pulled out my phone to shown a slightly worse Leaf I’d found in terms of mileage but still several thousand cheaper.

He went away. We waited. My beloved was concerned but I reassured them that whatever he came back with I’d accept. He came back with almost 3K lower as he’d finally added the EV credit. The one we called to ask about. The one we mentioned in the car and I’d hinted at twice.

I smiled and said I’d pay cash but I still can’t believe that kid. To not include the rebate we’d specifically come in for meant he’d had to drop his price even further which worked out great for us but was a wild misstep. I hadn’t been serious when I’d called him weak but this is the first car sale I went away not feeling taken advantage of.

[steddieas-shegoes]

At ten years old, Eddie’s mama gets a raise at work just in time for Christmas. This is the same year Wayne works enough to set aside almost $200 for Eddie’s Christmas presents.

Eddie doesn’t know this, and he’s a kid who knows better than to expect more than a few things in his stocking and one or two “bigger gifts” -usually books or tapes- so it’s a surprise when his stocking is overflowing and there’s a huge box under the tree Christmas morning.

Even more surprising is that it’s labeled from Santa, and Eddie hasn’t believed in Santa for nearly three years despite everyone in his classes still believing. He bounces on his feet while he waits for Wayne to get his coffee, for his mama to finish making their special hot chocolate.

The year he gets his first guitar is also the year he finds out his mama can sing like a rock star.

It’s the year he finds out Wayne used to play bluegrass at a bar back home and probably could’ve made it big if he was willing to leave his sister.

It’s the year Eddie finds out he can play by ear and uses it to his advantage to learn all his favorite songs as soon as he figures out the chords.

And for years, he is quick to pull out his acoustic to learn something new, even when he manages to buy his electric with money from helping fix cars at the shop where his uncle’s friend works.

After he saves Hawkins, and his hands stop shaking enough for him to play, he asks Steve to bring his acoustic to the hospital so he can entertain himself. Steve shares a look with Wayne, then his mama.

“It, uh, didn’t survive…everything.”

Nothing broke his heart quite like hearing that.

He pretends it’s okay though, doesn’t want his mama and Wayne to feel worse than they already did about everything.

He tables his emotions until he’s alone that night, shortly after dinner when everyone goes home to get some rest before the next day of volunteering, and cleaning, and visiting.

He’s woken up in the middle of the night by the door opening, and even though the person coming in is trying to be quiet, the door creaks from the building settling funny during the “earthquake.”

“Steve?”

Steve turns and even in the dark, Eddie can see his blush.

He’s holding something.

Something big and guitar shaped.

“What have you done?”

Steve walks over to him and gently sets the guitar case in his lap.

Eddie opens it and sees a gently used acoustic with Eddie’s name now engraved on the side.

“Steve.”

“You can have nice things. You should have nice things. We don’t have many options right now, but at least you won’t get rusty.”

Eddie cried.

Steve held him.

And after Steve wiped his tears away and kissed his forehead—which was something they’d be talking about as soon as Eddie could focus on something other than the guitar in his lap— he played slower songs, songs that even Steve could recognize, until a nurse realized Steve was here past visiting hours and kicked him out.

When his mama saw it the next morning propped by his bed, she smiled knowingly.

“I see the boy followed through.”

“What?”

“He asked me all kinds of questions about guitars and what your old one looked like and if a used one would be okay. Don’t know how he found one so quick.”

“He’s pretty determined when he sets his mind to something.”

“I think he’s set his mind on you, baby.”

Eddie thought maybe she was right.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Timeless Desire

Summary: You had always been Mercedes fan since you were young and it didn't change when you became Max's best friend. Based on British Grand Prix.

Song: Me and Your Mama - Childish Gambino

Author’s note: I can't write short stories to save my life. I hope you enjoy this long journey which may take a full day to read. Please like, reblog and share this! <33

Word count: 12.6k

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You had always been a Mercedes fan since you were young, and it hadn't changed when you became Max Verstappen's best friend. The British Grand Prix had always been a special occasion for you, being a Brit yourself.

This time, however, you decided to wear your signed Mercedes shirt to the paddock, attracting a lot of attention.

As you walked into the paddock, you could feel the eyes of the public on you, a mix of curiosity and admiration. The atmosphere was electric, with fans and team members bustling around, preparing for the big race.

You caught a few whispers and nods of recognition, some even pointing at your shirt with approving smiles. It felt surreal to be in the midst of such excitement, wearing the symbol of your childhood dreams.

Max spotted you from across the paddock and made his way over, a grin spreading across his face as he saw the shirt. "Are you ready for me to win again?" he said with a wink, clapping you on the back.

"Not in a million years Maxie," You replied, nudging your shoulders to his.

Being here, surrounded by the roar of the engines and the energy of the fans, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of belonging.

You followed Max to the Red Bull garage, your Mercedes shirt still drawing a few curious stares from the Red Bull staff. Most of them were used to seeing you around, though, and had long accepted your unwavering loyalty to Mercedes.

The mechanics were busy fine-tuning Max's car, their focus undeterred by your presence. As you stood there, you could feel the palpable tension and anticipation in the air, a reminder of how high the stakes were for everyone involved.

Max chatted with his engineers, occasionally glancing back at you with a playful smirk. You knew he thrived on the friendly rivalry between the two of you. Despite the different team colors, the camaraderie and mutual respect you shared with Max and the Red Bull crew were undeniable.

It was moments like these that made you appreciate the sport even more, knowing that beneath the fierce competition, there was a deep bond that transcended team allegiances.

As Max was engrossed in a conversation with his team, you decided to take advantage of the moment and slip away for a while.

You couldn't miss out on the chance to connect with other like-minded individuals. The other wives of girlfriends of the drivers welcomed you into their circle.

"So what's the story behind the Mercedes shirt?" Rebecca asked curiously.

"Oh I'm just a big fan of Mercedes, especially Lewis Hamilton," you explained with a smile.

"While dating Max Verstappen? That must be hard to do," Lily Muni commented.

You blushed, taken aback by her comment. "Oh, no, Max and I are just friends," you quickly clarified, feeling a bit flustered.

Rebecca and Lily exchanged glances, clearly still intrigued, but they let the subject drop as the conversation shifted to other topics.

In your thoughts, you couldn't help but replay Lily's comment. The idea of dating Max had never crossed your mind in a serious way; your bond was built on years of shared experiences and a mutual love for racing.

Yet, the notion lingered, making you question if perhaps there was more beneath the surface of your friendship.

You had such strong feelings for Max, but you were terrified of rejection.

He's the 3-time world champion, a true legend of the sport. How could someone like you ever have a chance with someone as incredible as him? He's so talented, so successful, and you were just an ordinary person. The thought of opening your heart to him only to be turned away is enough to fill you with dread.

Part of you wishes you could just ignore these feelings, but they're impossible to deny. Every time you see him race, your heart skips a beat.

He's so captivating, so mesmerizing. You know deep down that you two could be amazing together, but the risk of rejection is too much to bear. You’d have to be content admiring him from afar, as much as that pains you. He's simply out of your league.

You had to rush back to the Red Bull garage to give Max at least some of your good luck while the rest was left for the Mercedes drivers.

You gave him a quick hug and told him, "Go easy on them will you?"

Max smirked and said, "Never in a million years."

You watched as Max got into his race car and drove off to the starting line. The atmosphere was electric, with the roar of the engines and the cheers of the crowd filling the air.

You then made your way over to the area where the celebrities were gathered, eager to catch a glimpse of the famous faces. As you mingled with the crowd, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement.

Whenever George, Lando or Hamilton were out on the track, you joined the throngs of fans in cheering them on, your voice adding to the cacophony of support that echoed through the circuit.

Jenson Button approached me, eager to know whom I was supporting at the British Grand Prix. "Excuse me, Y/N L/N. Can I have a moment of your time for a small interview?" he asked politely.

“Sure, I don’t mind!” You yelled over to the cars that had passed by where you were with speed for overtaking each other.

"I noticed you seem quite invested in the race today. Who are you rooting for?" He asked.

You turned to face the legendary Formula One driver, a smile spreading across your face. "Well, Jenson, I've always been a fan of Lewis Hamilton. The way he navigates those tight corners and pushes the limits of his car is truly inspiring. But I have to say, I'm also keeping a close eye on George Russell. He's been putting in some remarkable performances lately, and I wouldn't be surprised to see him on the podium today."

Jenson nodded thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming with interest. "Ah, yes, George did get podium in Austria. It's been great to see him come into his own this season. And of course, Lewis is always a force to be reckoned with on his home turf."

He paused, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Tell me, who do you think has the best chance of taking the chequered flag on Sunday?"

You turned around, revealing the word "Lewis Hamilton" written on your shirt in bold, striking letters. "I guess my shirt says it all," you laughed.

"Lewis has an incredible track record here at Silverstone, and I believe his experience and skill will give him the edge this weekend. But honestly, in racing, anything can happen, and that's what makes it so thrilling."

Jenson grinned, clearly amused by your enthusiasm. "Well, it looks like you're all set for a fantastic race day. Enjoy the rest of the Grand Prix, and may the best driver win!"

With that, he gave you a friendly nod and moved on to the next eager fan. You turned back to the track, heart pounding with anticipation, ready to cheer on your favorites as they battled it out on one of the most iconic circuits in the world.

Not long after Jenson moved on, you spotted Max Verstappen exiting his car after the first practice session. He looked focused but relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips as he made his way toward the garage.

Seizing the opportunity, you approached him. "Max, you were incredible out there! How are you feeling about the car's performance today?" you asked.

Max turned to you, his eyes bright with determination. "Thanks! The car felt really good, especially through the high-speed corners. We've made a few tweaks since the last race, and it seems to be paying off," he said with a nod.

"But there's still a lot of work to do, and we need to make sure everything's perfect for qualifying tomorrow." His gaze shifted back to the track, the competitive fire clearly evident.

"That's great to hear," you replied, excitement evident in your voice. "I'm sure you and the team will nail it. Best of luck for the qualifying session—I'll be rooting for you!"

Max chuckled, his grin widening. "I know you're actually rooting for Lewis, so don't try and convince me," he said, playfully pointing at your shirt before walking back to his team.

You chuckled, caught off guard by his playful comment, but you couldn't help but admire his confidence. As he disappeared into the garage, you turned your attention back to the track, eager for the next glimpse of racing action.

Realizing this was the perfect moment to engage with your followers, you quickly pulled out your phone and started a video.

"Hey everyone, I'm here at Silverstone, and it's absolutely electric! I just had an amazing chat with Max Verstappen, who seems really confident about the car's performance today."

With the camera still rolling, you began to walk around the paddock, capturing the vibrant atmosphere. "Look at this crowd! The energy here is just unbelievable. Stay tuned, because I'll be sharing more exclusive content, interviews, and updates throughout the Grand Prix. Make sure to follow and hit that notification bell so you don't miss a thing!"

You ended the video with a smile, feeling thrilled to share this unforgettable experience with your followers.

The paddock buzzed with activity, mechanics tirelessly working on cars while the air was filled with the sound of revving engines and excited chatter. Colorful team banners and flags fluttered in the breeze, adding to the vibrant spectacle.

The aroma of fuel and tire rubber mingled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee from nearby stalls, creating an intoxicating blend that awakens all your senses.

You decided to wander around the paddock until the second practice session started, eager to soak in every bit of the atmosphere. As you strolled past the various team garages, you couldn't help but marvel at the precision and dedication of the crew members.

Each mechanic moved with purpose, their focus unwavering as they fine-tuned the cars for optimal performance. The occasional cheer erupted from fans who managed to catch a glimpse of their favorite drivers, adding to the palpable excitement in the air.

Pausing at a merchandise stall, you took a moment to browse through the array of team hats, shirts, and memorabilia. The vendor’s enthusiastic pitch and the sight of fans proudly donning their favorite team's colors made you smile.

With a new Mercedes cap in hand, you continued your exploration, eventually finding a spot near the track with a clear view of the action.

Settling in, you glanced at your watch, counting down the minutes until the second practice session began, anticipation building with every passing second. . . . .

The second practice session had come to an exhilarating end, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as the leaderboard displayed Lando Norris’s name at the top. Seeing a Brit in first place put a broad smile on your face, a sentiment echoed by the cheers of the crowd around you.

The young driver's impressive performance had not only captured the hearts of the local fans but also ignited a sense of optimism for the upcoming race.

As the teams began to pack up their equipment and the drivers headed back to their motorhomes, you reflected on the day's events. The energy, the passion, and the sheer love for the sport were palpable, making you even more excited for what lay ahead.

You knew Max Verstappen wasn’t thrilled with his results today; the frustration was evident in his body language as he walked past the garage. Deciding it was best to give him some space, you chose to head back to your apartment on your own.

The cool evening breeze accompanied you as you made your way through the bustling streets, the excitement of the new day still lingering in the air.

Back at the apartment, you kicked off your shoes and sank into the couch, the day’s events replaying in your mind. The roar of the engines, the fervor of the crowd, and the sheer thrill of the race had left an indelible mark on you.

Your mind drifted back to the moment you saw Max Verstappen walk past the garage. His usually composed demeanor was replaced with visible frustration; sweat clung to his brow and his hair was tousled, a stark contrast to his usual neat appearance.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for him. Racing was as much a mental game as it was a physical one, and today had clearly taken its toll on him.

As you sank deeper into the couch, you recalled the intensity in Max's eyes, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the team's expectations on his shoulders. It wasn't just about winning; it was about pride, about proving himself in the face of fierce competition.

His messy hair and worn-out look were a testament to the effort he poured into every lap.

You found yourself silently rooting for him, hoping that tomorrow would bring him better results and the sense of accomplishment he so clearly desired.

Just as you were deep in thought about Max, your phone buzzed, pulling you back to the present. Glancing at the screen, you saw his name flash across it.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say, but quickly answered.

"Hey," you said softly, trying to gauge his mood.

"Hey," he replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "I just... I needed to talk to someone. It's been a rough day."

You could hear the weariness in his voice, the frustration still lingering. "Of course, Max," you responded, your tone gentle and supportive. "Today was tough, but you're an incredible driver. You've got what it takes to bounce back."

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, "Thanks. I just needed to hear that. Tomorrow’s a new day, right?"

You smiled, "Absolutely. Get some rest, and let's see you take on the track with that unstoppable spirit of yours."

"Thanks, I'll come pick you up in the morning at the same time as today, is that alright?" Max asked, his voice sounding a bit lighter now.

"That sounds perfect," you replied, relieved to hear a hint of optimism returning to his tone. "Get some rest, Max. Tomorrow's another chance to shine."

After ending the call, you set your phone down and took a deep breath, feeling a mix of concern and hope for Max.

You decided to make yourself a cup of tea, hoping the warmth would help settle your thoughts. As you sipped the soothing drink, you couldn't help but replay the conversation in your mind.

As you sipped the soothing drink, you couldn't help but replay the conversation in your mind. The warmth in Max's voice was something rare, a side of him that few got to witness.

It stirred something deep within you, a flutter of butterflies in your stomach at the thought. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, tonight he had reached out to you, revealing a vulnerability that made you feel closer to him than ever before.

You let the warmth of the tea seep into you, calming your nerves while your thoughts raced. The connection you felt with Max tonight was undeniable, and it left you wondering about the deeper layers of his character.

Tomorrow, when he picked you up, you hoped to see that same spark of warmth in his eyes, a sign that he was ready to face the challenges ahead with renewed vigor.

Until then, you allowed yourself to bask in the glow of this newfound closeness, feeling a sense of hope and anticipation for the days to come. . . .

The next day arrived faster than you had anticipated, and before you knew it, the alarm was blaring in your ear. Groggy and disoriented, you realized with a start that you had overslept.

Panic set in as you hurriedly got ready, grabbing another Lewis Hamilton shirt and a Mercedes hat for some much-needed shade. You barely had time to brush your hair before Max would be at your doorstep.

You quickly brushed your teeth, splashed some water on your face, and dashed out the door, your heart pounding not just from the hurry but from the anticipation of seeing him again.

Rushing down the stairs, you hoped that your tardiness wouldn't dampen Max’s newly found optimism. As you stepped outside, you saw his car approaching, and a wave of relief washed over you.

The moment you climbed into the car, Max greeted you with a smile that was both reassuring and genuine. "Ready for today?" he asked, and you couldn’t help but feel that, despite the rocky start, everything was going to be just fine.

"Absolutely," you replied with a grin, trying to mask the flutter of nerves still lingering from your rushed morning. "Let's make it a great day."

Max's smile widened, and you felt a surge of confidence as the car pulled away from the curb, setting the course for whatever lay ahead.

The both of you arrived at the paddock at the usual time, the familiar hum of activity already filling the air. Mechanics were bustling about, engineers deep in conversation, and the distinctive scent of fuel and rubber permeated the space.

