mars

nonbinary/ace (they/them)

[marsrblg]

"𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬."

───────── ❝ ♂ ❞ ────────

interactions from @tokyocyborg !!

writing blog @niki-phoria :)

[niki-phoria]

Hellllooooo!! (,,> ᴗ <,,)

Can i request kimi x male reader where reader is a really skilled f1 driver but theyre also an university student so theyre just in a constant loop of trying to keep their grades up/consistent and perform good enough in races (and kimi and him are seen as ‘rivals’ in the grid) to not let people who support him down—so like maybe after another race theyre hanging out (in a hotel or home whatever u’d like tbh!) and kimi is just trying to hang out w his bf but reader is persistent about studying……you can do whatever u want w the story i compeletely trust ur vision!! sorry if this was a bit messy 😓😓😓😓😓

(side note: I absolutely LOVE your works!!! You’re so amazing🥹🥹Have a good day/night, and sorry for the trouble!!)

as you fall fast asleep, it reminds me / of the slow symphonies behind me

♫⋆｡♪₊˚ pierce the veil - chemical kids and mechanical brides

(gn! uni student! f1 driver! reader / fluff / 1k words) kimi pulls you away from your homework to cuddle

"YOU'RE CRAZY."

KIMI ANTONELLI scoffs beneath his breath when he enters your shared hotel room. light briefly filters in through the hallway behind him. it stretches across the floor, shattering the darkness your eyes had grown accustomed to, for better or worse. 

the door closes behind him with a loud click! he maneuvers around the room until he reaches the desk, turning on the small lamp in the corner. you flinch at the sudden influx of golden light. your eyes protest when you squint, still trying to make out the mess of words dancing across your computer screen. at least, until kimi reaches over, taking your left hand into his own. 

“kimi—”

“no, you can’t be serious about studying right now.” kimi’s hand finds your jaw, turning you in the hotel’s rolling chair until your body is facing his. he’s still in his mercedes team kit. the fabric, once loose on his frame, now curls tightly around his biceps. stray curls poke out from beneath the hem of his royal blue cap. his eyes are tired the way they always are after a hard race. 

“i wasn’t studying,” you protest weakly. your gaze falls away, almost ashamed. you try to ignore how he leans in even closer. the thought is enough to send butterflies throughout your stomach. “i was just… finishing an essay.” 

kimi murmurs your name through a soft sigh. his hand moves to instead cup your cheek, gently coaxing you to raise your head once again. you oblige just enough to meet his gaze. kimi smiles softly. the corners of his lips curl upwards into a small grin. his face is flushed, likely from the hours you had spent in the sun giving interviews and taking photos with fans at the track. 

“you’re impossible,” he whispers, almost fondly. you offer a sheepish grin in return, sparing a glance back at your still half-finished essay. whatever ideas and half finished sentences had been plaguing your mind had now almost entirely disappeared. instead, you busy yourself with leaning into the feeling of kimi’s touch. 

his hand gingerly strokes against your cheekbone, tracing over the expanse of your skin. you can’t help the quiet sigh that escapes your lips. admittedly, your head had begun to ache about an hour ago. the sharp pounding against your temple was a far less appreciated distraction from your work. 

“when is the assignment due?” kimi asks. 

“few days,” you mumble. “wanted to finish it before we leave so i don’t have to worry about it on the plane.” 

kimi frowns. his hand shifts again, now moving to brush a few stray hairs away from your face. his nails gently massage at your scalp. the feeling sends shivers racing down your spine. 

“come take a break, at least,” he finally says. “let me have you for a little while.” 

his offer makes you pause. you glance back at your still-open computer. the screen has gone dark from inactivity, now filtering through the screensaver. your shoulders had begun to ache at some point and your back was beginning to cry out from the uncomfortable hunched position you had undertaken without noticing. kimi notices, sealing the deal with a small kiss pressed against your forehead. 

you nod, finally giving in to your body’s need for a break. kimi takes the opportunity to close your computer as you stand. his arm finds the small of your back as he guides you towards the single bed in the middle of the room. it was a bit of a tight fit, but you could never complain if it meant curling up with kimi. 

you shuffle beneath the sheets almost in a daze. kimi is quick to follow. he tugs his team kit off for the first time since the morning, leaving him in nothing more than an old pair of your sweatpants. he reaches over, tucking the blanket around your body and tugging you to lay against his chest. 

you sigh contently, drumming your fingertips against kimi’s bare chest. his skin is warm beneath you. his heart beats steadily beneath your ear. you wonder if your breathing is synced along to its rhythm. 

“the press asked about you again,” kimi murmurs, tentatively breaking the silence. his hand wanders beneath your shirt to rest against your back. you had grown accustomed to his constant need for physical contact but the feeling sends shivers racing down your spine nonetheless. 

“yeah?” you blink up at him lazily. your hand finds the thin string of his necklace, absentmindedly twisting it between your fingers. “anything new?” 

kimi shakes his head. “just more rumors about our rivalry.” you can feel his hand move against your back, beginning to trace miscellaneous shapes against your skin. “someone asked if you resent that i’m leading the championship right now.” 

you can’t help but laugh, then. you glance up at him, failing to bite back an amused smile. “resent?” you repeat. “that’s a strong word.” 

kimi chuckles. “i know. i was surprised, too.” 

“you know it’s all just gossip, right? i won’t let anything happen to us.” 

for a moment, kimi stays silent. he looks down at you, lips curling into a soft, fond smile. your eyes flutter shut on instinct when he leans in, gently pressing his lips against your own. your mouths move in a familiar dance. you each take and give until your lungs are burning for air. kimi’s hand comes up to cup your jaw. he tilts your head to the side as his tongue glides against your bottom lip. you gasp into his mouth and he takes the opportunity to pull you even closer. 

you’re almost panting when you finally break the kiss. kimi’s hands roam, coaxing you until he’s hovering over your body, pinning you against the mattress. your breath hitches when his lips ghost against your neck. 

“i love you,” he murmurs. the words vibrate against your skin. your hands tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck, constantly chasing after his touch. you’re barely able to repeat the phrase yourself before kimi is stealing your breath away, silencing all of your worries for the rest of the night. 

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and always appreciated <3 thank you so much for the req!! i hope you enjoy :)) and thank you for the kind words, had to throw in a mention of his biceps #needthat

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or reblogging!! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my f1 masterlists here and here <3

[niki-phoria]

i only need one hand to drive when you're with me / you are my getaway

♫⋆｡♪₊˚ pierce the veil - yeah boy and doll face

(gn reader / comfort / 711 words) hungary 2026 comforting oscar after a hard race

OSCAR PIASTRI ENTERS HIS DRIVERS ROOM CARRYING THE WEIGHT OF YET ANOTHER DISAPPOINTING RACE. he’s still frustrated — you can tell by the way he grits his teeth. his jaw is tight and his shoulders are uncomfortably set. you’re almost able to feel the tension in his muscles, keeping his entire body tight. his head aches. there’s a violent pounding against his temples. the feeling only makes his irritation grow. 

“osc,” you murmur. your voice is quiet, almost overpowered entirely by the voice in his own head. you’re standing in front of him, now. your eyebrows are furrowed slightly and your lips have tugged into a small frown at the corners. 

a second passes. then two. oscar stares down at his shoes like he’ll be able to reverse time if he tries hard enough. he can feel your gaze on him. your eyes scan his features, taking in the sight of the exhausted man before you. stray strands of his disheveled hair fall into his view. each breath is strangled, like he has to force the air into his lungs. 

slowly, you raise your hand to cup his face. your touch is soft. you gingerly trace your fingertips against his cheekbone, trailing against his flushed skin. “oscar,” you repeat, a little louder now. you coax his head upwards just enough to encourage his gaze to meet your own. 

his gaze carries a deep exhaustion that makes your own chest hurt. your hand falls from his cheek to instead rest against the column of his neck, settling just beneath his jaw. oscar takes a shaky breath, finally letting some of the tension escape. relief immediately floods through him at the little moment of relaxation. 

you carefully tread your fingers into the hair at the nape of oscar’s neck, gently scratching at his scalp. you tangle your hand into the overgrown strands, twisting them into little loops around your fingers. oscar shuffles ever so closer, letting his head fall against your shoulder. his hands come to rest against your hips, almost as if he’s using your body to keep himself steady. 

“let’s go sit down,” you murmur. you take a step back, coaxing oscar to follow your lead as you guide him back towards the couch. oscar follows you like a man blind. he blinks lazily, watching as you sit on the edge. “come here, osc.” 

for once, oscar moves without thinking. he half-stumbles onto the couch, stretching his body across the cushions. he can feel its metal framing through the cushions. they’ve been worn down through years of use as evidenced by the patches where the color has worn off. it’s not the most comfortable piece of furniture, but it’s enough for now. 

stray strands of oscar’s hair tickle against your skin when he lays his head in your lap. he curls his right hand against his chest and raises his left to rest against your thigh. a quiet sigh escapes him. you shiver at the feeling of his breath ghosting against your skin. 

“you did all you could today,” you say. oscar’s eyes flutter shut as you slowly begin to rake your fingers through his hair. your nails gingerly scratch against his scalp. the feeling sends shivers racing down his spine. 

“doesn’t feel like it,” oscar says quietly. his voice is gruff. it comes out as little more than a whisper, almost as if he’s ashamed. he opens his eyes once again, staring ahead at the blank wall. he lets his eyes go blurry. the off-white paint blurs until the world becomes little more than unfocused shapes. “i was so close.” 

“i know.” oscar lets his eyes flutter shut, allowing darkness to overtake his world. he turns just enough to hide his face against your thigh. his grip on your leg tightens ever so slightly. his fingertips trace miscellaneous shapes against your skin. “you gave it everything today. and i’m so proud of you. no matter what.” 

your lips brush against his temple, soft and sweet and more careful than he deserves. your movements never cease, still gently massaging the tension away from his body. the pounding in his head disappears into little more than an ache in his temples. slowly, his breath evens out. 

and for once, oscar lets himself forget. 

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 not super happy with this tbh (?) very self indulgent bc yesterday's race was a journey oh man, mclaren bring back the white race suits pls he looks so fine in white (my wife)

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or reblogging!! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my f1 masterlists here and here <3

[niki-phoria]

the life may leave my lungs / but my heart will stay with you

♫⋆｡♪₊˚ bring me the horizon - deathbeds

(gn reader / fluff / 1k words) attractive stuff he does :)

leaving his hand on your lower back to guide you

the paddock becomes a living creature on race weekends. the crowd swarms around you, little more than a series of flashing cameras and a blur of people calling your name from all sides. someone’s eyes are on you everywhere you look. you almost feel small before their prying gazes. your stomach churns at the thought of having to fight your way through the crowd, already stuck somewhere in your own head. 

beside you, oscar darts away from a reporter to close the distance between you. “stay close,” he murmurs. his hand slips to wrap around your waist like second nature. his hand settles against your hip, pulling you into his side until your shoulders brush with each step. oscar leans in so close that his breath ghosts against the shell of your ear. 

you steal a quick glance at him before your eyes dart back to the mob of cameras surrounding you on all sides. it’s almost surreal to watch how they follow your every move, no doubt flickering every single second. “there’s so many people here,” you say quietly. 

