#nascar x reader

[rustedhearts]

Raise Hell (Nascar!Steve x fem!reader)

summary: nascar driver steve harrington is a hot mess. literally. but when he keeps coming into your diner, staggeringly drunk and adorable, you can’t help but grow fond of him.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

hot wheels masterlist main masterlist

tags: nascar!steve, reader is referred to as ‘bunny,’ just fluff and flirting.

author’s note: i don’t know much about the mechanics of nascar because i’m more of a formula one fan, so some of the racing terms/descriptions might seem a bit more f1. sorry!

raise hell, praise…harrington?

talladega, alabama, summer 1995

In Talladega, a girl’s got two things to be: a country beauty queen, or stuck at her high school job. Stupid or stuck. You were stuck—specifically, stuck balancing trays of sweet teas and cokes, and burning your palms on the underside of steaming hot burgers and flapjacks. Stuck in the same stupid powder blue uniform and frilly lace apron you’d been swearing since you were seventeen. Sometimes, you started to wonder if you were no longer stuck—just plain stupid.

But two years ago, Nascar saw a new face on the tracks: one Steve Harrington. Donned ‘Pretty Boy’ for his princely good looks and boyish charm, he burned rubber like nobody’s business, and Alabama’s been in an uproar ever since. You normally didn’t welcome midwestern men with such open and loving arms in a place like this, but as the folks say: he’s one of us, honey.

And one of you he became. He even had the slight slur of a southern twang to prove it, and you came to hear it firsthand when he sat at the end of your counter one night last October, bleary-eyed and pink-cheeked.

“What can I get you, Hot Wheels?” You hadn’t meant for the name to slip, but once it was out there, you couldn’t take it back.

Luckily, Steve just laughed. Slumped on his palm, draped over the counter full of old crumbs and sticky syrup, he pointed toward a laminated menu beside him.

“You guys sell fries?”

You gave him a basket of hot, golden french fries fresh out of the fryer, salted to perfection by yours truly. When Steve saw them sitting in front of him, practically overflowing in their red plastic, newspaper-lined confines, his eyes got huge. He devoured the basket in five minutes flat. You turned your back to clean the coffee pot, and when you went to check on him, offer a glass of water to rouse him from drunken stupor, he was gone.

Sitting in his empty, grease-splattered basket were two hundred dollar bills. It’s still the largest tip you’ve ever gotten on such a small bill to date (or…on any bill).

When Steve Harrington stopped by the diner, you went home with a thicker wallet, a swollen heart, and a burning blush on your face.

You always heard his arrival before you saw his face. The smooth, low grumble of his Ferrari engine. His headlights blared through the blinds on the diner windows, whipping with effortless expertise into the front spot near the door. The headlights cut off, and moments later the door chimed as his lean figure stumbled through.

Designer sneakers scuffing the floor, black leather racing jacket with endorsement patches ironed on neat gleaming beneath the white fluorescents of the diner. He smelled like gasoline and boozy cologne—or maybe that was just the booze. Steve's favorite bar was just up the road: a swanky wood-paneled joint with a mechanical bull, and girls just out of college in skimpy denim shorts and leather cowboy boots. He always left with pink-tinged cheeks and a sway in his step, and though you disapproved of getting behind the wheel under the influence, you didn't mind that he raced all the way here just to get to you.

Tonight, like every night, he strode straight toward the counter and took his seat on a squeaky metal stool at the end.

He patted the counter, shot a finger gun at you, and smiled a half-cocked grin. "Hey, pretty girl."

Cheeks blazing, you rolled your eyes as you collected the coffee pot—freshly brewed just for him—and his basket of sizzling, golden fries. You placed the fries in front of him and flipped over a porcelain mug, pouring a steady stream until it pooled around the rim. No room for cream or sugar: how Steve liked it best. He was already five fries in by the time you placed the coffee pot back.

"Hey, Hot Wheels. Catch anythin' good tonight?"

Elbows pressed against the counter, you leaned over the stack of sticky menus and extra ketchup bottles to flash him your sweetest smile. You always laid it on real thick for guys like him. None of 'em tipped like Steve did, and none of 'em were nearly as handsome. None of 'em made you laugh like Steve did. Jesus, how stupid was that?

"Nothin' worth bringin' home, Bun," Steve sighed, head falling to his palm as his fingers made quick work of delivering fries straight to his mouth.

"Better luck next time." You shrugged, though you knew what this game was.

"No," Steve mused, eyes narrowed with a twinkle of mockery, lips coated in shiny grease and flecks of salt. "No, I don't think so. Know who I'd love to take out, though?"

You pulled away from the counter, that familiar flutter in your chest. You reached for the damp rag previously soaked in lemon sanitizing spray, wiping at the crumbs behind the counter. Steve always came in right when you were closing up. The first time he stumbled in, you threatened to kick him out, but something about those stupid puppy dog eyes and that sly, halfway smile made you stop. You always agreed to close on weekends, just to stay back and clean up after the strays and Steve Harrington. The diner was quiet, only the buzz of old lights and the distant whoosh of cars on the road keeping you company until he appeared.

"Who?" you asked, eyes flicking his way as he munched on his fries. The newspaper in his basket crinkled with his eager snatching.

Steve lifted his head, movements slow and bleary, and in your periphery, you could see it follow your every motion. His jacket made his shoulders look broad and big. You could smell the cigarette remnants still on his hands when you moved in front of him again.

"Come on, Bun," he huffed, that poor, sweet attempt at an Alabama drawl clinging to every word. The way he said your given nickname made your heart squeeze.

"Come on, what?" You flashed him a smile, pursed lips and scrunched nose, and he shook his head amusedly at it. He thought you were so beautiful, even in this ridiculous 1950s getup, hair frazzled and face gleaming with heat.

"When are you gonna let me take you out, sweetheart?" he pouted, hand bumping his empty, grease-stained basket when he dropped it to the counter.

Though your insides were stirring and the back of your neck felt like someone was giving it a pinch, you spun on your heel and reached for the coffee pot again, feigning an air of cool ease. You never wanted a man to have the upper hand on you, no matter how pretty that man might be. Your daddy taught you better than that.

Pressing close to the counter, you held the pot midway in the air, hovering, and caught Steve's eye. His were all whiskey brown and muddy green, more hazel than anything. It was only at this moment that you heard the Willie Nelson song humming on the jukebox in the corner. His lips parted when your eyes narrowed, catlike and dreamily charming.

You inched closer, leaning in like you were fixing to whisper a secret. "When you come in sober, Mr. Harrington."

You topped off his untouched coffee, placed the pot back, and sashayed toward the tables to wipe them down (for the second time tonight). Behind you at the counter, Steve gnawed on his lip, head tipping to admire the backs of your thighs where they caught the plump flesh of your ass beneath your shorts. He scoffed to himself, snatching the mug thrumming with heat, slurping at the potent black liquid.

If sober was what you wanted, sober you would get.

♡ ♡

Nascar was always on channel two, and when your manager Rod was working, he insisted on playing it on the tiny television behind the counter. He paced between the office in the sticky kitchen and the space behind the counter, munching on peanuts and sipping a jumbo Pepsi from the morning.

"Rod, maybe you should have somethin' else to eat." You whooshed a platter of burgers and fries over his head as you rushed toward your table.

"Nah, I'm waitin' for that-that Harrin'ton kid to come on," he excused, motioning toward the tv with a salted peanut palm.

You bit back a grin, sliding the plates onto the table for your eager customers. Wiping your hands on your apron, you headed back to the counter and leaned on the other side.

"What, excited to watch his engine crap out again?” you teased, giggling at Rod’s offended expression before flouncing off toward the kitchen for your break.

“That kid might not be from here, but he’s one of us now, Bunny!” Rod called after you, accent thick and slurred loose.

You waved a hand, eyes rolling. “Why d’ you think I give him such a hard time, Rod?”

You heard his hoarse chuckle as you hopped up on the empty steel tabletop in the kitchen, snatching a soggy fry from a half-empty basket. The cooks all murmured about a table that sent back a burger (there’s always one), and asked you about your shift today. The occasional ‘how are the kids,’ and ‘your garden holding up well in this heat?’ ensued, but most of them knew that when you had a moment to yourself back here, you preferred it in silence.

Billy, a line cook a few years older than yourself, whizzed by with a greasy silver spatula and a plate of perfect, crispy grilled cheese. He slipped it onto your lap as he passed, eye dropping in a wink, before he returned to the grill. You grinned in thanks, picking up the warm, shiny sandwich.

You were halfway through the first triangular slice when a holler jolted you on the table. You dropped the slice, rushing to place the plate on the table and skitter into the dining room again. Head whipping around, you searched for some sort of disaster—a hurt child, a choking customer—and found Rod screaming at the television, red-faced and glistening with sweat.

Huffing, you collapsed against the counter. “Rod, what the hell?”

Rod didn’t tear his eyes away from the television as he smacked his hands together. “Aw, come on! His car’s crappin’ out, he’s gon’ have t’ leave the race.”

You shifted toward the television, preparing to scoff at the urgency of Rod’s statement when sparks skidded over the track on the screen. Even in their pixelated form, the sparks were bright and sharp as a firework on independence day. You watched the cherry red car bounce, jostling the driver inside—clear cause for a biting backache. The car veered left, then right, then toward the off track where Steve stopped it.

Rod cursed, slapping his knee and shaking his head.

“Got-damnit,” he shrilled, easing up from the stool. “When’re they gonna put ‘im in a car that actually drives?”

Rolling your eyes and attempting to ignore the ball of worry the size of Texas aching in your chest, you slid away from the counter and headed back toward the kitchen where your food waited.

“When are you gonna get t’ work, Rod?”

“Eh.”

♡ ♡

That night, you soaked the linoleum in lemon cleaner and scrubbed at the vinyl booths, lights dimmed to keep customer count low until you actually closed. Rod left a few hours ago, and only a handful of cooks lingered in the back, shooting the shit and sharing smokes. You liked having the dining room to yourself while you closed up, humming along the radio and watching the road through the windows. You fantasized about a life with enough money to never wipe a table again.

Given the day he had on the track, the last person you expected to see that night was Steve Harrington. So when the door chimed open and shoes squeaked across the freshly-cleaned tile, you whirled around with a customer-approved smile in preparation for a sweet but curt “we’re about to close.” However, the customer service facade dimmed at the sight of that familiar pretty face and those colorful ironed-on insignias.

“Hey, Bun.” He sounded breathless and beat.

"Hey," you squeaked, dumbfounded by the sight of him.

The outline of his helmet still sat on his face: aggravated red lines indented around his eyes, across his cheeks and nose. His hands, Ferrari-red and raw, trembled as they swept through his tousled hair. "Mind if I sit, Bun? Long day."

Which is how he ended up slumped in a clean booth, head of slick locks thumped against the glass. It felt odd to see him in an actual seat instead of his usual at the bar, but he needed the rest. You could only imagine the sort of strain a car going 200 miles an hour while jerking around had on someone.

You slipped into the kitchen, and with a meek and quiet plead, had the cooks make one last batch of fries fresh for Steve before they left. Just enough for the driver to get his strength back up and feel at home again. The fried pile of grease glistened and sizzled in their plastic confinement on the way out of the kitchen, a cold glass of Pepsi fizzing in your other hand.

You brought them to the man still drooped in the furthest booth, head tipping to find his eyes. "Steve?"

"Hmm?" Blearily, the racer sat upright and blinked at you.

Flashing him a fond smile, you pushed the basket of fries closer to him. "Food."

"Oh."

He munched on the crispy golden potatoes for a while in silence. The back door clinked with the absence of cooks. You thought about getting up to flip the sign over to 'sorry we're closed!' but you couldn't find it in yourself to leave the table. Eventually, you slid into the booth across from him and watched him eat. He sucked down the Pepsi through a striped straw like a toddler gulping apple juice.

"Why did you come here tonight? I mean...you're in no shape, Hot Wheels," you remarked, watching him rub his fingers free of salt.

Steve's eyes flickered toward you below his brows, chin tipped toward his food. He straightened up when he saw you watching, giving his shoulders a shrug. He smelled like scorched rubber, gasoline, and a bit of bourbon-whisky.

"Had a shit day," he muttered, eyes returning to his fries with urgency. "Knew seein’ you would cheer me up."

A flutter disrupted the rhythm thumping in your chest. You felt it in your throat, too, settling like indigestion. You swallowed harshly to clear it away, easing the wonderment in your face with a little grin. Steve went back to finishing the thin strips of fry remnants sitting at the bottom of his basket.

Stripped free of liquored charm and that 'pretty boy' suave, Steve Harrington actually seemed...sweet.

"Hey, Hot Wheels?"

Steve looked up, lips glassy with grease. "Yeah?"

"You can take me on that date now."

♡ ♡

[eddiesghxst]

a very big thank you to my bby @mmunson86 bc she listens and entertains all of my random ass bursts of inspo and helped me decipher the plot to these two babies (and many many others hehe), ilysm stinky 🤍

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: older!NASCAR driver!eddie munson x pop singer!reader

summary: Eddie's a famous former NASCAR driver who now does paint jobs for celebrities, and you just so happen to need a paint job

contains: oral (f receiving), banter, flirting, and eddie being head over heels for reader <3

word count: 2k

| nascar!eddie x pop singer!reader masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Thursday is Eddie’s favorite day.

One more day til the weekend, things are slow at the shop, and Bug, the detailer, usually pays for lunch. So, Eddie’s usually pretty fucking happy on Thursday— usually. However, it’s hard to be happy when you wake up to a music video of a famous pop singer crashing the car you’d just spent weeks working on.

Now, Eddie’s all for creativity and expressing art in different forms of destruction, but it’s hard to see the art in smashing a brand new McLaren, freshly painted and detailed by none other than Eddie Munson himself. Sure, you paid for it, so it’s basically a waste of your money, but it’s also a waste of Eddie’s time and work.

“Turn this song off, Bug,” Eddie grumbles from under his mask, focused on spraying fine lines of paint onto the car in front of him. It’s your song.  The song that you’d smashed Eddie’s car into smithereens for. That being said, even if Eddie is utterly and incredibly displeased with how you’d decided to treat Eddie’s hard work, his heart skips a beat when he hears the familiar tone of your voice, “You don’t like my music, Munson?”

Eddie pauses his task, blinking a few times to clear the possibility of the paint fumes finally getting to his head and making him hallucinate. And if Eddie’s hallucinating, then his brain is quite vivid because the click of your heels is drawing closer and closer with the smell of your sweet perfume.

Eddie puts the spray gun back on the cart next to him and stands up, facing you as you approach him. Eddie sighs, tipping his head to the side as he removes his gloves. This isn’t the first time he’s met you; no, he met you when he dropped the car off at your film set. You were kind and soft-spoken, with a pretty smile and voice that made Eddie’s chest erupt in butterflies he hadn’t felt in years. You were gorgeous then, and you’re gorgeous now, standing in front of him with that sinister little glint in your eyes.

You’re a pretty young thing, that much is obvious, but it doesn’t negate the fact that you crashed Eddie’s car.

“How can I help you, doll?”

You smile, tipping your head as you watch Eddie remove the mask from his face, tossing it onto the tool cart along with the disposable gloves. “Need a paint job for my new car. Wanted the best in town.” You sweetly say.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, “A paint job?”

You blink up at Eddie, pretty eyes and cute lashes batting up at him. God, you’re perfect. It's no wonder why the entire world is head over heels in love with you.

“You crashed my car, honey.” Eddie points out.

Your hopeful gaze falters then, lips dipping into a ghost of a frown, “It wasn’t my idea.” You respond. “You crashed my car. For a music video,” he drawls, “Do you know how much time I spent on that car?”

Bug seems to take that as his cue to leave because suddenly he’s tossing his tool in his toolbox and calling over his shoulder, “Goin’ to lunch, boss.” And there goes Eddie’s free lunch.

A flash of guilt passes through your eyes before you huff with a roll of your eyes, shifting to lean on one foot as you cross your arms over your chest, “It wasn’t your car.” 

“It’s got my work written all over it.”

“Again, it wasn’t my idea.”

Eddie tilts his head, lips pouting as he shrugs mockingly, in a way. “But you went with it.”

Eddie had been slowly walking you backward across the empty garage, pressing and pressing until you reached his parked car, your body coming to a sudden stop with a hitch in your breath. You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes for the second time, “Well, I was filming a music video. I just do what they tell me to and look pretty— it’s kind of my job, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s eyes fall to your lips for a split second.

You lick your lips, cocking your head to the side as you gaze up at him, “Obviously.”

Eddie’s lips twitch like he wants to smile, a smirk lingering in his tone as he mocks you, “Obviously.”

“You really don’t like my music?”

You feel like you’re losing your mind. Not only are you standing in the famous Munson’s Paint & Body garage, but you’re standing face to face with the Eddie Munson— famous former NASCAR driver and hot as fuck body man.

It’s like all those Sundays you spent back in high school watching him race as your dad bet money with his friends on who would win are flashing before your eyes. Okay, so you’re fangirling a little bit; who wouldn’t? It’s Eddie fucking Munson.

“Never said I didn’t like your music; I just don’t like the fact that you crashed my car.”

And well, you feel bad. You didn’t know the car would get hurled off a cliff in the middle of the California desert, but it was a little late to protest against that when it was flying through the wind at 90 miles per hour with literal flames decorating the wheels.

“I’m sorry,” you finally apologize. “I shouldn’t have let them destroy your car… which was technically my car for my music video.” You and Eddie share a playful gaze, but it’s soon overthrown with something lustful when Eddie reaches out, fingers toying with the waistband of your denim skirt. “You’re playing with fire, princess.” He lowly says.

You hum, tipping your head as he towers over you, bodies pressing against one another as you dance along the edge of the thick line of tension, “Wanna do something about it?” A sly smirk and glinting brown eyes have you weak in the knees, your body heating up like a fucking furnace as the man silently gazes at you. 

It’s like the spread of wildfire when he presses his lips against yours, a warm hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses you against the hood of his car. Your skirt is short, and it rides up when he maneuvers you further up the hood. You let out a shaky breath against his lips when the cool metal of the car meets the hot skin of your thighs.

You’d be lying if you hadn’t somewhat come here with the intention of getting your hands on the handsome older man— there’s no denying there was some kind of energy bouncing between the two of you when you briefly met him on the set of your music video. Eddie’s got a way of looking at you with daring yet respectful eyes that make you want to pounce— he had it then when you first met, and he has it now.

He’s pawing at you like he’s addicted, big hands grasping at your sides as he practically devours you. It’s sloppy and wet and so fucking addicting you wish you didn’t have to breathe so you could just keep kissing him.