You used your paddock pass to enter the gate, feeling a sense of belonging as you navigated through the organized chaos. Max walked beside you, his presence steady and comforting.

As you approached the garage, you couldn’t help but notice the way the team members greeted Max with a newfound respect. It was as if the previous night's vulnerability had transformed him in their eyes as well.

He exchanged quick words with the crew, his tone confident and determined. You caught his eye, and he flashed you a quick, reassuring smile.

Since there was still time before the third practice race, you and Max decided to walk around the paddock. The bustling atmosphere of the Formula One paddock was electric, with teams of engineers and mechanics scurrying about, fine-tuning their cars for the upcoming sessions.

As you and Max strolled through the maze of garages, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. The sights and sounds of the sport you both loved so dearly were all around you, and you knew that the real action was just moments away.

The two of you exchanged excited glances, each of you eager to see what the day had in store.

Then in the distance, you saw Lewis Hamilton getting interviewed by Jenson Button and other journalists. Hamilton's outfit exuded a sense of style and sophistication that perfectly complemented his status as a Formula One superstar.

Dressed in a tailored charcoal grey suit, Hamilton looked sharp and modern. The slim-fit jacket accentuated his athletic build, while the crisp white shirt and slim-cut trousers gave him a polished, contemporary look. Finishing off the ensemble were a pair of sleek black leather dress shoes, lending an air of elegance to his overall appearance.

Hamilton's fashion choices demonstrated his keen eye for detail and his ability to effortlessly blend high performance sportswear with high-end formal attire, solidifying his reputation as one of the most stylish personalities in the world of motorsports.

Jenson and Lewis paused their conversation as their eyes fell upon you and Max. Their faces lit up with genuine smiles, and Jenson waved enthusiastically, beckoning you over. The camera crew shifted slightly to accommodate the new dynamic, capturing the camaraderie between the drivers.

"Hey, you two!" Jenson called out. "Come join us for a bit!" The invitation was casual yet filled with warmth, a testament to the close-knit community within the paddock.

"Are you coming?" you whispered to Max and he shook his head, understanding completely.

It would be too early in the morning for him to be hammered with questions with the 7th World Champion.

You made your way over, exchanging nods and greetings with the crew along the way.

As you joined the small circle, Lewis extended his arms for a friendly hug. The warmth of his embrace was a welcome respite from the chill of the evening air, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging in that moment.

His firm yet gentle grip conveyed a genuine affection that put you at ease, reminding you of the strong bond you shared.

The hug lasted just long enough to feel comforting, without becoming overbearing. As you pulled away, you caught a glimpse of the genuine smile that spread across Lewis' face, his eyes twinkling with genuine delight at your arrival.

"Good to see you again Y/N," he said, his voice carrying the same charm as his attire.

"Same to you Lewis," you replied with a grin on your face after meeting your idol.

You two have met before and every time Max would be with you but he would let you speak for the both of you.

"You know, we've seen some viral rumors going around about the two of you," Jenson stated, his tone playful yet curious. "Your faces look very similar," he added, prompting nods of agreement from the surrounding interviewers.

You chuckled, glancing over at Lewis, who seemed equally amused. "Yeah, I've heard that one before," Lewis said with a grin. "People always think we're related or something."

"I would be lucky to have you as my dad," you replied, your tone light-hearted but sincere. The surrounding crew chuckled, and Lewis laughed warmly, patting you on the back.

"Well, if I had a kid as cool as you, I'd be the lucky one," he responded, his eyes sparkling with genuine affection.

"You know, I was in high school when you won your first world championship," you said, reminiscing about the early days of his career. Lewis raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.

Lewis chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Oh, come on now, Y/N. That makes me feel ancient," he replied, still grinning.

Jenson joined in, adding, "Well, there's no denying the resemblance. Maybe you two should do a DNA test just for fun." The suggestion elicited more laughter, and you shrugged, playing along.

"Who knows, maybe we’ll find out we’re long-lost family," you joked, feeling the camaraderie and light-heartedness of the moment.

Jenson leaned in, clearly enjoying the banter. "So, Y/N, any plans to follow in our footsteps and join the racing world?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged with a smile, "Who knows? Maybe one day. For now, I'm just enjoying the ride and learning from the best."

Lewis smiled warmly before patting your shoulder. "That's the spirit, Y/N. Keep learning and who knows where you'll end up," he encouraged.

The crew continued to chat and laugh, the atmosphere buzzing with energy and camaraderie.

Jenson looked back at Max, who was still waiting patiently. "Let's not keep Max Verstappen waiting any longer and let you go," he said with a grin. "But before you leave, who are you rooting for to win on Sunday?"

You grinned and turned to the camera, proudly showing off your shirt which had Lewis Hamilton's name and number emblazoned on it.

"Of course, for my favorite driver, Lewis Hamilton," you declared with enthusiasm. The crew erupted in cheers and applause, clearly appreciating your loyalty.

Lewis laughed heartily, shaking his head. "Well, it's good to know I've got such a dedicated fan in you, Y/N," he said, his eyes twinkling with gratitude. "Just make sure you keep cheering loudly; I might need that extra bit of support on Sunday."

You nodded eagerly, feeling the warmth of the moment as Jenson wrapped up the interview.

When he unexpectedly reached out and signed your Mercedes cap and shirt, you were utterly starstruck and overcome with a profound sense of awe.

The surreal experience of having the coveted autograph of your revered idol permanently emblazoned upon your personal item is a feeling that will undoubtedly be etched into your memory, to be cherished and fondly recalled for years to come.

This tangible connection to your admired public figure has elevated the cap and the shirt from a mere article of clothing into a prized possession, imbued with deep personal significance that will serve as a lasting reminder of this incredible, once-in-a-lifetime moment.

"Thank you guys for making me meet my dad," you joked as you handed your microphone to a staff member. The crew burst into laughter, and even Lewis couldn't help but chuckle at your playful remark.

"Good luck, Dad!" you said as you walked away from the group, grinning from ear to ear. The crew's laughter continued to echo behind you, and Lewis gave a final wave, still smiling at your endearing humor.

"Thanks, kid," Lewis said back, still smiling warmly. You felt a rush of pride as you walked away, knowing that this incredible moment would stay with you forever. The excitement of the day left you feeling like you were walking on air, already anticipating the thrilling race ahead.

Max then joined you halfway as you two walked together behind the group. "That was quite the interaction," he remarked, glancing at the freshly signed cap in your hands. "I think you just made everyone in the crew a little jealous."

You chuckled, still riding the high of the unforgettable experience. "It feels like a dream. I mean, meeting Lewis Hamilton and getting his autograph? It's surreal," you replied, your voice bubbling with excitement.

Max raised an eyebrow playfully, “Would you be this excited if I gave you a signed Red Bull hat?”

You laughed, glancing at him, “Of course, Max! But you know, nothing beats meeting your hero.”

Max smirked, shaking his head with a mock sigh, “Guess I’ll have to step up my game then.”

"Well, Max, you'll have to start by winning a few more championships," you teased, nudging him lightly. He laughed, playfully rolling his eyes.

"But seriously, Max, you're my second hero too," you admitted with a grin, making him laugh and shake his head.

As you both entered the Red Bull garage, the familiar hum of activity and the scent of burning rubber welcomed you, amplifying your anticipation for the race ahead.

"These are the only times I've actually seen Max laugh this week," Jenson commented, overhearing the lighthearted exchange.

Lewis smiled warmly at the remark, clearly pleased to see such camaraderie. "Well, it looks like she's got the magic touch on Max," Lewis said, giving you a nod of approval.

Jenson chuckled, nodding in agreement. "It's true, she's got a way of bringing out the best in all of us," he remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Maybe we should keep her around for good luck," he added, glancing at Lewis with a grin. . . .

The results from the third practice session of the British Grand Prix left you utterly astonished. The top three positions were dominated by British drivers: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, and George Russell.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as the names flashed up on the leaderboard, and you could feel the electricity in the air. The excitement was palpable, and the entire paddock buzzed with a mix of admiration and determination.

As you and Alexandra absorbed the results, you couldn't help but feel a surge of national pride mixed with the competitive spirit that coursed through the paddock.

"Three Brits at the top—who would've thought?" Alex mused, glancing at the screen.

"It's going to be one heck of a race," you replied, a grin spreading across your face.

The anticipation for Sunday's race grew stronger, knowing that this unexpected turn of events had set the stage for an epic showdown on the Silverstone circuit.

As the final practice session concluded, you made your way back to the garage, where Max was already debriefing with his engineers. His expression was a mix of frustration and determination, clearly unsatisfied with his fourth-place finish.

You could sense the tension in the air as he ran a hand through his hair, listening intently to the feedback. "Fourth place again," he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenched.

You approached him carefully, offering a supportive smile. "Hey, Max, don't be too hard on yourself. The race is still ahead, and anything can happen," you reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up, his eyes softening slightly. "I know, but it's just frustrating," he admitted, exhaling deeply.

"We'll figure it out," you replied confidently. "You've got the skills and the team behind you—we'll get there."

Max’s shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, the tension in his posture easing. Without warning, he pulled you into a big, tight hug, a gesture of gratitude and camaraderie.

"Thanks," he whispered into your shoulder, his voice barely audible over the buzz of the garage. "I needed that."

You patted his back reassuringly, feeling the weight of his determination and the pressure he was under.

As he released you, he took a step back, his expression a bit lighter. "Alright, let me get to work before I get yelled at by the team," he joked, a renewed spark in his eyes.

You nodded, feeling a surge of optimism before letting him go. As Max turned back to his engineers, you couldn't help but admire his resilience and dedication. The garage was a hive of activity, the mechanics and engineers working tirelessly to fine-tune every detail for the upcoming race.

You knew that this was just the beginning, and that every effort counted towards the ultimate goal. The camaraderie and mutual support within the team were palpable, and it gave you confidence that they could overcome any obstacles.

Walking over to the pit wall, you glanced at the data screens, absorbing the information from the final practice session. The numbers told a story of fierce competition and the relentless pursuit of perfection.

As you watched the team dive into their preparations, you felt a sense of unity and purpose that transcended individual ambitions. The Silverstone circuit awaited, and with the collective strength and determination of the team, you believed they were ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

With the support of his team and the undeniable talent that Max possessed, you knew that the upcoming race would be anything but predictable.

Knowing that Max would likely pull an all-nighter to ensure everything was perfect, you decided to embrace a rare moment of relaxation and joined the girls for a much-needed night out.

The energy of the city was a stark contrast to the focused intensity of the garage, and you relished the chance to unwind and recharge. Laughter and conversation flowed freely as you and the girls caught up over dinner, sharing stories and enjoying each other's company.

"Lily, you should have seen Max today," you said, taking a sip of your drink. "He was so stressed but still managed to joke around. It's like he's made of steel."

Alexandra laughed, "You and Max, honestly, it's like watching a married couple. The way you two support each other is incredible."

Rebecca chimed in, "You both have that unspoken understanding. It's rare to see such a strong bond. Do you ever think about what it would be like if you two were actually together?"

You smiled, shaking your head. "Max and I are just really good friends. We've been through so much together, and I wouldn't trade that for anything."

As the evening progressed, Lily leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So, how are things going with Max? Seriously, the way you two finish each other's sentences is uncanny," she teased, nudging Alexandra.

Alexandra and Rebecca chuckled in agreement. "Yeah, it's like you guys have this secret language," Rebecca added, taking a sip of her wine.

You laughed, feeling a warm blush creep up your cheeks. "I think that just happens when you're good friends with someone," you protested lightly. "But honestly, I think it's just because we've been through so much together with the team. It's hard not to get close when you're in the thick of it all."

The girls exchanged knowing glances, their smiles widening.

As the night progressed, you felt the stress and tension of the past weeks melt away. Dancing under the colorful lights of the club, you allowed yourself to be fully present in the moment, soaking in the joy and camaraderie of your friends.

Though your mind occasionally drifted back to the team and the upcoming race, you knew that moments like these were essential for maintaining balance and perspective.

The music in the club was a pulsating mix of deep bass and energetic beats, creating an infectious rhythm that made it impossible to stay still.

The DJ seamlessly blended popular hits with classic dance anthems, keeping the energy high and the dance floor packed. Every now and then, a familiar tune would spark cheers from the crowd, adding to the electric atmosphere of the night.

You tried to forget about tomorrow by dancing your heart out, losing yourself in the music and the laughter of your friends.

Each beat seemed to sync with your heartbeat, pushing away the lingering worries and stress about the upcoming race. The colored lights flashed around you, casting a vibrant glow on the faces of those you loved most.

Alexandra pulled you into a carefree spin, her laughter ringing out like a melody of its own, while Rebecca's enthusiastic dance moves encouraged everyone around her to join in the fun.

As the night wore on, you felt a sense of liberation, a temporary escape from the pressures that awaited you in the morning. The music, the lights, and the camaraderie wrapped around you like a comforting embrace.

You danced until your feet ached and your lungs burned from breathless laughter. In those precious hours, you allowed yourself to be free, knowing that the memories you were creating would fortify you for the challenges ahead. . . .

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As you left the bathroom, a guy approached you with a confident smirk. "Hey there, having a good time?" he asked, stepping into your path.

You quickly pulled out your phone, pretending to check messages, but he wasn't deterred. "Come on, don't be like that," he persisted, reaching out and snatching the phone from your hands.

"Hey, give that back!" you exclaimed, your voice rising above the music. His grin widened as he held your phone just out of reach.

"Relax, I just wanted to talk," he said, but you could see the mischief in his eyes.

"Look, I'm just here to enjoy the night with my friends," you said firmly, trying to keep your cool. "Can you please give me my phone back?"

He chuckled and shook his head, still holding the phone out of reach. "Only if you promise to dance with me for one song," he countered, his eyes sparkling with playful determination.

"Look, I'm not interested," you replied firmly, trying to keep your cool despite the growing frustration. "Just give me my phone back."

"Why so serious?" he teased, leaning in closer. "I promise, I'm not a bad guy."

Suddenly, a fist landed against the man's face, and he staggered backward, releasing your phone. You looked over to see Max standing in front of you, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. Max was wearing a black leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt, his jeans slightly worn and his boots scuffed from countless adventures.

"Yeah, I'm fine now," you replied, clutching your phone tightly. The guy groaned, rubbing his jaw, but quickly decided to make himself scarce. "Thanks, Max. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't shown up."

Max shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Don't mention it. No one messes with you." He glanced around, the lively atmosphere of the party resuming as if nothing had happened.

"Come on, let's get back to the others. I think Alexandra is about to challenge everyone to a dance-off."

Max had always been the one to look out for you, ever since you first met. His protective nature wasn't just about physical safety; it was about ensuring you felt secure and valued in every situation. Moments like these reminded you why you valued his friendship so deeply.

You smiled, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you, before following Max over to where the girls were gathered. Alexandra was already hyping everyone up, her infectious energy drawing a crowd. The music thumped louder as she announced the start of the dance-off, and you couldn't help but get caught up in the excitement.

"Hey, you're just in time!" Alexandra called out, her voice filled with excitement. "We're about to start the dance-off, and I need my best dancer by my side." You laughed, feeling the tension from earlier melt away.

Max stayed close by your side, his reassuring presence a constant comfort. As the dance-off began, you found yourself laughing and cheering on your friends, the earlier tension quickly fading away.

You start to move your body to the rhythm of the music, swaying your hips and tapping your feet. The beat pulses through you, and you let it guide your movements, flowing from one step to the next with a natural fluidity.

As the tempo picks up, you pick up the pace, your limbs moving with increasing energy and precision. You twirl and spin, your arms outstretched, feeling the music coursing through every inch of your being.

The world around you fades away as you become lost in the dance, your only focus being the rhythm that compels you to keep moving.

The crowd's cheers grew louder, a wave of encouragement that fueled your every move. You could hear your friends shouting your name, their voices blending with the music and creating an intoxicating mix of sound and energy.

Every clap, every cheer, every shout of encouragement pushed you to dance harder, to lose yourself even more in the rhythm. It was a feeling of pure exhilaration, a moment where nothing else mattered but the beat and the joy of movement.

As you executed a particularly challenging spin, the crowd erupted in applause. You caught a glimpse of Max, his eyes filled with pride and approval, and it spurred you on even further.

Your feet barely touched the ground as you performed intricate steps, each one met with more cheers and applause.

Alexandra joined in, her movements mirroring yours in a dazzling display of synchronicity. Together, you owned the dance floor, the world outside the party forgotten as you reveled in the collective energy and sheer delight of the dance-off.

"Alright, I think it's time for us to go," Max muttered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You nodded, your body still buzzing from the adrenaline of the dance-off.

You said goodbye to the girls, their faces glowing with the same exhilaration that still coursed through your veins. They gave you knowing smiles, the kind that spoke of shared secrets and unforgettable moments.

"You were amazing out there," one of them said, pulling you into a quick hug. The others nodded in agreement, their eyes twinkling with pride and admiration.

