Summary: When you and Kimi decide to go separate ways (on good terms, of course), life has a way of bringing you back together. Some call this fate, others call this an unintentionally meddling younger sister.
warnings: use of y/n, mild angst, but happy ending.
a/n: divider by @uzmacchiato. also creds to @arshiyuh for helping me write this!! i love you so much pookie dookie and i really really appreciate your help <333
@hannahbananababybanana here you go! Sorry, it took a while
“Is this really happening?” Kimi breathes, tears in his eyes as he gazes at you with devastating longing.
You gulp, looking down at your joined hands. “...yeah,” you whisper brokenly, the same tears and longing reflected in your own eyes.
Your hands still touch between you, fingers struggling to hold onto each other for one more second before you two bid each other a goodbye forever. You had been together for 3 years, and the relationship was unexpectedly ending. It had become increasingly difficult near the end to meet up at all with your busy schedules, opening a gaping chasm between you two that simply could not be filled, no matter how much love and reassurance you poured into it.
“I’m gonna miss you,” he falters, voice catching in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort to swallow back the pain and tears.
You sniffle. “I’m gonna miss you, too, Kimi.”
You muster up as much of a smile as you can manage and hug him. He reciprocates immediately, burying his face in your shoulder and holding on for dear life. There’s an equal amount of desperation in your hold, the urge to never let go of him, but you know that it's for the best. You two had tried your hardest for the past few months to make this work to no avail, and it was taking a mental toll on both of you.
You squeeze tightly once before pulling away. His hands remain on your waist, though as if actively refusing to budge. You let him have it for a few seconds.
“Y/n…?” A voice calls your name, and you and Kimi immediately turn towards it to find Maggie standing in the doorway to Kimi’s bedroom.
You both wipe your tears hastily so she doesn’t see, and you turn towards her with a smile. “Hey!” you say while trying to make your voice sound as normal as possible.
She looks between you and Kimi dubiously, taking in both of your teary eyes, the way Kimi keeps glancing at you as if he’s expecting you to disappear in front of his eyes, the way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and you struggle to keep it up.
“What’s going on?” she asks, slowly stepping into the room.
Kimi clears his throat. “Don’t worry about it, Maggie. I’ll tell you later, okay?”
Maggie ignores him and turns to you instead. “Are you guys breaking up?” she asks you directly.
You look at Kimi for a second, not knowing whether or not you should tell her, but decide she deserves to know. You purse your lips and give a solemn nod. “We are,” you whisper.
A disappointed expression crosses her face before she approaches you and hugs you. You hug back without hesitation, rubbing her back to comfort her and yourself. In the three years you and Kimi had been together, Maggie had become like a little sister to you. While Kimi was at the race, you’d often slide away with Maggie, walking around the paddock, going to hospitality and sipping on something while she happily chatted away about school and her friends. She told you about any issues that usually arise in adolescent friend groups, and you advise her on how best to deal with the situation. It was hurting both of you to know you wouldn’t be that close anymore.
“I’m gonna miss you,” she utters quietly. You squeeze her a bit tighter in response.
As if Kimi’s heart wasn’t already obliterated from losing you, it was even more in shambles now that he realises Maggie is also losing a sister. He put his hands in his pockets, sniffling slightly as he watches you and Maggie with a heavy heart. He reaches out to gently ruffle Maggie’s hair.
Eventually, the two of you pull away, and you sniffle, eyes teary once again. “Hey, just because Kimi and I aren’t together anymore doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends,” you say to Maggie.
“Really?” she asks, eyes alight with hope.
You nod. “You still have my number, don’t you?”
When she affirms, you give her a small, encouraging smile. “Don’t hesitate to reach out to me if you ever need anything or want to talk and feel like you can’t go to anyone else. Whatever you need, I’ve got you, babe.”
She smiles before hugging you again. “Thank you.”
You left the house shortly after, glancing at the house one last time, for you’d made some beautiful memories here that you were leaving behind for good.
A year later, you are in a much better position mentally. You have been thriving in your career and are laser-focused on further building it. It still hurts sometimes, seeing reminders of Kimi, the familiar ache in your chest returning for a brief minute, but you breathe deeply and remind yourself that you broke up for a reason, and it all happened for the best.
Kimi has also been doing incredibly well in F1, being the top contender for the WDC, and you’re proud of him. He is even rumoured to be dating a model, Camilla Michaelson. On some weaker nights, you have spent hours scrolling through the pictures of them together, and while it stings, you’re happy Kimi has moved on. Despite him being your ex, you hold no ill intentions towards him and want him to be happy.
A few months later, the company you work for arranged a work trip to Greece for you. They had another branch in Mykonos, and you were supposed to collaborate with their team. Sometimes, Mrs Antonelli reaches out to ask you how you are doing, and during the last call, you informed her you were going to Greece. Coincidentally, they were there for a wedding at the time as well, so when they found out that you would also be there, they insisted that you stay at the same hotel as them so the four of you, Maggie included, could get breakfast.
“I assure you, darling, Kimi will not be there,” Mrs Antonelli had said on the phone. “Probably too busy running around with that cercatrice d'oro,” she had sounded venomous.
You hadn’t known what the term meant and did not bother to try understanding, simply nodding and accepting her invitation to breakfast. While the thought of chancing a run-in with Kimi and his new girlfriend filled you with immense dread, the anticipation of seeing Mr and Mrs Antonelli and Maggie trumped that vastly.
A day or so after arriving in Greece, you met Kimi’s parents at the breakfast buffet in the private lounge and, as promised, Kimi was nowhere in sight.
“Y/n!” Maggie leaps off her chair and envelopes you in a hug when she sees you walk in.
You happily reciprocate, hugging her tightly.
“Hey, how’ve you been?” you ask brightly.
“The races are not as fun without you,” she replies sadly.
You purse your lips and rub her back. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mags. But I’m sure you’ll find good company in your brother's new girlfriend as well,” you try to sound optimistic.
“Ugh, I hate her,” she says while pulling away, a scowl pulling at her lips.
You chuckle softly and stand up, then walk over to the table to greet Mr and Mrs Antonelli equally as warmly.
“Y/n, it's so good to see you after so long, darling,” Mrs Antonelli says warmly.
“It's good to see you all, too,” you respond with a smile and settle opposite them, next to Maggie.
For the next hour, the four of you enjoy a nice breakfast, catching up on everything that's been happening in your lives. You tell them all about your promotion and why you’re in Greece. They tell you about the wedding they’re attending and how much they miss having you around.
Near the end of the meal, Kimi arrives unexpectedly. He’s walking next to Camilla, talking to her. They seem to be arguing, or at least, in a heated discussion. Her arms are crossed as she angrily looks away after whatever Kimi said. Maggie rolls her eyes when she sees them, muttering something like “not again,” which you don’t catch. When he glances at his parents' table, you lock eyes. Both of you freeze immediately.
“H-hi,” he stutters, shocked. “What are you doing here?”
You quickly avert your gaze, beginning to answer, but Mrs Antonelli beats you to it.
“Oh, Y/n was just sharing a nice meal with us,” she answers brightly. “It was so kind of you to join us,” she directs at you.
You smile at her warmly. “Of course, Mrs Antonelli,” you say and stand up. “Well, I should probably leave. I have to be at work soon.”
Kimi takes a hasty step towards you. “You don’t have to leave because of me,” he says quickly. “You can stay for longer.”
You glance at Camilla for a split second, who is currently looking at you like she’d like to rip your hair out, and pick up your bag. “No, it's getting late. I have to get to work.”
You round the table to hug his parents once again, as well as Maggie. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Camilla shooting daggers at seeing you being so comfortable with Kimi’s family, but you don’t pay it any mind as you bid your farewell and exit quickly.
A couple of days have gone by since the awkward encounter. You have not spoken to Kimi or his parents in this time, busying yourself with work. One evening, on the way home from work, you get a call from Maggie. You frown since she hasn’t called you since you and Kimi broke up, so you know something has to be wrong for her to be reaching out.
“Hello?” you answer.
On the other side, Maggie sounds like she’s crying and upset. She says that she and her parents had a huge fight over something, and she wandered off from the hotel and is now in some random park around the hotel, but can’t find her way back, and she’s scared and doesn’t want to call her parents for fear of them yelling at her even more.
“Hang on there, Mags. I’ll come get you, okay?” you reassure her.
She sniffles on the line. “Okay.”