He’s slinking his hands down to your thighs, hooking them into the crooks of your knees and pressing them up, spreading you wide for him as he kisses down your neck. He reaches one hand up, tugging down at your shirt to give him room to mark the swell of your breasts. Your breath hitches when your bare nipple meets the cool air, and he laves his tongue over it, “W-what about— fuck.” You whimper as Eddie hums, kissing further down your body and fully pushing up your denim skirt to mouth at your thighs. You press your thighs closer together, pressing up onto your elbows to gaze down at Eddie as he kneels between your legs.

“What about your employees?” You ask.

Eddie mouths at your thigh, kneading at the fat of your skin as he speaks, “Just me and Bug today. Open up, baby.” His brown eyes are like swirling hypnotic pools, and your body moves in accord with his directions, thighs parting to show him the damp material of your flimsy panties.

Eddie groans, leaning forward to drag his tongue up the damp spot before gently nipping at the material. He’s impatient, so he only hooks his thumb in the hem of the cotton and hooks it off to the side, keeping it pinned beneath his thumb so he has full access to your dripping cunt. He doesn’t waste time, laving his tongue from your opening up to your clit, teasingly running the tip of his tongue in circles over your sensitive bud just to hum at the pitiful whimpers and whines that escape your mouth. 

Your eyes roll when he closes his mouth around your clit, sucking and licking and teasing until you’re fully moaning, reaching down to thread your fingers into his curly locks, knuckles curling at the root to gently tug him deeper into your cunt.

“Yeah, yeah,” He breathes, “Fuck my face, princess, there we go.” It’s so wet, his voice, so wet and eager and mind-numbingly gorgeous.

He teases two thick fingers at your entrance before sinking them into you and curling them in a come hither motion. Your legs twitch to close around his head, “Oh, fuck. Fuck, Eddie, I’m so close.”

You’re teetering on the edge, heat brewing in your lower tummy as Eddie devours you like it’ll be his last fucking meal. The lights overhead are bright, and there’s heavy metal playing from the shop speakers. Still, all you can bring yourself to focus on is the sinful drag of Eddie’s tongue up and down the entirety of your cunt, sticky strings of arousal and spit smearing all over your thighs and his face, and your moans increase in volume when he slinks a hand up to squeeze at your chest.

His fingers are gentle yet overwhelming as they pet at your sensitive spot, and before you know it, you’re body is tensing, and you’re coming around his thick digits, soaking his chin as you fail to keep your thighs open and sounds to a minimum.

Eddie doesn’t mind, though, it seems, because he only moans and nuzzles his face deeper into your pussy, greedily licking into you like it’s his last chance— and hopefully it’s not.

You must have spaced out because, between the immense pleasure and the sinfully beautiful sight of Eddie between your thighs, you seem to only come back to earth once Eddie places your panties back over your pussy, pressing a gentle kiss to your covered and aching clit.

He snickers when you twitch in overstimulation, “You’re real cute when you cum, you know?” He says before pressing a kiss into your thigh. You huff out a laugh, leaning on your elbows to watch as he stands up to hover over you, pressing his palms into the hood of the car on either side of your blissed-out body. “Thank you?” You say. Eddie laughs, eyes twinkling with admiration as he gazes down at you.

“I’ll cut you a deal, alright?” He starts. Though your mind is still foggy with the lingering effects of your orgasm, your eyes narrow in suspicion as you tell Eddie to continue. Eddie sighs, leaning in further, “You let me take you on a date, and I’ll paint your car— I’ll also forget all about you crashing my car.”

Even if you want to point out that the car wasn’t Eddie’s, yet again, you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips as you give in and nod, “Okay. One date.”

Eddie beams, raising an eyebrow as he responds, “Yeah?” You want to lean in and kiss him, but you think the heat of the moment from before had been fuel to the boldness that you’re now lacking.

You nod before holding up your index finger, “One,” you stress, “No promises for a second. I don’t have another car for you to paint.” You joke, but Eddie only shrugs with a smug look.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got enough cars for you to last a lifetime of dates.”

[blackgirlsrxck]

Guys My Age

Lewis Hamilton x Black!Fem NASCAR Reader

Summary: What happens if the reader decides to go to her first Grand Prix? Who will she meet? What will happen?

Note: Let's face it. Lewis looks AMAZING for almost being 40. He doesn't look a day over 27. Anyways, hope you enjoy let me know what you think in the comments. :)

Word Count: 1.5k

 I've always been passionate about racing. It's been my dream since I was a little girl to become one of the best drivers of my generation. I've faced numerous challenges and obstacles along the way, but I never let them deter me from pursuing my goals.

While NASCAR has been my main focus, I've always been a huge fan of Formula 1 as well. The sport’s glamour, speed, and international appeal fascinated me. One race that stood out in my mind was the prestigious Monaco Grand Prix. The glitz and glamour associated with the event seemed like a dream, and I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to witness it firsthand. So, when I received an invitation to attend the Monaco Grand Prix as a guest, I couldn't believe my luck. It was an opportunity of a lifetime, and I eagerly packed my bags and headed to the beautiful principality.

As I arrived at the track, the excitement in the air was palpable. The sound of engines revving and the smell of burning rubber filled the atmosphere. I watched in awe as the sleek F1 cars zoomed past me, each one a marvel of engineering and speed.

Little did I know that fate had something extraordinary in store for me. As I made my way through the paddock, I caught the attention of a few drivers. There stood Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, and Daniel Riccardo. They made their way towards me. “No way am I meeting you, Y/n Y/L/N one of the greatest NASCAR drivers in this generation.” Spoke Daniel. He recognized me as one of the best drivers of my generation. I didn’t know what to say. This was so surreal to have these F1 superstars fangirling over me, a young NASCAR driver.

We quickly struck up a conversation, bonding over our shared love for racing. They invited me to join them for dinner later that evening, an opportunity I couldn't pass up. Eager to meet more of the F1 drivers and learn about their experiences, I accepted their invitation. If someone would have told me that I would be talking to some of the best drivers on the paddock and it would result in me being invited to dinner with them, I would have laughed square in their faces. This is truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I just hope they don’t pick the most expensive restaurant. Hey, I might be a race car driver, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to spend $100 on a burger that I could get for $7 at Burger King.

The race went on as usual. A few of the drivers had to DNF due to car problems. Max Verstappen ended up winning which wasn’t a shocker to anyone. Fernando Alonso P2, and a Esteban Ocon P3. I decided to make my way to my hotel to get ready for the dinner. 

The dinner took place at a luxurious restaurant overlooking the stunning Monaco harbor. By the looks of it, I would probably be paying $100 for a burger.  As I walked in, I couldn't help but feel a wave of nervousness wash over me. All the top drivers of the 2023 F1 season were present, including the legendary Lewis Hamilton, a man who had broken numerous records and established himself as one of the greatest drivers in the history of the sport. Not knowing what to do with myself, I just stood there awkwardly. Daniel finally noticed me and made his way over. 

“Y/n, I’m so glad you could make it, we saved you a seat next to Lewis,” I nodded my head and made my way to sit down. I introduce myself to everyone. A few of the drivers started to ask me questions about my career. That was until Fernando Alonso asked me how I got into NASCAR. 

“Becoming a NASCAR driver wasn't an easy journey for me. It required hard work, dedication, and a lot of determination. From a young age, I had a deep love for speed and competition, and I knew that racing was my true calling. Growing up in a small town, my exposure to motorsports was limited. However, my passion burned brightly, and I immersed myself in everything related to racing. I devoured books, watched races on TV, and even tried my hand at go-kart racing whenever I could.

As I got older, my dream of becoming a NASCAR driver became stronger. But I faced a significant hurdle – lack of representation. As a young Black woman in a predominantly white and male-dominated sport, I knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy. However, I refused to let that deter me. I started by joining local racing clubs and participating in regional competitions. Every weekend, I would head to the local tracks, ready to prove myself on the asphalt. The adrenaline rush I felt as I sat behind the wheel, the wind rushing past me, was exhilarating.

With each race, I pushed myself to the limit, fine-tuning my driving skills and honing my instincts. I learned from my mistakes, analyzing every lap and seeking guidance from seasoned racers who were willing to share their knowledge with me. But it wasn't just about my driving skills. I realized that to make it in NASCAR, I needed to be physically and mentally strong. I hit the gym, working on my endurance and building the strength required to handle the powerful machines I would eventually drive.

As I continued to race, word started to spread about my talent and determination. It wasn't long before I caught the attention of sponsors and racing teams. The opportunity I had been waiting for finally arrived when I received an invitation to join a development program for aspiring NASCAR drivers. The program pushed me to my limits, testing every aspect of my abilities. But I thrived under the pressure, constantly improving and proving myself on the track. The hard work paid off when I secured a spot on a NASCAR team as a rookie driver.

My NASCAR journey had officially begun. I faced challenges along the way, both on and off the track. There were moments of self-doubt when the weight of the industry's expectations felt overwhelming. But I refused to let those moments define me. I pushed through, determined to break down barriers and pave the way for future generations. I knew that my success wouldn't just be a personal victory; it would be a symbol of progress and representation in a sport that desperately needed it.

As I raced in NASCAR, I became a role model for aspiring drivers who shared my background and dreams. I aimed to inspire them, to show them that they too could break down barriers and achieve greatness. Becoming a NASCAR driver wasn't just about winning races and championships. It was about proving that dreams know no bounds, and that passion and talent could overcome any obstacle. It was about changing the face of the sport and leaving a lasting legacy for others to follow.” I see the way Lewis looked at me as I finish my story. He had this sparkle in his eye that I saw only one time before. With my ex boyfriend, before he became a douchebag. 

As I mingled with the drivers, I felt a connection with each of them. They were incredibly supportive and shared stories of their own racing journeys. Lewis, in particular, seemed intrigued by my background and accomplishments. His charisma and passion for the sport were captivating, and I found myself drawn to him in ways I hadn't expected.

Over the course of the evening, Lewis and I spent a lot of time talking. We discovered that we shared many interests outside of racing and had a similar outlook on life. Lewis talked about how he became vegan and how he eventually got his dog Roscoe on the diet. There wasn’t one thing uninteresting about him. Despite the 20-year age difference, our connection seemed undeniable. But as the night came to an end, doubts began to creep into my mind. Would our age difference become an obstacle in the pursuit of a romantic relationship? Would people judge us? Would the age gap eventually become a source of tension between us?

As I returned to my hotel room that night, my mind was filled with conflicting emotions. On one hand, I couldn't deny the feelings I had developed for Lewis. On the other hand, the practical side of me worried about the challenges we might face. I open the door to my room and make my way to the king sized mattress where I fell on. Closing my eyes, I slowly start to let myself drift to sleep, until my phone vibrated. 

It was a Instagram notification from lewis. I clicked on it to see what said. I know you felt what I felt tonight. In the two hours we’ve known eachother, I feel like we were supposed to meet. It just makes sense. We make sense. Despite the fact that  I’m old enough to be your father.  If you feel the same way meet me at room 388 in 30 minutes. -lewis <3  Was this really happening? Am I hallucinating? I think I need a drink. Besides I’m in Monaco, its legal. 

To be continued… 

[toastedkiwi]

how ‘bout a travis kelce x racer!reader 🤞🏻

Yaaaassss! She was enlisted to help prank him and a few other players by Coach Reid/The Marketing Team. She was behind the wheel while Travis and Mahomes were in the backseat. She fucking took them on a ride of a lifetime. They were holding on for dear life. And they ran out of that car once she came to a full stop at their training facility. Everyone was laughing at them. She rolled down the window and did the bold move of telling Travis (more jokingly), “call me, big boy.” And then she sped off.

[porchlightfairy]

nascar!eddie angst where Eddie and Crew Chief get into a very big fight a few days before the race and Eddie goes M.I.A. Race day comes and he is silent and does not give CC any flowers. CC talks cordially but he doesn't say anything in return. No banter or anything. Maybe he shouldn't race, she thinks.

Before she can tell him not to he's already in the car and ready to go. The race track was treacherous and any mistakes here would not go unnoticed. Eddie was doing well until another are rides his bumper and clips his backside in his blind side. He spins wide and smacks the the wall and does several flips.

Everyone jumps into action as his car turns into a fiery inferno. Eddie is pulled out into safety and is taken to the hospital. A few days later, CC goes to visit him. His uncle sits in the visitor chair while he lays in the hospital bed with a cast on his leg and one on his arm. Cuts all over his face and bandages everywhere else from the burns.

He is asleep but Wayne notices you and smiles, "When he first woke up, he was looking for ya." He gets up, "Come sit, be the first thing he sees today." He then leaves the room and lets you have time alone with Eddie.

She brought flowers and set them on the side table before sitting down in the chair. Seeing him okay eases the intensity in her heart. She hated the idea of that argument being the last genuine conversation she had with him. She grabs his non-broken hand and gives it a squeeze.

Eddie's eyes squeeze at the sensation before slowly opening them and seeing her there. He smiles, "CC you're here."

"I'm here, I'm glad you're okay. How do you feel?"

"It's not a big deal." He chuckles

"Eddie don't joke you got into a terrible accident."

"Sorry, sorry. I forget that you are such a worrywart." He smiles and looks to see the flowers she brought, "Well look at that, my good luck charm is back. You're not mad at me anymore?"

"I was never mad. Frustrated yes, but never mad." She sniffles, "God the entire time I was waiting, I was regretting that stupid fight. I never want us to stay mad like that ever. I want you to talk to me, bring me flowers, flirt with me on the radio, dammit, I pretend to hate those things but I can't live a day without them."

Eddie just stares at her as she speaks before a smile creeps on his face, "You love me, don't you?"

"Don't say it like that dummy. I love you. And I never want you to think of trying that risky move again you hear me."

"Yes ma'am." He sits up, "And I love you too."

"I know. You never shut up about it." She then leans over the bed and kisses him gently.

[2-fast-2-curious]

Do you find audios for drivers in series other than F1? Because I would kill for smut audios that sound like Chase Elliott or Austin Cindric (NASCAR) 🥺

I think you requested Austin twice so this one is for you. I've done Pato and I've done Callum so I guess it's only fair I admit that I do accept requests for other series.

[M4F] Cumming Home for Christmas

[OC] (does it need a [Secret Santa] tag?) [BFE] Gentle [MDom] [DD/lg] [Fingering] [Cunnilingus] [Daddy] [Babygirl] Shh Parents are back [Hold the Moan] [Stretching] you and [Cumming Inside] [Creampie]

Creator Reddit: u/owenscumnival

[honeyhuii]

Make My Heart Race

Sports Au, Nascar Au, Illegal Street racer Au, Journalist Au, Strangers to Lovers

Genre:Fluff, seriously don't know how i managed to not even add an ounce of angst

Pairing: NascarDriver!Xu Minghao x Journalist!Reader

Wordcount: 9.2k

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of food, illegal street racing, breaking the law, possibly wrong nascar termiology

Rating: PG-13 for swearing and breaking the law lmao

A/n: This is for the Sport Au Collab hosted by @gyukult! Thank you so much Gyu for letting me apart of this amazing collab. I made some wonderful friends and thank you to those who helped me figure out plot and which banner was better. You guys are the best! I also want to thank @sungbeam for helping me with the outline, without you I would seriously still be struggling where to go with this! I would also like to thank @heeracha for letting me use her all eyes on me line! I also hope you don't mind the awkward pov switches. I tried to space out the places when I would switch them. Also, some of the parts are purely self induldge and Hao is a bit oc...

Engines rev as they wait for the chequered flag to wave signalling the start of the race. Loud music blasted from the several cars, all of different types, but all doing the same thing…making the person behind the wheel hellbent on winning the race. One racer stood out amongst the crowd, She was notorious for winning and was one of the fastest racers Seoul has seen in years. She however, could care less about winning because she just wanted to feel the adrenaline course through her veins as she sped through the streets, she just happened to win every single time. This time was no different. She sped through the streets, turning tight corners, zooming past red lights. She just loves the thrill of racing.

You quickly looked over your outfit in the mirror in front of you, making sure it is deemed appropriate for a journalist interview. This was it. You were finally going to interview the people you’ve been dreaming of meeting. You gave yourself another look in the mirror before confidently nodding to yourself and grabbed your keys off the table, heading out the door with a confident walk.

Once you looked at the building in front of you, you felt your previous confidence leave your body. You’ve never felt so intimidated by a building before until now. But, you had to present yourself with confidence, so you took a deep breath and let your anxiety release as you breathed out. You let your false confidence return to you as you walked towards the arena with a notepad and pen in your hands. You flashed the security guards your press pass and walked through the doors. You  could hear the sounds of engines roaring as you walked to the pit stops in hopes of catching one of the racers . Cars would zoom past you and you could feel the gush of cold air fly past you just as the cars did.

 You let a grin take over my face as you spotted the very racer you were hoping to be able to interview. He was just getting out of his car as you made your way towards him, as his best friend sauntered over to him with a big grin stretched across his face. The very racer you were making your way over to, notices you walking towards him and cocks his head in confusion.

He watched as she made her way over to him. There was something fascinating about her, the way she carried herself. Full of confidence and intimidation, but the man did not feel an ounce of fear or nervousness as she continued to make her way towards him. No, instead it made him curious about her. He wanted to know…No, he needed to know more about her. He was compelled to walk over to her. To start a conversation, to talk to her. It was like he was under a spell or some magnetic force that pulled him towards her. He couldn’t even hear a word his best friend was saying. Not even when she was right in front of him, looking directly into his eyes. He only started to pay attention when she opened her mouth and started to talk to him.

“Hi! I’m Y/n, I work for the Daily Carat. I’m a journalist there and I was asked to come interview you and the upcoming Indy 500. Are you able to answer questions right now or do you need to get back to practising, I don’t mind coming back another time or scheduling an interview,” you say, trying to be confident with my words. 

“No worries, I’m available to talk now. Is it me you want to interview or Seungcheol,” Minghao asks with a slight smile on his face. 

“Well, both if you don’t mind. I originally came here to interview you, but I don’t mind interviewing The Quickest Lane Switcher either,” I smirk looking over at Seungcheol. 

“Yeah, yeah. Of course you would call me that,” He rolls his eyes, but there’s mischievous glint in them.

“Do you two know each other,” Minghao asks, confusion written over his face. 

“Yeah, just a bit. I’ve run into him a few times,” I reply, “Anyways, let’s get on with the interview. You guys are probably very busy with the race only being next month.”

“Right, so what do you want to know,” Minghao sits on the hood of his car.