It was a night that would be etched into your memories, a night where you felt truly alive and connected.

As you made your way through the crowd, you could feel the lingering energy of the night, the music and laughter still echoing in your ears.

"Did you have fun?" Max asked, his hand gently squeezing yours.

"Absolutely," you replied with a smile. "I needed this. Thanks for being here with me."

"Always," he said, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "Now let's get you home."

As you and Max made your way out of the venue, the cool night air hit your skin, a refreshing contrast to the heat and energy inside.

He led you to where his car was parked, a few blocks away from the lively venue. The city's lights shimmered around you, creating a magical ambiance that seemed to extend the evening's enchantment.

Max opened the passenger door for you, his gentlemanly gesture making you smile. As you settled into the seat, you took a deep breath, the cool night air filling your lungs and calming your racing heart.

Max slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, the soft hum of the car a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. The streets were quieter now, the hustle and bustle of the night giving way to a peaceful stillness.

As he drove, you glanced over at him, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights.

A sense of gratitude washed over you, not just for the incredible night but for the unwavering presence of someone who understood you so deeply.

The road stretched ahead, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of contentment and peace.

The cityscape gradually transitioned from the vibrant glow of downtown to the quieter, tree-lined neighborhoods.

Streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement, and the occasional passerby strolled under the canopy of autumn leaves. The serene streets, dotted with quaint shops and cafes, seemed to whisper stories of their own, adding to the magic of the night.

You didn’t hear when the car stopped or when Max got out of his seat to come to your side, but you felt a touch on your shoulder, gentle and reassuring.

"Hey," he said softly, "we're here." His voice pulled you out of your reverie, and you looked up to see him holding your door open, a kind smile on his face.

"Sorry, I must have zoned out," you said, stepping out of the car and into the crisp night air. Max chuckled, "No worries. It looks like tonight wore you out in the best way possible."

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you. "It did. Thanks again, Max, for everything." He squeezed your hand gently, "Anytime. Let's get you inside and cozy."

As you walked towards your front door, the porch light casting a welcoming glow, you realized just how much nights like these meant to you.

You unlocked the door and Max and you walked inside. The house was quiet and peaceful, a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of the day. As you closed the door behind the both of you, you felt the tension in your shoulders start to melt away.

Max immediately made himself at home, bounding over to his favorite spot on the couch and curling up with a contented sigh. You couldn't help but smile as you watched him settle in, grateful for the simple joy of being back in your comfortable space.

You followed him and sat right beside him, cuddling him. Max laughs, "How much did you have to drink?"

"Not much, just tired now," you mumbled.

Your body felt heavy, and you couldn't resist the urge to snuggle up against Max. The warmth of his presence was comforting, and you felt a sense of safety and contentment in his company.

"Hey, you know, my friends have been asking me a lot lately about...well, about us. They keep wondering if we're, you know, actually just friends or if there's something more going on," you said, feeling a slight blush creep onto your cheeks.

He looked at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Your friends, huh? What do you tell them?" he asked, his voice soft and curious.

You averted your gaze, suddenly finding the ground very interesting. "I...I tell them that we're just friends. But, I don't know, sometimes I wonder if they're right. I mean, are we really just friends?" you admitted, your heart racing.

He was silent for a moment, and you could feel the tension building between you two. "Well, I...I guess that's up to us to decide, isn't it?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't help but glance at him, your gaze involuntarily drawn to his captivating presence. His striking appearance and commanding aura made it nearly impossible to look away, even for a moment.

Your eyes met briefly, locking in a charged, fleeting connection that sent a flutter of shyness rippling through your chest.

Despite your best efforts to avert your eyes, you found yourself repeatedly drawn back to him, mesmerized by his alluring and magnetic persona.

"I notice you looking," he replied, his voice soft and teasing.

"I... I didn't mean to stare, I just..." Your words trailed off as you struggled to find the right thing to say.

He smiled reassuringly. "It's alright, I don't mind." There was a warmth in his tone that put you at ease. "I'm glad you can look at me."

You felt your cheeks grow warm, and you ducked your head, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. "I'm sorry, I... I'm not usually this shy," you stammered.

"No need to apologize," he said gently. "I find your shyness quite endearing. Your drunk side is definitely cuter,”

You felt your cheeks flush even deeper at his compliment, a mix of embarrassment and delight swirling within you. You managed a small, shy smile, peeking up at him through your lashes.

"Thanks, Max," you murmured, your heart fluttering at his words.

As you stood there, the silence between you two thickening, you heard Max mutter something under his breath. Though you couldn't catch everything, you distinctly heard the words, "you'll be the death of me."

You chose not to comment on it, unsure if you had heard correctly or if your mind was playing tricks on you. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken emotions, making your pulse quicken.

A moment later, Max took a deep breath and stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You have no idea what you do to me," he said, his voice low and filled with intensity. The proximity of his presence made your heart race even faster, each beat echoing in your ears.

You could feel the weight of his words settling over you, making it clear that you were no longer just friends standing on the edge of something much deeper.

Deciding to be brave for once, you took a deep breath and met his gaze head-on. "Max, I... I think there's something more here than just friendship. Maybe we should talk about it, figure out what this really is," you said, your voice trembling slightly but steady enough to convey your sincerity.

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his, and the simple gesture sent a wave of warmth through you. "I've been wanting to talk about it too," he admitted, his eyes never leaving yours. "But you're too drunk to talk about it."

Max then stood up and said, "And it's past both our bedtime," he gave his hand out, "Do you need help?" You looked at his extended hand, hesitating for just a moment before placing your hand in his.

The warmth of his touch was comforting, and you nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Yeah, I think I do," you replied softly, a small smile playing on your lips.

As he helped you to your feet, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and nervousness about what the future held for the two of you. "We'll talk about this tomorrow, when we're both clear-headed," he promised, his eyes filled with a sincerity that made your heart flutter.

You nodded in agreement, feeling grateful for the moment of clarity.

"Goodnight, Max," you whispered.

"Goodnight," he replied, his voice gentle as he squeezed your hand one last time before letting go.

As you made your way to your room, your mind buzzed with a whirlwind of emotions. You felt a mix of excitement and anxiety, the weight of unspoken feelings finally acknowledged.

Lying in bed, you couldn't help but replay the night's events, wondering what tomorrow would bring for you and Max. . . . .

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The next morning, you woke up with a slight throbbing in your head, the kind that comes from having one too many drinks the night before. Groaning, you rubbed your temples and tried to piece together the fragments of last night.

Bits and pieces floated back to you—laughter, the warmth of Max's hand, and something about a conversation that felt important. But the details were fuzzy, like trying to remember a dream that was slipping away with each passing second.

As you stumbled into the kitchen for a glass of water, you found yourself wondering about the look in Max's eyes and the words he had said. The clarity from last night was now a blur, leaving you with a nagging sense that something significant had occurred.

You couldn't shake the feeling that today might bring some answers, and perhaps a chance to finally address the feelings that had been simmering just below the surface.

You decided to dress casually, slipping into another Mercedes shirt, this one adorned with a signature from Lewis Hamilton that you'd gotten a long time ago. The familiar fabric brought back memories of excitement and admiration, moments when you felt invincible.

Topping off your outfit with the same Mercedes hat from yesterday, you hoped the attire would give you a boost of confidence for whatever the day had in store.

As you made your way to the living room, you couldn't help but think about Max and the conversation from the night before. The anticipation of seeing him again made your heart race, and you hoped that today would bring some much-needed clarity.

With each step, you felt a mixture of hope and apprehension, but one thing was certain—you were ready to face whatever came next, no matter how daunting it seemed.

A gentle knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts, and your heart skipped a beat. Taking a deep breath, you walked over and opened it to find Max standing there, his familiar smile instantly putting you at ease.

"Hey," he greeted softly, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read your mind. The sight of him brought a rush of both relief and nervous energy, and you couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey, Max," you replied, stepping aside to let him in. As he entered, you both knew that the conversation from last night needed to be revisited, the unspoken feelings demanding attention.

Max glanced around your living room before turning to face you, his expression serious yet gentle. "You're a bit early today," you began, and he nodded.

"I just wanted to make sure you were good after yesterday," Max stated, concern evident in his voice. He took a cautious step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

You shook your head, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "No, it's all a bit of a blur. I remember us talking, but the details are fuzzy. What did I say, Max?"

The uncertainty gnawed at you, and you could see Max weighing his words carefully.

He took a deep breath before replying, "We talked about a lot of things—your feelings, my feelings, and everything we've been holding back. I think it's important we address it now, while it's still fresh."

You glanced at the clock on the wall and your eyes widened in realization. "Max, if we start this conversation now, we're going to be late for work," you said, biting your lip. The weight of the moment was palpable, but the practical concern loomed large.

Max followed your gaze to the clock and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I know," he admitted reluctantly, "but we can't keep pushing this off. How about we talk after the race? We can't let this hang over us any longer."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief that there was a plan in place. "Okay, after the race it is," you agreed, grabbing your keys and heading for the door.

Max smiled appreciatively, and together, you walked out, knowing that the conversation was merely postponed, not avoided.

You walked to his car, the tension between you both a silent passenger. The drive felt quick, a blur of city streets and morning light, the hum of the engine the only sound breaking the silence.

Max's hand occasionally brushed yours on the gear shift, each touch a reminder of the conversation that awaited. As the racetrack came into view, a sense of urgency replaced the earlier calm, the reality of the day ahead crashing down.

Before you could fully prepare yourself, you were swarmed by the paparazzi, their cameras flashing and questions flying. Max tightened his grip on your hand, guiding you through the chaos with a protective determination.

"Just stay close," he whispered, his voice a steady anchor in the storm. You nodded, squeezing his hand back, feeling a mix of gratitude and apprehension.

You two safely made it to the Red Bull garage, Max's annoyance palpable as he helped you regain your balance after tripping over a persistent paparazzo. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration but softened by concern.

You nodded, brushing off the embarrassment as best you could, and took a deep breath to steady yourself. The bustling activity of the garage—mechanics fine-tuning cars, engineers analyzing data—provided a temporary distraction from the looming conversation.

Max's jaw tightened as he tried to shake off the earlier chaos. "Let's focus on the race for now," you said, your eyes scanning the garage for any more paparazzi. "You'll need all your concentration if you're going to pull this off."

You gave him a reassuring smile, determined to support him through the day.

The air buzzed with anticipation and energy, but despite the noise and activity, the unresolved emotions between you two lingered, a quiet storm waiting to be addressed.

"Max, you've got this," you said, giving him a quick, encouraging nod before stepping away. He returned the nod, his eyes briefly softening before hardening with focus.

You left Max to focus on his preparations, giving him a supportive pat on the back before making your way through the crowded garage.

Miraculously, you managed to avoid the paparazzi and found Alexandra near the hospitality area, her eyes lighting up as she saw you.

"Hey, Alex," you greeted her. Your voice was a mix of relief and anticipation.

"There you are," she said with a relieved smile. "I was starting to worry they'd swallow you whole!"

"I thought so too, I don't know why they acted like that," you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I think it was because of yesterday," Alexandra commented, her expression growing serious. "The rumors about you and Max really stirred things up."

"What rumors?" you asked, your heart skipping a beat.

Alexandra sighed, glancing around to ensure no one was eavesdropping. "There's talk that you and Max are more than just friends, and it's got everyone buzzing," she explained, her eyes filled with both concern and curiosity.

"They got a glimpse of you and Max leaving the club holding hands, so they just assumed you two were dating," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your cheeks flushed as the memories of the previous night flooded back, the moment innocent but easily misconstrued. "Great, just what we needed before the big race," you muttered, running a hand through your hair.

"Is it true?" Alexandra asked, her eyes searching yours for any hint of the truth. You hesitated, the weight of the question pressing down on you. "No, well... I don't think so,"

You stammered, feeling the heat rise to your face. "We're going to talk about it after the race. There's just too much going on right now to sort it out."

Alexandra nodded slowly, her expression a mix of understanding and concern. "I can see how things could get complicated," she murmured, glancing back towards the garage where Max was still preparing.

"Just make sure you both have a clear head for the race. The last thing you need is this drama distracting you."

You sighed, grateful for her support. "Thanks, Alex. We'll figure it out one way or another," you said, giving her a small, reassuring smile. "Right now, we need to focus on the task at hand."

Alexandra nodded, her face softening with understanding. "I get it. Just make sure you two sort it out. It’s important for both of your sakes, especially with so much at stake today."

She paused, then added, "And remember, I'm here if you need to talk or just need some support. We've got your back, no matter what."

"Thanks, Alex. That means a lot," you replied, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. You stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, needing the reassurance of a friend's support in this whirlwind of confusion.

She hugged you back tightly, whispering, "You've got this," before stepping back and giving you a determined look.

As you both pulled away, you glanced around the bustling garage, the sound of engines roaring and mechanics shouting orders filling the air. "Let's get through today first," you said, trying to infuse your voice with the confidence you didn't quite feel. "After the race, I'll sit down with Max and we'll clear everything up."

Alexandra gave you a firm nod, her eyes reflecting her belief in you. "Good. And remember, whatever happens, we're a team. We'll get through this together," she said, before turning back to her duties, leaving you with a renewed sense of determination.

You walked back into the Red Bull garage, weaving through the busy crew members and the organized chaos. Spotting Max near his car, you took a deep breath and approached him.

"Hey Max," you called out, trying to mask any lingering anxiety. He looked up from his preparations, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of curiosity and concern.

"Hey," he replied, looking away from his car to glance at you. "Everything is okay?"

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just wanted to wish you good luck. Let's focus on the race and leave everything else for later."

Max's expression softened, and he gave you a reassuring nod. "Sounds like a plan. Thanks," he said, giving you a firm pat on the shoulder.

"Oh, I forgot to do something," Max said, grabbing something from the nearby table. You raised an eyebrow, unsure of what he was referring to.

Before you could ask, he reached over and took off your Mercedes hat, replacing it with a Red Bull one. "There," he said with a grin, "now you're properly dressed for the occasion."

You laughed, feeling some of the tension ease. "Thanks, Max. I guess I did need a little wardrobe adjustment," you replied, adjusting the new hat on your head. "Just remember, no matter what happens out there today, we're in this together."

Max nodded, his expression serious but supportive. "You're just saying that because you got 'adopted' by your idol," he teased, extending his hand for a firm handshake.

"Exactly! You'll have to call me Y/N Hamilton now," you smirked, joining in with the handshake.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "Never in my life will I ever call you that Y/N, you know that already."

Just then, a crew member signaled to Max that it was time to get ready for the race. Max glanced at his watch and nodded, turning back to you with a determined look. "Alright, I have to go now. But remember, we'll talk after the race, okay?" he said, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

You nodded, feeling a mix of anticipation and support. "Good luck out there, Max. Give it your all," you urged, stepping back to let him head towards his car. Max flashed you a final grin before heading off, his focus shifting entirely to the task at hand.

As you watched him walk away, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride and camaraderie. The roar of engines filled the air, signaling the start of an intense competition.

You took a deep breath, knowing that whatever the outcome, the bond you shared with Max and the team would only grow stronger.

Throughout the day, you mingled with the fans, soaking up the atmosphere and excitement. As the race began, you cheered for Hamilton, hoping for a victory for your home country.

The event kicked off with a thrilling qualifying session, where Lewis Hamilton and George Russell of Mercedes secured the top two positions, narrowly edging out the young sensation Lando Norris of McLaren. Max Verstappen qualified fourth, setting the stage for an intense battle at the front of the grid.

As the lights went out, Hamilton made a perfect start, maintaining his lead into the first corner. Norris and Verstappen engaged in a fierce fight for second place, with the Dutchman eventually managing to make a bold move and take the position.

The race was filled with intense on-track action, as the drivers pushed their cars to the limit on the iconic Silverstone circuit. Oscar and Carlos fought their way through the field, making impressive overtakes and fighting for a podium finish.

Hamilton managed to hold onto his lead, with Verstappen and Norris in close pursuit. The battle for victory came down to the final laps, with Verstappen making several attempts to pass Hamilton, but the British driver held firm, crossing the finish line to the delight of the passionate home crowd.

Lando Norris secured a well-deserved third-place finish, with Oscar and Sainz rounding out the top five.

You could feel the tension in the air as the race unfolded, every corner and straight away leaving you on the edge of your seat. When Lewis Hamilton crossed the finish line, you erupted in celebration with the rest of the fans, the atmosphere electric with joy and pride.

The victory felt like a triumph for everyone present, a testament to the dedication and skill of the entire team.

You were close by when Lewis got out of his car at the number 1 place and he jumped out to meet his parents. The emotion on his face was palpable as he embraced them, the crowd's cheers echoing in the background.

It was a moment of pure triumph and familial pride, one that you knew would be remembered for years to come.

