Alright So I Have Two Versions Again, One That I Wrote While Waiting In Line To Go See The Powerwolf

party rockin in the houseeee tonighttt

tag list!! lmk if you want to be added/removed! @97leclrc @ineedassistance28 @beebeebee2224 @33milian @mclarenyaoi @toppamplemousse @rubywritten @fleshmouth @aliassimes @formulanni @fopzaferrari @run2max @hurricane-heatt @three-days-time @crozierahegao @albonoooo @macbethot

max verstappen (community service) 🤝 kevin magnussen (race ban)

charles leclerc (saying fia has other things to prioritize and swearing on radio first chance he got) 🤝 nico hulkenberg (saying kevin's race ban wasn't justified)

lestappen 🤝 haasbands: having a common enemy (the fia)

Germans and the Finns they adopted

“Kimi doesn’t care about any-“ shut your disgusting ass mouth. And just LOOK

F1 x Neon Genesis Evangelion au

Max.

Story post to my previous drawing.

"Cut the signal! Shut it down!" Voices overlapped in his comms, frantic and useless.

His hands trembled against the controls. He wasn’t piloting anymore. He was inside something alive, something hungry, something that had always been waiting for an excuse to take over.

Max’s hands gripped the controls, fingers slick with sweat, blood pounding in his temples.

The Angel before him was relentless, its form twisting and shifting with eerie fluidity. Every strike was a surge of primal energy—a force that Max couldn’t seem to contain, no matter how hard he pushed Unit 33 to retaliate. His EVA was battered, bruised, the armor cracked and peeling away in places. But still, it stood. Still, it fought.

Another wave of energy hit, sending Max reeling inside the cockpit. He gritted his teeth, his body jolted violently as his EVA staggered backward, but it didn’t fall.

He couldn’t fall.

He had been fighting this Angel for what felt like days. The city around him had become little more than a memory—broken fragments of steel and stone scattered across the battlefield. But he was still there, still standing.

But he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

His vitals were spiking. The monitors flashed with warnings, but Max barely registered them. His breath came in ragged gasps, the LCL in his lungs thickening with each inhale. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through his body, the kind that echoed deep into his bones, but it didn’t matter. He had to keep going. He had to fight.

There was no room for weakness.

He wanted to retreat—just for a moment, to assess the damage, to regroup, to think. He wanted to find a way to make sense of it all. But every time the thought crossed his mind, his heart raced. His chest tightened. Because if he stopped, if he gave in, lives would be lost.

People were counting on him.

He was their perfect pilot.

A perfect pilot didn’t retreat.

A perfect pilot didn’t allow failure.

Not when there was a city to protect. Not when people needed him. Not when NERV was watching, waiting for him to perform—to succeed.

Max’s heart hammered in his chest. His breath came out in short, sharp bursts. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, for release, but he refused to listen. His hands trembled, but they didn’t leave the controls.

NERV had no patience for weakness. They never had.

They didn’t care if he was hurt. They didn’t care if he was dying.

As long as he was standing, as long as he was able to fight, he had no choice but to keep going.

No one else should do this. No one else could do this.

He couldn’t stop.

With a deep, shaky breath, Max drove Unit 33 forward again, the EVA’s claws scraping against the cracked asphalt. The Angel was already charging toward him, its limbs twisting and shifting, ready to strike once more.

His pulse raced. His sync rate spiked dangerously. The cockpit shook violently as the Angel’s tendrils slammed into his EVA, throwing him back again. Max’s vision blurred as he fought to maintain control, his hands gripping the controls so tight his fingers went numb.

Pain flooded his chest. Pain shot through his head.

But he couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t give up.

“Max! Your vitals—!” The voice crackled over the comms, but it was distant, muffled, like someone shouting from far away.

It didn’t matter.

Max’s jaw clenched, his breath harsh and uneven. The world around him felt like it was spinning, the edges of his vision darkening, but he pushed it all down. He could still fight. As long as he could move, as long as he had breath in his lungs, he could keep fighting.

He had to.

He was their perfect pilot. The one who never stopped. The one who never failed.

Even as his body screamed for rest, even as his mind teetered on the edge of exhaustion, he kept going. Because the world demanded it.

Because they expected it.

A flicker at the edges of his vision. The sync rate display spiked.

85%... 90%... 94%...

He growled, shaking his head. "Not now. Not yet."

A second strike. The Angel’s attack tore into Unit 33’s plating, exposing the writhing mass of muscle beneath. Pain surged through him—not real, but real enough. His nerves lit up as if he had been struck himself. The sync rate climbed again.

97%... 99%...

"Max! Keep control!" The voice—his comms officer? His strategist? He couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter.