You pull out your notepad and look over the questions you had previously prepared beforehand. “Well, I want to know how you feel about being a third time winning racer going for his fourth win. It must be pressuring for you to have to live up to big expectations. Especially with everyone expecting you to win. How do you try to not let the pressure get to you and push forward?”

“Yeah, there is a lot of pressure with people trying to constantly expect me to win for the fourth time. I feel like I’d disappoint them if I didn’t strive to always win because it’s just expected of me. I try to not let it get to me and use it as motivation. I want to be able to surpass everyone’s expectations and go fast each time. I want to surprise people,” Minghao looked away from me, jaw clenched in frustration. Something must be bothering him.

You write down key notes about what Minghao has said and move onto the next question, ‘Seungcheol, what about you? I know you might not be going for your fourth win, but going for a third one is still a big deal. Is there a lot of pressure around it? Especially, since this time you have to go up against your best friend. Are you planning on taking it easy on him,” you let a teasing smirk play on your lips at the last comment.

“Haha very funny, you think you’re very funny because you beat me. Don’t get so cocky, I’ll win next time,” he rolls his eyes with a cocky smirk.

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say. Now answer the questions Choi,” You rest your hands on your hips, fully confident in yourself. Your anxiety has completely left and you feel completely in my element.

“Fine, Lee. I would say there is and there isn’t a lot of pressure. I think I mostly put the pressure on myself because much like Minghao, I want to surpass people’s expectations of me. I don’t want to be seen as only one thing. I want to be able to surprise people with a variety of skills. And no, I’m not going to go easy on Minghao just because he’s my best friend.”

You continue asking them questions and they continue answering them, but every once in a while you couldn’t help but look over at the cars driving by. The way that they would speed past  you was thrilling. You couldn’t help but let a small grin take over your face whenever they would drive past.

Minghao noticed the way her eyes would gleam whenever they drove past them. He was growing even more curious about her. He wanted to know her secret. He wanted to know what she loved about racing and why she loved watching people race. He was also rather curious to know how she knew Seungcheol and what the hell they were talking about. He was so enthralled by her and the way she spoke that he failed to realise that the interview was over and that she was walking away from them now. He couldn’t help but wonder if he would see her ever again as he watched her figure leave the arena. Damn it, he should’ve asked for her number before she left.

Seungcheol whacks him on the back of the head, “Dude, you’re staring, she’s not coming back. Who knew Xu Minghao would be the type of guy who would fall in love at first sight.” 

“I’m not in love with her,” Minghao replies, rubbing the back of his head.

“Oh yeah, definitely not. I’m also not an illegal street racer,” Seungcheol rolls his eyes at the obliviousness of his friend.

“Whatever, I’m just curious about her. I’ve never met anyone quite like her before.  I just…I don’t know how to explain it, but she has the magnetic aura about her that pulls me to her.”

“That’s the first step, then boom next thing you know you’re in love getting married and having kids and-”

“Choi Seungcheol.”

“Sorry man. I was just trying to make a point. But, speaking of Illegal street racing. There’s another race tonight. You should come with me. I’ll even drive you there,” Seungcheol says, hoping to convince Minghao to finally go.

“I don’t know Cheol. You know how I feel about those races. I’ll have to think about it.”

“C’mon man. It’ll be fun, I promise. How about this, if you don’t have fun or enjoy it, I’ll drive you home immediately no questions asked. I will never ask you to attend another race again.”

“Why do you want me to go to this race so bad?”

“Well, I’ll be racing in one of the events tonight plus I think it might surprise you about who else will be there tonight.”

“Who else?”

“Come and you’ll find out. Don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“Fine. One race and that’s it.”

Evening finally rolled around and Minghao couldn’t believe how many people showed up to an illegal street race. He would think that there were famous people here with the amount of people that showed. Well, not counting himself and Cheol because they were technically celebrities. “Seungcheol, what’s up with all of these people? You would think it would be a bit more discreet…Is there some sort of celebrity coming to the race or something,” Minghao asks, eyes widening  as he sees even more people join the neverending crowd.

“Hush! Don’t call me that here, call me S.coups. People don’t know me as that here, can’t let them know I’m a famous racer, otherwise they would think that I’m cheating, they don’t take that shit lightly either,” Seungcheol, quickly hushes his friend.

“Alright, Alright. Calm down. You didn’t answer my question nor did you tell me that before we arrived here,” Minghao couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Seungcheol’s stupidity. 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry,” He rubs the back of his neck, “Well, somewhat famous people. At least what we consider famous in the illegal street race community. First, there’s DK, but you know him as Seokmin, yes a lot of nascar racers do illegal street racing. Then there’s Woozi, he’s known for his speeding  tricks. He’ll speed up and pass someone just to slow down right when they are behind him. It pisses everyone off when he does it, but it’s a brilliant way to always stay in first. Lastly, the one even more famous than you and I, Zero Light. She always wins because no one seems to be able to beat her. She also happens to be DK’s sister so she grew up behind the wheel, racing is in her blood. It’s my dream to be able to go against her in a one on one and win. Ah, here she comes, that’s her car.” As Seungcheol was talking, a car sped down the street. It was jet black and had white racing stripes.It was the coolest car Minghao has ever seen, but the comment about Seungcheol wanting to win against her made him confused. Because Seungcheol was a literal nascar driver, she can’t possibly be that good, right?

Once everyone noticed the car, they surrounded the car, and started to whoop and holler. Two people got out of the car and because everyone was surrounding them, Minghao couldn’t make out their faces. But he could definitely feel the change in the atmosphere when they showed up. Before everything was chill and people were just vibing, but now people are buzzing with excitement. 

“Hey! Zero Light, over here! I have someone I want you to meet. Bring DK with you,” Seungcheol shouts, waving his arms hoping to get their attention, which it somehow does.

They start weaving their way through the crowd to him and Seungcheol. And Minghao couldn’t believe who was in front of his eyes, “Y/n? What are you doing here?”

Her lips curved up to a smirk and he swears he’s never seen anything more attractive than the confidence he could feel surrounding her, “Ah, Minghao! I see S.coups has finally convinced you to come to one of these. And please, refer to me as Zero Light. Can’t let anyone know my real name in case the cops catch someone from one of these races. We should give you a nickname in case too. Do you have a nickname someone calls you that you like?”

“Uhm…”

“How about The8, for his love of infinite speed,” Seungcheol pipes in, “Also, where’s Woozi? Isn’t he supposed to be racing tonight?”

“I think it’s perfect,” you say, “Yeah, he’s on his way. He said he should be here in a couple of minutes. We won’t start the race without him anyways. What’s a good race when Woozi isn’t there.” 

“I like it,” Minghao replies, a confident smirk on his pretty lips, “Whose Woozi? S.coups mentioned him before, and said he was some sort of illegal street racing celebrity.” 

“Cool. Woozi’s my best friend. Yeah, he’s well known amongst the community here in Seoul, not quite sure if he’s as well known outside of it as we mostly do our races here. Oh, right. This is my brother DK. You probably recognize him, but because of him I’ve been able to see every single race of yours. Gotta say, I’m quite the fan. S.coups also talks quite a bit about you and wanted you to come to one of these. Glad you finally decided to come.”

“Really? Every single one? And you talk about me, they better be good things or I’ll-”

“Haha. Don’t worry, he only says the best things. Well, maybe a few embarrassing stories here and there, but that’s what friends are for. They gotta embarrass you sometimes and you them otherwise, are you true friends?”

“I guess you do make a good point.”

“Oh, Zero Light. I wanted to ask you if we could hold a one vs one tomorrow night. I don’t think there’s any scheduled illegal races for next week,” Seungcheol asks, butting into the conversation.

“You really want to lose that bad, huh?”

“I don’t think I’ll lose. I am a nascar driver after all,” Seungcheol smirks, confidence blooming in his chest.

“Although that may be true, how many times have you lost to me? I mean the same goes for DK here. He’s my brother so he would hate to lose to me at something he does for his career,” you rest your hands on your hip, cocking your head with a mock.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. What do you say? You in?”

“Sure, why not. I could use a break from all the tough competitors,” you smirk as Seungcheol scowls.

“Oh fuck off will you. Anyways, I can’t wait to finally win against you and rub it in.”

“Confident are we? Speaking of racing, where the fuck is Woozi. He said he’d be here soon, we can’t wait all night for him.”

Soon enough another jet black car comes barrelling down the street and instead of white racing stripes, it has a single red stripe down the centre of the car. When everyone notices that car, they start shouting yet again and the already buzzing energy gets even higher as someone new makes their appearance. 

“Ah, Woozi’s here. Perfect timing as always,” you roll your eyes and look over at the car that’s currently parking.

“That’s Woozi? I’m not going to lie..I expected him to be a lot more-”

“Intimidating? Taller? He’s very intimidating when you first meet him, but once he warms up to you, he’ll be someone you never forget,” you say, looking over at the short male with a smile on his face as he greets others while he makes his way towards us. 

“Hey guys! Who's the newbie? I swear I’ve seen you before, are you a model or something,” Woozi asks, looking up at Minghao.

“That’s The8,” you lean closer to Jihoon’s ear, “His name is actually Minghao and he’s a nascar racer. He’s S.coups best friend and has raced against DK before.”

“Ohhhh. Wow, I’ve heard so much about you from Zero-” Woozi starts to say until I elbow him before he says too much.”

“That’s enough out of you. We’ve got a race to start now that your ass has finally arrived,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, it’s starting now? Good luck Zero Light! You too Woozi and S.coups,” Minghao says, smiling with sincerity. 

“Baby, I don’t need luck,” you wink and leave a flustered Minghao behind as you head back to your car.

“I do, thanks The8,” Woozi says, “Especially if I’m going up against her.”

Minghao couldn’t even respond to Woozi because he was so caught up in his thoughts of her. His heart sped up just like the very cars he was surrounded by. Maybe Seungcheol was right. Maybe he did fall in love at first. “Come on lover boy, quite staring at my sister. You’re not going to want to miss this,” He lets Dk pull him somewhere they can see the race and just ignores the comment he made because again, it might very well  be true.

Engines revved as they waited for the chequered flag to wave. Loud music blasted from all the cars, pumping up both the racers and the viewers. Minghao could hear Villain blasting from her car. He was excited to see how she would race. Since he’s never been to one of these, he’s not quite sure how  they work. But he’s pretty sure you aren’t supposed to wait for everyone to speed off while you wait behind. Except that’s exactly what she did. She stood at the start line for five seconds before she finally sped off. 

You could feel the bass of the song thrum against you as it blasted through the speakers. You waited for about five seconds before you decided that it was long enough for everyone to get a good distance from the start line. You waited so that you could feel the real adrenaline race through your veins as you raced through the streets desperately trying to catch up. But for you, it was nothing.

You zipped through the streets, fast as the speed of sound. You could hear the tires screech against the asphalt every time you took a tight turn left. You drove up next to a jet black car with a red racing stripe and you knew exactly who you just caught up to.. you looked to your left and saw Jihoon flip you off and grinned from ear to ear. You could hear his laughter ring through my ears as you finally drove past him, making me come in first.

Watching her drive the way she did ignited something in Minghao, something he hasn’t felt in a while. He wanted…he craved to know what it felt like to drive the way she does. He wanted to be both the passenger and driver. He wanted to feel the thrill she felt. And he could tell she loved the adrenaline by how excited and how her smile beamed into the night as she celebrated her new victory. 

You climbed out of the car. A grin present on your lips as you bask in the glory of your win. Minghao pulled you into a tight hug, congratulating you on the win. Woozi even came over and joined the crowd  to congratulate you, though he did tease you and tried to say that you cheated. You could still feel the adrenaline pump through your veins. There was nothing more thrilling than racing down the street reaching new speeds. 

The glory and excitement was cut short as soon as you and everyone else heard sirens race through the streets desperate to find you and where everyone was hiding. Everyone quickly scrambled to get out of there before the cops showed up. Everyone was so panicked about getting caught that Seungcheol forgot to grab Minghao. DK and Woozi must've sped off together because they were nowhere to be found in the vicinity. 

Minghao still hadn't registered what was happening even when you pulled up next to him furiously trying to get him into the car. "Hao, fuck. Come on get in the fucking car, we don't have time for you to look like a cute lost puppy!"

"What? What's going on Y/n-" you didn't let him finish his sentence and opened the passenger side and yanked him in the car. You see flashing red and blue light's behind youand siren's blaring, "FUCK!"

You hurriedly shift your car into gear and speed down the street. Cops seemed to catch on that you were one of the racers and started to follow you, "Fuck, fuck. Okay, Hao...We are currently getting chased by cops, so I'm going to need you to duck down, so they don't see you. Can't have you going to jail."

Minghao listen's instantly and ducks down, hiding himself from the view of cops. You grip your steering wheel so tight that your knuckles start to turn white. You keep taking several left and right turns to throw the cops off your track but it doesn't last long enough. 

You quickly turn left into an alley. Fortunately, the cops were far enough back that they didn't seem to notice the sharp turn, so you quickly turned off the car and ducked down to remain hidden. You look over at Minghao to gauge his reaction. To your surprise, he looked like he was having the time of his life. He let out an elated laugh and you couldn’t help but start laughing alongside him.  “I think we’re safe now. I don’t hear the siren’s nor do I see flashing lights. I’ll take you home, where do you live,” you sat up in your seat and pulled out of the alley and drove Minghao home.

You walk up to Minghao and tap him on the shoulder, “Hey. My boss didn’t think we got enough questions yesterday, so I’m back again. Is Cheol not here today? Also, if you aren’t free right now, I can come back another time, schedule a lunch with you if need be.”

“No! No. It’s fine. I have time now. Yeah, Seungcheol is still a bit shaken up from last night, so he wants to take the day off from practising, especially since he has the race against you tonight,”Minghao sits on the hood of his car, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Ah, typical Cheol,” you reply playfully, “Anyways, some fans want to know how you got into racing in the first place. I’m not going to lie,  I’m also curious as to how you got into the whole nascar racing scene as well.”

“Well, Seungcheol would be the reason. He’s my best friend and he’s been doing illegal street racing since we were teenagers. I went only once to one of those and it was an amazing experience. I know I said I haven’t gone to one before, that is mostly true. I haven’t been to one since that one because after that I started to do more research about Nascar racing and just fell in love with everything. The way that there is no limit to how fast you can go. What about you?”

“Huh? What do you mean,” you look up from your notepad and give him a quizzical look. 

“What do you love about racing? Why don’t you become a Nascar racer instead of doing illegal ones?”

“Hey, I’m the one supposed to be asking the questions, not you. You can’t take my job like that,” you tease, trying to fight off the embarrassment.

“Awh, please? I won’t ask anymore questions. I’m just curious to know more about you,”Minghao takes his hands out of his pockets and folds them over his chest.

“I was just teasing you,” you sat next to him on the hood of his car. ”Jihoon actually got me into it. That’s Woozi’s real name, don’t tell him I told you,” you point your pen at him and he puts his hands up in surrender, “You would think it was my brother, but it wasn’t. He was a Nascar racer and sure that was cool too, but there were too many rules, plus tell me how many women Nascar drivers you see. But anyways, much like you. Jihoon was an illegal street racer as a teenager too and at first I was terrified of being at one of those races. Then he convinced me to and instead of being on the side lines, I was in the car with him. I got to feel the air whip through the car as we went faster and faster. I was so scared that we were going to  crash any time we took a tight corner. However, it was the most fun I’ve ever had and I just loved the rush of adrenaline.”

“Wow…that’s amazing,” he truly looked like he was in awe of what I told him. you felt extremely touched that he wanted to learn more about you. You also felt your heart pick up the pace.

“I guess..Anyways, are you ready for the Nascar race next month?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m excited,” Minghao lets out a breathy sigh and looks a bit dejected.

“Is everything okay? You can talk to me if something’s bothering you…”

“No, I’m fine! Don’t worry. Are you excited for the race against Seungcheol?”

“I mean, it’s Cheol. How excited can one be? I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you say when you notice the look he was giving me. “Yeah, I’m excited. I'd be even more excited if I were to know whether or not you would be making an appearance there.”

“Honestly? I love being a Nascar driver and being able to go fast. But when we were speeding away from the cops? What I felt then? That was something entirely different. The thrill and rush of getting caught was so exhilarating. I want to experience it again. Seungcheol didn't ask me to go, so I wouldn’t know where it was being held and-”

“I could take you,” you quickly chime in.

“You want to take me?”

“Yeah! It would be fun to have a passenger, someone that isn’t my brother or Jihoon,” I let out a chuckle, causing Minghao to smile.

“They, hell yeah!”

“Cool! What time should I pick you up?”

“I’ll give you my number and you can text me a time you think would be good.”  

Score! “Cool, I’ll text you then. I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you tonight. Bye Hao!”

“Bye…” 

The ride to the new area, where the race will be held, was a silent one. Not an uncomfortable or suffocating silence, but rather one that you basked in. You felt so comfortable around Minghao and you’ve only known him for two days. It’s crazy to think about how you’ve gotten close over the span of 48 hours, but you guess if you are getting chased and fleeing from the cops, it does that. Not that I’m complaining. It was somewhat a magical night, one that you will commit to memory forever. You wonder if he would do the same. 

You pulled into the lot and everyone crowded around your car once they noticed you had arrived. You told Minghao to stay in the car until you gestured for him to get out. You spotted Seokmin, Jihoon, and Seungcheol walking towards your car, so you waved for Minghao to get out of the car. Everyone gasped in surprise when they saw Minghao get out of the car, you even noticed your friends making confused faces, but you ignored them.

“Hey S.coups. Ready to lose,” you ask, taunting him.

“I don’t think so. Tonight is the night I finally beat you,” Seungcheol smirks.

“You think? Want to put a bet on it?”

“Sure. Loser buys dinner?”

“How about dinner for the entire group, your friends and mine?”

“Deal. But before we start the race, I want to know why you guys arrived together?”

“Yeah, I’m also curious. Last I checked, you only ever brought us two,” Seokmin points to him and Jihoon, “Are you guys a thing?”

“What? No,” both Minghao and you shouted together, causing some onlookers to stare.

“Uhm no. I asked if Minghao was coming and he said that he wanted to but you didn’t invite him so I did. I took your personal cheerleader, jealous?”

“Well, I thought after last night he wouldn’t want to come to one of these things again. Or maybe he didn’t come to see me race, but rather someone else,” Seungcheol looks over at Minghao, hinting at something.

