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@not-magdi
WELCOME TO MY BLOG/ MASTERLIST
-Hi and welcome to my blog! First of all a few things about me:
I'm eighteen
I want to study sports
Fav colour is blue
I play tennis
-Who I write for:
Lando Norris
Mason Thames
Miguel Mora
Every Masterlist has a link where you can request if you like
LANDO NORRIS MASTERLIST
BARÇA MASTERLIST
BEN SHELTON MASTERLIST
-surprise! / miguel mora
Pairing: miguel mora x fem!reader
Warnings: none
Words: 1.6k
-It's my birthday today! So I thought I'd celebrate by posting this for you guys <3
Love you guys, Magdi <3
When you told Miguel you couldn’t fly out to Florida for his birthday because you weren’t able to get time off work, he, of course, told you that it was fine and that you shouldn’t worry about it. But the slight disappointment in his eyes was as clear as day.
You told him you would call him at exactly 12 a.m. to wish him a happy birthday.
You were absolutely lying to his face.
Because while you told him you couldn’t come over the phone, your laptop was open on your lap, the flights to Florida already paid for and booked.
———
Florida in late February feels unfairly warm.
Miguel’s been there for two days already — fan meet-and-greets, panels, photos, smiles that start to feel a little mechanical by hour four. He misses you, of course. He understands why you couldn’t come with him, but a selfish part of him wishes you could experience this with him.
The fact that his birthday was tomorrow didn’t make things any better.
Birthdays were never something to make a big deal out of for him; you turn a year older, and that’s it. But they were something special to you.
Ever since you two got into a relationship, you made it your personal mission to make March 1st the most special day of the year. And Miguel has to admit, over time he grew to love how excited you got when he blew out the candles and opened the presents you got for him.
So not having you here puts a bit of a damper on his mood.
———
It’s just after 11 p.m. when your plane lands at Tampa International Airport. After checking your bag for the tenth time to make sure Miguel’s gift is still there, you make your way outside to find Wendy.
You told her your plan the second you came up with it — you needed her help to get into Miguel’s room. Because telling the front desk you’re Miguel Mora’s girlfriend and asking for a key would probably end with you getting arrested.
Wendy happily offered to help, even picking you up from the airport so you wouldn’t have to take a taxi at night.
So that’s how you find yourself scanning the parking lot for the dark-haired woman.
“Y/N, over here!”
Turning around, you spot her waving at you near the exit and make your way over.
“Aww, come here, my dear. I haven’t seen you in forever.”
Opening her arms, she pulls you into a tight hug.
You laugh softly as you hug her back. “Hi, Wendy. It’s so good to see you.”
She pulls away after a moment, keeping her hands on your shoulders as she looks at you with a warm smile.
“How was the flight?” she asks.
“Long,” you admit with a small sigh. “But honestly, the excitement kept me awake the whole time.”
“I can imagine,” she chuckles. “Sneaking across the country to surprise my son is quite the mission.”
You grin. “Worth it.”
Her eyes sparkle with amusement before she gestures toward the parking lot behind her.
“Come on, let’s get your bags before someone else runs off with them.”
You follow her across the dimly lit parking lot toward her car, rolling your suitcase behind you. The warm Florida air hits your face again, a sharp contrast to the cool air inside the airport.
Wendy reaches the trunk first and presses the button on her key.
The trunk pops open with a soft click.
“Let me help you with that,” she says, already reaching for the handle of your suitcase.
“Oh, I’ve got it—” you start, but she’s already lifting it inside.
“Please,” she waves you off lightly. “You just flew all the way here. The least I can do is carry a bag.”
You laugh and hand her your smaller backpack, which she places next to the suitcase before closing the trunk.
She turns back to you with a conspiratorial smile.
“So,” she lowers her voice slightly, “Miguel has absolutely no idea you’re here, right?”
“None,” you say proudly. “He thinks I’m at home and that I’ll call him tomorrow.”
Wendy shakes her head, clearly impressed.
“He’s going to lose his mind.”
“I hope so,” you grin nervously. “In a good way.”
“Oh, definitely in a good way,” she reassures you as the two of you walk toward the passenger side of the car. “He’s been pretending he’s fine about you not coming, but I know my son.”
You pause for a moment beside the car door.
“He’s been a little sad?” you ask quietly.
Wendy gives you a knowing look.
“Just a little.”
That only makes your excitement grow.
“Well,” you say as you climb into the passenger seat, “then hopefully this makes up for it.”
Wendy starts the engine and pulls out of the parking spot.
“Oh honey,” she says with a warm smile, “this is going to make his entire year.”
You arrive at his hotel room door at exactly 11:58 p.m. The small cupcake you bought at a bakery in the airport glows softly as Wendy lights the one and nine candles on top.
“Okay, perfect. Thank you so much for helping me,” you whisper as she unlocks the door to let you in.
“No problem. But you have to show me the video of how he reacts tomorrow morning.”
She hugs you goodbye while you try to be as quiet as possible as you slip into his room.
The room is completely dark. The blinds dim the lights from the buzzing city outside.
Miguel’s asleep on his stomach, one arm tucked under the pillow, hair a mess against the white sheets.
You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling too hard.
The cupcake serves as the only source of light as you sneak over to the bed and very gently climb onto the mattress. It dips slightly under your weight as you sit cross-legged next to him.
He shifts slightly but doesn’t wake.
For a second, you just look at him.
He looks so peaceful, his lips in a slight pout as he smushes his face deeper into his pillow.
Then you lean down and whisper, “Miguel.”
He groans softly, hiding his face underneath the blanket.
“Miguel,” you try again, softer but closer to his ear.
He inhales sharply — and when his eyes snap open, you’re right there.
He jolts so violently that he actually rolls off the bed.
“Ahh — what the hell!?”
You gasp as the dark mop of hair looks up at you from the floor, eyes barely open, one hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh that’s threatening to escape.
“Oh dear, are you okay?” you giggle.
“Oh my god,” he breathes, staring at you like you’ve just materialized out of thin air. “You scared the hell out of me.”
You’re already laughing.
“Happy birthday!”
He blinks at you.
Once.
Twice.
“…What?”
You dramatically hold the cupcake in front of his face.
He blinks slowly, clearly not awake enough yet to register what’s going on. The soft light of the candles reflects in his teddy-bear eyes. There’s a beat of pure confusion on his face before it shifts into something softer.
“You’re here,” he says quietly.
“Yeah.”
“You said you weren’t coming.”
“I lied.”
He runs a hand through his hair, still trying to process.
“How are you here?”
“With a plane, and then a car, and then the elevator,” you say casually, like that’s not a huge deal. “Your mom let me in.”
He looks back at you.
“You flew to Florida.”
“For you.”
There’s a long pause.
Then he exhales, a breath that sounds like disbelief wrapped in something dangerously close to emotion.
“You’re insane,” he murmurs.
“Maybe.”
He looks at the cupcake again, then back at you.
“You kicked me out of my bed at midnight.”
“You fell out of it. That’s not my fault.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh, still half in shock.
Then he climbs back onto the bed and sits in front of you.
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
You grin. “Blow out your candles before the smoke alarm ruins the moment.”
Holding the cupcake out in front of him, he wraps his hands around yours as he leans down to blow out the candles.
You start singing softly — dramatically, and off-key on purpose.
When you finish, he closes his eyes briefly before blowing them out in one steady breath.
“Did you make a wish?” you ask softly.
He looks at you, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
“Yeah.”
“What was it?”
“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously.
But then he leans forward and kisses you softly — slow, warm, unhurried.
You squeal when he suddenly drags you down onto the mattress, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist.
“You scared me,” he mutters into your hair.
“You screamed.”
“I did not scream.”
“You absolutely did.”
He leans back just enough to look at you properly now, his hands still on your waist like he needs to confirm you’re real.
“You said you couldn’t come,” he pouts.
“I know, but I wanted to surprise you.”
You look up at him.
“This is the best birthday I’ve had in a long time,” he says quietly.
You smile.
“Good,” you whisper. “Because I booked us breakfast for tomorrow morning.”
His eyes widen slightly.
“You’re staying?”
You grin.
“Obviously.”
---
Hope you enjoyed it !!
Subways of Your Mind
Summary: Caught between love and loyalty the question of whether confronting the past will hurt or heal lingers
a/n: Sorry for disappearing and thank you to everyone asking about my well being. I ended up deleting and redoing all my works because I ended up hating them all. I feel my writing has become very flat and repetitive so I hope this is all to your liking. As always thank you and enjoy reading.
Previous -> here
Words: 4949
The car ride home was quieter than usual.
Not uncomfortable, just subdued as if the world had turned the volume down a notch. The heater hummed softly, fogging the edges of the windshield. Gwen sat in the backseat, staring out the window with her chin propped on her hand. She hadn’t said much since Ernesto peeled off toward the civic center, only muttering something about needing a shower and hating everyone at school.
Finney sat in the passenger seat, shoulders slightly hunched, hands folded together in his lap fiddling with the loose thread on his sleeve. He kept sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking, then immediately staring out the windshield when you caught him.
You noticed anyway. You always did.
“Seatbelt,” you said gently, nodding at his chest.
“Oh—right.” He fumbled with it, ears already starting to pink. Gwen snorted from the back.
“Wow, Finn. Really keeping it together today.”
“Gwen,” you warned, but there was a smile tugging at your mouth.
“I’m just saying.”
Finney rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He relaxed just a fraction once you pulled out of the parking lot, the tires crunching over ice as the school faded behind you.
The town slid past in familiar blurs, quiet streets, houses glowing warm contrasting the cloud filled sky. Finney’s knee bounced once, twice, then stilled when you rested your hand over it at a red light.
He froze.
Then he melted.
His knee stopped bouncing immediately, and his hand shifted just enough for his pinky to hook around yours. He didn’t look at you, but his ears burned red all the same.
Gwen noticed. Of course she did.
She smiled to herself and turned back to the window.
By the time you pulled into the driveway, Gwen was already unbuckling her seatbelt. “I’m gonna head to my room for a bit,” she announced, opening the car door. “I’ve got homework and I don’t feel like watching you two make out in the living room
“Gwen!” Finney groaned, mortified.
She laughed, already halfway up the steps. “Relax, I’m kidding. Mostly.”
The front door shut behind her, leaving the car quiet again.
Finney didn’t move to get out right away.
“You coming?” you asked softly.
“Yeah. Yeah.” He hesitated, then added, quieter, “Can you… um. Can you look at it? My lip. Before she comes back.”
Your chest softened. “Of course.”
Finney lingered near the door after you both stepped inside, shrugging out of his jacket slowly like he wasn’t sure what to do next. You kicked off your shoes and glanced at him.
“Bathroom?” you asked gently.
He nodded. “Yeah. If that’s okay.”
“Always.”
Finney followed close behind you, like he always did. The space between you was something he didn’t trust to stay empty for long. You flicked on the light and grabbed the first-aid kit from under the sink while he perched on the edge of the counter, hands tucked into the sleeves of his sweater. His eyes tracked every movement you made, nervous energy buzzing just under the surface.
When you stepped closer, he stilled completely.
“Lift your chin for me,” you murmured.
He did immediately, ears flushing red the second your fingers touched his jaw. Uncapping the antiseptic with practiced ease, Finney sucked in a sharp breath not from pain, but nerves.
“Am I pressing too hard?”
He swallowed. “I didn’t mean to—”
Your thumb brushed the corner of his mouth, careful, feather-light. “It’s not bad,” you murmured. “Just looks worse than it is.”
He looked at you then, really looked, searching your face like he was bracing for something to be missing. When he didn’t find it, his shoulders sagged with relief. You dabbed gently at the cut. He flinched once, then relaxed, eyes half-lidding as your touch stayed steady and calm.
“You’re not mad?” he asked quietly.
“No.”
“Not… scared?”
Your hand paused for just a second. You met his eyes, clear and sure.
“Finn,” you said softly, “I’m right here. Aren’t I?”
His breath hitched.
He nodded, throat working. “I just—sometimes I think one day you’re gonna wake up and realize I’m… a lot. That I’m angry or broken or—” He broke off, jaw tightening. “That I’ll scare you.”
Your heart clenched.
You set the cotton down and leaned closer, resting your forehead against his knee. “Hey. Look at me.”
He did, instantly.
“You survived something awful,” you said gently. “And you’re still kind. You’re still you. That doesn’t scare me. Losing you would.”
Finney's breath hitched.
Before you could say anything else, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. Finney’s face was buried into your shoulder, his fingers gripping your back as if he were afraid you’d slip through his fingers if he didn’t hold tight enough. You wrapped your arms around him without hesitation, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of his head.
“I’ve got you,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He clung to you for a long moment, breathing you in, grounding himself. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were glassy, ears still flaming, mouth twitching like he didn’t know whether to smile or apologize.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to—”
You kissed his cheek before he could finish.
Finney’s cheeks flushed, eyes soft, mouth tilted in a shy, relieved smile.
“…oh,” he said faintly.
You smiled. “All patched up.”
Finney stayed frozen, as if his brain had short-circuited entirely. His cheek was still warm where your lips had touched it, and his ears had gone such a deep red it felt like they might actually burn.
Then his hands came up, slowly curling into the fabric at your sides. His thumbs pressed there, grounding, anchoring. He leaned in before he could talk himself out of it, resting his forehead against yours.
“Sunny,” he breathed.
You felt it in his voice. Not teasing. Not shy. Needing.
When your lips met his, it was gentle at first. Soft and familiar in a way that made your chest ache. Finney’s thumbs pressed harder into your side as if to check you were still real. Still here. You felt the tension in him before he even pulled back. He rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, his breathing heavy. You leaned into his embrace, causing Finey’s whole body to soften, like something inside him finally unclenched.
He held you like he always did when the thoughts got loud. Like you were an anchor.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he said quietly, the words pressed into your hair. “I think about it all the time. That one day you’re gonna wake up and decide I’m too much to handle.”
Your chest tightened.
His fingers curled tighter in your shirt. “I know I shouldn’t think like that. I know you’ve never given me a reason. But sometimes my head just—” He shook it slightly. “You’re the only place it gets quiet.”
You tipped your head back just enough to look at him.
“Hey,” you said softly. “You don’t scare me. You don’t weigh me down. You’re not something I’m tolerating.”
His eyes flicked to yours, searching, vulnerable.
“I choose you,” you said. “Every day.”
That did something to him.
He kissed you again, deeper this time, hunger bleeding through the tenderness. His mouth moved against yours like he was trying to say everything he didn’t have the words for. Like if he kissed you hard enough, you’d understand how badly he needed you to stay.
His hands slid up your back, warm and grounding, pulling you flush against him. You could feel his heartbeat through his chest, fast and steady, matching yours. He breathed you in like you were oxygen.
When he finally pulled back, his lips hovered just a breath away.
“You make me feel safe,” he whispered. “When everything else feels like it’s gonna fall apart… it’s you. It’s always you, Sunny.”
His ears were bright red again, like admitting it out loud still embarrassed him, even after all this time.
You kissed him once more, slow and reassuring, hands cradling his face. Resting your forehead against his, he let out a shaky breath that sounded like relief.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured.
He nodded, eyes closed, holding onto you like he believed you, but still needed the reminder.
There, in the quiet bathroom with the light humming softly overhead, Finney stayed wrapped around you, steadying himself in the one place he trusted completely.
With you.
Exactly where he felt safest.
-
“Welcome back to Night Flight. Here’s German band FEX with their new hit “Subways of Your Mind.” The DJ’s voice melted back into the music, and the TV continued to murmur softly, its glow painting the living room in dim blues and silvers.
You and Finney were curled together on the couch, legs tangled, your head laying against his chest. You were wrapped in his sweater, that hug loose on you. One of his arms was around your middle, the other propping his own head up.
It had gotten late without either of you really noticing.
Your eyes kept slipping closed, lashes fluttering every time the music dipped or the room went especially quiet. You’d wake just enough to shift closer, instinctively finding his warmth again, then drift right back under.
Finney noticed every time.
He was half-watching the TV, but his attention kept snagging onto you. The slow rise and fall of your chest, the way your breathing evened out when you fully relaxed. He adjusted himself subtly whenever you moved, making sure you were comfortable, tucking the blanket higher when your shoulder slipped free.
Your head rested beneath his chin now. Every breath you took brushed warm against his collarbone.
He listened to each inhale, soft and steady. Each exhale, a little sigh.
His thumb traced absentminded circles against your waist, slow and grounding, careful not to wake you. Finney’s chest tightened, not with fear this time, but with the weight of having something he didn’t want to lose. You shifted, your hand finding the hem of his shirt, fingers curling there even in your sleep. Finney stilled, then relaxed completely, resting his cheek against the side of your head.
The TV kept playing, low and distant, the night otherwise still, until a soft creak sounded from the hallway.
A sudden draft of cold air brushing your face jolted you awake. You blinked, disoriented, eyes struggling to focus in the dark. For a split second your heart jumped, until the shape by the doorway shifted.
A familiar one.
“Oh—hey, Gwen,” you mumbled sleepily, voice rough. “What’s up?”
She didn’t answer.
Gwen stood barefoot on the threshold, her eyes closed, arms hanging loose at her sides. Her breathing was slow, almost too slow. She took a step forward, your words falling deaf upon her ears. In her trance like state Gwen picked up the phones receiver, before dropping it like a hot stone
Your stomach dropped.
“Gwen?” you tried again, softer this time. You carefully slipped out from under the blanket, the couch springs whispering in protest. “Hey, you okay?”
No reaction.
Her lips parted as if she were about to speak, but no sound came out. Then she turned to walk toward the front door.
“Gwen?” you called, heart kicking up. You hurried after her, catching her hand just as she reached for the knob. Her fingers were cold in yours.
“Gwen,” you said again, firmer now. “Wake up.”
She was almost out the door now.
“Gwen, wake up.”
She stilled. “What are you-”
“Jesus Gwen you’re freezing. Are you alright?”
“I was just sleepwalking again.” She said walking back inside the house, you shut the door behind her.
“Does that happen often?” You asked quietly, still holding her hand, thumb brushing over her knuckles in a grounding way.
Gwen shook her head, though it wasn’t very convincing. “I just- I just had a bad dream.” She said, her eyes focused on the floor.
You studied her for a moment, then nodded gently. “Okay. Let’s just go back to bed.”
She let out a breath like she’d been waiting for permission.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “Bed sounds good.”
You turned slightly to guide her back down the hall, nearly running into Finney as he came around the corner.
He’d clearly hurried inside the way the cold clung to him, his hair a little mussed from the night air. His eyes flicked immediately to Gwen, alert and worried.
“Everything okay?” he asked, voice low.
“I had a bad dream,” Gwen said, rubbing at her arms like she could still feel it clinging to her.
Finney’s jaw tightened immediately. He stepped closer, the air in the room shifting fast, sharp with tension. “Just go back to bed, Gwen.”
She frowned at him. “Finney, I said I had a bad dream.”
In your sleepy state, your eyes darted between the two of them, trying to piece it together. The hallway felt even colder somehow, the TV still murmuring in the background like it hadn’t noticed anything was wrong.
Gwen squeezed your hand once more before letting go. “Thanks,” she muttered, already turning toward the hallway.
“Anytime,” you said softly.
-
The morning had come and went with no discussion of Gwen’s sleepwalking and bad dreams. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought you dreamed it.
Gwen was her usual self at breakfast, her voice filled with her usual half awake sarcasms as she stole the last piece of toast like nothing strange had happened. Finney barely looked at her, too busy pretending to focus on his cereal, like avoidance alone could keep the night from resurfacing. Even the drive to school was just like every other day, but every so often you caught yourself replaying it. The eerie trance Gwen was under, how dismissive Finney was the second Gwen told him she had a bad dream.
By lunch he had caught you staring one too many times.
“What?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“Nothing,” you said, too quickly.
He didn’t push, but you felt his hand find yours without looking. His grip was firm, grounding, like he was reminding himself you were real. Like he was reminding you.
-
Work should’ve been routine.
Fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, the low murmur of customers and coworkers, the familiar rhythm of tasks you could do on autopilot. Normally, it would’ve been enough to distract you.
Today, it wasn’t.
Your thoughts kept circling back to the night before, the way Gwen moved as if she was being pulled by something you couldn’t see. The way Finney had shut it down so fast. Just go back to bed. Like saying it plainly enough could erase it.
You rubbed your arms, frowning.
It wasn’t cold in the building. If anything, the gas station was hot and yet you couldn’t shake the chill sitting just under your skin. You glanced over your shoulder.
Nothing.
Still, the sensation lingered. That prickle at the back of your neck. The unmistakable awareness of being watched.
Get it together, you told yourself. You’re tired. That’s all.
That was before everything dropped into sudden darkness. No warning, no flickering, just sudden engulfment in black. The hum of the machines died mid-breath, leaving behind a heavy, unnatural silence.
“Goddamnit,” you heard Babette mutter under her breath as she shuffled toward the breakroom, shoes scuffing against the floor in the dark.
Someone else laughed nervously. “Power outage?”
“Probably,” you answered too quickly, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself.
You stayed where you were, fingers gripping the edge of the counter. Your eyes strained against the darkness, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter. The silence felt wrong. Thick. Like the building itself was holding its breath.
That’s when the cold deepened. It felt sharper as it crawled up your spine, eventually settling in between your shoulder blades. Your pulse thudded loudly in your ears, the prickling feeling growing stronger as if someone were glaring daggers into the back of your head.
Slowly you turned to face the front door.
The sight made your heart drop to your stomach. You could see a tall silhouette of what you assumed to be a man standing in the doorway. His eyes, the only distinguishing thing about him, were staring right into yours.
At first you thought it was just the dark playing tricks on you, then they blinked. Your breath caught painfully in your throat.
Eyes.
Round and unblinking, fixed on you with an attention that felt intentional. Not curious. Not confused, but watching.
You couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe properly. The rest of the store faded away, the murmurs, the footsteps, the clatter from the breakroom, it was just you and those eyes, suspended in the dark.
A thousand thoughts tried to scream at once, but none of them made it past the fear lodged in your chest.
This isn’t real. This isn’t happening.
The eyes didn’t come closer, they didn’t need to.
Fluorescent bulbs flickered angrily overhead before settling into their usual harsh glow. Sound rushed back in all at once, machines rebooting, someone groaning, Babette swearing again from the back.
You sucked in a sharp breath, almost dizzy from it.
The space where the eyes had been was empty. Just aisles. Coolers. Nothing out of place. Nothing that could’ve been there.
“Damn circuit breaker tripped,” Babette mumbled as she came back out of the break room, rubbing at her temple. “This place is held together with duct tape and spite.”
You forced yourself to breathe normally, nodding along as if that explanation fit the way your heart was still trying to punch its way out of your chest. Your hands trembled as you pressed them flat against the counter, grounding yourself in the cold laminate.
“Everything’s back on,” Babette added, already moving behind the counter. “If it goes again, I’m clocking out.”
The store slipped back into its rhythm. The coolers hummed. The register chimed. Outside, cars passed like nothing strange had happened at all.
But the cold didn’t leave you.
It lingered, coiled low in your stomach, crawling up your spine every time the door opened. You kept catching yourself glancing at reflective surfaces, half-expecting to see something staring back.
Nothing ever was.
Still, you couldn’t shake the certainty that something had been there. That those eyes hadn’t been a trick of the dark or a tired brain filling in gaps. They felt aware.
-
You hadn’t been able to sleep once you returned home.
The house was quiet, not in a way that was peaceful, just empty. No TV murmuring. No music drifting through the walls. Even the usual creaks and groans of the place felt subdued, like they were deliberately keeping still.
You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks you’d memorized years ago. Finney’s sweater was pulled tight around you, the fabric worn soft from overuse, smelling faintly like smoke and laundry soap. Normally, it helped.
Tonight, it didn’t.
Every time you shut your eyes, you saw them again.
The doorway. The silhouette. Those eyes, focused on your every move.
You rolled onto your side, the mattress giving a quiet sigh beneath you. The red glow of the alarm clock on your nightstand read 2:14 AM. It hadn’t changed in what felt like forever.
You listened.
The heater kicked on with a dull thump, pushing warm air through the vents. Somewhere down the hall, a pipe knocked once, then went still. Outside, the wind rattled bare branches against the house.
Underneath it all, that same feeling remained.
Cold.
Not in the room, but inside you. Like something had settled just behind your ribs, patient and unmoving. Your skin prickled, every hair standing on end.
You pulled the blanket higher, heart beginning to race.
You’re home, you told yourself. It was a power outage. You were tired. That’s all.
The thought felt thin. Fragile.
Your eyes drifted to the corner of the room, where the shadows gathered thickest near the closet door. It was closed. It had been closed when you went to bed.
You watched it anyway.
Seconds passed. Maybe minutes.