The anger came in a wave. A deep, all-consuming heat. The walls of the entry plug pulsed around him, the LCL thickening, as if alive. The heartbeat of the EVA—his heartbeat—pounded in his ears.

100%.

Then, silence.

It felt like hours had passed.

Unit 33 twitched. Its jaw cracked open wider than it should. A low, inhuman snarl vibrated through the battlefield.

The EVA moved—and Max wasn’t the one moving it.

With a deafening roar, Unit 33 launched itself forward, faster than before, limbs contorting, armor splitting as its organic form expanded. It tore into the Angel like a rabid animal, ripping through its core with bloodied claws. The once-monolithic creature writhed and screeched, but Unit 33 didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop.

Max gasped, trying to override the controls. Nothing responded. The EVA thrashed wildly, breaking the Angel apart piece by piece, ignoring the fact that it had already won. The thing was dead. And yet, Unit 33 was still moving, still destroying, still devouring.

"Cut the signal! Shut it down!" Voices overlapped in his comms, frantic and useless.

His hands trembled against the controls. He wasn’t piloting anymore. He was inside something alive, something hungry, something that had always been waiting for an excuse to take over.

The last thing he heard before everything went black was the sound of his own laughter—low, broken, and not entirely his own.

—

The cockpit disappeared.

The battlefield disappeared.

Everything disappeared.

—

Max floated.

Drifting in a vast, endless sea of nothingness, weightless. lost in a space without shape, without form.

It was as though the air itself had melted away. There was nothing. No edges, no boundaries. Just an infinite softness wrapping around him, enfolding him like a cocoon of silence. He couldn’t name it—the color, the sensation. It wasn’t light, but neither was it dark. It was... something. The absence of something. Or everything.

Every time he tried to name it, the thought slipped away, like sand through his fingers.

A slow breath.

The emptiness felt warm in his chest. It wasn’t his breath. It wasn’t his body. But the air still moved. It still filled him, and in that slow rise and fall, he felt something.

He knew this place.

A sense of relief bloomed, quiet and deep. It was as though something heavy had been taken from him, something unspoken, something he had never let himself acknowledge. A breath that he hadn’t known he was holding.

He Knew. Unit 33 was tearing apart the Angel—or worse, something else.

He could hear it. NERV was screaming through comms, trying to reach him.

But he didn’t care.

Because this was the only place where he could be vulnerable.

No battle. No expectations. No weight crushing down on his shoulders, forcing him to be perfect. Here, he didn’t have to hold up the façade of strength, didn’t have to wear the armor he’d built around himself.

Here, there was nothing.

And in that nothingness, it was waiting for him.

A figure stood above him. Watching. Protecting.

It had no metal, no restraints, no plating to hide behind. It bared its true form—muscle and sinew, raw and unshaped, not human, but something close. Its eyes, deep and endless, held something he couldn’t name. It reached for him, but did not touch him. It didn’t need to.

Its presence was vast, too large to understand, and yet its outline was etched into his mind as if it had always been there. It didn’t move, but he felt it, hovering above him like a shadow without a form. Or maybe it was light—he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that it was watching.

A strange pulse—faint but unmistakable—washed over him, and the space around him seemed to shift, as if the very nothingness breathed with him.

He felt held.

It was holding him.

Keeping him safe.

It was not a grip, not an embrace. It was a knowing, an understanding that didn’t need words or touch. It existed between the silence, in the place where nothing could reach him.

And for a moment, he allowed himself to float in it.

Weightless.

There were no edges. No time. The concept of moments felt like waves, but they never broke. He drifted, and yet he didn’t move. And somewhere beneath it all, he could feel it—the thing that had always been there.

He didn’t know if it was his.

He didn’t know if it was him.

But it was with him.

His fingers twitched. His body, for the first time in so long, felt light.

His eyelids grew heavy.

He let them close.

His mind felt detached, his thoughts soft like ripples in water, fading before they could take shape. There was no rush. No urgency. Only the slow, quiet rhythm of something waiting.

The figure above him remained, and in its presence, he didn’t feel the need to understand. He only existed—floating, breathing, and being held by something that wasn’t quite light, and wasn’t quite shadow.

A moment, perhaps. Or maybe, no moment at all.

It didn’t matter.

He let go.

Let it take over.

And for the first time in a long time, Max rested.

Simi!

And again it’s dramatic hurt and angst (kinda) but they are happy (but bruised) in the end I promise.

I wrote this at 4am and haven’t proofread it but I’m sharing it anyway bc I love y’all.

Hope you enjoy my mindless drabbles!

