(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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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(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
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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(gn reader / comfort; fluff / 767 words) playing the guitar for oscar
YOU’RE HALFWAY THROUGH THE BRIDGE OF A NEW SONG WHEN YOUR APARTMENT DOOR SWINGS OPEN. you’re sitting on your living room couch, playing and replaying the same few chords over and over again until they feel perfect. your fingers press into the strings so tightly you can feel the blisters forming beneath the callouses that have formed on your hands. time had passed without notice or care, now leaving you in the early afternoon.
somewhere behind you, a bag hits the ground, followed quickly by two shoes being kicked to the side. keys clatter against your countertop. a hat lands unceremoniously against your dining room table. footsteps scuff against your floor as OSCAR PIASTRI finds his way to your side.
“you’re home early,” you murmur. your voice is low, nearly drowned out by the hum of the air conditioning unit in your apartment and the everlasting drone your fridge lets out. outside, the wind rustles the tree leaves. a stray branch taps against your window. you make a mental note to trim it down sometime. but for now, the rapping continues softly.
oscar wordlessly settles beside you. he tucks his body around your own as he settles onto the couch. his head falls against your shoulder as if it belongs. the feeling of his stray strands of hair tickling against your neck only makes your lips quirk into a small grin. oscar nuzzles into your side until you can’t tell where he ends and you begin.
you adjust slightly, shifting the guitar so its neck is comfortably out of range from oscar’s body. you feel his breath ghost against your skin when a deep sigh escapes him. his eyes flutter shut before he turns to hide his face into the crook of your neck. “is everything alright?”
“fine,” oscar hums. his voice is little more than a whisper, muffled by the fabric of your shirt. then, a little louder, “tired.”
the admission makes your heart ache. the weeks and months spent greeting oscar through facetime calls and stolen texts were hard, but it was even harder to know that his dreams took so much from him every time he left. you let his admission hang heavy in the air, not quite sure what to say. or if you should say anything at all. your apartment falls silent without the gentle strum of music. only the quiet sound of oscar’s steady breathing fills the room.
you’re about to set the guitar down entirely when oscar subtly shifts beside you. he blinks up at you slowly, as if he’s struggling to keep himself awake. “keep playing,” he murmurs. “please.”
you smile softly. “okay,” you nod. oscar offers a small grin of his own before settling back into his position leaning against your side. his eyes flutter shut as your fingers begin to dance along the frets once again.
time passes like molasses. outside, the sun dips below the horizon, stealing the light from the world in the process. cars come and go; their engines roar through monaco’s smaller streets. waves ebb and flow onto the shore somewhere near the harbor. crickets begin to sing loudly outside of your windows. their chirps cut through the quiet, unrivalled in volume.
still, you continue to play. your hands dance across the frets, strumming almost mindlessly. you let your mind drift with the noise. you play old pieces taught to you by gentle hands years ago. fragments of your favorite songs. the chorus of an edm song oscar had played for you once. the bass was so loud it had rattled the vents in your car. you had sworn it was horrible, then, but you both wore matching smiles for the entire drive.
shortly after the sun sets, oscar falls asleep by your side. his breaths are steady and even but deep. he twitches, once, and it takes all of your willpower not to break out into laughter. instead, you twist slowly — carefully — and set your guitar on the ground. oscar remains asleep when you gently coax his head to lean against your chest instead, maneuvering both of your bodies until you’re tangled into each other and laying across your couch.
you lean in, pressing a chaste kiss against the crown of oscar’s forehead. his arm naturally drapes across your waist, the other curled tightly between your chests. he lets out a soft sigh in his sleep, almost content.
the man laying in your arms isn’t mclaren golden boy oscar piastri he isn’t oscar piastri: former championship leader. he isn’t oscar piastri: formula one driver.
and for once, he doesn’t have to be.
notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 ik it's been like a week SORRYYYY, i started my internship this week guys i'm so official, he has never not once looked bad in this monster energy hat, in other news i am a football fan?? (watching the world cup)
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
you said that you'd take me home / promise me / you'll never let me go
♫⋆。♪₊˚ sleeping with sirens - forever/always
(gn reader / fluff / 794 words) charles asks you to help him shave
THE DIM BATHROOM LIGHTS FLICKER OVERHEAD, CASTING A GOLDEN GLOW ACROSS YOUR BATHROOM. you lean over the marble countertops to squint at yourself in the mirror. a thin metal chain hangs from your neck — the same one CHARLES LECLERC had gifted for your anniversary just a few weeks prior. a matching one rested around his own neck, diligently tucked into the collar of his shirt.
beside you, charles blinks sleepily at his own reflection. his stubble had grown out during the break. it was longer than usual, just enough to tickle against your skin when he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. his arms snake around your waist from behind, pulling you backwards until your back presses against his bare chest.
“good morning, mon ange,” he murmurs. his breath ghosts against your ear just enough to make you shiver. you squirm in his hold, barely biting back the giggles that threaten to escape your lips.
you twist in his hold just enough to turn to face him. his hands press against your hips, almost threatening to slip beneath the hem of your shirt. it’s one of his t-shirts you had stolen years ago and he had never bothered to ask you to return. his fingertips trail against your bare skin. goosebumps arise in his wake. “morning, cha.”
charles hums. “did you sleep well?”
“always, with you.” you raise a hand to rest against his face, gently stroking your thumb against his cheek. his stubble feels scratchy against your hand. charles’s hand comes up to wrap gingerly around your own. he gingerly wraps it around your wrist, stroking against your pulse point. “your stubble is getting long.”
“i know,” charles lets out a small, sheepish laugh. he shakes his head slightly as he raises a hand to brush against it himself. your hands fall to rest against his shoulders before eventually falling to wrap around his neck. your eyes flutter shut when you lean in to press a small kiss against his cheek, just above where the hair naturally ends.
charles’s grin has grown when you pull away. there’s a mischievous glint in his gaze and a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. you squint at him suspiciously. “what?”
his smirk only grows. in lieu of a verbal response, charles takes a step closer. his hands fall from your hips to the back of your thighs. a gasp escapes you before you can stop it when his fingertips press against your legs before he’s lifting you into the air and onto the cool tile countertops.
“charles!”
“mon amour,” he teases in response. your shared laughter fills the space when he takes a step closer, finding the space between your legs. his hands trail along your thighs, tracing along your skin.
he reaches around you, opening the medicine cabinet beside you to pull out a shaving razor and some cream. you tentatively balance on the countertop, watching as he fills the sink beside you with a small amount of water. “what are you doing?”