Lewis then ran over to you and gave you the biggest hug, his joy radiating through the embrace. "We did it!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with triumph and gratitude.

You could hardly believe it, standing there in the midst of the celebration, feeling the warmth of his victory shared with you.

The crowd's cheers grew louder, a symphony of adoration for their champion, and you felt an overwhelming sense of connection to this incredible moment. As the noise of the crowd swirled around you, Lewis pulled back slightly, his eyes sparkling with unspoken emotion.

"Thank you for always believing in me kid," he said, his words sincere and heartfelt. The world seemed to fade away as you shared that instant, knowing that this victory was not just a win on the track, but a culmination of years of hard work, perseverance, and unwavering support.

"It was all you," you said, smiling through the tears that had begun to form in your eyes. Lewis shook his head, still beaming.

"No, this victory belongs to all of us," he replied, his voice steady and filled with gratitude.

Lewis then left you to go hug his team, the very people who had worked tirelessly behind the scenes to make this victory possible.

The mechanics, engineers, and strategists all gathered around him, their faces lit up with pride and relief.

Each hug and handshake was a testament to the unity and effort that had propelled them to this moment. The bond between the team members was evident, a shared understanding of the countless hours and challenges they had overcome together.

As Lewis made his way through the throng, he paused to exchange words of gratitude and congratulations with each person. The joy in the paddock was infectious, spreading like wildfire among everyone present.

The cameras flashed, capturing the raw, unfiltered emotions that painted this victorious scene. It was a reminder that while one man may stand on the podium, the triumph is always a collective achievement, built on the foundation of teamwork and mutual respect.

As you were cheering for Lewis, you didn't realize when Max got out of his car and walked over to you until he was standing in front of you, his helmet still on his head.

Startled, you looked up to see the intense gaze behind his visor, a mixture of disappointment and adrenaline in his eyes.

After he didn't move and all you could hear was his harsh breathing, you quickly helped him with taking off the helmet. As it came off, his face was a portrait of raw emotion—disappointment mingled with exhaustion, yet there was an unmistakable glint of respect in his eyes.

"You were incredible out there," you said softly, trying to bridge the gap between rival and friend. He nodded, his expression softening slightly as he took a deep breath. The tension slowly melting away from his shoulders.

He nodded before moving closer to you, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "After this, be in my room." A shiver ran down your spine, the unexpected command sending a surge of adrenaline through your veins.

You couldn't help but feel the intensity of the moment, the lines between competition and something deeper blurring in the dimming light of the paddock.

You met his gaze, searching for any hint of jest, but all you found was a seriousness that made your heart race. "Max, what are you—" you began to ask, but he silenced you with a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"Just be there," he insisted softly, his voice a mix of urgency and something else you couldn't quite place. With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

You watched the podium ceremony unfold, the cheers of the crowd and the spray of champagne creating a festive atmosphere. Yet, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake Max's words from your mind.

His voice, that hint of something unspoken, echoed in your ears, overshadowing even the triumphant smiles of the winners. As the drivers celebrated, your thoughts kept drifting back to that moment, the weight of his command lingering heavily.

Back in the team garage, the clamor of post-race activities did little to diminish your inner turmoil. You replayed the scene over and over, analyzing every detail of his expression and tone.

What could he possibly want? Why the urgency?

As the minutes ticked by, you found yourself drawn inexorably towards his room, curiosity and anticipation intertwining in a complex dance. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached the door, uncertainty mingling with a strange sense of inevitability.

As you walked, suddenly someone took your hand and pulled you into Max driver's room—it was Max. The door closed behind you with a soft click, and you found yourself standing inches from him, your breath catching in your throat.

His eyes were intense, a storm of emotions swirling within them that you couldn't quite decipher.

"I needed to talk to you alone," he said, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the chaos of your thoughts.

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his presence enveloping you. "There's something I've wanted to say for a long time," he continued, his hand still gripping yours tightly. "But I didn't know how, or if it was the right time."

You could feel the weight of his words, each one laden with unspoken meaning. The intensity of the moment was almost overwhelming, and you knew that whatever he was about to reveal would change everything.

His eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. "What is this about, Max?" you finally managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

He took a step closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing. "There's something I've been hiding, something I need to tell you before it goes any further."

His hand remained on yours, grounding you as the weight of his words settled in. You could feel the gravity of the moment, the potential for everything to change hanging in the air between you.

Max’s grip tightened slightly, as if drawing strength from your presence. "I’ve been battling with this for so long," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "and I can't keep it to myself any longer. I’ve been feeling something more than just camaraderie between us. Every race, every strategy session, every moment we've spent together... it’s become clear to me that it’s more than just professional respect or friendship."

Your heart raced, your mind spinning with the implications of his confession. "Max, are you saying...?" you trailed off, unsure if you dared to hope for what his words might mean.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours as he took another step closer, his free hand gently cupping your cheek.

"Yes," he said softly. "I’m saying that I’ve fallen for you. And I couldn’t go another day without telling you, without knowing if you might feel the same."

Your breath hitched at his confession, emotions swirling within you. "Max, I... I don't know what to say," you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest.

His gaze remained unwavering, filled with vulnerability and hope. "Just tell me how you feel," he urged gently, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

Tears welled in your eyes, a mix of relief and confusion. "I've been trying to convince myself it was just friendship," you admitted, your voice trembling. "But deep down, I've felt it too. I was just too scared to acknowledge it, afraid it would ruin everything."

Now that everything was out in the open, a sense of liberation washed over you. The weight of unspoken emotions lifted, replaced by a cautious but undeniable hope.

"But knowing you feel the same changes everything," you whispered, a tentative smile breaking through your tears.

Max's eyes lit up with a mixture of joy and relief, a broad smile spreading across his face. He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go.

"You have no idea how happy you've just made me," he murmured into your hair, his voice filled with an overwhelming sense of contentment.

He then pulled back to look at you, his eyes mostly glancing at your lips without any hesitation. The air between you crackled with a palpable intensity, a silent promise of something more.

His breath mingled with yours, creating a heady blend of anticipation and longing. "May I?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, seeking your consent with every fiber of his being.

You nodded, unable to find the words, your heart pounding in your chest. As his lips met yours, the world seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of shared emotions.

The kiss was tender yet filled with unspoken promises, a confirmation of the feelings you both had been harboring for so long. When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath.

His eyes held a depth of emotion that took your breath away, shimmering with love, relief, and an unspoken promise of a future together. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his gaze soft yet intense, as if memorizing every detail of your face.

"Love you," you whispered without thinking, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

For a moment, you worried you had said too much too soon, but the way Max's eyes softened reassured you.

"I love you too," he replied, his voice steady and sincere, as if he had been waiting to say those words for a long time.

The weight of the moment settled between you, both comforting and exhilarating.

"What happens now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Max's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt both grounding and electric.

"We take it one day at a time," he said, his smile widening. "No more hiding, no more pretending. Just us, figuring it out together."

The simplicity of his words brought a sense of calm over you, and you nodded, feeling more certain than ever that this was just the beginning of something beautiful.

"That means supporting me before Lewis," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

You chuckled, shaking your head with a mock-serious expression. "That's a bit of a stretch," you replied, your tone light and teasing. "I might need some convincing before I switch allegiances."

Max laughed, the sound rich and warm, filling the space between you. "Challenge accepted," he said, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I'll just have to work extra hard to win you over, won't I?"

"Well, you've got your work cut out for you," you replied with a smirk. "But I'm open to seeing what you've got." His eyes sparkled with determination, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement.

"Don't worry, I love a good challenge," Max replied with a confident grin.

"By the end of this, you'll be my biggest supporter, just wait and see."

i.t.y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, and 1,702,847 others.

tagged; maxverstappen1

i.t.y/n: Hey everyone! I know I've kept you in the dark for a while, but I'm excited to finally share that Max and I are together. We've been enjoying our time together and wanted to keep it just for us for a bit. To make up for the secrecy, here are some adorable photos of Max that I know you'll love.

I have to admit, he's managed to convert me into a Red Bull fan. But don't worry, Mercedes will always have a special place in my heart. Thank you all for your understanding and support. 💙

view comments below

maxverstappen1: Schatje I love you 🫶

i.t.y/n: I LOVE YOU TOO MAXIE 🥰🥰

lewishamilton: Congratulations on your relationship! I hope you both the best 😊

i.t.y/n: Thanks dad! I'll always be supporting you in secret 👍

lewishamilton: @maxverstappen you better take care of my daughter

*liked by i.t.y/n*

maxverstappen1: Yes sir

mercedesamgf1: Don't worry Y/N, we know you will always belong to us 🩵

maxverstappen1: Actually Y/N is all mine and always will be mine so respectfully f**k off

i.t.y/n: Max what did we say about bad words????

maxverstappen1: sorry schatje, @mercedesamgf1 I mean with all the respect I can have, please frick off

*liked by i.t.y/n*

user2: NOT MAX FIGHTING WITH MERCEDES ACCOUNT OVER Y/N????

user3: Y/N is actually living the dream 🥹

i.t.y/n: @maxverstappen1 I was just looking at the pictures of you that I took and you're always smiling in them

maxverstappen1: That's because I love smiling at what's mine 🫶

i.t.y/n: That's so sweet! 🥰🫶

maxverstappen1: Wanna meet me after sim practice??

*liked by i.t.y/n*

[dyaz-stories]

put your arms around me and i'm home || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

summary: In the dead of winter, you have to do a run to go get fuel for your generator. Things go wrong, but fortunately, Hyun-Su is here to save you.

word count: 3.7k

warnings & tags: canon-typical violence, gore, monsters, hyun-su and reader get injured, reader briefly thinks hyun-su is dead, monster!hyun-su makes a brief appearance, hyun-su needs a hug and he gets one!, angst, hurt/comfort, season 2 canon compliant.

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A/N: this can be read on its own, but there is another one-shot, if you're interested! for context, this takes place during season 2. reader and hyun-su know each other from high school and reader runs into hyun-su after the events of the first three episodes. reader also doesn't know that he is a monster/neohuman.

You’re not one to get caught off guard, not usually. You’ve always been cautious, measured, far-sighted. It had been an advantage back in high school, and you’re pretty sure it’s what kept you alive thus far.

Yet, in this new world that you never asked to be a part of, unforeseen complications were the norm. You could plan, and plan, and plan ahead, but here you were, freezing in your living room, because the biting cold of the lasting winter meant that you’d run out of fuel for your small generator, and everything else you used to generate electricity wasn’t functioning the way it should.

If you didn’t want to freeze to death, you had to act, and act quick.

You’d already held out a few more days than was reasonable, hoping that the weather would clear and your solar panels would be useful again, or — but you hadn’t dared to voice that thought — that Hyun-Su would come by, and you could ask for his help. He’d offered before, after all, even if he had always kept you at arm’s length whenever you’d returned the favor.

But things were dire now, and you couldn’t wait any longer, so you’re kneeling in your living-room, preparing yourself for a hazardous trip in the outside, shivering as you do. Things are dangerous enough on a good day, but the snow that’s been continuously falling only makes you dread it more. It swallows sounds, means you’ll leave tracks behind you, and you’ll consume twice as much energy just to move around.

The last thing you pack is a map, which you make sure to keep available, though you hope you won’t need it in between breaks.

You’re heading for a four-stories parking lot, where you hope you’ll find fuel in one of the cars, but that’s not the dangerous part. What’s risky is that monsters love these kinds of places, with all their nooks and crannies, all the dark places to hide, and fear already has your heart beating twice as fast as usual before you’ve even opened your door.

Still, you take a steadying breath, haul the backpack over on your shoulders, and exit the house without making a sound.

Everything is quiet outside. Snow is falling gently, and the sight would be heart-warming, if it wasn’t for all the overturned cars, the gaping hole torn into the building opposite from yours by one of those missiles a few months ago, and the worrying fresh footprints going towards the river. The snow also covers the decomposing bodies, and you can only hope that you don’t accidentally step on one as you start walking.

At least it fills your tracks behind you. By the time you’ve reached the other side of the street, which was one once an impossible task due to how bad traffic you used to be, nothing leads back to your door, and you leave with, at least, the reassurance that home will still be here waiting for you when you come back.

If you come back.

There’s comfort in knowing that you’d planned well, this time, to get to the parking lot. You get to your destination with only expected complications. You spot the monsters before they spot you. You have to reroute twice, but that had been accounted for, and you don’t even have to pull out your map. You reach the building right before noon, and after surveying it for a few minutes, you let yourself in before you can chicken out.

In the dark, you make your way to the first floor, where you will be able to have the greyish light of the day, instead of having to use precious batteries for your flashlight.

It’s not long before you’ve picked out the car, a familial minivan with an untouched baby seat in the back. You try not to think about the people it belonged to as you kneel by the side and prepare to siphon the tank. You make quick work of preparing it, with the tanks and hoses you’d brought for that purpose.

Maybe it’s your confidence that’s to blame for what happens next, or maybe it’s another one of these unforeseeable accidents. Either way, you catch movement from the corner of your eye and you jerk your head back as a reflex, but you’re not fast enough and unnaturally long claws dig into your cheek.

You manage not to scream despite the pain, scramble back and away from the van. There, standing on the roof, is a creature. Though it stands on two legs, there is nothing human about it anymore. The side of its face are sagging and drooping like it’s centuries old, covering where you assume its shoulders would be. It brings its claws to its lips, and your realize with horror that your blood is dripping from them.

Bleeding, in this world, might as well be a death sentence. You don’t bother wasting energy in stopping the tears from spilling from your eyes.

“Younnnnng,” the monster screeches. “Give— meeeeee…”

It at least snaps you out of the stupor, and you grab your bat, unwilling to go down without a fight.

But it’s not much of a fight, not when the scent and the noise are waking up all the other creatures hibernating around here.

You swing wildly as the thing, and manage to send it tumbling back. It’s only a short respite though, considering pain is only ever short lived for them, while blood is dripping down your chin and onto the concrete.

You throw your backpack on your shoulders with trembling hands and grab the first cannister that you’ve filled, abandoning the rest behind to start sprinting towards the exit.

You already know you won’t make it. You know you’ll have to run through the pitch dark ground floor, which is no doubt filled with more of those nightmares, and that the chances you’ll make it out on the other side are slim to none.

But you owe it to yourself fight until the very end.

As it stands, you don’t even make it to the downward slope that leads there. There’s the sound of something charging towards you, and then the— the head, it has to be, of a bull-like thing catches you in the ribs, and sends you flying into a car. Your breath is instantly knocked out of you, your vision goes blurry, your head starts reeling. You’re aware of the thing crashing into a concrete pillar. It at least stays there, struggling to pull itself out, but that’s barely any relief, because soon enough the first creature is calling out to you again, stretching out a skeletal arm towards you.

“Younnnnnng… Give meeeee…”

It kicks you in the ribs, and you roll onto your back, only to be met with the horrifying sight of its arm in the air, claws out and ready, preparing to cut your throat open.

You refuse to close your eyes.

And then, just as you think everything lost, someone steps in between you and the monster, blocking its arm with your very own baseball bat. You stare blankly at the large back, the unkept black hair, as the man forces it to step back and kicks it in the chest.

Then Hyun-Su turns around, and holds his hand out towards you.

He looks nothing like what you’re used to. He’s usually so lost, so hesitant, when he comes to you. Now he’s focused, purposeful, and in many ways, he reminds you of the boy you once knew, the captain of the football team who would without fail lead his team to victory.

“Let’s go,” he urges you, and when you weakly take his hand, he pulls you to your feet effortlessly.

You wheeze as the two of you run to hide behind a car. You press your free hand against your ribs, hoping to lessen the pain — it doesn’t work, of course.

“It’s going to find me,” you mumble to Hyun-Su as he keeps an eye on the thing. “It can— It can smell my blood.”

Hyun-Su’s head snaps towards you, and his expression darkens at the sight of the wound on your cheek. He lifts his hand halfway, as if to touch it, then lets it fall down again.

“You should—” Your voice breaks. “You should go. If it can find me… It’s not the only one.”

A strange expression that you can’t quite decipher passes on his face, before he shakes his head firmly.

“I’m not leaving you here.”

The relief you feel when he says those words is immediately overshadowed by embarrassment. You shouldn’t be happy. He needs to go, or he will die here with you, and what would the point be in that?

“What— What are you even doing here? How—”

You don’t know if he doesn’t answer on purpose, or if he hears a sound that takes his attention away from you.

“Can you run?” he asks you, glancing over the car.

Your body’s going to hurt like hell when the adrenaline wears out, but for now you give him a decided nod.

“Do you trust me?”

You should probably take your time to answer him, actually think about the question.

“Yes,” you answer instead, like it’s a reflex.

He exhales quietly, squeezes your hand in his.

“Then run.”