“don’t worry.” the corners of his lips curl up into a small smile — one just reserved for you. oscar leans so close that his lips just barely brush against your temple. “i’ve got you.”

using his hand to block the counter when you bend down

you don’t notice it. neither does oscar — lando does. 

the mclaren hospitality unit has lost much of its liveliness, settling into a somewhat peaceful post-race haze. debriefs and press duties and meetings had stretched well into the night. the sun has fully dipped below the horizon, leaving only a few stars sparkling in the dark skies above. 

you’re only semi-conscious of lando’s voice from across the table. he’s talking about an overtake on the back straight, complete with big hand gestures and a larger-than-life animation to his movements. oscar nods along beside you, only occasionally adding his own commentary when lando pauses for breath. 

at some point you lean down, fingertips tugging at the laces of your shoes. your body contorts as you fold yourself in half in an attempt to readjust their feeling around your feet. lando’s story abruptly stops. the sentence instead collapses into a soft chuckle. 

you sit up, only slightly confused by the sudden change. lando grins fondly but you don’t miss the teasing glint in his eyes. “mate,” he says, pointing across the table at oscar. “you don’t even realize you’re doing it, do you?” 

“doing what?” 

“you’re blocking the table’s edge with your hand,” lando explains. “you didn’t even break eye-contact when you moved.” 

oscar turns, glancing at his hand as if it doesn’t belong to him. his fingers are curled around the table, effectively blocking the corner’s sharp edges. his arm is outstretched towards your side.

you smile softly. oscar simply shrugs, though you don’t miss his bashful smile. “didn’t want you to hit your head,” he explains. “just in case.” 

you lean in, pressing a chaste kiss against his cheek. “thank you, osc.” you pretend not to notice the way the tips of his ears burn a deep shade of red or how he turns away from you, biting back a larger grin. 

“simp,” lando mutters. 

including you in conversations — even when they’re unrelated to you

sponsor events were always a drag. there were only so many pointless introductions you could exchange and glasses of overly expensive champagne you could drown your boredom in before you began to feel unsteady on your feet, just aching to go home. 

the ballroom is too cold and too humid for your liking. shivers raise along your bare skin as you offer yet another tight-lipped smile to a businessman you don’t recognize. you’ve been standing for too long, bouncing around between making idle small talk when oscar is pulled away and zoning out in the corner. 

the curtains are too long, dragging against the floor. the chandelier hasn’t been dusted in months. the waiters wander around you in circles, as if practicing a choreographed dance all of their own. you anxiously drum your fingers against your glass of champagne, willing the time to pass just a little bit faster. 

you almost startle when oscar returns to your side, sliding an arm around your waist like it’s second nature. an older man in a tailored suit follows him, effectively dragging your attention away from the furniture and misplaced decor. 

“this is my partner,” oscar introduces, gesturing to you briefly. you repeat the same pleasantries you have all night — shake his hand firmly, but not too tight, muster up the biggest smile you can, nod along as miscellaneous points, awkwardly chuckle when oscar does. 

you let their words flow in and out of your ears, little more than background noise. that is until oscar’s grip around your waist tightens ever so slightly, dragging you back into reality just quickly enough for you to register his words. “actually, my partner is interested in that as well,” oscar says with a soft smile. “right, babe?” 

making space for you in his life

“do you want anything from the store?” 

oscar glances up at you from his phone, eyebrows furrowing as he thinks the question over. he shakes his head after a moment. he shuts his phone off with one click before setting it down on the table in front of him. “no, i don’t think so. what are you planning to get?”

“i ran out of shampoo,” you shrug. “and i need some other stuff, too.” 

oscar blinks at you. “check under the cabinet, on the right side. i got another bottle for you a while back.” 

his words make you stop in your tracks entirely. you pause, turning to face him with wide eyes. he looks younger in the mornings — more human. the wear of the day hasn’t yet taken its toll. his movements are slightly more sluggish than usual and his voice rasps at the ends. a t-shirt hangs off his broad shoulders. an old pair of sweatpants drag along the floor behind each step. 

it’s domestic. almost sickeningly so. you can feel butterflies swarm throughout your stomach. your heart beats wildly in your chest. heat flushes your face. you can’t help the way your lips curl into an almost unconscious smile, overwhelmed by the casual affection underlying his actions.

“really?” 

oscar simply shrugs. he leans in to steal a kiss like it’s the easiest thing in the world. his lips are soft when they meet your own. you find yourself chasing the feeling, even unconsciously. “didn’t want you to run out.” 

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 if this is incoherent it's bc i only got four hours of sleep to watch spa live (congrats kimi!!) i'm obsessed with this picture he's so cute, inspo from this fic by @sof1rs :)

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or reblogging!! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my f1 masterlists here and here <3

[niki-phoria]

hiiii, how are you? I was wondering if you could write a Charles or Max x male reader who like pretends he doesn't really care and acts super stoic all the time and everyone believes it but he secretly gets overstimulated easily and there's one day after a race where he's like REALLY overstimulated so he just goes back to the Redbull/Ferrari garage or wherever private right when the race is over and Charles/Max follows to comfort him or wtv (oh also, reader is an F1 driver, I was thinking if you do it with Max, reader could be racing for Ferrari and if you do it with Charles, he races for Redbull)

thank you, have a good morning/afternoon/evening/night!! :)

that little kiss you stole, it held my heart and soul

♫⋆｡♪₊˚ bring me the horizon - deathbeds

(gn!f1 redbull driver!reader / fluff; comfort / 902 words) after you get overwhelmed on the podium, charles comes to comfort you

CHARLES LECLERC IS SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY. not literally; not yet. 

there’s always been pride in standing on the podium — the waves of fans cheering his name, a sea of red stretching as far as the eye can see. it’s confirmation, somehow, that this is where he belongs. that he made the right decision sacrificing all he did just for the chance to be here, among some of the best in the world.

and still, he can’t seem to rip his gaze away from you. 

you’re standing beside him, curling and uncurling your hands around the oversized champagne bottle. your hair is flatter than usual, disheveled from the balaclava you wore beneath your crash helmet. the sun slowly begins to dip below northamptonshire’s horizon. it coats the world in gold. the sky above mixes into hues of pink and purple. your eyes shine, features highlighted by the golden light filtering across the world. 

but charles isn’t looking at that. his gaze lingers on the tightness in your jaw. his eyes scan your movements. they’re too sharp. too slow. half a second behind as if your mind is somewhere else, drifting away from your responsibilities and into a quieter, safer place in your own head. 

the ceremony waits for no one. charles goes through the motions without complaint: he smiles for the photographs, generously douses you and lewis in champagne, chuckles along to his engineer’s jokes when they wander back to the ferrari garage. 

he doesn’t think about the feeling of your arm wrapped around his waist, curled around his side like you’re trying to keep him close. he doesn’t think about the half-smile you flash him when you playfully tip your bottle of champagne over his head. he doesn’t think about the butterflies swarming in his stomach when you meet his gaze for just a few moments.

IT’S WELL INTO THE NIGHT BY THE TIME CHARLES HAS THE TIME TO GO SEARCHING FOR YOU.

he had been caught between team debriefs and post-race interviews and interactions with the many fans who eagerly awaited a moment to ask for a photo or signature from a famed driver. 

the redbull garage has, thankfully, mostly emptied out. the cars are carefully disassembled and wrapped, ready to be shipped off for the next race. only a few stray mechanics and other staff linger. they’re preoccupied with gathering the last of the team’s equipment before the weekend officially ends. charles wanders behind them, quietly slipping into the hospitality unit with only one goal in mind. 

making his way through the building is easy enough — charles turns right, then left, then wanders down a hallway until he reaches a small, white door complete with a plaque of your name. a dim light is visible through the crack in the bottom of the door. hesitantly, charles raises a hand to knock. 

after a few moments, the door slowly cracks open. he takes a half-step backwards when you lean out from behind the wood. “charles?” 

“hi,” he says quietly. his mind races a million miles a minute, suddenly out of excuses for why he was knocking on your door so late into the evening. “i- uh, you seemed… stressed earlier. i wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

“oh.” you slowly open the door more, exposing more of the room behind you. a weighted blanket is draped across the small couch along the wall, folded over like you had kicked it off just long enough to answer the door. the light comes from a small lamp in the corner. it’s golden light crawls up the walls, barely bright enough to illuminate the room. 

“do you want to come in?” charles’s jaw nearly drops at the words. he blinks at you, surprised. you shift awkwardly. “i mean, only if you want to. thanks for coming by, anyways.” 

charles nods. he smiles softly. “yeah, of course.” 

the couch is softer than charles was expecting. the fabric is soft to the touch and the cushions give comfortably beneath his weight. you curl up beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder. charles shifts according to your movements. he balances comfortably on the line between pushing too far and pulling you away from your comfort zone. 

silence envelops the room. it’s quiet, but comfortable. charles tugs the blanket so it rests over both of you. you pull your knees to your chest before shuffling closer to him, closing the distance ever so slightly. butterflies swarm throughout his stomach at the thought. 

“thank you for coming,” you say, finally breaking the quiet. “the podium was louder than i was expecting. i just got a little overwhelmed.” 

“you did good today,” he murmurs quietly. charles’s touch is feather-light. he reaches up, gingerly brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. your eyes flutter shut in response. you lean into his touch ever so slightly. a flush spreads across charles’s cheeks, tinting the skin a soft shade of pink. for once, he’s grateful for the darkness. “next week will be better.” 

you raise your head just enough to glance up at charles. he meets your gaze when you do. you focus on the streaks of hazel that break through the light green, almost like marbles. “will you stay?”

charles brushes a hand through your hair. he leans down, gingerly pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “i’ll stay as long as you need.”

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 thank you for the req!! i hope you enjoy :) sorry it's not exactly after the race that's my bad, this gets really self indulgent near the end lol oops, a charles fic for my update this week and as a belated silverstone celebration (sorry kimi)

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or reblogging!! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my f1 masterlists here and here <3

[niki-phoria]

kimi antonelli making food and taking care of sick!driver reader?

forever know your face and ever take your place here by my side

♫⋆｡♪₊˚ sleeping with sirens - let love bleed red

(gn!reader / fluff / 903 words) kimi makes you soup when you're sick

“YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT.”

the world is little more than a blur when you force your eyes open, squinting up at your living room ceiling. your head is pounding from a headache that you can somehow feel throbbing against your skull. your stomach churns. the nausea only makes your dizziness worse. everything spins. 

you manage to focus just enough to make out KIMI ANTONELLI as he kneels down in front of you. stray curls frame his face, slightly flattened from the race you had missed. a faint indent stretches across his cheek from where his balaclava was previously pressing into his smooth skin. 