“asking for a favor.” charles hands you the razor, cocking his head to the side with a lopsided grin. “help me out, please?”
you stifle a chuckle but take it nonetheless, setting it on the counter beside you. you squirt a small amount of cream into your hand before gently beginning to smooth it over the lower half of charles’s face. he flinches slightly at the cool feeling before relaxing.
“don’t move.” your fingertips press into the underside of charles’s jaw to gently coax him to look upwards. he follows your lead, leaning to turn to the side just enough to expose the areas where coarse hair still pokes through the shaving cream.
carefully, you run your razor along charles’s skin. his eyes flutter shut as you carefully glide the blades along the natural curve of his cheeks, then along his jaw, and finally onto his neck. “is this okay?” you murmur.
his eyes blink open, then, peridot green and decorated with flakes of caramel brown. he pulls away just enough to wipe a spare towel against the remaining cream. “it’s perfect,” charles responds. his fingertips trail against the now-smooth patches of skin as he looks himself over in the mirror.
charles leans in, capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss. he tastes like the mint toothpaste he had just rinsed out of his mouth and smells like the shaving cream still sitting on the counter beside you. his hands roam to rest against your hips, pushing the hem of your shirt up even more.
“thank you,” he whispers against your lips. “i love you.”
“i love you, too.” you smile softly before wrapping your arms around charles’s neck and pulling him back in.
notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 this idea came to me in a dream and then i woke up to clean shaven charles (yay!) resigning at ferrari (??) i am a prophet, hoping for success in monaco
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
(gn reader / fluff / 2k words) taking kimi on a motorcycle ride leads to an unexpected confession
♫⋆。♪₊˚ pierce the veil - song for isabelle
KIMI ANTONELLI SCRUNCHES HIS FACE AGAINST THE PADDING OF HIS HELMET AS HE SLOWLY ADJUSTS TO THE UNCOMFORTABLE FEELING. the fit is much tighter than his usual crash helmets. it presses into his cheeks, squishing the skin upwards and slightly obscuring his vision in the process.
kimi whips his head around when you stifle a soft chuckle beside him. the thick plastic coating blocks most of his peripheral vision, leaving him forced to stare at you head on. he scowls at you through the opened visor gap though you can’t make out much beyond his eyes. “what?” he asks, voice muffled.
you shake your head, still smiling to yourself as you take a half step closer. “nothing.” you raise a hand to playfully drag your fingers against the helmet’s thick plastic coating. your fingertips trace against the edge where kimi’s jawline would be, a small habit you had maintained through the years of knowing and loving him. “it looks good on you.”
for once, kimi is glad most of his face is obscured. still, he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks and tinting the tips of his ears. he’s sure you notice, too, but you have enough grace to save your comments for now.
he glances away from your gaze to instead linger on your motorcycle. it’s admittedly very sleek in design — a black body decorated with a few streaks of red. he had teased you about getting the next one in teal. “to match mercedes colors,” kimi said. “i have a brand to maintain.”
“sure,” you had laughed. “maybe i’ll put a big 12 sticker on the front, too. really make sure i get the point across.”
“everything looks good on me,” kimi finally says. he shrugs like he means it as he lifts his head to meet your gaze once again. “took you long enough to notice.”
you roll your eyes but it lacks any heat. kimi smiles softly in response. it’s hard not to when he’s looking at you. it’s his one major fault, kimi thinks. he’s always looking at you: in crowded rooms, in the quiet lull in conversation at family dinners, even on the paddock when you wander off to gossip with the social media admins or other drivers.
“come here, then,” you say, gesturing to your motorcycle. your voice breaks kimi out of his own head as he stumbles to follow after you. “remember: lean with me. don’t try to fight the turns. try not to move too much behind me, it gets distracting sometimes. hold on as tighter in higher speeds. it helps with balance. and if it gets too much for you, hit my thigh three times and i’ll find somewhere safe to pull over.”
“don’t cause a crash. got it.”
you stifle another laugh. “yeah, pretty much.”
kimi pauses, watching as you finally reach to put your own helmet on. the movement is much smoother than his own had been. it feels practiced — like something you had done a million times. and you had. riding came as easy to you as riding did him. it was something that drew the two of you so close together in the first place.
with one final glance at kimi, you reach up to push the tinted visor over his eyes. he flinches in surprise for a second before smiling softly to himself. the world looks more orange through the filter. still, he can just barely make out the way your eyes crinkle at the corners with a small smile of your own.
you slide your right leg over the side, officially mounting the bike. kimi follows after you. he hesitantly rests his gloved hands against your waist. he grips tightly onto the thick padding of your jacket, leaning his helmet over your shoulder for just long enough to slide his shoes over the footrests at the back of the motorcycle.
in one smooth movement, you reach down to switch the motorcycle on. the engine roars to life beneath you. kimi’s grip unintentionally tightens around your sides. he jumps ever so slightly, still not quite used to the rumble of the vehicle against his inner thighs. you glance backwards just enough to meet his gaze, flashing him a thumbs up. ready?
kimi nods before giving you a thumbs up in return as well. ready.
you start slow. the motorcycle moves slowly as you maneuver through the city streets. landscapes blur in your peripheral vision. slowly, the buildings disappear, replaced by the countryside as you retrace a familiar route onto an empty highway.
kimi gasps as he wraps his arms tighter around your waist, leaning in even closer until his chest is pressed against your back. the wind rushes past you both violently. he’s almost sure he can feel it slipping beneath the helmet and whispering against his cheeks.
he laughs against your ear, clinging as tightly to you as your gear will allow. you steal a glance at him from over your shoulder. kimi’s hands have settled at your hips, now, holding you steady as much as he’s holding onto your motorcycle. below him, the bike hums when you switch the gear once again.
the speed is exhilarating. it’s like the air has been stolen from kimi’s lungs. he leans his helmet against your shoulder as he turns, watching the countryside pass by. the trees and grass look so much more real without the barrier of a car door in the way. they’re so close it feels like he can reach over and touch them.
you ride for hours; you ride until the sun begins to dip below the horizon and the engine begins to whine at you from a lack of gas. kimi’s hands never slip from their position wrapped tightly around you. it feels right, he thinks: his chest pressed against your back, head resting on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist.
the rest of the world fades away. the heat of the sun on kimi’s back keeps him grounded. the rumble of the machine against his thighs and the curve of your body against his own blocks out the pressure that had dragged him down far too much. he had to admit you were right. this was a nice way to escape for a little while.
kimi follows your body line when you finally slip onto an exit, shifting into a lower gear as you slow the bike. golden light filters across the evening. he doesn’t let go of you. not until you pull into some run-down gas station on the side of the highway, leaning to the side to switch the motorcycle off and lean it on its kickstand.
he leans back slightly, giving you enough space to slide off of the back before he follows. his legs feel a little sore the way they do after a rough workout or that time he did a practice session without stretching first — a good ache, but an ache nonetheless. you slip your hand beneath your helmet and tug it off, exposing your face for the first time in hours.
