Max Verstappen | Failure
There was never a time where Max Verstappen didn't win, well there has been, but at least not as catastrophically as this. He was so close - the finish line just inches away, if he had one more lap he could've done it, but instead Hamilton was able to pull away and snag the win. To say that Max was frustrated was an understatement, anyone could tell by the way he carried himself in the paddock afterwards that he didn't even want to be on the podium if it wasn't first. It was practically rubbing his mistakes in his face."Max, Max!" A younger reporter with an audio recorder and notepad calls as she jogs to catch up with the driver. "How do you feel about what went down today?" She asks as she catches up with him, clearly double checking that her recorder is on.
"No comment," Max retorts, he didn't intend for it to come out as aggressively as it did, but he couldn't help it. What had just happened on the track was an absolute shitshow, and it didn't help that everything between the end of the race and now was seemingly just rubbing it in his face. The air feels thick with the smell of gasoline and rubber from the track still clinging to his racing suit.
"No feelings towards Hamilton getting the win for Mercedes when you clearly had it handled?" She presses further, not really getting the signal that Max didn't want to talk to the media. The bright paddock lights sting his eyes after hours under the sun.
"I said no comment, now can you please leave me alone," Max snaps, stopping in his tracks to stare at the woman for a brief second before turning his gaze away and continuing his walk through the paddock. He didn't care about the reporters - or the cameras, or even the fans at this point. All he was trying to do was find you.
You were exactly what he needed right now. You were the eye of the storm, the calmness amidst the raging chaos. The issue was that he could not find you to save his life. Everywhere he looked, you weren't there. The Red Bull hospitality tent, the Red Bull garage, even the Red Bull motorhome, you weren't anywhere, and it was only adding to his frustration.
"Fuck, liefje, where the hell are you-" He grumbles underneath his breath, but was quickly interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. The unexpected touch makes him flinch.
"Hey! Don't fucking touch-" He snaps as he turns around, only to be greeted by you. A heavy sigh left his lips as his arms immediately wrap around you, pulling you as close to him as possible. The familiar scent of your cologne instantly begins to calm his racing heart. "I'm sorry, schat, I didn't mean to snap at you. I didn't know it was you," He apologizes softly, burying his head in your hair and breathing in deeply. "Can we head to the motorhome? Don't really wanna be dealing with the media right now," He mumbles against your hair.
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
FRIENDLY FIRE || Amber
When overthinking meets obsessive love. Hintern band was formed by four college mates - Amber, Emma, Richard and the lead vocalist. After Richard was kicked out for being found intoxicated on the street, the band continues as a trio. Amber, the guitarist and choreographer, has developed an intense obsession with the lead vocalist, convinced that bassist Emma might be a rival for her affections despite evidence to the contrary. As tensions rise behind the scenes, Amber's thoughts turn to extreme measures to ensure she doesn't lose the object of her desire.
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This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.