“thanks,” you say sarcastically. the word is choked when it leaves your throat, cracking despite your best efforts. kimi grimaces slightly. 

“sorry,” he murmurs, more sincere now. he reaches out slowly, gingerly resting the back of his hand against your forehead. you allow your eyes to flutter shut at the feeling once again, relishing in the coolness against your flushed face. 

“i think you have a fever,” kimi says quietly, almost to himself. slowly, you blink up at him, forcing your attention away from your aching head to instead focus on the man before you. kimi’s eyebrows draw together, furrowing slightly in concern. the corners of his mouth just barely tilt downwards. “how are you feeling?” 

“bad,” you whisper. you curl into yourself even further, tightening your grip on the several blankets draped across your aching body. kimi is quick to help, tucking the blanket around your back where you can’t reach. “head hurts. ‘m gonna throw up.” 

“because you’re taking meds on an empty stomach. have you eaten anything today?” 

you make a noncommittal sound, hiding your face into the crook of your elbow. kimi simply sighs, gingerly reaching up to brush a few stray strands of hair away from your face. you can’t help but chase after his touch. kimi lets himself linger, cupping your cheek in his hand. his thumb strokes against the edge of your cheekbone. 

kimi trails his fingers along your jawline, coaxing you to look up at him once again. outside, sunlight fights to break through the heavy cloud cover. the world is almost grey with the promise of rain. the noise of the city echoes through your otherwise silent apartment. 

“can you sit up?” 

the idea alone makes your entire body protest. your limbs are heavy, as if being weighed down by cinderblocks. the idea of food makes your stomach churn. everything is too bright, or too loud, or too much for you to handle. 

still, you force yourself to try. 

kimi’s hands are on you as soon as you move. he places one hand on your shoulder whilst the other goes to your side. you can feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. your back is sticky with sweat but shivers still race down your spine. 

you lean your head against the back of the couch, all but slumping your body against the cushions. kimi offers you a soft smile. “here,” he says. he pulls your coffee table closer, exposing a steaming bowl of soup from behind him. “my mom said i should make some penicillin soup for you.” 

for a moment, you blink at him, surprised. for the first time that day, the heat flooding your face isn’t from your fever. kimi’s smile is almost bashful. his cheeks are flushed a soft shade of pink the way they almost always seem to be when you’re around. butterflies swarm throughout your stomach at the thought. 

“you made this?” you ask. your hand curls around the metal spoon, stirring the soup before you carefully raise it to your lips. it’s warm — just warm enough to settle the worst of your chills. it’s salty and savory, tasting of chicken stock and filled with small noodles. 

beside you, kimi watches expectantly. “yeah.” he raises a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. a nervous habit he had never been able to break. “i just used whatever was in your fridge. i hope you don’t mind.” 

“you broke into my house to make me soup?” 

kimi laughs, then — a real, genuine laugh. his smile curls upwards and the corners of his eyes crinkle. the sound lifts a weight off your chest. you’d kiss him if you weren’t worried about being contagious. 

“i might’ve stolen some scallions from your neighbors porch, too. i can’t tell where the divide is between your apartments.” 

a laugh bubbles out of your chest before you can stop yourself. you have to hold onto the sides of the bowl to steady it as you shake your head, smiling brightly. kimi’s smile refuses to falter when he meets your gaze. the flush on his cheeks has deepened ever so slightly. 

“a robber and a thief,” you chuckle, taking another sip from the bowl. kimi hums as he settles into place beside you on the couch. he all but tucks himself into your side, closing the distance between you as much as possible. you’re quick to accommodate him. you raise an arm so he can lean his head against your shoulder. his curls tickle against your neck but you make no effort to move him off. “at least you make good soup.” 

“for you?” kimi turns just enough to glance up at you. he smiles fondly, now. his eyes almost sparkle in the sunlight. “always.” 

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and always appreciated <3 thank you so much for the req!! i hope you enjoy :) wasn't really sure how to work in the driver aspect unfortunately but i hope that's okay, not super happy with this tbh but i feel like garbage so i fear this is the best it's gonna get, he's so fine when he's slightly confused

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or reblogging!! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my f1 masterlists here and here <3

[niki-phoria]

Hi! I love your stuff smsm, could I perhaps request a male reader w any f1 driver (whoever u feel like this is good for) that maybe they get insecure because you guys are keeping your relationship a secret and people think you and your best friend are together instead/you guys have good chemistry and he starts second guessing himself. Cool if not anyway love you have a good one! :)

from the day you arrived / i've remained by your side

♫⋆｡♪₊˚ deftones - entombed

(gn reader / comfort / 1.1k words) when oscar begins to overthink your relationship with a friend, you're there to comfort him

OSCAR PIASTRI FELT HIS STOMACH TWIST AS HE CLICKED ONTO YET ANOTHER POST. it was from some gossip account — he could tell from the giant headline pasted across the photos. you were sitting across from a friend, both sharing bright smiles beneath the restaurant’s canopy. sunlight danced across your face. your shoulders were relaxed in a way they only did when your breathing came easy and laughter came easier. even through the camera’s blurry lens he could see the way your eyes crinkled at the corners and grin stretched across your cheeks. 

you looked happy. 

oscar’s hands glided across the screen before he could think. he opened the comments, scrolling almost mindlessly through them, though the sentiment was clear: they were a better match for you. 

regretfully, oscar pulled himself away from the post. he swiped out of the comments, and then again out of the app itself. he was only meant to be posting a race recap, after all. social media was a trap he was careful not to become stuck in. gossip blogs would only drag him down. he couldn’t risk losing this. losing you. so he ignored it. 

but that was easier said than done. 

oscar jumps when the door clicks from across the room. he fumbles, setting his phone down on the off-white duvet. he swings his legs over the end of the bed just in time to hear the hotel’s heavy door close behind you. you wince when it slams, sparing a glance at the nearby clock as you wander deeper into the room. 

you’re holding onto a brown paper bag with your fingers because your hands are full with two drinks. soda, oscar presumes. you flash him a grateful smile when he reaches out to take the food from your hands, allowing you to set everything else down on the desk. 

“so, i got you two burgers because i know how you get after races. and before you tell me your trainer will scold you, you’ve had a long day. i think you deserve a little extra cheese for your effort.” 

oscar can’t help but chuckle. it feels light as it leaves his chest. the knot is his stomach loosens, even if only a little. you playfully knock your shoulder into his own as you drag a chair up to sit beside him. staying in a single room together had its perks, but the limited space was not one of them. 

“thank you,” oscar says. you shake your head, opening the bag and pushing two paper-wrapped burgers towards him. they’re still warm to the touch. he waits for you to gather your own food before slowly beginning to peel the coating away. 

“my friend showed me this place.” 

right. 

you say it offhandedly, almost like it’s nothing. and to you, it is. oscar stumbles for just a second, eyebrows furrowing before he can stop it. his smile falters in the blink of an eye. still, he pulls himself together enough to flash you a crooked grin. “must be good, then.” 

you blink at him, almost surprised. oscar can feel the way your gaze lingers on him. your eyes scan his features as if to analyze his expression. you had always been good at that; you saw through the polite exterior and broke down his walls with ease. it was why he fell for you, oscar thinks. why he stayed, even when everything was hard and you were forced to hide away from the public’s prying eyes. 

“hey,” you say, voice softer now. you reach across the table to rest your hand against oscar’s. your touch is warm against his own. gingerly, you trace your fingertips against his palm. your hand dances across a lifetime of callouses and experience, massaging the tendons near his thumb where his hands get sore from repeated practice starts. 

oscar turns to look at you, then. your eyes sparkle in the sunlight. he takes a shaky breath when you intertwine your hands together, letting the air fill his lungs for what feels like the first time that day. “you know you can talk to me, right?” you murmur. “you can tell me anything.” 

“i know.” 

oscar lets his gaze drift, now falling to where your hands are intertwined. “i just… wish we could go out together sometimes, you know?” he swallows, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid. i wish i could hold you like this in public. 

you stay silent. the quiet stretches, long but not uncomfortable. oscar shakes his head. his hair falls into his eyes. you gingerly reach over, bushing the stray strands away from his face before he gets the chance. 

“i love you.” oscar turns to look at you once again. he offers your hand a gentle squeeze as he pushes his chair to be ever closer to yours. you return the gesture, limiting the distance between you as much as you can. “so much that it scares me sometimes. and sometimes i wonder if one day, you’ll wake up and decide you don’t want to hide anymore.” 

oscar takes a shaky breath. his words are careful, if not a little unsteady. 

“and i get scared that i’ll never be able to stop hiding.” 

“oscar.” you raise your free hand to cup his face, coaxing him to meet your gaze once again. your touch is gentle as you run your thumb against his skin. your fingertips trace against his freckles, taking extra care to linger on the largest ones. “i love you. i wake up every morning and i choose you, because you peel potatoes for me and you make soup when i’m sick and you make me happy.” 

oscar’s breath hitches. you lean in slowly, closing the distance with each passing moment. oscar’s eyes flutter shut just before your lips meet his, sealing your words with a sweet kiss. 

your mouths move in tandem, dancing to a rhythm you had learned through several years of knowing him and loving him through it all. he raises his own free hand to tangle into the fabric of your shirt, unwilling to let you pull away even if for only a second. 

he leans his forehead against your own when you pull away. you stay like that for a few more moments, breathing in the same rhythm, letting the sound of your hearts beating drown out the noise from the outside world. 

your food is cold by the time you finally get around to eating it. you steal a handful of the fries you had gotten for oscar despite having an order of your own. the outside world and it’s noise is still there. the pressure never ceases. there will always be another race, another post, another photo. 

but for now, in the golden light of the setting sun, oscar decides: this is enough. 

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 thank you for the request! i hope you enjoy :) accidentally added a bunch of allusions to homophobia bc i'm projecting kinda whoops, oscar looks so fine in that one plane pic does he know i'm insane

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or reblogging!! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my f1 masterlists here and here <3

[niki-phoria]

hi! i saw the charles x reader and reader helps him shave, do you think u could write a kimi x male reader where kimi helps reader shave?

fusing all our powers / here's to all our dreams

♫⋆｡♪₊˚ deftones - sextape

(male reader / fluff; suggestive near the end / 980 words) kimi helps you shave on a slow morning | charles fic here!