“good?”
kimi laughs. he nods, raising his hands to take his own helmet off. “really good!” he’s almost bouncing with energy. “that was incredible!”
your smile mirrors his own. you fall into an almost mundane routine. kimi circles around your motorcycle like a shark as you remove the gas pump from the machine and insert it into the tank.
“i told you it would be fun.”
kimi pauses, then. there’s an almost fond glint in his eyes as he pauses as if to take in a majestic view. your hair is slightly disheveled from where your helmet had ruffled it in the process of taking it on and removing it. the sun dips further below the horizon, slowly stealing the warmth from the sky as it does so. the gas station is admittedly run down. graffiti lines the outside walls and the only patrons seem to be the employees themselves. but it looks perfect all the same.
“hey,” you say, taking a tentative step closer. you’ve replaced the gas pump, shoving it back into its place at the machine and rescrewing the gas cap in your motorcycle. your eyebrows furrow slightly as your gaze scans over kimi. his face flushes. heat rushes to the apples of his cheeks and tints the tips of his ears so deeply he can feel them burning beneath his skin. “you alright?”
“yeah,” kimi breathes. for once, he doesn’t force himself to look away. he doesn’t step back or hide his face or make a snarky joke that wasn’t that funny until you laugh at it with your entire chest. instead he lets the moment linger. “more than alright.”
you offer a small smile in response. for a second your gaze falls to your feet and kimi thinks you might take a step away from him again.
but you don’t.
instead, you close the distance even more. “you know…” you begin, voice quiet. your eyes flicker back to meet kimi’s once again, now carrying a vulnerability that makes his breath catch in his throat. “i had fun today. like… i really enjoyed it. being with you.”
kimi swallows. “me too.”
for a few seconds, nothing else exists. it’s just you and kimi, standing in the middle of an empty gas station sharing shy smiles and nervous glances. you anxiously roll the fabric of your jacket between your fingers. it’s a nervous habit that had ruined the ends of plenty of your clothes and a few of kimi’s as well. he reaches out before he can stop himself, taking your hand into his own.
“i mean it,” he says quietly. kimi takes a half step closer until the tips of your shoes nearly touch. close enough to cross the line but far enough to let you pull away. your eyes are slightly wide when they meet his own once again. “there’s no one else i would rather be with.”
slowly, almost hesitantly, you lean in to close the distance between you even more. kimi’s lips part slightly almost on instinct. your gaze flickers to his lips for just a second. the action sends butterflies swarming throughout his stomach. “can i…”
kimi doesn’t respond verbally. instead he leans in until his lips gingerly meet your own. your eyes flutter shut on instinct. you reach up, tangling your hand into the fabric of his jacket to pull him even closer. his hands fall to your waist in response, stumbling even closer to you. you laugh into his mouth, earning a sheepish smile from kimi in return. “sorry,” he mumbles.
you pull away just enough to shake your head. “don’t be.” you reach up, then, carefully brushing a few stray curls out of his eyes. “you’re sweet, kimi.”
he smiles even brighter, letting out a soft groan as he hides his head into the crook of your neck. “you can’t just say stuff like that!” he whines.
“can’t i?” you laugh, reaching around him to rub his back. kimi stays like that for a few seconds. his breath ghosts against the crook of your neck and his hands slip to rest comfortably against your hips. eventually, you coax him to look at you once again. “i like you, kimi. will you be mine?”
kimi’s eyes widen. his beath catches in his throat as he stares at you for a few agonizing seconds. time seems to freeze around you. all that exists are you and him. all that matters is the way he’s looking at you.
and then, just as quickly, he’s all but jumping into your arms. you startle for a second, doing your best to catch his body and keep your balance at the same time. “yes! yes! a thousand times, yes!”
he leans in, catching your lips in yet another chaste kiss. this time it’s your turn to be flustered at the contact. you bite back a bright smile but a few giggles still manage to escape you when he begins to pepper kisses across your cheeks and the side of your neck.
“i like you, too,” he says quietly. “and i would love to be yours. officially.”
“good.” you smile brightly, pulling him back into a final chaste kiss. “now, put your helmet back on. we still have the ride home.”
notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 inspired by my love of motogp and riding motorcycles and kimi attending the mugello race!!! also loosely inspired by this fic by @lxndonorris :)
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
might i request oscar × male reader where reader is obsessed with oscar's waist and thighs (in a fluffy or suggestive way, completely up to you on the vibe ^^)
if that is not possible, then perhaps a picnic fluff where reader and oscar nap in the sun?
thanks in advance! have a good day/evening/night :]
and you could be my someone, you could be my scene / you know that i will save you from all of the unclean
♫⋆。♪₊˚ puddle of mudd - blurry
(gn reader / comfort; suggestive / 1.2k words) you drag oscar back to bed when he spends all night working on data
IT'S LATE. the sun had dipped below the horizon hours ago, submerging your apartment into darkness ever so slowly. shadows stretched across the floors until everything blended into nothing, all lost in OSCAR PIASTRI’S peripheral vision. only the blue light from his computer illuminates the room. his tired eyes ache even more when he scrolls through the different documents.
oscar sighs loudly. his computer sits on the small coffee table sitting on your living room rug. the most recent data stares mockingly back at him. the numbers all blurred together after a while. sector times and weather reports and strategies mixed until he wasn’t sure which track he was supposed to be reviewing or why he was looking at it at all.
he folds over, curling into himself so his elbows rest on the top of his thighs. oscar’s hands thread into his hair. he grips the strands between his fingertips. his head throbs with a coming headache. his entire body is stiff. his joints are sore from the tension he didn’t even realize he was carrying.