Nothing moved.
Just as your breathing began to slow, a sound broke the silence.
A soft creak.
Not the house settling. Not the wind.
Closer.
Your chest tightened painfully. You held your breath, listening hard enough it made your ears ring. The sound didn’t repeat, but the feeling intensified, that unmistakable awareness of not being alone.
Of being seen.
Slowly, against every instinct screaming at you not to, your eyes slid back to the dark corner.
For a heartbeat, you thought you saw—
Nothing.
Just shadow. You swallowed, forcing air back into your lungs, feeling foolish even as your pulse refused to calm.
You turned onto your other side, facing the wall, clutching the sweater tighter.
Behind you, the room stayed silent.
Too silent.
You never heard another sound, you didn’t sleep, not really. Not until the thin gray light of morning began to bleed through the curtains, chasing the shadows back into their corners.
Even then, the feeling lingered.
Like something had been there all night.
Watching.
Waiting.
-
The school bathroom smelled like cheap soap and industrial cleaner, the kind that never quite masked anything. The fluorescent light overhead flickered once, then steadied, casting everything in a sickly white glow.
You were halfway through washing your hands when the door swung shut behind you.
Gwen stepped in and locked the door behind her.
You turned slowly. “Gwen?”
She didn’t joke. Didn’t smirk. She leaned back against the door like she was bracing herself, fingers digging into the straps of her backpack.
“I need to ask you something,” she said.
Your shoulders tightened. “Okay…”
She hesitated, eyes flicking to the sinks, the stalls, anywhere but you. Then she pushed off the door and crossed her arms.
“It’s about Finney.”
That figured.
You dried your hands slowly, buying time. “What about him?”
Gwen exhaled through her nose, sharp and frustrated. “He’s not… moving forward.”
“What do you mean by not moving forward?"
“You know what I’m talking about. All the fights, and his anger. It’s impossible not to miss.”
Your stomach tightened. You kept your voice careful. “He’s working through it. He’s trying Gwen.”
She scoffed quietly. “Working through it doesn’t mean pretending nothing ever happened.”
“That’s not what he’s doing,” you said, sharper now. “He just—he deals with things differently.”
Gwen’s eyes narrowed, not angry, just intense. “Exactly. He doesn’t deal with them at all.”
You crossed your arms. “Okay. And what does that have to do with me?”
She hesitated. Just for a beat.
“There’s this place,” she said. “Alpine Lake Camp. They’re looking for CITs for a middle school winter camp.”
Your brows knit together. “A camp?”
“Yeah. My mom used to work there. Before.” Gwen swallowed. “Before everything.”
That landed heavier than you expected.
You shook your head slowly. “Gwen… no. I’m not—no.”
“I’m asking you to go, so you can help me get him to go,” she said quickly.
Your chest went tight. “Absolutely not.”
She blinked. “You didn’t even let me finish.”
“I don’t need to,” you said. “That’s not my place. Finney doesn’t need me pushing him into something he doesn’t want—especially not something tied to your mom. That feels… invasive.”
Gwen’s jaw clenched. “It’s not invasive. It’s closure.”
“You don’t get to decide what closure looks like for him.”
“And neither does he if he won’t even look at it,” she shot back.
You stared at her, incredulous. “You want me to convince my boyfriend to work somewhere he probably doesn't want to be, because you think it’ll fix him?”
“I think it’ll help him,” Gwen said, quieter now. “There’s a difference.”
You looked away, rubbing at your temple. “He trusts me, Gwen. I’m not going to use that to manipulate him.”
Her voice softened. “He listens to you.”
“That doesn’t mean I should.”
The bathroom fell quiet again. Gwen watched you for a long moment, then uncrossed her arms.
“He wakes up screaming sometimes,” she said suddenly.
You froze.
“He won’t talk about it. Not to me. Not to anyone, and every day he pretends he’s fine because that’s easier than admitting he’s still hurting.” Her voice wavered despite herself. “I’m his sister. I’m supposed to help him.”
You turned back to her, heart aching. “And I’m his girlfriend. I’m supposed to protect him.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she insisted. “That place mattered to our mom, and to truly heal he needs to address all his trauma. Not just the Grabber. Don’t you think he deserves the chance to feel close to that again instead of running from it forever?”
You swallowed hard.
“I don’t want to hurt him,” you said quietly.
“Neither do I.”
Silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable.
Finally, you sighed. “I won’t push him. I won’t guilt him. But… if it comes up, I won’t shut it down.”
Gwen’s shoulders dropped, relief flickering across her face. “That’s all I’m asking.”
You met her eyes, uneasy. “And if he says no?”
She hesitated. Just a little too long.
“Then at least we tried,” she said.
The bell rang down the hall, sharp and sudden.
You grabbed your bag, still unsettled. As you reached for the door, Gwen spoke again.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
You didn’t answer right away.
You weren’t sure yet whether this would help Finney, or if you had just opened a door that should’ve stayed closed.
-
Sunlight crept its way into the kitchen, illuminating the math homework spread across the table. Your notebook lay open, half-filled with numbers that hadn’t changed in ten minutes. Finney’s textbook sat a little too far from him, like it might bite if he leaned in too close.
You sat across from him, pencil tapping softly against the page. You weren’t really doing the problems. He knew it. He could tell by the way your eyes kept drifting to the clock on the wall, by the way your jaw tightened every time the second hand clicked forward.
He circled an answer and slid the notebook toward you. “You’re overthinking it.”
You blinked. “I’m not—”
Before he could start explaining, the kitchen door swung open.
Gwen walked in and placed a glossy brochure directly in the middle of the table.
The sound of paper hitting wood felt louder than it should’ve.
Finney’s eyes dropped to it immediately. His expression closed off just as fast. “What’s this?”
Gwen didn’t sit. She stayed standing, arms crossed. “Camp Alpine Lake. The camp Mom called from. We have to go there.”
The air shifted.
Your gaze flicked to Gwen, then back to the brochure. Your stomach twisted.
The camp Mom called from.
You stared at the paper like it might explain itself. Gwen hadn’t mentioned any of this in the bathroom. Their mom had died years ago, how had she called Gwen.
You swallowed, trying to piece it together. “Called from…?” you echoed, slow. Careful. “I thought—
“No.” He pushed the brochure back toward her without touching it. “Gwen stop this. It was just a dream.”
“About a real place,” Gwen shot back. “A place I found. It’s why I had the dream.”
Your stomach tightened.
She kept going, momentum building. “It’s a Christian youth camp near Silverthorne. They’re taking applications for CITs during a middle school winter camp.”
Finney frowned. “What’s a CIT?”
“Counselor in training.”
You opened your mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Finney.
“No,” he said flatly, pushing his chair back just enough for it to scrape against the floor. “I’m not going to be a counselor for junior highers at some weird Jesus camp you dreamed about.”
“No, you're going to be a counselor in training.” Gwen shot back.
“No I’m not.”
“Come on dad has been hounding you to get a job, a job that pays.” Gwen said quickly, before gesturing towards you. “She said she’d come, so you wouldn’t be totally alone. And we can find out what mom-”
“You knew about this?” Finney asked as he turned towards you, his sharp glare burning hokes into your eyes.
Your stomach dropped.
You hadn’t said anything, barely had time to think, but suddenly all of it was on you.
“What’s going on in here?” Mr. Blake’s voice cut through the room.
Finney didn’t hesitate. “Uh—Gwen wants us to get jobs at some Christian winter camp.”
“Camp Alpine,” Gwen corrected immediately.
Mr. Blake paused. He reached for the brochure, lifting it off the table and studying it with a frown that deepened the longer he looked. “Hm,” he murmured. “Your mother worked there.”
The room went very still.
“When?” Gwen asked.
Mr. Blake exhaled slowly. “Long before I met her.” He shook his head, almost to himself. “It closed in ’58.” His eyes flicked up. “How’d you hear about this place, anyway?”
“Um—I had a—”
“Kids at school said it was a good way to make money,” Finney cut in, too fast.
Mr. Blake gave him a look, then turned away, twisting open a bottle of ginger ale. “Christian camp,” he muttered. “You know how I feel about that stuff.”
“It’s just a job, Dad,” Gwen called after him as he headed out of the kitchen.
He shrugged without turning around.
The moment he was gone, Gwen rounded on Finney. “Mom worked there. I’m not making this up.”
“I never said you were,” Finney shot back. Then his gaze shifted, locking onto you. Sharper. Hurt threaded just beneath the surface.
“Can we talk,” he said tightly, “in private?”
His glare flicked to Gwen, unmistakable.
Suddenly, whatever this was, it wasn’t just about a camp anymore.
Taglist:
@sunndroppp @sleepyidiotnumerouno @rxeae @rainbowpr1sm @sweetybunnyy @becauseicans @gelaboo @me @ur-crusty-uncle @happy-simming
-told you so / miguel mora
Pairing: miguel mora x fem!reader
Warnings: none, just fluff :)
Words: 1.2k
-Miguel's hopes of ever getting into a relationship are getting smaller by the minute until ...
Love you guys, Magdi <3
The car hums softly as it cuts through the morning traffic, tinted windows blurring the city outside. Today is the first day of the press tour for Black Phone 2, and the two of them are on their way to do a shit ton of interviews. Miguel is slouched in the seat beside Mason, hoodie pulled over his head, leg bouncing restlessly.
Mason is mid-rant about his favourite Jaeger, Gypsy Danger.
“Dude, I swear to God, Striker Eureka wouldn’t even last two minutes against Gypsy Danger.”
“Of course it would,” Miguel argues. “It’s way more modern and built for close combat.”
“Yeah, but it’s nucl—hold on a second.” Mason pulls out his phone, and his entire expression changes instantly.
Miguel snorts. “Let me guess. McKenna.”
Mason doesn’t even deny it, already typing back, thumbs flying. “She sent me a picture of her coffee.”
Miguel groans dramatically and lets his head fall back against the seat. “I hate you.”
“You don’t,” Mason says easily. “You’re just bitter.”
“I am not bitter. I am single,” Miguel mutters. “Extremely. Painfully. Single.”
Mason finally looks up from his phone, smirking. “You say that like it’s a terminal illness.”
“It feels like one,” Miguel replies. “Everyone else is in love—or at least talking to someone. And I’m just… here. Existing. Alone.”
Mason raises an eyebrow. “Dude.”
“What?” Miguel turns to him. “Don’t hit me with the ‘it’ll happen when you least expect it’ speech. I’ve heard it. From you. From my mom. From literally everyone.”
Mason shrugs. “Still true.”
Miguel shoots him an annoyed look. “You all say the same shit.”
“Because it’s the same answer,” Mason says calmly. “The right girl will come. You just have to wait.”
Miguel scoffs, crossing his arms. “Yeah. Sure. Any day now.”
The car pulls up to the studio before Mason can respond, and the conversation dies there—just like Miguel’s hopes of ever getting into a relationship.
—
A little while later, Miguel and Mason are seated in a small interview room. The movie poster hangs behind them, soft lights aimed their way, and two chairs are angled slightly toward an empty one across from them.
Miguel drums his fingers against his knee. “Do we know who’s interviewing us?”
Mason shakes his head. “No idea. This magazine didn’t interview us for the first movie.”
Miguel hums noncommittally, already half-zoned out.
The door opens.
And then you walk in.
You’re holding a notebook a little too tightly, a pen tucked between your fingers. You look focused, professional—but there’s something nervous in the way you take a breath before speaking.
“Hi,” you say, smiling. “I’m Y/N. I’ll be interviewing you today.”
Miguel feels like you walk in in slow motion.
Like time freezes for just a moment.
Your soft features captivate him—the way loose strands of hair fall over your shoulders, how the subtle colour of your eyeshadow makes your eyes stand out even more.
Mason, meanwhile, looks highly amused, clearly entertained by how completely Miguel seems to short-circuit.
Miguel feels the smirk before he sees it.
“Nice to meet you,” Mason says easily.
Miguel blinks, catching up. “Yeah—hi. Pleasure to meet you.”
To his own surprise, he stands and reaches out to shake your hand. His brown eyes hold yours, his grip lingering just a second longer than necessary.
You briefly explain how the interview will work, ask if they’d like anything to drink, and introduce the rest of the film crew.
Miguel listens like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever heard, nodding along, eyes never leaving your face.
The interview begins—and it doesn’t feel like an interview at all.
Your questions are smart. Thoughtful.
You don’t ask the same recycled questions they’ve answered a hundred times already. Instead, you start a real conversation. You joke. You react. You’re their age, and it shows.
Miguel laughs more than he expects to.
At one point, he forgets there’s even a camera.
Mason leans back in his chair, relaxed, watching the way Miguel lights up every time you speak. Watching the way he keeps glancing at you when you’re not looking.
By the time you wrap up, the hour has flown by—and nobody really wants it to end. Especially not Miguel.
“Thank you so much,” you say, closing your notebook. “This was really fun.”
“Yeah,” Miguel says quickly. “It really was.”
You jot down a few more notes, asking the girl behind the camera for timestamps.
Miguel’s heart jumps for no reason. He wants to keep talking to you. Wants another excuse to look at your face.
“So,” he says, suddenly a little awkward, “how did you—uh—how did you end up doing interviews? You seem to be our age.”
You smile, surprised but amused. “Oh, I study communication science. My professor knows someone at this magazine, and I got the opportunity to do this today.”
Miguel nods like that’s vital information. “That’s… really interesting. Did you enjoy it?”
His genuine interest makes something flutter in your chest. You hadn’t expected to be the one answering questions.
“I did,” you admit. “It’s my first real interview. We usually only do mock ones at uni, so I was pretty nervous. But you two were really nice, and I felt very comfortable.”
Your cheeks flush slightly at the last part.
Mason, who’s been quiet for once, chimes in. “I have to admit, out of the twelve interviews we did today, this was my favourite. It didn’t feel like an interrogation. Right, Miguel?”
Miguel startles slightly—he’d been too busy getting lost in your eyes to fully follow the conversation. “Y—yeah. It was really nice. Are you from around here?”
You chuckle softly. “Wow. Normally I’m the one asking the questions.”
Miguel’s cheeks grow warmer as he scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry. It’s just… nice talking to you.”
You feel your own face heat up and smile at him. “It’s okay. I like talking to you too. I’m actually from Phoenix. I’m only here for a few days for this interview and to visit a couple of magazines.”
“Oh, really?” Mason jumps in. “Did you know Miguel’s from Phoenix too? What a coincidence.”
Miguel shoots him a glare, which Mason happily ignores.
You’re about to respond when someone from your team reminds you that it’s time to go—you still need to cut and send the interview tonight.
Reluctantly, you stand. Miguel and Mason follow, shaking your hand and saying goodbye.
Just as you’re about to leave, you stop, rummaging through your bag until you find a small piece of paper.
Miguel watches, confused, as you scribble something down. Then you step closer and hold it out to him.
“If you ever want to continue your little interview,” you say, voice slightly shy, “you should text me.”
Miguel stares at the paper.
Then at you.
“Oh,” he says. Brilliant.
You smile, give a small wave, and leave before he can say anything else.
The door closes.
Mason slowly turns toward him.
Miguel is still holding the paper. Still staring at it.
“‘I’ll never find the right girl, I’m going to be single forever,’” Mason mocks. “You know I hate to say I told you so.”
He points at Miguel, smirking. “But—I told you so.”
Miguel swallows. “…Shut up.”
But he’s smiling.
---
Do we want a part 2?
Let me know in the comments!
Guys my requests are wide open, so if you have any ideas that you would like me to write, feel free to request something,
You can request HERE
-maybe we should lock the door next time/ miguel mora
Warnings: a tiny bit suggestive
Words: 1k
-Miguels Mum walks in on a very inconvenient moment for the two of you
Love you guys, Magdi <3
The blue light of Miguel’s TV was the only thing illuminating his room that late at night, and even though the movie he’d put on had been playing for a while, neither of you was really paying attention to it.
You’d spent the entire day at his house. After Miguel finally came home from filming The Black Phone 2, the two of you wanted some proper time together, so he’d picked you up—and hadn’t let you out of his sight since.
You were tucked against his side in bed, legs tangled beneath the blanket, his arm wrapped loosely around you. Every now and then, he pressed a lazy kiss into your hair or against your temple, like he couldn’t quite help himself.
At some point, you shifted just enough to look up at him.
He looked down at you at the exact same time.
There was a quiet second where neither of you said anything—then he leaned in, slow and familiar, and connected his lips with yours. The kiss was shy at first, unhurried, the kind that felt like home. You smiled into it before kissing him back, your hand sliding up to rest against his chest.
The movie faded into background noise.
One kiss turned into another, a little deeper now, his hand brushing your waist as you scooted closer. You laughed softly when he nudged his nose against yours, still careful with it, and he smiled against your lips.
“Comfortable?” he murmured, his voice low and warm.
You smiled softly. “Very. I might never move again.”
“Good,” he whispered. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
You felt Miguel’s hands grab your hips as you climbed onto his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs. His grip tightened instinctively as your lips met again, your hands wandering up into his hair, fingers curling into the dark strands—earning a quiet, breathy groan from him.
His fingers slowly slipped beneath your shirt, your skin burning everywhere he touched. Whimpering, you pressed closer, and Miguel took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours.
One of your hands wandered downward, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt, pushing it up just enough to reveal part of his abs, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips.
“Y/N, wait—hey—” he laughed softly against your mouth. “That tickles.”
You pulled back just enough to grin at him. “You’re dramatic.”
“I am suffering,” he said, clutching his chest. “Truly.”
“Oh please, you have your girlfriend sitting in your lap.”
For a moment, you just looked at each other, breathing a little heavier, before you broke into giggles and deliberately tickled him again.
“Hey—stop,” he laughed, catching your wrists and pinning them gently behind your back. “Would you stop that,” he warned, still smiling, “or I swear I’ll stop kissing you.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Micky… we both know you’re lying.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Okay. Fair.”
With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off completely. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head.
“Thought that might distract you,” he murmured, eyes flicking knowingly to your expression. “Now come back here.”
You swallowed and leaned down again.
You were just kissing him again when—
“Oh Jesus!”
You froze.
Miguel froze.
You both turned your heads at the same time.
His bedroom door was wide open, and standing there was his mum, one hand on the doorframe, a grocery bag hanging from the other. Her eyes flicked over the scene: the tangled blankets, you on top of a half-naked Miguel, both of your faces unmistakably red.
Then she broke into a grin.
“Oh my God,” she laughed. “I knew I should’ve knocked.”
You sat up so fast you nearly fell off the bed if Miguel hadn’t caught you.
“I—hi—I’m so sorry,” you rushed out. “We didn’t hear you come in.”
Miguel groaned and flopped back onto the pillows. “Mum.”
“What?” she said, completely unbothered. “Relax. You’re both adults. I just didn’t expect to walk in on a rom-com sequel.”
You were pretty sure your face had reached a shade of red previously unknown to science.
“I swear,” you blurted out, mortified, “we were just watching a movie.”
She hummed skeptically, eyebrow raised. “Mm-hm. Must’ve been a very gripping plot.”
Miguel peeked at you from the bed, biting back a grin. “You’re kind of adorable when you panic.”
You shot him a look. “Do not.”
“This is your fault,” you added.
“My fault?” he repeated. “I didn’t open the door.”
His mum chuckled, shaking her head fondly. “I’ll leave you two to it. Try not to traumatize yourselves.”
As she turned to leave—still smiling to herself—she paused and looked back.
“And Miguel, baby,” she added sweetly, “put a shirt on. It’s winter. You don’t want to catch a cold do you now?”
“Mum,” he groaned.
She laughed and disappeared down the hallway.
You collapsed back onto the bed, covering your face with your hands as you laughed despite yourself.
“I’m never recovering from this,” you mumbled.
Miguel gently pulled your hands away, his grin softer now. “Hey. It’s okay.”
You peeked at him. “No, it’s not. I want to evaporate.”
“At least she likes you,” he said gently.
“That does not help.”
He kissed your forehead anyway. “For what it’s worth… I’d embarrass myself a hundred times if it meant you’d still be here with me.”
You sighed, then smiled despite yourself, tucking back against his side and burying your face in his shoulder.
“You’re lucky I like you.”
“I know,” he said quietly, holding you closer.
“Next time,” you muttered, muffled against him, “we lock the door.”
He laughed softly. “Deal.”
He tipped your chin up gently, studying your face. “Still… your cheeks are really red.”
“Shut uuuup,” you groaned—though you leaned into his touch anyway.
-----
Thank you so much for your kind feedback on my last fic, hope you enjoyed this one as much ❤️
- don't freak out / miguel mora
Warnings: none, a broken nose
Words: 1k
-Miguel calls you to pick him up from the ER after training
Hope you enjoy it !
Love you guys, Magdi <3
You’re hunched over your desk, highlighter in one hand and pen in the other, surrounded by notebooks and half-finished notes. You’ve been studying for hours now, and your eyes feel like they’re about to fall out of your skull.
You’re bored out of your mind, but as much as you’d love to give Miguel a quick call, you know you can’t. He has boxing training the entire afternoon, and you’re well aware of how important those hours are for him. It’s one of the only times he can completely turn his brain off—aside from the time he spends with you.
So when your phone suddenly starts vibrating with an incoming FaceTime call from Miguel, you’re genuinely surprised.
You pick up your phone and press accept, and the moment his face fills the screen, your eyes widen.
You’re greeted by your smiling boyfriend—his nose swollen and clearly crooked, dried blood streaked beneath it, two cotton balls stuffed into his nostrils.
“…Miguel,” you say, blinking.
“Okay,” he says quickly, holding the phone a little farther away, “don’t freak out.”
“Don’t freak out?! Miguel, have you seen your face in the past few minutes?”
“I broke my nose.”
You frown. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I can see that.”
“What on earth happened to you?” you ask, trying to inspect his face through the screen.
“Oh, you know,” he says matter-of-factly, “I decided normal boxing was boring, so I tried to spice it up by using my face.”
That makes you giggle. “And would you say it was successful?”
“Yeah, no. Definitely. You should try it sometime,” he replies dryly. “I’m in the ER right now. Great interior design, by the way.”
“Aww, my poor baby,” you coo, giggling as he pouts at you, his puppy-dog eyes on full display. “Someone disfigured your cute face.”
“Yeah… about that,” he admits sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “It wasn’t exactly someone.”
You frown. “What do you mean?”
“He hit himself in the face with the punching bag,” his trainer says from somewhere beside him.
You burst out laughing.
“Yeah, yeah,” Miguel deadpans, “is everyone done using my suffering as their personal form of entertainment?”
That only makes you laugh harder.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say, trying to calm down. “Can I do anything to make your suffering better?”
“Well,” he says, “since you’re already asking so nicely…”
He hesitates for a moment before continuing. “So… my mum’s still at work, my trainer drove me here, and my car is… somewhere. Could you maybe pick me up?”
He puts on his best puppy expression, and honestly, you never stood a chance. Besides, picking up your injured boyfriend from the ER is a pretty solid excuse to stop studying.
“Of course I’ll pick up my poor, wounded baby,” you reply, not missing the chance to mock him one last time.
He tries to frown, but with the cotton stuffed up his nose, it really doesn’t work.
Giggling at his expression, you hang up and rush downstairs to grab your car keys.
When you arrive at the ER, you spot Miguel immediately. He’s sitting in one of the chairs near the exit, paperwork in his hands, his nose taped and still very obviously broken. The swelling has gone down just enough to make the crookedness more noticeable, and he looks exhausted in that quiet, worn-out way that makes your chest ache a little.
He looks up and smiles when he sees you. “Hey.”
“Hi, baby,” you say softly. “Ready to head home?”
You help him up, sliding an arm around his back as you guide him outside. He leans into you more than usual, his steps careful, his head slightly bowed.
In the car, you buckle him in before settling into the driver’s seat yourself. You start the engine… then pause.
You turn to look at him.
He’s slumped back against the seat, eyes slightly glassy, nose bruised and crooked, looking far more fragile than he’d ever want to admit.
“Aww,” you say softly, unable to help yourself. “Your pretty face.”
“Don’t,” he groans.
You lean closer, cooing exaggeratedly. “My poor baby. All beat up.”
“This is bullying,” he mutters.
You grin. “It’s affection. With a hint of mockery.”
He glances at you, lips twitching. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Just a little,” you admit, reaching over to squeeze his thigh. “You FaceTimed me like a jump scare.”
He laughs carefully, mindful of his nose. “Fair.”
You pull out of the parking lot and start driving toward his place. The first few minutes pass in comfortable silence. Then you notice him shifting, curling slightly inward, shoulders rounding as he presses his head back against the seat.
The joking fades.
You glance over at him. “Hey. Is the pain starting to catch up?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “My head’s… not great.”
You nod, already planning. “We’re almost home.”