MORNINGS ARE A BATTLE AGAINST THE SUNLIGHT THAT YOUR CURTAINS NEVER SEEM TO WIN. golden light filters throughout your bedroom, casting streaks across the walls. you stir slightly before squeezing your eyes shut even tighter in a poor attempt to ignore the onset of daytime. 

beside you, a soft, amused huff escapes KIMI ANTONELLI. you can feel the mattress dip when he shuffles closer to you, working to re-entangle your legs beneath your bedsheets. you flinch when he raises a hand, gingerly brushing his fingertips against the natural curve of your jawline. his hands are cold against your skin. still, you lean into the feeling. 

“i know you’re awake,” kimi murmurs. his voice is quieter in the mornings. his accent curls around the syllables of each word, somehow thicker and deeper with the remnants of sleep. you can almost hear the way his lips curl into a small smile. 

“i’m trying not to be,” you whisper in return. you instinctively run your tongue over your bottom lip in a poor attempt to soothe the chapped skin. you’re sure kimi will scold you about dehydration later. for now, your limbs feel too heavy to bother reaching over to take a swig of water. 

kimi doesn’t say much. instead, he lets his hand fall to instead rest gingerly against your neck. he shuffles once again, this time letting his lips brush against your jaw. then your cheek. the bridge of your nose. your forehead. 

his touch is feather-light against your skin. kimi paints kisses across your features like you’re his personal canvas. you can’t help the chuckle that escapes you when he dips his head down to press a fleeting kiss against your collarbone. his curls tickle against your exposed skin, forcing you to flinch away from him even in your sleepy state. 

slowly, you blink your eyes open, finally shrugging off the last remains of sleep. kimi is half-laying on top of you, hovering so his face is just above yours. his lips are twisted into a fond smile. stray curls frame his features. he blinks at you slowly, much like a cat would. “morning,” he whispers. 

you let out a hum in return, twisting to stretch out your sore limbs. kimi chuckles as he resettles beside you, letting his hand fall against your cheek. he strokes his thumb against your skin, dancing across faded acne scars and the short hairs that have just begun to poke through. 

“your stubble is growing out,” he murmurs quietly. 

“is it?” he hums. kimi drags his fingers across your skin, almost outlining the areas where the hair has begun to grow. you drag your own hand against your cheek to get a rough estimate of how long it’s gotten in the week-long break between races. “i should shave.” 

kimi shifts, then, moving to sit up beside you. you watch through tired eyes as he finally pushes the blankets aside and slips out of bed. your gaze follows the natural flex of his back when he wanders around until he reaches your side.

“come on,” he says, taking your hand into his own. you follow his lead as he coaxes you up, all but dragging you away from the blankets in the process. “it’s time to get up. i’ll help you.” 

you’re half stifling a yawn when kimi turns on the bathroom light, flooding the small room almost immediately. you grimace, leaning your head against his shoulder as if to seek out more darkness. kimi simply laughs as he busies himself with gathering your razor and some shaving cream. 

you only move when kimi turns, using a hand to tilt your face upwards. you flinch when he gently begins to massage the cream against your skin. it sends shivers racing down your spine, not helped by your bare skin already being exposed. “‘s cold.” 

“i know. but you won’t get razor burn this way,” kimi responds. “now, don’t move.” 

each touch is gentle — almost cautious. kimi glides the razor against your skin with the same precision he drives with. he moves slowly, working in small chunks and being extra cautious around your lips and the curve of your jaw. 

you almost get lost in the feeling. you focus on the man before you, watching him through tired eyes. his eyebrows are furrowed and his lips have pulled into a small frown. it’s a familiar sight, though one you’re only used to seeing when you interrupt sessions on the simulator to bring him dinner or just after he gets out of the car when half of his thoughts are still on the track. it almost sends butterflies throughout your stomach. warmth fills your chest. 

“there,” kimi murmurs as he sets the razor down. he uses a towel to wipe away the last remnants of shaving cream, letting his touch linger on the now-smooth skin in its wake. “all finished.” 

you smile softly, leaning in to press your lips against kimi’s. he startles slightly before returning it. your mouths move in tandem. his hand rests against your chest as yours curl into his hair, cradling the back of his head as you take half a step forward to push his back against the door. 

you’re both flushed by the time you pull away, hearts racing and lips swollen. “thank you,” you murmur. you flash him a teasing grin as your free hand falls to rest against kimi’s hip, fingertips trailing against the hem of his sweatpants. you relish in the way his breath catches in his throat, heat spreading to the tips of his ears and pooling in his stomach. “how can i every repay you?” 

kimi cocks his head to the side as he pulls you even closer, limiting the distance between your bodies once again. “i can think of a few ways,” he mumbles. and before you know it, his lips are back on yours.  

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and always appreciated <3 thank you so much for the req!! i hope you enjoy :) kinda running out of icons to use lmao, i love this idea i think it's so cute, lowkey trans reader but maybe i'm projecting, KIMI ON POLE IN SILVERSTONE!!!!

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or reblogging!! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my f1 masterlists here and here <3

[niki-phoria]

铭心刻骨来永久记住 / 从此永无尽期

♫⋆｡♪₊˚ 邓丽君 (teresa teng) - 忘记他 (forget him)

(gn reader / fluff, comfort / 761 words) kimi comforts you about your acne

WATER RUNS DOWN YOUR FOREARMS STEADILY, LEAVING DROPLETS COVERING YOUR SMALL BATHROOM COUNTERTOP. your hands are slimy from the cleanser coating them. your fingertips run over the uneven surface of your skin as you massage the liquid against the worst areas coating your cheeks and chin. 

somewhere beside you, KIMI ANTONELLI watches you through the mirror. he’s in nothing but a loose t-shirt and an old pair of sweatpants. his curls are messier than usual — flattened by a mix of his cap pressing down on them all day and his fingers anxiously tugging at the strands during meetings. 

“what does this stuff do, again?” he asks, shuffling behind you to pick up the bottle from the counter. he flips it in his hold for a second before setting it down. his gaze drifts to meet yours through the mirror. 

you’re almost certain some cleanser has gotten into the corner of your eye from the way it burns slightly when you try to blink. you squint at kimi though your hands never stop moving. “what do you mean?” 

“the cleanser,” he repeats. “you do this everyday. is that why your skin is so soft?” 

you chuckle beneath your breath, shaking your head. “no, that’s because of lotion.” kimi leans his back against the wall behind you, watching as you turn the water back on to wash it off. it’s a less than graceful process but his gaze never strays from your figure for too long. 

he passes you a towel like it’s second nature when you turn the sink off. “the cleanser helps with my acne,” you explain as you pat it against your skin. “it’s supposed to help with redness, too. i’m not sure it does much, though. my skin is still pretty bad.” 

kimi furrows his brows. he takes a half-step closer and uses his fingertips to lift your chin ever so slightly. you blink at him, almost surprised. “what do you mean? your skin is fine.” 

“it’s not,” you give a half-hearted chuckle, shaking your head slightly. kimi’s frown grows. the corners of his lips quirk downwards, almost into a pout. he runs his fingertips against your jawline, catching a few remaining droplets of water against his skin. “but i’m working on it. there’s supposed to be a good dermatologist near here. i was gonna make an appointment-” 

kimi cuts you off with the soft call of your name. gingerly, he raises his hands to cup your face in his hold. his gaze is soft but steady when it meets your own. beneath the glow of your flickering bathroom light his eyes are the shade of caramel. 

“you’re perfect,” kimi says. he cradles you gently, almost the way you would a precious artifact or a fragile art piece. his touch is soft, like you’re someone deserving of protection. like he doesn’t want to push too far. “i don’t care if you have perfect skin or not. i love you. and no amount of acne or breakouts will ever change that.” 

your heart catches in your throat. your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you blink, trying to will away the unshed tears that fill your eyes. kimi notices immediately — of course he does. gingerly, he runs a thumb against your bottom lash line, wiping away the few stray tears that do threaten to roll down your cheeks. 

“sorry,” you murmur. “i shouldn’t be crying. it’s stupid.” 

“it’s not.” kimi’s voice is soft. slowly, he coaxes you closer, pulling you into his chest until you’re leaning against him. your arms wrap around his waist. your eyes flutter shut as you let the feeling of his body heat surround you. it’s comforting, in a way. even more so when he slips his hand beneath the hem of your shirt to gently trace against your back. “it’s just how you feel.” 

“you know it’ll never go away, right?” you mumble, the words half-muffled by his shirt. “i’ll have the scars forever.” 

“i know.” 

silence falls over your apartment. you allow yourself to drift in the quiet. kimi holds you steady even when a deep sigh escapes you. it rattles your lungs and exposes how unsteady you feel on your feet. his fingertips never cease in their actions. instead, he traces words you can’t quite make out against your side. the sound of kimi’s heartbeat drums against your ears, only rivaled by the steady hum of rain tapping against your windows. it’s not perfect, but it’s enough. 

“you’re perfect,” kimi whispers. “please don’t ever forget that.” 

and for once, you believe him. 

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and always appreciated <3 everyone get into cantopop now!!! pinky promise i'm working on reqs too ty all for sending me your ideas, this is very self indulgent, and FUCK everybody who comments on kimi's acne booooo tomato tomato tomato

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or reblogging!! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my f1 masterlists here and here <3

[lilliezzzzz]

hi hi! 🦈 anon here to bother you with my requests again /j

i saw your post about the event ending next week(?) and wanted to get one last request in before that

how about (im so sorry but i love him too much) osc with the touch prompt [them reading you like an open book, especially knowing when you're going through difficult times]? i think male!mechanic!reader would be really interesting bc reader could just throw himself into work and hang out with osc enough that it seems like nothing is wrong at first?

have a good day/evening/night :)

- 🦈 anon

Show Me How

pairing: oscar piastri x male!mechanic!reader author's note: hey sharkie guess who finished the fic! me!!! i did!! your requests never bother me. hope it's fine that i did f1 mechanic and if not take me out back /j!!!!(also biggest kudos to sharkie for proofreading, love ya dude <3 x)🔋 title from Show Me How, Men I Trust tags: colleagues/friends-to-???, vague life troubles, hurt/comfort except the hurt is vague so you're mostly just comforted, author is rusty pls be kind, feelings realisation, open ending warnings: very workaholic!reader, sleep loss, makes like 0 sense sorry not sorry, i know nothing of car factories nor the logistics but i could not be bothered (sorry mechanics </3) word count: 1.1k music 4 the soul | my masterlist

Becoming a car mechanic was always your dream.

From the first time you touched a toy car, intrigued and toying with the rubber wheels; to your teenage years, fully consumed by books and documentaries, eagerly drinking all the details and diagrams. Fast forward to you getting a degree in mechanical engineering, to now.