Then he’s pulling with him, running at full speed towards the open wall of the parking lot. Fear spikes through you. Even though you’re only on the first floor, it’s still too high to land comfortably. That fear is completely erased by the sight that greets you, briefly, of monsters stumbling and climbing all over each other to make their way up from the ground floor. There is a whole swarm of them teeming here already, and you can’t think of any other way to make it out alive — frankly, you have a hard time believing that this will work. But you cling to your faith in Hyun-Su like your life depends on it, because it does, and when he yells for you to jump, you do it without question.

While you’re flailing in the air, you feel him pulling you towards him. Strong arms wrap around you, and keep you caged and safe. You hit the ground brutally, rolling on the floor until you land on top of him.

“Fuck,” you mumble, painfully pushing you onto your elbows. “Hyun-Su, are— are you okay?”

The obvious answer to the question is ‘no’, and yet Hyun-Su doesn’t look worse for wear as he sits up, his eyes instead going over your body to make sure you weren’t too badly injured.

If you shiver when his hands run up and down your arms, it isn’t because of the cold.

“Let’s move,” he says, letting go of you all too quickly.

But, by the time you’re both on your feet, monsters attracted by the smell of your blood have started falling from the parking lot. The two of you sprint, but you’re no match for them and you know it. You regain the tiniest hope when you make it past a corner, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the snow will swallow your smell if you hide well enough — and then something wraps around your ankle.

In a second, you’re torn out of Hyun-Su’s grasp, and when you manage to roll onto your back to see who your assailant is, all you can do is let out an inhumane scream.

This particular monster has eight legs, like a spider, and its somewhat human torso  and head is completed by two long mandibles instead of a jaw. You manage to grab a knife from your pocket, but by the time you can cut its— web, you suppose, it’s charging towards you at full speed, and it’s close, too close for you to even get on your feet before—

When it attacks you, the first thing you see is what you first identify as a black wing, before you realize that it’s made out of a complex mix of flesh, bone and other materials that you can’t quite recognize, instead of feathers.

The wing pushes the creature back, and then Hyun-Su’s back is in front of you once more.

It’s his, you realize, brain awfully slow all of sudden. The wing. It’s attached to his shoulder, and all you can do is stare in confusion and horror. It flutters as he turns around to look at you.

You’re not fully in control when you scramble back, whole body shaking — because of the second near-death experience in ten minutes or because you’re terrified, you don’t know. What you do know is how hurt he looks, and how he turns his head the other way to face the monsters that are still coming after the two of you.

“You should run,” he says, low enough that you could miss it. He sounds hollow again. “Don’t turn around.”

You shake your head quietly, try to form some words. They all fail you. You don’t— you have no clue what’s happening. All that you know is that Hyun-Su is a monster and that he’s just used that to save your life.

The wave of monsters reach him just a few seconds later, before you’ve managed to decide anything. He pushes them back with practiced ease, one by one. You hate that you’re just sitting here, unable to move, as he fights for your life, yet your body just refuses to answer to you, even if you’re begging it to react.

Soon, the spider is the last one standing — or rather, the last one who hasn’t yet decided that you’d make a fairly meager lunch, considering how hard it is to get to you. It keeps attacking, and Hyun-Su keeps pushing it back, again, and again, until the creature manages to ensnare him in its web. Hyun-Su writhes, manages to pull his wing free, but it’s clear that he’s now at a disadvantage, and the mandibles click threateningly as the monster gets closer and closer to him.

Finally, your body agrees to react.

You run.

You don’t go very far though. You find the cannister you’d dropped and then you’re rushing back to throw the gasoline at the creature, half emptying it. The monster wasn’t paying attention to you, too busy trying to bite Hyun-Su’s head off, but its head snaps towards you when the liquid reaches it. It lets out a threatening hiss, which you ignore.

Instead, you find the lighter in your pocket.

Aim.

And throw.

The screams start right away, but it drops Hyun-Su, at least, as it tries to escape the fire.

For a second, you think you’ve made it — you’ve both made it, that is. Hyun-Su pulls himself to his feet. The wing flutters again, slowly starts to retreat back into his body to go back to a human arm.

He looks at you, expression unreadable.

And then one of the spider’s limb pierces through his chest. It’s not even calculated this time — just a movement it’s making as it tries to free itself from the flames that are consuming it.

You hear yourself scream. You don’t remember asking your body to move, this time, but you know that a second later you’re reaching Hyun-Su as he falls to his knees, and your arms are around him while you cradle him, pulling his head into your lap. Tears fall down your cheeks and onto his, as one of your hands tries, and fails, to apply pressure to the gaping wound, even if you know there is no point.

“No,” you beg. “No, no, no, no… Please, please, someone, please…”

You don’t know how many times you say it, how long you stay there. Snow starts to cover both his body and yours, and you realize you have a decision to make, if you don’t want to freeze to death. You just can’t bring yourself to do it.

Until Hyun-Su’s lifeless body arches in your arms with a gasp.

When his eyes open, they’re a clear, cold, uncanny blue.

You don’t dare to do anything then — not to let go of him, not to move away, not to break eye contact. It makes no sense, but you’re afraid that the slightest movement would have him gone again.

Slowly, his lips curve into a smirk, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. You’ve seen him smile, bright and sincere, and more recently, soft and subdued. But this amused, flirtatious smirk, that is completely new.

“You’re still here,” he comments, casually getting up, like nothing happen, like he can’t feel pain, like there isn’t a hole in his chest.

Even his voice is different. There’s a drawl to it, light and lazy, like he has all the time in the world.

“Hyun-Su?” you say, unsure of what’s happening. He was dead a minute ago. Then again, now that he’s breathing again, your brain is able to form the thought that he is a monster. An abnormal one, sure, and you don’t know enough to draw any conclusion, but it could be an explanation.

The smirk widens.

“Close enough,” he answers. “Are you scared?”

You’re not sure. You think you’re too emotionally exhausted to be scared.

“Should I be?” you ask. Maybe you shouldn’t trust this version of him to tell you the truth, and yet— All your senses are telling you that this is still Hyun-Su. And you don’t think he’d do anything to hurt you. Ever.

“It would break him if you got hurt,” not-Hyun-Su says, tilting his head. He lifts his index finger to tilt your head up. “I don’t want him broken.”

“Is he—” You interrupt yourself, unsure of what even is happening right now. But before you can start asking for answers, there is something you need to know. “Is Hyun-Su okay right now?”

He scoffs.

“He’s taking a break,” he replies. “He’s worked hard.” A beat while he seems to think about it. “Also, he thinks you hate him now.”

“I could never hate him,” you say, too easily, because it’s just the truth.

“Well, he is a monster,” not-Hyun-Su says with a shrug. He doesn’t seem to mean it as an insult, just stating a fact. You suppose he’s not wrong, and yet…

“The people I loved all turned into monsters,” you whisper quietly. Your mother, before you even made it home. Your best friend, who begged for death so she wouldn’t hurt others. Your father, who disappeared to protect you. You miss them all so much it sometimes feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest, and you’d give anything to have them back. So, if there is any way that you can still have Hyun-Su… “As long— as long as he’s not trying to kill me, does it really matter?”

The man watches you with interest, tilting his head to the side. It’s interesting. You haven’t been hurt by this world the way others have. Monsters caused death and destruction, but you watched half-monsters doing their very best to avoid hurting others, not unlike what Hyun-Su is doing right now.

The monster in him wonders what it would take, to destroy that ill-placed trust in others around you. The rest of him… is far too intrigued to give in. He grabs your chin between his thumb and his index finger, pulls your face closer to his.

“Doesn’t it?” he echoes your words. “What if I do hurt you?”

You swallow, call back the images of Hyun-Su easily taking out these monsters earlier. But you can’t forget that he’d been doing it to protect you.

“Y–You won’t,” you reply, even if your stutter betrays your lack of confidence.

It’s a leap of faith, but it seems to amuse him.

“For now,” he says, before his eyes roll into his head and Hyun-Su collapses in your arms.

You stumble back, barely manage to keep him up, before he seems to regain some control over his limbs and starts coughing. Even then, you don’t let go of him. You wrap both of your arms around him, head resting against his shoulder, and keep him there, against you.

Hyun-Su remains still for a while, breathing pained and ragged. The snow is still falling, but his body is warm.

“Are you okay?” he whispers with a hoarse voice.

“I am,” you answer. “Thanks to you.”

He lets out a pained sigh.

“Did he— Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head, barely moving away so you can look at him. He doesn’t look at you, keeps his eyes — black again, you note — fixedly in the other direction.

Like he can’t bear to know which emotion is on your face right now.

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” you say quietly. “I thought— I thought I’d lost you forever.”

Silence.

“Don’t leave me,” you beg, voice so low and broken you don’t think he’d hear if he wasn’t inches from you.

Hyun-Su’s body starts shaking against yours. Finally, finally, he wraps an arm around your waist, burying his head in your neck, and wet tears roll down your collarbone. In the freezing cold weather, they feel burning hot.

“Don’t hate me,” he begs in response, crying in your arms, fingers digging to the fabric of your clothes in a desperate attempt to keep you there, against him — even if there is no need for that right now.

You wish you could tell him that he just saved your life, that he’s been a guiding light in your cold, dark life this past few months, that you love him more than words can say. But that would take too long, and the situation calls for something shorter, more direct, and just as meaningful.

“You’re the only good thing about this world,” you say instead, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

Under the snow, for long minutes, Hyun-Su holds you like he never wants to let go.

When the two of you eventually detach from each other, he keeps your hand in his the whole walk home.

i hope you liked this installment! i'm probably going to write something much softer next, still for this couple (but it's hyun-su so it's still going to be angsty). if you're enjoying this, please let me know your thoughts, reblog or send in an ask. hearing from readers is so motivating and makes me want to keep writing!

next part

[eu-nicola]

the finish line part 1

sinopsis: you are the girlfriend of Lando Norris, Max Verstappen's rival with whom the tension between the two is undeniable.

warnings: love triangle, forbidden relationship, tension, infidelity

word counter: 5687

author's note: english is not my first language

The roar of the engines filled the air with an electric energy. The sky above the circuit was clear, cloudless, as if nature itself had decided that the competition would be without interference. The stands were shaking with excitement, and you were there, in the VIP area, your heart beating faster than usual. You saw Lando’s car on the starting grid, and despite having seen him compete so many times, each race gave you the same adrenaline. You loved Lando and supported his career without reservation, feeling a sincere pride every time he put on his helmet and immersed himself in his element, as if his whole life was leading up to that moment.

However, as you watched the drivers take their positions, your eyes were not fixed only on Lando’s car. Among the rows of single-seaters, one stood out in a way that made your heart waver, even though you did not want to admit it. Max Verstappen’s car. There was something about his presence that was imposing. Max moved with the confidence and precision of someone who had been born for this place, as if the asphalt was his home and the engines were his heartbeat.

Max and Lando were rivals. Their competition went far beyond the track, it was a battle of talents and personalities that pushed them to their limits. But, secretly, you had always felt a fascination towards Max that was difficult to ignore. Before meeting Lando, before feeling his hand take yours in those early days full of laughter and adventure, you had followed Max as a silent admirer, watching his rise in Formula 1 from a distance, mesmerized by his almost supernatural skill behind the wheel.

Your admiration had begun years ago, when you were still an anonymous spectator and Formula 1 was just a hobby. There was something special about the way Max approached races, a kind of intensity that separated him from the others. You remembered perfectly the first time you saw him win: that mix of strength and precision, an almost brutal will that made him get what he wanted. He was a predator on the track, and you, without being able to explain it to yourself, had become trapped in his world.

Since then, you had grown accustomed to watching him race, to secretly getting excited every time he crossed the finish line in first place. You had never told anyone about that part of you, least of all Lando. You loved your boyfriend and you loved watching him win, watching yourself celebrating beside him. However, you couldn't help a spark of excitement every time Max put his hands on the wheel and prepared for a race.

Today was one of those days when the two of you would face each other again, and the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. In the distance, you caught a glimpse of Max, preparing himself alongside his team. You forced yourself to look away, turning your attention back to Lando. You didn't want that secret admiration to show in your eyes. You knew Lando was aware of the competition with Max, and he probably wouldn't like to know that his girlfriend had an almost devout respect for his biggest rival.

The race began, and you held your breath. Every lap was a rollercoaster of emotions. Lando was going well, fighting to maintain his position while Max pushed for the lead. It was an impressive battle, a dangerous dance between two drivers who knew that any mistake could cost them dearly. Lando had the advantage, but Max was getting closer, closing the gap at every turn, as if he could read his rival's mind and anticipate his moves.

On the last lap, you almost stopped breathing. The two were neck and neck, and for a moment you found yourself wishing that Max could catch up, that he could prove once again why he was considered one of the best. Excitement washed over you, and at the same time, you felt a pang of guilt. You wanted Lando to win, of course, but there was something about the fight, about the possibility that Max could snatch the top spot from him, that made you hold your breath.

The deafening roar of the engines enveloped you as they crossed the finish line. Max had won. You stayed silent, knowing Lando wouldn't be happy with the outcome, but deep inside you, a part of you felt inexplicably satisfied.

The victory celebration filled the air, but in Lando's box, the atmosphere was completely different. Frustration was palpable in each of his movements, and you watched him from a corner, trying to gauge whether your support would be well received at that moment.

"It was crazy, wasn't it?" you commented with a smile, trying to ease the tension when he approached.

Lando barely responded, pressing his lips together and muttering something you couldn't understand. He used to be competitive, but at times like this, when the defeat came from Max, the comments that came out of his mouth surprised you a little.

"That guy..." he began to say, and you could hear the resentment in his voice. "He always plays on the edge, as if no one else mattered on the track. It's like he's racing alone, and the rest of us are just there for show."

You tried to smile to lighten the mood, but deep down it hurt you a little to hear him talk like that. You wanted to be Lando’s unconditional support, but deep down you couldn’t help but feel that there was something admirable about Max’s confidence and boldness that so exasperated his boyfriend.

“It’s true that it’s risky,” you conceded softly, without trying to justify anything. “But maybe that’s one of the reasons why he’s so fast.”

Lando looked at you, surprised, although clearly annoyed, and you couldn’t help but feel that he had picked up on something in your tone. You looked away before he could read too much into your expression.

“You have no idea what it’s like to be out there, competing at that level, risking your life at every turn,” he said in a harsher tone than usual. Lando rarely acted like that with you, and you knew it was frustration speaking.

You decided it was best to give him a moment’s space. You approached the edge of the track area, watching the celebrations from a distance, trying not to let Lando’s comments affect your own perspective. You knew he was angry and that his words were born from the helplessness of the moment.

Max had had an impeccable race, he had taken risks at every turn and had shown, once again, why he was the best on the track. The competitive fire that sometimes made him impulsive was also what made his talent shine the way it did.

Suddenly, you noticed that Lando had approached, still frowning, but his eyes showed a silent apology. He was aware of what you felt and, although he hadn't said anything to you, you knew that he had understood that Max, on some level, was also someone you admired.

"I'm sorry about what I said before," he finally said, with a sigh. "It's just that it's hard for me. It's not his talent, it's..." Lando paused, and looked at the track with a mixture of resentment and resignation. "It's just luck."

You looked at him with a slight smile and took his hand, trying to offer him the security he needed at that moment. Lando needed someone to support him, and you were there for that.

“It’s just one more race,” you said, squeezing his hand. “And there will be many more where you’ll be the one celebrating.”

Lando smiled back at you, albeit with a hint of sadness, and you noticed that, at least for now, he was willing to put the tensions aside.

That same night, the atmosphere at the hotel where the drivers and their teams were staying was a mix of celebration and relaxation after the stress of the race. The after-party was a tradition in Las Vegas. You knew Lando wasn’t completely thrilled with the idea, considering how the race had ended.

The two of you returned to the hotel after the awards ceremony, and went up to your room in silence. He gave you a kiss on the cheek before entering the bathroom, and you took the opportunity to start getting ready.

Opening your suitcase, you looked for the dress you had chosen for the night: an elegant design, in a deep red tone. You put it on carefully, letting the soft material slide over your body. In front of the mirror, you began fixing your hair, opting for a loose yet sophisticated style, striking enough for the occasion without being over the top.

From across the room, you heard Lando exit the bathroom. You turned to look at him, finding him dressed in a dark blue shirt that brought out the color of his eyes, with the sleeves slightly rolled up, and dark pants. It was the kind of style he liked, relaxed but carefully put together, with a touch that kept his air youthful. He looked good, as always, but this time there was something about his posture, a tension that hadn’t quite faded yet.

“Ready?” he asked, smiling slightly as he watched you.

“Almost,” you said, putting the finishing touches on your makeup and adding long earrings that hung elegantly from your ears. “You’re ready too, right?”

He nodded, approaching you with a leisurely pace and standing behind you in front of the mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist. You could see his eyes in the reflection, watching you, and for a moment at least, he seemed to relax.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly, resting his chin on your shoulder. Even though the tension from the race was still there, his words managed to bring a smile to your face.