You hurry as fast as you can to get to the park. You guessed which park she had been talking about since you had been taking your runs there every morning. You arrive at the park a few minutes later, frantically looking around for Maggie. She is seated on a bench, swinging her legs back and forth as she anxiously looks around.
“Maggie!” you sigh in relief as you rush towards her and pull her into you immediately. “God, you scared the daylights out of me!”
“Sorry,” she murmurs apologetically. “I just didn’t wanna call my parents or brother, and you said I could come to you if I felt like I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I’m sorry for worrying you.”
You nod in understanding. “I’m happy you called me, Mags. But you can’t just run away in a strange country when you and your parents argue. It's not safe-” you get cut off by your phone ringing in your hand.
It's Kimi.
“Hello?” you answer, rubbing Maggie’s back to soothe her as much as you can while she rests her head on your arm.
Kimi sounds panicked out of his mind, sounding on the verge of tears as he tells you that Maggie has gone missing and his parents have been looking for her for the past 3 hours.
“I don’t know where she could be, Y/n. Please help us look for her-”
“Kimi, Kimi,” you interrupt him. “Maggie is with me. She’s safe. Don’t worry,” you say as calmly as possible, and Maggie looks at you anxiously as she knows the carnage she left behind. She can hear the panic in Kimi’s voice, the yelling from her parents in the background, and her heart sinks even more.
“She is?” Kimi asks, voice flooding with relief. “Where is she? Let me talk to her.”
Maggie hears this and frantically shakes her head at you with wide eyes.
You hesitate for a second. “A-Actually, how about you calm your parents down, and I take her out for ice cream?” you suggest. “She’s upset because of a fight she had with your parents and doesn’t want to come back right now. I’ll take her out while you calm them down, and I’ll have her back in an hour, tops. Sound good?” Kimi listens patiently while you talk, but you can feel his nervous energy through the phone.
You glance down at Maggie, who had immediately perked up at the mention of ice cream.
He finally sighs in defeat. “Yeah, okay,” he relents. “Just tell me she’s okay.”
You look at her and give her a small smile. “She’s okay,” you respond to Kimi.
When the two of you get back to the hotel, ice cream cone in Maggie’s hand, Mr Antonelli is sitting on the armchair, while Mrs Antonelli is on the bed, and Kimi opens the door for the two of you. His hair is messed up from running his fingers through it, and his eyes are red-rimmed as if he had been crying. He also looks paler than usual. As soon as he sees Maggie, he immediately drops to his knees and hugs her tightly.
“You had us all so scared,” he breathes against her head, pulling back to make sure she’s unharmed.
“I’m sorry,” she says meekly, just as Mr and Mrs Antonelli come to the door to also hug Maggie.
Mrs Antonelli is nearly in tears as she pulls Maggie into her while Mr Antonelli profusely thanks you for keeping her safe and bringing her back.
“It's no problem,” you say with a smile. “She’s like my little sister,” you ruffle her hair gently.
Maggie smiles up at you.
“Say thank you to Y/n, Maggie,” Mr Antonelli says.
“Thank you, Y/n,” Maggie says sincerely and hugs you once again.
“You’re always welcome, babe,” you respond with a smile.
Just then, Camilla enters the room, sighing exasperatedly. “Finally, Maggie! God, you’re so fucking dramatic, running away because of a stupid fight.” She rolls her eyes.
Maggie huffs. “This is why everyone hates you,” she says bluntly.
Camilla gapes. “What the fuck did you just say, you little-”
“Hey!” Kimi interrupts. “Camilla, I think it's best if you leave,” he says as calmly as he can manage at the moment, which is not a lot.
Camilla looks exasperatedly at him and looks like she’s about to argue, but relents as she can see nobody is going to take her side in this situation. “Fine. I’ll see you tonight in my room?”
“Actually…I think you should go home. I’ll book you a ticket for tomorrow morning,” he says, not fully looking at her.
Camilla gapes. “Excuse me?” she asks, offended, hands on her hips. “Is it because of this bitch?” she points an accusatory finger at you.
“Do not!” Kimi yells, sending her a warning glare. “Don’t bring her into this. This is between you and me.”
You watch with wide eyes since you have literally never seen Kimi mad. He has always been the sweetest boy you’ve known, respectful of everyone around him and has never raised his voice menacingly.
Suddenly, you start feeling out of place, seeing as this is clearly a couple's fight and you should not bear witness to it. “Well…” you start, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “I’m gonna…” You point down the hallway. “Good night,” you say uncomfortably.
As you turn around to leave, Kimi reaches out for your arm. “Wait, Y/n!” he says hurriedly, voice back to soft. “Can I see you in the lobby in 30 minutes?” You hesitate but nod and quickly take your leave, not wanting to be there any longer.
You head back to your room and shed your work clothes, donning a simple pair of grey sweatpants and a navy blue t-shirt. You wash your face, cleansing yourself of the stressful events of the day, and pull your hair back into a ponytail. Thirty minutes later, you head down to the hotel lobby, where Kimi is already waiting for you.
He stands up as he sees you come in, fidgeting with his hands. “Hey,” he says softly. “Thanks for coming to see me.”
You give a polite smile, not really making eye contact. “Of course.”
Kimi looks nervous and keeps glancing at you every couple of seconds. “Thanks for what you did for Maggie today. Thank you for being there for her and keeping her safe. Means a lot to all of us.”
You nod. “I’ll always be there for her.”
Kimi nods. A couple of minutes go by with neither of you saying anything before Kimi breaks the silence. “Camilla and I broke up,” he blurts.
Your brows raise in surprise. “Really? She really seemed like the future Mrs Antonelli,” you retort sarcastically in an effort to lighten the mood, and it earns a small chuckle from Kimi.
“Yeah, no, turns out she was only really after the status and fame of dating an F1 driver,” he says sadly. “My mom's been calling her a gold digger since the day they met.”
You furrow your brows. “What's gold digger in Italian?” you ask suddenly, thinking back to the conversation on the phone with Kimi’s mom when she’d said something in Italian you didn’t understand.
“Cercatrice d'oro,” Kimi responds. “Why?”
Your brows raise as understanding dawns on your features. Shoul’ve known, you think to yourself. “Your mom said it a while ago, and I didn’t understand.”
“Well,” Kimi shrugs dejectedly. “Now you know.”
You nod, and once again, silence falls over the two of you. However, it's much shorter this time as Kimi says, “I think we should get back together.”
You whip your head towards him, eyes wide. “What?”
“We made a mistake breaking up. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we broke up,” he says desperately, slowly stepping closer. “We were so good together up until the last few months, and I think that was just bad luck. I really, really want to try again with you,” he implores.
You swallow. “Is this because of the Camilla disaster?” you ask quietly.
He shakes his head vehemently. “No, no. Not at all. Well-” he pauses. “Not in the way you think.” He shakes his head before continuing. “Being with her made me realise that nothing comes close to how you make me feel. I love you, Y/n. And I think we are worth fighting for. I want to give this another try, if you’ll have me.” He reaches for your hand, and you let him take it.
You think about it for a few seconds. “I don’t know, Kimi,” you murmur. “We had our reasons for breaking up. Besides, good or bad, you did just get out of a relationship. I think we should take it slow.”
Kimi looks slightly disappointed but nods in understanding, respectfully taking a step back but still holding onto your hand. “I understand. We can take it slow.”
You nod. “How about we start with being friends again?” you suggest.
A hopeful smile overtakes Kimi’s features, and he agrees almost immediately. “As long as I get to have you in my life again.”
You smile. “Great! So…we’re friends from today.”
He nods affirmatively. He simply looks at you for a minute as if deep in thought, thumb absently running over your knuckles. Then he slips out, “You know, I am here for a wedding.”
You nod. “Yeah, your mom told me,” you respond.
“Will you…be my date?” he asks shyly, squeezing your hand hopefully.
You raise a brow at him, surprised.
“As a friend, of course,” he amends quickly.
You eye him for a few seconds, then chuckle before nodding. “Sure, Kimi. I’d love that.”
Kimi gives you a brilliant smile like you just made him the happiest man in the world.
Maggie, who had of course been spying this entire time, jumps out from behind a pillar happily.
“You’re back together!” she shrieks while clapping excitedly.
“No, no,” Kimi corrects. “We’re just starting over as friends. We’re not back together.”
“You will be,” Maggie grins knowingly, and you and Kimi can only laugh in response.