eventually, oscar shifts. his hands run down his face until they settle at the back of his neck, keeping his head low and his posture curved. it’s not particularly comfortable, but exhaustion has settled so deep into his bones moving feels like a herculean task. his breaths are shallow, like there’s not enough air reaching his lungs. oscar’s eyes flutter shut.
he sits like that until his feet go numb on the floor and his computer screen goes dark from inactivity. for once, the darkness is almost comforting. it’s only his still-racing mind that keeps him conscious enough to not fall asleep.
quietly, you pad into the living room. you point your phone flashlight at the ground as you carefully maneuver through the hallways and around your furniture. oscar doesn’t move. he remains still, focused on taking slow, deep breaths. a small frown tugs at the corner of your lips at the sight. you furrow your eyebrows as you move to crouch down in front of him. gingerly, you place a hand on his knee. “oscar?”
oscar jumps. his gasp fills your living room, overpowering the low hum of your air conditioning. he blinks himself awake, eyes wide and untrusting until they finally meet your own. you wince, pulling your hand away quickly. “sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you.”
“no, no,” he shakes his head. you set your phone on the table face-down so the flashlight illuminates the room. oscar drags his hands against his face. even in the darkness, you can make out the deep eyebags beneath his eyes. his lips are curled into a frown and his eyebrows are furrowed. “i’m sorry. i didn’t hear you.”
for a moment, you let the silence linger. your gaze drifts across the room. oscar’s computer sits on the table, still open despite having turned itself off. a notebook sits beside it, filled with scribbles of data and strategy notes that you can’t quite decipher. oscar rolls his shoulders awkwardly in a poor attempt to release some of the tension that has refused to leave his shoulders.
“you should take a break.” gently, you reach over, taking oscar’s hand into your own. they’re soft and warm against your skin. you trace your fingertips along his knuckles, tracing the grooves of his hand. “come to bed with me.”
oscar furrows his eyebrows. he glances back at his computer for a moment before finally nodding. there’s a race soon. he has more data to go over. more sim laps to complete. he has to consider the weather and the tires and lando and his own performance and why the season hasn’t been going the way he wants.
but then you squeeze his hand. just one. gently. and you wait for him to decide.
you’re already looking at him when oscar turns to finally meet your gaze. you’re tired — he can see it in the way you slowly blink at him and the loose fit of his t-shirt over your shoulders and the eyebags under your own eyes. a pang of guilt settles into his gut. you had dragged yourself out of bed in the middle of the night just to check on him because you had woken up and he wasn’t there. because you cared about him.
so he nods. “okay.” oscar reaches over, shutting his computer and grabbing your phone off the table. he intertwines your fingers together as he slowly stands, ignoring the ache in his knees in the process. you follow his lead, letting him guide you back towards your bedroom. “let’s go to bed.”
you switch on the little lamp on your bedside table as oscar sets your phone down. golden light fills the room, just bright enough to guide your way. oscar runs a hand through his hair. you rest your hands against his waist just above his hips. his breath hitches softly, both at the surprise and at your touch.
“you’re incredible, osc,” you murmur. he takes a shaky breath when you take a step closer, leaning in to close the distance between you. your lips meet for a moment before you pull away, just enough to tease. “so handsome, and so sweet, and the best driver i know.”
oscar whispers your name. his eyes flutter shut when your hands roam, slowly growing more confident in the movements. your fingertips trace against the small of his back and then slide against his toned stomach. heat floods oscar’s face at the feeling. his cheeks flush brilliantly and the tips of his ears burn a shade of red you’ll be sure to tease him about later.
but for now, you smirk softly. oscar steps backwards until his legs hit the edge of your bed. your lips meet his once again as you coax him to sit down. his fingers curl into the sheets as yours grab onto the hem of his shirt. he gasps, softly this time, when you break away from him just long enough to tug it off of his head to fully expose his torso.
you push him even further down onto the sheets as your lips find oscar’s neck. he scrambles to follow your lead. your knees press into the mattress on either side of his hips as you come to straddle his lap. you gingerly scrape your teeth against his skin and oscar whines quietly. “is this okay?”
“yes,” oscar nods frantically. his hands come up to grab onto your own hips, chasing after the feeling of your body pressed against his own. his fingertips grasp onto your skin harsh enough to pull a whine from your own throat. oscar pulls you in even closer until your chests are pressed against each other. “please, don’t stop.”
you pull away from his neck with a final kiss pressed against the fresh mark. oscar blinks up at you through half-lidded eyes. his lips are swollen and his pupils are blown but he chases after your touch nonetheless. you smile softly at the sight.
you let your hands roam against oscar’s chest and down his sides once again. oscar inhales sharply when you gently press your fingers against his skin. “don’t think,” you whisper. your breath ghosts against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine. you smirk softly. “just let me take care of you.”
notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 thank you for the req! i hope you enjoy :) i agree anon but i also argue secret third option: oscar's back, this got way angstier at the beginning than anticipated whoops, i'm so bad at logistics when it gets suggestive you just have to be inside of my head seeing what i'm seeing
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hi can I request gr63 with a reader (male) who’s very prone to injuries? like every time reader always has at least one injury 🥹. love your writings as always if you don’t want to write this you can just ignore it 🥹
'cause i am lost without you, i cannot live at all / my whole world surrounds you, i stumble then i crawl
♫⋆。♪₊˚ puddle of mudd - blurry
(gn reader / fluff / 918 words) george takes care of you when you're hurt
“DON’T MOVE.” GEORGE RUSSELL’S hands are gentle against your skin when he gingerly brushes his fingertips against your knee. you hiss at his touch. it sends a fresh rush of pain through you, making you flinch away from him instinctually.
your leg blooms with various hues of red and purple already emerging just beneath the skin. it throbs slightly with irritation, only worsened by your insistence on walking through hospitality by yourself despite the nasty hit against an unfortunately low table. “sorry,” you whisper.
george pulls away with a small frown. the couch in his driver’s room is just long enough for you to comfortably stretch your leg out across the cushions. the fluorescent lights in the ceiling are too bright in the early morning. their harsh light only exacerbates the worst of your fresh injury.
“you have nothing to apologize for,” george says. he crouches beside you on the floor, now shifting his gaze to meet your own. his eyebrows are furrowed slightly. it’s an expression you see often, usually when he’s sitting in your kitchen pouring over data into the early hours of the morning. a cup of tea would sit near him, cold and forgotten. his hair would be tousled from his hands running through it every few minutes. you smile softly at the memory.
reaching forwards, you gingerly rub your thumb against the center of his forehead just between the crease. george flinches for a second before he relaxes. his eyes flutter shut and his lips quirk upwards at the edges into a small smile. “stop making that face. you’ll get wrinkles that way,” you tease.