Formula one. The kind of cars that you wouldn't dare drive yourself, but those that you could work on endlessly. The possibilities, the quicker-than-lightning speed.

Over the years you've been in the sport, you've quickly learnt that the tension never leaves. Watching on with bated breath as the car you've built with your colleagues glides along the track. Sometimes it wins. Sometimes, it crashes and burns, and all you can do is watch on. It's unpredictable. That makes you love it all the more.

Regrettably, most of your time is not spent admiring your beauty. No, it's spent underneath the car floor, staring up into the pipes and machinery, trying to solve a puzzle you don't know the answer to. Or, perhaps, after an unlucky qualifying or after a long plane ride, reassemblying parts with a ticking clock in the back of your mind.

Going sleepless—or sleeping less than you should—is often the result of your hard work ethic. Maybe that's stupid; you can't bring yourself to care. It's only a few hours of lost sleep, how bad could it possibly be?

Well.

Maybe a little worse than you had initially thought. Your mind, which you'd liked for how sharp and quick it was, had started becoming… foggy. Drifting easily. Hands holding tools but never seeming to move, instead awkwardly hovering. And god, your caffeine intake has never been higher.

But hey. It's been working. The car has been working—and you couldn't complain at all about the points it's been scoring, either. Maybe it's a sacrifice you're willing to make.

"Hey," a voice calls out from somewhere behind you, accented and familiar, one you know all too well, "you've been standing there for a while. You doing okay?"

You turn around with a smile—albeit a sheepish one—and face Oscar. He's got two cups in his hands. A steaming coffee for himself, and in the other is your exact order. "God, Osc, you're a lifesaver! How do you know exactly what I like?"

When you reach for it, however, he lifts the coffee away from you. Despite your pertrurbed look, he smiles. "Let's go for a walk. You've been underneath that car for ages. Your back will start hurting, if you're not careful."

You're pretty sure he'd force you out no matter what answer you'd given, so begrudgingly, you agree. Oscar's always been like that with you; that type of caring where he'll get you to do whatever's best, even if you don't want to. But it's not all that uncomfortable. Shifting from coworkers to acquaintances to friends had brought about this dynamic naturally. Exchanging jokes and taking care of each other became second nature. However, you wonder when his smiles, laughs, and mere presence made your heart beat faster.

You don't know how he does it.

"..llooo? Hello, Earth to Mr. Mechanic?" Oscar huffs, a smug smile resting on his face, "we're here."

That you are. Hidden underneath some tree crowns, where shadows are neatly cast onto a bench, where Oscar is already sitting. You carefully lower yourself down next to him, trying not to stumble, desperately ignoring that weird, warm feeling in your chest.

Other than that, the sky is gorgeous. A sunny, baby-blue, dotted by small puffy clouds. Nature is weirdly serene when you haven't been able to fully appreciate it in a while.

"Uhm, sorry 'bout earlier," you laugh, "uhm, what were you saying?"

"No, it's just that you've been so busy. Under the car, or looking at metrics," he pauses, and gives you a sideways smile, "I feel like I haven't talked to you—like, properly talked to you—in ages."

You tense, nose scrunching up a bit unintentionally. "It hasn't been that long, has it? We talked like… a few days ago, no?"

Oscar winces—hands fumbling in his lap uncomfortably. "Mate, that was a week ago."

Oh. Right. Work has really been taking up such a big part of you now, hasn't it?

It was easy to throw yourself into. Like a crashing tide, swallowing you up whole— it distracted from any other troubles, and it was an easy excuse. Sorry, work has me busy; you used it enough that it'd become an auto-predict on your keyboard. Every single word.

Truth is, life had just gotten overwhelming. You really didn't think it was all that noticeable.

"We've still talked, though."

"It's been the smallest of small talks."

And as much as you'd like to argue against that, it was true, wasn't it? Greetings shot at each other in passing, or small conversations held while you were busying yourself with your tools.

A weird feeling, then, filled your chest. Sitting somewhere between your ribs, akin to— guilt, maybe? Or regret. Your sight shoots to your lap, where your hands are already sitting entangled with one another. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Listen," Oscar starts, and you slowly look up from your lap, "if there's anything going on, anything at all, you know you can tell me. Right?"

Maybe it's the way he says it; that genuine and careful and oh so kind tone of his, maybe that's what gets you talking. Maybe it's the fact that it's Oscar, and you really can't help yourself around him. Or maybe it's because he just noticed at all. But you start spilling your guts to him almost instantly.

You talk about the troubles that have plagued your mind, how life itself started becoming difficult to trudge through. The things in your routine that felt so easy before suddenly becoming insurmountable tasks, and how it felt easier ignoring it and just working instead.

Oscar sits there, patient, and listens. He listens so intently, and as you spew all the words that have lay dormant in your head, your heart stutters once more in your chest. In the faint, bounce-back light from the sun that has spilled through the leaves, Oscar looks beautiful.

He draws closer to you, too, and lay one hand atop yours. Reaffirms it with a careful squeeze.

"Thank you," he hums, "for telling me."

Your breath catches in your throat and your gaze falls onto your interlocked hands. Your fingers seem to tremble, faintly, although you're not sure whether that's because of him or your lack of sleep.

"Thanks for listening."

"Of course."

The two of you sit there for longer than you realise. In silence, just your quiet breathing and the distant hum of everyday life somehow regaining itself.

In that silence, you find yourself in love.

©lilliezzzzz: please don't copy or distribute my work on any platform

taglist: @toodeepintofandoms @milessunflowers @leosxrealm @ilocuras24

[niki-phoria]

hello may i req kimi x reader where the reader has sharp canines (like fangs) and kimi is playfully interested in them? tyy

the first time i've seen love and the last i'll ever need

♫⋆｡♪₊˚ pierce the veil - kissing in cars

(gn reader / fluff / 692 words) kimi loves your smile (and your fangs)

“I LOVE IT WHEN YOU DO THAT.”

KIMI ANTONELLI is already looking at you when you turn to meet his gaze. his lips are curled upwards into a soft, fond smile. he’s sitting across from you on a worn-out beach chair, half leaning his cheek into his hand. curls frame his face. they’re fizzier than usual from the humidity. 

you shift from your position on your own chair. the sun has just barely dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow across the world. bologna summers are always like this — hot and humid. the days stretch well into the evening as if the sun’s light doesn’t want to disappear yet. before you, water laps at the edge of the pool when the wind picks up speed. 

you cock your head to the side. a playful smile tugs at the corners of your own lips. “do what?” 

“smile.” 

you blink at him, surprised. the word falls from kimi’s lips like nothing. it’s almost careless, as if he’s admitting the most natural thing in the world. 

then, before you can stop it, a laugh bubbles out of your chest. kimi’s own grin only grows. he pushes his beach chair closer to you. the plastic scratches against the concrete in protest but neither of you mind. he settles when the curved plastic arms of the chairs touch, perfectly aligned and limiting the space between you to an almost negligible amount. 

“i’m serious!” kimi says. your laughter dies down into a soft chuckle before it stops completely. still, your lips curl into a small grin of your own. kimi reaches over, brushing his hand against your cheek. his skin is soft and sunkissed. he smells vaguely of sunscreen and cheap hotel lotion you had stolen from your room. still, you lean into his touch all the same.

your lips part almost on instinct when kimi lowers his thumb to brush against your bottom lip. his gaze leaves your own for a second, now focused on your mouth. your breath hitches when he gingerly coaxes you to open your mouth, gliding his fingers against your skin. 

“what are you doing?” you murmur. it feels awkward; to talk with kimi’s fingers dancing against your lips. instead of pulling away like you’re expecting, he leans in ever so closer. 

“you have fangs.”

that earns a quiet scoff of laughter. your eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion as kimi’s hand wanders down to now cup your jaw. his hand settles against the side of your neck, touch firm enough to be felt but gentle enough not to hurt. “what?”

“your teeth. they’re sharp, like mine.” kimi uses his free hand to pull back his own lip, momentarily exposing the pointed tips of his own canine molars. “you can see it when you smile.” 

you hum. “my dentist said i should shave them down. my teeth are uneven, i guess.”

this time it’s kimi who furrows his brows. for the first time that day he frowns ever so softly. he reaches out to take your hand into his own, tracing his fingertips against your knuckles. you intertwine your fingers together in response, content to feel the warmth of kimi’s skin resting against your own. 

“don’t. i like your smile the way it is.” 

it’s a small admission. something simple; it’s little more than an offhand remark. but it makes you flush all the same. butterflies swarm throughout your stomach. you shuffle closer to the edge of your chair until your body presses against the edge of the chair’s arm. kimi follows your lead, moving closer himself to allow you to lean your head against his shoulder, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. 

“i like your smile, too,” you mumble. 

kimi doesn’t say much, but he doesn’t need to. he leans in, brushing his lips against the crown of your head. his touch is feather-light, so swift you almost don’t realize it’s there. you smile against his bare skin, pressing a fleeting kiss against his shoulder in return. a content sigh escapes his lips as the sun dips fully beneath the horizon, set to the tune of your racing heartbeats. 

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and always appreciated <3 thank you for the req!! i think i struggled a little but i hope you enjoy :) as a fellow fangs-haver this was so fun to write, also takes some inspo from emily skaja's poem it's impossible to keep white moths

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or reblogging!! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my f1 masterlists here and here <3

[clara-a7]

F1 GRID || 𝙇𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚

彡CONTAINS ; kimi antonelli, charles leclerc, franco colapinto, isack hadjar, gabriel bortoleto

彡WARNINGS ; fluff

彡REQUESTED? ; No~ (requests are open!)

彡WORDS ; 1,1k

彡DISCLAIMER ; Everything written here is FICTITIOUS.

彡AUTHOR'S NOTE ; sorry if here are any mistakes, english isn't my first language!

⤷Kimi Antonelli

Kimi tries to help you with your Italian.

One night, you’re making pasta together when you try to say something you think sounds right. “Posso aiutarti a… spaghettiare?”

Kimi looks up, trying not to laugh. “That’s not a real word,” he says, shaking his head. “But it's a good start”

He’s actually patient when you ask questions or want help. He doesn’t get frustrated if you mess up. He just explains it quietly or repeats it until you get it. But if you mess up something super simple like "ciao" he won’t let you live it down. You’ll hear him say it back to you ten times a day, always with a small grin.

He really likes it when you try to say sweet things in Italian. When you tell him “sei bellissimo,” he doesn’t say much just smiles and looks at you a little longer than usual. That’s how you know it matters to him.

Sometimes he teaches you with music. He’ll play old Italian love songs while you’re in the kitchen, and he’ll explain the lyrics one line at a time calm. It’s how he shares things with you.