“Thank you, love. And you look… like always,” he replied, joking softly, and you both laughed.

The walk to the party was quiet, and as they arrived, music began to play from the hotel lobby. The party was in full swing, and as soon as they entered, the festive atmosphere enveloped them: colorful lights, the pulsating music, and the murmur of voices from the drivers, mechanics, and other guests filled the place. Champagne glasses were circulating around the room, and some of the drivers were already in the center, laughing and joking as they exchanged anecdotes from the race.

Lando took you by the hand as they walked together toward the group of his friends and teammates, who greeted them with a cheer and friendly banter. He laughed and let himself go, and although it was still clear that the day had been a difficult one for him, it seemed like the company helped him relax.

But then, unintentionally, your eyes drifted to a corner of the room, where Max was talking to some of his team members, a drink in his hand and a relaxed smile on his face. He was wearing a simple but well-fitting black shirt, his hair disheveled after an action-packed day. Watching him laugh, you noticed something you had rarely seen: an almost carefree warmth, a version of him that only emerged when he was away from the pressure of the race.

You tried to look away, but your curiosity was stronger, and your eyes found him again from time to time, as if a part of you couldn't help it. Every so often, he seemed to catch your gaze, giving you a slight smile before returning to his conversation.

Lando, oblivious to the tension, continued chatting with his companions, and you tried to focus on the moment, ignoring the persistent feeling that someone else was watching you from the other side of the room. The music and laughter continued, the noise creating a kind of bubble in which you could hide, but even so, you felt trapped in that mix of emotions.

Suddenly, Max said goodbye to those around him and began to walk towards the center of the room, passing close to you. His gaze passed over the group and stopped on you. It was a fleeting moment, but enough for the heat to rise to your cheeks.

You tried to hide it, focusing on the conversation Lando was having, although your mind wandered between the pride of being by his side and the unexpected fascination that Max managed to awaken in you every time you saw him.

The night progressed, and little by little, both you and Lando were integrated into the party separately. He joined his friends, and soon you found yourself sharing laughs with some of your friends. You sipped from your glass, letting yourself be carried away by the warmth of the alcohol, which was starting to make the music louder, the lights brighter, and the atmosphere more welcoming.

Yet, throughout the night, you couldn't help it: every now and then your eyes would wander away, searching for that familiar, dangerous look you'd caught earlier. Max wasn't that far away, and on several occasions his blue eyes met yours, each exchange of glances a little longer than the last.

He did nothing but look at you, but every time he did, a smile would appear on his lips. It was an almost mocking gesture, as if he was aware of the tension he was creating and was having fun with it. The intensity of his gaze seemed to go beyond simple curiosity, and you felt your cheeks heat up with each fleeting encounter. However, you tried to hide it, devoting yourself to your friends, to the laughter and the anecdotes of the night.

Until, at some point, you realized that Max was no longer in the room. You looked around, wanting to find out if he had wandered off or was simply in another conversation, but his figure was nowhere to be seen among the lights or the laughter of the scattered groups. You felt a slight pang of disappointment, though you didn't want to give it too much importance. Plus, you had Lando at this very party; the only one you should really care about was here, having fun with his friends.

So, determined to ignore the slight discouragement, you had another drink, joining in the vibrant energy of the party, allowing yourself to release the pent-up emotions of the week. But the alcohol was taking its toll, and after a while, you felt the need to freshen up and, above all, find the bathroom. You said goodbye to your friends momentarily and began walking towards the hallway that led to the bathrooms, moving away from the music and the bustle.

The hallway was dimly lit, with an air of calm that contrasted with the festive chaos of the main room. As you moved forward, you felt the atmosphere grow quieter, the echoes of the music just a distant murmur. You turned the corner towards the bathroom, only to stop dead when you suddenly saw him.

Max was there, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on you. At first, you thought it was a coincidence, that he was simply waiting for someone or taking a breather. But when his lips curved into a slow, almost mischievous smile, you knew he was there for you.

“Lost?” he asked, his voice deep and heavy with irony, but also with something else, something that made your chest turn.

“No… I was just looking for the bathroom,” you answered, trying to keep your composure, although you felt the air had become a little thicker, more charged between the two of you.

He nodded, that relaxed, confident expression that never seemed to leave him, and took a step towards you, closing the distance in a way that made you feel a rush of nerves and excitement.

“Are you enjoying the party?” he asked softly, not taking his gaze away from yours. His tone was casual, but there was something in his eyes that made you feel like there was a deeper intention behind each word.

“Yeah…” you replied, swallowing hard, as you realized you were staring at his lips. You looked away quickly, trying to regain control of the situation. “It’s… fun.”

Max laughed, a low, warm sound that echoed through the hallway. He noticed your gaze as well, and instead of making any comment, he simply moved a little closer. You could feel the warmth of his presence, and the faint scent of his lotion mixed with the soft touch of alcohol that enveloped him. His closeness was intoxicating.

“You know?” “I’ve been watching you all night,” he said, with a frankness that took you by surprise. He didn’t bother to disguise the truth, and the impact of his words made your neck tingle. “I think you’ve been looking for me too.”

You tried to answer, but the words caught in your throat. Max was so close that you could notice every detail of his face, the tones in his eyes and the slight smile that lingered on his lips. You knew you should back off, that the situation was going too far, but there was something about him that drew you in, like a magnetic force impossible to ignore.

“Max…” you whispered, not sure what else to say. It was all a jumble of emotions: the confusion, the attraction, the guilt you felt in some corner of your mind for being here, in this moment with him.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want,” he said softly, but his tone was serious, beyond the amusement he had shown before. His gaze was intense, sincere, and you felt the world stop at that moment. It was as if he were giving you a choice, an open door to decide.

The silence between you was thick and heavy. Around you, the party continued, distant, an echo of laughter and music, but at this moment there was only him, and the decision you had to make.

The hallway was silent, almost as if the party had vanished and only the two of you remained, trapped in that suspended moment. His proximity made the air seem heavier, charged with something you could no longer ignore. You knew you should move away, that crossing that line could have consequences, but at that moment all rational thought was fading, consumed by the intensity of his presence and the intoxicating effect of the alcohol.

Max looked at you with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. You felt his gaze running over you as if he could read every doubt, every hidden thought you refused to admit. He didn't move, but he didn't back down either. It was as if he was waiting for you to decide, giving you all the control and, at the same time, all the weight of that choice.

Finally, unable to contain yourself any longer, you took a step towards him. It was barely a fraction of a distance, but it was enough to make you feel even closer. You noticed how his expression changed, his subtle smile turning into a satisfied smirk. Max raised a hand and gently slid it over your arm, his touch light, barely a brush that sent a shiver down the length of your spine.

"I knew you wouldn't let me down," he murmured, his voice almost a whisper that echoed in the hallway.

Without saying anything else, he looked at you with that mix of confidence and sweetness that made your defenses crumble. With a dangerous calm, Max leaned towards you, until his lips barely touched yours. It was a brief contact, barely a brush, as if he was giving you one last chance to stop him. But you didn't.

Unable to resist any longer, you closed the small distance between you and kissed him, letting all the pent-up tension fade away in that instant. His hand moved up to your cheek, holding you firmly as the kiss deepened. His mouth was warm, safe, and you felt like the whole world was disappearing with each passing second, until there was nothing left but him.

Max gently pushed you against the wall, his hands moving down your arms, your sides, until they were on your waist, holding you with the same firmness he used to control his car on the track. He kissed you with an intensity that made you lose your breath, and you found yourself tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to you, letting yourself go without hesitation.

Everything about him drew you in an inescapable way. His scent, his restrained strength, his control, and the way he seemed to read your thoughts without you saying a word. You felt like time was slipping away, and at the same time, every second was eternal, every movement of his etching itself into your memory, into your skin.

When he pulled away for just a moment to look at you, his eyes shone with a mix of desire and a hint of satisfaction. He knew you had fallen, that you had crossed that line, and he didn't seem to regret it in the slightest. His lips were so close you could feel his breath, and before you could say a word, he smiled and kissed you again, even more intensely than before.

Every time his lips moved over yours, you lost yourself more in the sensation, in the danger and the attraction. Rationality, guilt, everything seemed far away, insignificant compared to the need to feel it, to let yourself go to that moment that you had secretly desired and that was now real, tangible, in his arms.

Without realizing it, your hands went down his chest, feeling the strength of his muscles under the fabric of his shirt, and he let out a soft moan that made you shudder. Max was a sea of ​​intensities and contrasts, and, having him so close, you knew there was no turning back.

After a last kiss full of desire, both of you separated, aware that you could not disappear for long without raising suspicions. Max looked at you with a satisfied and complicit expression. He ran his hand over your face, giving you a look that was both comforting and challenging, a silent promise that this did not end here. But now both of you had to go back.

With a brief smile and no further words, he stepped away, turning down the hall as if nothing had happened. You watched as he disappeared into the crowd, his figure melting back into the hustle and bustle of the party. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, to regain control of your emotions and erase any hint of what had just happened. You couldn't let anyone notice, much less Lando.

You walked back into the living room with measured steps, trying to relax, even though your heart was pounding. Your hands were shaking slightly, and you struggled to remember how to keep a neutral expression. The music, the lights, the laughter around you seemed to echo the intensity of your encounter with Max, and with each passing second you wondered if anyone suspected something, if it could be seen in your gaze, in the way you moved.

In the distance, you saw Lando laughing with some friends, completely oblivious to what had just happened in the hallway. When you met him, he gave you an effusive hug, and you tried to respond with the same naturalness, as if nothing had changed, as if your heart wasn't still beating with the memory of Max.

"Where have you been?" Lando asked you, without suspecting anything, looking at you with that familiarity that you had always felt. His smile was warm, an anchor that made you feel on the verge of guilt.

"Oh, I went to the bathroom, and then I saw the girls and we stayed talking for a while," you lied, forcing a smile as you tried to push away any thoughts of what had happened moments ago.

You nodded as Lando offered you another drink, and forced yourself to smile and laugh with him, even though your mind was elsewhere.

As Lando spoke to you, you nodded, trying to focus on each word.

In the distance, once again, you caught sight of Max's figure in the crowd. He looked at you again, this time with a much more subtle, discreet expression. No one else seemed to notice the silent exchange between the two of you, but you knew he was there, watching you, a constant reminder of what had happened and what could happen again.

As the party continued, you forced yourself to stay by Lando's side, sharing laughs and enjoying the night at his side. But deep down, a part of you had already changed.

When the night finally began to fade and tiredness weighed on you, you and Lando decided to head back to the hotel. You walked beside him, silently, enjoying the cool early morning air that tried to dissipate the heat and bustle of the party. Lando, exhausted but content, took your hand and smiled at you before looking out at the street, distracted and sleepy. You clung to that moment of peace with him.

It wasn't long before your phone vibrated in your bag. At first, you didn't pay much attention, thinking it would be one of your friends or just some unimportant notification. However, upon hearing the sound for the second and third time, your curiosity got the better of you and you surreptitiously pulled out your phone, taking advantage of the fact that Lando was busy checking something on his own phone.

The screen lit up with a name that made your heart skip a beat: Max Verstappen. Your pulse instantly quickened, and you glanced at Lando out of the corner of your eye, making sure he was still distracted. You tried to stay calm, but each new vibration of the phone seemed to intensify your nervousness.

"How did he get your number?" you wondered, incredulous. Maybe he had gotten it through some acquaintance, some mutual contact. But instead of worrying you, that initiative on his part made a shiver of excitement and fear run through you.

You read the first message quickly, your heart beating so hard it seemed to echo in the stillness of the early morning.

Max: “Do you regret what happened tonight?"

You kept your eyes on the screen, noticing the confident expression his words inspired in you, knowing he knew the answer well.

With your thumb shaking, you scrolled to the next message:

Max: "I hope not, because I don't plan on forgetting it that easily."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle the mix of emotions that was overwhelming you. You knew it was a delicate situation, but the adrenaline you felt from those messages made it impossible for you to turn away from that conversation. Lando, oblivious to what was happening, smiled at you and put an arm around your shoulder, hugging you as you walked towards the hotel entrance. You tried hard to smile back, trying to erase any hint of nervousness.

However, as soon as you entered the elevator, your phone vibrated again. Max seemed to have no intention of waiting for a response, and the next message was even more direct:

Max: "If you decide to go out again, I'll be awake."

The short sentence caused your cheeks to heat up. You stared at the message for a few seconds, as the elevator rose and you struggled to keep a neutral expression. You didn’t want Lando to suspect anything, but it was impossible not to feel the urge to respond.

Finally, when they reached the door of the room and Lando dropped his things, exclaiming with an exhausted sigh, you took advantage of that moment to type a quick and short response, trying to control the emotion that was overwhelming you.

You: “I don’t plan on forgetting this night either.”

You put your phone on silent and joined Lando, trying to focus on him and the routine of the night.

Even though you had silenced the notifications, your mind kept going back to Max’s messages. You knew it would be best to ignore him and not let yourself get dragged further into what had already happened that night, but the temptation to check each of his messages was too strong. Lando slept soundly beside you, the exhaustion of the race and the party having overcome him in no time, while you tossed and turned in bed, unable to fall asleep.

The early morning was advancing, and every second in the dimness of the room only made the urge to check your phone more pressing. Finally, unable to resist it any longer, you carefully reached out and took the phone. You unlocked it, and immediately, several new messages from Max lit up the screen.

The first message was direct, almost as if he were daring you to respond:

Max: "Still awake?"

Seeing that simple question, your heart raced again, and in that moment you knew he was waiting, attentive, too.

You scrolled down to the next message, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Max: "I can't stop thinking about you tonight."

The intensity of his words made the room seem even quieter, like the whole world had stopped and the only thing that existed was the conversation they were having. Your finger lowered once more, and the last message was the one that left you speechless:

Max: “If you ever get tired of what you have… you know where to find me.”

You read those words over and over again, trying to process the weight of what Max was implying.

Without realizing it, a slight tremor took over your hand as you held the phone. You didn’t know how to respond, or if you should. You knew you couldn’t erase what had happened, and the memory of his lips, his touch, his gaze, all of it still burned your skin. Part of you wanted to respond, to let go, to explore that desire you had held onto for so long.

The temptation was impossible to ignore, and before you knew it, your fingers began typing, guided by a mix of excitement and the urge to find out how far this conversation could take you.

You: “Max, you know this shouldn’t be happening.”

Almost immediately, the three dots appeared on the screen, signaling that Max was typing. Your heart was racing as you waited for his response, nervous and expectant at the same time.

Max: “Really? Because I think it should happen. I think we’ve been ignoring it for too long.”

His words were confident.

You: “It’s crazy, Max. You know that.”

Max: “I know that. But tell me, do you really want to stop here?”

You read his message over and over, considering his question. You knew what he was hoping to hear, and a part of you wanted to too, even though your mind kept telling you it was dangerous, that you shouldn’t go any further. But the rational part of you was growing weaker in the face of Max's intensity and the night they'd shared.

After a few seconds, you decided to answer, taking a little more risk.

You: "I don't know if I want to stop, Max… But I don't know what this means either."

Max's response came almost instantly, as if he'd been waiting for that opening.

Max: "It means whatever you want it to mean. I'm not going to pressure you, but I think we both feel something more. Don't tell me you don't feel the same spark."

The directness of his words disarmed you. You had tried to ignore it, rationalize it, even suppress it. But now that he'd said it out loud, that he'd given that spark a name, it was impossible to deny the reality. It wasn't just a one-night stand; it was something you'd felt for him since before you met Lando, a kind of fascination and attraction that now seemed to have a life of its own.

You: "This isn't easy. You know I'm with Lando."

Max: “I know. I’m not asking you to make a decision right now. I just want you to know that I’ll be here, if you ever decide that this is worth it.”

His words echoed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to allow yourself to explore what he had to offer. You knew it was a line that, once crossed, there was no turning back. And yet, every message from Max made the barrier between reason and desire crumble a little more.

You: “It’s harder than you imagine.”

Max: “Maybe. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that things that are truly worth it are rarely easy.”

You bit your lip, staring at his words and feeling a mix of intense emotions.

You: “So, what do we do now?”

There was a pause, and for a moment you thought maybe he wouldn’t respond. But then came his message, simple and direct.

Max: "For now, we're keeping this between us. There's no rush… But I'm not going to let this end here."

You fell silent, contemplating his words and feeling your heart race. You knew nothing would be the same after tonight.

[asunsetgrace16]

✧ …𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗗𝗔𝗗, 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗬 𝗦𝗘𝗘𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘⎥𝗖𝗕98

Pairing: Connor Bedard x fem!Crosby!reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: Connor and Y/N Crosby, Sidney's daughter, are in a secret relationship and are outed when she goes to the All Stars with her dad

Notes: The italics section is the flashback to how Connor and Y/N met. This is my new longest fic, and man I got carried away writing how Y/N and Connor met. Not really proofread, so hope for the best. Requested by anonymous.

masterlist⎥ navigation

Word Count: 2.3k

It’s not exactly unexpected, for Connor Bedard and Y/N Crosby to be dating. His childhood idol, her father. Their lives are interconnected by a web of hockey players, former teammates, and friendships a mile deep. But, the caveat is, no one actually knows they are together. 