“you love my wrinkles,” george retorts.
unfortunately, he’s right. you love george as he is now, and you’ll love him when you’re both ninety years old with graying hair and sun spots decorating your skin and your youth long gone, but never forgotten. not if you can help it.
your hand falls to george’s cheek to cup his face in your hand. he lets out a soft sigh in response, leaning slightly into your touch. you trace your thumb against the apple of his cheek, running along his cheekbone ever so slightly. “yeah. i do.”
that earns you a full smile. george shakes his head softly. he raises a hand to gingerly wrap around your wrist, pulling you away from his face much to your chagrin. instead, he pulls you closer, pressing a chaste kiss against your palm. his lips brush against the inside of your wrist for just a second.
george lets your hand fall away from his own as he moves to stand. his white linen pants are slightly dirtied now from where he was kneeling on the ground. his mercedes team kit fits loosely around his broad shoulders. a few stray strands of hair have been pushed out of place by the wind, though you’re sure he’ll fix them soon enough.
you only catch the mischievous glint in his eyes when it’s too late. the corner of george’s lips raise into a small smirk just as he leans down. one arm slips beneath your legs as the other comes to rest against the center of your back. “alright. come on, then.”
“george!” you yelp as he lifts you off of the couch and into the air. the sudden movement knocks the air from your lungs. you scramble for a moment, desperate to find something to ground you in mid-air.
you find it in the form of that damned mercedes team kit he’s always wearing. your hands curl into the fabric, wrinkling it just over the petronas logo. he shifts his weight, coaxing you to lean closer towards his chest. another hand rests beneath the curve of your knees. he smirks. the corners of george’s lips curl upwards at the ends ever so slightly. “i can’t have you putting any weight on an injured leg, now, can i?”
you groan but you lean into him all the same. george readily adjusts to your movements, wrapping his arms around you to pull you even closer. you rest your head against his shoulder. your hair tickles against his neck. “you’re impossible.”
“no, i’m your knight in shining armor.” your attention falls to george’s lips when he leans in, just enough to tease. they’re slightly tinted from the chapstick he had applied so diligently just hours ago. your tongue darts out of your own mouth, unconsciously running against your bottom lip. “there’s a difference.”
“yeah?” you ask. your gaze flickers back up to meet george’s as you lean your head to the side. they shine beneath the harsh lights above. you watch as his own gaze falls to your lips. you can’t help but smirk softly, closing the distance between you even more. “like what?”
george hums. “if i was impossible, you wouldn’t let me do this.”
before you can retort with yet another snarky remark, his lips meet your own. george’s kisses always start slow and deep. his lips part ever so slightly when you reach up. your fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck as you coax him even closer to you. your breath hitches when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, teasing with the promise of more.
you stifle a whine when he pulls away, leaving you with just a taste of what you really want. george chuckles lowly at your reaction. a small smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “now relax. just let me take care of you.”
notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 thank you for the req! i hope you enjoy :) i need to write for george more, just now realizing this doesn't include much about the actual injury that's my bad oops, did you guys see the oscar 🐝 news too so cute
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mercedes!male driver x kimi, miami grand prix moments? I LUV MERCEDES MALE READER SORRY
and through it all, the rise and the fall / you've always been right here with me all along
(gn mercedes driver reader / fluff / 2.5k words) a collection of moments racing with kimi at the miami grand prix
♫⋆。♪₊˚ sleeping with sirens - forever/always
THE MIAMI PADDOCK IS ALIVE LIKE FEW OTHERS WHEN YOU ARRIVE. the heat sticks to your skin like honey. chatter greets you on all sides. cameras flash when you pass by, lenses following your every move. your teamkit, just slightly oversized and intentionally made of breathable material, feels heavy on your shoulders.
the mercedes garage feels more like home than your apartment on some days. it’s already swarming with people. you dance around mechanics pushing tires back and forth and strategists bouncing between various data files. somewhere, bono is talking quietly with toto, each of them wearing a matching set of askew headsets.
behind you, an arm slips beneath the hem of your shirt and pressing into the now-exposed silver of flesh on your waist. his fingers brush against your side before you can pull away. you jump at the feeling, the air suddenly knocked out of your lungs. you flinch, curling into yourself as you squirm away from the ticklish feeling.
KIMI ANTONELLI laughs as he settles his arm around you. his hand is cold even as he relaxes it, pressing it into your body warmth. “good morning,” he says with a smile that’s far too mischievous for your liking.
“kimi.” he takes half a step closer, curling your body into his own until your back is pressed against his chest. he feels warm behind you. steady. his chin rests against your shoulder like it’s meant to be there. his curls tickle against your temple when he leans in even closer. “that was low. even for you.”
he shrugs but his smirk doesn’t falter. instead, kimi’s hand slips down to rest against your hip, now, toying with the hem of your jeans. he teasingly wraps his fingers into the empty belt loops. you curse yourself when your breath hitches at the feeling.
“just wanted to say good morning to my teammate,” he says. “had to make sure you were ready for the race today.”
you shake your head but it only makes kimi’s smile grow. he seems to relax for just a second when you lean back against his chest, now meeting his gaze. his eyes are golden in the sunlight, shining brightly with the ambition you fell in love with so long ago. “i’m always ready.”
“if you two are done flirting, we have a meeting to get to.” you startle at bono’s voice, low and commanding. he crosses his arms over his chest where he wears the white mercedes shirt you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him without. his headset has been abandoned, leaving a few messy strands of hair in its place. still, his lips curl upwards ever so slightly at the end as if amused despite himself.
“sorry, bono,” kimi says, now sheepish. he takes a small step back. his hand slips away from around your waist to instead awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck, almost embarrassed.
“sorry,” you echo. bono sighs when he turns on his heel, waving you to follow after him into the back of mercedes hospitality.
kimi shares your sheepish smile when you finally turn to face him. his face is flushed. a red hue decorates the tips of his ears and the column of his neck. you bite your tongue to stifle a laugh, gently knocking your shoulder into his when you begin walking. kimi quickly follows, letting his knuckles brush against your own on the way.