Kimi cannot even bring himself to be mad at his sister’s irresponsibility today since it has led to him getting back the one thing he had regretted losing the most.
⋮ SYN. 💭 ┆ kimi’s never the guy to usually post. however, whenever he does, you somehow are always in the picture.
𓏲ּ𝄢 ka12 x fem ! reader ╱ smau, romance, friends2lovers ∘ ∘ ∘ ✶ profanity, slowburn-ish ( kimi&yn are edgers im telling u ), users are true definition of “fake it til you make it” LMAOO faceclaim : eunchae 𓂃 🗯️ it would be a crime for heartonelli to not have a kimi fic first… so here it is!!!!
❤︎ ─── ❝ i hope that you feel the same ❞ ⧽ 𓉘 𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𓉝
yourusername
♡ Liked by kimi.antonelli, olliebearman and others
kimi.antonelli so i became your photographer for no recognition?
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli yourusername you’d ruin my aesthetic, so no creds for you
⤷ @ yourusername kimi.antonelli ouch?
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli yourusername thank you for your hard work, mr. photographer 🙂↕️
⤷ @ yourusername kimi.antonelli you know what… i’ll take what i can get ♥︎ by author
user1 wait for my next magic trick
⤷ @ user1 user2 well i’m waiting???
⤷ @ user2 user1 CHILL HE DIDNT POST YET
—
kimi.antonelli
♡ Liked by gabrielbortoleto_, georgerussell63 and others
kimi.antonelli cafe hopping adventures #67 behind the scenes with @ yourusername
view all comments
yourusername hey look! that’s me! ♥︎ by author
⤷ @ yourusername kimi.antonelli see how easy it was for me to mention you in my caption?
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli yourusername OKAY I GET IT.
olliebearman @ kimi.antonelli i’d let you photograph me & i’d credit you properly 😳
⤷ @ olliebearman kimi.antonelli and how does that benefit me
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli olliebearman it’s because i’m not y/n isn’t it
⤷ @ olliebearman kimi.antonelli ?
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli olliebearman i know who you are, so don’t ‘?’ me little boy…
⤷ @ olliebearman kimi.antonelli ????
user2 @ user1 holy shuzz… i like this magic trick…
⤷ @ user2 user1 WHAT DID I TELL UUUU
user3 yup just casually posting with similar captions (67 mention) and casually bickering in each other’s comment sections like the GOOD friends they are 😂😂😂
⤷ @ user3 user4 except one of them always posts a certain individual in every post ✌️😂
⤷ @ user4 user5 MIGHT JUST BE ME BUT I SWEAR SHE NEVER POSTS HIM.
⤷ @ user5 user4 yk what they say, it only takes one to declare their love for the other 🤫
⤷ @ user4 user3 get your corny ass out of my replies .
⤷ @ user3 user4 ALRIGHT BRO.
user6 oh man kimi finally posted! i wonder who else is here!
⤷ @ user6 user1 ground rule on kimi's page: you WILL see y/n everywhere in some way shape or form.
⤷ @ user1 user2 hello this isn't a magic trick then if it's already established...?
⤷ @ user2 user1 CAN U FIND SMTH ELSE BETTER TO DO
—
kimi.antonelli
♡ Liked by isackhadjar, yourusername and others
kimi.antonelli culprit who emptied out my wallet
view all comments
gabrielbortoleto_ and you can’t lend me 50 cent?
⤷ @ gabrielbortoleto_ kimi.antonelli i’m afraid that’s not something i can do… caption…
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli gabrielbortoleto_ Oh ik.
⤷ @ gabrielbortoleto_ user3 please say you know something we don’t plsplslslspls
jackdoohan you have to do what you need to do to make the lady happy 🫡
⤷ @ jackdoohan kimi.antonelli i’m just a kind hearted soul, aren’t i
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli olliebearman kind hearted to selective people.
user3 gabi… jack… ollie… pls i need this….
⤷ @ user3 user2 what if this is all apart of their plan and we are hopelessly falling for it
⤷ @ user2 user3 AND I STILL WOULD LIKE TO BELIEVE IN THE POTENTIAL THEY HAVE.
user7 andandand he got her a skullpanda 🥹
⤷ @ user7 user8 the fact that she put it instantly on her bag too…
⤷ @ user8 user6 gotta show off all the prizeS amirite 😂✌️😂✌️
user9 honestly you could've fooled me and said this was y/n’s page, i would believe you without a SINGLE doubt 😭
⤷ @ user9 user8 like wdym you come back every couple of months to just drop a pic of you and y/n EVERY. SINGLE. TIME?
⤷ @ user8 user4 it's like clockwork i swear
⤷ @ user4 user3 see u guys in the next 6 months because we got spoiled this week 😢
—
yourusername
♡ Liked by kimi.antonelli, zuhazana and others
yourusername 🍀 lucky charm @ kimi.antonelli ?
view all comments
kimi.antonelli gambling Here i come! ♥︎ by author
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli yourusername get me a secret next time then 😛
⤷ @ yourusername kimi.antonelli you’re really trying to put me to the test here…
⤷ user1 @ kimi.antonelli start gambling with that shot u got 100% success rate TRUST ME
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli yourusername you managed to get my top pick sooo
⤷ @ yourusername kimi.antonelli i guess we will continue testing my luck then ♥︎ by author
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli user1 i feel ignored BUT IDC GOOD ANSWER NEPHEW 🥹✌️🥹✌️🥹✌️
user4 YOUR*** lucky charm 😳???
⤷ @ user4 user3 notice how just their last post kimi was “complaining” about y/n not mentioning him in her post…? AND SHE FINALLY DID IT HERE SO IM TELLING YOU SHE PURPOSEFULLY DID THAT TO MAKE IT SEEM LIKE SHES JS FOLLOWING WHAT HE WANTED WHEN SHE RLY WANTED TO CALL HIM THAT.
⤷ @ user3 user4 I LIKE THE WAY U THINKKKK
user5 okay i was JUST going insane about the lack of posts of kimi on y/n’s account?!?!
⤷ @ user5 user1 SHE SNUCK HIM ON THE LAST SLIDE TOO SHE’S NOT SLICKKKK
⤷ @ user1 user5 THEY ARE HEARING US IDCIDC
user10 are they lovers?
⤷ @ user10 user4 even Worse.
⤷ @ user4 user10 then why the couple worthy posts of each other then 💔
⤷ @ user10 user4 bc they are just “friends.”
⤷ @ user4 user10 Oh hell no i’m OUT of here .
—
—
kimi.antonelli
♡ Liked by olliebearman, yourusername and others
kimi.antonelli il mio quadrifoglio 🖤
view all comments
isackhadjar this is new
⤷ @ isackhadjar kimi.antonelli not too bad for a change?
⤷ @ isackhadjar user5 IF ISACK SAYS THAT YK THIS IS OUT OF THE NORMMMM
user9 this is the most kimi has ever kimi-ed.
⤷ @ user9 user10 whatever that freaking means
⤷ @ user10 user9 STOP HE'S RARELY EVER JUST POSTING PICS OF HIMSELF
user1 i think you're missing someone in the picture dude 😂...
user3 "il mio quadrifoglio" = "my four leaf clover" are we sure we are talking about that clover in a pic or someone else 🤣????
⤷ @ user3 user4 wait that's not crazy to say AT ALL
⤷ @ user3 user4 clover (lucky symbol) transitions into kimi smiling transitions into kimi puckering for the camera = all for y/n!
⤷ @ user4 user3 MY BROTHER JUST ANOTHER MEEE
⤷ @ user3 user4 HE WANTS HER BAD TRUST ME BRO
—
—
kimi.antonelli
♡ Liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and others
unwinding ☀️🏖️
view all comments
charles_leclerc that looks so nice, drop the spot
⤷ @ charles_leclerc kimi.antonelli will do 🫡
⤷ @ charles_leclerc user1 you're asking bc yk those two are dating so that's a nice date spot u wanna take right charles. RIGHT CHARLES??????
user6 is that second drink for you too or 😅
user5 wait Kimi we are sorry for the teasing BRING HER BACK
⤷ @ user5 user3 SHE'S THERE SHE'S THERE I SWEAR @ user4 BACK ME UP ON THIS
⤷ @ user3 user4 the two drinks have to mean he's on this trip with someone... and considering his past posts, he's always hanging out with y/n... so the two drinks transition to the next slide... a boat with "Love Me Tender" aka that's directed to her (i'm not crazy i promise) and then leads into the last pic... she clearly took this and he's smiling for her #STAYWITHMENOW
⤷ @ user4 user6 it's crazy how compatible you two are...