“Who? It’s only  us racing tonight,” you ask obliviously.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes at your response which confuses you more, “No one, no one. Speaking of races, Minghao, are you prepared for the race next month? I still feel like I haven’t gotten enough practise in and I’m doing these illegal street races. I can’t imagine what it would be like for you.”

“I’d rather not talk about it right now. You have a race to lose,” Minghao quips

Seungcheol looks absolutely baffled to the point where you want to take a picture to laugh at in the future, “Wow. I thought you were MY best friend…”

“I am. Also try not to get too angry when I sit with her in her car,” Minghao starts walking backwards towards my car.

“Wait, what? I thought you would’ve wanted to ride with Seungcheol,” you replied.

“And be on the losing team? Nah, plus after the experience from last night, I want to experience that again with you,” Minghao gives your a toothy smile, that just maybe, just maybe makes your heart flutter a little. 

“Suit yourself,” Seungcheol walks past my car to his, not before passing by Minghao whispering something in his ear. 

You could hear music blasting from Seungcheol’s car as he revved the engine. The grip on your steering wheel tightened. You could feel the adrenaline start its course through your veins. You took a deep breath in and let it consume you. You felt a hand on yours, took it off the steering wheel and intertwined it with another. You look over and see Minghao’s hand interlaced with yours. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, you were about to question it, but Minghao squeezed your hand in reassurance. Silently, he was cheering you on. Your heart definitely did flips that time.  The chequered flag waved, but you were too caught up in Minghao to notice, that was until he released his hand from yours and pointed. Oh fuck…you were going to have a hard time explaining this one.

It took everything in Minghao to hold back his laughter. He didn’t want to throw her off her game. But as soon as she noticed she went flying down the road. Instinctively, he grabbed the handle and held onto it for dear life. He could tell that as soon as he did that, that Y/n was trying to hold back her giggles. As the car continues to pick up speed, Minghao starts to let loose a bit. He lets go of the handle and rolls down the window to truly feel air whip through his hair. He takes a deep breath in and truly tries to feel how she’s currently feeling. He pictures himself behind the wheel instead of her. He breathes in every sight, feels every turn, and can taste victory around the corner. Well, he could. That was until Seungcheol came speeding down the street, fast as lightning. Seungcheol quickly took the spot as first place. Minghao looked over at Y/n and noticed the panicked look on her face. This must not happen very often. Minghao did the first thing he could think of that would ground her. He put his hand on her arm, causing her to look over at him. Her eyes widen in surprise as she continues to look forward to the road ahead of her. She took one of her hands off the steering wheel and interlaced it with Minghao’s. He felt his heart speed up as the car began to speed up. They both secretly conveyed their thoughts and feelings to each other without murmuring a word. They could tell just by how someone would squeeze their hand. Minghao was cheering on and motivating her without having to say a word because all she had to do was look over at him and see the emotions in his eyes. 

To celebrate your win with Minghao, the both of you went to a fast food place to grab a bite to eat. “Hey,” you hear in a soft voice and look up from your burger to see Minghao staring at you with a curious gaze.  You blink in confusion. “Yeah? You need something?”

“I was wondering if you knew a place where we could chill out for a bit. I don’t really want to go home yet, you know?”

“Yeah, I do. I’ll take you there after we finish eating. Is that good with you? If not, I can bring our food with us.”

“I don’t mind waiting for you.”

You park the car on the grassy hill away from city life. You stepped out of the car and let the cold breeze fill your lungs as you breathed in the fresh air. Minghao also stepped out of the car and took in the surroundings around him. You could see a soft smile greet his lips., causing you to smile at his contentment. You sit on the hood of your car and put your hands behind your head as you lay down to look at the stars above. You feel the car shift in weight as Minghao lays next to you. You look over and see him already looking at you. You take one of your hands from underneath your head and innerlace them with his. At this point, when your hand isn’t in his, it feels strange. Like a sense of lostness. Your hand feels like it belongs in his. You feel at home when you're with him. you can’t help wondering if he feels the same as you do.

“Why didn’t you want to go home? Is there something bothering you,” your voice is soft and not above a whisper. You continue observing his face as he looks away from you and towards the city in front, oblivious to love blossoming in the air. 

Minghao lets out a deep sigh, “there’s a reason I didn’t really want to talk about the race. I’m not all that happy racing anymore. It’s kind of become a burden to me instead of a fun career. I don’t really feel the same passion and energy that I used to feel. I think it’s because people nowadays only care about winning and will do whatever it takes to win, even if that means cheating.  I’m actually thinking this will be my final season as a Nascar racer.”

You sat up in shock, “What? Really?”

He nods his head, “I haven’t made a final decision yet, but it’s something I’ve been thinking of. My passion for racing is dwindling everytime I go to the race track to practise for my upcoming race.” 

“What if I help you get your passion and love back for racing? I mean these past two days, I’ve seen you smiling and you look so light and free than I’ve seen you in your past races. What if I help you get your love back? You can maybe try illegal street racing and if you don’t want to physically be in the driver's seat, you can sit next to me. I really really want to help you. Maybe even use this as practice for the Indy race instead of actually practising. Get away from the race track and the rules for a bit.” 

 “Yeah…Okay. That sounds like a good idea. Let’s do it,” Minghao warmly smiles towards you and your stomach does somersaults. 

It’s been two weeks since you had that talk with Minghao. You’ve been going to illegal races almost every day, minus a few breaks here and there. But it’s sort of become a tradition that after every illegal race, you would go grab some greasy food and go up on the hill away from the city. Some of those nights were the best nights of your life. You would just sit and talk about anything and everything that came to mind. Those nights were your favourite because you get to listen to him talk about his life.  

Tonight was no different. You guys were chilling on the hood of your car staring at the stars talking about life. “Y/n,” he quietly speaks up.

“Yes Hao?”

“I think I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“I want to race in an illegal street race,” he looks over at you, eyes full of anxiety.

“Are you sure,” you ask and he nods his head, “Well, why don’t we make an announcement at tomorrow night’s race? Hell you can even race it! I’ll let you take my spot for tomorrow night’s race!” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to race one last race?”

“Nah, I’m fine. I mean I can always join you in the car if you are that worried I would get bored,”

“What? I wasn’t worried, I just didn’t want your fans to get mad that you aren’t racing.”

“I could use a break. They’ve seen me win enough times. So, don’t worry about them.”

The evening rolled in faster than you thought it would. You could feel the excitement and adrenaline radiating off of Minghao as he sat next to you on your way to the illegal street race. It was his debut night as an illegal street racer, so to see him not anxious in the least bit surprised you to an extent. He was a nascar racer after all, but you think he would be a little bit nervous about racing in an actual street race where he could potentially go to jail for. But no, you could see the confident smirk and glint in his eyes. 

You arrived at the parking lot where others were currently parked and waiting for you to arrive. The spectator’s and your friends surrounded your car as you parked, whooping and hollering as soon as they saw you exit, but their cheers grew when Minghao stepped out. Minghao walked over to your friend group while you thought now was a good time to announce Minghao’s debut because everyone was all fired up by his arrival. But first you had to get their attention.

“ALL EYES ON ME,” you shout, cupping your hands around your mouth to make your voice louder.

“ALL EYES ON YOU,” everyone shouts in return except there’s a faint voice yelling, “my eyes are always on you.” You could’ve swore it was Minghao saying that but why would he.

“Alright, now that I have everyone’s attention. I have a few announcements about tonight’s race. I know some of you might be a little disappointed with some of the news I’m going to share, but I don’t care,” you playfully tease, hands on your hips and a growing smirk on your lips.

 “The first announcement is that tonight, I am not racing.” You could hear a series of groans come out of people’s mouths. You also noticed Jihoon and Seokmin furrow their eyebrows in confusion, meanwhile Seungcheol is raising an eyebrow towards Minghao, but he chooses to ignore him. “I know, I know. You’re all mad and upset because you took the time out of your night to come and see me. I appreciate it, I really do, but I’m going to be taking a break from racing for a bit, Not for too long, but a small break, like around a week.”

If that didn’t confuse everyone then what you’re about to say is going to definitely elicit surprises and confusion. “Since I’m taking a small break, someone’s going to need to take my place for the race tonight. I want to introduce you to one of my good friends who will be taking my place tonight and for future races. I know you all have been quite curious about him, so why don’t I let him introduce himself? The8, come here please”

Everyone turned to look at the man you pointed to; and the previous disappointment everyone felt vanished, instantly replacing it with excitement. Cheers surrounded Minghao as he made his way towards you. He had a rather shocked face at all the cheers…it was really cute. 

“Hello everyone! I’m The8 and I’m taking Zero Light’s place for the time being. I hope you guys won’t be too upset about your future losses and your upcoming loss tonight,” Minghao says with a cocky smirk, firing up the crowd even more. 

“Alright, alright. That’s enough boasting, why don’t you actually show them what you’re capable of? Because you may be able to talk the talk but it doesn’t mean you’ll walk the walk. How about it ladies and gentlemen? Are you ready for the race to start,” you shout, screams encompass the parking lot, bouncing off the walls echoing through the small neighbourhood. 

Minghao grips the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He hasn’t felt the rush of adrenaline like this in a really long time. He’s been craving for another taste ever since he lost his love in racing. This. This feeling is what he’s missed for so long. He can’t even say he’s nervous because he’s not. Although he should be with you watching, however, it brings him a sense of comfort knowing that you’ll be watching him race. Watching him win. He let his confidence take the wheel and stepped on the gas as soon as the flag was waved.

Minghao sped down the streets as quickly as he could. Zooming through the streets, weaving through the cars, passing obvious stop signs, and doing his damned best to win. There was no way he was going to let someone show him up. Racing was in his blood after all. It’s what he lived for. It was what drove him to be the person who was. So there was no way he was going to lose.

Minghao had to do a double-take when he saw Jihoon sitting on the hood of his car, waiting for his fellow racers to show up. He didn’t even see Jihoon pass him. How the hell did he get there before him? Minghao storms out of the car, or correction, your car because you oh so graciously let him borrow it, but not without threatening him if he puts a scratch on your precious baby. He marches his way over to Jihoon, “Dude, when did you even get here? I never saw you pass me?”

Jihoon shrugs his shoulders, “maybe you just weren’t looking for me. Slipped right past you, near SVT Street.”

“That far?! Seriously, how did you do it? You have to teach me, but I still can’t believe I lost.”

“Well this is your first street race. You may be a Nascar racer, but you don’t know the streets like we do. We know what streets we can skip, plus we aren’t afraid to play dirty,” you walk up behind Minghao, “don’t be too sad that you lost. It was more than likely you were going to lose against Woozi.” 

“I could teach you a couple of tricks if you would like,” Jihoon suggests.

“Yeah, okay. Who knows, they might help me in Nascar racing too. It wouldn’t hurt to try,” Minghao tries not to pout, but couldn’t help it. He genuinely thought he would win. You walk up to him, and without thinking about it, you press your lips gently to his cheek, hoping that you will slightly cheer him up. When you pull your face away from his cheek, you find him staring at you, an unknown emotion swirling around his eyes. You’ve never noticed how his eyes are a vast ocean that will pull you under. It’s almost as if you could find all the answers to the world hidden inside.You would’ve stared longer, but you quickly moved away from Minghao as soon as you heard Jihoon clear his throat behind you. You spun on your heels and practically sprinted to your car. 

Jihoon looks over at Minghao to question him about what just happened, but he could tell the man was lost in thought, staring at your faded silhouette. Jihoon just shakes his head at the obliviousness between you two. “Dude, are you just going to stare at her longingly and let her keep waiting for you? Or are you going to follow her? Maybe ask her what the fuck just happened,” Jihoon says, mumbling the last part.

“What?” Minghao furrows his eyebrows and lets confusion fill his features. 

“She’s going to leave your sorry ass behind if you don’t hurry up and get it together.”

“Shit,” Minghao sprints after your car, waving his hands hoping to get your attention.

Jihoon sighs, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, “idiots to lovers I tell you. Oblivious idiots.” He rolls his eyes and sticks his hands into his pocket and jumps off the hood of his car to head home.

Jihoon has been training Minghao in the art of street racing, alongside you. He’s definitely changed since you first met him at the track. At first he was so reserved, reluctantly answering your questions, but now he can’t stop talking about himself. In a positive way, of course he always remembers to ask you questions in return. Usually, those questions are asked while the both of you are laying on the hood of your car, your head on his chest, and his arm lazily wrapped around your waist. Those nights were your favourite because it’s become some sort of tradition that the both of you would head there after one of Minghao’s street races, but not before grabbing some greasy food to eat while staring at the far city lights, surrounded by thousands of glittering stars. 

It was hard to believe that a month has passed since you struck up the deal together. You’ve noticed that not only is he not as reserved, but he’s gotten his spark back. You can see it in the way he smiles while his hands are on the steering, shifting gears, and zooming past cars. He’s finally found himself and his love of racing. However, there’s a few problems that you’ve come to realise. 

You realised that you were madly in love with Xu Minghao, especially the Minghao you only got to see. You couldn’t determine whether or not he felt the same, but he had to at least feel something during those nights when he would sing to you, gently kissing your forehead and stroking your cheek while you accidentally fell asleep on the hood of your car.

But the next problem you ran into was a major one. If you were to ever tell Minghao your feelings and he returned them, he would easily forget about you. Afterall, tonight is his final street race before he has the Indy 500 the next day. And once he’s done with the race, he’ll probably go back home, continuing his life as a Nascar racer. Meanwhile, you’ll be left alone in a giant city. 

“Hey Minghao! Are you ready for your final race tonight? Even if it’s up against me,” you smirk, walking up to Seokmin’s car. Seokmin let him borrow it for the night because he wasn’t going to use it, not if you, Jihoon, Seungcheol, and Minghao were all planning on racing. No, he valued his life much more than his car.

“Yeah, hope you’re ready to lose this time,” Minghao returns your smirk.

“Against you? Never. Remember who you’re talking to baby, I am Zero Light, the undefeated,” you lean in closer, breath tickling his ear.

“How about this, if I lose against you, I’ll tell you a secret,” he whispers, bringing his hand up to your face, resting his palm on your cheek, gently grazing it with his thumb.

“And if I lose? What will I have to do,” you ask, leaning into his touch.

“Nothing because that’s how confident I’ll win against you,” he pulls his hand away from your face, grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles. His smirk widens when he looks up and sees the light red hue spread across your face.

“I better get back to my…uh… car….the race will…um… be starting soon,” you back up away from the car accidentally bumping into a stranger, “Oh my god, I am so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You keep apologising to the stranger, while Seokmin, Jihoon, and Seungcheol all collectively sigh watching both you and Minghao act stupid in front of each other.

You swung open your car door, stomping your way over to him. You swing his door open and yank him out of the car after he unfastens his seatbelt. You bring him into a bone-crushing hug and hold him tight. Tears well up in your eyes and you slightly pull away from him, “I can’t believe you.”

“Can’t believe what? That I won and that you lost,”  Minghao teases, looking deep into your eye, mapping every detail of your face.

“No. I can’t believe how far you’ve come during this month. I’m going to miss you when you leave to go home,” you wrap your arms around his neck, drawing his face closer to yours so that you can truly stare into his eyes forever.

“It wasn’t without yours and Jihoon’s help, thank you for everything. I’m…” you can see the hesitancy within his eyes. He wants to say something…he needs to tell you…

“Hao? What is it? You can tell me anything,” you take his face into your hands and gently brush your fingers against his cheek, much like you did before, he leans into your touch.

“I’m going to miss you too…I’m going to miss you more than you can imagine,” you can hear the sincerity in his voice and it takes every last bit of self-control in you to not smash your lips onto his, so all you could offer him was a comforting smile.

Minghao was anxious, you could tell even far up in the bleachers. You wanted to be in the pit with him, cheering for him, but you couldn’t. You were only allowed down there when they weren’t busy getting ready for a race, 1 minute left, you noted, and when it was appropriate for journalists and reporters to ask their questions. 

He was pacing back and forth. The anxiety chewed him up inside. He got so used to racing in the street races, that he seemed to forget some of the basic rules. He has to go over them before the race starts. What was it? What was the first rule? Shit…He can’t remember.  

Then his phone rings. He knew it was you. He could tell because he purposely picked out a ringtone for you, so that he always knew it was you calling him. “Y/n?”

“Hao…breathe for me. Just remember you’ve got this,” your voice soothes his growing anxiety.

“But what if I accidentally forget that this isn’t a street race and it’s an official one?”

“You won’t. Do you know how I know,” you see him shake his head from a distance, “Because on the track you are Xu Minghao, not The8. You are just yourself and not some persona you put on for others. Because if you lose, I won’t tell you a secret.”

“A secret?”

“Yeah, if you win…I’ll tell you one of my deepest secrets.”

As if a switch was flipped, in that very moment, you could feel the fiery energy radiate off his aura. Even though he was going up against his best friend and your brother, he had confidence in his ability to race. He knew he would win. He had to win. He’s never felt this desire to win this strong before. Not until you gave him a reason to want to win. When he races, he doesn’t care if he wins or loses, as long as he’s feeling the adrenaline pump through his veins he’s okay with losing. But now? You telling him one of your precious secrets? He has to win.

Lap after lap, it felt like the race was never going to end. You felt anxiety raise each time someone overtook Minghao’s first place, but he always seemed to be able to kick it into gear and steal his spot back. You were at the edge of your seat, hanging by a thread. Sometimes, it looked like Minghao wouldn’t even be able to take his spot back, but then suddenly he would use a move Jihoon taught him and it was like appeared out of thin air and was back in first place.Once the race was truly over, you were over the moon excited that Minghao was able to secure his fourth win. But more anxiety came once you realised you had to tell him your secret. 

“Hao! Congratulations! I’m so proud of you! After you're done taking pictures and celebrating, can we go to our spot?”

“Of course! I can’t wait to celebrate my win with you,” Minghao sends a wink your way.

“Do you remember what I said to you over the phone before the race started,” you ask, voice barely heard over the whisper of the lofi radio. The gentle glow cascades you both in a paint-like-lighting. Your question pulls Minghao out of his thoughts.

“How could I forget? It was my motivator…the reason I wanted to. It was the first time I ever really felt a desire to win that much,” Minghao looks over at you, but you are avoiding all eye contact with him, just staring out at the setting horizon in front of you, “what is it? The secret?”

“I don’t want you to leave and go back home. I want you to stay here with me…with all of us.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m in love with you. I don’t know when it happened, maybe when I was first introduced to you as a racer or maybe it was after I truly got to know you…” you finally gather the courage to look at Minghao, only to find him already staring at you. There that unknown emotion is again. It’s ever so present, swirling and mixing in his eyes.