Y/N knew her dad would lose his mind when he found out who exactly her boyfriend is. From the time she was old enough to date, the rule was no hockey players, absolutely no teammates, and especially no rookies. Will he find out? Eventually, but not any time soon if Y/N has anything to say about it.

-

“I have tickets to most of the Canadian games, and I want to watch them win gold, in person. I was planning on going to the condo. No Dad, I'm fine. No, you don’t need to have Auntie Taylor come with me. I’m absolutely taking advantage of the fact that we have a place right where the World Juniors are happening. I’m seventeen for God’s sake, and I’ve been fairly independent for years. I’ll be fine.” Y/N says, on the phone with her dad. 

“I know, but you’re still my little girl. I’ll always want to protect you, no matter how old you get.” her dad, Sidney, says.

“I know dad, but this will be good practice for when I’m away at university.” She tells him teasingly.

“Uhhhg, don’t remind me.” he groans, “I trust you not to burn the place down, and try not to go overboard, with anything. The credit card for food and stuff is in the safe, and you have your own for anything else. Call me, if you need anything.”

“Thanks dad, I will.”

“Love you honey.”

Love you too, dad. Bye.”

There, that’s settled, Y/N thinks to herself. She is already in Cole Harbour, staying with her grandparents for Christmas. They already know her plans, and she convinced –not that she needed any convincing– her aunt Taylor to come with her for a girls trip. She flips her laptop open, hits play on Downton Abbey, and finishes her packing. 

“Tay, are you ready yet?” Y/N calls a few hours later. She hefts her suitcase down the stairs, shouldering a backpack.

“Yeah bug, just put my bags in the car. Bring yours out here too.” Taylor replies, “We can be on the road in twenty if we hurry.”

“Make it fifteen.” Y/N challenges with a grin.

The preliminary round of the tournament passes fast. After the shocking Game 1 loss, Canada bounces back and plows through every game afterwards. An exciting quarterfinals win against Slovakia has Canada set to play USA in the semifinals. A match up that always promises an electric game.

After the quarterfinal game, Y/N and Taylor head back to the dressing rooms and player’s entrance for a shortcut to the parking lot. They both have access, thanks to Sid. They talk excitedly about Bedard’s OT winner, a wicked 3-on-1 goal. 

“That was incredible.” Y/N exclaims. She’s no stranger to good hockey, but seeing a player that young, one her own age, to have such amazing talent is unreal to see. 

“Yes it was-” Taylor starts, but is cut off by a man in a suit stalking towards them.

“Hey! You two aren’t allowed back here. Players and staff only. Who do you think you are? Waltzing around here like you own the place? No respect anymore.” He rants before someone grabs him, pulling him away from Y/N and Taylor.

“I am so sorry about Randy. I’m Jim, by the way.” Jim apologizes, “I’m assuming that since you’re back here, you have permission. Is there something I can do to make it up to you? Wait, you’re Crosby’s daughter, aren't you? This makes a lot more sense now.”

“Yes I am, and we have permission. I can’t think of anything, it’s not necessary.” Y/N says. But Jim is determined, knowing who she is now. He offers to introduce the women to the team. They agree, and after Jim explains the situation to Randy, they all head back towards Canada’s dressing room. Talking the whole way, Jim explains that the team has a place rented for the tournament where the boys can hang out and relax. 

“If you’d like to join us, you are more than welcome. I won’t tell them who you are, I’ll let that happen naturally.” Jim says with a wink. “I want to see the look on their faces. It’s too bad your dad couldn't make it. That would really blow their socks off.” The group laughs and waits for Randy to make sure all the guys are decent, and beacons them in with a sheepish look, apologizing once again. The introduction is basic, no announcement or anything. Taylor and Y/N meet the rest of the staff first, quickly becoming engrossed in conversation. 

“So,” the head coach says, “Crosby’s daughter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you.” Y/N replies.

“Coach, did you just say Crosby's daughter? She's here? Holy shit!” one of the players exclaims, joining their little group. “I’m Brandt, nice to meet you. Is your dad here, by chance?” He says, very quickly. The energy rolls right off of him.

“No, he’s not, unfortunately. West Coast road trip.” Y/N says, failing to hide a giggle. 

“Wanna mess with the guys with me?” Brandt asks, a scheming look on his face.

“Always.”

“Ok, I’m going to introduce you around, but not mention your last name. I want to see how long it takes the guys to figure out who you are.”

“Oh I like that.” They grin at each other, and make their way around the room. Before long, the whole team is standing or sitting close together, chatting with Y/N. The adrenaline can still be felt in the dressing room. 

“So how long are you in town for?” Dylan asks, “Hopefully long enough to watch us win gold.”

Y/N and Brandt exchange a look, “I’m planning on it. I don’t have to be back in Pittsburgh until the tenth.”

“Pittsburgh? You came all the way up here, to watch a Canadian team win? That makes no sense.” Logan wonders, looking confused.

“Oh I’m Canadian, I just live in Pittsburg with my dad. I was up visiting my grandparents for Christmas.” Y/N says. It is getting awfully difficult to keep a straight face. 

“Where do your grandparents live?” That comes from Olen.

“Cole Harbour.”

“Does that mean you've met Sidney Crosby?” Ethan asks. 

“Yup, see him all the time.” She bites back a smile. Brandt has to turn around and take a deep, shuddering breath so he doesn’t give them away. Connor sees him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Wait, you’re Y/N Crosby!” Connor says, standing up just as Y/N and Brandt burst out laughing. The rest of the boys look shocked as the two struggle to stop laughing. Connor grins, chuckling as Y/N wipes honest-to-goodness tears from her eyes. The staff and Taylor laugh amongst themselves, watching the young folks. 

“Guilty as charged.” She says breathlessly, silently wondering if Brandt is going to die of oxygen deprivation at this point. His face is pretty red. Now the questions are really flowing by the time Brandt finally regains some composure. The excited chatter doesn’t stop at the restaurant, either. Y/N and Taylor are invited to stay. As the evening winds down, Y/N finds herself with Connor, conversation flowing easily. 

“Nice goal, by the way. Dad was impressed.” Y/N says, nudging his shoulder with hers.

“Really?” Connor flushes. Cute.

“Yeah, he sees a lot in you.”

“That is…I have no words.” He admits. “Do you, um, do you think you’d want to sit with my family for the rest of the games? I want to talk to you more, and um…I’m just going to stop talking before I make a fool out of myself.”

“I’d love to.”

Connor and Y/N spend a lot of time together in the following days. She sits with his family during the final, and celebrates with them after they win gold.

“We did it!” Connor shouts, picking Y/N up and spinning her around. There is a moment when he sets her down where her arms are still on his shoulders and his hands are on her waist. The noise fades away, just the two of them in a little bubble. “Can I have your number? I’d like to keep talking to you, and take you out sometime.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” She replies.

-

Now, over a year and 10 months into dating later, Connor and Y/N are both in Toronto for the All Stars. 

“Hey baby.” Connor says, putting his phone away when Y/N slips into the empty visitors dressing room.

“Hey Con.” She goes to him easily, settling comfortably into his open arms. He puts his chin on her head and tightens his hold on her. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. I’m glad you decided to come.”

“Me too.” She tips her head up, meeting Connor in the middle for a sweet kiss. They go back to their hug, Y/N tucked against his chest, feeling warm again in the cold arena. They simply stand like that, swaying gently and soaking up the moment. They get so wrapped up in each other that they fail to hear voices outside the door. Connor goes to kiss Y/N again, but is interrupted by the door slamming open. Their heads snap to the door, wide eyed and scared.

“Y/N ANNA CROSBY. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” Sidney yells furiously, steam practically shooting from his ears like a cartoon character. Nate is standing close behind him, and Cale, Mathew Barzal, and Brady Tkachuk stand in the doorway. Connor and Y/N take a step back from each other, but keep their hands tightly clasped.

“How dare you not tell me about this. You know the rules, I expect you to follow them.”

“I-” She begins.

“And you,” Sid says, pointing at Connor, “I expected better from you. You’re a good kid, but I have rules for a reason.” Y/N grips Connor’s hand, squeezing three times. 

“You can’t control me like this, Dad. I’ve never had a real relationship because of you. So much of my life is wrapped up in hockey that it was easy to find my person there, and if it wasn’t a hockey-playing boyfriend, it was a hockey fan boyfriend which is worse. All they ever wanted to talk about was you, they never wanted me for who I am. Or you just plain scared them off because ‘no one is good enough for my daughter so why should she even bother’.” Y/N says back to him. Her chest is heaving and she is fighting off tears. 

“I can’t believe that you didn’t tell me this. How long have you two been together anyways?” Sid asks, still pissed off.

“Ten months.” Connor replies, voice strong and true despite the situation. He is nervous, of course, but he loves Y/N too much to let his childhood idol have much of an impact.

“TEN MONTHS!” Sid exclaims, incredulous that his daughter kept this secret, “Bloody hell. What possessed you to keep this from me?”

“This exact reaction that I knew would happen. I knew that if I told you when Connor first asked me out, you would flat-out forbid me to see him, and that wouldn’t have ended the way you wanted anyway. At least this way the two of us can act as a united front and you can see that this isn’t bad. We are both 18, legal adults. You can’t tell me what to do anymore.”

Sid stays silent. He is still angry, but the figurative steam has gone away. Nate and the others hover around the door.

Y/N continues, “I get it, Dad. You just want to protect me, and I love you for it. But I’m not a little kid anymore, I can’t be sheltered forever. And Connor’s good to me. You know he would be.” She takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I knew that if I did, you would react exactly the way you are. I wanted to be able to figure out my relationship without my dad looking over my shoulder the whole time.”

Sid’s face falls at her monologue. He can finally understand what Y/N was trying to say for years. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I had no intention for it to go that far. It is hard to watch you grow up, but I need to grow up some too and understand that you are an adult now. In my attempts to protect you, I drove you straight into what I always knew would happen. Thankfully, you picked a good one.” Sid pulls his daughter into a hug, tears threatening to fall. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me, it wasn’t fair of me.”

“Thanks dad, for apologizing. I know you meant well, but I don’t think this wasn’t the best way to get you to see my side of it” Y/N quips, a wry smile on her face. 

“I’m still pissed that you didn’t tell me, but I’d rather it was you than a lot of other guys” Sid states, reaching out to shake Connor’s hand, “but if you hurt her, I have a lot of power in this game.”

“I know,” Connor says, eyes focused on Y/N. A look so full of love even Sidney can’t deny it, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Awwww.” The trio looks up to see the other four guys with their hands clasped over their hearts, cute pouts on their lips. 

“The babies are in love.” Cale says with a grin.

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

You are now reading Part 2 of my series!

Part 1 Part 3

The rumble of engines vibrated through your core, a familiar rhythm sending a wave of excitement. Two weeks since the cops and the car chase, and the adrenaline was back, thick in the grimy air of the deserted industrial park. A new place was chosen since the police were heavily patrolling your previous gathering ground.

Tonight's race was going to be electric, a head-to-head between Bakugo and Midoriya.

You knew the greenette had a crush on you. The way he stammered whenever you spoke to him, the lingering glances you caught him stealing – it wasn't hard to miss. A sly smile played on your lips. Maybe you could use that to your advantage tonight.

Standing at the starting line, you felt like a perfect match for Bakugo's car – a vibrant orange that soaked up the lights from street lamps and cars, mirrored perfectly by the conspicuous shade of his new car.

He had mentioned it to you over a call the two of you shared at two in the morning... it was a Pagani Zonda R, you think, remembering the blonde's smirk as he held the phone over his head, sitting on the trunk of the car, claiming it was supposed to be a surprise for you.

You decided to give him a little surprise of your own. A daring combination of shorts and a matching orange bandeau top, something that surely caught his attention. The outfit left little to the imagination and Bakugo's thoughts were running wild.

Bakugo, with a glint in his carmine eyes, sat behind the wheel, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. Lined up next to him was Midoriya, his signature curly green hair whipping in the wind as he fidgeted with the rearview mirror of what you presumed to be a Lamborghini.

As the crowd settled, a hush falling over them in anticipation, you notice Bakugo climbed out of his car. A slow smirk spread across your face. What in the world was he up to?

He swaggered towards you, confidence radiating from him like heat waves. Your breath hitched as he reached out, his rough fingers brushing yours, interlocking your hands before he pulled you close. Before you could even think, his lips were on yours – a rough, possessive kiss that left you breathless. With your free hand in his hair and his free hand on your lower back. This was sure to make it up on social media.

It was a blatant message, scrawled across your lips in a language only Bakugo could speak: you were his.

The crowd cheered and hollered and the small whine that you let out was a symphony to Bakugo's ears, a music that drowned everything else out. He pulled away, resting his forehead on yours.

You swore you saw Midoriya turn green (well, greener). He was frozen in his car, his normally bright eyes clouded with a mix of shock and…jealousy? The thought sent a playful flutter through your stomach. Maybe this race would be more interesting than you thought.

Actually, screw that. This race is going to be more interesting than you would ever imagine.

Pulling away, Bakugo left you reeling, a cocky grin plastered on his face. Then, he climbed back into his car with a wink that had your stomach doing backflips.

Composing yourself, you grabbed the microphone and addressed the buzzing crowd. "Alright racers, listen up! Tonight's race is a special one. The winner takes home the usual prize money, sure. However, we have some special guests! Everyone, please give it up for Endeavour and All Might!"

The two mentioned males reeled in, two of the most fanciest cars you have ever seen, no doubt custom made. One a striking yellow with hints of red and blue and another a crimson read, with fire designs lining the bottom and flaring up, both vehicles heavily tinted.

To say the crowd went bonkers was an understatement. People were screaming, throwing popcorn in the air, jumping wildly and flailing their arms all over the place.

"Calm down everybody. I know this is a big moment, having Japan's two greatest racers here is an unexpected surprise, isn't it?" You inquired through the mic, laughing softly.

Bakugo's face went red. Your laugh was... what was the word shitty hair said again? Cute? No, fuck that.

Your laugh was like music to his eardrums. He never wanted it to end. And the way you scrunched your nose told him that you were genuinely laughing and not forcing it.

"Alright you two, whoever wins this race will have the opportunity to be recognized by the duo of the racing world. Now, racers... Start your engines!" you raised a flagged fist in the air as the low rumbling of Bakugo's engine started up, followed closely by the wild sound of Midoriya's.

"Okay, you guys. Ready?" you grinned, reaching into your back pocket. They revved their engines, hyping up the crowd.

"Set?" you whipped out your phone and turned on the camera, turning your back to the two cars, which Bakugo loved. Your whole ass was in his sight and he committed the picture to memory. You turned on the flash as your face formed a little pout, and you clicked the shutter, capturing the two expensive cars in the background along with a whole assemblage of people.

"Go, go, go!" you screamed while turning around and swishing the flag to the ground. The sound of tyres screeching against the muddy racetrack filled the night, and both Bakugo and Midoriya shot off the line like rockets. This time, though, the race felt different.

If there was one rule about the racing world, it was probably to never let feelings get into the way. Emotions, especially uncontrolled ones, can cause serious harm on the tracks.

And that's exactly what happened.

Bakugo drove with a controlled fury, taking every turn with calculated aggression, showcasing his raw talent. Midoriya, fueled by a mix of determination and a silent vow to prove himself, pushed his car to its limits, weaving through traffic with surprising agility. One of the parts of the race was of course, a tunnel.

"Kacchan, get the fuck off of my car!" he screeched, as Bakugo closed in on him, causing his left side to graze against the tunnel wall. Midoriya knew he could've hurt innocent people if he sped up or slowed down too fast, so he had to bear the ear-piercing sound of his new paint job filing against the rough concrete.

"Damn nerd. You think you're better than me, huh? Tryin' to get her attention, you know she prefers me." Bakugo's grin never seemed to go away, swerving his car outward and just when Midoriya was about to get out of the small corner, Bakugo collied with his car again.

Midoriya's eyes glowed in the darkness. Bakugo had pushed him to his limits and sent him over the edge. Midoriya activated his nitro, pulling the custom-built lever in his car and sped off. Bakugo took this as a challenge and did the same, pulling out behind him.

The nitro kicked in, a boost of raw power gliding through Midoriya's Lamborghini. He felt the car surge forward, pulling away from Bakugo's Pagani for a short moment. But it wasn't enough. He needed to get even, to prove himself not just to the legendary people in the crowd, but to you.