By the time you pull into the driveway, he’s noticeably quieter, his movements slow and careful. Inside, you guide him straight to the couch.
“Sit,” you say gently.
He does, without arguing.
You grab an ice pack from the freezer, wrap it in a towel, and carefully press it to his nose. Then you hand him his painkillers and a glass of water, like you’ve done this a hundred times before.
“Thanks,” he says softly.
You sit down beside him, and he immediately shifts closer, hesitating for a second before asking, “Can I…?”
“Come here,” you say, already opening your arms.
He carefully climbs onto you, settling against your chest, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You slide one hand into his hair, combing through it slowly, scratching his scalp in the way you know calms him the fastest.
His body relaxes almost instantly.
“Better?” you whisper.
“Mm,” he hums. “Don’t move.”
You smile and keep going, fingers moving in slow, steady patterns as his breathing evens out and his weight relaxes against you, drifting closer and closer to sleep.
-----
This was my first fanfic for Miguel Mora, please tell me in the comments if you liked it, and if you have any ideas for more stories about him !
Ok so let’s try this again
I made another post where you can vote if you want me to write for Miguel Mora and Mason Thames but Tumblr shadow banned me and it doesn’t show under the tags *sigh*
Should I write for them
Yes please !
No please don’t
Belonging | KA12
Pairing: Kimi Antonelli x Leclerc!Reader
Summary: When your family doesn't feel like one anymore, your only solution is to escape. Eventually, you end up finding solace in a new one thanks to the cute Italian driver that you're forced to tutor. And when insecurities creep back in, he's the one who's there to help you face the world.
Author's Note: tysm @seokroxie for the request and for being so patient w me🎀 my first time writing for kimi hehe!! I didn't expect this one to be that long oops but i got really invested in expanding on the relationship w kimi (he's a pookie i love him sm) so i hope this is to your liking🤭 ALSO I'm not one to usually write triggering stuff but i still wanna warn y'all bc the fic mentions death & race crashes - please beware just in case<3
F1 MASTERLIST🏎
When you met Kimi, you had no idea who he was. But most of all, you had no idea how important he would end up being to you.
But before all that, there was your first day in Italy which felt as scary as exciting. First, you were alone at the Bologna airport. Then, you were still alone in the streets of Bologna. But eventually, you were not alone anymore when you reached what would hopefully become your new home. Even if you’d had one not that long ago, it had soon turned into a house where you didn’t feel welcome anymore. So you had made a choice, and left Monaco for Italy.
You left what was once your family – the people for whom you would have done anything, until anything was at the expense of your own happiness and well-being. You had turned the narrative to your advantage: what was for you an escape, was to your family a dream. The worst thing about it, though, was that they didn’t even argue about you going alone to another country. They didn’t even realise that a fourteen year-old child shouldn’t have to do all this just to seek a semblance of joy.
They let you go without fighting for you to stay, without arguing about the fact that you could stay in Monaco for your high school years, without caring. Your mum paid for the school and for your flight – one-way, no return. You hadn’t expected it, but she and your brothers sent you money for you to last until you would finish high school – you would be well off for years without even having to worry about eventually getting a job. And maybe, it just meant that they were all ready to never have to take care of you ever again.
So you left, in silence. No big party to send you off. No “I’ll miss you”. No “come back to visit during the holidays”. No “I love you”. Just a half-arsed “have fun” as you were getting dropped off at the Nice airport. You didn’t even have time to look back that the car was already driving away.
“Well… bye, I guess…” you muttered to yourself.
At least they had dropped you off as a family, and you had been able to spend one last moment with the people you thought you would have loved for the rest of your life.
Navigating through the airport, you didn’t feel at peace until you were getting on the plane. And your heart kept feeling lighter as you were rising into the sky. You admired the clouds beneath you, and your eyes lit up as soon as you began to fly over Italy. Before you arrived in Milan – a mandatory stop because there were of course no direct flights to Bologna, you realised that there was one thing you had to do before stepping foot in Italy and starting this new chapter of your life – although it felt more like starting a new life as a whole.
You took out your phone and opened your contacts. You tapped on the family❤️ tab and observed the names figuring there:
Arthur Charles Lorenzo Papa Pascale
Your mum hadn’t been saved under her nickname in so long already, and even her own name felt foreign to you now. Only your father felt deserving of staying in this list. So not only did you remove the four other contacts from the tab, but you also fully deleted them from your phone. Would you even need their numbers in the future? You didn’t think so.
You hadn't expected such a simple action to affect you so much, but it surprisingly felt freeing. It was as if you had removed the heaviest weight ever from your shoulders. And so when you left the plane to enter the Milan airport where you would be waiting for your connecting flight to Bologna, it was like you had broken free from the shackles that had been trapping you for years.
You were in another country, far from everything and everyone that had ever tied you down.
Your layover didn’t last long – just enough for you to enjoy a nice meal that had definitely been prepared with more care and love than your mother ever did. As you boarded your second plane, you started thinking about all the opportunities you would get in Bologna. You couldn’t wait to visit the surroundings, to explore new hobbies, to discover what was in store for you there.
You just couldn’t wait to finally live your own life. One that would be starring you as the main character, without you spending the entire time in the background of everyone else’s lives.
While Arthur had been forced to sacrifice his racing career for Charles, you had been forced to sacrifice everything from an even younger age. But as you approached what would be your house for the next five years, you let out a sigh of relief. You were finally doing something for yourself. And for what felt like the first time of your life, you were happy.
You barely had to wait two seconds after ringing the doorbell, that someone was already opening the door.
“Hi sweetie!” It was your landlady – a relative of one of the few friends you had left behind and probably the kindest person you had ever talked to when you had first facetimed her a few months ago. “Come on in”, she told you before immediately reaching for your suitcase. “Sorry I couldn’t get you from the airport; work has been hectic today and I still have two online meetings before I’m finally off.”
“It’s okay, no worries! Thanks again for having me here, I’m really grateful for you hosting me.”
“As if I would’ve let such a young girl like you live alone!” She motioned for you to follow her upstairs, while she showed you around the house. “Your bedroom will be the one at the end of the corridor. You have your bathroom attached, like an en-suite, so you can have your own space. Feel free to settle in, and I’ll be back in” – she checked her watch, looking at the time – “an hour and a half. Is that alright?”
“It’s perfect, thank you so much.” You were really nervous with how well you were being treated barely five minutes after meeting the woman, and it was slightly overwhelming. You were glad to have a chance to be alone for a bit, and you couldn’t help but admire your room once your landlady left you.
There was a king-sized bed in the centre of the room, with a nightstand on its right and some shelves on its left. You walked towards the desk, noticing the notebooks that were on it. Your hand grazed the sticky note at the top of the stack as you read its content: so that you’re ready for school!
Your first day of high school wouldn’t even be for another two weeks, but you were already excited for it. You would be attending the ITCS Gaetano Salvemini, as part of the IT track, for the next five years. You hoped that you would easily make friends, despite being a foreigner. Regarding that, there was one thing you could thank Charles for: making you learn Italian and fall in love with the language. Therefore, you were impatient to keep practicing it as you would now be fully immersed in Italian culture.
As you kept thinking about the prospects of your new life in Italy, you started unpacking your suitcase before you decided to take a well-deserved shower. Then, true to her words, your landlady – although she would now be better qualified as your host mother – knocked on your door after she was done with work. She invited you to have dinner with her, offering you to cook together while you would get to know each other. You immediately accepted, and slowly but surely warmed up to the kindness she was showing you.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
Looking back on it, your first day in Italy was probably one of the best days of your life. You remembered crying that night. And not because you were missing Monaco, or your family. But because you had felt more loved and cherished in one single day, than you had ever been in years.
You often thought of how your brothers were doing, but not in a “I wished I could see them again” way. It was more like in a “I’m glad I finally left” kind of way. You also didn’t have much of a choice to think of Charles, mostly, given that you were living in Ferrari’s homeland. However, you felt lucky that your host mother didn’t have any interest in F1 – she actually liked to complain about some neighbours celebrating way too hard any pole position or podium from the Italian team.
Safe to say, you were free from the racing world for the entirety of your first year in Italy. But obviously, things couldn’t stay as they were: you just had to meet a driver during your second year of high school.
When you met Kimi, you had no idea who he was. But most of all, you had no idea how important he would end up being to you.
Right now, Andrea Kimi Antonelli was just a name your English teacher had given you after your first class.
“He’s actually quite good in English”, she had told you. “But he’s not learning the proper one.”
That was all she had said, before requesting that you tutor him. You honestly had no idea what she meant by not learning the proper one and had to admit that you were curious about what kind of English this guy spoke. So now, you were supposed to find him wherever he currently was in the school.
You thought that this would be a never-ending quest. You had his name at least, but you didn’t know what he looked like at all. So when you joined your friends for lunch, you asked them for more information on him.
“You don’t know him?” One of your friends was surprised by your question. “Where the hell have you been living?”
“Sorry for not mingling with half the school”, you replied. “I don’t need to know everyone when I got a good enough circle.”
“She’s right,” your other friend backed you up. “I’m pretty sure that I have never seen, nor spoken to at least ninety percent of the school.”
“Well, Kimi’s been quite the topic recently.” The fourth of your group quickly typed on her phone before she turned the screen towards you, showing you what Kimi looked like. “He’s joining the Italian F4 Championship, and he has won the…” She tried to remember what she had read about him. “The European Championship! Like– twice in a row. People say he’s got real talent and that he has a future paved to F1 already.”
F1? Really? You thought with an internal groan. Why couldn’t you escape it?
“Okay, cool.” You did your best to look neutral, not wanting to dwell on the fact that you had to tutor a driver. “He might be some hot-shot there, but I don’t care as long as he puts in the effort with me. I don’t wanna study with someone who barely tries at school.”
“Well… you won’t like what I’m about to show you, then.” She once again turned her phone screen towards you, as it displayed a calendar.
“What the–” You reread the dates several times, before letting out a sigh. “How am I meant to help this kid if he’s out there racing? It’s crazy that he was in a whole other country literally a day before classes began.”
“I mean, he races during weekends. That’s why they’re called race weekends,” she explained.
Oh, I know! You almost said. You knew way too much about stupid grands prix, and race weekends, and never having your family there for you during those events.
“Still, he seems like the type of guy who’ll focus more on racing than on school.”
“I’m sure you’ll get along,” she reassured you. “But you just need to be a good teacher, easy enough. And if he really doesn’t make much effort, then your professor will find him another tutor.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Where the hell do I find him, now?” Liking to be organised, you wanted to meet this Kimi guy soon to plan a rough schedule.
“Maybe start by following him on Instagram?” She suggested. “It might be easier than asking everyone about his whereabouts. I gotta admit that even I never talked to him, but I’m pretty sure I have a friend in his class. I could ask her, if you want?”
“I’ll be alright, don’t worry.” Pulling out your phone, you decided that you would immediately look for Kimi on social media. However, you noticed that your English teacher had actually sent you an email about it. “Oh! Problem solved, actually.”
Reading out loud the contents of the email to your friends, you discovered that your professor had already planned things by herself. She was telling you, and Kimi, to meet once to twice a week at times that would suit you both. However, she was asking the two of you to meet as soon as today after school. She wanted you to start helping Kimi as soon as possible, especially before he would start being absent on weekends next month.
“Has she given you his contact or something?” One of your friends looked over your shoulder, wanting to see for herself.
“She just put a room number and a time, but only for today. Then, it’s as she wrote: we figure out days and hours by ourselves. I guess she deems it fine to work it out together”, you said.
“Well, good luck. Do you want us to wait for you after school?”
“I’ll be fine, thanks.” Not knowing how long this first meeting would take, you didn’t want your friends to waste their time for God knows how long. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow during lunch, yeah?”
Your friends all nodded in agreement, excited at the prospect of you meeting a boy. They wouldn’t say it out loud – not with you there, at least – but they felt like a boyfriend boy friend might benefit you. You were always a hopeless romantic, and maybe Kimi would be a good fit for you.
You would only know whether that was true or not later today. For now, you finished your lunch before it was time to go back to class.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
Thankfully, the first day – and week – of class was always calm. Nothing relevant was actually being studied, and it was just introductions of the things you would see later during the year. Therefore, it wasn’t so annoying to have to stay behind to meet this Kimi guy.
When the bell rang, you started making your way towards the room your teacher had mentioned. You would be early by half an hour, but it wouldn’t hurt to be alone for a bit. Obviously, there was no one yet when you arrived and you decided to use the time to think of some questions to ask Kimi as you sat cross-legged on a table.
What were his grades last year? How often did he practice English? Did he have issues with grammar? Or vocabulary, maybe? Was his understanding better than his speaking? Or the other way around?
Even if it would be your first time tutoring someone in English, you had experience with other subjects. You remembered helping a couple girls back in middle school with mathematics and physics, which had gone quite alright based on your memories. They obviously hadn’t become straight-A students overnight, but they had managed to improve over the term you had tutored them because they had worked for it. And you really hoped that the same would happen with Kimi. You didn’t do miracles, and you were more than ready to make him understand that.
The half-hour passed by pretty quickly, and there was soon enough someone joining you.
Andrea Kimi Antonelli.
He looked exactly like the picture your friend had shown you: messy brown hair, and matching puppy-dog eyes that scanned the room before falling on you. A bright smile made its way on his face, and you wondered how he already seemed so friendly when you two hadn’t exchanged a word yet.
He walked up to you, extending his hand as he stopped in front of the table where you were sitting:
“Hi, I’m Kimi.”
You told him your name, then shook his hand.
“English tutoring, hmm?” He scratched his neck, almost embarrassed. “Guess I don’t speak as good as I thought.”
“The teacher didn’t say that you were bad, though. But I understood that maybe it wasn’t close enough to the one we’re supposed to learn at school.”
“Ah, yes! She once told me last year that I knew too much slang, and wasn’t like– polite?”
“How so?” Propping your elbow on your knee, you rested your chin on your palm. “Do you speak in a familiar way?”
“Maybe?” It sounded more like a question, as Kimi felt insecure about you judging him.
“You don’t seem sure”, you commented.
“Okay”, he admitted with a sigh. “Definitely.”
“Do people speak good English at your races?”
“You know that I race?” Suddenly, Kimi’s eyes lit up at the mention of his passion.
Oh crap, you thought. Would he now imagine that you had stalked him beforehand? You hadn’t even done so, it had been your friend! Cutting your overthinking short, Kimi then started rambling:
“Honestly, I never met someone with a super bad English. But we’re all young there – the drivers, I mean – and the adults are friendly. So there isn’t much manners, you know? Of course, we’re all respectful towards each other! But it’s not as formal as school, so no one really cares whether we’re speaking with the right grammar or things like that.”
You hadn’t been expecting this, but it seemed like Kimi was a yapper. You didn’t mind, though. Simply nodding from time to time, you kept listening carefully as he continued to rant.
“Even during interviews,” he added. “As long as we can be understood, then it doesn’t really matter. Plus, English is not the first language for most of us. But I get what the issue is when I come back to school and all I know is how to speak in an informal way. I tend to shorten words even when we’re not supposed to during writing, and I don’t know the appropriate vocabulary as well. I can tell you all about tyre strategy–”
Please don’t, you silently begged.
“–but I can’t for the life of me do formal presentations or write essays or analyse literary texts. So, yeah…” Kimi nervously chuckled, as he realised he hadn’t given you one chance to say something. “Sorry, I talk a lot. I hope everything made sense?”
“It did, no worries. It’s nice that you’re aware of your difficulties. We’re not starting from scratch, at least. Were your grades bad last year?” It was honestly the only question that Kimi hadn’t answered already, and his reply would be enough for you to conclude on how to approach this tutoring.
“I wasn’t failing, if that’s what you ask!”
“I didn’t say that, but were you close to?”
“Well… I had a couple marks below average, yeah… But the other eighty percent was honestly decent. So, I managed.”
“Okay, it’s not that bad.”
“So you’re fine with helping me, right?”
Kimi’s eyes already made him look like a soft puppy – kind of like a golden retriever begging for affection – but his current expression was a step above that if it was even possible. You almost thought that he could cry if you refused to tutor him, but you weren’t planning on doing so.
“Yeah, we’re good.” Immediately thinking about your beloved organisation, you quickly got down to business. “When are you free? We could honestly start next week, given that we’re not doing much during the first one. Is there any time that never works for you? I’m personally flexible, and will move things around if needed.”
“Wow, chill. Can we not just do this thing whenever I need help? Like before an exam or when I’m struggling with homework,” he suggested.
“Nope. This gotta be somewhat regular,” you explained. “I don’t want you to cram at the very last minute, so we need to do this thing weekly. I can offer you an hour and a half once a week, or an hour twice a week. Your choice”, you told him.
“Hmm… an hour and a half is a long time,” he muttered. “But twice a week is a lot. It’s less time per session, but it’s actually more per week. What to choose…?”
You didn’t know whether Kimi cared about you hearing his dilemma, but you hoped that he would come to a decision quickly enough. You watched the gears turn in his head for another minute, before he eventually made a choice.
“The weekly hour and a half is fine!”
“Cool, any particular day?”
“Not the weekends, obviously. Not Monday either… nor Friday, of course…”
Oh God, you internally sighed. Kimi looked like he was back in another life-or-death situation, even though it was definitely not one actually worth fussing over. You decided to take matters into your own hands and choose yourself:
“Wednesday, half four to six. Here. Done.”
Kimi stopped his monologue, and blinked at the sudden sharpness in your voice.
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “That works,” he confirmed before immediately pulling out his phone to write it down.
You did the same, creating a weekly event that would simply be named AKA tutoring. Not thinking that there was anything else for the two of you to discuss, you stood up from the table and dusted your clothes off as you were ready to leave. However, you were prevented from doing so as Kimi held his phone towards you. You silently asked him what he needed, glancing between him and his phone.
“Your number? So that we can keep in touch, in case of having to reschedule or something.”
“You already plan on ditching me?” Taking Kimi’s phone into your hands, you typed your number before texting yourself.
“What? No!” He denied. “In case one of us is sick, or has a last-minute emergency.”
“I was kidding, Kimi.” You gave him his phone back, before grabbing your bag and walking away. “School talk only. Wednesday twenty-second, half four. Don’t be late. Bye.”
“Bye!” He waved at you, although it was to your back. Kimi glanced down at his phone, happy to have made a new friend.
Unbeknownst to you, Kimi was already imagining this tutoring to be a friendly study session. He was excited at the prospect of getting to know you, ready to prepare some icebreakers for your next meeting.
You, however, were dead set on not getting involved with Kimi outside of school matters. You didn’t want to have anything whatsoever to do with racing, and you really hoped as well as thought that he had understood your wish to keep it to the classmates stage.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
You had thought wrong. And you came to realise it over the course of three different events.
Event number one: your first lesson with Kimi.
You weren’t late. You were right on time, which meant two minutes early. You hadn’t expected Kimi to arrive before you, and yet here he was. This was positive. You liked punctuality and rigour. You were already thinking that you might have been too narrow-minded about him, and were now expecting the two of you to have a nice tutor-tutoree relationship.
Until you saw the snacks. And not like a bag of crisps or anything irrelevant like that. No, this was clearly over the top. And Kimi didn’t seem to have any issue with it.
“Hi!” He excitedly said once he noticed you enter the room. “How are you? How were your classes?”
“I’m fine. School’s good too. What’s all that?” You immediately asked, pointing at the five bags of candies on the table.
“Snacks”, he replied as if it was obvious. “Didn’t know what you liked so I brought diversity.”
“We don’t need snacks, Kimi. We're here to study, not to have a collation.”
“But I always have snacks around when I study with friends”, he explained with a pout.
“Slight difference; we’re not friends.”
“Yet”, Kimi said as if he had made it his life goal to reach this status.
Dismissing the whole thing, you quickly took out your notes from today. It really helped that you and Kimi had the same English teacher, because it meant that you two had the same homework. And speaking of, you both had a picture and text analysis to do for next week.
“Did you have time to take a look at it?”
“Not yet,” Kimi admitted. He pulled out the paper, starting to read the details of the homework. While doing so, he took the moment as his chance to get to know you. “What’s your favourite colour?”
You looked up from your own paper. Really? You silently wondered. We’re doing this?
“Focus on the task,” you simply told him. “We’re not here to play twenty-one questions.”
“Come on”, he whined. “I’m asking you in English, you can’t say I’m not willing to practice: What’s your favourite colour?”
“I like blue”, you answered. “Now focus.”
Yeah, Kimi was definitely focused. But not on the homework.
“You have any hobby?”
“Do you have any hobbies”, you corrected.
“I asked first, though.”
“I’m not asking you, Kimi. I’m pointing out the correct grammar”, you explained. “I don’t care about your hobbies.”
“Okay, rude.” Nevertheless, he repeated his question. “Do you have any hobbies?”
“Reading.”
“Cool, what type of books do you read?”
“Crime novels, fantasy, stuff with suspense.”
“Do you read romance? Girls like that, no?”
“You add right at the end of a question. Or do they also work in this case.”
“Do you read romance?” He asked again. “Girls like that, right?”
“I do. Read, and like it. Still prefer what I said first.”
Kimi nodded at the information, happy to slowly but surely learn some things about you.
You thought that would be it, that he had been satisfied with a couple questions. But oh boy, were you wrong. Because before you knew it, Kimi had successfully managed to spend almost an hour asking you random questions about yourself.
He learnt that you had been speaking both Italian and English for years. He was shocked when you told him that you also spoke French, and he didn’t waste any time expressing his envy. He learnt that you were on the IT track, and that you were actually close to what people would call a science genius.
“You’re good at everything, it’s not fair.”
“English, Kimi. I’m now making it mandatory for you to forget Italian during our lessons.”
“You’re good at everything, it’s… unjust?”
“Yeah”, you confirmed. “Unfair also works.”
After another ten minutes of Kimi interrogating you, it felt too much. You politely but sternly refrained him from asking anything else, unless it was about the English homework. Kimi obliged, and he finally put his focus on the task given by the teacher.
The rest of the lesson was fine, and Kimi didn’t bother you with any more personal questions. He eventually got his best mark ever in English the next week, and your professor had only been able to express her gratitude for you already helping Kimi so much.
Then came event number two: your first full non-school related conversation.
A month and a half after your first lesson with him, Kimi was back on track for the seventh – officially his third – and last round of the 2021 Italian F4 championship. He had gotten a podium for each of the three races at Monza, and had won all those races in the rookie category. Safe to say, he was over the moon at his performance.
And surprisingly, there was one person he wanted to tell about his achievements.
You picked up during the second ring, after having wondered if it was worth it.
“I hope this is about school, Kimi. But if it’s about a last-minute thing, then count me out.”
“It’s not about school,” he muttered. “But please, don’t hang up!”
Bringing the phone back to your ear after his request, you waited for him to talk. But you were met with silence for the next thirty seconds.
“Either you say whatever you wanna say, or this time I definitely hang up.”
“Okay, wait! I– I got podiums today, two of them! And one yesterday, too. I almost won the first race, but there’s this guy – Ollie – who’s crazy fast! And he won all three races this weekend, can you imagine? I wasn’t here for the first half, but I know he won like seven races in a row. This guy’s insane! Have you heard of him?”
“No, Kimi. I don’t follow racing…” anymore, you internally added. “But good for you, I guess.” Not thinking twice, you were unconsciously invested in knowing more about Kimi’s races. “Did you have fun?”
“I did, yeah! A lot!” He had a bright smile on his face – not that you could see it, although you could practically hear it – and was happy that the conversation wasn’t as one-sided as usual. “It was super cool to drive on home soil, although I don’t understand why the Italian championship makes us race in Austria. But it was a great experience, and I can't wait for what’s next! What about you, how was your weekend?”
“Less exciting than you, that’s for sure. Did my maths homework, finished a book, went out to buy a new book. Nothing really thrilling”, you said.
“What’s the book about?” Kimi asked, genuinely interested. “The one you finished.”
“It’ll bore you to death”, you told him.
“Try me,” he simply challenged.
And so you started explaining the plot. You talked about your own theories – which had all come to be wrong. Kimi laughed at that, before he teased you about being thankful that your English was better than your crime solving.
The conversation was everything you had expected from Kimi – invasive questions, long rants, a cheerful tone that never faltered – and everything you hadn’t expected from yourself – playful comments, smiles that lingered on for a bit too long, a feeling of belonging somewhere.
This time, it had been your turn to learn more about Kimi than he did about you. He told you about how he started karting at seven. He spoke of his younger sister, Maggie. He talked highly about his racing idols – thankfully there was no mention of your brother.
You hadn’t even noticed how long the conversation ended up being, until you had turned on your side and saw your clock showing that it was already one in the morning. The two of you had been on call for almost two hours, and you didn’t waste any time mentioning it to Kimi. He apologised for taking up your time, and thanked you for having answered.