“KIMI, YOU’RE COMING OFF TWO BACK TO BACK WINS, HOW ARE YOU FEELING ABOUT THE GRAND PRIX THIS WEEKEND?” you stretch your legs out in front of you, aching to get out of the press conference you were mandated into every weekend. you toy with the cord of your microphone to keep your hands busy, watching as kimi lifts his own to his lips.
“yeah, i mean, the season has been good so far,” he begins. kimi raises a hand to adjust his cap, freeing a few more curls from beneath its edges. they frame his face perfectly. a few stray strands brush against his temples. you can’t help but smile softly at the sight. “i’m sure everyone will be fighting for points, of course. but i feel good. the car feels good. i’m ready for whatever happens in the sprint and in the grand prix as well.”
it’s a pr approved answer you’ve given before yourself, but it seems satisfactory nonetheless. kimi sets his microphone back on the couch, tucking it somewhere between the cushions. he smiles when he meets your gaze — a soft, boyish grin you’re used to seeing between stolen glances in hallways and half-hidden behind a bedsheet when you wake up in the mornings. a warmth spreads throughout your chest. you can only hope the cameras can’t pick up on your lovesickness.
another reporter steps up to the microphone. he calls for your attention, making you turn your gaze back towards the swarm of phones and cameras. “are you worried about a potential rivalry between yourself and kimi? he’s been having a good season so far, obviously. is there any worry there that you might be replaced?”
you pause. rude questions weren’t out of the ordinary, but it was rare that you were directly challenged on your standing within the team. you steel your expression as you reach for your microphone, raising it to your lips with as steady of a hand as you can manage. beside you, kimi’s hand ghosts against your knee.
“no, i’m not. i’m glad kimi has been having a great season, and that he’s been winning the races, but it’s still early. it’s early in the season and it’s early in our careers. i was on the podium with him in china and i’ve been in the points consistently this year — and last year, as well.”
“we’re a team,” kimi affirms. you gingerly take his hand into your own, offering a thankful squeeze as he continues. “we were in f2, as well. and nothing that happens on track will ever break us apart. the rivalry is only for fun. we’re both doing well and i think we’ll both keep doing well.”
“understood,” the reporter nods curtly. “thank you.”
THE MERCEDES GARAGE IS BUZZING WITH ENERGY THE WAY IT ONLY EVER IS BEFORE A RACE. you can feel the weight of their expectations no matter where you go. there are a handful of guests in the garage, as always — some celebrities you barely recognize; the broadcast camera crew lugging their cameras around on their shoulders; ted kravitz making idle conversation with bernie collins as they await the race start procedures.
you steal a quick glance up at the countdown when you go to grab your crash helmet and gloves. 10 minutes. the track is hot. scorching. your tires will overheat in no time and you’ll have to ration out your water supply to make it through the session. the race will be brutal, just like the sprint was.
you dance around a strategists bouncing between your side of the garage and kimi’s before finding a spot on an empty bench in the garage. a cameraman follows after you, pausing in the corner to focus his attention on your idle movements.
it doesn’t take long for kimi to find you. he slips away from his murmured conversation with bono and wanders past toto to come join you. “are you ready?” he asks. his voice is so quiet you nearly miss it entirely over the hum of the engines and the bustling surrounding you.
you fidget with your gloves in your hands, folding and unfolding the fabric. the camera operator zooms in onto the two of you even closer. you pretend not to notice how both you and kimi fill the nearby broadcast screens. “as ready as i can be,” you shrug. “worried about degradation in the summer.”
kimi nods. he shuffles ever so closer, limiting the space between you even more. his shoulder gently knocks into your own, teasing as much as it is comforting. he smiles softly. “you’re a good driver,” he says. your eyes flick back towards the broadcast screen when he does. thankfully, the feed has transitioned to the william’s garage, now playing empty b-roll of alex tugging his balaclava on.
kimi presses his fingertips against the inside of your wrist. you can feel your pulse beneath the pressure of his fingers. your eyes flutter shut; the noise in your head quiets for just long enough for you to catch your breath for once.
you stay like that for a few minutes. kimi’s hand is warm against your bare skin. his shoulder brushes against your own and his knees knock against yours. the afternoon sun fills miami’s empty sky. a gentle breeze rustles the nearby tree leaves. their shadows stretch across the world. slowly,
“let brundle worry about the tires,” kimi says, finally pulling you back into reality. his hand falls away from your wrist in the process. instead, it finds a new home in wrapping around your own. you intertwine your fingers with his. he squeezes your hand in return. “it’s a race. just enjoy it.”
with a final breath, you nod. “thank you,” you murmur.
kimi simply shakes his head. he smiles, soft and fond and boyish. he looks younger in the sunlight. his curls frame his face, only slightly overgrown at the ends. his face flushes when you reach up, gingerly tucking a stray strand behind his ear and away from his eyes. “they’re filming,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t look away.
you shrug. “let them.”
“KIMI!” you feel like the air has been stolen from your lungs. your hands are still trembling, aftershocks of the adrenaline of the race. kimi startles when you run towards him. he laughs loudly as you all but throw yourself into his arms, relying on him to support your body weight when you knock into him.
kimi laughs loudly. his arms snake around your waist as yours come to rest around his shoulders. you both stumble for balance through your giggles. somewhere nearby a cameraman circles you like a shark. oscar stands at the p2 bollard, watching with an amused half-smirk as he takes a sip from his water.
you tuck your head into kimi’s shoulder, hiding your face into the crook of his neck. kimi’s hands grip into the fabric of your racesuit. he clings to you tightly, laughing into your ear as he tucks you into his hold as much as possible.
“congratulations!” your heart is still racing as you pull away just enough to cup his face in your hands. his skin is soft against your hands. you trace your fingertips against the apple of kimi’s cheek, lingering on the pink indent his balaclava has temporarily left on his skin. he laughs even louder as he leans into your touch. “i’m so proud of you.”
“thank you, amore mio,” he says. his face is flushed. you can feel the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips. “congratulations to you, too. p3 is amazing.”
you roll your eyes though it lacks any real heat. kimi’s smile simply grows. “i’m so glad you’re here with me,” he says, now quieter and more sincere. “i wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.”
you try — and fail — to bite back your smile. instead, your hand slips to the edge of kimi’s racesuit before you’re pulling him in, sealing the race with a passionate kiss.