⤷ @ user6 user4 what would be better is if @ kimi.antonelli and @ yourusername also realize how compatible they are
⤷ @ user4 user3 EXFREAKINGACTLYYYYY
yourusername still haven't remembered i see ♥︎ by author
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli user2 don't flip out but @ user3 ...
⤷ @ user2 user3 OOOHHHHH I'M GOING OFF THE RAILINGS I TOLD U ALL I TOLD U ALLLLLL
user7 so are they playing in our faces rn
⤷ @ user7 user9 doing everything but dropping the official OFFICIAL dating post
⤷ @ user9 user8 wdym they are together already Haha !!!!!!
⤷ @ user8 user10 so kimiyn is making everyone go insane?
⤷ @ user10 user8 you included aka "i'm OUT of here ."
⤷ @ user8 user10 SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP
—
—
yourusername
♡ Liked by kimi.antonelli, jackdoohan and others
yourusername 🖤 xoxo, 11/10
view all comments
user6 the ratings are backkk!!
⤷ @ user6 user5 YO I DON'T THINK THAT'S THE MAIN EVENT.
user6 WHO THE FUH IS AT THE LAST SLIDE????
⤷ @ user6 user8 THE SWITCH UP IS VERY VALID.
user1 this better be who i think it is.
user3 i know that hair. i KNOWWWWW that hair.
user2 11/10? high ranking… so this has to be a date THIS HAS TO BE
jenaissante 👀? ♥︎ by author
⤷ @ jenaissante yourusername 🫡
⤷ @ jenaissante user7 guys if her friend doesn't know... this has to be someone entirely new or they are hiding it EXTREMELY WELL.
⤷ @ user7 user9 you already know what i'm believing in 😂...
user4 no guys u aren't as locked in as i am. the ratings are back and those ratings are only on posts that have kimi in it. that last picture TOTALLY looks like him and a fit he would wear (🙏) AND the heart emoji totally correlates to his post that I BELIEVE was meant for her as he called her his four leaf clover in italian. U CANT JUST NOT BE WITH SOMEONE WHO U CALL UR LUCKY CLOVERRRR
⤷ @ user4 user3 always here to feed into our delusions 😢
⤷ @ user3 user4 ON OUR SOULS ITS KIMI IN THAT PIC
⤷ @ user4 user10 GIVE ME BACK MY MF SOUL???
user5 WHERE IS KIMI WHEN WE NEED HIM.
⤷ @ user5 user1 WITH HER #TRUSTTHESOURCE
—
yourusername
♡ Liked by kimi.antonelli, alexandramalenaleclerc and others
yourusername il suo quadrifoglio 🤍 @ kimi.antonelli
view all comments
user1 WAIF I COULD DEADASS CRY RN
user2 SHUT UR MOUTHHHH OMFGOFMG
user3 THE MATCHING CAPTIONS AWHHH
user4 SEE ALL U GUYS HAD TO DO WAS PUT FAITH INTO MY MANIFESTATIONS.
⤷ @ user4 yourusername who knew you'd be right?
⤷ @ yourusername user4 you Replied at last omf . yo make me best man right NOW 😭🙏
kimi.antonelli 🖤 ♥︎ by author
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli yourusername my person :')
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli user6 @ user4 he used the black heart... Oh we all had faith in you.
⤷ @ user6 user4 YESSS all except for @ user10.
⤷ @ user4 user10 YO STOP FEAR TOOK OVER OKAY??
—
kimi.antonelli
♡ Liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and others
kimi.antonelli lucky kimi only exists when i'm with you. ti amo, @ yourusername ❤️
view all comments
olliebearman i have been there ever since he has crashed out about how perfect of a person she is ✌️😳 aka since forever ✌️😳
⤷ @ olliebearman kimi.antonelli don't expose me
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli yourusername hmmmm idkkkk i think he should continue doing that... that's cute ♥︎ by author
jackdoohan finally 😢
⤷ @ jackdoohan kimi.antonelli anything for the lady, am i right?
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli jackdoohan truly learning from the best 🥹
isackhadjar congratulations 🥳
⤷ @ isackhadjar gabrielbortoleto_ he typed that while fuming btw because he owes me $50 for not believing this would happen any time soon
⤷ @ gabrielbortoleto_ isackhadjar SHUT UP NO I AM NOT.
⤷ @ gabrielbortoleto_ user5 wait u went from 0.50 cents to $50..
⤷ @ user5 gabrielbortoleto_ had to make that investment ♥︎ by author
user4 I NO LONGER SOUND CRAZY 😢
⤷ @ user4 user3 you still are but it's okay you’re my kind of crazy
⤷ @ user3 user7 ??? yo are we abt to get another couple
⤷ @ user3 user6 GET A ROOMMMMMM
user10 so sticking around was worth it 🥹
⤷ @ user10 user8 SO WORTH ITTTT
yourusername why this pic omg? ♥︎ by author
⤷ @ yourusername kimi.antonelli what about it? you're cute here, my love
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli yourusername you're lucky that i love you ♥︎ by author
⤷ @ yourusername kimi.antonelli i guess you can say that “lucky kimi 🍀” lives up to his title?
⤷ @ kimi.antonelli yourusername forever&always ❤️ ♥︎ by author
FEI'S RADIO 𓂃 🗯️ this actually look longer to make than expected... but i'm glad to be able to post this as we've gotten the news that kimi got pole 😢❤️🩹 WE PRAYED FOR DAYS LIKE THESEEE gosh i hope he does well during the race & i hope you all enjoyed this oddly long smau fic 😳
ིྀ PAIRINGS: F1 driver Andrea Kimi Antonelli x Strategist gn Reader
ིྀ synopsis: when it’s time for the 2026 Formula 1 British Grand Prix you are there, in the pit wall, eyes focused on the black and cyan cars that are displayed on screen. everything seems to be under control, but what if something goes wrong all of a sudden?
ིྀ contains attempt at comfort; slight angst - canon events (poor kimi); poor description of events (I'm practically an ignorant but I still tried my best); fluff; self insert if you squint (reader should be italian!)
ೄྀquick note! first things first, english is not my first language so if you see grammar / syntactic errors,, you don't!! i don't really consider myself a F1 fan yet since i started watching it not so long ago, so ignore the incorrect takes regarding.. everything. just wanted to write something on this last race since it didn't end well, like, at all! + since i'm italian i wrote the dialogue between y/n and kimi in italian but i can't seem to figure out how to hover text a translation (would have been pretty cool) so the italic phrases are actually supposed to be in his mother tongue!
last thing, please enjoy⊹⁺⸜(ᐡ⸝ɞ̴̶̷ ·̮ ɞ̴̶̷⸝ᐡ)⸝⁺⊹
ೄྀword count: 3.2k
playing now: How I Get ; Laufey
"Good luck for this one!"
From the garage I scream to both Kimi Antonelli and George Russell as they rush into the race track with their black and cyan cars, in search of their starting positions. I stand right beside Toto after sending off the drivers, my eyes focusing on the monitors, all cars getting in their respective positions. My eyes search for our cars, and find Kimi positioned in the front line, qualified first in yesterday's Sprint.
Watching intently as the starting-light goes off, red fills my vision, and in a second, the race has began.
Kimi has a slow start, which costs him the first place immediately, red cars sprinting on his sides, and he falls into third position quickly, while Russell is committed in keeping his forth place.
That's when I say my farewell to the team and head to the pit wall, safe start meaning I can switch places comfortably.
When I finally get there I put some belongings on the counter of my station, then I turn to my right to find Bono already sat, his expression relaxed, almost a mirror of the mood Dudley is showing at my left. Just like that I sit down on my seat between the two, focusing on the cameras capturing the front of both of our pilots' cars. My eyes drift to the right camera, Kimi's one, who is running after Hamilton.
In the pit wall I can feel the tension rising little by little as each lap is completed. Eyes are wide open, focused on the screens, while I hear Bono and Dudley communicating every once in a while with their drivers.
Kimi is good in keeping the expectations high, and within the 28th lap, with no pit stops yet, he finds himself in the lead after Leclerc goes in for a wheel change. Me and Bono look at each other with satisfied expressions on our faces, but are quick on focusing again, because we need a change of wheels as well, as the other contenders run after Kimi, new ones on their cars as a boost.