“Can I ask one last thing?”
“Sure, then it’s good night.”
“Are we friends now?”
The question hit you by surprise, and it took you a bit to think about it. However, your silence was not a good sign to Kimi as he immediately got insecure.
“Sorry, it was a dumb thing to ask. Forget abo–”
“We’re acquaintances.”
“Oh!” Kimi was now at a loss for words. Not wanting to appear overly excited, he tried to play it cool – even though he would definitely be cheering alone in his room after hanging up. “Cool! That’s great, yeah. That’s enough for now. Well, good night!”
“Good night, Kimi.”
You then hung up, before replaying everything you had learnt about Kimi tonight. Had you met him last year when you first set foot in Italy, you would have hated the guy. A loving family? A racing career that would eventually lead to F1? Yeah, he wasn’t fitting your criteria for the type of people you had wanted to be around. But since you started studying with him every week, you could now reluctantly admit that he wasn’t that bad.
Still, you weren’t planning on even reaching the friends status with him.
But that was until event number three: your first time watching Kimi race.
You didn’t know why the hell you were there, at the Misano World Circuit, while Kimi was getting ready for the first race of the weekend. But you were there, and you actually knew exactly why.
Three weeks ago, Kimi had come to find you. After studying with him for almost eight months, it wasn’t unusual for him to talk to you in between lessons if the two of you stumbled upon each other at school. However, it was his request that had been unusual.
“I need you to come with me to my next two races,” he begged. “Life or death situation, I swear.”
“Don’t swear, Kimi. Just tell me what’s going on. The answer’s already no, though, but humour me.”
“You don’t get it! I’m gonna fail the final project,” he claimed.
“The English presentation? Kimi, you still have three weeks to work on it. There’s time,” you reassured him. You truly didn’t understand why he was so distressed about it.
“It’s half of the grade, though. And… hmm… I might be failing already…” he whispered, ashamed.
“I’m sorry, what?” Did you hear that well? You didn’t think so. “You can’t be failing English, Kimi. I'm tutoring you”, you said as if it was the most obvious thing ever.
“Well… remember the homework for last week…?” Kimi was getting more and more nervous with each word uttered, and he was not ready for your reaction. “So, you can’t be mad! But I never handed it in,” he quickly told you.
“Repeat that.”
“I– I never handed in the homework… And it would’ve been fine…”
“Except for?”
“Except for the fact that my reason for not doing so was because I was racing…” Kimi looked away, scared of your next words. “Which is like the excuse I’m forbidden to give to the teachers, especially when it’s last-minute.”
“Kimi, can you remind me what you said at the beginning of the second term.”
“I asked to study every other week, because I felt like I was doing better.”
“And I accepted, right?”
“Yeah…”
“Then, what did you say before Easter break?”
“I asked to study every three weeks, because there were less than two months left and I thought I would be alright.”
“And were you?”
“No…”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m not mad, just disappointed that you didn’t trust me.”
“I didn’t not trust you!” He argued. “But there was Spa, and then the teacher gave the homework. Then next, bam I was at Imola.”
“You mean literally yesterday?”
“Yeah, but anyway. I was just focusing on being at my home race, you know. And there was qualifying on Friday–”
“When you should have at least sent the homework by email despite not personally giving it to her.” You let out a sigh, not caring anymore about Kimi’s lack of organisation. “I didn’t ask you whether you had done it, because I figured that you were a big boy who could manage. But this just proved me otherwise.”
“I’m sorry…” Kimi’s head hung low with shame. “Do you– can you still come to my races, please? We can go back to studying every Wednesday from now on, and also between races. I can’t afford to miss my last opportunity to pass.”
“The answer’s still the same as five minutes ago, Kimi. I’m not going to a race, especially not to witness your poor time management. Every Wednesday’s fine for the last weeks of school, but I’m not doing overtime.”
“Please?” Kimi didn’t know what else to do except plead for your mercy. “I’ll do anything, please. Name it, whatever. But I need you to help me catch up.”
It should’ve been easy to say no to Kimi. Back at the beginning of the school year, you wouldn’t have had any regret doing so. So why now, were you having such a hard time refusing his request again? You and Kimi didn’t break eye contact for what felt like an eternity, while you gauged the situation.
“If you can prove to me that you can actually study during your race in Germany this weekend, I’ll come to the other one.”
“Really?” Kimi looked like a kid on Christmas Day, as he eyes lit up at your words.
“Yeah”, you confirmed with a nod. “Find the topic of your presentation and do every research needed during the week. If you can come on Wednesday next week with a thought-out outline and show me your motivation for the following two weeks, then I’ll come to your early-June race.”
“Oh my God! Thank you so much!” Kimi exclaimed with joy. He didn’t think twice before acting, and immediately hugged you. If he noticed, he didn’t care about you not reciprocating the hug. When he pulled away, he had the brightest smile ever on his face. “You won’t regret it, I promise! I’ll show you that I can be the best student ever, and win all my races at the same time!”
“Easy, tiger.” You sighed, thinking about what you had gotten yourself into. “Don’t overwork yourself. Just learn how to better balance school and racing, that’s all. You still have another three years after, and you can’t finish this one on a bad note.”
“I’ll do anything to repay you, I promise.”
“You can repay me by being studious. I’m not asking for more.”
“I promise I’ll do my best!” Kimi was still harbouring a large grin, and his joy was obvious to everyone who walked past him.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with my econ professor. I’ll see you later, yeah?” Waving at Kimi, you didn’t wait for an answer before leaving him and making your way to the teachers’ lounge.
“I’ll walk you there!” Kimi offered, quickly catching up to you.
The two of you walked there in silence, which you deeply appreciated. Until Kimi realised something right when you reached your destination.
“Back there, you remembered my races!”
“What?”
“You remembered which race was when,” he clarified. “Like the fact that I was at Imola yesterday, and that I’m going to Germany this weekend. That’s something a friend would do”, he teased.
“Or maybe I’m forced to know those things because you sent me your three race calendars months ago,” you replied with a blank face. “And also maybe because you send me a picture of the track as soon as you set foot there.”
“Still! You remember it”, he argued.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Kimi.” Knocking on the teachers’ lounge’s door, you waited for your professor to come open the door. When she did before motioning for you to come inside – not even registering that Kimi was next to you, you immediately obliged and didn’t even say goodbye to Kimi.
You still weren’t friends with Kimi, according to you. It would just be a way to help him out, that was all. But to Kimi, you were already there and his new goal would soon be achieved: seeing you outside of school even if it would still be related to his studies.
Therefore, that’s why you had eventually come with Kimi to the second round of the 2022 Italian F4 championship. It felt weird to be back at a race, years after last attending one of Charles’s. But it wasn't as bad as you had expected due to this one being for a lower category, because it meant that it wasn’t extremely packed.
True to his words, Kimi had been fully focused on his presentation since his race in Hockenheim – where he had actually won the three races – and he had managed to show you that he could learn to balance racing with studying. You were mostly here for moral support, and to help him work out the finishing touches for his English project. He would present it as soon as Monday afternoon, barely twenty-four hours after the third race at Misano.
“Can you check if there are any typos in the third paragraph?” He asked you while zipping up his race suit. “I added some sentences since Wednesday.”
“I thought this part was fine, though. What made you modify it?”
“I found a note you wrote last week, and it made me realise that I hadn’t expanded enough on the argument there.”
“You do know you don’t have to use every suggestion I make?”
“But they’re always relevant,” he immediately explained. “I’m not the worst anymore when it comes to analysing things, but you always manage to explore things further than I do.”
“I’ll look at it during the race, then.”
“What? No!”
“You just asked me to proofread it, Kimi. Do you want me to do it or not?”
“Well, yes. But either you check right now or after the race,” he told you. “You have to watch me during the race, not my paper.”..
“Oh God…” You sighed at his request, not having expected to deal with such an attitude. You thought that it was kind of childish, but also slightly funny that Kimi would feel jealous about your attention being on his homework rather than on him. As you saw his eyes not averting yours, you decided to do as he wanted. “Fine, I’ll be solely focused on the race.”
“Great!” And just like that, Kimi was back to his usual cheerful self as he was about to make his way to the grid. “Wish me luck?”
“You don’t need it, not from me.”
“I want it, though.”
You groaned, wondering when did Kimi become so dependent on you.
“Good luck,” you told him. “Go win or whatever…”
“Will do, thanks!” Your words were firing him up, and Kimi now felt more determined than ever to finally get a win this season – he’d had two already in F4 UAE and five in ADAC F4 but he really wanted to start winning as well in Italian F4.
You watched as he put his helmet on, before making his way to his car. Kimi would be starting on pole, and he was more motivated than he had ever been thanks to your presence. If he won, Kimi was already prepared to credit you for his victory.
What you hadn’t been prepared for, though, was when Kimi got down from the podium and ran to you with the biggest grin ever. As one hand was holding his trophy, the other made its way around your shoulders. Kimi didn’t care who was watching – it was only F4 anyways, so no one really paid much attention to who accompanied a driver compared to their performances. You froze at the gesture, not having expected it. You immediately wanted to pull away, not liking how warm Kimi felt against you. But you couldn’t move. You couldn’t do anything that would risk ruining the happiness he was currently feeling. So, unlike what you hadn’t done a couple weeks ago, you hugged Kimi back with a smile.
“Congrats,” you told him. “You deserve it.”
A few seconds later, Kimi was the one to step back. His joy was contagious, and he was still harbouring a proud smile.
“Did you see me? Did you watch everything?”
“I did, no worries. You were great out there.” And that was the truth. As much as you wanted to be away from the racing world, you couldn’t erase all the things you knew about it. And what you’d seen from Kimi today? Yeah, he had talent.
“We gotta celebrate, right? Your first time watching me race and I win!” He exclaimed. “That’s no coincidence, it was fate.”
“Fate is first requesting you to study”, you reminded him of why you were truly here in the first place.
“But I won”, he said with a pout.
“And you promised that we’d study between races,” you repeated his words from when he had asked you to come. “One race done, now we work on your presentation.”
“Then we can celebrate?” He reiterated, a hopeful glint in his eyes.
“If I reckon that you worked well, then yes.”
Kimi cheered. It felt weird to you how your words could have such an impact on him, and you really wondered why he was giving them so much importance when you still didn’t dwell on his. But that’s what you believed. And deep down, a very small part of you knew that it wasn’t the truth anymore. You had started caring about Kimi, much more than you ever expected. You were at one of his races for God’s sake! Even though seemingly insignificant, you were taking a step back into the racing world.
It would take you a while to admit it to yourself, but Kimi was already someone important in your life. He was a constant – albeit an annoying one – and you knew that you would now have a hard time making him disappear from your life, even though you weren’t really planning on ever doing so.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
That weekend had marked a point of no return regarding your relationship with Kimi. After winning on Saturday, Kimi had won the second race on Sunday. The third one had been won by Rafael Câmara, but Kimi had still managed to finish P2. In between each race, you and Kimi had worked on the final touches of his English homework which he had eventually gotten full marks on.
Because the driver had successfully proved to you that he could race and study without sacrificing either one, you figured that it wouldn’t be that bad to finally consider him as a friend. Kimi was already at the best friends stage in his mind, though, and he didn’t even notice that he had climbed the ladder to reach your close circle because you had already been near the top of his for a while now.
Following that weekend, you had come to realise that Kimi was actually a good guy? You had definitely been too hard on him, and you were glad to now be able to get the full experience of him being your friend. For the entire summer, Kimi was with you if he wasn’t racing. After a triple header mixing his two F4 championships during which Kimi had won eight out of nine races – with six races won in a row in Italian F4, Kimi was finally free for a whole month.
You formally met all of Kimi’s friends. And in exchange, you introduced him to yours. Your two groups quickly merged together, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to happen. It helped that one of your friends already knew one of Kimi’s friends due to them being in the same Administration, Finance, and Marketing class. Then followed what was probably the best summer of your life. You never thought you could physically have that much fun in so little time, but you did. And it was all thanks to Kimi. He showed you his favourite locations in Bologna, and around. Sometimes your friends would come, but it was just Kimi most of the time – because he would often ask them to pretend that they were already busy so that you would only be with him.
And slowly but surely, you kept warming up to Kimi until it just felt normal to hang out with him. Your third year of high school was then a turning point, mostly for you and the relationship you had with Kimi. He had been crushing you for a couple months already, when he clinched his two F4 championships with only one week between each one. Thankfully, Mugello wasn’t so far from Bologna and Kimi was able to be at your door barely a few hours after celebrating his title at the circuit.
You answered quickly after he rang the doorbell, opening the door in pyjamas.
“Kimi? It’s late, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I won the championship!” He only told you, as a bright smile made its way onto his face.
“You could have called”, you said with a sigh. “And I knew already.”
“What? How?” Kimi thought that he would be the one announcing the news to you, and he wondered how you had learnt of his victory.
“I might have a spy who texted me after each race to notify me about the results.”
“Let me guess; my mum?”
“Exactly,” you confirmed with a nod. “She also informs me whether you study well during race weekends.”
“Oh God…” Kimi groaned, which made you chuckle. “You’re not even tutoring me anymore. I’d almost call this stalking if we weren’t best friends.”
“Well, I’m definitely your best friend. But I gotta make sure all your efforts last year haven’t gone to waste, not only in English.”
“My English is perfect, thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome. The accent is still very prominent, though.”
“You love my accent”, Kimi argued.
“It’s cute, yeah.” You hadn’t thought twice before letting the words out, and you didn’t even notice the effect they were having on Kimi. “Now, do you wanna come or not? My host mother is on a work trip, so I could use the company.”
Without any hesitation, Kimi wiped his feet on the doormat before following you inside – what had become two years ago – your home. It was his first time being alone with you there, and it was suddenly making him nervous. Kimi had been thinking of ways to confess for several weeks already, and he thought that this could be his chance to do so tonight.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
A chaotic late dinner, three rounds of card games, and two hours later; Kimi still hadn’t had the courage to tell you how he felt. The worst part of it? You weren’t even noticing the panic that had been submerging him for the entire evening. You were acting as if everything was normal – because it was, to you – while he was internally a mess. Eventually, Kimi decided to give up for tonight and to keep gathering his strength for when a new opportunity would arise.
When you bid Kimi goodnight on the doorstep, everything was as normal. The two of you hugged, as you were – like often – noticing how much Kimi was growing and how he would soon be taller than you. However, there was something different tonight as Kimi didn’t pull away as quickly as usual.
“Are you alright?” You softly asked, voice low. “You’re hugging me like it’ll kill you to let go.”
“Maybe it will”, Kimi replied.
You thought that he was joking, even though you hadn’t heard any teasing in his tone.
“You know we’ll see each other again soon, right? You have your last races of the year in a few days and then we’ll have all the time in the world ‘till the next season starts.”
“I know…” He mumbled, burying his head in your shoulder.
Even though you didn’t really understand why Kimi was suddenly unable to leave your side, you began rubbing his back as a sign of comfort. You kept reminding him that the two of you would hang out soon, and you even promised him that you would be the first person to congratulate him when he would win the FIA Motorsport Games.
“Don’t put too much faith in me, I don’t want you to jinx it.”
“Says the guy who just won two F4 titles in a row”. You rolled your eyes at him, although he couldn’t see it because he was still holding you tightly in his arms. “I’m just manifesting, not jinxing anything. I know you’ll do great.”
At your last words, Kimi finally pulled away to look at you. He analysed your face, searching for any trace of doubt in your expression.
“You think so?”
“I know so, Kimi. You're gonna crush them all,” you assured him. “So go get them, champ.”
Kimi could only nod, to show that he was taking your words in. It was hard not to believe you, especially when you were harbouring such a confident smile. You knew Kimi’s skills; you had witnessed them yourself back at Misano. Therefore, you were certain that the only position in which he would finish would be on the top step of the podium.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
And he did, but at what cost. Despite him getting pole position which then led him to win both the qualifying and main races, Kimi hadn’t had the perfect weekend. Thanks to him, Italy had won the FIA Motorsport Games. But Kimi? He had unfortunately won a broken wrist along with his gold medal.
Kimi had no idea that you’d react to that like you did to his injury, and he had therefore not expected you to make a beeline for him first thing in the morning when you saw him arrive at school the next day. He almost thought that you wanted to congratulate him again, following your text from yesterday, until he noticed the furrowed brows and frown on your face.
When you reached Kimi, your first reflex was to – gently – grab his left wrist and inspect it from every angle. That definitely made Kimi nervous. Not because he was now expecting you to scold him, but simply because of the warmth from your touch on his skin.
“Hey, how are y–”
“No small talk, Kimi.” Your voice was sharp, although there was a slight hint of worry. “Why did I learn about this” – you held his wrist to emphasise your point – “through a random article online?”
Kimi had nothing to reply, simply looking away from your accusatory gaze.
“I’m not–” You sighed, lowering his wrist. You still kept holding it, not really noticing the way your hand was slowly sliding down to hold Kimi’s. “I’m not gonna be mad that you kept it from me… But why didn’t you tell me, Kimi?”
“Because my win was all that mattered,” he answered.
“Not to me,” you retorted. “I still care about your wins, obviously. You absolutely deserved them, and I’m truly happy for you. But above it all, I care about you. And I just– I was just worried when I read about you driving with a broken wrist, and that you had to race while being in pain.”
“I’m sorry…” Kimi muttered, head hanging low in embarrassment. By looking down, his gaze fell on your hand holding his. This was definitely not the moment to be happy about the physical contact, but still Kimi enjoyed it.
“Don’t apologise, I’m sorry. I don’t wanna make you feel guilty about it,” you told him. “I– I know racing’s your life, but I also know that I wouldn’t want anything more severe to happen to you while you’re doing that.”
“I’m fine, though. It was not a big collision”, he argued.
“Still. Anything can happen,” you said. “And when you reach F1, it gets even more dangerous.”
“I’m not there yet.”
“You’ll be, one day. And that day, I don’t think I would survive you ending up in a massive crash. Not again…” You added without thinking.
“Again?” Kimi repeated, not remembering you ever seeing him have a serious crash.
“Yeah… no, forget about it. The main thing is: be careful,” you requested. “Please.”
“I promise.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed with a nod.
“Okay, I’ll trust you.” Finally removing your hand from Kimi’s, you figured that you had kept him captive for a while already. “Go to class now. I don’t want to make you late.”
Following your order, Kimi bidded you goodbye and made his way to his classroom while you went the other way to yours. You weren’t realising it yet, but the way you had been worried about him was the first change in your relationship with Kimi. And unfortunately, a similar situation would eventually happen again. But this time, Kimi would make sure to know why you were so adamant on it not being a first-time event.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
Several months later, Kimi was now racing in FRECA. He had won the Formula Regional Middle East Championship two months prior, and was therefore confident to do well in the European Championship. A couple podiums during the first two races were already making him champion material, and you were excited for him to eventually get another title – “because you definitely don’t have enough” was what you had told him before he had then gone on to finish in the points for both races in Hungary. It was for now a small reward, despite the fact that he could have had his first FRECA win.
After that, happened Spa two weeks later where Kimi did get his victory. It was however shadowed by the unfortunate fatal accident of Dilano van’t Hoff due to rainy conditions during the second race. While Tim Tramnitz avoided hitting anyone when he spun, the race also saw Adam Fitzgerald ending up at the hospital with several broken bones due to his collision with van’t Hoff. It was therefore not a win to truly celebrate for Kimi, and you were definitely more worried than happy about what else could have happened.
When Kimi came back to Italy the following day, he was met with you sitting on his porch as he approached his home. You had been made aware of Kimi’s return from his mum, and had therefore been waiting for him. You knew that he was fine, that nothing had happened to him, and that he had luckily not been one to suffer from the wet conditions at Spa. But you had felt the desperate need to see that for yourself. You needed to make sure that he was alright, and that he was coming back to you safe.
Kimi started speeding up as soon as he noticed you sitting in front of his door, while you ran to him before pulling him into your arms – he was clearly taller than you now but you didn’t care. Without an ounce of hesitation, Kimi wrapped his arms around you. He wasn’t dumb; he figured why you were reacting like that. You had not texted him yesterday to congratulate him, because it obviously didn’t feel appropriate to do so when Kimi had won while others had undergone what they did.
Neither of you spoke for a bit. Unlike the last similar situation, Kimi was now the one rubbing your back in comfort.
“Are you okay?” You asked with a hushed voice.
“I am”, he replied. “Are you?”
“I don’t know…” You held Kimi tighter in your arms, resting your temple on his shoulder. The scene felt strangely familiar, and hazy memories from last year passed before your eyes. “I was just scared.”
“Of what?” Kimi’s tone was soft, not wanting you to dig your heels in.
“Of something happening to you, during the race.”
“But you can see that I’m here, all fine. I came back in one piece.”
“Still, with what happened to Adam and… Dilano… anything could have– to anyone else… and I wouldn’t have survived losing you,” you said.
“We talked about this a while ago”, Kimi pointed out. “And back then, I told you that I’d be careful. I promised, even. And I was – I always am. That’s why I’m very much there now, here, with you in my arms. You trust me, right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Then keep trusting me when I race.” Kimi was saying it like it was obvious. “I’ll keep coming back to you–”
“You better”, you interrupted.
“Or you know… you can always come to my races to make sure I’m doing fine”, he suggested.
“Nice try, but that’s a no.” You chuckled, amused at him still not giving up on making you go to a race again.
“Can’t blame me for asking.”
Following Kimi’s reassuring words, you felt yourself relax with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be reckless during his next times on track. Kimi smiled to himself when he noticed that you were less tense in his arms.
“Come here”, he eventually said as he gently moved your head from his shoulder down to his chest.
“Wha–” Your temple was now resting on the left side of his chest, and you wondered what was going on.
“Listen”, he simply requested.
You obliged, and calmed your mind to pay attention to whatever sound you were supposed to hear. It took you a couple seconds before you realised what was resonating in your ear: Kimi’s heartbeat, loud and clear.
“You hear it?”
“Yeah”, you whispered.
“What does it mean, then?”
“That blood pumps through your body.”
“That I’m alive”, Kimi corrected with a chuckle.
“Well, I would know if I were hugging a corpse.”
Of course, you had to be back to using humour to deflect your vulnerability. But Kimi knew it also meant that you were back to your usual self, and he was glad that he had managed to comfort you. For a couple more minutes, you kept listening to Kimi’s steady heartbeat until it had lulled your worries away. Slowly pulling away from him, you were now feeling better than before.
“All good?” Kimi asked.
“Yeah”, you confirmed. “I’m clearing you good to go to your next race.”
“As if I needed your permission”. Kimi rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “You wanna come inside now? I don’t even know how long you were sitting there.”
“Probably like an hour, I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Enough to imagine the worst-case scenarios happening again.”
There it was, Kimi thought. He didn’t comment on it as he led you inside his house, but he noted how you said “again” like the previous time. However, Kimi was not about to accept any dismissal you would give if he asked about it today.
He waited until the two of you had eaten, not wanting to ruin the mood early on. It was only when you and Kimi were in his room, laying on cushions scattered across the floor, that he decided to bring it up.
“Did you ever witness a race accident?” Tact was not part of Kimi’s strategy, knowing that you would easily deny his claims if he wasn’t explicit enough. “Involving a driver you personally knew”, he added. “Not like Dilano, ‘cause you never met him.”
You froze at Kimi’s question, before sighing. This is the day, I guess. It wouldn’t be fair to Kimi if you tried to avoid the topic once again. But it also wouldn’t be fair to you if you kept burying your head in the sand by never telling anyone about your past.
“I did”, you admitted. “I didn’t think you would realise that, but I knew drivers. I went to so many other races before going to yours, years ago.”
“Is that why you didn’t really like me at first?”
“Kinda,” you told him. “But it was mostly me not really being a fan of you racing during weekends, because I didn’t want to tutor a guy who didn’t care about school.”
“I do care, though. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
“So, what’s the story? Your story?”
Not saying a word, you sat up and reached for your bag that you had put on Kimi’s desk. You took out your wallet, and Kimi wondered how that was related to the situation. He watched as you pulled out a card-shaped item, before giving it to Kimi.
“That’s your ID”, Kimi pointed out as he looked at its contents. “You look exactly like when I met you.”
“I was fifteen when that picture was taken,” you explained. “I redid my ID a bit after we met, I think. But the picture isn’t the important thing, Kimi. Read the big words in red.”
“Principauté de Monaco.” It took a few seconds for Kimi to notice what he had read, and he whipped his head in your direction when he did. “Monaco?” He repeated with widened eyes. “You’re Monégasque? Oh! That’s why you speak French!” Kimi realised.
“Now, look at the back.”