With Kimi, learning Italian isn’t perfect, and it’s not fast. But it’s real. It’s about small moments, shared laughs, and learning by just being together.

⤷Charles Leclerc

Charles tries to help you with your French.

He doesn’t correct you right away when you say something wrong. He lets you finish, then gently repeats it the right way. Never to make fun just to help you hear it.

One morning, you try to ask him if he wants coffee in French. “Tu vouloir… cafer-rr?” He laughs under his breath, walks over, and kisses your forehead. “Nice try. But no, it’s tu veux du café?”

He’s patient. He doesn’t rush you. If you forget a word, he’ll wait until you find it, or quietly give you a hint. And when you get something right, even something small, he gives you this soft, proud smile like he really means it.

He loves hearing you try. Especially when you use words like 'mon cœur' or 'tu me manques'. Even if your accent’s a little off, he never makes fun of it. He just watches you, quietly happy, like it means more than he says.

Sometimes he teaches you while you're doing regular things grocery shopping, walking through the city, cooking dinner. He’ll point to something and say the word in French, then wait for you to repeat it. No pressure. Just small moments, here and there.

With Charles, learning French feels natural. Not like homework more like being let into his world.

⤷Franco Colapinto

Franco helps you with your Spanish.

Sometimes when you’re out, he’ll stop and point to something: “That says ‘helado’ It means ice cream.” Then he nudges you and asks, “How do you say it?” When you say it a little wrong, he gasps. “No ice cream for you until you get it right.” (You get it right fast.)

He teaches you words at random times, when you’re brushing your teeth, walking home, or making dinner. Some words are useful. Some are just slang. “Che, boludo” he says, shaking his head. “It means like… dude. But don’t say it in front of my grandma.” (You do. Once. He still laughs about it.)

When you try full sentences, he never interrupts. He lets you finish, even if you make a lot of mistakes. Then he’ll fix one thing just one and say, “You’re getting better. Really.” And you believe him, because he only says it when it’s true.

In the mornings, he sends you voice notes sometimes with new words, sometimes just him saying, “Buenos días, mi amorrr” dragging the “r” to make you smile.

With Franco, learning Spanish feels fun. It’s full of little jokes, small wins, and real moments. You don’t even notice how much you’ve learned until one day he says something fast in Spanish, and you understand all of it.

⤷Isack Hadjar

Isack tries to help you with your French.

One afternoon, you call him 'frère' just for fun, and he smiles softly. “Frère?” he teases, his eyes lighting up. “Bro? Who taught you that?” You laugh, shrugging. “From you,” you say, making him smile.

It’s the small moments like this that make him happy knowing you’re paying attention, even when you don’t fully understand him.

He’s patient when you mess up, never rushing you or making you feel bad. He’ll softly repeat words, letting you take your time. But when it comes to bad words, he can’t help himself. He teaches you a few, like 'merde' or 'putain' and the two of you share quiet laughs when you get them wrong. “Just don’t say it around my mom,” he says, giving you a playful wink.

There’s something about the way he teaches that makes it feel less like a lesson and more like something you’re sharing together. He gently corrects you, his smile growing softer when you try, and that proud look in his eyes when you finally get it right.

With Isack, learning French is full of warmth, laughter, and easy moments of connection. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about being close, sharing something special, and enjoying each step of the journey together.

⤷Gabriel Bortoleto

Gabriel tries to help you with your Portuguese.

One night, during a late FaceTime, he’s clearly half-asleep but still insists on giving you a word of the day. “Hoje… the word is saudade.” You pause, trying to figure it out. “That’s a hard one.” He smiles, his voice soft. “It means ‘I miss you.’ A lot.” You repeat the word, and it feels like something deeper, something just for the two of you.

He enjoys teaching you words that carry weight, like 'cafuné' (the act of running fingers through someone’s hair). When you trip over the pronunciation, he gently corrects you, never rushing you. “Try again, meu bem.” And when you finally say it right, he grins, looking proud.

Sometimes, he sends you playlists filled with Brazilian songs and quizzes you on the lyrics. When you get one right, he rewards you with a sweet kiss on the forehead. “You're getting better,” he says with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

He calls you 'meu bem' so often, and before long, you start saying it back to him. Every time, it melts his heart just a little more. “You said it just right,” he whispers, his voice full of warmth and affection.

With Gabriel, learning Portuguese isn’t about perfection, it’s about sharing little moments, laughing together, and making memories that go beyond the words themselves.

✿彡did you enjoy this? comments, likes, and reblogs are immensely appreciatedミ✿

© clara-a7 - all rights reserved.

[niki-phoria]

i've never wanted anything so bad / i've never wanted anyone so bad

(gn reader / comfort / 1k words) when joão stays up all night overthinking, you're there to drag him back to bed

♫⋆｡♪₊˚ paramore - adore

JOÃO FÉLIX HADN’T MEANT TO LET IT GET THIS BAD. he rolls onto his back, letting out an annoyed sigh as he stares up at the ceiling. moonlight dances across the room almost mockingly. its silver glow is anything but welcome in the dead of night. even against the white paint covering the walls, all he can see is his failure. all he can think about are his mistakes. 

joão drags his hands against his face almost agonizingly. sweat has gathered at his temples from the stress. he wants to claw a way out of his own skin. he wants to turn back time and change his mistakes. he wants to forget. 

he pushes himself to sit up, tugging his knees to his chest in the process. joão steals a glance at you in the darkness. you’re half-sprawled across the mattress, entirely relaxed. your chest rises and falls in a steady pattern with each breath. you twitch occasionally, jumping or scrunching your nose in your dreams. you look peaceful. despite himself, joão smiles softly. 

slowly, he slips out of bed. the tile flooring is cold beneath his bare feet. you barely stir. joão tugs the blankets up ever so slightly until they cover your shoulders. 

he wanders down the hall, pacing almost aimlessly through the kitchen to grab some water before he finally settles onto your couch. joão folds over, resting his elbows against his knees. his fingertips press against his temples, willing his budding headache to disappear. willing his mind to stop racing for just a second. 

joão sits there for so long chills run down his spine. goosebumps arise against his bare biceps. his back aches and his feet go numb. he simply closes his eyes, squeezing them shut as tight as he can. 

“joão?” he startles at the sound of your quiet voice cutting through the silence. it breaks him from his trance, forcing him back to reality. 

light from your phone filters through the hallway. your feet drag along the floor slightly, stumbling the way you only do when you drag yourself out of bed too early for work in the mornings. he squints at your figure in the darkness. you’re wearing one of his t-shirts — he can tell by how it drapes across your frame. your phone is angled at the floor, using its low light to illuminate the pathway ahead. it’s a photo of the two of you: joão’s arm draped across your waist as you leaned against his chest, both of you basking in the miami sunshine during a rare day off. 

joão reaches out to grab your wrist, gingerly guiding you around the coffee table until you drop on the cushions beside him with a low huff. he chuckles softly to himself. you let your eyes close once again, eagerly leaning your head against his shoulder. he welcomes you eagerly, pulling you in until your head is pressed against his chest, just over his heartbeat.

“what are you doing out of bed?” he whispers. 

“woke up ‘n you were gone,” you mumble back. the words slur together at the ends, syllables mashing into each other. joão’s smile falters ever so slightly. he brushes a hand against your back in apology, curling around your side. you nuzzle yourself even closer to him in return. “i was worried. you have training early tomorrow.” 

joão smiles softly, if not a little sad. you had his schedule memorized almost better than your own. games were saved onto a shared calendar, practice regimes were followed almost religiously, you even had alarms set so you could watch the matches no matter the time. it was just like you to be so selfless. 

“sorry,” joão finally says. he had interrupted your sleep, after all. “i couldn’t sleep.”

you shift at that. you push your head up slightly, blinking at him in the darkness. joão isn’t sure if you can make him out or not but he holds your gaze all the same. “do you wanna talk about it?” 

joão lets a deep sigh escape him. his eyes flutter shut for a few seconds as he leans his head against the back of the couch. his shoulders are stiff, carrying the weight of his team — his country. his head was starting to hurt from how fast his thoughts were racing. 

finally, he shakes his head softly. “no,” he says. “not really.” 

“okay,” you nod. your eyes must have adjusted, joão thinks. you raise a hand to gingerly cup his face, brushing your thumb against his cheek. your fingertips trace against the edge of his cheekbone, trailing along the features you loved so dearly. joão lets his eyes flutter shut. he leans against your hand, letting the warmth settle over him. “we don’t have to talk. but will you come back to bed, at least?” 

it shouldn’t feel as daunting as it does, but the prospect of reliving his failures in his dreams makes joão tense slightly. you notice immediately. you reach over to take his hand into your own. he takes a deep breath when your fingers trace over his knuckles. your movements settle after a moment, giving him space to feel the warmth of your skin against his own. 

joão nods. he interlaces your fingers together, offering your hand a gentle squeeze. this time, he’s the one who uses your phone to guide you away from the couch and down the hallway to your bedroom. 

you settle into bed almost immediately with joão following quickly. he plugs your phone into its charger and sets it on your bedside table before crawling in beside you. you make quick work of intertwining your bodies together. your legs tangle beneath the sheets. joão’s hand slips beneath the hem of your stolen t-shirt to trace miscellaneous shapes against your bare skin. 

the weight is still there. pressure still claws at him from all sides. their expectations don’t disappear. 

but you shuffle closer to him across the mattress, closing the distance between your bodies. you wrap him into your hold like it’s second nature. like he belongs. you rake your fingers through his hair when joão hides his face into the crook of your neck. you lean in, pressing a feather-light kiss against his forehead as he settles, finally relaxed enough to drift off into a peaceful sleep. 

and for once, the noise in joão’s head quiets. 

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! disclaimer that i know next to nothing about football but i've been keeping up with the world cup (and joão) so here we are, inspired by an interview i saw where he talked about not being able to sleep well, lmk if you guys want to see more of him or if i should stick to f1

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, consider checking out more fics here <3

[niki-phoria]

i'll let you know just how much you mean to me / as snow falls on desert sky

♫⋆｡♪₊˚ my chemical romance - demolition lovers

(gn reader / fluff / 822 words) lewis kisses you in public after his first ferrari win

LEWIS HAMILTON IS ABSOLUTELY SMITTEN. it was no secret — interviews were peppered with mentions of his partner, fans caught photos of him buying flowers and watches, even his instagram feed featured small glimpses of you, each carefully cropped and thoroughly inspected to ensure your privacy remained as much as possible. 

but the world didn’t know who you were. they couldn’t. 

you had made the agreement over dinner several years ago. telling the public meant jeopardising lewis’s career and even his safety. it wasn’t a risk you were willing to take, no matter how hard it was. so you hid. 

your knuckles brushed against each other when you walked into the paddock, far enough to be mostly unquestioned. lewis gave curt answers when prodded about his personal life, shrugging off dating rumors that circulated online and giving snarky responses in lieu of sincerity. you attended races sparsely and in secret, hiding away in lewis’s drivers room and sneaking out of the back exit with the help of a few strategists. 

but all secrets must eventually be revealed. 

the roar of the crowd rings in your ears. your hands are shaking slightly, still overcome by the adrenaline of the race. tears sting at the corners of your eyes. they roll down your cheeks before you get the chance to blink them away. 

lewis’s hands are gentle when they brush against your skin. he cradles your face gingerly between his fingers. you can’t help but chuckle when his thumb swipes against your cheek, wiping away the tears just below your eyes. you reach up, wrapping your own hand around his wrist. his skin is warm against your own. the feeling is grounding amidst the chaos surrounding you. 