You take his long silence as rejection and hop off the hood of the car, you can feel the tears well up and slowly slide down your face. You don’t know where you're walking to and frankly you don’t care, you just want to get as far as you can from MInghao. 

You feel gentle fingers grasp your wrist, you turn around to see Minghao crying. Why is he crying? You’re not sure, but you know that you’re crying along with him. “Y/n…you didn’t wait for my answer.”

“You took too long to answer, so I took it as a rejection.”

“Only an idiot would reject you and I am not one. But I am an idiot for not saying something sooner. I wanted to tell you that I loved you last night, but I just couldn’t form the proper words or sentences. I was also going to tell you that I was planning on staying…over the course of the month, Seoul has become my place because you are my home.” Tears start to slide down your face again after his heartfelt confession. He brings a comforting hand and lightly wipes your tear stained cheeks with his fingers…“Beautiful…as always,” slowly his face gets closer to yours. And as you stare into each other's souls, Minghao searches your eyes for any hesitancy and when he doesn't find any; he tilts your chin up, bringing your lips closer to his, finally letting them meld together like two puzzle pieces meant to find each other. 

Taglist for Seventeen: @mhyori1117

Networks: @the-k-neverland @cacaokpop-fics @timenote-library @k-radio

[munsonology]

I’m watching gran turismo and it’s already a comfort movie possibly more than need for speed

And it’s absolutely fueling (hehehehe) my need for nascar!eddie again

[professional-yearner]

(New yandere content omg)

Meet yall's new man, Ace

I'll do headcannons for him in a bit but here he is for now 🫡

[discow1tch]

Dark of the Moon AU where the reader is an anthropologist specializing in cybertronians. You get to hang out with the wreckers while they work on the Xantium. You gotta balance the government wanting weapons specs and political leverage with your genuine desire to learn about their culture while slowly falling in love with them. Obviously, things fall apart after Chicago but, y'know, they get asylum in Cuba and that's honestly a pretty good outcome all things considered.

[mitchywitchythings]

NASCARRacer! DriftDriver! DragRacer! Reader X Todoroki Shoto

Summary: A great date night went south when a high speed villain chase occured, being the only person who knows how to drive, you drove your boyfriend to go and stop the villains. But little does your boyfriend know that you’re a NASCAR, drift, and drag racer, but also a broke ass college student. How will he react to that, once he finally finds out about your dirty little secret?

Warnings: Lots Of Aggressive Driving, Shoto Being A Complete Sugar Daddy, Violence, Reader’s A Badass, Implied Smut, Implied NSFW

Pairing: Todoroki Shoto X Fem! Reader

Word count: 5,049 words

The reason you guys even met is because your best friend was running a support gear agency. The best one in all of Japan in fact!

Who knew that when she asked you for a favor to drop off a package at her agency, you’d run into the famous 3rd year student at U.A. High, Todoroki Shoto!

What started out as a small autograph, turned into a conversation, which led him to asking for your number!

Dude was incredibly nervous about asking for your number, Kaminari had given him a long ass orientation on how to ask for a cute girl’s number~

It was so adorable how he attempted to flirt with you, nervous stutters, red face, and all!

God! He was going to kill Kaminari after this!!

In the end, you still gave him your number, it made him super happy. Felt like he was going to burst!

You were just so pretty, cute, and God forbid he uses this phrase out loud, so fucking HOT!!!!🥵

Like legit, if he would say that phrase out loud you’d probably die or melt on the spot(Not cuz he accidentally activated his quirk from how flustered he was)

But because of how sexy he said that, like seriously it should be illegal, this mf could kill you with looks alone. Please forbid his sexy ass voice from ever speaking!!

Just kidding, in all seriousness he’d probably also die from the embarrassment from saying those. He gon dig up a large hole and hide in it forever- lmaooo

Poor baby boi~ He only wanted to have your affection (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

Okay moving on from that, took him a solid 3 weeks of constant chatting and video chat with you, and running into you in a coffee shop while you were both running errands.

For him to ask you out on a date

He asked tips and advice from all of the girls in his class, and also some boys. Like Midoriya, Iida, Bakugo(Angry Boi threw some peppermint candy canes at him and yelled eat this and just show up), and Hell, even Kaminari.

He only asked Kaminari since he did managed to get your number with his orientation

Ok, so based on all of the research he did on the internet on how to plan a perfect date. (He was really trying his best since this was his first ever date!)

He should take you out to this fancy high end restaurant!

He used his dad’s connections to get him a last minute reservation since the place was already booked months before oof-

He bought you a dress with the help of his sister the night before the date, telling to wear it for your event

The moment you looked at the dress you knew it was expensive as FUCK!

Like shit! Bitch this was designer!! Something you couldn’t afford sadly QwQ

You practically begged him to take it back, he absolutely refused to though, saying that you’ll look beautiful in it

The price tag for the dress was alright, he just wished that it was a bit more expensive(The dress was seriously expensive enough as it was) because he was paying for it with his daddy’s black credit card!!!🤭

Okay, to the date. It went really well!!! Everything was absolutely perfect and the food was delicious since the restaurant had 5 Michelin Stars-

He even asked you to be his girlfriend to which of course you agreed to in less than a heartbeat, duh🙄

I mean how could you resist that handsome, cute, and sexy face of his-

The answer is no one can!!

Well the night was about to come to an end when he was going to hail a taxi to get you both home, which you refused. Saying you could drive the both of you home in your own car.

He already paid for the dress and meal it was the least you could do😭

He finally agreed after some time, asking about how you already had a car when you were still a broke ass student in the same year as him, lol he didn’t word it out like that but you get the picture

P.S. He doesn’t know how to drive, he always had a chauffeur do it for him, damn is he rich qwq, I wish all…

Before you had the chance to explain a lie about how it wasn’t actually your car but your brothers to hide the fact that you were a NASCAR driver, drift driver, and drag racer.

Suddenly a villain attack happened, a high speed car chase which only passed by the two of you before the heroes and police that chased after the villains, their cars suddenly swiveled and crashed:

“Shit, look I’m really sorry. I need to go help out in the situation.” He let go of your hand and was about to dash off

“Wait! How are you going to catch up with a villain like that?! Come on, we can use my car, I’ll drive you!” He didn’t have time to complain before I grabbed his hand and pulled him.

Running over to the latest model of Toyota’s GR86, in your favorite color, Shoto notices. He was quite stunned, you mentioned the fact that you were having some trouble financially since you were still in college, but he didn’t expect you to have a sports car in your possession.

He wondered silently whether or not this was actually your car or a friend of yours. In his own opinion he was really trying to offend you or judge you, but how could he not at least wonder whether or not that car was actually yours.

As he recalls, you explicitly said you were broke and couldn’t afford to pay half for this dinner date at the super fancy restaurant or for the dress, he of course paid on both of your behalf, but still he was never intending for you to pay for anything.

As he believes it is only customary that he pays because he’s such a gentleman. Mama Rei and Fuyumi-chan taught him well. Going back, he was shocked as you quickly pulled out your keys and opened the car.

Taking the driver's seat, while he took the passenger. Shoto made a mental reminder to get himself a drivers license if he wants to be the kind of man you can rely on to drive you around once you get married. And yes, Shoto was already so sure of his future with you that he was dead set on marrying only you and no one else.

As he entered the car, he noticed how clean it was and how the nice smell of the new car was. The seatbelts were different as well, it wasn’t just your regular one. It was a 4 point seat belt safety harness in fact. It was also a 2 seater just so you know it’s really a sports car.

He wiggled a bit on the extremely comfortable leather seats, trying to get more comfortable. Strapping the seat belt on him also in the process. Staring at your car in shock still, he didn’t notice you put a helmet on top of head until it was already there.

“I forgot to bring my hero suit with me, I usually bring it.” He commented, adjusting the strap on the helmet

“Just kick some ass for me, will you? You don’t mind me driving a bit fast, we’ll catch up with those villains in no time. I promise.” You said sweetly, a helmet already present on your head, while your hands were on the steering wheel, “Oh, and Shoto, don’t take off your helmet or seatbelt, trust me on that.”

Before he could reply anything, you turned the key in the car, making the engine rev up to life. While it was music to your ears, it made Shoto’s a bit uncomfortable. He never did like loud things didn’t he, he was more of the quiet and peaceful guy.

“Hold onto something!” You yelled before stepping on the accelerator

You Immediately drove out from your parking space. You switched from 1st gear to 2nd, and began to overtake any cars that were in your way. Shoto began clutching onto the grab handles for dear life. He had definitely not expected that his little sweet girlfriend was able to drive this hardcore. Shifting from 3rd gear now to 4th gear, Shoto’s eyes closed in fear for a second.

“Shoto, turn on the radio in the back, so we know where they're headed!” He did just that with extreme difficulty since he refused to take off his seatbelt.

You both listened to the radio intently, “Watch out! You might hit someone!” He yelled, eyes immediately widened as people began running from the streets.

“Relax! I never mentioned this on our date, but I’m a racer! I do Nascar, drag, and drift racing! I’m practically a professional!” You countered, “I’m going to take a short cut, I know where they’re heading!”

You quickly pulled on the emergency break and did a donut drift, heading into a small alleyway, which would cut into an uncrowded street, although it was one way. Exiting the narrow alleyway, by this time you were already in 5th gear. Reaching already about 120 km/h, Shoto was now definitely a bit more terrified than usual with his high speed chases.

The drivers were going fast of course like how you were, but you were going faster, and driving you on a one way highway. And you were young as fuck, a year younger than Shoto in fact. He didn’t think you’d have this much experience, but based on the fact at how you easily dodged the other moving vehicles and all other obstacles.

He knew you were the real deal, “Why didn’t you mention that?! Seems important don’t you think?!” He had to yell over all of the noise the car was making.

“You don’t seem to like girls with loud personalities! Figured you like me better and stuff. Doesn’t seem like a turn on, don’t you think?! Besides, I was gonna tell you when I’d invite you to one of my races!” You yelled back

“Of course, I’d still like you! I love you for you! No matter what you do for a hobby!” You began beeping at the people in the way.

“I love you too! And it’s more of a side career, baby!” He blushed at the nickname.

It was like seeing a whole new side of you just popping up. He still recognized you, but there was this fire in your eyes that couldn’t be extinguished when you grabbed the steering wheel. Spinning it around to the left and right, it was like he was stuck in a hypnotic trance that was hard to get out of.

You looked absolutely stunning in the beautiful formal dress you were wearing, completely accentuating all of your pretty and thick curves. Despite the helmet covering your gorgeous hair, the contrast only made you look even hotter than before.

The make up you had on, did perfectly well to bring out your looks. Gosh did you look pretty, Shoto only realizing it now when you were being all badass and all. It turned him on a bit, to tell you the truth. He just couldn’t help it or more like help himself in drinking up your looks and body with his eyes. Oops-

Forget that, you read nothing! Moving on, you began stepping on the pedal to the metal. Driving up to speeds of 160 km/h, you switched to 6th gear again. Things were tethering on dangerous waters, but you couldn’t slow down now unless you were going to drift or find the villains in question.

By now, based on the radio, the villains had already shaken off all of the pro heroes and police off their tail. All except for you, Shoto, and the helicopter flying above the villain's car.

Finally, exciting the one way highway, you spotted the villain's car. They were staring at Shoto intently from the rearview mirror, not liking that. You began to speed up, quickly chasing them with them easily. Eventually, when you caught up with them, Shoto prepared to use his ice, in order to freeze their car.

But it seemed like an unwise decision considering how it could cost an accident with other cars. And how you could also crash into the ice or the back of the frozen car with the speed you guys were going at.

“Can you slow down, so I can freeze them?!” He bumped into the side of the car roughly as you suddenly had to swerve in order to dodge a large debri the villains threw at you with the use of their quirk.

“We slow down, we lose them! What do you want to do then?!“ Ready to follow any of his orders obediently.

“You said you were a drift racer right?!”

“Hell yeah, I am!”

“Then get in front of their car, I wanna be facing them!”

“Gladly!”

You pressed on the play button on the stereo in front of you, music began to play. It was Tokyo Drift, a perfect song for a high speed chase. You felt like you were in the movie Fast and Furious! Speeding up even more, you overtook the villain's car, still staying in your lane though.

Then pulling on the emergency break like before, you immediately turned the wheel quickly to the left. The spinning of the car followed, making Shoto real dizzy for a hot second. Smoke began coming out from the back of your car.

That was natural though, Shoto thought. Holding onto the handle of the car with 2 hands even tighter than before making his entire hands began to turn white. Without realizing it, he activated both of his quirks, accidentally melting and freezing the handle at the same time.

His heart was beating so fast that it was like in time with the rhythm of the song. That was an exaggeration of course, but still his heart felt like it would jump out from his rib cage at any moment now.

The screeching noises the car made, made Shoto cringe internally while the corner of your mouth piped up, clearly satisfied with it. Your car was now in front of the villain’s car, completely facing it. You pressed the red release button in your seatbelt.

“Keep your seatbelt on!” Shoto yelled as his eyes widened at your actions

You didn’t reply, instead ignoring it completely as you turned your body around to look from over your comfortable expensive looking ass leather seats. Driving without looking back at the front, making sure you wouldn’t hit anything from the back. You trusted and depended on the fact that Shoto would look after you from the front.

“Just stop the villain!”

“You're my first priority!” He retorted back

Grabbing you, pulling you back to your seat. He forced you to wear your seatbelt and keep driving without looking back.

“Sho-“ You screeched before being cut off by the villains who bumped into your car, “Baby! I need you to pull out my back view camera!”

He did just that, with great difficulty might I add. Because the villains in front of you were trying to hit you, with intentions of making you guys crash. But having been in this situation many times before. You wouldn’t say that you couldn’t handle it.

When he pulled it up, you began to concentrate on that only. Completely tuning out everything, leaving it to Shoto to stop the villains. Whilst you desperately try to dodge all moving cars that appeared, let’s just say that a lot of people were pissed at both you and the villains.

As Shoto was about to tell you to get out of the way so he could freeze the car entirely. The villains made a hard left turn, making him curse under his breath in frustration. You couldn’t help but pout at him, he looked so mad, sad, and frustrated. You definitely didn’t like that one bit.

So you pressed the medal to the metal again, and began to chase after the villain. Even the helicopter that was following you from before managed to lose sight of both you and the villain.

Forcing them to wander around aimlessly, before Shoto called up his dad’s agency to inform them about the situation and call in backup. Now there were more heroes and sidekicks in cars going after the villain. You asked Shoto if you guys could now go home since the situation was being handled.

He of course said no, saying the lines that just because the situation was being handled doesn’t mean they should still stop chasing after the villains and what if the villains escapes and such. He just wanted to be a hero and do his job right, you thought.

Your heart completely warmed up and melted at his passion for his soon to be career that was within his reach. Only a little more way to go before he becomes a fully fledged hero. You were so proud of him, admiring him greatly for his heroic heart and actions.

Maybe that’s why you fell so in love with him so quickly. Well whatever it was, you were just so glad to have met your favorite hero in training! All the cameras, interviews, and fight scenes didn’t do him any justice to show how kind and truly beautiful he was, inside and out.

“Shit!” He yelled, cursing as the villains suddenly came out from a narrow alleyway.

Nearly bumping into you guys, had you not dodged in time. Shoto cursed at himself silently again like he had been doing since this high speed chase had started. He didn’t think anything through, because he was so focused on the villains. He had let you get involved in his hero work.

He willingly let you put yourself in danger. God, what was he thinking to allow you, a civilian who holds deep meaning to him, be in danger?! He was beginning to drown in his horrible and disgusting thoughts.

Before he was snapped back to reality with a harsh bump to the side of his head from the hard right turn you took. Screaming curses at the back at your throat as the villains you had dodge countless times before, finally managed to pin you guys.

It was on your side that the car was pinned to the wall, Shoto was face to face with the villain in the passenger seat. You internally cringed at all the screeching noises that were coming out from the situation. Knowing fully well that your car wouldn’t come out unscathed and you’d have to pay another hefty amount for all the repairs it’ll need.

“Damn, I just had the paint job done and it was expensive!” You comically cried out tears to which made Shoto really fucking guilty.

Internally he also burned a mental reminder into his brain, remembering to pay for all of the damages that happened to your car. It wouldn’t be a big deal as you usually made it sound, like that one time he bought you a really expensive necklace.

Though you loved it, you had still asked him to take it back. His baby only deserves the world in his opinion, although he of course can’t get you the entire world. He could get you the things best next to it. Besides all expenses would be paid using Endeavors credit card so you shouldn’t worry about it.

But going back, besides feeling guilty, he was so feeling really pissed now at the villains, Shoto couldn’t help but indulge himself in freezing their entire car. Yeah it was a bit reckless because the sudden freezing ice that came into contact with the schalding hot engine could explode(Just run with it, I know that’s not how it goes :D)!

But he was so livid, no one treats his girlfriend and future wife like that! She was incredibly sad with the damages her car got, Hell he’ll get her a new car just to see how she smiles!

“Shoto!” Your eyes widened in fear as the villains were stuck in a block of ice, completely frozen over with terrified expressions.

“It’s fine, as long as we act fast they won’t die.” He grumbled underneath his breath.

Pulling out his phone from his pocket, he failed his dad’s number, telling him where exactly they were and that the villain was immobilized. Leaving out the part that he completely froze over, just telling them in a somewhat stiff and monotonous voice to hurry up and up them away.

Because he was taking you home, before all the media and paparazzi could reach the both of you. He really didn’t want you to get involved with the media, he knew that could damage your reputation immensely, despite having helped a lot tonight.

He can’t deny the fact that you had driven so recklessly, and so dangerously. He has his limits too, until how far he can protect you, he was human in that way. But also he didn’t want the media getting a hold of your relationship.

Even if he had told the media that you were a civilian he never met and had only asked for your car, they wouldn’t believe his bullshit. For one, it was quite obvious you had just come out from a date from the similar over the top outfits you guys were wearing.

But not only that, he knew how crazy his fangirls were. He was undeniably popular, and could kill girls with his smile alone as per Mt. Lady, who he knew his girlfriend wasn’t really fond of from all the attempted flirting she does with him.

Of course, he never indulged in her silly antics, nor did he find any interest in it. For one their age gap was huge even if Mt. Lady would never admit it, he knew that she was clearly really older than him despite still being known as a young pro hero.

Steering away from that topic, you guys were now driving home. Or more like you guys were driving back to your dorm, Shoto had never been there before. But he had already been to the college you were enrolled in.