He slammed his foot on the brake, taking a sharp turn into a tight corner. This was a risky maneuver, known only to a few seasoned racers who frequented this track. It was a shortcut, a notoriously dangerous shortcut. He gritted his teeth, steering with white-knuckled accuracy, pushing the car to its absolute limit.

"Think you can outrun me, Deku?" Bakugo's voice crackled over the race's communication system, laced with a sickening amusement. "You're just a useless nobody trying to impress a girl with a fancy car."

Midoriya ignored the taunt, focusing on the road ahead. His green eyes narrowed in concentration as he navigated the narrow passage, the concrete walls a blur on either side. Bakugo wasn't wrong. The car was a gift from his mother, a way to prove himself worthy, not just to you, but to everyone who doubted him. And a part of him hoped, a foolish part, that maybe, just maybe, winning this race, getting noticed by the heroes, would get your attention.

Suddenly, a flash of orange emerged from the tunnel and bright headlights blinded Midoriya's sight momentarily, causing him to slow down.

Bakugo, with a daredevil's audacity, had followed him through the treacherous shortcut. The space was barely wide enough for one car, let alone two.

"Where the hell d'ya think you're going, Deku?" Bakugo roared, his voice distorted by all of the wind rushing past them.

Midoriya slammed on the brakes again, the tires screeching in protest as he tried to create space. But Bakugo, fueled by his own competitive fire, nudged his car closer, forcing Midoriya towards the wall.

"Don't play dirty, Kacchan!" Midoriya screamed back, his voice tight with anger. "This is about proving myself!"

Bakugo laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Proving yourself? You're a fuckin' joke, Deku. Always have been, always will be. Y/n knows who the real winner is, and it ain't you."

The taunt, the obvious and continuous disregard for his feelings, snapped something inside Midoriya. A force of raw power, possessed by anger and a desperate need to prove everyone, especially Bakugo wrong, coursed through him.

Ignoring the warning lights flashing on his dashboard, Midoriya slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The car, overloaded with power, lurched forward, a blur of green against the night.

Bakugo, caught off guard by the sudden burst of speed, swerved to avoid collision with an upcoming wall. He clipped the side of a stray tire left behind by another racer, sending his own car spinning out of control.

"Fuck, Bakugo! Get yourself in control!" you screamed as you watched the swerving car from the live on your phone. Midoriya's car was long gone and when you looked up, there it was, lunging at an impossible speed towards the finish line.

Hesitantly, you waved the flag, signalling others that Midoriya Izuku, had indeed won the race.

Bakugo's car pulled up shortly after and you, Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, Mina and Jirou rushed towards the smoking piece of metal.

"Bakubro! You good?" Kirishima called out, ripping the smashed door open with pure strength and hauled the unconscious blonde out.

You dropped to your knees. '"No, no, no, no... Bakugo..." you placed his head on your lap, running your fingers through his hair as the rest of the group worked on cleaning up whatever nasty wound he had.

Your fingers brushed against his forehead and face, rubbing off whatever soot was on it. A groan pulled you out from your worries. "Bakugo!" you gasped in relief. "You're alive!"

The blonde opened his eyes, adjusting it to the lighting and was met with an orange blur above him.

"Course I am, shortcakes, why wouldn't I be?" he asked and he slowly rose, leaning on your body for support while everyone told him to take it easy.

You looked up at the huge crowd that was formed around Midoriya. Of course that asshole doesn't care. You continued rubbing soothing shapes into Bakugo's rough palm as tears welled up in your eyes.

"Don't do that again, Kugo. You scared me." you muttered to him, surprising him with the nickname. He chuckled, his body causing yours to vibrate.

Suddenly, Midoriya walked up to you, having brushed off the crowd who now watched from a distance.

"Y/n, listen-" he began but was cut short by your annoyed voice. "Stop. Don't say anything, Deku." you seethed, as the people around you began to whisper among themselves.

"Look at what you did to him! Look at what you did... to me." you looked up at him with clumps of tears in your eyes, rolling down your face and smearing your mascara, and a pang went through his heart. "You almost killed him." you continued, shaking your head.

"Y/n, I didn-" he tried again but flinched when you screamed, "Shut up!"

Shame burned in his gut, hotter than the engine of his car. He hadn't meant to cause this, hadn't meant to frighten you. He just wanted you to be impressed. You weren't.

With all of this commotion, people around you were silent. You grumbled, asking Kirishima for help with Bakugo, who was promising to take you out when he could function properly. The redhead happily complied, sending a glare to Miforiya as he lifted Bakugo onto his back and walked away. Mina tossed you one of Bakugo's hoodies and pulled your hand away when you hauled the cinnamon smelling article over your head. It landed at your thigh but it was so comfortable, giving you warmth against the coldness of the night.

Midoriya stood there, alone as the people around him continued to pester him even more.

He might have won the race, but Bakugo had won your heart and there was nothing he could do about it.

A few hours later, when he went back to his apartment and settled in bed, hoping to wake up the next day and say that it was all a bad dream, his phone blew up like crazy, messages and tags from every social media app.

He typed in his password groggily and clicked on Instagram, where some of his fans had tagged him under a couple pictures. His eyes widened when he clicked on the first one.

"Like, can I ride with you? @.Katsuki.Bakugo"

It was the picture that you had taken just before the race, your shiny lips forming into a pout as you raised the phone high enough to capture the entire background.

Swiping to the other picture, it was you, sitting next to Bakugo on a hospital bed. The carmine-eyed male sending the camera two middle fingers as you held up a peace sign. His stomach was naseous. How could you like someone like him? I mean out of all people?

"Or, let me ride on you👀 @.Katsuki.Bakugo"

Disdainfully, he swiped on the last picture, and it was one of you and Bakugo's hands intertwined. He read the last caption with anger and jealousy.

"My number one. @.Katsuki.Bakugo"

Taglist!

@effy-2000, @zmbiedoll, @lovra974, @burntlvr, @anjodedesgostoeerrossgosto

[verstappensrealwife]

My Race Winner - Lando Norris x Reader

fluff, smut.

approx. 1200 words

warnings: sex...

lando norris masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

Your knuckles turned bone-white as you clutched your fists tightly, the intensity of your grip a physical manifestation of the emotions churning within. From the moment Lando, your cherished boyfriend, surged into the lead, you became ensnared in a whirlwind of hope and apprehension, clinging to the edge of your seat with bated breath.

With each passing moment, the gap between Lando and his competitor, Max Verstappen, widened, a visceral testament to his dominance on the track. What began as a slender one-second advantage burgeoned into a nerve-jangling two, then three... until the chasm yawned wide, stretching to an agonizing eight seconds between Max and the man you held dear.

Every heartbeat echoed like a drumroll in your chest, each pulse a relentless reminder of the stakes riding on this race. You poured every ounce of your being into willing Lando onward, a silent prayer uttered with every fervent beat of your heart, beseeching the racing gods for his triumph.

Anticipation coiled like a serpent in your belly, mingling with the icy tendrils of fear that threatened to ensnare your thoughts. As the final lap unfurled before your eyes, you were ensconced in a maelstrom of emotions, caught in the tumultuous currents of exhilaration and trepidation.

Every turn of the track became a crucible of tension, each corner a crucible where hopes soared and fears faltered. The harsh mixture of roaring engines and screeching tires filled the air, a symphony of speed and adrenaline that reverberated through your very soul.

With every twist and bend of the circuit, you felt yourself teetering on the precipice of ecstasy and despair, the line between victory and defeat blurring in the haze of adrenaline-fueled passion. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, time stretching and warping as you clung to the edge of your seat, consumed by the drama unfolding before you.

But then, in a blaze of glory, Lando surged across the finish line, his victory a triumphant crescendo that shattered the tension like a thunderclap. HE JUST WON!

A primal roar of jubilation erupted from your lips, an explosion of unbridled joy that reverberated through the air. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the fact that the love of your life had emerged victorious, his triumph a beacon of light in the darkness.

As Lando leaped from his car, his victory celebrated by the crowd and his team, his gaze sought yours amidst the chaos. Tears of pride and elation welled in your eyes as you watched him, your heart swelling with love and admiration. Without hesitation, you rushed into his arms, the force of your embrace nearly toppling him over as you enveloped him in a fervent hug.

"You won!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling with emotion as you held him close.

"I did!" he replied, his own excitement mirroring yours as he returned your embrace with equal intensity.

A squeal of delight escaped you before you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "I'll let you have your way with me later, race winner." The promise hung in the air, charged with the electricity of anticipation, before you whisked him away for further celebrations before the podium.

The adrenaline rush of victory still surged through Lando's veins as he practically bounded down the stairs after the podium ceremony, his eagerness palpable as he urged you towards the awaiting taxi with an infectious enthusiasm. The thrill of triumph painted his features with a radiant glow, his eyes alight with anticipation for the intimacy that awaited you both at home.

Efficiently dismissing and thanking everyone who congratulated him, Lando took your hand in his, leading you out of the bustling venue and into the waiting taxi. Each step seemed charged with anticipation, the air electric with the promise of the passionate reunion that awaited you both.

As the taxi pulled away from the venue, the city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of colours, the world outside transformed into a mesmerizing tapestry of motion. Inside the cab, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation, every moment stretching out into infinity as you both eagerly anticipated the intimate moments you would share behind closed doors.

The journey felt like an eternity, each passing second marked by the pounding of your heart and the soft hum of the taxi's engine. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you stole glances at each other, the tension between you palpable as the anticipation mounted with each passing mile.

Finally, you arrived home, the key card in hand trembling with anticipation as you fumbled to unlock the door. With a click, the door swung open, revealing the familiar haven of your shared sanctuary bathed in warm, welcoming light.

Stepping inside, the world outside fell away, replaced by the sanctuary of your private retreat. The air was heavy with anticipation as you found yourselves locked in a passionate embrace, the heat of your desire igniting like a flame between you.

Clothes were shed with reckless abandon, discarded in a trail leading to the bedroom where you both collapsed onto the bed, consumed by the urgency of your longing. In that intimate space, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the outside world fading into insignificance as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

His touch was like a bolt of lightning, each caress sending delicious shivers cascading down your spine, igniting a symphony of sensation that reverberated through every fibre of your being. With tender reverence, he explored every inch of your body, his hands tracing a map of desire as he worshipped you with an intensity that stole your breath away.

Each kiss was a flame, fuelling the inferno of passion that blazed between you, igniting a wildfire of longing that threatened to consume you both. In the heat of the moment, time seemed to lose all meaning, the world fading into insignificance as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

With deliberate slowness, he entered you, savouring the exquisite sensation of your bodies melding together in a seamless union of flesh and spirit. Each thrust was a declaration of love, a testament to the deep connection that bound you together, the rhythm building to a crescendo of ecstasy that left you both trembling with longing and breathless with desire.

You were a babbling mess, not knowing how to speak, what to say if you could, it was a lot and it was overwhelmingly sensual and passionate.

Orgasm after orgasm washed over you, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep you away in a sea of bliss. In that transcendent moment, there was no past, no future, only the blissful present of being together, lost in the rapture of shared passion.

As he collapsed against you, spent and breathless, you cradled him close, cherishing the weight of his body against yours. With a tender smile, you brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, gazing into his eyes filled with love and satisfaction.

"My race winner," you whispered softly, your voice a tender caress as you held him close. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, you knew that you were home, your hearts beating as one in perfect harmony, a silent affirmation of the love and joy you shared in that tender moment of afterglow.

[zvaigzdelasas]

You can’t buy the Seagull in the US. But I bet you wish you could.

A small hatchback around the size of a Mini Cooper, the Seagull is a fast-charging electric car and claims a range of up to 250 miles [...] BYD, its Chinese manufacturer, claims it can go from 30 percent to 80 percent charged in a half-hour using a DC plug. It’s hardly a luxury car but it’s well-equipped, with a power driver’s seat and cruise control. “If I were looking for an inexpensive commuter car … this would be perfect,” veteran car journalist John McElroy said after taking a drive.

The best part? Its base model costs about $10,700 in China.

That’s about a third of the cost of the cheapest EV you can buy in the US. In South America, it’s a little pricier, but still fairly affordable, at under $24,000 for a top-trim version. Even in Europe, you can get an entry-level BYD for under €30,000. These are absolutely screaming deals — exactly the kind of products that could turbocharge our transition away from gas and toward electric vehicles.[...]

The problem for Americans? The Biden administration is hell-bent on preventing you from buying BYD’s product, and if Donald Trump returns to office, he is likely to fight it as well.

That’s because the BYD cars are made in China, and both Biden and Trump are committed to an ultranationalist trade policy meant to keep BYD’s products out. [...] Shipments to Europe have increased astronomically; Chinese companies sold 0.5 percent of EVs in Europe in 2019 but they’re already over 9 percent as of last year. Companies like BYD make cheap, reasonably good-quality cars people are eager to buy.

In 2018, Trump imposed, and Biden has since continued, a special 25 percent tax on Chinese-made autos, on top of the ordinary 2.5 percent tax on foreign-made cars.

That has so far prevented BYD and its Chinese peers from trying to enter the US market. US customer tastes are different enough that Chinese manufacturers would probably prefer to make cars tailored to them — but US policy has been so hostile toward cheap Chinese EVs that so far, the companies haven’t wanted to bother.

So, the result is that we’re left out of the bounty of cheap EV options created by BYD and others. “If you’re a consumer right now, the best place to be right now is China, because you have the best choice of EVs,” Ilaria Mazzocco, senior fellow at the Center for Strategic and International Studies and an expert on Chinese EVs, says.[...]

Still, China’s price advantage is big enough that even the extreme Trump-Biden import tax might not be enough to deter companies like BYD from entering the US market. Even with the tariffs, Chinese cars might be cheaper than their rivals. “​​Subsidies most likely won’t be enough; Mr. Biden will need to impose [more] trade restrictions,” climate journalist Robinson Meyer predicted recently. The Biden administration is already making noise about imposing even more draconian taxes or trade restrictions against these vehicles. Commerce Secretary Gina Raimondo has described Chinese-made cars as a national security threat, and recently announced an investigation into the vehicles’ data collection abilities and the possibility they could send movement data to Beijing.

On the one hand, Biden is offering Americans up to $7,500 per vehicle to buy EVs (provided they meet certain made-in-North America rules). On the other hand, he’s imposing massive taxes to keep Americans from buying EVs. It’s a bizarre policy that makes no sense from a climate perspective.[...]

[The Biden Administration] has proven shockingly willing to sabotage its own climate policy if it gets to stick it to the Chinese in the process.

“There’s almost an across-the-board apprehension about Chinese EVs, even though they would make an important contribution to [lower] CO2 emissions,” Gary Clyde Hufbauer, a veteran trade expert at the Peterson Institute for International Economics, says.[...]

Realistically, Helveston argues, BYD might not sell something like the Seagull in the US because it’s smaller than most cars Americans buy. They’d probably build plants in the US instead, or its free-trade zone partners Canada and Mexico, to build vehicles tailored for Americans. “If you’re going to really enter a market, you have to make it locally,” Helveston explains. “US automakers like GM sell and make millions of cars in China to sell in China.” BYD would do the same. Indeed, it’s already reportedly scouting sites for factories in Mexico.

If they ever were to set up shop in North America, BYD and other Chinese car companies would still have a major price advantage versus American EVs. They have years more experience and a much more successful track record of building batteries and EVs at low cost.

“Part of why they’re so successful is they’ve been thinking outside the box on cost reduction for a long time,” Mazzocco says. They took the “opposite of the Tesla approach”: starting not with luxury vehicles but ultra-cheap cars fit for taxi fleets and not much else, and constantly improving their early inexpensive prototypes. The result is that Chinese firms have gotten extremely good at making inexpensive EVs, at a time when Ford, by contrast, lost $28,000 for every EV it sold in 2023.[...]

“If you have more affordable EVs in the United States, no matter where you come from,” Gopal says, “that’s better for the climate.”

Still, the Biden administration reportedly wants to restrict Chinese car companies’ access to the US even if they do set up shop in North America. Bloomberg reported earlier this month that the Biden administration is formulating rules that would limit US sales of Chinese-made parts, even if they’re in vehicles ultimately assembled in the US or Mexico.[...]

But the Biden administration’s objections to Chinese EVs are also ideological. The Biden administration represents the victory of a protectionist, trade-skeptical wing of the Democratic party that was relegated to the sidelines during the Clinton and Obama years.[...]

[O]ver 90 percent of American households have a car, and surging car prices were a huge contributor to the 2021–2023 rise in inflation.

Barriers to importing cheap cars make inflation worse and reduce the real incomes of the middle class.

Not only are the administration and other left-leaning institutions opposed to Chinese EVs, but hardline conservatives at places like the Heritage Foundation are calling for outright bans on Chinese EVs as well. Their rationale is security, another theme the Biden administration evokes often. On Thursday, the Commerce Department announced it was beginning a process to “investigate the national security risks of … PRC-manufactured technology in [internet-connected] vehicles.”

6 Mar 24