He's called for a change of his own when the gap from the driver after him reduces little by little, at lap 36, and re enters the race second place, seven seconds separating him from the first place Leclerc is keeping tight.
I say he can do it, he can reach the guy in 10 laps, and I can feel him smiling through the radio call as I sneak near Bono to feel more connected to the short conversation they're having, Bono copying the words coming out of my mouth once I confirm his predictions.
After that, my eyes are planted onto the screen, stats looking fine, seeing the milliseconds reduce little by little. From 7 seconds to 5, then 4 and as things keep on happening on the track he keeps the 3 seconds gap from the Monegasque champion wannabe. When the virtual safety car is removed after an umbrella fought for its place on the race track, I can see the time gap between Leclerc and Kimi. The latter is 2,3s from being first place.
I get ready for the rush of adrenaline derived from the impending battle for the first place, but suddenly Kimi seems slower.
I look at the stats on the screen, then to my right at Bono for a second before the radio connection starts.
"Problems. Problems. I have something broken in the car."
I look at the screen, searching for something.
"Okay. Any more info?" Kimi seems nervous, and Bono is quick in replying.
"Ah, something's broken! In the car, it's like suspension. I don't know."
Right after, I turn around to see Kimi getting into the Pit Lane, his voice coming from the headphones, loud in our ears "Box, box! Front wing I think."
I hear a quick "Ok, ok. Copy" and instantly our engineers are on his car, giving him a wheel change and searching for some kind of issue in the suspensions.
As soon as our team is done, Kimi gets right back on track, but the problem is still there and he's quick in telling us.
"Ah mate, I think the suspension is broken."
I hear Bono sigh, and he responds with another "copy that." I swear under my breath, then wonder if it's time to…
"Ok so… Let's box this." Bono is quick in speaking out loud my mind, negative energy, a wave of disappointment coming from right next to me, and I feel so too, but the driver doesn't let go.
"I can try to keep going!"
I look at Bono, leaning onto his station, searching for that something that is messing with Kimi's race in his eyes. They are focused on the screen, and as seconds pass by, his voice is once again in my headphones.
"We think it just is the wheel shield, left-hand side."
"But the car is not turning!"
Bono sighs, muttering a quick "ok, standby" but for Kimi that's not an answer.
It's time for another pit stop, the tension really felt in our circle of workers. Engineers replace the wheel shield as Bono said was the issue there, and Kimi just re enters the race right after, still insecure of his car.
"No but there's something fundamental mate. In high speed the car doesn't turn."
Kimi's voice by now is trembling, clearly overly anxious about the situation.
Looking at the monitor, I try to keep my composure, telling myself to focus yes on him, but Russell too, who is now fighting for a second place.
Bono's voice echoes in my ears as he says, yet again, to box the car, retire it. He's quick in telling Kimi again and again, and I feel the disappointment in his voice, surrendering to the circumstances. On the other side though, the younger man is fighting against it.
"I can try! I can try to get the point! At least one point!" I feel his voice shaking, and I find it hard to keep my composure.
"Wait, which place am I?" the driver asks, and Bono is quick in answering.
"We are just in P10. We've got Colapinto behind."
"I'll stay out, I'll try to get a point."
By now Bono's hands are on his face, a stubborn kid not willing to listen to his instructions.
Kimi is pleading us to keep him on the track, and that's when I take Bono's microphone with my hand, bringing myself closer to it to communicate to Kimi on my own accord.
"Get on with it, Kimi." I say, and regardless of the side eye coming from Bono and the two other technicians beside him, the team accepts to let him stay on track. Not that the guy would have clearly surrendered so easily anyways.
Bad news are on the way soon after, when the FIA communicates a 5 seconds penalty for track limits, and when we tell Kimi, he lets his emotions show.
"Kimi we are getting track limits for all the excursions we've had."
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, nervous on my seat.
"So we are going to get 5 second penalty for track limits anyway. We’re going to have three racing cars."
"That's a joke mate. I didn’t do it on purpose, like, the car was broken."
"Yeah, Understood." Bono tries not to feed into Kimi's feelings, but the guy is quick in replying.
"Like I wasn't even gaining time."
"Kimi, I want you to-" I try again, about to reassure him, ask him to stay focused, but Bono cuts my line immediately, distancing himself from me.
"Safety car on track."
There's a quick exchange of lines between the two of them, stating how things just won't go their way today, and from that moment, it's radio silence. We aren't hearing from him, but I see the others keeping up with the second place George Russell. Today is just not Kimi's race.
The team by now is awfully quieter than it usually is, safety car and all that involved, and I know that they're rethinking every movement and decision they've made for the past two hours on Kimi's car. I am too.
The last two laps are slow, and some of us are happy for Russell, some are sad over Kimi car's problems, and I'm just there, keeping my eyes on the screens, on his car, his face covered by the helmet.
I feel the crowd take joy in Ferrari's victory, and as an Italian I should do that too, but instead I leave my headphones down on the counter as soon as Kimi cuts the finish line, headed to the closed park.
Bono and Dudley turn to me for a second, but they don't actually step up to stop me.
My steps are fast, yet slow enough not to bring attention to me from commentators or cameramen.
And then I see him. I see how he takes some seconds to take off the headrest, the steering wheel. I can sense it from how he grips the sides of the car and slowly gets out, how he's feeling.
And as he walks towards the Pesa, I follow him silently. He acknowledges my presence, but doesn't take off his helmet, nor does he talk.
When we get there he weights himself and goes through all the other procedures, always keeping his head turned, not showing me his face. And I let him.
He looks towards me just enough only when he needs to see I'm following him to the Media Zone, his helmet left to a FIA official, his fluffy hair and the tip of his nose the only things I can actually see, despite being shorter than him. That's how much he's hiding himself.
I let him be, staying behind him as we step into the Zone. He's Instantly talking to reporters, but the monotone of his voice gives off what he was trying to hide with his face.
Disappointment. Sadness. Anger.
The engineers talk, and I'm just there to witness the scene. Enough to stand on the line, not enough to speak on situations.
Kimi is quick in his commentary, and when he's done, he turns to finally reach our garage.
He sits down in the corner of the relax zone, and I just lean onto the wall nearby.
The garage is full with voices, however none directed to Kimi. Team knows when to let him boil down the negative thoughts before a debriefing takes place, and that's why I kind of feel as if in a bubble, just the two of us, in the corner of the box.
I look in front of me anyways, taking in the emotions of the guy near me, just by standing there.
My hands are planted behind my back, onto the wall, until I feel fingertips reaching for some comfort.
I look down and Kimi is by now slightly turned towards me, eyes on my right hand, not daring to look up.
My palm leaves the wall, and lets him do whatever he feels like doing.
His fingers brush my hand, slowly lacing around it, bringing it closer to his face.
The back of my hand comes in contact with his cheek, and I feel it. It's sticky, probably from the tears he shed less than an hour ago.
His hand is trembling slightly as it keeps mine on his skin, his palm on mine, in search of some kind of comfort.
The scene in front of my eyes is not what people would expect out of a F1 driver, but Andrea Kimi Antonelli is a young boy, who can feel sad like only a teenager can. Incidents happen, cars break all the times, but for a podium hungry guy it's more than bad luck. It's failure, it's disappointment.
If engineers see the interaction, they don't hesitate, not even a second, to look away, somewhere else.
The thing feels somewhat awkward, but I can't find a proper reason to put a distance between the two of us.
He keeps the back of my hand still on his cheek, and looks down to his other hand, sitting on his legs.
I can feel his thoughts tangle in a big mess, but at the same time, he looks kind of relaxed by now.
I divert my eyes from his figure to look up, just to lock eyes with Toto, who's standing far from us. He's leaning onto the monitor counter, headphones still around his neck, arms crossed on his chest.
I feel a rush of embarrassment spread through my body as I actually realize we're in public, and I quickly look away, lips tight. When, just a few seconds later, I look back at the man I find him with his eyes still on me, us, this time a subtle smile on his face.
It's him who drifts his gaze now, and I see the smile vanish from his lips as soon as he gets to talk to Bono nearby, his serious persona kicking in.
My focus returns to the racer beside me, and as my hand remains on his cheek, my index finger moves slowly, rhythmically going up and down, a little caress for him to accept.