And quick disclaimer: this Drabble contains depictions of a crash and light wounds. The content is purely fictional and this crash did not happen irl

It happened so quickly. Kimi doesn’t even remember stopping his car. He still feels how his heart stopped when he ran towards the crash. As he was sitting in the hospital he looked down at his bandaged arms before leaning back against the wall with a deep sigh. The events that had happened only a few hours ago replaying behind closed eyes:

Approaching the upcoming turn, Kimi saw Sebastian's car twitch violently, the rear tires losing grip on the unforgiving asphalt. The Ferrari spun out of control, veering sharply and slamming into the barriers with a deafening crash.

Time seemed to slow as Kimi's heart lurched in his chest. His breath caught, his pulse thundering in his ears. The sickening sound of metal crunching and the sight of Sebastian's car crumpling like a soda can filled him with a dread he had never known. His instincts took over, and he eased off the accelerator, his mind solely focused on his best friend.

"Kimi, maintain your position! Are you hearing us? Maintain position!" A voice barked over the radio, but Kimi barely registered it. He pulled his car to the side of the track, ignoring the frantic commands blaring in his ear.

Fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins, Kimi vaulted out of his cockpit and sprinted towards the crash site. The acrid smell of burning rubber and the sight of the smoking wreckage fueled his desperation. He pushed past marshals and safety personnel, his usually calm demeanor shattered by raw panic.

"Sebastian! Seb!" Kimi shouted, his voice strained with fear. He reached the car, the twisted metal and shattered carbon fiber a horrific sight. The medics were trying to extract Sebastian, but Kimi couldn't stand by and watch. Without wasting any more time on useless thoughts, he dove in, heedless of the jagged debris that tore at his suit and skin.

Ignoring the searing pain in his arm where a piece of sharp metal had gouged him, Kimi focused on freeing Sebastian. He grabbed the edge of the cockpit, his hands slipping on the slick surface as he pulled with all his strength.

"Seb, can you hear me? Stay with me!" Kimi's voice cracked with emotion, his vision blurring as sweat and tears mingled on his face. He could see Sebastian's eyes flicker behind his visor, a small, dazed movement that gave Kimi the strength to keep going.

Suddenly, flames erupted from the rear of the car, licking hungrily at the exposed fuel lines. The sight of the fire caused his breathing to stop and despite the growing heat Kimi’s body went cold with fear. Sharp edges of broken carbon fiber and metal cutting through his gloves and skin. Kimi’s hands, now bloodied and trembling, fumbled with the buckles and straps of Sebastian’s harness.

He pulled with all his might, finally yanking Sebastian free from the smoldering wreckage. With a final, adrenaline-fueled burst of energy, he dragged Sebastian away from the car, just as the fire engulfed it completely.

As safety crews finally extinguished the flames and lifted Sebastian onto the stretcher, Kimi’s vision blurred from exhaustion and pain as he collapsed to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood trickled down his arm, the pain a distant echo compared to the relief flooding his system.

"Kimi, there is a second ambulance arriving shortly for you but we need to get Sebastian to the hospital right now” one of the medics said firmly, but Kimi shook his head, his bloody hand clutching Sebastian's gloved fingers.

"I'm coming with you, I’m not leaving him" Kimi insisted, his voice a determined rasp. The medics relented, allowing him to sit beside the stretcher as they hurried to the hospital simply because they couldn’t waste any time.

Inside the hospital, the chaos of the track seemed a world away. Kimi hovered near Sebastian, his injured arm throbbing but his attention solely on his teammate. He watched as the medics assessed Sebastian, telling doctors to fuck off and concentrate on Seb whenever they tried to assess Kimi’s wounds as well.

The tension in his body slowly easing as they confirmed that Sebastian was shaken and bruised but largely unhurt. Only then he allowed the doctors to treat his cuts as well.

Sebastian turned his head, his eyes finding Kimi's. "You look worse than I do," he murmured, a weak smile playing on his lips.

Kimi let out a shaky breath, a smile of his own breaking through the worry. "Just making sure you’re okay, Seb" he replied, his voice thick with relief.

In that moment, surrounded by the beeping monitors and hushed activity of the medical team, Kimi Räikkönen, the unflappable Iceman, felt the warmth of his emotions thaw his usual reserve. He had risked everything to be there for Sebastian, and as he held Sebastian’s hand, he knew he would do it again in a heartbeat.

STAY SAFE!! [ID: the Gilbert Baker pride flag with the words “Happy pride to all those who are unable to celebrate openly and safely. You are loved and seen!” in all-caps black text over it. /end ID]

I’m sorry WHAT???

UNDER MY F1 EVA POST 😭😭🙏

Deleted this bc what the actual fuck

Idk why but I thrive on angst and hatred centered fics so that’s probably what I’ll post here the most 🥰💅