Kimi turned your ID around, this time immediately paying attention to the words written. There was your last name, obviously. Then, your maiden name. Below was your first name, your nationality, your–
“What the…?” Kimi was confused as he went back to read the first and second lines.
Last name? Ok. Maiden name? Not ok, actually. Because why the hell were they not the same?
“Why do you have two different last names? Do you go by your mother’s name or something?” He wondered. “That’s funny, though. Your maiden name is the same as that driver, Charles – you’ve definitely heard of him. He races for Ferrari,” Kimi explained as if you had no idea who he was. When he turned to face you once again, he was eventually forced to realise that you did know Charles. Probably way better than any Italian. “You–” Kimi observed your face, which was neutral at first glance, as your eyes were now heavy with an underlying meaning. “Your actual last name is Leclerc, like…”
Kimi looked at your ID, then at you, then at your ID again. The realisation dawned on him. You were Monégasque, that had been established. You personally knew drivers. You went to races years ago. You saw accidents.
“I’m Charles’s sister, yeah.”
“Damn, that’s wild. That’s– wait, that was not the right word. I–” Kimi started panicking, not knowing how to properly react.
“Let’s not make it a big deal, alright?”
“But it is a big deal!” He argued. “You’re a driver’s sister! And you told me that you went to races! Was he the one you watched crash? His– his accident with Alonso when he was at Sauber, is that the one you meant?”
“Amongst others, yeah. Spa was a hard one to see back then”, you said. “Jules’s was also… complicated. I was even younger than for Charles’s.”
“Bianchi?” Kimi asked for clarification. You nodded at him in confirmation, and he was finally realising every other thing it meant about your life. “And your dad… you weren’t really much older, either. You–” He glanced at you to gauge your reaction, but was only met with a look of acceptance in your eyes. “Why are you here?” He could only ask. “Why did you come to Italy, alone, under another name?”
You didn’t cry as you told Kimi your story. You didn’t budge when he took your hand in his as you went over the final years you spent with the people who were once your family. Your expression didn’t falter as you explained to your best friend why you just couldn’t bear to ever see him get severely hurt during a race.
When you were done speaking, you truly felt lighter. Kimi tightly hugged you, as if letting you go was not an option. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry for more. He knew you had told him everything, the whole story. He thanked you for trusting him, praised your courage, and promised that your past wouldn't alter the way he had always viewed you.
After that day, everything changed between you and Kimi. It was subtle – in the way of stolen glances whenever the other wasn’t looking, fingers brushing for longer than necessary as Kimi handed you something, shoulders and knees touching when you would sit next to each other. Knowing the secret of your past life was now binding Kimi to you for the rest of his life. And it was as if opening your heart to him had removed a weight from your shoulders, one that you didn’t think had been so heavy to carry. It was exactly what had happened: because you knew that Kimi was someone you could trust. He was someone you could share anything with, and that had been the turning point.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
When your fourth year of high school started, it was obvious to your friends that there had been a shift in your relationship with Kimi during summer break. They had witnessed how you and him had gradually become closer during your third year, but it had now reached another level – the two of you were glued to each other's side and it was impossible to see one without the other whenever you weren't in class.
Kimi hoped that you were slowly but surely reciprocating his feelings – he had been in love with you for a while now – while you were actually still a bit clueless regarding your own feelings. Of course, you knew that you were seeing Kimi in another light since Spa. But you just thought that it was you finally admitting that Kimi was your best friend, which was something that he had gone over very soon after befriending you.
So yeah, you were now starting your fourth year of high school and your friends were desperately waiting for you to give the poor boy a chance. Kimi’s friends were also tired of hearing and seeing him pine over you, as they hoped that you would not take too long to realise that the driver had been head over heels for you since you came to see him race more than a year ago.
And as a chaotic friend group often did, they decided to bet on the situation. While your friends believed that you would notice Kimi’s feelings as well as yours before the second term would start, Kimi’s friends were certain that you would never make the first move until you would all graduate – and neither of those would end up true. Being fully invested in it, they thus created their own groupchat without you and Kimi to keep everyone in the loop about the improvements. There was at least one picture sent per week of Kimi looking at you like you were a P1 trophy, more often than not accompanied by a video of you animatedly ranting about your latest mathematics lesson while Kimi was softly smiling. It was still hard to believe that Kimi was in love with a science genius when it was his worst classes.
For now, nothing much had changed since the beginning of the school year. Except for one thing, that made everyone sigh whenever you would all hang out. They didn’t know if you had noticed it, but you now had the tendency to hold Kimi’s hand all the time. Whether it was subconscious or not, you were always taking Kimi’s hand in yours whenever the two of you were sitting close to each other. Obviously, Kimi had to notice when you started doing that. He couldn’t turn a blind eye whenever he felt your hand grab his, especially when he would eventually look down and see you fidgeting with his rings. The worst part of it? Meeting his and your friends’ teasing eyes after finally glancing up from your intertwined hands, as they were silently begging him to confess because it was way too painful to see him like that. But Kimi couldn’t do it. Because apart from that, there was still no real proof that you loved him romantically and not platonically.
So he waited, and would keep doing so until he would be certain that he wouldn’t ruin his friendship with you just because he had fallen first. However, waiting soon proved to be unbearable when Kimi was not able to celebrate his FRECA title – clinched during the penultimate weekend – with you in the way that he wanted. You had texted him to come to your house after he would be back from Zandvoort, for a get together with your friend group. If he could, Kimi would have kissed you the minute he saw you, and it was hard to not want to when you welcomed him with such a beaming smile that Kimi thought you were shining brighter than any trophy he had ever gotten.
“Congrats, FRECA champion!” You hugged Kimi, truly being happy for him. “Now you gotta chill with all the titles”, you teased before pulling away. “It’ll get to your head.”
“Too late”, he retorted.
“I’m really proud of you, though.” The still-unknown-to-you habit took over, and you took Kimi’s hand in yours. “You know that, right?”
“I know, yeah. How could you not be when your best friend is winning every category he races in?” he rhetorically asked.
You rolled your eyes at Kimi, the smile still present on your face. While Kimi was looking away, you took the opportunity to observe him. It still felt crazy to you sometimes, that you had come this far when you remembered how your relationship with him started two years ago. A lot has changed, you thought. One thing had remained the same, though: Kimi still had his signature messy brown hair, and matching puppy-dog eyes that always lit up whenever you were within his sight. If left alone with your thoughts for too long, you would almost realise how pretty Kimi actually looked right now. And how kind he had always been to you. And how–
“Come on, lovebirds!” One of your friends had opened the window to see what was taking you so long to bring Kimi inside, and she was met with the lovely sight of you holding hands with Kimi – not like she wasn’t used to it by now. “The boys are getting restless, and we need to celebrate the new champ.”
“We’re coming”, you replied without looking at her.
Finally turning his attention back to you after quickly glancing at your friend, Kimi realised that you were just gazing at him.
“What?” He wondered, a curious expression making its way onto his face. He brought up his free hand to his hair, running his fingers through it. “Do I have something or…?”
“No, don’t worry. You’re perfect, as usual.” The words left your mouth without any hesitation, and that was the sort of thing that sometimes confused Kimi on whether you were saying that in the way he hoped. “Let’s join the others, I don’t want them to trash my house.” Turning away from Kimi, you simply walked to your front door as he trailed behind due to your hands still being intertwined.
Obviously, he was met with several teasing eyes as soon as you both entered the house. In all honesty, this was always raising Kimi’s hopes up. Your friends might not know you as well as he knew you, but Kimi always felt like it meant something if even they believed that his feelings wouldn’t forever be unrequited.
The evening that followed was similar to any other that gathered the whole friend group. Laughter filled the room, as Kimi shared a racing anecdote. Your friends nagged you about you already preparing for another year of IT competitions, reminding you that the school year had barely started. Then followed Kimi gushing about how smart you were, while you tried to hide how much his compliments were suddenly affecting you. There was no time to dwell on it for now, as you could only think about how this was the type of moment for which you lived for. Nothing compared to being around those who loved you, and whom you loved back. You had found your own little family in Italy, and wouldn’t trade any of them.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
When Kimi told you that he would be racing in F2, you couldn’t believe that he was now only a step away from his dream that was F1.
“Don’t forget me when you’re famous, yeah?” You joked.
You had accompanied Kimi to the airport, where a plane to Bahrain was awaiting him. His first F2 race was at the end of the week, and you could only hope that he would come back to you in one piece as usual.
“I’m already famous, though.” At your deadpan expression, Kimi chuckled. “You’re always on my mind, don’t worry. It would be too hard to ever forget you.”
You didn’t know if it was the way the words sounded so natural coming from him or if it was the way he was looking at you with such gentleness, but Kimi was suddenly appearing different in your eyes. You didn’t know what had changed from your usual vision of him, and wondered if it was just your brain trying to trick you. However, the feeling in your chest wasn’t the same as the one you had felt after Spa last year. Even if it was still weirdly similar, it was also so foreign to you. That’s new. It wasn’t unpleasant per say, but the change didn’t sit very well with you right now.
Glancing at the screen showing departure times above you, Kimi realised that he needed to get going if he didn’t want to miss boarding. He quickly hugged you with one arm, then kissed your forehead as if he had done so a thousand times already – he hadn’t! That’s new, too.
“Don’t miss me too much”, he teased before waving at you while he walked backwards to where he would eventually go through security.
“As if”, you muttered with a ghost of a smile. You watched as Kimi’s back was now to you, waiting until he was out of your sight before making your way to the exit.
Why would you miss Kimi?
You had experienced more than two years with him in your life, and you couldn’t recall one moment in which you had truly missed him while he was away racing.
So why the hell were you currently missing him?
You hadn’t realised it when Kimi told you that he would join F2, but you were now deeply aware of the fact that the FIA racing categories weren’t solely located in Europe. Back in F4 and FRECA, Kimi would always come back home in between races. But with the double header that put the Bahrain and Jeddah Grands Prix barely a week apart, you realised that you wouldn’t see Kimi for at least two weeks. You had survived just fine when this would very rarely happen during your second year of high school, but right now it was almost like a part of yourself was missing. Kimi was missing, and you didn’t like that. You didn’t like that at all, the way that you were feeling about all this.
And it didn’t take very long for your friends to notice. Kimi would only be back the next day, and you were quite literally pouting about having to wait before seeing him again as you were currently studying with one of your friends for a group project.
“You’re doing it again”, she commented. She didn’t even have to glance up from her homework, because she could feel the grumpiness coming from you.
“What?”
“The whole sad-and-miserable-looking face”, she clarified as she gestured to you.
“I’m not sad-and-miserable-looking” you argued. When your friend eventually intensively stared at you, a sigh escaped from your lips. “I just… I kinda miss Kimi, I guess…” It was your first time admitting it, both to yourself and out loud.
“Really?” Sitting up, your friend suddenly seemed more invested in whatever else you would confess than in her homework as she closed her laptop without a care. “We’re finally doing it, thank God.”
“What’s it?” You wondered, clueless as to what she meant.
“You and Kimi”, she explained as it was obvious. “I’m saving you some time, don’t worry. You’ve finally realised you like him, right? Romantically, of course.”
“What?!” You exclaimed. “No! I don’t– why would I have romantic feelings for Kimi?”
“Why do you miss him, then?” She immediately asked.
“I miss my best friend,” you emphasised. ‘“It’s normal”, you claimed. “He’s thousands of kilometres away, and I haven’t seen him in two weeks.”
“You facetime him every other day.”
“It’s not the same! I’m just not used to him being so far away”, you said. “And then there’s Australia next week already… I don’t want him to leave so soon after he gets back.”
“Why?”
“Because– because it’s not the same,” you repeated. “I never had to wait more than a day after his races to see him again, like– actually see him in the flesh. I miss spending time with him; I miss having him at school; hell, I even miss tutoring him now. I feel stupid.”
“You’re not”, she reassured you. Crawling closer to you, your friend put her arms around you. The position wasn’t the most comfortable as you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, but the gesture comforted you. “It’s new to you, so it's normal to feel like that.”
“It’s been two weeks, though. Not ten years. It’s giving abandonment issues and co-dependency, for a guy.”
“A guy who’s your best friend”, she reminded you.
“He’s not just my best friend,” you admitted.
Oh? Your friend perked up at your words, wondering if the moment was finally happening. It seemed like you actually needed to realise it yourself, even if she had revealed it to you mere minutes before. Not wanting to interrupt your train of thoughts, she waited for you to keep speaking.
“He’s… he’s more than just a friend at this point. Kimi’s the person I trust with my life; he’s the person who’s always there for me, and who never once left my side even when I was so adamant about not befriending him; he’s the person I never want to let go of. He’s my person”, you eventually concluded. And as every single thing you had ever thought as well as felt about Kimi came surging to your mind, it dawned on you.
“There it is”, your friend said as she pulled away from you. She propped her chin onto her palm, as her elbow rested on her knee. Softly looking at you like you would break if she were the one to utter out loud your realisation, she waited for you to make the statement.
“Fuck”, you cursed as your eyes widened. “I’m in love with my best friend.”
“Glad that we immediately went from like to love, that actually saves us time”, she joked.
“You can’t be laughing!” Your tone was accusatory, not believing that she wasn’t taking the situation seriously. “I tell you that I’m in love with Kimi, and you’re laughing?”
“Yeah, because I already knew it would happen.”
“I– Was it obvious to everyone but me?”
“Unfortunately, yes. You know, you’re an academic beast. But when it comes to real life stuff, it’s like your brain just turns off.”
“Okay, rude.” You rolled your eyes at her, before fear took over your body. “Wait– everyone, including Kimi?”
“Oh, no. Don’t worry”, she reassured. “He’s still thinking he has no chance with you for the next three business years, you’re good.”
“What?!”
“Shit”, was the only thing your friend said before watching you spiral.
There was no stopping you now, as you reminisced every single seemingly major event that had happened since you met Kimi two and a half years ago. Especially since Misano. Fucking Misano, you thought as you dramatically put your head in your hands. You recalled every hug, every compliment – both from you and him, every back and forth teasing, every lingering glance, every time you had held Kimi’s hand. Fuck, you had actually done this one a bit too much for someone who claimed she was only best friends with him.
“I’m so dumb? Oh my God…”
“Now you can confess, though. Better late than never.”
“You’re kidding, right? I’m not confessing,” you denied.
“Why? The poor guy has been down bad for almost two years, you can’t keep letting him suffer!”
“It’s way too soon”, you argued. “I need to come to terms with my feelings, this is way too sudden.”
“This is literally what we’ve been doing: you finally realising you love him back.”
“I just need time,” you claimed.
“What for?”
“To process it. Like a couple weeks, I don’t know…”
“Don’t take too long, please. Kimi’s been waiting way too much already”, she reminded you.
“You won’t tell him, right?”
“My lips are sealed,” she promised. “It’s not my place to tell him your feelings.”
Somewhat reassured, you were kind of able to relax. Well, as much as you could while still internally being a mess at the realisation of your feelings. You wished this was something you could have immediately shared with Kimi – given that he was the one you trusted with everything, but this secret needed to stay yours for a bit before you would finally feel ready to tell Kimi.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
You had to thank your amazing poker face and self-control to not reveal anything to Kimi when he was eventually back. He didn’t seem to notice any shift in your attitude, and that was because you were actually acting as if everything was normal. Your friend didn’t say anything to the others, choosing to keep the information to herself. Nothing would change for now, until you felt confident to finally confess.
It took a bit longer than a couple weeks like you had told your friend to find the right time. And that perfect moment didn’t come until after Kimi’s F2 weekend at Silverstone. He had finally gotten his maiden podium and win during the Sprint Race – you had definitely not cried while watching your best friend cross the finish line in first. Despite the six DNFs that had occurred, Kimi had managed to survive a red flag as well as several safety cars to end up P1 at the chequered flag while leading with an eight-seconds gap. And even if Kimi had unfortunately retired the very next day from the Feature Race, you were still beyond proud of him.
To reward Kimi from getting his first F2 victory, you had therefore offered to get him from the airport – you were proud to have passed your driver’s licence already and Kimi’s mum had gladly accepted your offer of replacing her as her son’s taxi. Kimi’s next race wouldn’t be for another two weeks, and you were excited at the idea of being able to spend time with him. Thankfully, you had been done with your fourth year of high school for a month now which meant that your schedule was completely free to hang out with him.
You were unable to stay still as you waited for Kimi in front of your car. He would be there anytime now, and you were as excited as nervous to see him. You were thankful that the parking lot was near empty, because anyone who would walk by you pacing around your car would think that you were slightly crazy and extremely weird. When you heard footsteps echoing from afar along with the noise of suitcase wheels rolling on the ground, you stopped in your tracks to check if it was the person you had been waiting for.
There was no mistake as to who was currently walking towards you; brown curls and a bright smile? Yeah, that was definitely Kimi. It was like time stilled when Kimi was now only a few metres away from you. He had that post race win glow you had seen so many times on him since you had met him. And even if you weren’t in love with Kimi, you would have still thought that he was the prettiest guy you had ever seen. His grin became even wider as he kept closing the gap between the two of you until he was finally in front of you, in the flesh.
Not seeing you react in any way to his presence, Kimi chuckled at your lack of words and movements.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah!” You quickly replied, your eyes never leaving his face. “No, yeah… I’m good. You?”
“Better now that I’m home”, he told you.
“The parking lot of the airport is hardly home,” you retorted. “Even if we’re in Bologna.”
“I meant it in the way that I’m with you”, he clarified.
“Oh…” You could only utter at Kimi’s words. “Cool, that’s cool.”
“You’re sure that you’re alright?” Kimi asked again, while making his way towards the boot of your car to put his suitcase inside.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” You tried to appear neutral, although you were internally cursing yourself for acting so weird. Why now?
“I don’t know, you were looking at me like you had figured out something new about me.” Walking back to where you were standing, Kimi put his hands in his pockets as he was now trying to figure you out. “Anyway, I don’t wanna be that guy but… can I finally get a hug?”
“Oh! Yeah, of course!” Putting your arms around him as he did the same, Kimi’s warmth quickly enveloped you. “Welcome back”, you muttered against his shoulder.
It shouldn’t be as awkward as it was, but it always made you nervous to hug Kimi since you had realised that you loved him. Kimi, on the other hand, was used to being a mess every time he was experiencing physical contact with you. It had become normal to him, and he was therefore not panicking as much as you did.
You didn’t know if it was the fact that the two of you were alone in the parking lot, silence being your only company, but there was a sudden shift in the atmosphere when you pulled back from the hug. Usually, you would have called out Kimi to get a move on so that you could go forward with whatever things you had planned. But the you who was in love with her best friend wasn’t the usual you. And so for once, you were the one not making any move to signal that you and Kimi were supposed to go. Instead, you were once again looking at Kimi in a way that got him confused like earlier.
“Stop doing that”, he teased.
“Doing what?”
“Being all nervous around me. It’s weird.”
“I’m not weird”, you denied. “It– it’s your fault, anyway.”
“What?” Kimi was definitely confused now. He was making you nervous? As if it hadn’t been the other way around for the past two years. However, Kimi was actually curious about it. Were you really nervous because of him? He had to test it out.
Taking a step, Kimi was closer to you than ever. Being taller than you for a while now, he had to slightly look down to gauge your expression. And his theory proved to be true, when a light blush suddenly coated your cheeks. That’s new, Kimi thought with a smile. To him, this was probably the most evidence he had ever witnessed that might confirm his feelings were finally not unrequited anymore. Wanting to take things further, he decided to be bolder as he glanced down at your lips. It was swift, but you noticed. And so in reaction, you could only do the same as you were now the one whose eyes quickly settled on your best friend’s lips.
“You literally looked at my lips”, he pointed out.
“You did it first!” You argued.
“But you didn’t have to do it either.” Kimi didn’t know where this sudden burst of confidence had come from, but he was clearly enjoying having the upper hand in this very situation. “That’s funny, I would almost think that you wanted to kiss me just then. It’s not like it took you years to finally fall in love with me”, he added with a chuckle. “Can’t blame you, though. I’m a real catch.” Kimi wasn’t even being arrogant. His tone was playful and he was actually risking it all by gambling on the sheer instinct that you liked him back. He decided that he had nothing to lose anymore – except the fact that he could ruin the friendship he had with you – and therefore went all in. “If you want, I can make the first move if you’re too shy right now. It would just mean that you’re not the one who wears the pants in–”
Kimi wasn’t even able to finish his sentence as his lips were now prevented from saying anything else. But he didn’t care, because it was currently due to you kissing him that he couldn’t add another word. Although short, the kiss actually felt quite passionate. You had grabbed Kimi’s hoodie to pull him down towards you, and were satisfied to have managed to shut him up. Letting go of his collar barely a few seconds later, you had a proud smirk on your face. It went away as quickly as it had appeared, and you immediately went back to harbouring a neutral face before opening the door of your car. Looking back at Kimi whose eyes had widened and whose mouth was still agape, you decided that it was your turn to tease.
“You’re gonna catch flies, Kimi. Now get in the car, please. I don’t wanna get stuck in traffic,” you said before sitting behind the wheel and waiting for him to join you inside.
Kimi obliged, as he walked to the passenger’s side to take his seat beside you. The drive back home – to his house – was quiet. Neither you or Kimi said a word, but the silence between the two of you still felt louder than ever. Eventually, Kimi needed to talk or else he would combust. He needed an explanation. And even if he knew what it was already, he needed to actually hear you say it.
“So… best friends kiss each other now?”
“You were talking too much”, was your only reply.
“Come on”, he whined. “I always talk too much, and yet you’re not kissing me every time it happens.”
“This was a mistake, whatever…” You mumbled under your breath, keeping your eyes on the road.
“Sure.” Kimi did not believe you at all. “I’ll let you think that.”
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
You were parking your car in front of Kimi's house not long after. The tension was still heavy between the two of you, as neither of you had said another word after your very short conversation from earlier. Both you and Kimi got out of the car, before you leaned on its side while waiting for Kimi to get his suitcase from the boot.
“You wanna come inside?” He offered you. “Or do we talk about earlier while standing on the pavement?”
“There’s nothing to say about earlier.”
“Really? We’re gonna pretend like nothing happened?”
Kimi intensely stared at you, not wanting to give up on getting a proper explanation from you. Neither of you looked away, until you eventually sighed. Kimi proudly smirked at your reaction, and waited for you to speak.
“Okay,” you began. “You wanna talk about it? We’ll talk about it. I like you, happy?” You rhetorically asked, with sarcasm in your voice. “Hell, I might even be in love with you. And it’s been making me crazy since I realised that. Because now I fucking miss you every time you’re on the other side of the world, racing in whatever country. And even when you’re still in Europe, I hate that you’re so far away. You used to always be in Italy – despite the couple Middle East championships that you did – and I didn’t have to wait more than a few hours after the last race to see you. This is how crazy this whole thing is making me!” You exclaimed, running your fingers through your hair. “And– and I just– I’m actually scared for when you’ll reach F1 because you’ll be gone so much more often, and I don’t know how I’ll survive that shit. Oh, and also–”
You weren’t able to start another sentence, because you were cut off by a pair of lips on yours.
Kimi was kissing you.
And it wasn’t the same as when you had done it earlier. Kimi had his hands in his pockets, like kissing you was an everyday occurrence with how nonchalant he was doing it. It was gentle, and felt way too natural for only a second time. When Kimi slowly pulled away, a smile was making its way onto his face. He was definitely proud of himself for getting you back. You, however, were flabbergasted by his action.
“What the–” You were staring at Kimi blankly, not having expected him to do that.
“You were talking too much”, was his only explanation.
“Why would you kiss me just because of that?!”
“You kissed me first”, Kimi reminded you.
“Well, you– you fell in love with me first!” You argued.
“Can’t deny it.” He still had that satisfied smile harbouring his face, like he wasn’t ashamed at all of his feelings. “Took you long enough to see it, though.”
“Oh, shut up.” You rolled your eyes at him, a ghost of a smile briefly appearing.
“I would say make me, but that feels way too cliché right now. And you’d probably insult me for it”, Kimi assumed.
“Nicely guessed.”
The silence that was now settling between the two of you was definitely not as awkward nor was it as uncomfortable as the one from earlier in the car. There was an underlying feeling of understanding, that was now only waiting to turn into something else. Either you or Kimi needed to say the words out loud – the ones that would fully mark the new chapter of your relationship. Sensing your hesitation due to your nervousness, Kimi chose to be the one to take matters into his own hands.
“Can I take you out? So that we can see what can change between us, and in which direction we wanna go. No pressure”, he added.
“I’d really like that. No pressure,” you repeated his words with a soft smile.
And from then on, it was almost like everything was now making sense between the two of you. Kimi was nothing but a gentleman, and he was truly happier than ever at being able to love you out loud. While you had only spent a couple months with the knowledge of your feelings, Kimi had silently been living with his own for two years now.