I see his eyes close for a moment, his head slightly higher, as if more prone to accept what happened today. I focus on his face, and when he opens his eyes again, that's when he looks up at me.
His eyes are a bit reddish, of course, and his eye bags slightly puffy.
I smile lightly at the vision, it's like seeing a hurt puppy. Kimi is usually pretty fearless, emotionally balanced after a race, with a certain something in his eyes. But events in this last one brought things out of him that made me realize he's just a young man still.
I want to say something but I don't know what, so I just stay with my mouth closed, eyes focused on his expression.
He still isn't smiling, but the eye contact is still there. Something unsaid, maybe something that shouldn't be heard, not from his team anyways.
The grip of his hand on mine tightens as he turns it the other way around, then he leans into the palm of my hand, his cheek rubbing slightly against it.
My cheeks flush a bit, a reddish color painting them sweetly, and I continue to exhibit a soft smile.
"Thank you." He says, gently, in a whisper, and I find my lips twitching, fighting to smile wider.
"Feeling a bit better?"
"A little yeah'."
He doesn't take the conversation anywhere else. He just drops it as I do too, unsure of what is better to say, or what to say at all.
He leans some more onto the palm of my hand, then with a deep breath he lets go of the grip he held until that moment, and with decision gets up from the sofa, directed to the group of engineers on the other side of the box.
I stand still, looking as a quick talk takes place. After some time I take a seat down just where Kimi was moments before, and see how the team speaks to the nineteen y.o boy.
Some of them seem cautious, others approach him as if nothing happened, as if he wasn't really touched by the events.
That's when Toto comes up to me, and I slightly correct my posture on the chair, aware of his stern face. He stops in front of me, a hand on my shoulder as he speaks with a serious tone.
"No more solo instructions to the drivers y/n, for safety and professional reasons. I'll see you during debriefing in 5."
Before get going, he lowers his voice to a mere whisper just for me to hear.
"Great job at comforting Kimi."
And with that, I see him heading for the doors to the paddock, followed soon after by some key figures of the team.
When Kimi is done talking to the people in front of the monitors, he turns to me, head tilted to the side, telling me it's time to go for the debriefing.
Soon after Bono and Dudley come to my sides, and we reach together the paddock.
Once sat, the meeting doesn't take much time for the general insights, but as soon as the private talk with Russell's team is over, which didn't take long either, Kimi's one starts, and it feels endless.
Kimi sometimes lifts his head up from the screens on the counter, meeting my eyes, and somehow invites me to join the conversation, but Toto has put me in standby, so there's nothing for me to say.
Due to my reckless solo actions in decision making earlier he is temporarily taking away from me my right to say on matters, so I just smile at Kimi, as I usually do when something can’t be helped, and he gets his eyes down on the counter right after.
As for him, he has returned to his focused persona, speaking volumes about how he felt about the car, how he would like to feel it, and some objectively good observations.
After what, for me, feels like an eternity, the team disbands and everyone walks their way to the dressing rooms, all still in their uniforms, me and Kimi included.
He doesn't follow, rather than that, he comes back to me, expression easier on his face than before. Toto is behind him, and as he passes me by to get to the dressing rooms, he gives me a polite smile, and after that, he leaves.
I'm glad I didn't get scolded further than that by my co workers, Toto playing obviously a big role on that.
I watch him leave, then turn back to Kimi who has his eyes still on the man. We should catch on schedule, doctors probably already waiting for him to get on the health check ups and eventual massages.
But he isn't really moving, instead he just stands near me.
"You should go change, you know. With the doctors waiting and stuff."
That's when a hand runs through his hair, a sigh escaping his lips.
"Wait.."
And that's what I do. I wait. I wait with him for everyone to get out of the paddock, the slightly loud press of the door echoing in the room, and when it comes to the two of us as in the last two people in here, his energy shifts.
His hands reach for the sides of my waist, and slowly brings me closer, in a soon to be hug.
His arms wrap around my sides, and in a second his body is pressed against mine.
My arms reach for his neck, slowly lacing around it. Because of the height difference he gets a bit lower, his back a bit arched, and it's simpler for me to reach for strands of his curly hair to play with.
"You smell good."
"That's good."
He lets out a soft laugh, and in doing so his face buries deeper in the crook of my neck.
"You're just like a puppy." I tell him, a giggle escaping my mouth, and he tightens his arms around my waist.
"You treat me like a child."
"You still are two years younger than me."
"And 15cm taller."
I know he can feel me rolling my eyes, and his laugh is quick in returning again in my ears.
I'm glad he's feeling better after the debriefing, after.. This.
“I never meant to—fall for you. But I have. And it is ruining me.” ⚔️⊹₊⟡⋆
Synopsis: In a season ruled by status and scandal, your heart belongs to the one man you should not love—Duke Lando of Bristol. But when passion proves stronger than propriety, secrets unravel, and love dares to rewrite society’s script.
Genre: Slowburn, Angst, Romance
AU: Bridgerton!au
Pairing: Duke!Lando x Bridgerton!Reader
Warnings: Mentions of Lando having rumors surrounding him, being bullied by Lady Whistledown (😭), PAINFUL yearning
Note: Leaning into the fantasy aspect of my writing. Took awhile since I’m already at my wits end since my graduation is on Wednesday and I have college applications, so stress and writer's block took a huge toll on me. As always, happy reading, every like + reblog and feedback comment is appreciated. Love you all and congrats to Lando for winning Monaco.
The London season began like a waltz—predictable in its rhythm, expected in its elegance.
Debutantes filled the parlors of Mayfair with laughter and lace, hopeful mamas arranged introductions like battle strategies, and eligible men surveyed the room as though it were a market.
You, however, sat unmoved in the chaos of it all.
As the eldest Bridgerton daughter of your generation—niece to the famed Daphne, Duchess of Hastings—you were no stranger to the dance of courtship.
You had received suitors each season since your coming out, and as of last season, you sent them away with practiced grace and mild disinterest.
You were admired, certainly—renowned for your wit and celebrated beauty—but you were hardly easy to impress.
It was not that you were cruel, only… resolute.
You believed in marrying for love, not convenience, and though your family’s standing made you an undeniable prize, you refused to be won like a trophy.
And so, as you stood beside your mother in the ballroom of the Featherington estate, you watched the swirling dancers with an expression that betrayed only mild curiosity.
Until he walked in.
The doors opened wide and in stepped him—Lando Norris, the Duke of Bristol.
The buzz in the room was immediate and unmistakable. He was not a stranger to the ton, nor to its gossip.
Known for his rakish smile, whispered escapades with barmaids, and a suspiciously frequent presence at one of London’s more notorious gentlemen’s clubs, the Duke was a man often discussed behind fans and teacups.
Though he was recently betrothed to Lady Magui Corceiro of Arleshire—elegant, obedient, and, by all appearances, a perfect duchess-to-be—none in the room could ignore the sharp, magnetic presence of the man himself.
Lando was trouble.
And yet—he was beautiful trouble.
He was all dark curls and striking eyes, a crooked smirk playing at his lips as he surveyed the room, his hands clasped behind his back like he owned the very floor upon which he stepped.
When his gaze swept across the crowd and landed on you, something sparked—sharp, electric, and undeniable.
Your posture did not change, but your breath did. Just slightly.
The music swelled again, another dance beginning. Suitors came and went, offering their hands, their compliments, their family names.
You obliged politely. You smiled, curtsied, laughed at appropriate moments—but your mind remained with the Duke of Bristol, who now stood near the refreshment table, engaged in an idle conversation with Lord Featherington. His eyes, however, remained elsewhere.
On you.
“He’s looking this way,” your younger sister whispered beside you, nudging you playfully.
“I’m aware,” you replied, tone neutral.
“And he’s coming this way.”
You turned just in time to see Lando Norris weaving through the crowd with the grace of a man used to parting seas.
He stopped before you, bowed deeply, and said with a voice smoother than sin, “Lady Bridgerton. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”
You curtsied, your expression unreadable.
“Duke Norris. I was beginning to think you were merely a ghost spoken of in scandal sheets.”
He laughed, charmed instantly, as though your words were the first true ones he’d heard all night.
“I am very much flesh and blood, I assure you.”
“So I’ve read,” you returned, letting your gaze linger just a second too long.
Around you, the air shifted. The room hadn’t gone quiet, but it felt quieter. As though the ballroom itself held its breath.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, extending a hand.
