The speakers echoed across the racetrack, quickly drowned out by the scream of racer engines and spectators. The lights were blinding, the air hot and thick with exhaust fumes and dust.
His tyres burned, his breath came in short gasps as he pushed himself to his absolute limit in a desperate attempt to overtake, to win… to catch up.
This wasn’t what he was used to. His old life of easy wins, fame and fortune had long left him. Life had overtaken him, and Lightning McQueen was lightning fast no longer.
Yet he refused to give up. He refused to stop racing. He knew he would lose, and yet he could not give up. He refused to sink into history.
And so, he raced. He raced for himself. He needed to race.
Without the race, he was nothing at all.
The roar of an engine overtaking him snapped McQueen back to reality with a sickening jolt. ‘Come on MCQueen, keep it together!’ he mentally berated himself, throwing as much traction as possible into his wheels, willing his tyres to grip the road. No time to change tyres.
He knew Sally was watching from the stocks. Her smooth, metallic paintwork would be reflecting the floodlights. If he couldn’t win it for himself, he’d win it for her.
McQueen pushed himself even further than before, the roar of the wind pressure against his face becoming painful, and yet he was only just keeping up. He could feel his components burning his chassis; his tyres felt sticky and bald below him, his vision was blurred with the dust of the other cars and his own exhaustion.
Sound began to fade. The rumble of the tarmac, the screech of cars, voices, music all ebbed gently away from him as his vision closed to only the road in front of him. Soon all he could hear were gentle echoes of his surroundings and his own, rhythmic breathing.
A rush. He’d been lapped. The force of cars suddenly around him rocked his senses and he swerved. Had he clipped any other car?
No, they were long gone.
It was becoming harder and harder to steer.
The road undulated under him. His vision blackened. His hearing faded.
Left, right, left-
The tarmac left his tyres, and his side hit the crash wall before he was rolling, rolling, and into the air. He could feel pain, but it was dulled. Shock? How was he to know?
His breath, still ringing in his ears.
The colours dim.
The world a blur.
Lighting McQueen hit the ground with a metallic crash.
smut, 2.6k words, jungkook/reader,
racer/playboy/rich kid au
You go back to the racing scene as soon as you can; the temptation
of it all is too much. As usual, your pre-race routine consists of trading
banter with Jin, sipping a few drinks and–and–fuck. Jungkook just
winked at you.
“You know, I’m starting to get the feeling that he has the hots
for you or something,” Jin says dryly.
You raise a brow. On the street before you, the racers rev their
engines, impatient to start. “Why? Because he keeps on winking at me? He’s a playboy,
I think we’ve already established that.”
“Yeah, but–” Jin pauses briefly to watch the cars speed off,
engines roaring into the night–“I’ve never seen nor heard of Jungkook winking
at the same girl multiple times.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” you say breezily. You
take a big gulp of your drink in an attempt to quell the giggly, bubbly feeling
that’s making your heart flutter and means that you’re totally fucked.
After 3 months of work I finally finished the new radiator setup. I hope it works as good as it looks. For those of you wondering the cardboard wheel in the first photo is for mockup purposes… I know it looks kinda funny.