“don’t cry,” lewis says through a chuckle. his smile mirrors your own but you don’t miss the tears stinging the corners of his own eyes. 

you shake your head, letting out a quiet laugh of your own. you take a half step closer through the crowd, slowly closing the distance between your bodies. lewis meets you halfway. he pulls you close enough that you can wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, burying your head into the crook of his neck. his own hand comes to rest against the back of your head, careful not to tangle with your hair. 

“i’m so proud of you,” you murmur. your breath ghosts against his bare skin, making him shiver. he chuckles softly, pulling you even closer until your chests are pressed together. you catch a glimpse of the broadcast cameraman nearby, circling like a shark. 

lewis seems to notice as well. he coaxes you to pull away just enough to meet his gaze. his eyes shine the color of caramel in the sunlight. they glint at the corners with fresh tears. his race suit is sticky from champagne. still, you cling to him even tighter, unwilling to let go. 

lewis whispers your name like a prayer. like something sacred. his hand finds your face once again, now resting against the curve of your jaw. “i love you,” he begins. his voice wavers slightly but his gaze is steady when he looks into your eyes. “more than anything else in the world. i couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“lewis…” your voice shakes. you thread your fingers into the fabric of his race suit, gripping onto it as if it will steady your shaky knees. you just barely catch the way lewis’s gaze falls to your lips for a few seconds. he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip to silently ask for permission. you anxiously tighten your grip. “everyone’s watching.” 

“let them,” he says. lewis leans in even closer. your breath hitches when his nose brushes against your own. your eyes flutter shut almost on instinct. the noise of the crowd disappears, replaced by the sound of your own racing heart hammering violently against your chest. “let them see how much i love you.” 

your hands are shaking even more, now. you focus your attention on lewis’s hands holding you steady, still resting against your face. on the warmth of his skin against your flushed cheeks. on the way you both breathe in tandem. for now, the crowd is forgotten. 

electricity courses through you when lewis’s lips finally meet your own. he tastes like the mint gum you had shared before the race began. your mouths dance in a familiar rhythm — one previously hidden safely in hotel rooms and stolen in the back of ferrari hospitality. the rest of the world disappears, forgotten in the overwhelming emotion of the moment. 

you’re breathless when you finally pull away. lewis is smiling brightly when you meet his gaze. someone pats your shoulder from somewhere behind you. the mechanics swarm around you once again, excitedly shaking your shoulders and patting your back. lewis leans in to steal one more chaste kiss before he finally pulls away, wandering off to do his post-race interviews. 

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 in celebration of his ferrari win and bc i haven't written a lewis fic in forever, written with male reader in mind (happy pride) bc i love the idea of coming out publicly after a big win, not super happy with the beginning but i think the end is cute

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or reblogging!! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my f1 masterlists here and here <3

[niki-phoria]

the fight never ends / i can't face the dark without you

♫⋆｡♪₊˚ breaking benjamin - without you

(gn reader / comfort / 1.1k words) moments shared with leon after he has a nightmare

LEON KENNEDY PRESSES HIS HAND AGAINST THE WARMTH OF A CERAMIC MUG JUST TO FEEL IT BURN. steam billows into his face when he leans over the top. truthfully, tea had never been his thing. he drank cheap diner coffee when chris forced him out to chat and cleared any tiredness of the night in the morning by splashing cold water on his face. 

but cold water doesn’t feel right tonight. not when the bathroom of your apartment is connected to your bedroom where your sleeping body still lies, peacefully dreaming. the pipes are old, leon reasons. their creaking would wake you. or the rattle of the door hinges he still hadn’t fixed. or the ache of the floorboards protesting against his weight. 

and he really doesn’t want to feel any colder tonight. 

leon lets his eyes flutter shut, content to feel the warmth for a little while longer. the nerves in his hands must be shot, he thinks. or maybe it’s something in his head. this wasn’t a new behavior, but it was something he had done his best to ignore. he had wasted a few years stuffing it down with alcohol. more recently, it had been boxing. 

leon sighs. it’s almost soothing in a way. like the feeling of first dipping into a warm bath after a long day. 

he leans his weight against the countertop until his hips press into the rounded edges of the marble. there’s an old ache in his knee that only ever returns when it’s about to rain. you had teased him about it once — he was “better than the news.” leon laughed. your fingers massaged the muscle until he could support his weight without complaint. 

the mug cools as time passes. the tea no longer steams. leon raises the cup with shaky hands and takes a slow sip. it’s soothing when it hits his throat. the sweetness lingers in his mouth. he lets his eyes flutter shut for just a moment, relaxing his trembling hands once again. 

quiet never lasts long. not around leon, anyways. he doesn’t move when the floorboards creak nearby. your footsteps are gentle, but not silent. you knew how to sneak around without being heard. this was a choice; it’s a decision to make yourself known. something in his chest warms. 

you make your way to leon’s side, leaning against the countertop beside him. you don’t touch him. not yet. but you stay close enough that he can hear the rustle of your clothes and your own hands pressing against the countertop’s surface. 

“couldn’t sleep?” you ask, voice quiet. 

leon blinks. his eyes flutter open, staring down at the mug once again. he focuses on the still water inside. he focuses on maintaining the steady rhythm of his breathing. “no,” he finally murmurs. “just… thinking.”

you nod, though leon doesn’t see it. instead, you shuffle slightly closer, letting your knuckles brush against his own. he lets out a breath that comes out shakier than expected. still, his shoulders relax ever so slightly when he does. you don’t push further. you just wait. 

leon wraps his right hand around the mug once again, downing the rest of the tea before it goes cold. the ceramic clatters against the countertop when he sets it down. leon cringes, sending a mental apology to your neighbors about the noise. 

“it’s supposed to storm in the morning,” you say, almost offhandedly. “might be able to skip your run.” 

leon lets an amused huff escape him. it’s easy to read between the lines. skip the run, sleep in instead. he nods, shifting to look at you. you’re tired. he can see it even in the darkness: you blink at him sleepily, half-leaning against the countertop as if you’ll collapse without its support. the idea of you dragging yourself out of bed at an ungodly hour of night just to stand beside him in your kitchen makes leon’s cheeks warm. it almost flusters him. 

he moves, gingerly taking your hand into his own. his hands are calloused and hardened from years of weapons training. still, you hold him like he’s something fragile. like someone that deserves to be protected. he offers you a reassuring squeeze and a soft smile. “yeah, maybe i will.” 

you shuffle closer, leaning against leon’s chest, now. he accepts you with open arms. he shifts to rest his right hand against your waist, pulling you in until you’re tucked into his hold. you let out a soft sigh. there’s solace in his warmth. leon’s lips brush against your cheek when he leans in, pressing a chaste kiss against the skin. 

for a few moments, the world stops. leon holds you impossibly close. his hand slips beneath the hem of your t-shirt to trace miscellaneous shapes against your bare skin. your eyes flutter shut as you lean into his hold. you feel the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling. he lets out another deep sigh, willing the monsters in the darkness to stay hidden for just a little while longer. 

you stay there for so long that you nearly fall back asleep against leon’s chest. rain begins to patter against your windows, interrupting the otherwise peaceful night. leon is almost grateful for the drizzle. maybe he will skip his morning run. 

“still thinking?” you mumble, finally breaking the quiet. 

leon can’t help but smile softly. his hand raises from your waist to instead cup your cheek, gingerly tracing against your skin. you lean into his touch, still half-asleep. “not anymore,” he murmurs. “come on. let’s go back to bed.” 

you nod, eager to follow his lead. leon’s hand falls away from your own to instead rest against the small of your back as you retrace the steps back to your bedroom. the sheets are almost cool when he finally settles back onto his side of the bed. you’re quick to follow, tugging the blankets up to tuck them around him. leon chuckles but doesn’t protest. instead, he waits until you finally curl into his side, resting your head against his chest. 

you drape one hand over leon’s waist until it curls naturally against his side. your ear is pressed just over his heart. leon hopes you can’t feel how quickly it beats when you’re pressed against him. 

leon waits until your breath evens out and sleep overtakes you once again. your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. his hand snakes beneath your shirt once again, desperate to feel the warmth of your skin against his own. 

“thank you,” he murmurs into the darkness. it’s only response is the continued patter of rain as leon finally slips back into sleep. 

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! does writing for re9 leon technically make it old man yaoi, returning to my roots briefly because i've had this idea sitting in my google doc for far too long, and the re fandom is always so kind to me ily guys

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, consider checking out more fics here <3

[niki-phoria]

끝없이 연결돼 다시 / can't live without you

♫⋆｡♪₊˚ NCT U - WITHOUT YOU

(gn reader / fluff / 1k words) boyfriend kimi headcannons!!

━━ boyfriend!kimi who you meet in class. you hang your bag off the back of the chair as you settle into your seat, resting your arms against the cold wooden desk. a few scratches are embedded into the wood from the previous students who had once been in your place. conversation grows around you. laughter echoes throughout the once-quiet space. you nearly startle when a boy extends his hand in front of you, smiling softly but bright. “hi,” he says. “i’m kimi.”

━━ boyfriend!kimi who makes it a priority to befriend you. he sits beside you at empty lunch tables, drags you into gossipping with him and his friends, and makes a habit of greeting you whenever you walk past each other. it only takes a few days for you to run into him in the courtyard, caught in a semi-serious football game with his friends. kimi lights up when he spots you walking past, swiftly kicking the ball in your direction with a bright smile. “wanna join?”

━━ boyfriend!kimi who copies your math homework answers. you sit side-by-side on his living room couch surrounded by a sea of textbooks. equations fill the pages of your notebook seemingly without end. at some point, kimi lets out a quiet huff before tossing his pencil to the side. “my head hurts. i need a break from numbers.” you chuckle softly, pausing momentarily to glance at him. “aren’t you a race car driver? all you do is study numbers.” he squints, but you don’t miss the way the corners of his lips curl upwards anyways. “its not the same.”