You paused—long enough for him to wonder if you’d decline—before placing your gloved hand into his.
“Very well, Duke. I still have space left on my dance card, but do try not to ruin my slippers.”
The orchestra began anew. As he led you to the floor, you felt it again—that current, that pull.
The way your hand fit in his, the subtle strength in the press of his palm to your back, the way his eyes never seemed to stray.
“You’re not at all what I expected,” he murmured, his tone intimate though his words were innocent.
“Do you often expect women to faint at your feet, Your Grace?”
“Not always. But I was warned of your… indifference.”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. Especially in drawing rooms.”
“And yet, I want to hear everything from you.”
You raised a brow, amused. “Such a dangerous line for a man with a fiancée.”
He faltered, just briefly, before offering that infamous smile.
“She and I are… a match on parchment, not in person.”
“And what are we, Duke Norris?”
He studied you for a moment too long. “An interruption. A welcome one.”
You did not answer. You didn’t need to.
The song ended, and as you stepped away from him, the room resumed its rhythm—but your heartbeat did not.
Somewhere, beneath lace and velvet, sparks had turned to embers.
And Lady Whistledown, no doubt, had already begun to write.
The morning sunlight spilled gently across the pale carpeted floor of the Bridgerton drawing room, filtering through embroidered curtains and dappling the upholstery in soft gold.
The air smelled faintly of spring jasmine and black tea, and the peaceful clink of porcelain cups echoed in companionable rhythm with the rustling of newspaper print and idle conversation.
You sat by the window in a sky-blue and cream colored day dress, flipping through a book you had no true intention of finishing.
Across from you, your younger brother was attempting to charm your eldest cousin into a chess match he had no chance of winning, while another sibling picked at the piano keys absently, humming a tune that had long gone out of fashion.
The scene was delightfully domestic—until the door burst open.
“Have you seen it?!”
Your cousin Emma’s voice rang out like a hunting horn, and all heads turned as she stormed into the room, skirts swishing in her wake and a half-folded paper clutched in one gloved hand.
“Emma,” you said slowly, raising an eyebrow, “should you really be making an entrance that dramatic before tea?”
But Emma was already waving the paper about as though it were aflame. “Lady Whistledown. Page two. Top of the column.”
Your fingers froze over your book. The entire room shifted in energy.
Your brother reached for the paper first, snatching it from Emma’s hand and reading aloud in his best impersonation of Whistledown’s tone:
“Though the Featherington ball sparkled with expected elegance, it was a single waltz that drew the ton’s breath into their fans. One must ask: what is a Bridgerton doing wrapped in the arms of a Duke already promised to another? And more importantly—why did they look as if the rest of the ballroom had disappeared entirely?”
A chorus of gasps and stifled laughter broke out among your cousins, your youngest sister squealing and swatting the arm of her twin.
You, however, merely closed your book with deliberate calm.
“She must be running out of scandal if she’s resorting to printing dance cards.”
Emma plopped into the seat beside you, eyes wide and sparkling with mischief.
“Don’t be coy. You were practically glowing that night.”
You gave her a look. “I was overheated from too many quadrilles.”
“Please. The Duke of Bristol looked like he would devour you where you stood.”
Across the room, your oldest brother choked on his tea.
“Emma,” you warned, though your cheeks had grown suspiciously warm.
She leaned in, all feminine conspirator and far too pleased with herself. “Tell me the truth. Was it just a dance?”
You gave a long-suffering sigh, smoothing your skirts.
“It was one waltz. Barely three minutes long.”
“Yes, and that’s all Lady Whistledown needed to light the entire city aflame.”
There was no denying it—the article had consequences.
While you had maintained every measure of propriety during the dance, the intimacy, the spark, had been… undeniable.
You had felt it. Lando had felt it. And so, apparently, had everyone else.
The ton wasted no time.
By midday, the invitations to luncheons arrived not-so-subtly addressed to you and the Duke, and your mother had already received no less than four veiled inquiries into whether your dance with Lando had been sanctioned by his betrothed.
You felt yourself recoil slightly at the word.
Betrothed.
A barrier you had not dared to cross, yet somehow, found yourself drawn toward again and again.
Even now, your thoughts betrayed you—replaying the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his hand at your waist, the deliberate slowness with which he had spoken your name.
That afternoon, you made a silent vow.
No more dances. No more rooms full of whispers. No more proximity that might invite ruin.
And yet, the very next evening, you found yourself at the Ashbourne estate for their annual spring garden soirée—and there he was.
The Duke of Bristol.
He looked absurdly good, as though carved for moonlight, dressed in deep emerald silk that set his eyes aglow.
Lady Magui was not with him—word was she had taken ill and remained in the countryside—but Lando was very much present. And he wasted no time seeking you out.
“Lady Bridgerton,” he said as he appeared beside you, his voice a velvet thing in the hush of twilight.
“Your Grace.” You kept your posture stiff, your expression unreadable. “I assume you’ve read the paper.”
He smirked. “Ah. So we are addressing the matter directly, then.”
“I’d rather not,” you replied coolly. “Especially if we are to avoid becoming the subject of tomorrow’s column.”
“And yet, here I am,” he murmured, leaning just slightly closer. “Drawn like a fool to candlelight.”
You stiffened, your fan fluttering nervously in your hand. “You should not say such things.”
“I shouldn’t,” he agreed. “But I have never been particularly well-behaved.”
You met his gaze. “Perhaps that is why your name appears more frequently in scandal sheets than invitations.”
His grin deepened. “And yet you still accepted my dance.”
“You asked.”
“And you said yes.”
Your breath caught. It was infuriating—the way he could disarm you with a smile, undo weeks of practiced composure with a single glance.
You looked away, toward the hedges, the flickering lanterns, the safety of anything else.
“I’m not a woman who will be hidden behind doors or whispered about in corners,” you said finally, voice steady.
“You are engaged. And I will not be some tragic footnote in your family’s history.”
He was silent for a long moment. Then:
“You are no one’s footnote.”
You turned back to him, startled by the sincerity in his tone.
He looked at you as though you were made of starlight. And you hated that you liked it. That it made something within you soften, ache, want.
“I cannot be the reason you ruin yourself,” you whispered. “Even if… even if I wish it could be different.”
He reached for your hand, and though he barely brushed your glove, you felt it like a flame.
“I would ruin myself a thousand times,” he said lowly, “if it meant I could be yours.”
You pulled away then, heart pounding, before propriety could snap under the weight of such a confession.
Before your name became not just rumor, but scandal.
You disappeared into the rose gardens alone, breath caught, thoughts aflame.
And somewhere in the city that night, Lady Whistledown had dipped her quill into the ink pot.
Night had long since fallen over.
The Bridgerton manor sat quiet, shrouded in a soft hush that only the late hours could bring.
Candles had been extinguished room by room, replaced by the flicker of moonlight that spilled in through gauzy curtains and danced across polished floors.
Yet you were not asleep.
You paced softly in the gallery above the entrance hall, a robe of pale lavender silk drawn over your nightdress and slippers muffling your steps.
The household had retired for the evening, and still sleep evaded you.
Perhaps it was the dread of morning callers, the unbearable weight of unsolicited offers of courtship, or perhaps it was the latest column from Lady Whistledown tucked in the drawer of your writing desk—its words still echoing in your mind.
“One of our more eligible daughters remains shockingly unattached. But word among the housekeepers and coachmen is that she waits for someone—someone who already belongs to another. And he, reckless creature that he is, keeps appearing like a ghost when all others have gone to sleep. Tell me, dear reader, what keeps a lady from accepting a proposal unless her heart has already given its answer?”
You had crumpled the paper in your palm before you could finish your tea.
And yet—every word had rung true.
Your gaze fell on the front door. You had not meant to descend the stairs. You had not meant to slip outside. But something—something inevitable—pulled you forward.
The chill of the garden air kissed your skin as you stepped onto the terrace, drawing your shawl tighter around your frame.
The scent of roses hung thick in the night. Above, the moon cast silver shadows onto the stone, the stars sharp as needlepoints in the vast navy sky.
That was when you saw him.
A figure in the darkness, shoulders cloaked in black, stepping through the break in the hedge with the confidence of a man who had trespassed here before.
“Your Grace,” you breathed, startled by the wildness of your own heartbeat.
Lando stopped a few paces from you. “I was hoping you’d still be awake.”
“You should not be here.”