THE MORNING SUNLIGHT FILTERS THROUGH THE HOTEL’S LARGE WINDOWS, CASTING A GOLDEN GLOW ACROSS THE ROOM. you blink yourself awake, squinting at the overwhelming light flooding your still-tired eyes. your phone lays forgotten on the nightstand, buzzing incessantly with an incoming call.
you groan, twisting to grab the device. your eyes flutter shut as you swipe to accept the call, falling back onto the pillows with a small huff. “hello?”
“morning, lovebirds!” ollie’s voice is too loud and too excited for your brain. you groan in protest to the noise, still fighting the urge to simply hang up and fall back into your peaceful sleep. “glad you hear you’re still alive. i was starting to get worried.”
“what do you want, ollie?”
he huffs dramatically, faking offense at your complaints. you picture him pressing a hand against his heart with a dropped jaw, bemoaning the betrayal to anyone who will listen. “well, my friends are supposed to fly home with me tonight. you have a few hours before we need to be at the airport. i suggest you eat some food before we’re confined to a metal tube for thirteen hours.”
you roll onto your side, pushing yourself up onto your elbows halfway. the alarm clock stares mockingly back at you. its neon light is impossible to ignore. 3:58.
“yeah, yeah,” you mumble. “we’ll meet you in the lobby later. don’t worry.”
“okay,” ollie teases. “whatever you say. make sure kimi is alright, too. i need him to be able to walk through the airport.”
for once, you’re grateful for a phone call. heat spreads across your cheeks embarrassingly quickly. butterflies fly through your stomach. you pull the phone away from your ear like it’s burned you, muttering a quick, “goodbye, ollie,” before you end the call.
“was that ollie?”
you startle at kimi’s voice from beside you. he’s made a mound of pillows on his side of the bed to prop himself up at an angle. bruises litter his collarbones and chest, beginning just low enough to be hidden by the collar of his team kit. his hair is fluffier than usual. it sticks up at odd angles. you chuckle at the sight, closing the distance between you on the bed. “who else?” you huff.
kimi chuckles. you lean your head against his chest, finding a home in his arms once again. his arms slip around your bare waist as he begins tracing a few miscellaneous shapes against your skin. you let your eyes flutter shut, listening to the steady hum of kimi’s heartbeat against your ear. the rhythm lulls you back towards sleep.
“just ignore him,” kimi murmurs. he leans in, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “he’s just salty he’s alone in miami.”
you hum, nuzzling yourself even closer to kimi. he reaches down to pull the blankets around your bare bodies even tighter as the air conditioning starts up again. the machine whirs loudly, cutting through the otherwise tranquil silence in the room.
“you’re the light of my life,” he murmurs. he raises his free hand to cup your cheek, gingerly tracing his thumb against your skin. your eyes flutter open at the contact, finally meeting his gaze. kimi leans in, quick to steal a sweet kiss. you nearly whine when he pulls away with a soft chuckle and an even fonder glint in his eyes. “i love you. more than anything else in the world.”
notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 thank you so much for the req! especially thank you for the male reader req i hope you enjoy :) yes i know the pic is from montreal but i had it in my camera roll already okay, got a little carried away with this but i wanted to have a handful of moments from throughout the weekend, so proud of kimi i'm curious what monaco will be like yk with the track and all
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i'm guiding your chin to my lips / using only my fingertips
♫⋆。♪₊˚ pierce the veil - song for isabelle
(gn reader / fluff to suggestive-ish / 846 words) watching the sunset on the beach with oscar
THE SAND BENEATH YOUR FEET SINK WITH EACH STEP, STILL DAMP FROM WHERE THE TIDE HAS PUSHED ONTO THE SHORE. ahead, the sun slowly sinks below the horizon. its light casts a golden glow across the world. it highlights the ridges of the waves when they push and pull onto the land. the breeze rustles a few nearby tree leaves. their shadows dance along the shore.
beside you, OSCAR PIASTRI slips his hand into your own. you shiver when the cool metal of his watch brushes against your arm. his knuckles brush against yours for just a moment before his fingers trail against your palm. he intertwines your hands together like it’s second nature, offering your hand a gentle squeeze with a fond smile.
“thank you for inviting me here,” you say. you gently knock your shoulder against oscar’s, playfully leaning your body against his own. he chuckles in response, giving your hand another squeeze as you come to pause near the edge of the shore.
ahead of you, the sun has slowly begun to slip out of view. the nearby trees sway in the breeze. the tide laps against the sand every few seconds, stretching as far as your eyes can see. the sky above fills with hues of pink and blue. the swirl together among the clouds. “it really is beautiful.”
oscar smiles, soft and fond. you had seen it before — after races when his mother would wrap him into a tight hug; on the paddock when a fan told him he was her inspiration to start karting; on your phone while scrolling through social media when you had gone to dinner with his sisters. you hadn’t noticed it, then. but it was impossible to miss now. "yeah, it is."
“so cheesy,” you groan, but it lacks any malice.
oscar simply laughs. he pulls you back into his hold until your back meets his chest. you spin until you’re both facing the sunset, watching the silhouette of a few birds cutting through the sky. their cries fill the otherwise quiet beach.
he leans in, pressing a chaste kiss against your temple. you find yourself smiling along, enjoying the serenity of the moment while it lasts. oscar startles when the water brushes against his bare feet. he jumps, hands finding your waist as he clings to you. your hands find his shoulders in return. you can feel the warmth of his chest and his slowing heartbeat. “are you okay?”
oscar flushes beneath your gaze. heat floods his neck and runs to the tips of his ears, tinting the skin a soft shade of pink. he nods sheepishly, taking a small step back towards the sand. “the water’s cold.”
“oh, poor oscar,” you tease. you raise a hand, pushing a stray strand of hair back into place. the wind had rustled the careless style leaving a few pieces of hair sticking up at an odd angle. oscar rolls his eyes but leans into your touch nonetheless. “is it too cold for you?”
he wraps his arms around you tighter, hands tracing the curve of your waist until they come to rest against your hips. your breath hitches when his fingertips dip just beneath the hem of your bottoms, teasingly running his nails against the hidden skin beneath. your own hand falls lower on his chest, now pressing against his sternum.
oscar leans in until you can feel his breath ghosting against your lips. your own heartbeat pounds in your ears, blocking out the sound of the birds chirping nearby and the slow hum of the tide. your eyes flutter shut when his nose brushes against yours. oscar smirks. “maybe you should warm me up,” he murmurs.
you part your lips to reply but oscar is faster. his left hand finds the curve of your jaw, cradling your face as he tilts to the side. his lips meet yours with fervor. they’re soft against your own from the mint chapstick he had applied hours earlier. he tugs you closer with his right hand, stepping back into the cold water and pulling your body flush against his own.
your own hand curls into oscar’s hair. your fingertips weave through the overgrown strands at the nape of his neck, gently tugging as you fight for dominance. you’re rewarded with a quiet noise that sends heat through you. still, he doesn’t let up, teasingly running his tongue against your bottom lip.
you pull away with a gasp, lungs burning for air and lips newly swollen. oscar smiles. his cheeks are flushed and his hair is even more dishevelled than it was earlier. the sun has almost completely disappeared. darkness slowly begins to fill the sky as its light dips beneath the curve of the earth.