After immense convincing on Shoto’s side, you both agreed that Shoto would stay with you tonight. To protect you, comfort you, etc. and stuff. Good thing you knew your roommate was out partying all night and would return tomorrow afternoon with a major hangover.

Before you guys went to your dorm though, you had to drop by U.A. so that Shoto could get some of his stuff. He called Midoriya and informed him about the situation, leaving out the parts of the night where you were the one driving for him with the high speed chase as he went inside . All that Midoriya knew was that you somehow managed to involve yourself in the situation.

Because of that he was going to spend the night over at your dorm, so he could take care of you and that, that was all there to it. Nothing more and nothing less. Definitely no baby making processes involved. He made sure he emphasized that as he heard Kaminari in the background cheering and rooting for him.

Yelling along the lines he was gonna pop his cherry. He also heard the yells of disapproval from Iida, saying that it wasn’t moral of him to stay at your dorm when you only started dating just tonight(He also let them in that he finally asked you to be his girlfriend and that you agreed quickly, they all cheered at him for that).

He had to ask for their help in sneaking in and out of the dorms undetected. Promising that he’ll explain everything to their homeroom teacher tomorrow when he knows you were safe, sound, and comfortable.

After a lot of convincing and slight begging the whole class agreed to help. Also it wasn’t like their homeroom teacher, Midnight even cared. Actually, they managed to let her in on the whole situation, making sure she wasn’t going to be angry.

Being angry or furious was far from the expression she was making. Instead she was incredibly supportive of the situation, agreeing to let him go protect you for tonight without any punishment whatsoever.

Which made Iida livid, he was actually tempted to go to principal Nezu himself to report Shoto. A fact that you almost cried at and forced Shoto to stay at his dorms instead. Had it not been for Bakugo being the ultimate savior of the day.

Reminding Iida of how it was Shoto who helped him out back in his first year with the hero killer, Stain. Yeah, being the smart ass he is, he managed to discover the secret that Deku and Shoto hid so well.

At least it worked out in the end though, they helped him sneak into the dorms and quickly pack his stuff. Before he left though Kaminari and the boys managed to sneak into Shoto’s pants back pocket a little gift before he left.

I’ll leave it to your imagination what it was, just that the boys were teasing him, saying things like wrap it before you tap it and how consent was always important. Shoto could only chuckle lightly at their comments.

He knew why they were acting that way, it wasn’t everyday that the Todoroki Shoto was staying at a girl’s dorm, not to mention the fact it was his girlfriend’s! You grimaced back at the memory as you drove to your dorm.

Once the car was parked, you groaned and comically cried out tears at what happened to the car. There was evidence all over it of what had happened that night. Shoto promised to you internally that when you woke up, your car would be as good as new, courtesy of Endeavor's black card, of course.

He also knew that endeavor also had a new American Express Platinum Card from all the times he had to go back and forth from Japan to America for all his missions. Shoto would have to try that one out, once he’ll bring you to the states for his planned date next week when both of you are free.

You said you were a racer, right? He knew for a fact that there were lots and lots of racing games there in America. He was hoping he could join you in them, though an extremely dangerous sport.

He saw tonight just how much you loved it, so he wasn’t going to do anything to take that away from you. Instead he’ll help provide the resources and opportunities you need to grow in that field. Need a crew team? He’ll get the best one money can buy.

Practically a sugar daddy to you, you refuse it? Well looks like his baby doesn’t understand him, he wants to do this for you! You don’t need to repay him anything else but with your heart, love, and affection.

You see money as something that can’t be easily thrown away, yet you see your heart as something that’s easily dispensable. How could you not, Shoto was easily one of the most sought out guys in Japan.

It couldn’t make you help but wonder if you and your driving skills were enough to be worthy to stand by his side, of course they were. They were more than enough in fact, Shoto would argue. He’d argue that those sets of skills aren’t easy to achieve.

Plus your beauty and brains that come with it is practically impossible to beat. She didn’t even think his classmate, Yaoyozorou, was even gorgeous compared to you. To him, you were the most prettiest and badass bitch there ever was to live.

And he proves that the moment you guys stepped into your dorms. Hands on each other’s body as what he had promised to himself wouldn’t happened that night, actually happened.

Maybe it was from all the pressure his classmates and friends were putting on him. But no, it wasn’t. He could tell himself it wasn’t. To him, this moment was perfect, nothing could beat the rain and wind that began to pour down and swiss heavily, the cold that came with it.

It made it even more perfect instead as he activated his quirk to make you warmer, bringing you onto the bed, making sure he locked the door behind him. I’m ordered not to be disturbed by anyone else.

In the morning the both of you would not come to regret anything else. Except for the fact you both forgot you had a roommate, the moment she entered the dorm she screamed at the fact that not only did you bring a boy to your guy's dorm.

But that boy was Todoroki Shoto, the high pitched scream she made resembled a squeal of excitement looking back at it now. All you knew that the both of you yelled at her to get out as you pulled on the covers higher to hide the both of your naked bodies.

Making her promise not to tell anyone about what she saw just now, or you’d tattletail her to her parents that she’s been clubbing and drinking for the past year, which she clearly wasn’t supposed and allowed to do.

She agreed of course at the mention of the threat, a large pour present on her face as she closed the door behind her, asking if you guys at least used protection. Making the both of you even more embarrassed and angrier than before which of course she laughed at as you threw a pillow at the door she just exited from.

You both groaned in embarrassment, red blushing cheeks clear as day. As you both grimaced at the situation, glad that at least it was finally over. Smiling to himself, Shoto would internally remember to thank the boys for the little gift they left in his back pocket. For the great night he had wouldn’t have been possible without it.

[rustedhearts]

hot wheels: nascar steve harrington

set in nascar hot spot talladega, alabama in the mid 90s: midwestern-born nascar driver steve harrington has a crush on you, a small town waitress just trying to make ends meet. you can’t ignore his charm for long.

✶ raise hell

main masterlist

✶ disclaimer: i don’t do tag lists. ✶

[eddiesghxst]

older!NASCAR driver!eddie x pop singer!reader - the masterlist

iconic older!eddie edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

18+ — MINORS DNI

a series of mini blurbs where former NASCAR driver, Eddie Munson, falls in love with pop singer!reader <3

| main masterlist |

how it all started (a music video, a crashed car, and a paint job)

the first date

eddie visits you on tour

and more…

[porchlightfairy]

Nascar!Eddie kisses me goodnight and lives in my dreams

[speech bubbles in image “THINK I’LL GET A KISS AFTER THIS ONE” “You have a high chance of crashing than that”]

[holllandtrash]

now that we don't talk | charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader part 2 to say don't go

so i pay the price of what i lost and what it cost now that we don't talk

word count: 5.6k tags/warnings: slight angst, mentions of being disloyal, this is sad, pato o'ward makes a guest appearance had to rewind a bit because because this is charles' pov during and after the relationship - i promise we'll find the ending eventually

Charles was late to the welcome party in Vegas and maybe that was a blessing in disguise.

He showed up a little after 11pm as he really wasn’t in any sort of rush to make an appearance. This week was going to be a long one already and with the obligations piling on top of each other, he tried to spend the minimum amount of time doing what was required of him.

So on that Wednesday evening, he showed up over three hours after the recommended time of 8pm. Alexandra was with him, Alex as she preferred to be called. The coordinated outfits were her idea and Charles didn’t mind it, but it wasn’t an outfit he would have chosen himself. 

But they showed up, hand in hand and Charles found a few members of his team - or rather, Mark found him. 

“Did you know Damon Hill and his family are here?” Mark didn’t even start with a greeting. He did smile at Alex, out of politeness, but his interest lied with Charles knowing that the Monegasque driver hadn’t spoken to you in a few months.

“The whole family?” Charles asked with a breath, feeling the tense glance from his girlfriend. 

Mark nodded, “Yeah. Yeah they’re all around here somewhere.”

Here being the very large venue dedicated to tonight, to the inaugural Las Vegas Grand Prix. Members from each team, the drivers, invited guests and sponsors, everyone was here tonight. 

And apparently, so were you.

Mark was not the only person to mention to Charles that you were there, in fact Mark was the first of about eight people who felt the need to tell Charles that the girl he once spoke to was somewhere around.

Of course, no one could tell Charles exactly where you were, but it didn’t surprise him to hear you were leaving good impressions on everyone you had spoken to. You, someone who could part the red sea with ease, took a more delicate approach tonight. 

You were fully aware Charles was going to be there, but he was of no concern to you. You were polite to absolutely everyone you spoke to and if by chance someone mentioned that, ‘oh, Charles will be here eventually’ you simply smiled and nodded because you weren’t about to make any more waves in the motorsport industry. You preferred your name stayed out of the tabloids and what good would it be going around telling people how Charles broke your heart? 

There was speculation, of course. People knew you spent time together. Those online shared their opinions, right or wrong, thinking they could put the pieces together just based on the fact that he was seen in Paris with you one day and then in Monaco with Alex the next.

It didn’t help that you left England soon after, making only one more appearance in Formula 1 when you went to Spain. 

Charles still thought about that conversation, how calm you were throughout, not allowing him to take any piece of your dignity despite what he did, how he made you feel. 

Charles thought he was better off this way, with Alex. 

You were certainly better off. 

He didn’t like admitting it, in fact he probably never would, but he kept up to date with you, with your life. He saw on Instagram when you dyed your hair and then dyed it again and then chopped it to your shoulders. He saw when you spent time with the F1 Academy drivers, when you attended Nascar races, when you started spending more and more time with the Arrow McLaren team.

You had told him that you wanted to watch a few races, check out a few teams before deciding whether or not you wanted to pursue a career in the motorsports field.

And you had done just that. From the outside looking in, Charles couldn’t help but think that this was you just trying on different lives. Indecisive, certainly. But you looked happy, so who was he to have a say?

It shouldn’t have come as a shock when the news dropped of you being brought on as a Performance Engineer for the US based papaya team starting in 2024. The photo that accompanied the headline was you sitting at the pit wall in Portland, already with the orange headset on as you watched the race.

Charles was in Italy when he read the article. Just over three months after your relationship ended...but who's counting?

He had finished fourth that Sunday, not his worst race but his best one either. He was just on his way to his car, wanting to head to the airport when he came across the news on Instagram.

He wanted to congratulate you. He wanted to call you and tell you he was excited for this move, for this career you landed on. He wanted to joke that he could have gotten you a job at Ferrari if you had just asked. 

But you didn’t talk anymore so he couldn’t say anything. This was the cost of losing you. Charles couldn’t stay your friend, not after what he did, and in return, you were out of his life. 

It wasn't that he was looking for you that night in Vegas but he wasn't not looking for you. It was quite a large crowd that even he had trouble navigating his way around. Alex walked behind him, following Charles at a close distance. 

And truthfully, Charles tried not to compare you and Alex, but something about knowing you were in the vicinity had him thinking of what would be different if you had accompanied him tonight. 

You wouldn’t reach for his hand, but you would have lightly grabbed the back of his shirt if the crowd started getting a little suffocating. Just a slight tug on the material and Charles would turn around and assure you with a smile that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

The first time you did that, you were in Monaco. Those weeks he flew you out to spend time with him after only meeting once in the Ferrari garage. 

After leaving a nightclub, the crowd got a little rowdy- they all wanted a piece of him. You stood behind him as he walked to the car that was waiting but when people started moving closer you felt as though you were suffocating. Heart racing as anxiety crept up, a new feeling because you didn’t think you were claustrophobic but you had also never been in this situation before. 

You reached for the back of Charles’ shirt, hand brushing over the thin material before taking it between your forefinger and thumb. It was helpful for you, knowing that you could still touch him, feel him. It grounded you. A little bit of comfort amidst the chaos.

Charles turned when he felt the faint tug. He recognized the wide eyes, the fear that you tried to play off because this was normal for him. But it wasn’t normal for you so he raised his hand, sliding his fingers into yours to give you that gentle squeeze before finally making it to the car.

The anxiety faded the second Charles closed the door for you. He walked around to the drivers side and slid in, hand automatically finding your leg. 

He didn’t ask about it, the sudden panic. He knew you had been around large crowds a handful of times before. You weren’t in the public eye per say, but your father was and growing up you became used to it. 

But this was just different. Charles recognised it, and he knew moving forward he’d have to be mindful of it, of you, of how you were feeling. 

He wondered how you were doing tonight in Vegas, if there was someone else's shirt you were clinging onto this time. Or maybe that was something you saved just for Charles. He couldn’t ask, though. He wouldn’t know the answer to how you were feeling because you didn’t talk anymore.

He also had absolutely no idea where you were. 

Maybe you had left by now. It was getting late. If you showed up on time, which you probably did, you’d have been ready to call it a night thirty minutes ago. You’d have gone back to your hotel room and scrubbed your makeup off, changing into one of those matching jumper and sweats sets you always had. 

You craved comfort over anything else.

Charles remembered Paris. The first night. Not the night where everything fell apart right in front of him all because he couldn’t say those three little words back to you.

No, the first night was good. It was great, magical even. Charles had taken you out to dinner. The skin tight black dress you wore, the one with the low cut neckline - Charles still thought about it. He’d love to know if you still had it, if you wore it for anyone else but those were questions he kept to himself. 

He remembered at the end of the evening you were at your second wine bar, having come across this one completely by accident on your way back to your place. Charles remembered pulling you inside, suggesting that one more glass wouldn’t hurt anyone and you hesitated because it was getting late, but nevertheless, you followed. 

One glass turned into splitting an entire bottle at one of the high tables in the very back. This place was old-school chic with the decor and the 80’s records playing on low volume. It was nothing like the modern and elegant bar you had just spent the last hour in. No, this place was intimate, cozy and surprisingly you didn’t want to leave, even as the night went on. 

And that surprised Charles because you had joked at the beginning of the night that you wanted to be in bed by at least eleven. It was half 12 now and you showed no signs of trying to get back to your flat. 

“So do you or do you not like staying out late?” Charles asked, trying to get the proper read. His hand was resting on your leg, fingers daringly close to the hem of your dress. You were both way too overdressed for this establishment but no one seemed to mind. No one paid you two any attention.

You smiled and glanced around, wanting to bring light to the fact that no one had approached you since you stepped inside, but you didn’t want to jinx it.

“After a certain hour I like to be comfortable,” you answered. “There’s nothing comforting about a stuffy bar and loud music and people in your space who think they know you but they really don’t. And I like going out, I do, but I don’t like staying out longer than I need to.”

Charles nodded, understanding the point you were getting at. This wine bar was a hole in the wall, a hidden gem that provided you the comfort you desired. While you weren’t entirely alone, it certainly felt like it. You could laugh freely without worrying about being too loud or embarrassing. You could sit as close as you wanted to Charles without being cautious of who was nearby. It was just you and him. 

And you could have gone back home, but home would always be there. This moment, this bar, this was just as comforting and in the back of both of your minds, you knew it wouldn’t come again. 

You were right.

Charles would have rather been back in that corner of the wine bar with you now, back in Paris without the impending end of your relationship weighing over his shoulders. 

He wished he could relive that night over and over because for a moment, he thought that maybe, possibly, he could love you.

Charles blamed it on the wine. The way the dim light hit your delicate features was only accentuated because he was drunk. Your laughter was soothing, heartwarming even, but he reminded himself he had heard it hundreds of times before. You looked at him that night, a naive glow to you and it terrified Charles. 

He pushed that four letter word aside. He couldn’t love you. He couldn’t love anyone, he couldn’t have that commitment, not with his lifestyle- his career. If he loved you, you’d become a distraction. You’d want more from him and he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t give you more.

So when you told him you loved him only a few days later, he ran.

He ran back to Alex because she would never tell him she loved him. She wouldn’t put that on his shoulders, she wouldn’t carelessly hand over her heart that way you had. Because that’s what you did. You gave Charles everything, all of you and he didn’t know what to do with it. He wasn’t ready to give you everything in return.

He was left with a tainted memory of Paris.

So yes, he tried to think of that first night more than any other one. At least that memory was pure, wholesome. 

It wouldn’t have surprised him to find out you left this Vegas party already. Probably found the quietest bar on the outskirts of the strip. Or you might have even gone back to the hotel because what comfort could a bar bring you? 

Did you still think about that night in Paris too? Or had you tried to completely forget about your time together there? Again, Charles couldn’t just ask you that. You didn’t talk. 

But there were people here that you did talk to.

Charles spotted Pato O’Ward, the well adored driver in the IndyCar series. You may not have been hired as a performance engineer for his car, but you were going to be a crucial part of the Arrow McLaren team. Plus you had spent a handful of races with them already, sometimes in his pit lane box. 

They had met before, briefly but it was a long enough interaction that Charles didn’t feel uncomfortable approaching the Mexican driver. 

They chatted about the race happening this weekend, about Pato’s upcoming practice session he’ll be participating in in Abu Dhabi. Charles was friendly, he knew how to carry a conversation.

He also knew how to find out the information he couldn’t get first hand from you. Of course, waiting until Alex walked off to get another drink.

“I heard about Y/N joining the team,” Charles casually mentioned. “That’s exciting, she’ll be a good addition.”

“Oh for sure,” Pato nodded in agreement. He glanced around, as if trying to find you but he didn’t spend too long looking. “She’s a genius. We’re happy to have her. I’m surprised that she didn’t find a job in Formula 1, though. With her father and all and-”

Pato cut himself off, unsure if this was a line he wanted to cross.

But Charles chuckled, making light of the history he had with the new Arrow McLaren employee. The more at ease Pato felt, the more likely he’d be willing to talk about you.

“Honestly I could have gotten her a job at Ferrari if she showed interest,” Charles told him. He wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but Pato wasn’t going to talk if Charles was quick to shut down the topic of you. So he continued, “But she always talked about IndyCar. She only ever spent time at Formula 1 because of the history, because of her dad but her interests lied with your series. I think it’s because she grew up with Formula 1, you know, there was no more fascination. IndyCar is almost like a challenge for her…she did always like to challenge herself. I hope this career is good for her- I think it will be, I think it’s what she needs. I mean, I guess I don't really know what she needs but I hope she finds it at Arrow McLaren.”

Where the fuck did that come from?

Even Pato was a little taken aback. He didn’t show it on his face, but he certainly hadn’t expected Charles to say any of those words about you. There was a longing in Charles’ tone. He wasn’t just speaking highly of you, he was pulling from his heaviest memories, his cherished moments. He wasn’t just telling Pato everything that Pato probably already knew. Charles was reminding himself of the person you were, the person you still are. 

The person he didn’t know anymore.

Charles cleared his throat, “Do you talk to her? Or not so much in the off season?”