━━ boyfriend!kimi who introduces you to his family — properly — a few days later. you anxiously fold and refold your hands in your lap as you sit at the table across from his mother and father. she offers you a small smile, just enough to ease your still-racing heartbeat. “you make him happy,” she says. “that’s all that matters.”

━━ boyfriend!kimi who invites you to join him at a race. the people swarming the paddock make the monza circuit feel even hotter in the summer heat. kimi slips his hand into your own, flashing you a sheepish smile as he leads the way through the mercedes garage. you settle into the corner, flanked by his sister. the headphones feel too big when you place them on your head but it doesn’t bother you much when kimi raises a hand. gingerly, his fingertips brush a stray strand of hair away from your eyes. “thank you for coming,” he says. “it means a lot.”

━━ boyfriend!kimi who runs to you when the race finishes, wrapping you into a hug to tight you almost forget how to breathe. he buries his face into the crook of your shoulder still sticky with sweat and champagne but you can’t find it within yourself to care. “that was amazing, kimi!” you smile brightly, pulling back just enough to hold his face in your hands. your fingers trace over the small indents his balaclava left on his cheeks. his flushed skin is warm beneath your fingertips. “i couldn’t have done it without you.”

━━ boyfriend!kimi who doesn’t confess to you. instead, he settles into a routine with you. everyday, regardless of timezones and his relentless schedule and the mundaneness of your own life, kimi calls you. the city is dark behind him but his smile illuminates the room. “hi amore,” he says with a little wave. “we just landed. it’s really beautiful here. i think you’d like it.” kimi pauses, just for a second. his gaze lingers on yours through your shared screens. the distance makes your heart ache and your head spin. “i miss you.”

━━ boyfriend!kimi who kisses you for the first time in an airport. “kimi!” you smile brightly, waving him over to where you’re standing. you can’t help but smile as you watch a million expressions flicker across his face. first shock, then, pure, unadulterated joy. kimi all but throws his bags to the ground as he runs towards you. a few people glare in your direction and a few more record the interaction on their phones, but nothing else matters when his lips finally meet your own.

━━ boyfriend!kimi who falls asleep on your chest that night. he wraps his arms around your waist and his legs tangle with yours beneath your bedsheets. his curls tickle against the exposed skin of your neck and your jaw. you can feel the slow, rhythmic feeling of his chest rising and falling with each breath he takes. slowly, you lean down, pressing your lips against the crown of his head. “goodnight, kimi.”

━━ boyfriend!kimi who refuses to leave your side. his hands never stray far from you. it’s almost as natural as breathing — kimi’s hand slips into your own when you go out for walks along the monaco pier at sunset, it ghosts against your lower back as he leads you through the garage, it even comes to rest against your knee when you sit beside him at dinner, sharing laughs and exchanging stories with his family.

━━ boyfriend!kimi who can’t lie to save his life. he sits beside george, each holding a microphone in hand as they run through the same press questions and answers they seem to say every race weekend. no, he’s not worried about the championship. yes, they’re focused on winning as many races as they can. that’s why it’s so surprising when an interviewer asks: “kimi, is there anyone special in your life? we’ve seen some… interesting news on social media.” george laughs too loudly beside him. kimi’s face flushes, giving his best pr-approved answer that dodges any details he doesn’t want to give. unfortunately for kimi, george doesn’t seem content on letting it go. “don’t worry,” george chuckles, reaching over to pat his shoulder. “everyone’s happy to see you so in love.” “mate!”

━━ boyfriend!kimi who finally says the words when he sees you that night. his hands gingerly cup your face. his thumb strokes against your cheekbone full of care. you lean into his hand, smiling softly at him. “i love you,” he says, quiet but sincere. you can feel your heartbeat racing in your chest. a flush spreads across kimi’s cheeks, tinting his tanned skin a soft shade of pink. “i know i don’t say it enough. but i hope you know that i do.” you reach up, gingerly taking his hand into your own. “i love you, too, kimi.” forever.

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 nobody talk to me about the 2026 barcelona grand prix, brocedes reunion but at what cost

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or reblogging!! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my f1 masterlists here and here <3

[niki-phoria]

kimi antonelli x teammate mercedes driver ? maybe in their hotel room or in front of the media? U DECIDE!

not a lot, just forever / intertwined, sewn together

(gn!mercedes driver! reader / fluff / 1.3k words) a quiet night in a shared hotel room changes your relationship with your teammate (or, friends to lovers?)

♫⋆｡♪₊˚ adrianne lenker - not a lot, just forever

KIMI ANTONELLI COLLAPSES ONTO THE NEAREST BED WITH A LOUD GROAN. you trail just behind him, stifling a quiet chuckle at the sight. he’s stretched his limbs out across the mattress, wrinkling the carefully ironed duvet cover. his face is buried into one of several pillows leaving only the curls at the back of his neck exposed. 

the hotel’s heavy door swings shut behind you, closing with a quiet click! the room is smaller than what you’re used to; a booking mistake, bono had described. instead of two single rooms, you and kimi had to share one room. and one room meant one bed. not the worst situation to be in, but far from ideal. 

you set your bag on a nearby chair as you wander around to the side of the bed. you reach out, placing a hand against the middle of kimi’s back. his skin feels warm, even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. he stills beneath your touch for just a second — so quickly you nearly miss it entirely. 

“are you planning on sharing tonight or should i sleep on the floor?” 

kimi lets out another groan at that, this time muffled by the pillows he’s still laying on. your hand falls away from his back when he shifts, slightly, rolling onto his side just enough to dramatically push himself towards the side of the bed. “come here,” kimi says, patting the now-open space beside him. “i’m not that mean.” 

“sure.” 

kimi glares at you but it lacks any heat. instead, he reaches over, grabbing the tv remote sitting on the bedside table. you take the opportunity to shuffle into the space beside him, finally stretching your legs out across the firm mattress. 

everything smells vaguely of bleach and dove soap in hotel rooms. the pillows are awkwardly lumpy, as if they’ve been folded and refolded from the hundreds of guests who have used them over the years. the duvet is scratchy against your skin and the mattress feels more like a wooden block than a bed beneath your back. still, it was better than the seat you had been restricted to for the past several hours. 

beside you, kimi flicks through the various channels that come with what you’re sure is a cheap cable subscription. you mostly tune out the noise, content to just lay down and relax for a few minutes. 

the dim lighting leaves most of the room crawling with shadows. kimi settles on some cooking show that’s too bright in the darkness. the hosts take turns offering feedback and criticism on the dishes, but you let it flow in and out of your head without much thought. he’s tired — you can tell by the stiffness in his shoulders and the dark circles that linger just beneath his eyes. no matter how bright he smiles and how much he laughs, you can always tell when travelling has run him particularly ragged. still, you’re grateful he stays happy through it all. 

you tuck your hand beneath the pillow, propping yourself fully onto your side. the hosts have moved onto a new challenge. you can tell by the dramatic music stings and the flashy, dramatic cuts that briefly illuminate the room. the weight of the day settles on your shoulders in the form of a small ache in your temples and a soreness at the back of your throat. it feels like a weight has been placed on your chest, holding you down no matter how hard you try to move it. 

you nearly startle when kimi turns to face you. deep brown eyes meet your own. they almost shine in the darkness. his eyebrows furrow slightly. “are you alright?” he asks, voice low. “you look… tired.” 

“‘m fine,” you shrug. “jet lag, maybe.” 

kimi makes a noncommittal hum like he doesn’t quite believe you. still, he’s gracious enough to drop the issue. at least for now. instead, he throws his legs off the side of the bed as he goes to stand up. “come on. we should get some sleep.” 

despite your body’s protests, you follow. you move almost in a daze, grabbing your toothbrush and some toothpaste from your bag before wandering to meet kimi in the bathroom. he makes some space beside you at the sink. the space is cramped despite your best efforts, leaving you standing shoulder-to-shoulder and fighting for access to the water. 

kimi’s shoulder knocks into yours at some point. you swat at him in return. “hey!” he rubs a hand against the toothpaste on his lips before flicking some water at you. you squirm, failing to duck away from the attack. 

“this is my team kit, you know! i need this!” 

“stop pushing me, then!” kimi retorts through giggles of his own. 

it’s domestic, in a way.

time has drifted into the early hours of the morning by the time you finally settle into bed. kimi is the first to slip beneath the sheets before playing patting the space beside him. “come here,” he says, his voice quiet. almost sincere. 

you obey without complaint, tucking yourself beneath the sheets with an almost surgical precision. you’re careful to curl your knees so you don’t touch kimi’s body with your own. he drapes the blankets over your shoulder once you settle, tucking you in almost like you would swaddle a baby. 

for a moment, the room finally falls silent. the air conditioning unit hums from somewhere in the corner. kimi had turned the temperature down at some point, cranking it to an almost sub-zero degree. you’ll wake up sweating otherwise, he had claimed. trust me. a pair of footsteps wander through the hallway. you curl yourself even further into the blankets, blinking at kimi in the darkness. 

“i’m glad you’re here, you know,” he finally murmurs. the weight of his words hangs heavy in the air. you study him in the darkness, searching for a hint of amusement or playfulness you know isn’t there. 

when you remain silent, kimi continues. his hand searches for yours across the sheets, hesitantly wrapping around your own. he runs his thumb against your knuckles, feeling the natural ebbs and flows of your bones. something about it makes your heart catch in your throat. maybe it’s the tenderness of the gesture. or maybe it’s the way his gaze has refused to leave your own. “i’m not sure i could do this without you.” 

for a moment, neither of you moves. you don’t speak. it feels like nothing in the world can convey how you feel. 

hesitantly, you shuffle across the sheets. your grip tightens on kimi’s hand when you offer a gentle squeeze. he meets you halfway until your bodies are so close you’re almost sure he can hear your racing heartbeat from within your chest. “you’ll always have me, kimi. i’ll stay as long as you want.” 

his lips part for a moment. kimi leans in, closing the distance even more. his nose brushes yours just enough to let you know he’s there. like he’s giving you the space to pull away if you want. he doesn’t move. you don’t either. 

“even forever?” he whispers. the words are swallowed by the night. you place a hand on his chest just over his heartbeat. his bare skin is warm against your own. goosebumps arise along his spine. kimi’s breath hitches at the feeling for a moment. 

“even forever,” you repeat. 

you don’t pull away when his free hand raises to rest against your cheek. his thumb traces along the skin just beneath your cheekbone. you allow your eyes to flutter shut, leaning into his touch. and when his lips finally meet your own, you don’t pull away then, either. 

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 thank you for the req! even tho this is from months ago IM SORRY my take on the only one bed trope kinda, wrote this on saturday kimi and oscar will be 1-2 in barcelona trust guys

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