“let’s go home?”
“yeah,” you nod, breathless. your hand falls from the name of his neck to rest against his shoulder. his skin feels hot beneath your palm. you take half a step closer, tugging oscar closer so your lips nearly brush against the shell of his ear. “so you can finish what you started.”
notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 written for ME after whatever the hell happened in canada, can someone unhex alex albon please, experimenting with more suggestive endings kinda sorta, this is set in melbourne btw i didn't make that clear but oh well
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 masterlist <3
heyyy could i req charles leclerc x reader? maybe charles teaching reader french and talking to them with french endearments? tysmm
every night i burn / every night i fall again
♫⋆。♪₊˚ the cure - burn
(gn reader / fluff / 894 words) charles teaches you french! (and piano)
SUNLIGHT FILTERS THROUGH THE LINEN CURTAINS HANGING OVER YOUR WINDOWS, REFLECTING GOLDEN LIGHT THROUGHOUT YOUR APARTMENT. the ocean’s waves lap against monaco’s shore in a slow, gentle rhythm. the air smells of sea salt and sand. nearby, a breeze rustles the leaves of a few overgrown trees. the deep sound of a few low piano notes reverberates throughout the space. it cuts through the otherwise quiet afternoon. the scale repeats every few minutes, over and over, until the hesitation and pauses between each note lessens to nothing.
leo’s paws pad quietly against your hardwood floors as he scampers through the space. you follow after him, careful not to step on his smaller body as he weaves between your legs. you chuckle softly as you lean down, catching the dog in your arms to hold him against your chest. he wriggles in your hold but licks your cheek nonetheless.
your footsteps are quiet as you wander into the large, open space of your living room. CHARLES LECLERC sits in the corner, eyes still trained on the keys before him. the piano was a housewarming gift from his family — one of the first things they had gifted when you moved in together. charles had made a habit of letting his fingers wander across the keys, letting his racing mind finally rest through the various melodies.
for a moment, you pause in the doorway. leo makes himself comfortable in your arms, nuzzling his wet nose against the crook of your neck. charles had exchanged his ferrari team kit for an off-white cotton shirt and an old pair of sweatpants. his hair is still damp on the ends from his earlier shower. his fingers dance across the keys almost without care, letting the notes fill the quiet.
charles looks softer. more human.
you kneel down, setting leo onto the floor. he quickly rushes off, darting towards a patch of sunlight on your couch. charles turns, then, catching your gaze with a soft, fond smile. “mon amour,” he smiles.
you match his smile as you wander towards him. charles welcomes you with an arm wrapped around your waist as you come to sit beside him on the bench. it leaves little room for both of your bodies. your knees knock against each other. charles chuckles beneath his breath before leaning in to press a chaste kiss against your temple.
“joues-tu du piano?” (are you playing the piano?) you ask. the words come out slightly shaky and slower than usual. they feel unfamiliar in your mouth as you try to work out the correct pronunciation of the words.
“joues-tu,” charles corrects. his fingertips dance against your hip. your breath catches when he slips his hand just beneath the hem of your shirt. you lean your head against his shoulder in response, hoping charles doesn’t notice how flustered his touch makes you. “oui, juste pour le plaisir.” (yes, just for fun.)
“for fun?” you repeat. charles nods. he brings his free hand up to the keys once again, playing the melody once again. it sounds incomplete without the right-hand keys. still, the sound calms you. from somewhere behind you, leo lets out a loud sigh. “m’enseigneras-tu?” (will you teach me?)
“piano?” charles smiles. “of course. what do you want to learn?”
you raise your hand before gingerly resting it on the keys. they feel cool beneath your fingertips. you glide your hand across the ridges between each of them carefully. charles lifts his hand away from your waist to cover your own.
“enseigne-moi…“ (teach me…) you furrow your eyebrows as you search through your vocabulary for the words. “votre création?” (your work?)
“a piece i wrote?” charles supplies. you nod. he chuckles softly, pausing for a few seconds himself to translate between the languages. “ah… apprends-moi une pièce que tu as écrite.” (teach me a piece you wrote.)
“apprends-moi une pièce que tu as écrite,” (teach me a piece you wrote.) you repeat. you let the words linger, repeating them a few more times in your head to ensure you remember them. the accent curls around the words unfamiliarly. you do your best to mimic how they sound when charles says them.
“lentement,” (slowly.) charles says. his touch is warm as he guides your fingers over the keys, retracing the steps to build the melody. he fills in the gaps with his free hand, matching the calm pace you’ve set for yourself.
you repeat the movements over and over until they’re second nature. at some point charles’s hand falls away from your own, coming to rest against the small of your back once again. he makes busy tracing a few miscellaneous shapes against your side. you relax into his touch, leaning against his chest as much as you can.
“good,” charles murmurs. he leans in, pressing another kiss to your cheek. you can’t help the way you smile softly at the feeling. “tu es incroyable.” (you’re incredible.)
outside, traffic begins to build up on monaco’s roadways as people rush to return home. the wind picks up, rustling the tree branches so violently they threaten to knock against your window. but tucked away in the safety of your apartment, leo sleeps soundly on your living room rug. charles wraps his arm around your waist once again, settling against your side as the gentle sound of the music filters throughout your shared apartment.
notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! f1 reqs are open and greatly appreciated <3 thank you for requesting!! i hope you enjoy :) fun fact i had this idea for kimi too so i'm glad i got this req i love this idea but idk about my execution, I DONT SPEAK FRENCH IF THIS DOESNT MAKE SENSE IM SORRY, thinking of potentially maybe writing for arthur too idk the leclercs charm me, wrote this during sprint quali alex pls do good on sunday i beg
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 masterlist <3