Pato moved on along with Charles, as best as he could, offering him a faint shrug, “I chatted with her earlier tonight. She’s in the middle of a move, actually.”

“To the states?” Charles asked.

“Bristol, I think,” Pato racked his memory but was confident with his answer. “She lived in Paris for a bit but is going to spend the next few months in Bristol before heading to the states at the end of February.”

Bristol did not come as a surprise to Charles. 

“If you could move anywhere, where would you go?” You had once asked him. Although, your timing was poor as you were both currently lounging on the front of his yacht in the French Riviera. Why would he want to move anywhere else when everything he needed, for the most part, was right here?

“I don’t want to move,” Charles gave you the answer you had expected. He turned his head to face you, arm resting on the back of the chair. He had sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose but he took them off his face and handed them to you when he realised you were squinting as you looked at him.

“I’d move to Bristol,” you told him, unprompted. His sunglasses were a little big for your face, but the gesture was sweet. 

“Bristol,” he repeated. “Why Bristol?”

“It’s beautiful,” you said. “Rich in history and culture. I’d live on the seaside. I’d spend my days in the market. There’s still a bit of a nightlife if I feel like going out. But It’s serene there. I’d be happy there.”

Charles sat up a bit, “Monaco has all that. Why don’t you just move here?”

You laughed. As if moving to Monaco was that easy. 

Regardless, Monaco was missing something you cherished.

“I enjoy the cold weather, Charles.” You said as if this wasn’t something he already knew. “Bristol’s like the perfect place. It doesn’t snow often but it still drops in temperature during the winter and if I wanted a white Christmas I could just drive a few hours inland. I can’t thrive in 365 days of heat. Sometimes I just want to make a cup of tea and curl up on the couch with a blanket.”

Charles admired a lot of things about you, but near the top of that list was how much you appreciated the little things in your life. You were raised in wealth, with a name that everyone was familiar with, but you were simple. You worked hard for what you wanted and you cherished what you had. You never asked for anything more and you were always content, never one to complain. You were probably the most down to earth person he’d ever met.

So no, it wasn’t shocking to hear that you had moved out of your flat in Paris to spend a few months in Bristol. To get that British winter one more time before moving for your career. 

“I’m sure she’s around here somewhere if you-” Pato stopped mid sentence, his eyes landing on something, someone, behind Charles. 

Naturally, Charles turned over his shoulder to look.

There you were. 

Part of your hair was pinned back with a pearl hair clip. You opted out of a dress, going for a matching skirt and cropped blazer instead, pairing it with a pair of heels only a shade darker. You were chatting with someone that Charles didn’t recognise, a champagne glass held delicately between your fingers. You were so into your conversation that you had no idea that you had gained the attention of not just one driver, but two.

Charles wasn’t the only one who was dying to spend some time with you tonight. 

He turned back at Pato and Charles would be lying to himself if he said his blood didn’t boil over at the way Pato was looking at you. He was envious in this moment. He knew you were larger than life, but you were such a well kept secret, his secret, and you were the farthest thing from that now.

Pato muttered something about catching up with Charles later and all Charles could do was watch as the IndyCar driver made his way over to you. You greeted him with a warm smile. His hand found your lower back with ease, like he had placed it there before. You handed him the champagne glass in your hand and Pato took a sip, holding it onto it, like that was normal. Like you shared drinks with him before.

And Charles knew he didn’t have any sort of right to care, to question, to even wonder what you were doing now but god it pained him to think that you were possibly, probably, sleeping with Pato O’Ward.

When did that start? Before you signed your contract or after? Did that matter? No of course it didn’t matter. None of it mattered because Charles was with Alex. He made that choice, he let you go. He foolishly, stupidly, regrettably, let you go and now he had to watch from the sidelines as you lived your life without him. You found the career you wanted, not in Formula 1.

If you were with Pato, there was no doubt in Charles’ mind that Pato treated you better than he did. He was a stand up guy, he was charming, he leaned in and whispered something in your ear that had you blushing in seconds.

How Charles was feeling wasn’t fair and he knew it. He knew he was in the wrong. He knew he couldn’t be jealous seeing you with someone else. You had moved on, you had every right to move on. 

He knew that it shouldn’t have taken seeing you with Pato to realise he had made a mistake. This was a conclusion he should have come to a while ago, honestly he should have never even let you go in the first place. And maybe he did know it and just didn’t want to admit it until it was screaming at him, a brutal hit to the face over and over until he just couldn’t ignore the bruises anymore.

He shouldn’t have let you go. 

But he did and this was the price he had to pay. He watched from the outside, watched you change and grow through the stories he overheard and pictures you shared. He was a mere crumb in your life now compared to when you handed him your heart on a silver platter. 

Charles regretted everything. He regretted that he left you waiting for him to say ‘I love you’ and at the very least, hoping he would say ‘don’t go’ and instead gave you nothing. Now he couldn’t say any of those words. Now you didn’t talk. 

He left the party early. Alex didn’t say anything on the ride back to the hotel. Neither did he. What was there left to say anyway?

But the silence from her left less of a hole than the silence he got from you. 

He sat in the hotel bar while Alex packed up her suitcase and asked the front desk for a new room. She wasn’t going to leave. Not yet, at least. Just give Charles the space he needed and honestly, Charles knew she was waiting for him to return to her once he came to his senses, like he did last time.

Because Alex gave him what he wanted. Comfort, but she didn’t ask for it in return. Adoration, but didn’t expect the love to be reciprocated. She played the part of the girlfriend and she played it well, accompanying Charles wherever, whenever. Alex thought that if she played the long game, Charles would love her. Charles would see a future with her.

You, though, you didn’t have time to wait. You weren’t going to sit ideally and beg for him to love you back. You weren’t going to tell him that you’d wait for him, that you’d be there if things with Alex didn’t work out. 

You moved on. 

Charles tried to accept that, really. He tried to just focus on the last two races and not about what you were doing. If Bristol was everything you dreamt it was. If Pato and you were together. He tried not to think about anything that revolved around you. 

He thought he could at least make it to the New Year, and maybe he would have. He might have reconnected with Alex on the 31st if he successfully went the entire month of December without his mind trailing back to you.

But the second his friend who resided in London called him up and asked if he wanted to attend a fashion show he was part of...well, it was embarrassing how fast Charles agreed to go. Because London was certainly closer to Bristol than Monaco was. And if he was in London, it was hard to find a reason why he shouldn’t just…go to Bristol.

Actually it was very easy to find dozens of reasons. Charles simply ignored all of them. 

He didn’t think this plan through at all, which was why he stood outside your door for nearly five minutes before knocking. What was he going to say?

For starters, he was really hoping you wouldn’t ask how he knew where you lived. Charles didn’t feel like explaining the hoops he had to jump through that may or may not have involved Joris at one point pretending to be your brother and calling your place of employment. 

It was fucked up. Charles could admit that. But if he could admit that, he could admit it wasn’t the only fucked up thing he did. Letting you walk away from him was at the top of that list.

When you opened the door, you weren’t upset to see him, but you weren’t happy either. Charles carried that vibe the entire time he was inside, starting from when you reluctantly let him in to the way you handed him his cup of tea without so much as a word. 

“How’s Alexandra?” You asked him. Charles could tell you were only trying to be polite. 

“Do you care?” He asked in return. 

No hesitation from you as you shook your head, “I do not.”

He always admired your honesty. He was still scared shitless at the way you could quite literally kill someone with kindness, but he also respected it. You were the only person he knew who’s gentle smile had the ability to send someone cowering. It was a skill, truly. 

“So let’s not talk about her,” he suggested and you nodded, but you also weren’t about to let the conversation carry on if it was pointless. 

“Charles if you don’t tell me why you’re here…”

He had an entire drive to figure out how he wanted to word this. He had a whole plane ride to put together the perfect sentence, the perfect mix of apologies and admittance and instead his mind was blank. He didn’t know the words to say to you, not after going so long without saying anything. 

But he lifted his head and met your eyes. He thought about reaching for your hand only to decide against it because your hand wasn’t his to hold anymore. 

“I shouldn’t have let you go,” he said, voice low, breaking almost. He shook his head, repeating it. “I made a mistake, I shouldn’t have let you go. I don’t want to be someone who’s not in your life. I don’t want to be someone who means nothing to you anymore. I-”

I love you, he wanted to say. 

Because he did. 

At least, he thought he did. At one point, he knew he could. If he could then, he could now, right? He could still love you. If you took him back, if you found a way to still love him, Charles wanted to love you back in the same way.

Or maybe he just didn’t want you to love anyone else.

“Charles you don’t know how to love anyone,” you knew exactly what he was going to say. And at one point, you wanted to hear it. Now, though? This was the one time you were hoping he didn’t say it.

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” you stated, like you knew him better than he knew himself. Maybe you did. “You don’t want to love someone, you just want to be loved.”

“I want to be in love with you.”

“That’s not the same and you know it,” your words could have cut through him like glass if your tone wasn’t so soft. 

Charles shifted uncomfortably. This conversation hadn’t gone as planned, but what was he truly expecting? You’d take him back? You were better off without him. Anyone could see that.

“Listen, I had to get over you and you weren’t even mine, Charles. Do you know how twisted that is? The only person to blame for my broken heart was myself because I knew, all along, you weren’t mine. I knew it and I went along anyway and I’m not doing that again. I will not love you again. I don’t need another wave of self destruction and false hope and unrequited love. I am happy, okay? I didn’t need you to come here with some sort of declaration that you can’t even say with your chest. I don’t- I don’t need that. I don’t need you.”

He still tried, still attempted to win you back with the what if’s but you saw through it. You cut him off before he could finish his question. What if I do need you?

You shook your head, staying firm with your decision. “It’s over now, Charles. It was over then and it’s over now.”

Charles believed that. He repeated your words the entire way home. He could never give you the closure you needed so you gave it to yourself and you seemed adamant that your past with Charles was going to stay there, in the past. 

He didn’t get back together with Alex. He couldn’t. He ended things the second he returned to Monaco. She asked if you were the reason and Charles didn’t really have an answer. You weren’t dating, but you were still there. In the back of his mind, in his dreams, everywhere he looked he saw you.

He didn’t think he’d actually see you again. He knew you were moving in the New Year. That you had officially gone on with your life. 

So imagine his surprise when you showed up at his door on New Years Eve. 

Smudged mascara under your eyes, an unopened bottle of wine in your hands and a dress that left very little to the imagination. Charles had hundreds of questions, for you, for himself, like was he just imagining this? 

And then you stepped past him, sliding your heels off and immediately going to his cupboard to pull out two empty wine glasses. It was a screw top, the bottle in your hands, Charles wondered where you got it but he didn’t ask. He just let you pour a very healthy amount into each of the glasses. He didn’t say anything when you handed one to him, you both just took a sip in peace.

Charles wasn’t sure where he found his voice, but he somehow managed to. And he said the stupidest fucking thing ever.

“I thought we were over.”

“We are,” you stated, taking another sip. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind him and you tried to wipe your undereyes but the dry pads of your fingers did little to help.

Charles stepped into the bathroom to grab one of those white hand towels that he hung on the rack. He ran it under some warm water before making his way back to you. He was hesitant to step close, but you didn’t flinch away.

So he raised his hand to your cheek, holding you still as he wiped away the stains of mascara, the remains of whatever you were crying over. His touch was gentle. You could feel his breath hit your face and you couldn’t help but glance at his lips. You hadn’t been this close since Paris.

“Thank you,” you whispered when he dropped the cloth to the sink.

Charles didn’t back up after. He stayed with his hand on the side of your face, even sliding his fingers against your scalp to get tangled in your hair. Something he knew you loved. You hummed at the feeling, how normal this seemed, like you weren’t the one to end things that last time around.

Unlike last time, Charles was the one to ask, “Why are you here, Y/N?”

You shook your head, wishing he could just accept this for what it was. You didn’t want to have a conversation.

So you reached for the front of his shirt, dragging your hand up to the collar as you brought your lips closer to his. The little twitch in the corner of your mouth, that faint smirk, it ruined Charles. His hand found your waist, he was only human.

“Please, Charles,” you breathed out. Not a beg, a request if anything. “Now is not the time to talk.”

[vivwritesfics]

Military Flyover

The dagger squad don't want to do a military flyover of the Las Vegas grand Prix. None of them really knew much about and, those that did only really knew about Nascar.

She hated the Vegas Grand Prix as much as those doing the military flyover. But the cute WSO there to support his friends was making it bearable.

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x F1 driver!reader

5.6K

a/n: yes a military flyover doesn't make sense for vegas buuuut let a girl dream lol - i'm hoping I've managed to write this for an audience that might not really know f1 but idk how confident i am in my abilities lol

Bob couldn't quite believe what the two time Top Gun graduates were having to do. They had completed an insanely dangerous mission and returned to be permanently stationed in San Diego, except from when they were called away for deployment.

They were a part of the military, why were they doing this?

Well, at least Bob didn't have to actually fly. He was a Weapon Systems Officer, he didn't have to take part in this. But he still went, more to morally support his squad.

Nat wasn't happy about have to do a military flyover of the Las Vegas Grand Prix. She, Bradley and Jake were constantly complaining. None of them knew anything about Formula One, not enough to appreciate doing the flyover.

(May I just say, even if they did know about F1, they still wouldn't appreciate it. They'd train for years to be in the navy and now they were having to waste their time on this.)

The flyover was on the Sunday. Only Natasha, Jake and Bradley were taking part. Bob didn't have to go, didn't have to visit the track on the Friday and the Saturday with the three of them.

But Natasha had begged him. "Drive up with me," she'd said to him. "It's five hours and I could use the company."

So, Bob agreed. His dad had sometimes watched Nascar while he was growing up. He didn't know much of anything about motorsport but, if Nat wanted him there, he'd go.

The navy pilots didn't know they'd been invited to meet the drivers. Bob followed Natasha through the paddock. "Getting to meet the drivers might be the only good thing thing to come from this," Nat mumbled as she led the way.

The paddock was buzzing with life. There were cameras following people around, interviews happening as they walked through the paddock. Fans stopped men in team shirts and hats for pictures before letting them continue.

There was a familiar whistle, just loud enough for Natasha and Bob to hear over the crowd around them. They turned and saw Rooster and Hangman striding towards them.

"Where are we meant to be?" Asked Hangman as Rooster pulled off his aviators and looked around. The three of them (Natasha, Jake and Bradley) were in their overalls, looking proper in their uniform. Bob, though. He was dressed down, wearing jeans and a sweater (Vegas really wasn't that warm this time of year), his military issued glasses sitting on his nose. He looked cute, even if he didn't know it.

"Cyclone said the Ferrari garage, right?" She said as she looked between the other aviators. Bob, who had studied the itinerary, nodded his head and the four of them set off towards the red garage.

***

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was a joke. All of the drivers thought so.

The Ferrari drivers weren't happy about it (just like the rest of the grid). They had spent the season struggling behind the Red Bulls and driving on an unknown track wasn't going to help that.

She needed a lot of mental preparation for this one. Just like the other drivers, before the first practice session her only experience on the track had been through sim racing. She was nervous in a way she hadn't been before.

She donned her red fireproofs, the overalls hanging from from her hips. She pulled her cap onto her head when there was a knock on her driver room door. "Yeah?" She called and the member of Ferrari staff walked in.

"The navy pilots are on their way," she said and went to back out of the drivers room.

"What?" The Ferrari driver called suddenly, her brows furrowed. "What navy pilots?"

The member of staff gulped. "They're doing a military flyover before the Grand Prix," she said. "They're on their way here to meet you and Charles," she said.

The driver let out a huff. She grabbed her drinks bottle and marched out of her drivers room, heading to find her teammate.

Charles was doing an interview for Sky Sports when she walked through the garage. She didn't much care, though. She powered on, her hand on Charles's shoulder as she stood at his side. "Chuck," she said, looking at her teammate.

Lawrence Barretto moved his microphone back to his mouth. "Is that his official name for the Vegas Grand Prix?" He asked and moved the microphone towards her.

"Yes," she said as Charles shook his head, repeatedly saying 'no'.

She stood beside him until the interview was over, answering any question Lawrence sent her way. As soon as they were done she grabbed Charles and pulled him away, pulling him further into the Ferrari garage.

"What's up?" Charles asked. He was a brilliant teammate, one of her best friends. They'd known each other for yeas and were close enough for people to think they were together at one point. Brocedes 2.0, many commented on the pictures of the two of them posted on the Scuderia Ferrari Instagram account, as if they were a disaster waiting to happen.

"Did you know we're having to meet the navy pilots doing the military flyover?" She asked, hands on her hips.

Charles furrowed his brows. And then his face relaxed as he shook his head at her. "Start checking your emails, please," he said.

She gently pushed him as a member of the Ferrari staff, the same girl from before, approached them. "They're here," she said and left them to it.

Charles led the way back through the garage, heading to where the navy pilots were standing around his car. Three of them, the three that looked the part, chatted with Fred while one, one that was dressed down, stood to the side.

Suddenly, she pulled Charles out of sight. "What is it?" He asked quickly, concern written on his face.

She looked back around the corner at the pilots for just a second. "Holy shit, Cha, I think I'm in love," she said and Charles just laughed.

"Do you need a wingman?"

She furiously shook her head. "Don't you bloody dare."

She steadied herself and followed Charles over to the navy pilots. Fred spotted his drivers first. He gestured over to them as he back away from the pilots, letting the drivers take over.

Charles held his hand out towards them introducing himself first. She went next, giving them her name as she reached out to shake the woman's hand.

"Natasha Trace," she said with a smile as she shook her hand. "Callsign Phoenix."

She moved on to the man with the moustache. "Bradley Bradshaw, or Rooster," he said and shook her hand, his grip firm. He wore a smile, but it was respectful.

Unlike the man next to him. She could tell who he was from the moment she looked at him, wearing that flirty smile. "Jake Seresin," he said, pulling her hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it. "You can call me Hangman."

The smile dropped from her face and she pulled her hand away, clearly unimpressed. She looked past him, at the guy in the sweater and the glasses. "How about you?" She asked, completely ignoring Hangman. "Are you in the navy too?"

Bob blushed bright red as he stepped forward. "Robert Floyd," he said and shook her hand. "I'm a weapon systems officer."

"Oh," she said. Just that one word and she sounded incredibly fascinated. "Do tell me more."

She'd asked Charles not to wing man her, but he did it anyway. She might not have been aware as Charles spoke to the other navy pilots, doing the job for both of them. (Charles didn't know if Bob was the one she had fancied, but it was easy to guess. He looked like her type).

