Human!Lightning McQueen x Reader (Title TBD)

But All Dreams Must Come to an End

3/1/24
(A/N: I very much struggled with the one. I needed it to be perfect, but I think I am satisfied with where it went. I might come back and heavily revise this chapter, but we shall see. Enjoy!)

The sound of helicopter blades slicing through the nighttime air like a flurry of knives got louder, and soon began to echo. Two more blinding spotlights appeared. There were clearly multiple helicopters hovering in the sky above. The headlights from the road were also getting increasingly closer at an alarming rate now ever since that woman in the helicopter radioed out McQueen's presence. The fancy cars and news vans and limousines drove up as close as physically possible, parking wherever they could amongst one another.

You and McQueen watched in alarm as hundreds, no, thousands of people began running out of the vehicles, cameras and microphones in hand. They trampled not over their own feet but each other as well as they all clamored and stampeded towards you and the others. They were already screaming and shouting, but hit a single word could be deciphered with the never-ending layers of voice overpowering each individual one. This was something you had never seen before, and it terrified you. So much chaos, so many bright flashing lights that left you bonded and overstimulated, and so many people rushing right at you at full speed with a wide array of expressions ranging from determined to needy to just plain demanding.

McQueen went to grab your wrist so that he could keep you near him, to protect you by blocking your body with his, but he was too late. The paparazzi were far too fast. They circled him immediately without hesitation, trapping him in a large ring of flashing cameras and yelling people that left him feeling like a small fish being circled by every shark in the sea. He felt so small, helpless, and vulnerable. He felt like prey.

You tried to watch out for not only McQueen, but to make sure your friends were okay, but it was impossible. The paparazzi swarmed you just as fast as they did McQueen, shoving cameras with dazzling flashes and huge microphones in your face from every direction imaginable. You tried to protect your eyes with your arm, but there was no saving you. You took a few steps back in attempt to regain even an inch of personal space, but there was no escape. You, too, felt like prey. The only difference between you and McQueen is that you were absolutely positively not used to this at all, and it left you feeling overwhelmed, panicked, terrified, blinded, near deaf, and on the verge of insanity.

"What is your relation to McQueen?" One reporter asked.

"She has his jacket!" Another pointed out.

The comments and questions all came at once, nothing but a slew of words. "Are you his girlfriend?" "Are you and McQueen in a romantic relationship?" "Would you say you're his biggest fan?" "Are you the lucky girl the rookie had eyes for?" "Do you actually love him or are you after the fame and money?"

"Lightning!?" Your voice came out shrill at it shrieked into the night. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to protect yourself. The reporters and news casters and photographers continued to fight for dominance over one another, fighting their way to the front of the ring only to eventually be pushed back or straight up stepped on and over. Their cameras and microphones were forced closer and closer to your face. In attempt to defend their front most position in all the commotion, people reached out to try and pull others back, accidentally grabbing you in the process whether it be your hair, your shoulder, or the sleeves of McQueen's jacket.

"(Y/N)!?" Was that Lightning? You could've swore you heard his voice. And there it was, you were certain. A very brief glimpse of blonde hair and striking blue eyes only to disappear almost immediately as you were hit right in the face with another camera flash. The thing had have been mere inches from your face.

"Lightning!" The answer to his call. You yelled out with more confidence and certainty this time. The demanding questions kept growing in number and volume. The camera flashes grew brighter and brighter. The circle of people grew tighter and tighter. You felt claustrophobic as if the world was shining around you, which it kind of was. You felt constricted as if being squeezed to death by a snake, with you kind of were. You felt your body being pressed tighter and tighter against itself, unable to tell whether it was all in your head or if the paparazzi finally was right on top of you in a literal sense.