Following your first date, you and Kimi then properly started dating after he had come back from his next race weekend in Hungary – where he had won his first F2 feature race. At the same time, nothing and everything had changed. You and Kimi were as close as before, now with the bonus of holding hands – romantically this time – and kissing. You had already thought that Kimi as a friend was clingy, but Kimi as a boyfriend was even worse – not like you actually minded. Cuddles were always a must whenever you were at each other’s house, and you truly cursed yourself as the reason for it not having happened earlier.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
You had only been dating Kimi for two months when it was announced to the world that he would become an F1 driver for Mercedes next season. The reveal, although not that surprising to the fans, had been part of the rollercoaster of emotions that had been Monza. On the one hand, there was Kimi who had unfortunately experienced a short FP1 session due to him crashing into the barriers. On the other hand, there was the victory of Charles Leclerc in the Temple of Speed. It was a home win for Ferrari, and the entirety of Italy talked about it for the days that followed. The hype around il Predestinato was nothing but worldwide, and you honestly hated hearing about your brother whenever you went out. Still, you decided to bear it because it was better than hearing people criticise your boyfriend for his crash.
It was moments like this one during which you felt bittersweet and nostalgic about your family. Charles had won both Monaco and Monza, but you hadn’t been there for either of those victories. It hurt watching pictures and videos of him celebrating with the rest of his family – who was once your family too. They looked perfect, all of them together. And it was as if you had never been part of it. But you had a new one, now. You had Kimi. You had your host mother, who had become the closest thing to an actual mother in the years you had been living with her. You had all your friends. And even Kimi’s family had become yours.
So yeah, you sometimes wondered how life would’ve been if you had never left Monaco. If you had never been forced to leave Monaco in order to be happy. If your family had loved you the way they were supposed to. But none of that mattered anymore. Not when you had Kimi by your side, and all the other wonderful people whom you had met in Italy. They were all your family and every single one of them dearly loved you without ever making you feel like you were undeserving of their affection.
Following Monza, you and Kimi were soon starting your fifth year of high school. But more importantly, it was the last one before you would finally graduate. With the F2 season being more demanding than his previous racing categories, Kimi had mostly been doing online school. He was attending classes whenever he could between grands prix, but it was clear that this was also how it would go when he would be in F1 next season.
Either way, you now had a routine of getting Kimi from the airport whenever he was coming home between races – if it was not a double or triple header on the other side of the world – which he was always grateful for as you were therefore the first person he would see after landing in Italy. You still helped Kimi with school – not with English anymore but more so with mathematics – from time to time, even when he was calling you at the crack of dawn so that you could explain a formula to him.
You knew that this would definitely keep going until graduation, and you were right as it even became an inside joke in the F1 world that Kimi needed tutoring regarding his maths homework. Little did the fans know, you were the one helping him at the end of the day and not George – as much as the Mercedes socials tried to pretend.
Still it was definitely not easy for Kimi to now balance being an actual F1 driver and his online studies. He had a hard time focusing on both at the same time, especially when he had to actually go to school sometimes between double and triple headers. He wished he could have pretended otherwise, but you knew better. You knew him.
So you kept supporting Kimi from home. You sent him good morning messages when you were going to bed, followed several hours later by a good luck text before his race would start as the sun had barely risen for you. That was one thing about you: never in hell were you missing one of Kimi’s races, especially since he had joined F2 last year. You were kind of glad that races in F1 were slightly later than in F2, because it meant that you could enjoy sleeping in a bit more on Sundays.
And this kept going on like that until there would eventually be one Sunday on which you would definitely not sleep in.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
Following the highs and lows of what had been the beginning of Kimi’s first F1 season, you kind of had no choice but to accept coming to Kimi’s home race in Imola. You wanted to refuse, at first. But Kimi’s begging eyes made it hard for you to do so. He had explained his perfect idea – his words – to you so that you wouldn’t have to see your brother Charles or any other Leclerc who might be there.
And now, he had to brief the other people who were the key part of this:
“Here’s the plan, guys.”
As the self-appointed best classmate ever, Kimi had offered his entire class to come to the Italian Grand Prix in Imola. This would be his first home race in F1 – and even if there was also Monza later that year, Imola would be the most special one. Therefore, Kimi wanted to bring his classmates to the paddock to make up for missing the actual school trips.
“Because my girlfriend isn’t actually in our class – which is the most devastating thing ever, I shouldn’t be able to bring her as an actual classmate of ours.”
“But?” One of his friends asked, already expecting what would be.
“But, she’ll still come with us to the race.” The driver was harbouring a proud smile, knowing that his plan was foolproof. “You just have to pretend that she’s part of the class.”
“With how often you talk about her, it’s already as if she were.” The comment made everyone snicker.
“Okay, well… True, yeah… But I really need everyone to commit to the bit, please.”
“Why don’t you want to go public public?” Someone wondered. “Most of our year knows already, and we all knew to not say anything outside. But it’s been what, two years now?”
“A year and a half, I think.”
“When was it again?” A girl from the back questioned.
“I’m pretty sure it was the beginning of the second term”, her friend replied. “During year four.”
“No,” someone else argued. “This was still their never-ending friends in love and in denial phase. They started dating during the summer break of that year.”
“Are you certain? I'm sure they've been dating for longer than that, I could swear it was–”
“Guys!” Kimi whined. “ As much as I appreciate everyone being invested in my relationship, can we please focus on the race?” When everyone nodded, Kimi sighed in relief. “I don’t want the world to know because of certain stuff she went through in the past, and I especially don’t want anyone to dig things up while she’s simply supposed to enjoy a race. So she’ll come with us, as a classmate. That way, no one will focus on her. We’ll be lowkey, and I count on all of you to play the part.”
“You can trust us, mate.” A friend of Kimi's clapped his back with a smile, while the rest of the class agreed with the statement.
Kimi thanked his class, glad to have them – except for the fact that they were now debating again about when you started dating Kimi. He was excited to have their support in the upcoming race, and would do his best to make them all proud. But most of all, he couldn’t wait to make you – as well as his whole family – proud too.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
“Why aren’t you with the others?” Someone behind you asked.
You turned around, seeing none other than George Russell. He allowed himself to lean on the wall beside you, not caring if you didn’t want company.
“I just like spending some me-time by myself,” you replied. “I love those guys, but they’re a lot.”
You observed as Kimi and a couple classmates were playing football between two motorhomes. George followed your gaze, and understood your thoughts as he noticed how loud your classmates could be.
“Are you enjoying yourself, though?”
“Yeah, I am. It’s not everyday that I’m in an F1 paddock.”
“Must have been a while since you last saw Kimi race, right?”
“Huh?” You were confused by George’s words, not knowing what he meant.
“You’re his girlfriend, right?” The driver wondered. “I know you’ve been taking your studies way more seriously than him, so you probably haven’t had much time to come watch him.” When George saw your eyes widen, he started panicking. “Wait– you’re the girlfriend, right? Right? Please tell me I didn’t get the wrong girl. Oh my God…”
You were two seconds away from witnessing George Russell spiraling at the thought of mistaking you for another person, and you couldn’t let it happen. Not when you were trying to stay discreet.
“It’s me, yeah. You didn’t get the wrong person”, you reassured him. “I’m just confused as to the how and the why you know that, though. Not many people are aware of it”, you explained. “Only his family, a few friends, and our classes.”
“Technically, Kimi doesn’t know that I know your identity.”
“What?”
“Well, he talks about his girlfriend – you – sometimes. But he never said a name, just once mentioned that he met you at school.”
“So how did you know it was me before I confirmed it to you?”
“You’re his lockscreen,” George told you. “And Kimi will sometimes take his phone just to look at your picture, so it’s hard not to notice. He’s kind of extremely down bad for you if I may say.”
“That’s… actually cute,” you said with a chuckle. You were aware that Kimi often changed his lockscreen for different pictures of you, but you hadn’t expected him to just look at them. Taking out your phone, you double tapped on the screen to show George your own lockscreen. “He’s mine too.”
“You guys are so in love, I don’t think I would survive even five minutes around you two.”
“Good thing you won’t have to, then. We’re trying to keep it lowkey, especially here.”
“You can trust me to keep my lips sealed, don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t going to worry about it; I know Kimi has a lot of admiration for you and that he values you a lot. But it might be best to tell him that you’re in the loop, now.”
“Yeah, I’ll tell him once we’re alone. But it was nice to finally meet you…?” As he had mentioned earlier, George didn’t even know your name and he was waiting to finally put one on your face.
So you formally introduced yourself to your boyfriend’s teammate, offering your hand for him to shake. And just to not draw attention to you because you had been having a casual conversation with an F1 driver, you decided to ask George for a picture. He immediately understood what you were trying to do, and followed your lead with a smile. He took your Mercedes cap – the one that had been given to the entire class – and signed it after he found a marker lying around. To take it further, he also called out to some of Kimi’s classmates who were nearby before suggesting to take more group pictures. Therefore, no random fans or workers would walk by the Mercedes hospitality and think that Kimi’s secret girlfriend was hiding in plain sight.
You truly hadn’t expected to enjoy being in a paddock that much. And it seemed that luck was on your side as even if Mercedes’s hospitality was close to Ferrari’s, you didn’t even see Charles once during the entire weekend – apart from when he was on a screen. However, luck was definitely not on Kimi’s side for his home grand prix. Friday hadn’t been his day; and despite a more positive FP3, Kimi had qualified to line up p13 on Sunday afternoon. Then, everything went downhill.
Kimi was actually in the points for a while after some drivers did an early stop and he had managed to keep Lewis Hamilton behind him for the first half of the race. But after Lewis eventually passed Kimi to get to P6, it was only a matter of time before the Italian driver began to slow down ten laps later. Due to the turn where Kimi’s car stopped, the safety car came out while the Mercedes would be removed from the track.
From that moment on, you only wanted to cry. This was Kimi’s home race, the one he had been so excited about. He had his family there, his friends, his classmates. He had you watching him. And he wouldn’t even see today’s chequered flag. You couldn’t imagine how he was feeling. There would probably be a mix of shame and disappointment filling up Kimi’s heart. He had wanted so much to make the people around him proud, and he now truly thought that he had wasted everyone’s time by not even finishing the race.
It wasn’t his fault at all, though. And you could only repeat this to Kimi, like a mantra, when he was in your arms later that evening. After the chaotic whirlwind that was a post-race paddock, you and Kimi were now in his room. The two of you were sitting on the floor against his bed, cushions spread around to make the setting more comfortable. The atmosphere surrounding you and Kimi was similar to that time when you had shared your story with him. He had been the one bringing you comfort back then, and this time it was the other way around.
You knew that Kimi wouldn’t forget anytime soon about what he described as a “disastrous race weekend”. But in the meantime, you would still reassure him the best that you could to take his mind off it. This was only one race. This was only his rookie season. He would get back up. He would show the world what he was capable of. And when it would happen, you would still be there by his side.
You would still be there to remind him that as long as he wasn’t giving up, it wasn’t over.
Your words brought some peace to Kimi, as you felt him relax in your arms. You would usually never catch your boyfriend being the little spoon, but he had definitely needed and deserved to be it tonight. The warmth of your body behind his was making him feel less tense, and he was soon enough in the arms of Morpheus as well as yours.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
It had barely been three weeks since Kimi’s home grand prix, when he finally voiced the question he had been thinking all day of asking you:
“Can you come to the next race, please?”
You and Kimi were currently cuddling on your couch, as the TV was broadcasting a kids’ show that Maggie was focused on. She was sitting on another couch a few metres away from the two of you, completely engrossed in whatever story full of plot holes was going on.
“I don’t know… It’s not like your class will be here again”, you told him. It was one thing to have come to a race while all of Kimi’s classmates were there, but it would be another to come alone.
“I need you,” he pleaded. “The triple header has been utter shit, and I think it’ll help me to have you there.”
“What if I distract you, though?”
“I’m always distracted by you,” Kimi claimed. “Even if you’re not here, my thoughts will drift to you.”
“Flattery won’t help you, Kimi.”
“Not even a little bit?”
“I don’t want to see him”, you admitted. “It was easy to avoid him last time because I didn’t leave Mercedes and everyone was there. But the whole paddock would notice you pulling up with just one person.”
“You don’t have to leave the hospitality either this time.”
“Still, it’s just– I don’t know…”
“It’s been years since you last saw him”, Kimi argued. “And he might not even recognise you, no offence.”
“None taken. It’s true that we haven’t seen nor spoken in… God… almost five years”, you realised.
“I truly don’t want to pressure you, but it’d really help to have you here. I won’t force you, though. I know what it already took you to come to Imola, and I also know that F1 races are way different than the lower categories.”
You didn’t reply for a couple minutes, considering Kimi’s request. You looked down at Kimi’s hands in yours, and started fidgeting with his rings – the one habit that had started a while ago and that you had eventually noticed when the two of you had begun dating. Kimi didn’t say anything else, knowing that you needed time with your thoughts before accepting or not. After several minutes, you made a decision.
“Okay,” you said.
“Okay…?” He repeated.
“I’ll come.”
“Really?” Kimi sat up on the couch, making you do so as well in the process.
“Yeah,” you confirmed. “I guess I shouldn’t really hide anymore.”
“I’m so happy! Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Kimi engulfed you into a hug, grateful that you were accepting to join him in Canada. “I’m proud of you, also.”
“Thanks. It’ll be weird, but it’ll be worth it. I’m doing it for you, but for me as well. I can’t be scared for eternity. It’s just a paddock, with my brother somewhere in it.”
“And it’s not like you’ll be under his name”, Kimi pointed out. “People won’t even know you’re related. It’s my name that’ll be associated with yours.”
“Wait, am I gonna end up on camera like the other WAGs?”
“Well, not as my girlfriend if you really don’t want to. People might not even notice that you were also there in Imola,” Kimi explained. “We’ll stay lowkey.”
“Is it alright with you? You know I’ll be there to support you, just from the shadows.”
“It’s fine, yeah. No worries”, he reassured you. “But you have to agree to something, then.”
“Lay it on me, Antonelli.”
“If I get a podium, you’re coming to parc fermé.”
“You’re awfully confident”, you teased Kimi.
“I’m already expecting you to be my lucky charm,” he argued.
“It didn’t work that well last time”, you retorted.
“It worked in Misano, though. I’m pretty sure you need to come alone to a race for it to be successful.”
“Fine, then. Get a podium and I’ll come running to be your fan in parc fermé,” you promised. “Is it doable from hospitality or do I need to be in the garage beforehand?”
“It should be fine, unless you’re against sprinting to get there in time.”
“Garage it is, then…” you sighed.
“I’ll make sure you’re completely anonymous there, don’t worry!”
“I trust you, Kimi.”
Your boyfriend kissed you, quickly enough so that Maggie wouldn’t have time to notice and comment on the two of you being grossly in love as she liked to complain. Kimi was truly glad at the idea of having you close to him for the next race, and he now couldn’t wait for the Canadian Grand Prix.
“Finally, I’ll have my girlfriend in my garage. Even if no one except George or my close team will know about it, it’ll really motivate me. You know I’ve been dreaming of it since the beginning of the season?”
“Really?”
“I didn’t say anything before, but I was kinda jealous of all the drivers always having their girls there to support them. Good or bad race, they had someone to return to.”
“Oh, Kimi…” You knew it wasn’t his goal, but Kimi’s words were making you feel a bit guilty.
“But it was fine!” He added, as he noticed the shift in your attitude. “I knew I was always coming home to you eventually. And you weren’t there for good reasons,” he reminded. “You had to stay on top of your classes.”
“Yeah. But school’s over now, so I don’t have an excuse anymore not to come. You still have to study, though.”
“Don’t remind me”, Kimi said with a groan.
“It’s the home straight, you’re almost done.”
“You’ll help me revise? Like good old times?”
“Misano was not a good time, Kimi.”
“Weird, because I vividly remember you enjoying that weekend. I won two races out of three and got a perfect mark for my presentation; that was definitely a good time for me.”
“Yeah, well… You were really annoying back then!”
“You just say that because deep down, you were already in love with me and didn’t want to admit it.”
“Oh, I was far from that stage. Misano made me realise you were just bearable as a friend,” you told him.
“Damn, my ego’s taking a blow.”
“You’ll survive”, you teased Kimi.
“Thank God I never gave up after that, right?”
“You were persistent, I’ll give you that. But yeah, thank God you never gave up on me.”
You could pretend all you wanted, but deep down you had always enjoyed Kimi’s stubbornness. He had been so dead set on befriending you early on after meeting you, and he was truly thankful that his past self had done that. Because now, Kimi was dating his best friend and he wouldn’t trade his relationship with you for anything else in the world.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
A week later, you were therefore in Montréal with Kimi for the Canadian Grand Prix. You remembered watching last year’s race with your boyfriend, and you really hoped that this year’s edition wouldn’t be as chaotic as the last one – although seeing your brother DNFing might bring a smile to your face, only if it was due to a power unit issue once again and not a severe crash. You were currently in Kimi’s garage, after spending the two previous days in Mercedes’s hospitality.
The race would be starting soon, and Kimi was lined up fourth on the grid. George was on pole and the entire garage was already hoping for a Mercedes double podium, you included. But it would be a tough fight for Kimi, as he had the championship leader right next to him and a four-time world champion in front. Still, you knew that Kimi would be hungrier than ever to get his first podium after being so close to one back in Miami.
Soon enough, it was lights out and away the drivers went. You were already biting your nails seconds after the start, as Kimi was getting past Oscar to reach P3. The entire garage cheered, and you were now clearly running on adrenaline. Even if there were still more than sixty laps left, you could feel it: Kimi was getting that podium today.
When both Max and George pitted, Kimi led the race for only one lap before he followed as well to put on new tyres. He came out right behind Max, which was extremely positive as he was virtually still third. When all the drivers in front then pitted as well, the top three was back to how it was after the first lap: George in the lead, with Max and Kimi trailing further behind. Today was clearly Mercedes’s day, and that double podium felt more real than ever. Even after a second stop for most drivers, it went back once again to the same three leaders.
Less than twenty laps before the end, Oscar was however closing the gap with Kimi. You could feel the whole garage tense, scared for the Italian driver. But despite having had DRS, Oscar couldn’t get past Kimi after being slowed down by the lapped drivers. Kimi was well on the way to his first podium while the two McLaren drivers were busy battling with each other for P4.
The race then ended behind the safety car, following an incident between Oscar and Lando. Kimi had therefore not been overtaken. He was still P3. And the whole Mercedes garage erupted in cheers as Andrea Kimi Antonelli was getting his first podium in F1 along with George winning his first race of the season.
You felt like you were living a waking dream. You weren’t even able to react to Kimi’s achievement, too in awe of his performance today. It wasn’t until Toto Wolff touched your shoulder that you were startled out of your daydream. You looked at him in confusion, not having expected his presence.
“Come on”, he simply said before guiding you towards the pit lane. “I believe you promised to be there for Kimi’s first podium.”
Remembering how you had told Kimi that you would be in parc fermé to celebrate with him if he was getting a podium – hence why you had been in his garage today, you quickly followed Toto where most of the team was already running to. When the two of you reached the barriers, Kimi was parking his car in front of the 3 sign. As he got out of his car, there was only one thought on his mind: you. He didn’t waste any time spotting you amidst the sea of Mercedes employees, and he quickly removed his helmet before sprinting to where you were. Kimi didn’t even acknowledge George and Max who wanted to congratulate him, as the young driver ran past them to reach you.
You didn’t even have time to notice Kimi’s figure getting closer, that he already had his arms around you. Not thinking twice, you hugged him back with a wide grin. To say you were proud of Kimi would be an understatement, and you were truly grateful to have been able to witness his first podium with your own eyes. Then, the whole world seemed to slow down when Kimi slightly pulled back to face you. With only a flicker of his eyes to your lips, Kimi was quietly warning you of his next action as his arms left your waist so that his hands could go cup your cheeks. And barely two seconds later, Kimi was kissing you in front of everyone.
Gasps and cheers echoed from all around, but neither you or Kimi could hear anything. You were in your own little bubble of love, and Toto could only smile down at the sight of his driver’s happiness. When you and Kimi both pulled away from the kiss, it was a given that hundreds of pictures as well as videos were already being posted everywhere. It was a matter of minutes before the entire internet and world would learn that Kimi Antonelli had a girlfriend, but neither of you cared about it right now. The only important thing to focus on at the moment was Kimi getting his first podium, for which he was soon requested to give an interview before it would be time for the cooldown room and the actual podium celebrations.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
The rest of the day was a blur, and it was only when you were on your flight back to Italy with Kimi that everything settled in all at once.
“Did I really hard launch our relationship on live television?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“And you swear you’re not mad?”
“No, Kimi. I honestly don’t care”, you admitted. “It actually feels… freeing, in a way?”
“Because we don’t have to keep it a secret anymore?”
“And also because I can proudly show you off, now. My boyfriend is a podium sitter, and I wanna tell everyone about your achievements.”
“Well, then I’ll tell everyone about your achievements in return.”
“They’re not as worthy as yours, though.”
“You’re kidding?” Kimi was offended, as he truly believed that your talent should be recognised. “I have the smartest person ever as my girlfriend! And I already told Toto that you’ll be my race engineer one day,” he added. “Or at least part of my team.”
“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”
“I don’t give a fuck,” he quickly argued. “I need the best of the best, and that’s you – my cool and studious girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend who is by the way waiting for you to graduate. We can’t have you getting a podium and failing your finals right after.”
Kimi groaned at the reminder of why you were both flying back to Italy so soon after the Canadian Grand Prix. He had indeed planned to pass his final exams this coming week, hoping to join you quickly enough as a high school graduate. Even if he hadn’t had time to study much recently, Kimi had done his best with your help as well as his teachers’. He was confident in his abilities to succeed in his studies after such a great race weekend, and he knew he had your support too.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
The next day, you were in the comfort of your bed while nervously thinking of Kimi. He was currently on the other side of town in front of his exam paper, and you were checking your phone every five minutes in expectation of a text from him even though you knew that he wouldn’t be done for another half hour. Eventually, your phone did notify you of a message. However, it wasn’t from Kimi but from one of your close friends. There wasn’t much content: only a link to what seemed to be an online article, followed by you’re famous now.
Clicking on the link, you weren’t even surprised by the title of the article. You were definitely surprised by how quick something like this one had come out, and you mentally praised the writer’s dedication.
Now that you were in the public eye for being Kimi’s girlfriend, it was actually kind of obvious that it wouldn’t have taken long before the media would have decided to dig into your life. You knew that this day would come, and you honestly felt ready for whatever would happen after people would read about who you actually were. But you didn’t mind. Because anything they would disclose regarding your life before you had arrived in Italy, wasn’t who you were anymore.
And on the other side of the world, a certain someone who was coming back to Monaco after a movie premiere in New York was clearly confused when receiving the same link that you did. But for that person, the contents of the article would definitely be more shocking than anything else.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT KIMI ANTONELLI’S GIRLFRIEND
Posted an hour ago
If you’re an F1 fan who tuned in for the Canadian Grand Prix yesterday, you certainly hadn’t expected to see the young Italian driver claiming his maiden podium during his rookie season. But above it all, you were definitely not expecting him to run in the direction of an unknown girl after reaching Parc Fermé before sharing a loving kiss with her. Antonelli has never talked about being in a relationship before, and was not known to be in one – unlike some of his fellow rookies whose girlfriends often come to support them during race weekends.
And obviously, we had to dig a little.
If you thought that she was a normal person, think again. Here’s everything you need to know about Kimi Antonelli’s girlfriend:
- she studies at the same high school – ITCS Gaetano Salvemini in Bologna– as her boyfriend, but is unlike him specialising in informatics [pictured here is Antonelli’s girlfriend who was actually hidden in plain sight amongst the driver’s classmates at Imola last month]
- she’s what people could describe as a science genius due to her participations in the Italian competition i giovane e le scienze [see below for the two previous editions in which she took part]
- she actually won last year’s edition of the Italian Olympiads in Informatics and came second that same year in the Italian Olympiads in Cybersecurity [the latter which was apparently not even her preferred field of work]
Anyways, she clearly has a path already paved for her to become a future engineer – Mercedes better take advantage of their driver dating a genius!
However, you’ll be pleased to know that her original ties are not with the German team but rather an Italian team that you all know very well.
We kept the best piece of information for last, and I hope you’re all sitting down for this one: Antonelli’s girlfriend is not only dating an Italian driver, but also the younger sister of Italy’s il predestinato Charles Leclerc.
And now, you’re all wondering: but doesn’t Leclerc only have two brothers? Well, yes. As far as everyone knew, the Leclerc siblings have always been composed of three men. So where is this sister coming from?