They spoke for a good twenty minutes before the drivers were told to wrap up the conversation. "You got a call sign?" She asked Bob as she crossed her arms over her chest and leant against the wall.

Jake had been wrapped up in the conversation he, Rooster and Phoenix were having with Charles until that point. Upon hearing her question, he placed his arm around the WSO's shoulders and grinned at the driver. "This is Baby On Board," he said with a grin, going to pinch Bob's cheeks.

Again, his cheeks were flaming as he stepped away from Jake. "It's Bob," he said. "Just Bob."

"Just Bob," she repeated as she smiled at him, completely ignoring everything Jake had said (something that Bob was grateful for). "It's simple, I like it."

Her engineer called for her. She turned and put her thumbs up before turning back to Bob. "Are you staying for the free practice?" She asked and Charles couldn't stop himself from answering.

"Sorry," he said to the pilots. "She doesn't read her emails."

She sent a glare in Charles's direction. The drivers said a quick goodbye to the navy pilots (although she hoped it wasn't for the last time), and got themselves ready for the first practice session in Las Vegas. They pulled up the red and white overalls and placed the balaclavas over their faces.

Bob watched as she pulled her helmet on, hiding her undeniably pretty face. He really did think she was beautiful, and she seemed interested in him, but he wasn't going to read too much into that.

He couldn't see as she gave him a smile from beneath her helmet. When she climbed into the red car with the number 53 on it, Bob knew which one he had to look out for.

The track wasn't ready, everybody knew it. But they didn't know how bad it was until they shower of sparks coming out the back of her car. "What the fuck was that?" She said to her engineer down the radio. "I just hit a fucking manhole cover."

The pilots were leaning forward as she stopped the car. The session was stopped, the other drivers coming into the pits. She jumped out of the car, waiting for it to be lifted onto the truck so that she could look at the extent of the damage beneath.

As the car was taken back to the garage and workers surrounded the manhole cover, she climbed into the medical car and was taken back to the pitlane.

Bob watched as she stormed into the garage, pulling off her helmet and balaclava. "Nine fucking minutes!" She heard her say to somebody in a Ferrari shirt. "I officially hate the Vegas Grand Prix."

She looked around the garage, eyes focusing in on the pilots. They were watching her, too, and she forced her expression to soften as she walked over. "Sorry you had to see that," she said, unzipping her race suit.

Bob shook his head. "'s no worries, ma'am," he said before he could stop himself. When his fellow aviators looked at him, his cheeks flushed red.

"We're just glad to know you're okay," Natasha said for him.

The driver smiled at them. But the interaction was short lived as she was called over to her wrecked car. (It looked fine on the top, but everybody knew the damage was beneath, invisible).

The nine minutes of practice wasn't enough to help the aviators get into F1. Rooster, Hangman and Phoenix wanted to head back to their hotels, but Bob wanted to stick around.

"My dad was into Nascar," he explained as the others left. They nodded, but they knew better. Their Baby On Board had a crush.

She hadn't expect him to stay, that much was clear. She'd seen the other aviators leave and had gotten on with what she needed to do, speaking to the mechanics about the parts they needed to replace and speaking to Fred about the potential consequences.

"Oh!" She said when she saw Bob still sitting there. "I thought you would have left."

Bob gave a polite smile and shrugged his shoulders. "I wanted to learn more."

The smile she gave him matched his own. "Well, you're not gonna learn much here," she said. "Let me get changed and we can get dinner."

Bob didn't expect dinner to be in the Ferrari hospitality suite. He'd didn't exactly think he'd be going out to dinner with her, but he didn't expect this.

She sat Bob down at a table and got a selection of food for them to share. "I can't exactly go crazy," she'd said as she sat down opposite him, placing the single plate in between them. "I still have a car to drive later."

Bob grabbed something from the plate. "Why does that mean you can't go crazy?" He asked curiously, innocently.

Every question Bob had, she answered. He told her that his dad watched Nascar while he was going up but he couldn't get into it. Didn't have the time once he joined the navy.

She asked him all about that, just as curious as he was about her job. Bob knew she was meant to be this big celebrity, but she was normal with him, and he really appreciated it.

He hadn't known who she was going into this weekend, but he heard the way the fans screamed her name. She was so famous, and he was just a boy from Montana.

"Are you and your friends watching anything else of the Grand Prix weekend?" She asked as she ate a piece of lettuce (literally just holding a big piece of lettuce to her lips and crunching on it).

Bob shook his head as he looked down at the table in front of him. "'Friad not, ma'am," he said, looking at her over the top of his glasses. Bob didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he took them off.

"Aw," she said with a pout. "I liked them."

"Really?" Bob couldn't hide the surprise in his voice. "I used to have ones with slightly thicker frames, but these are military issued," he explained, putting them back on his face.

She grinned at him. "They're cute," she said, resting her cheek in her hand. It was undeniably flirty, and her grin was only making it worse. Well, that would have been if Bob could have allowed himself to believe that was flirting with him.

"I could get you tickets, if you'd like," she said. "You and your pilot friends. You can come back back to the Ferrari garage, support us for the rest of the weekend."

Bob gave her a gentle smile. "I'd like that," he said.

They continued chatting until she had to head back to the garage. Bob followed her, walking behind her.

She took him back to the garage, leaving him to stand with the rest of the Ferrari guests while she disappeared into her drivers room. Bob couldn't help but think of her as she got herself ready, getting dressed into her fireproofs and race suit. If Nat was here, he could ask her for advice.

Ten minutes before the start of FP2, she walked over to Bob. He'd seen her dressed down in a Ferrari hoodie and cute cargos, seen her in her race suit, and seen her in her fire proofs, race suit sitting low on her hips.

That was how she walked towards him. He'd seen so little of her, but this was his favourite (and he certainly wanted to see more). "Want to sit in the car?" She asked, hands on her hips.

***

The first thing she did after FP2 was give Bob her phone number. He couldn't quite believe it, and made a mental note to recount everything to Natasha as soon as he got back to the hotel.

"Have you got a way back to your hotel?" She asked, her helmet tucked beneath her arm.

"I, uh..." No, he and Natasha had gotten a cab together.

She waved him off before he could give her a proper answer. "I can drive you, if you'd like," she offered.

That was how Bob found himself sitting in an F1 drivers car, telling her about his childhood as she took him back to his hotel. He told her about his big family and the mountains he grew up around. He told her about when he joined the military, about his first time in Top Gun and his permanent stationing in Coronado.

Before very long they were pulling up outside of his hotel. "Well, here we are," he said, patting his legs. He didn't move to leave the car, but she didn't much mind.

"I really liked meeting you today, Bob," she said as she tapped the heel of her hand against the steering wheel.

"It was lovely to meet you, too," he said.

"Promise you'll text me?"

"Promise."

She held out her pinky finger and Bob wrapped his own around it, sealing the deal. He looked at her one last time and climbed out of the car, heading into the hotel.

Bob couldn't hide his smile as he walked through the lobby and into the elevator. Just days ago he'd hated the thought of a military flyover for the Las Vegas Grand Prix. Now, he couldn't wait to get back to the track, back to the Ferrari garage.

Nat noticed it the minute he walked through the door of the hotel room they were sharing. "Had a good time watching the rest of it?" She asked as she pushed away from the desk in the room.

Bob nodded as he pulled out his phone, clicking on her contact. But, the moment he was there, he didn't know what to say to her. "Nat," he called, looking up at her. "I need your help."

He only needed Nat's help to get the ball rolling. But soon, she and Bob were sending messages back and forth with just a second long gap between. Sometimes Bob took a little longer to reply, but only because Nat was reading the messages over his shoulder and assuring him that she was flirting.

Bob couldn't believe it. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't.

"I'll go with you tomorrow," Nat said as she climbed into her bed. It was incredibly late and Bob was hyper-aware that they were still texting. "Find out if she really is flirting with you."

"Nat..."

"Goodnight, Bob."

Natasha went to sleep, but Bob stayed up. She was still replying to his messages, and he couldn't bring himself to not respond. At least until she turned around and wished him goodnight.

When Bob woke up, she had already texted him. I don't have to be on track until later - wanna get food?

Who was Bob to say no? Natasha grinned as he got himself ready, including his glasses. (He had brought his contacts to Vegas because of how much he hated wearing his glasses. He didn't have time to put them in before they headed to the track the day before, but Nat didn't expect him to wear them now).

He walked out of the hotel, ignoring Hangman and Rooster as they called after him. They sat in the lobby, do doubt waiting for Natasha as they whistled at him.

Bob kept going. He saw her car before he walked out of the glass doors, and had to stop himself from breaking into a small jog. As he approached, she pushed open the passenger side door. "Hey, Robby!" She called, wearing a grin.

"Hey," Bob said, wearing a smile as he climbed into the passenger side.

As soon as he was buckled in, she began driving. "Have you ever been to Vegas before?" She asked as she headed towards the strip.

Bob shook his head. "No, ma'am," he said. It wasn't in the same way he'd said 'ma'am' before. No, those time he had been nervous saying it. This time, it was so fucking cute and she loved it. "I don't get enough leave for that."

"Why do you call me ma'am?" She asked, but she never wanted it to stop.

Bob couldn't stop his smile. "My momma raised me right."

That much she could tell. She parked the car and climbed out as Bob did the same. "Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

They went to a restaurant. Bob didn't catch the name of it as she pulled him through the doors. Even when sat gave the waiter her name, she was still holding his hand.

They sat down at a table for two. It felt far too intimate, almost like a date. She couldn't order a drink, but insisted that Bob did. He ordered one beer and made sure to make it last through their entire lunch.

She ordered a salad. Bob wanted to do the same, but she could see how conflicted he was. "Have whatever you want," she said, lowering her menu.

So, he did just that. Bob got himself a burger, the cheapest one on the menu (which was still incredibly expensive).

While they ate, Bob couldn't ignore the way her foot touched his knee beneath the table. He gulped as he reached for his beer.

While they waited, she told Bob about how she had grown up. Karting from a young age before moving onto single seaters.

The more she spoke, the more Bob could imagine getting into F1. Watching races, coming to see her in Vegas when he wasn't deployed. He just had to hope she still liked him enough to keep in contact with him.

They spent the entire afternoon together, until she was taking Bob to the track with her. Pictures of the two of them were taken as they walked through the paddock, too close to just be friends.

Once again, Bob stood in the garage while she completed the last practice session. She led, the fastest car until the Red Bulls were released onto the track.

But still, Bob couldn't stop watching the number 53 car. She came into the pits, had her tyres changed and went out a few minutes later.

Bob couldn't help but smile as he watched her climb the leaderboard. When practice ended, she didn't come in right away, doing a practice start with the other drivers.

When she got out of her car, she pulled off her helmet and balaclava, and spoke to her engineers. She had looked so happy when she climbed out of the car, but Bob watched as her face fell.

She walked over to him, unable to keep herself from sighing. The anger dropped from her face, replaced by sadness. "Wanna come sit in my drivers room?"

So, Bob followed her to her drivers room. She led him inside and shut the door behind him, letting out a breath as she leaned against it.

"Everything okay?" Asked Bob as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

She unzipped her overalls and let them fall to her hips. Bob shuffled over on the couch, giving her space. She sat beside him, shutting her eyes as she leaned back. "Because of the parts they'd had to replace in my car, I'm probably going to get a penalty later," she mumbled.

Her head fell onto his shoulder and Bob didn't move. He hesitated before wrapping his arm around her shoulder. That that, she shuffled slightly closer, which Bob didn't mind one bit.

Suddenly, she let out a weak laugh. "You're kinda making me want to stay in the states a little longer, Robby," she mumbled.

He looked down at her. "Would you? Seriously?" Bob could imagine it then, taking her to stay with him in San Diego, taking her to Montana to meet his mom at Christmas.

She shook her head. "I can't," she said and sighed through her nose. "There's one last race before the end of the season."

After that, Bob wanted to say. But he squeezed her shoulder instead.

When her trainer came in, Bob wished her good luck and headed back out to the garage. While he waited, he pulled out his phone and sent Natasha a text. She hadn't gone to the track with him, instead going with Bradley and Jake to the hangar they would be flying from.

If Nat showed Rooster and Hangman his texts, he'd never hear the end of it. But Bob realised he didn't mind. Let them talk, he was here with her.

The first round of the qualifying session was about to start. Bob sort of knew what to expect, she'd explained it to him while they sat in her drivers room, her head on his shoulder. He watched as she walked towards the car, her red, gold, black and white helmet on her head.

She climbed into the car and somebody strapped her in as somebody else spoke to her. She nodded at whatever they were saying and put her thumbs up.

Admittedly, Bob couldn't tell the difference between the practice sessions and the qualifying session. He watched as she went from having no time on the board to being the quickest car on track. But then she was knocked out of the top spot, down in eighth by the end of that session.

Bob had assumed that she was starting the race in eighth position after the eighteen minute long qualifying session. But then she and fourteen other drivers were going back out onto track.

Again she was at the top of the board, knocked out by the same driver. But she stayed in fourth, unable to get a quicker time in before the end of the session.

She went out for a third and final time. Bob heard her calling down the radio as somebody got in her way. But she put an impressive time on the board, finishing third.

It may have been obvious to everybody else in the garage, but Bob had to ask the girl standing next to him. She pushed her dark hair behind her ear and answered with a thick French accent. Bob thanked her and watched as the 53 car came into the garage.

She hopped out, did what she needed to do and came to find Bob.

It was near midnight and she couldn't quite believe he was still there, watching her. They'd spent the entire day together, and she'd loved every minute of it.

"Want me to drive you home?" She asked and Bob nodded his head.

She did just that, driving Bob back to his hotel. "They haven't confirmed if I've got a penalty or not," she said as she drove him. "So, for now I'm starting in P3." She quickly glanced at him and then looked back at the road. "Think you might be my good luck charm, Robby," she said and he blushed a deep shade of red.

She pulled up outside of the hotel, just as she had done the day before. And, like the day before, Bob was hesitant to climb out of the car.

As Bob reached for the handle of the door, she opened her mouth, ready to say something, and he stopped. But she closed her mouth. Still, Bob didn't move.

She sucked in a breath and tried again. This time, words came out. "Can I come up?"

Bob knew what that meant. How could he not? Some part of him had been wanting her to ask something like this for the last few hours. But still, he shook his head. "I, uh, I can't. I'm sharing my room with Nat."

"Oh," she said and looked down at the centre console between them. "Oh, shit. Are you and Nat- I didn't mean to overstep... I-"

Bob quickly shook his head. "No. No, Nat's my best friend, but only my best friend," he said. "But, her bed is a couple feet away from mine, so..."

She couldn't help but let a smile cross her face at that. "Can I kiss you, Robby?" She asked.

He leaned over the centre console. Her arms went around his neck, fingers playing with the short hair at the back of his neck.

Bob kissed her. He closed the gap between them, his arm awkwardly resting on her shoulders as his lips moved against her own. Her nose bumped the lens of his glasses, but neither of them minded.

If the expensive car left room for it, he would have moved her onto his lap. But he couldn't. He pulled away, staring at her as his eyes opened again. "Holy shit," he whispered and she grinned at him.

"I'll come and get you before the race," she said and Bob climbed out of the car.

***

He didn't wake up to a text from her. Immediately Bob's mind played tricks on him, telling him that, after they had kissed, she didn't want him.

He sat in the hotel for half of the day, in a perpetual state of anxiousness. Part of him didn't want to move until he heard from her, until he knew that everything was okay.

"You coming?" Nat asked him. He checked his phone one last time before following her out of the hotel room.

He didn't know what she was currently dealing with, that she had just found out about her grid place penalty. "This is such shit!" She cried as she and Charles walked through the paddock. She'd woken up to the news and hadn't had time to message Bob.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," Charles said, stopping to sign things for fans (signs, hats, and even a packet of oreos). "How are things going with the navy guy?"

She grinned as they kept walking through the paddock. "We kissed, Cha," she said, suddenly much happier.

"Kissed and..." Charles tried to push.

She shook her head. "Just kissed."

Charles nodded as they walked into the garage. "Just kissed, but you wanted more," he said. "Are you gonna see him before we leave?"

"Yeah," she answered. "I'm gonna go and pick him up before the race."

Through the evening, she and Charles did what they needed to do for the race. When she got a minute, she texted Bob, but she didn't have many opportunities to check her phone.

As soon as she had a chance, she ran out of the paddock. She held her phone to her ear as she went, making her way to her car. Bob picked up on the third ring. "Hey," she said, opening the door of her car. "I'm on my way."

Bob hesitated before he answered. "I'm not at the hotel right now."

"Do you still want to come to the race?" She asked quickly.

"Do you still want me there?"

She let out a laugh. "Of course I do, Robby. Give me the address and I'll pick you up."

That was just what happened. She picked Bob up and took him to the track. She promised the other aviators that she would get him there to watch the military flyover and drove off with him in the passenger seat.

"Have you ever been to San Diego?" Bob asked as she drove. It had been playing on his mind a lot since they kissed, his best case scenario (which was currently happening. He could have laughed at himself for being so worried).

She shook her head. "I haven't had a chance to explore outside of the places we have Grand Prix," she answered.

"So, you haven't been to Montana?"

"Nope."

Bob couldn't help but smile. He sucked in a breath, steadying himself. "I don't know when you're gonna have time off, but I could show you Montana, if you'd like."

She grinned at him as she parked the car. "I'd love that, Robby," she said and climbed out of the car.

She checked the time on her watch, grabbed her hand and began running. "I'm late!" She cried. Bob was only happy to run beside her, heading into the Ferrari garage. He slowed to a walk, but she kept going, running to her drivers room to pull on her fireproofs and overalls.

Bob watched it all. He watched as she stood for the national anthem with her fellow drivers, watched as she completed the formation lap from the back of the grid (something he had to ask about), and watched as she raced.

Bob couldn't help but be impressed as she fought her way across the track, racing past most of the grid. She overtook ten other cars, finishing in 5th.

When she climbed out of the car, Bob could see just how happy she was from her body language alone. She did what she had to do, spoke to the team and was interviewed, before she ran over to Bob and threw her arms around him.

"That was incredible!" He cried, smiling down at her. "I didn't realise racing was so exciting."

She grinned and kissed his cheek. "Think you'll watch next weeks race?"

"Definitely," he said.

He hadn't expected her to kiss him in front of all of the cameras. But Bob didn't mind. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close until she pulled away.

"I leave in the morning," she whispered in his ear. "Stay with me, in my hotel. One last night."

"Until Montana?" Bob asked, his forehead against her own.

"Until Montana."

a/n: ok i loved this and it may need a part two lol