The Big Race - Lightning McQueen x Reader

Chapter 2

A.N.: Thank you so much to @Coolcoolcool24 who made that beautiful portrait of Lightning. I'm so grateful for all of my readers who are coming on this journey with me. I hope you guys are excited for the next chapter, I know I am.

It's been two days since my "accident," and everything has been pretty calm since then. I've been thinking about what happened a lot lately, not that I could avoid it either, it's been all over the news stations.

I wasn't a fan of Lightning McQueen, the most well known heart-throb in all of the United Streets of Carmerica, but what would have happened to me if he wasn't there? I was only 21 years old, barely making a dent in my mileage, I wasn't ready to die, and I didn't mean to go driving while I was so tired, but I had no other choice.

Even though everything that happened was entirely my fault, Lightning didn't have to be such an exhaust pipe about it. This was the exact reason why I couldn't stand vehicles like him, always getting everything they could ever want. Not everycar could have the perfect life of Mr. Lightning McQueen. Some of us have had to work their tail lights off since they were still in their manufacturing stage. Some of us didn't have the time or resources to grow a speed racing career. And some of us didn't have the support from their families to pursue their dreams, only being what their parents wanted them to be.

A loud metallic bang from the other room ripped me from my thoughts. My engine began to beat fast. Who, or what, could have done that? It was three in the morning. I slowly went to the corner of my room and grabbed the lamp from my nightstand, trying to make as little noise as possible.

When I reached my bedroom door I slowly opened it a crack, cringing when I heard it creak. Pausing in my tracks, I listened to see if the intruder heard anything, but it seemed like they were unfazed.

Feeling brave I decided that I was gonna go out there guns a-blazing. Feeling the gasoline pump through my pipes, I stretched my wheels in preparation.

Not even thinking about it, I immediately hit the gas, slamming open the door. I hit my brakes, drifting into the kitchen and leaving skid marks on our living room floor.

I lifted my lamp preparing to come bumper to bumper with a ski masked burglar, but instead I found myself looking up to find the spooked face of my roommate, Stella, picking up a pot from the ground.

"What in carnation are you doing?!" I yelled, placing my lamp onto the kitchen table.

Stella stared at me for a second before breaking down into laughter. I parked there in shock, not knowing what to do. By the time she was able to speak again, there was oil dripping from her eyes. She wiped them away before responding.

"What did you think a lamp was going to do?" She questioned in between giggles. She turned around and placed the pot back onto the stove, turning on the heat.

"It's better than nothing- wait, are you making food at this hour?!" I asked incredulously.

"I'm making soup, you want some?" she pulled out a can of windshield wiper gumbo and poured it into the now warm pot. "This is what my mom would always make for me whenever I wasn't feeling well." She opened up the fridge and pulled out some carrots to chop up.

"Oh, my mother never did anything like that for me." I quietly stated, more to myself than anything.

Stella looked at me for a second, understandingly.

"I'm sorry if I woke you, by the way, I just woke up with a runny oil filter, so I figured I would do what I could to prevent a full-blown cold," she told me.