We actually don’t have much information about it for now, but we can definitely tell you that she’s been reported as living in Italy since she started high school. Whether it has been a family decision to send their youngest to another country or due to some bad blood between the Leclercs, we can mostly speculate that it’s the latter. The Leclerc name is nowhere near associated with Antonelli’s girlfriend since she settled in Italy, and her engineering success can only be described as hers – without any help coming from her brother’s fame.
Kimi Antonelli is scheduled to pass his own maturità – the Italian finals in high school – this week, and we can only hope that its result will be as positive as his girlfriend’s. Safe to say, we clearly have a power couple on the rise and it would be a sight for sore eyes to one day witness them teaming up together: a driver and his girlfriend as engineer? Talk about the dream team!
Now, what we’ll be waiting for is a reaction from the Leclerc family and especially from Charles. Learning that your younger sister has been living her best life by not being linked to you? Yikes, that must sting!
Stay tuned for any new information we’ll have on this, and congratulations again to Kimi Antonelli for his maiden podium.
See more articles about…
Kimi Antonelli Charles Leclerc Canadian Grand Prix
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
To say that Charles was shocked by what he had just read would be an understatement. How could he have forgotten so easily about you? And how could he have not recognised you? He had seen pictures of you and Kimi in Parc Fermé, but he didn’t even think that you looked familiar. Charles could only feel shame and guilt right now, as he scrolled back up to look at the group picture from Imola. You seemed so happy there – you were – and Charles knew that he had never made you smile so wide back when you were still in Monaco.
Not thinking twice, he opened a new tab and typed your name. And Charles could only feel like his heart was breaking when nothing showed up. Because he had written Leclerc after your first name. So he sighted, and changed it to the one he had seen on social media. Now, there were dozens of results about you. There was the article Charles had just read. Your socials were all linked. There were a couple videos with stills picturing Kimi running to you, before he had hugged and kissed you. But otherwise, nothing that directly linked you to Charles and the Leclerc family unless it was to actually highlight that you weren’t associated with them anymore.
The worst thing about it? Charles knew that he was to blame for this. If only he had cared more about you all those years ago. If only he had seen your sadness and your tears whenever you were neglected. If only he had fought for you to stay in Monaco instead of letting you go. If, if, if… Charles knew he had no right to even ask– no, beg for your forgiveness. Maybe in another life, he had done things right with you and he still had a sister. But in this one, it was too late for Charles to fix it.
Even if he had the courage to text or call you to apologise, you honestly wouldn’t care. It was in the past, and you had moved on. Your life was as perfect as it could get right now. Your high school years had been successful. You had found a real family. You had friends, and your best friend had even become your boyfriend. Maybe your future wasn’t set fully in stone as you were still wondering about your professional career that would eventually follow your graduation, but your past definitely was. It was buried deep down at the very back of your mind and heart, never to be worth thinking of according to you.
It wasn’t thanks to Charles, nor to any other Leclerc that you had come this far. No, Kimi had been the one there for you. Maybe not from the beginning of your new life, but he would clearly be there until the end.
When you met Kimi, you had no idea who he was. But most of all, you had no idea how important he would end up being to you.
Right now, Andrea Kimi Antonelli was not just a name your English teacher had given you after your first class anymore.
Almost four years later, Kimi Antonelli was quite literally your favourite person on Earth. He was your confident, your ally, your partner, your everything. And if being there with him right now as you were having a party with all your friends to celebrate the end of your high school years meant that you had to go through living as a Leclerc once again, then you’d do it in a heartbeat. Because there was no world in which you wouldn’t rather be here, feeling free and happy with Kimi beside you.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 bonus 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
“You know, it’s still weird to me that you drove an F1 car before even getting your actual driver’s licence.”
“It wasn’t a requirement anymore from the FIA”, Kimi said with a shrug. “But at least I can finally get it during winter break.”
“Yeah, and then you’ll be able to drive me around whenever you’re home.”
“So you just want to exploit me?”
“Well, duh. I was born to be a passenger princess”, you stated.
“And I guess I still won’t be able to get the aux even if I’m the one driving?”
“Exactly”, you confirmed with a nod. “You’re a fast learner.”
“I know you too well by now,” Kimi claimed.
“Confident, are we, Mr. Antonelli?” You teased.
“Always when it comes to you,” he replied. “Wish me luck to finally become your personal chauffeur?”
“Good luck, Kimi.” The smile you were harbouring on your face was nothing but genuine, and you knew that Kimi would pass his exam with flying colours. You were about to turn away from him as it was soon time for his exam, but Kimi caught your wrist. “What?” You wondered, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Just saying good luck won’t work”, he argued with a slight pout.
Kimi’s gaze on you was intense, and it took you a few seconds before you understood what he meant. With a sigh and a knowing smile on your face, you took a step towards him before quickly kissing him.
“Better?” You asked after pulling back.
Kimi closed the gap between you once again, this time kissing you longer.
“Now, it is.” He had a proud grin on his face, finally satisfied by the good-luck kiss he had been wanting from you.
“You’re dumb,” you told him.
“But you still love me.”
“Yeah, I do.” Rolling your eyes at him, you took a step back to let him know that you would actually leave this time. “Now go get that license, shoo!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
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Thank you for reading, i hope y'all enjoyed it!!
I was already finding my 18k words liam fic crazy, but this one is 23k like wtf🧍🏻♀️ it has truly been a long time coming but better late than ever, right?😭 (also tumblr was being a BITCH so it took a while to finish the editing on here)
Please, don't hesitate to tell me your fav part(s) bc there's sm going on in the fic and I'd love to know which moment really got your attention👀
Next thing on the schedule is grid mum 11 & 12 (& 13 & 14 if we're being honest bc I'm so behind lol) so stay tuned for those<3
See you soon, take care of yourselves, love y'all xx
-blush pink / lando norris
Warnings: smut; mdni 18+
Words: 2k
-Lando has a special wish for his birthday, well ... a special colour
Hope you enjoy it!
Love you guys, Magdi <3
MASTERLIST
“Lando, you’re ridiculous.” You scoff as your boyfriend tells you his idea for your next set of nails.
“No, baby, listen to me. I swear to god it’s going to look so sexy!” Lando pleads. Every year, he gets to choose the nails you should get for his birthday. And every year, it’s the same typical neon yellow and black design to match his current helmet.
Well, not this year…
“Lando, for the last time, I’m not going to paint my nails the same colour as your dick.”
“But why nooot?” he tries again, looking at you with those big brown eyes.
“Because it’s weird, and what if someone finds out about it? I would die from embarrassment!” you try to reason, but with no luck. He keeps bugging you the entire day with his “brilliant idea.”
And that’s how you find yourself in your nail salon the next day, trying to colour-match a very specific shade of blush pink. You don’t know if your nail tech knows what’s going on, but the slight smirk on her lips gives you a very clear answer — and you want to die all over again.
The thing is, Lando is currently away racing, so he won’t see the nails until he comes home on his birthday, which you know will drive him nuts.
You guessed correctly. The sound of your phone interrupts your train of thought on your way home.
Message from: Lan❤️ Baby, pleaseee send a pic of your nails, I’m dying to know what they look like…
You: Don’t be so impatient. These are your birthday nails, so you’ll have to wait ;)
Message from: Lan❤️ You’re evil. Actually evil.
You spend the next two days preparing for his birthday, occasionally admiring your nails. You have to give Lando some credit — the colour is pretty.
Today is the day: November 13th, Lando’s birthday. And now that he could walk through your front door any minute, you’re honestly getting nervous. The table is set with his presents, the balloons are ready, and the candles on the cake are waiting to be lit.
You try to distract yourself by fixing a few details in the decoration when the door opens. You turn to see a very tired but happy-looking Lando standing in the doorway.
“Happy birthday, baby!” You rush over to him, engulfing him in a big hug.
“Aww, thank you, babe. It looks absolutely amazing in here — you’ve outdone yourself.” His voice is muffled by your shoulder as he cuddles himself deeper into your embrace.
The moment would have been incredibly cute… but then your boyfriend ruins it by grabbing your hands to inspect your manicure with such focus that you have to stifle a laugh.
Your smile fades as you feel Lando tighten his grip on your hands. The soft glint in his eyes is replaced with a dark, lustful gaze — a gaze he reserves only for the bedroom.
“The whole weekend I imagined how your nails would look… how they’d look wrapped around me… how they’d look painted with my cum.”
Shivers race down your spine as Lando whispers the words into your ear, before planting hot, open-mouthed kisses just beneath it.
You free your hands from his possessive grip and wrap your slightly shaky arms around his strong neck, needing something to hold onto. Your fingers grip his short curls as Lando finds a special spot below your earlobe, drawing a whimper from you.
“Mhm, baby, you like that?”
All you can do is gasp as Lando continues kissing along your jaw, under your ear… biting, sucking, claiming.
“Fuck, I was going insane these past days,” he groans into your skin.
You don’t get a chance to respond before Lando lifts you off the ground, his hands gripping your thighs so hard you know it’ll leave bruises. He pushes you against the nearest wall and crashes his lips against yours.
Gripping his hoodie, you moan into his mouth as your tongues fight for dominance — a fight Lando clearly wins.
“Shit,” he groans into your mouth, grinding his hips into yours. Slow. Hard. Making sure you feel how hard he is. “M’so obsessed with you… you have no idea.”
You whimper, wrapping your legs tighter around his hips, grinding against him to get some friction.
“Fuck, Lando, I need you,” you whimper, the heat between your legs becoming impossible to ignore.
“What do you need from me, hm?” Lando teases. He knows exactly what you need — he’s just as desperate, if not more.
You avoid his hungry eyes as your cheeks heat up. Suddenly, his hand is on your chin, gently guiding your gaze back to him.
“Aww, did you get shy all of a sudden?” he coos, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb before slipping it into your mouth.
You swirl your tongue around his thumb, sucking it like you would his cock. Releasing it with a soft pop, you let out a quiet moan.
“Please, Lan… need you to fuck me,” you whimper. Lando’s cock twitches in his pants, and a low growl escapes him.
“Shit, babe. That’s all you had to say.”
You don’t even make it to the bedroom. Lando lays you down on the sofa, grinding into you once more before sitting up and patting his thighs.
“Come on. If you want it that bad, you gotta work for it.”
Without hesitation, you crawl over to him, your hands working quickly to free him from his pants and boxers. Lando sucks in a sharp breath as his dick springs free and hits his stomach. Smirking, you climb into his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs as you wrap your hand around him, feeling him twitch.
Lando feels like he could cum immediately. Seeing your blush-pink nails wrapped around his tip makes him moan loudly. Even he has to admit — the colour match is perfect. Picasso would have loved that.
You continue jerking him off as you lean down to kiss him, messy and desperate. Lando’s hands grip the back of the couch so tightly his knuckles turn white.
“Shit, babe, I’m about to cum,” he groans, removing your hands. “Need to cum inside you.”
Before you can reply, Lando lifts you and positions you on your knees on the couch, facing the backrest, your hands gripping it for dear life.
You feel the cushions dip as he kneels behind you. His big hands trace up your thighs, your skin burning beneath his touch.
His breath ghosts over your neck as he pushes your dress up and removes it, revealing the blush-pink lingerie you bought especially for today.
You glance over your shoulder to see Lando practically drooling. The set hugs your curves perfectly, the colour glowing against your skin.
“Shit, baby… I don’t know how I got so lucky. You look gorgeous,” he breathes, his hands roaming your body.
You whimper loudly as he squeezes your breasts through the fabric, then pulls the cups down to pinch your nipples tightly. Your panties are already soaked. His hands slide down your body and halt just above your panty line, earning him an impatient whine.
Chuckling, he slips his hand into your panties, brushing your clit.
“God, you’re soaked… I haven’t even touched you properly yet,” he growls, slowly pushing a finger into your aching pussy.
His free arm wraps around your torso while he fingers you, drawing moan after moan from you.
“L-Lando… p-please,” you stammer. His fingers feel heavenly, but nothing compares to the stretch of his cock.
“Please what, love?” He adds a second finger, making you scream as he hits your G-spot.
“N-need your d-dick… please, Lan!”
“Well, how can I say no when you ask so nicely?” he teases, withdrawing his fingers and ripping your panties off.
“Lan! They were expensive!”
“Don’t worry. I’ll buy you ten new pairs.”
He kneels behind you again, stroking himself before sliding his tip through your folds to gather your wetness. He brushes your clit a few times, loving the way your body jolts.
Once he’s coated in your wetness, he pushes into you slowly, not stopping until he bottoms out. Both of you moan.
He gives you a few moments before he begins to thrust, gripping your waist to pull you back into him.
“Shit, L-Lando… s-so good,” you slur, drunk on pleasure.
The sound of skin hitting skin fills the room as he picks up the pace.
“Perfect fuckin’ pussy… my pussy… made for me,” he growls, biting your earlobe and marking your neck.
Lando’s brutal pace has your thighs trembling.
“Don’t even think about it — you can’t hide from me.” He pries your legs open and pushes you down, arching your back so he hits your sweet spot perfectly.
“F-fuck, Lan — right there!” you scream.
Feeling you tighten, Lando pistons into you faster, desperate to make you cum. One hand slides to your lower stomach, pressing down hard.
Your orgasm builds rapidly — impossibly intense. You don't even manage to warn him before you explode, squirting all over both of you.
You’re too far gone to understand what happened, but Lando knows exactly — and the feeling of your release triggers his. His eyes roll back as he cums hard, spilling into you with stuttering hips and a loud groan.
When you finally catch your breath, embarrassment floods you. You hide your face in your hands.
“M’sorry… I didn’t know I could do that,” you mumble.
“Fuck, baby, don’t apologise. That was the hottest thing ever. Best birthday present.” He soothes you, slowly pulling out.
Seeing his cum drip out of you, mixed with your own mess, nearly makes him hard again.
“Happy birthday, Lan,” you say softly, glancing over your shoulder.
“Yeah… happy fucking birthday to me.
LANDO NORRIS MASTERLIST
Requests (are open at the moment)
-Little Update October 11th 2023
-(Not so) Quiet Evenings october 30th 2023
-A Christmas in Monaco december 9th 2023
-That damm skiing december 9th 2023
-Be my Valentine? february 17th 2024
-Daddy Won april 21st 2024
-Soft Mornings december 12th 2024
-Rompers Strollers and so much more January 19th 2025
-It has always been you january 23rd 2025
-A Piece Of Us november 12th 2025
-Sick Boi november 17th 2025
-Blush Pink {S} november 20th 2025
-sick boi / lando norris
Warnings: sick and clingy lando
Words: 1k
Request: Nope
-It's flu season! So I thought let's celebrate by giving Lando the flu and letting reader take care of him.
Love you guys! Magdi <3
MASTERLIST
‘“Y/NNNNN!”
You’ve heard that familiar voice for the fifth time today — and it’s only 1 p.m. You can already picture him: a mop of brown curls sticking out from under two hoodies and a mountain of blankets, cheeks flushed, eyes glossy, looking every bit like the kicked puppy he probably feels like.
Lando came home from Brazil with a cold, and he’s doing everything in his power to make sure the entire world — and you — know just how miserable he is.
Letting out a quiet sigh, you place your laptop beside you and get up from your very comfortable spot on the couch. Padding softly toward your shared bedroom, you grab another pack of tissues on the way — just in case. The last three times he called you, it was because he “ran out.”
The scene that greets you when you push open the bedroom door could win an award. Most of your pillows are scattered across the floor, tissues are everywhere — literally everywhere — and somehow a few have made their way into your plant pots. You still have no idea how he managed that.
In the middle of the bed lies a blanket-covered creature, barely resembling a human. You try to stifle your laugh as a very dramatic sniff comes from inside the fabric cave.
“Lando? Baby, you in there somewhere?”
A muffled voice replies, thick with congestion. “Mhmm… sniff b-baby… sniff I’m s-so cold… sniff.”
It’s extremely hard to take him seriously when all you can see is one lonely curl sticking out of the blankets.
“Aww, my poor little penguin,” you tease, gently peeling back a layer of covers until his pouty face comes into view.
“Noooo sniff, why would you do thaaat?” he whines, lower lip sticking out dramatically. With his pink cheeks and watery eyes, he looks more like an upset toddler than a 26-year-old Formula One driver.
“Lando, you need air, otherwise you’re going to suffocate,” you laugh, running your fingers through his curls. He melts instantly, leaning into your touch with something close to a purr.
“Can you come sniff lay with me? You’re the only thing that can keep me warm…”
You try. You genuinely try to resist. You have a million things to do, and the last thing you need is to get sick — but then he looks up at you with those big brown teddy-bear eyes. And really… how are you supposed to walk away from that?
Acting annoyed, you let out an exaggerated sigh and motion for him to move.
“I swear, if you make me sick, I’m going to kill you.”
He doesn’t even bother answering. Instead, he crawls into your arms and lies completely on top of you, getting comfortable like a clingy cat.
“Don’t worry,” he mumbles into your neck, “I’m just gonna kiss you a few times.”
“No. No, no, no kisses until you’re germ-free.” You block his mouth with your hand as he tries to aim for your lips.
“Lando yes,” he counters — and before you can react, he grabs your wrist and attacks your face with tiny, rapid-fire kisses.
“Ahh! Stop!” you squeal, laughing as you try to wriggle away.
Luckily, he’s nowhere near full strength, so after a minute of chaotic affection, he collapses on top of you with a dramatic groan.
“Mpf. I’m dead now. That was exhausting.”
“Oh really? What happened to my professional athlete?” you tease.
“He’s very poor and very sick…” he mutters, already burrowing back into your chest.
You giggle softly and continue stroking his hair, feeling his breathing slowly even out as he settles. The room grows quiet, warm, peaceful — and despite the chaos and the tissues and the dramatic whining, your heart feels full.
-The next morning
For the first time in two days, the apartment is quiet. Too quiet. Lando blinks awake, stretching lazily, and realises — amazingly — that he actually feels… good. His head doesn’t feel stuffed with cotton anymore, his throat isn’t scratchy, and his nose is finally, blissfully clear.
“I’m alive!” he whispers dramatically to himself, grinning as he sits up.
He’s halfway out of bed when the bathroom door swings open.
And there you are. Looking like death warmed up.
Hair a mess, nose red, eyes glassy, wrapped in one of his hoodies like a gremlin that has seen things no human should ever see.
You stare at him. He stares back. The silence is deadly.
“…morning, baby,” he offers carefully.
You sniff — loudly — then narrow your eyes at him with pure betrayal.
“I hate you,” you croak.
Lando’s mouth drops open. “What? What did I do—?”
“You infected me,” you accuse, pointing a dramatic, shaky finger at him like you’re reenacting a crime scene reveal. “I told you I didn’t want to get sick! I told you, Lando!”
He winces, guilt immediately written all over his face. “Okay, in my defense, you looked really warm and comfortable and I needed cuddles—”
“Congratulations,” you grumble, shuffling past him like a grumpy little zombie. “Your cuddles were contagious.”
He rushes after you, hands out. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
“You should be,” you mutter, grabbing a box of tissues like it’s your emotional support animal. “I look like the crypt keeper.”
“You look adorable,” he insists quickly. “Like… like a very cute lil’… sick… goblin?”
You glare. Hard.
He flinches. “Wrong word choice. Terrible word choice.”
You flop onto the couch with a groan dramatic enough to win an award. “I swear, Norris, I’m never cuddling you again.”
He immediately wraps a blanket around your shoulders and crouches in front of you.
“That’s a lie,” he says softly, brushing a curl away from your forehead. “But I’m gonna spend the whole day taking care of you anyway.”
You sniff. “You better.”
He smiles — that soft, heart-melting smile — and presses the gentlest kiss to your temple.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I’m your personal nurse now.”
“And your first job,” you say, pointing to the kitchen like a queen giving orders, “is tea.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Lando marches off dramatically, nearly tripping over the blanket pile from yesterday, and despite your misery… you can’t help but smile.
Because even sick, even grumpy… you’re still his. And he’s absolutely wrapped around your finger.
-------
Hope you enjoyed it !! ❤️
- a piece of us / lando norris
Warnings: none, potentially baby fever
Words: 1.4k
Reading Time: 5min 38sec
Request: nope
-You wished for Lando Norris here it is, I had this idea still in my drafts and so many people asked me if I could continue this little series so I hope you enjoy this ! Can be read as a standalone though <33
Love you guys Magdi <3
You will never forget the look on Lando’s face when he saw your baby on the ultrasound screen for the first time - the way his eyes turned glossy, the way his front teeth peeked out because his smile was so wide his cheeks must’ve hurt for days afterwards. The almost inaudible, shaky breath he let out - quiet enough for the world to miss, but not for you.
And you can’t really judge him; you weren’t much better yourself. The cold trace of your tears on your cheeks was a constant reminder - a reminder that a piece of you and Lando was growing inside you. A piece of you both that you saw for the first time that day.
When you left the doctor’s office, your heart was racing with excitement - and fear, too, if you were being honest - but mostly excitement for this new chapter of your life. Clutched tightly in your hands were the first ultrasound scans of the tiny life you and Lando had created together.
That day was four months ago. Now, with a hand on your small but mighty little bump - a habit you developed every time you tried to concentrate - you wander around your apartment in Monaco, searching for those very same scans. Lando is in Brazil, and while he’s away, you wanted to start a scrapbook - a collection of milestones from your pregnancy, something to look back on in the years to come.
But as the minutes pass, your hope of actually starting the scrapbook today grows smaller. You’ve checked every drawer, cupboard, and closet you could reach - nothing. Defeated, you sink onto the couch, flick on the TV to watch qualifying, and try to get your pregnancy brain to remember where on earth those scans could be.
---
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, Lando sits in his driver’s room, mentally preparing for qualifying.
“Five more minutes, mate!” one of his mechanics calls through the door.
“Yeah, I’ll be out soon! Gimme a sec!” he shouts back, wanting just a few extra minutes to look at the object in his hands.
His fingers trace the smooth surface of the photo, following every soft curve of the little black-and-white shape captured on it. He studies every tiny detail as if the image weren’t already engraved in his mind.
The day he left for his first race after the scan, he’d quietly slipped the photo into his wallet while you weren’t looking - wanting something to keep him close to home, close to *you* and the little family you were building together. Whenever the pressure, nerves, or loneliness hit him, he’d retreat to his driver’s room and take out the picture. Looking at it calmed him - reminded him that there was something beyond racing, something that mattered even more. A future. A family. Something he’d love and protect for the rest of his life, long after he retired.
A knock on the door pulled him back to reality. Carefully tucking the photo back into the safety of his wallet, he grabbed his helmet, ready to fight for pole position - ready to drive for the family waiting for him back home.
---
To say that Brazil was a successful weekend would be the understatement of the century. A double pole and a double win - it was the kind of weekend most drivers could only dream of. Still, instead of celebrating like he usually would, Lando boarded the first flight home. His trophies rested in the seat beside him, gleaming under the cabin lights, but his attention was fixed on the little ultrasound photo in his hand.
It was worn now, edges slightly bent from how often he’d held it. But as he looked at it, exhaustion melted into warmth. He wasn’t thinking about podiums, or champagne, or headlines - just about getting home. About holding you. About finally seeing the little life that had already changed everything.
The front door clicked open just past midnight. The soft thud of a suitcase echoed against the wooden floor, followed by a deep exhale - Lando has been waiting for this moment ever since he left.
Before he could even drop his bag, you were already there, bare feet padding across the floor, heart hammering in your chest. The second his eyes met yours, the world seemed to still. He immediately opened his arms, engulfing your figure into the biggest hug.
“Missed you,” he mumbled against your hair, his voice low and soft, and you felt the weight of the words sink into your chest. His hands came to rest on your bump, thumbs brushing slow, careful circles over the fabric of your shirt.
“Missed you too,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw before leaning up to kiss him - slow, familiar, full of everything that words couldn’t carry.
When he finally leaned down, his lips met yours in a kiss that tasted like relief - soft, unhurried, and full of everything neither of you had been able to say over the phone. For a long moment, there were no race weekends, no headlines, no championship battle - just the two of you and the quiet heartbeat beneath your joined hands.
Later that night, while he showered, you went to grab his wallet from the counter. You needed his credit card to order dinner - neither of you had the energy to cook - but when you opened it, something small and worn caught your eye.
Folded gently behind his ID, worn at the edges, there it was, the ultrasound photo. The one you’d been searching for. He carried through every race, every flight, every late-night briefing. The paper was soft from use, the faint outline of the baby slightly smudged from where his thumb had traced it over and over again.
You didn’t say anything when he came back. Instead, you tucked the photo carefully back into its slot, then slipped away to the living room where you had the newer ultrasound pictures from your last appointment. You picked one, flipped it over, and grabbed a pen.
In your neat, slightly messy handwriting, you wrote:
Go Daddy, I’m rooting for you! xx
You slid it into his wallet right behind the first one, closed it as if nothing had changed, and smiled to yourself.
-----
One week later - Las Vegas, Nevada
The city pulsed outside his hotel window, a kaleidoscope of neon light and noise, but inside his driver’s room, everything was still.
Lando sat in the corner, earbuds dangling loosely around his neck, head bowed over his wallet - his small, quiet ritual before qualifying.
He pulled out the ultrasound photo, running a thumb along the edges — but this time, another one slipped out behind it. He frowned for a moment, then turned it over.
The message stopped him cold.
Go Daddy, I’m rooting for you!! xx
He let out a quiet laugh - the kind that shakes on its way out - and leaned back in his chair, staring at the photo as a warmth spread through his chest. For a long moment, he just sat there, smiling to himself like an idiot.
He grabbed his phone without thinking.
It rang once. Twice. Then your sleepy voice filled his ear. “Lando? What time is it?”
He couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips. “Doesn’t matter. I found your note.”
You chuckled softly, half embarrassed, half amused. “So you weren’t supposed to find it yet.”
“Well, I did,” he said, voice low, thick with emotion. “And I think it’s the best good luck charm I’ve ever had.”
You smiled, eyes crinkling. “Then go make your little fan proud.”
“I will,” he murmured. There was a pause — that quiet, familiar silence that always felt full, never empty. “I love you.”
“Love you more,” you said softly. “We both do.”
He didn't want to hang up so soon, wanting to keep hearing your sleepy voice, but he had a race to win and a trophy to bring back to you two.
He smiled again, holding the two ultrasound photos together for a moment before tucking them safely back into his wallet. Then, with a deep breath and a heart fuller than ever, he grabbed his helmet and headed out - ready to race, not just for himself, but for his family waiting back home.
------
If you have any wishes for this story please let me know in the comments or write a request ❤️
Do you guys prefer 2nd or 3rd person stories? Let me know !!❤️
I‘m baaack ( well Kind of )
Uhhhh … Hiii 😅 so I‘m incredibly sorry for disappearing (again), in my defence I have very good reasons I graduated and got my drivers license (finally) on top of that I got a job now and have to prepare for university.
Which means I sadly don’t have the time to write for everybody on my page, so you can decide for who I should write:
Who shall it be?
Lando Norris
Gavi
Pedri
Ben Shelton
Somebody else … (drop a comment)
It'll be fun they said?
Lando Norris x reader
summary- where Lando and you film 'I Ate and Trained Like Lando Norris for 24 Hours' and it turned into a mess
1.5k words
Lando and a few of the other Quadrant members had been quietly planning this for weeks. With the chaos of Lando's F1 schedule, races, media obligations, and simulator sessions, they had to coordinate dates, group chats filled with calendars, and more than one reschedule. But somehow, everything had finally aligned. Today was the day.
You and Lando had gotten up early to make sure the apartment was clean and camera-ready, everything that was not meant for the public was hidden anything remotely embarrassing was swiftly shoved into closets or under the bed. Lando double-checked that the interview area was up to his standards, and every helmet was precisely aligned on the shelf behind the chair
Once the apartment was up to standard, you retreated back to bed. You were never up this early, you loved your sleep too much. You flopped onto the duvet, thumb scrolling through TikTok, ignoring the growing murmur of voices drifting in from the living room. You really didn't want to be in the video because you knew how many comments would be about you and people hating on you for the smallest things
Lando had poked his head into the bedroom "You okay in here?" Lando said from the doorway of your room, "Yeah", you muttered back, putting on a hoodie over the top of your sports bra and leggings. You added some socks, not particularly keen on your bare feet making an appearance on camera. Lando held out his hand for you, interlocking your fingers and making your way to the kitchen
You said hello to everyone, giving both Ethan and Morgan a quick side hug before naturally drifting back to Lando’s side. He was already in host mode, grinning as he reached into the fridge. "So on today’s menu is apple cinnamon with pecan overnight oats," Lando said, reaching into the fridge and getting out three containers. Ethan eyed the mush with genuine concern. "Mate, that looks like you ate breakfast and then threw it up." The group fell into conversation while you cut up some fruit and added it to a bowl of yogurt
Once everyone had eaten breakfast or at least tried to, the video cut to the boys in the workout room. Cameras were repositioned, mics were adjusted, and the guys got ready to sweat. You stood off to the side, out of frame but close enough to help if needed, arms crossed and a faint smile tugging at your lips. "Normally, there are a few bands in here, they might be in our bedroom", Lando muttered. The last bit, both Ethan and Morgan looked at you as your face went slightly red
"You dirty bastards", Morgan said as he looked over at you. You shook your head. Soon, Lando returned with the band hanging loosely around his shoulders. he showed the boys how to do a pushup and then judged both of their forms.
"Okay, now we are going to hop into neck training", Lando said with way too much excitement. Both boys looked at him like he was insane. Lando first showed them how to sit on the bench and where to hold. Ethan was up first, and he was scared "You guys wanted to do this video", you said as you saw Ethan shaking as Lando pulled on his neck
After about 10 minutes, it was Morgan's turn. "This better not pop my head off," Morgan muttered, settling into position. "You’ll be fine," Lando assured him, grinning as he fastened the strap around Morgan’s forehead. "You’ve got a thick skull anyway." Morgan groaned dramatically. "If I wake up tomorrow and can’t move my neck, I’m suing all of you",
"Your turn now, Lando ", Ethan said while sitting on the floor rolling his neck. You had helped land multiple times with his neck training, so once Lando was set up and ready, you held the handle and slightly pulled to create some tension, and then you pulled
"Bro you neck is so vainy almost looks like my dick" Ethan commented which made all of you burst out into the laughter, Lando let out a sharp, surprised bark of laughter, the strap snapping off his head as he broke form completely. Even Morgan, who’d just been dreading his turn, was wheezing in the corner.
While everyone was in the living room waiting for Lando to be ready for the cryotherapy bit of the video, you and Lando were in the hallway near your shared room, Lando had tried talking you into going to cryotherapy, but you kindly declined that offer real quick, something about standing in a freezing cold room, with just a bikini on, and people watching you made you feel anxious.
"But you said you would film with us", Lando pouted, but you just shook your head. "I already told you no, that I would join in for breakfast and the workout, but nothing more. I have work I need to do, plus it's not something I feel comfortable doing" You said in a low tone, making sure nobody could hear you guys having a disagreement
"No one’s gonna be filming you like that," he said under his breath. "It’s part of the video. It’s fun." He added while trying to bring you into a hug
You glanced around to make sure the crew wasn’t in earshot before you answered, your tone low but firm. "Maybe it’s fun for you. For me, it’s anxiety. I don’t like the idea of being in that kind of vulnerable position, especially not on camera. I’m not asking you to understand it, just respect it." For a second, it looked like he might push again. But then his lips pressed into a thin line, and he looked away.
"Yeah, fine, whatever", Lando snapped and walked away, rejoining the group. You heard him grab his keys, and everyone followed. You could hear Ethan asking about you and Lando replying with Don't worry. The door shut behind them, and the apartment fell into a silence so complete it made your ears ring.
You felt off, like you were letting Lando down. With a deep breath, you made your way into the home office you had set up in Landos' streaming room. You sank down onto your chair, opening your laptop and replying to emails. You were so focused on your emails, you didn't realize the time, and suddenly the front door opened and the apartment was filled with chaos again.
You tried to drown out the noise and focused on your work, but soon you heard footsteps approaching. Then a knock, quick, but not really waiting for permission. "Hey," Lando said, already halfway through the door. "I need the room. We’re setting up the simulator bit now."
You paused, blinking at him. "Can I just finish this?" you said, pointing at your screen where you had multiple tabs open. "I told you we were using the room today," he said, his tone clipped and impatient. "Just for a bit. I need it."
You stared at him, the words hitting harder than they should have. You’d built that little corner for yourself, made space in his world without asking for much. And now, you felt like a guest in your own home. "Fine," you murmured, too tired to argue. You shut your laptop, gathered your charger, and made your way to your bedroom, silent, but not unnoticed.
You sat on the edge of the bed and reopened your laptop, trying to settle back into work, but the energy was gone. You saved all your work before opening up Netflix and putting on one of your comfort shows and lying down. About 20 minutes into the show, your bedroom door opened "The boys are leaving for their surprise, if you want to say goodbye to them", Lando said in a harsh tone
You sat up and quickly walked out of the room to find Morgan, Ethan and the camera crew standing by the front door "Hope you boys had fun," you said quickly, now in a more anxious bubble where you now felt closer to an anxiety attack. You stood next to Lando, waving goodbye as they walked out of the apartment,
As soon as the front door closed you hurried back to the comfort of your room, Lando followed and tried pulling you into a hug "fuck off" You snap now your hands were shaking and you knew in less than 5 seconds you were about to go into anxiety attack "gladly" Lando said walking away to his streaming room, all you could do was sit on the floor of your room and cry while Lando was gaming with Max...
please reblog and like 🫶
all of me (loves all of you)
Pairing: Lando Norris x reader
Summary: When the podium isn’t enough to quiet his self-doubt, you remind Lando that love isn’t earned by perfection — it’s already his, always.
Word count: 2.7k+
Warnings: fluff, self doubt
A/N:
English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.
Happy reading xxx
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.
Bahrain was finally quiet. The grandstands, once alive with cheers and chants, had long fallen silent. The floodlights still burned bright against the ink-black sky, but the world beneath them felt hollow now — empty seats, scattered tire marbles littering the track, and the faint, lingering scent of burnt rubber riding on the dry desert breeze.
But none of that seemed to reach Lando. He sat slumped on the padded bench tucked into the far corner of the McLaren hospitality suite, as still as if the world had stopped moving around him. His race suit, half unzipped and limp around his waist, clung to him like the weight of the entire day had settled into the fabric. His hands rubbed over his face again and again, palms dragging slow and hard like he was trying to scrub away more than sweat — like he could erase the whole day if only he rubbed hard enough.
You stood by the door, frozen for a moment, watching the man you loved fall apart piece by piece in front of you. There was something especially painful in the quiet — no cameras, no interviews, no engineers offering consolation or stats. Just Lando and the crushing, invisible battle playing out in his head.
Slowly, you crossed the room. Your footsteps were soft, but the hush was so deep that even the sound of your breath felt too loud. You lowered yourself to your knees in front of him, placing a careful hand on his knee, your thumb brushing the edge of the scuffed fabric.
“Lando…” you tried, voice barely above a whisper.
But he didn’t lift his head. His eyes stayed locked on the floor, unfocused and distant, and when he spoke, his voice was low, flat, and bitter.
“I shouldn’t be happy about today. I don’t deserve to be.”
Your heart clenched at the sharp edges in his tone. You knew how hard he’d fought — you’d seen every lap, every desperate overtake, every second shaved from the gap on the timing screen. And yet here he sat, wrapped up in the belief that it wasn’t enough.
“You finished P3. You made the podium,” you said softly, your fingers curling around his knee, grounding him. “That’s not nothing, Lando.”
He let out a dry, humorless laugh, the sound empty and sharp enough to cut through you.
“A podium because I got lucky with the safety car and half the grid got their strategy wrong,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “I couldn’t even nail the start. Simple thing. I messed that up too.”
You shifted closer, your hand moving up to trace the deep furrow that had carved its way between his brows. His skin was warm under your touch, but the tension there was iron-strong, unyielding.
“You fought your way through the field,” you whispered. “You didn’t give up. Not even with the penalty hanging over you. You drove your heart out today.”
His eyes flicked up at last, meeting yours, but there was a distance behind them — like he wasn’t really here, like his mind was still out there on the track, replaying every lap on loop, cataloging each mistake.
“It’s not enough,” he said, barely audible. “I’m not enough.”
Your throat tightened at the weight those words carried, the way he seemed to believe them so completely.
“Baby,” you murmured, sliding your hand into his, lacing your fingers through his even though his grip didn’t return the squeeze. “Why are you so hard on yourself?”
He leaned back against the cold wall, his head tipping back, exhaling the kind of breath that sounded like it had been trapped in his chest for hours.
“Because I don’t feel like the guy people think I am,” he admitted quietly. “Everyone looks at me like I’m some future world champion. Like I’m supposed to be special. But every race I just... prove I’m not. I sit in the car and I tell myself I believe — I force myself to believe — but the second something goes wrong, it’s like... I can’t hold onto it. It slips away before I even cross the finish line.”
Your thumb brushed slow circles over the back of his hand, but his shoulders stayed rigid, braced against something you couldn’t fight for him.
“You know I see you, right?” you said after a long silence. “Really see you. Not the results. Not the press. Just you. And I’ve never thought you were anything less than enough.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a second you thought the words might reach him, but he only shook his head, voice cracking as it spilled out.
“You see the best parts of me,” he said, barely more than a whisper. “But I don’t deserve it. I let everyone down. I let him down.”
You blinked, puzzled by the shift in his tone. “Who?”
There was a pause, and you watched him swallow hard, his throat working around the words.
“The kid I used to be,” he answered finally, his voice raw and unguarded. “The one who believed this was all going to be worth it.”
And in that moment, you understood. No amount of comfort, no perfectly chosen words, no pep talk could close the space between the boy who dreamed of this life and the man who now sat doubting it all.
Without another word, you stood and crossed the room, grabbing your phone from the side table. Your fingers scrolled through your gallery until you found it — a photo you’d saved long ago. Tiny Lando, crammed into his too-big karting suit, clutching his very first trophy with both hands. His smile stretched from ear to ear, eyes shining with pride and hope, completely untouched by the world that lay ahead.
You walked back to him and placed the phone in his lap, not forcing him to look, not saying a thing.
But when his eyes finally dropped to the screen, you saw the faintest shift in his expression — the crack in the wall he’d built around himself.
“Look at him,” you said softly, your voice steady but tender, anchoring him even as it wavered with your own emotion. “That’s who you’re talking about, isn’t it?”
Lando’s fingers hovered above the screen, barely grazing the edges of the photo. His thumb traced the outline of the little boy — the oversized helmet cradled in his arm, the too-big karting suit swallowing his frame, and that impossibly bright smile stretching across his face. His throat worked around the lump that had lodged there, but the words never came. He just stared, like the past and present had collided in his hands.
“You’re tearing him apart,” you whispered, your voice cracking like your heart had. “Every time you talk like this, every time you convince yourself you’re not enough, you’re not just hurting you. You’re hurting him. That little boy didn’t grow up dreaming of being perfect, Lando. He didn’t care about mistakes or bad days or people doubting him. He just dreamed of racing. Of standing on that podium, wearing McLaren orange, fighting with everything he had until the very last lap.”
You watched his jaw tighten, his lips pressed into a thin, unsteady line, and his eyes glistened under the harsh fluorescent light. His whole body seemed trapped between holding it all in and letting it all go.
“He didn’t care about grid penalties, or if some commentator called it ‘luck’ on the broadcast,” you went on, your hand gently curling around his, grounding him. “All he wanted was to grow up and do the thing he loves. And today... you did that. You did it for him.”
The tear came quietly, slipping free before he could stop it, trailing down his cheek. His hands lifted to his face, palms pressed against his eyes, his voice breaking as it finally slipped free.
“I just...” His words crumbled around the edges. “I don’t feel like I’m good enough. Like, ever. Not on track. Not for the team. Not for you.”
Your chest ached at how raw he sounded, how honest. You reached for him, gently curling your hands around his face, guiding him to meet your eyes. You didn’t let him look away, not this time.
“Hey,” you whispered, your thumbs brushing away the tears as they came. “You are more than enough. For all of us. For me. I don’t love you because you stand on podiums, or because of the stats, or how many people believe in you on the good days. I love you because you’re you. Even the parts that don’t believe they’re worth loving.”
His lips quivered, his shoulders shaking under the weight of everything he’d carried alone for too long. He let out a fragile, unsteady breath, the faintest hint of a smile flickering through the sadness.
“You know...” he said, voice barely holding together, “even when I lose... I’m still winning. Because I’ve got you.”
You leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss — not to erase the ache, not to fix what couldn’t be fixed in a night, but to remind him you were still here. That you always would be. The kiss was slow, steady, the kind that said more than words ever could. When you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against his.
“And you’ve got me,” you whispered against his skin. “Always.”
The room fell quiet again. The world outside the walls of the hospitality suite kept spinning — engineers packing up, transporters rumbling to life, the desert wind sweeping away the last traces of the night. But inside, the quiet was different. His hand stayed wrapped around yours, fingers holding on like he’d finally stopped freefalling, the photo of his younger self still glowing faintly on the phone screen beside him.
Eventually, his head tilted against your shoulder, the weight of the night catching up with him, exhaustion finally tugging at the frayed edges of his posture. His voice was quieter now, stripped of the sharpness from earlier, soft and almost childlike.
“Do you think... he’d be proud of me?” he asked, barely louder than the hum of the air conditioning.
You turned your head, resting your cheek against his hair.
“I know he would,” you murmured. “Because you’ve done everything he dreamed about. And you’re still the same kid at heart — still chasing it, even on the days it hurts.”
Lando’s exhale was slow, and for the first time all night, it wasn’t heavy. Just tired. Just human.
You sat there until the voices outside faded entirely, until only the night remained pressing against the windows, quiet and vast. It was you who finally shifted first, gently squeezing his hand.
“Come on,” you whispered. “Let’s get you out of this suit. You’ve done enough for one night.”
Reluctantly, he let you pull him up from the bench, his body stiff from sitting so long, but when he stood, it was like some invisible part of the weight had lifted. You helped peel the rest of his race suit off, folding it neatly and setting it aside, and he changed into the soft hoodie you’d brought — the one he always reached for when the world felt too loud.
As you both made your way back to the hotel, the silence between you wasn’t heavy anymore. It was easy. His hand found yours again as you walked through the dim, empty corridors, and you could feel the difference in the way he held it — like he was no longer gripping to stay afloat, but just holding on. Because he wanted to.
Later, when the hotel room door clicked shut behind you, he didn’t say much. Just dropped his bag on the floor and sat at the edge of the bed.
“Will you... stay with me a bit longer?” His thumb brushed absentmindedly over your side, almost like he was afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t ask.
You leaned your head against his, answering without hesitation. “Always.”
A long pause followed, his breath steady but his body still tense, like sleep wasn’t ready to fully take him yet. After a while, his voice came again, quieter this time.
“Can we... I don’t know. Just—be close. I don’t wanna think. I just... need you.”
His honesty cracked something new and tender open inside your chest. You tilted your head, pressing a soft kiss against his temple.
“Let’s wash the day off, hm?” you murmured, running your fingers through his curls. “You’ll feel better.”
He nodded slowly, almost childlike in the way he let you guide him off the bed, his hand never leaving yours as you both padded toward the bathroom.
You turned on the shower, waiting for the water to warm as the steam began to curl into the quiet space. When you glanced over your shoulder, Lando was still standing there, hoodie sleeves pushed up slightly, eyes flicking to you and then away like he was still stuck somewhere between the racetrack and the little boy in that photo.
You reached for him again.
“Come here,” you said softly.
He stepped closer, close enough that your hands could slide up beneath the hem of his hoodie, helping him peel it away, and then the rest — each layer like shedding a little more of the doubt clinging to his skin. You slipped out of your own clothes too, and when the water was ready, you guided him in first.
The heat wrapped around both of you, and for a long moment neither of you spoke. You stood chest-to-chest, the sound of the water filling the space, your arms sliding around his waist, holding him steady. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, and you felt the way his chest rose and fell, slow and deep.
“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered into the wet curls at the nape of his neck. “Not tonight.”
But after a few quiet beats, his voice broke through, hoarse but honest.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, brushing your fingers across his cheek. “You didn’t have to do anything to deserve me, Lando. You just have to be you. That’s enough. You’ve always been enough.”
His throat worked around another wave of emotion, and his arms slid around you, holding you tighter now, more grounded.
“You make it easier to believe,” he whispered.
You smiled, pressing a kiss against his damp shoulder. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
The rest of the shower passed like that — quiet, simple touches. Your fingers combed gently through his hair, rinsing the day’s sweat and grime away, while he let his hands trace slow, absent patterns along your back. Not rushed. Not complicated. Just the kind of closeness he’d been aching for, the kind that told him, without words, he wasn’t alone.
When you finally stepped out, you wrapped him in one of the oversized hotel towels, your hands smoothing it over his damp shoulders. He let out a soft, tired laugh under his breath — the kind that wasn’t about being fixed, but about finally breathing a little easier.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, voice scratchy but warm. “For all of this. For you.”
You cupped his face again, gently, looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered. “There’s nothing you could do that would make me stop choosing you. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you.”
He leaned into your touch, eyes closing for a moment, and when he opened them again, the weight in them was still there — but softer, not so sharp.
You climbed into bed together after that, the covers pulled up, his body pressed close to yours, limbs tangled like he couldn’t quite bear to let the space grow between you. His head nestled into the crook of your neck, breath evening out little by little, and as the minutes passed, you felt the tension finally slip from his muscles.
Before sleep finally claimed him, he murmured one last thought against your skin.
“Maybe I’ll start trying to believe it. If you do.”
You smiled, holding him tighter. “I already do. And I’ll keep reminding you until you do too.”
The night settled fully around you both, and this time, it wasn’t silence filled with doubts — it was peace. And even if tomorrow brought the doubts back, for now, this was enough.
And for him, that meant everything.
So so good *chef‘s kiss*
-take care of you / ben Shelton
Warnings: none, flu?
Words: 616
Reading Time: 4min
Request: could you do another where ben takes care of a sick reader? maybe reader takes care of him? also ur writing is so amazing omg
I'm so sorry for not posting for a while but I'm drowning in exams and sadly didn't have the time, but I'll try to write a bit <3
The moment Ben stepped into their apartment, he knew something was wrong. Normally, by this time of day, Y/N would either be curled up on the couch watching something or coming up to greet him. But today, the apartment was eerily quiet.
Frowning, he kicked off his shoes and made his way down the hall, gently pushing open the bedroom door.
Y/N was barely visible under a pile of blankets, only the top of her head and the tip of her nose peeking out. Her face was flushed, her breathing uneven, and when she turned her head slightly to look at him, she let out a hoarse groan.
"Hey, babe," she croaked, her voice scratchy and weak. "I think I’m dying."
Ben's heart clenched at how miserable she looked. He quickly moved to the bed, crouching beside her and brushing a few damp strands of hair from her forehead.
"You’re burning up," he murmured, concern heavy in his voice. "Why didn’t you text me?"
Y/N gave a weak shrug. "Didn’t wanna bother you."
Ben scoffed, shaking his head. "You could never bother me."
She closed her eyes, sniffling, and he pressed a soft kiss to her warm forehead before standing up.
"Alright, you stay here—actually, you don’t really have a choice, you look like you can’t even move. I’m gonna grab some medicine, food, and one of my hoodies. I know you like them when you’re sick."
Y/N hummed in approval, barely able to keep her eyes open.
Ben returned a few minutes later, balancing a glass of water, some flu medicine, a bowl of soup, and one of his thick hoodies—the one she always stole because, as she put it, "it smells like you, and it’s the comfiest thing ever."
He set everything down and carefully helped her sit up. She groaned at the movement, her head falling against his shoulder.
"I feel like a puddle," she muttered.
Ben smiled softly, kissing the top of her head. "You kinda look like one, too."
She attempted to glare at him but was too weak to pull it off.
"Here, take this first," he said, handing her the medicine and the glass of water.
Y/N wrinkled her nose but obediently swallowed the pills, chasing them down with a few sips of water. She groaned at the taste and shuddered.
Ben chuckled. "Yeah, I know. Disgusting. But it’ll help."
He grabbed the hoodie and gently pulled it over her head, helping her slip her arms through the sleeves. Y/N sighed the moment it was on, snuggling into the warm fabric.
"Better?" he asked.
She nodded sleepily. "Smells like you."
Ben grinned. "That’s the point."
Once she had eaten a few spoonfuls of soup, he decided she needed a change of scenery. Carefully, he scooped her up, ignoring her weak protests, and carried her to the couch. He settled in, letting her lay fully on top of him, her cheek resting against his chest.
Y/N let out a long sigh. "This is nice," she mumbled, already half-asleep.
Ben smiled, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing small circles on her back. "Yeah? Want me to rub your head? I know it hurts."
She made a small noise of approval, and Ben gently started massaging her scalp, his fingers threading through her hair in slow, soothing motions. Y/N practically melted against him.
"If I weren’t so sick, I’d marry you for this," she muttered.
Ben chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Good to know."
As she drifted off, Ben kept holding her, massaging her scalp every few minutes, just content to have her close. If he got sick, he got sick. Taking care of her was worth it.
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Hope you enjoyed it !! ❤️🎾