“And yet,” he said softly, “here I am.”
The night swallowed your protests.
You should have fled back inside. You should have told him to leave, to forget you, to go back to the woman he was meant to marry and leave the foolish whispers of affection behind. But something in your heart stilled as he drew closer, the hem of his coat catching on the gravel.
You could not look away from him.
“You’ve read the paper,” he said, voice gentler now. “Whistledown. Always precise with her daggers.”
“She may not name names,” you replied, tone brittle, “but the world is not blind.”
“I do not care what the world says.”
“But I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Because I have to.”
You turned from him, clutching your arms to your chest as you gazed out at the garden, its roses ghostly in the moonlight.
Behind you, Lando stood still, as if tethered to some invisible string pulled taut between you.
“I am not like the others,” you continued. “You know that. I was not raised to cause scandal for sport, nor would I—could I—betray my own name.”
He said nothing. And so you spoke again, barely more than a breath:
“Then why do I want to let you?”
It was an admission, as dangerous as it was honest. The night seemed to still with it, the breeze itself holding its breath.
You heard him step toward you then, each footfall deliberate, until he was standing close—so close, you could feel the warmth of him even through the cool air.
“Because,” he murmured, “we are already lost in this, you and I.”
You turned to face him. His eyes met yours, and in them was everything you feared and everything you craved—desire, ache, devotion.
A man slowly unraveling.
“I feel like I am losing my mind,” he admitted, voice hoarse.
“They push me toward her, toward Magui, and all I can think of is how her hand does not fit in mine. How her laugh does not echo in my chest. How she is not you.”
Your lips parted, but the words would not come.
“I never meant for this to happen,” he continued. “I never meant to—fall for you. But I have. And it is ruining me.”
Your heart pounded wildly in your chest. “Then why not stop? Why not walk away before we both shatter?”
He reached for you then. His gloved hand brushed your cheek, and you let him—for just a moment. For just this breath between the before and after.
“I cannot,” he said. “Because the only time I can breathe is when I am near you.”
The night pulsed with the truth of it. The silence that followed was not empty, but full of things unspoken. Things felt.
You should have stopped it there.
But instead, your fingers found his lapel.
You tilted your head, rested your brow to his. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you like you were a secret he could not bear to part with.
No kiss was exchanged.
But everything else was.
And when he pulled away—slowly, painfully—you were left breathless.
“I must go,” he said, voice ragged.
“Yes,” you whispered. “You must.”
But neither of you moved for a long time.
Eventually, Lando stepped back into the shadows, vanishing as quietly as he had come, swallowed by the very night that had hidden him.
You stood alone beneath the moon, heart in your throat, shame clashing against longing like thunder in a storm.
Above, the windows of the manor remained dark.
And somewhere in the shadows, Lady Whistledown was lurking—ready to set fire to everything you thought you could keep hidden.
It began with distance.
Not a loud, dramatic withdrawal, but the quiet sort—measured, precise, and maddening. The sort that makes one question if they had only imagined everything that came before.
In the days following that moonlit confession in the garden, you did not see the Duke of Bristol.
Not at your aunt’s musical evening, nor at the Ridley’s spring fête, nor even at the bishop’s charity breakfast where half the ton gathered.
Your eyes sought him in every room, in every carriage that passed, in every drawing room filled with polite chatter and tittering laughter.
And yet, Lando Norris was nowhere.
He had disappeared into his obligations, back into the arms of his duty. Back into the orbit of Lady Magui, the delicate, quiet beauty whose every movement was approved by society and whose name elicited smiles from even the most difficult dowagers.
You told yourself you were glad.
You told yourself that it was for the best, that perhaps the silence between you was a mercy—a clean break before your emotions bled too deeply into places they should never reach.
But your heart betrayed you. It ached.
And Lady Whistledown, that ever-watchful specter, had not ceased her musings:
“It seems our midnight mystery continues to haunt the halls of Mayfair. The Bridgerton diamond sparkles at every ball, but perhaps it is only a clever polish hiding the cracks of a broken heart. Meanwhile, her Duke grows colder by the day, seen with his betrothed but never quite of her. How long before something shatters?”
You’d burned that issue.
Still, when in public, you wore your finest silks and your brightest smiles.
You laughed with your cousins and took your turn at the pianoforte. You smiled at Lord Dewhurst’s forgettable jokes and danced the cotillion with Sir Edwin Baines, though his feet resembled a drunken pony.
Your poise did not falter.
Not even when Prince Luke Browning—a distant relative of the royal family with a dazzling uniform and a reputation for wooing women—arrived in London and requested a dance from you.
The ton hummed with speculation, and your mother beamed so widely that the pearl comb in her hair threatened to fall loose.
You agreed to the dance.
And when you turned beneath the flickering chandeliers at Lady Ashcombe’s masquerade, you caught the gaze of him.
Lando.
Standing on the edge of the ballroom in a coat of deep navy, his jaw set tight, his posture stiff, his eyes locked on you with the intensity of a man barely containing himself.
Magui stood by his side, her gloved hand resting lightly on his arm. She did not notice how still he’d gone, or how his gaze never left you.
You turned your face from him and smiled at the Prince instead.
And yet, your skin prickled. You felt him watching.
The next morning, the tension broke.
It was a grey-skied affair, the weather perfectly matching the storm that brewed within Lando’s chest as he paced his family’s London townhouse.
He had left the ball early, ignoring the questions Magui had begun to ask, ignoring the gnawing of his own conscience.
He could not forget the image of your laughter with Prince Luke Browning. The soft pink of your lips as you smiled at someone else. The curve of your arm in his grasp.
It haunted him, poisoned him.
And suddenly, the life he had agreed to live—duty, name, legacy—all felt like a shackle around his neck.
Magui found him in the drawing room, standing by the fire, hands clenched.
“Lando,” she said gently. “You’ve been… strange. We should speak.”
He turned to her, and for the first time, saw her clearly.
She was beautiful. Graceful. Kind. A woman any man would be fortunate to call his duchess.
But she was not you.
“I owe you the truth,” he said at last, voice hoarse.
She blinked. “What truth?”
“I cannot marry you.”
There was a silence so loud it became a roar in his ears.
“You—what?”
“I have tried to be the man everyone expects me to be. For my estate. For my name. For the House of Lords and the papers and every grandmother in Mayfair,” he said.
“But I can no longer lie to you. Or to myself.”
She stared at him, pale and quiet.
“There is someone else,” she said finally.
His silence was all the answer she needed.
To her credit, Magui did not scream, nor cry. She only nodded once, stiffly, her shoulders drawing upward in practiced dignity.
“I hope she is worth the scandal,” she said.
“She is.”
Magui left the room without another word.
Lando remained by the fire long after she had gone, breathing like a man who had just shattered the glass walls of his own prison.
He had no plan. No speech. Only a certainty that no title, no alliance, no approval was worth living without you.
And somewhere, across the city, you sat in your family’s drawing room, pretending not to be affected, pretending not to care.
But you did not know—not yet—that the Duke of Bristol was already on his way to you.
The morning after the ball, London awoke not to the gentle rustle of society’s carriages or the distant toll of chapel bells, but to chaos — or rather, the sweetest kind of chaos: gossip.
Lady Whistledown’s latest column had arrived at breakfast tables across the city like a cannonball through crystal.
“Dearest readers, if the art of scandal were a season sport, the ton would be on its way to the championship. For it seems our infamous Duke of Bristol has committed a most shocking act: he has ended his betrothal to Lady Magui…without offering a reason. But those with eyes at Lady Ashcombe’s masquerade might suspect his heart beats for a different beauty—one whose name has danced through these pages before.”
Your name.
The moment Emma slammed the paper on the breakfast table, you felt the blood drain from your face.
You skimmed the lines, throat tightening, hands trembling just slightly as you set your teacup down with forced calm.
The room erupted around you — your sisters gasping, your mother going stiff with silent horror, your brothers exchanging sharp looks.
Only Violet Bridgerton, your graceful grandmother, regarded you with quiet strength, her gaze calm but knowing.
It was true, wasn’t it?
The ton’s whispers grew louder by the hour. At Gunter’s, ladies lowered their parasols to whisper behind fans. At Hyde Park, gentlemen on horseback eyed you curiously.
The Bridgerton name carried weight — but not even centuries of honor could shield you entirely.
By the time invitations for the Queen’s charity gala arrived that afternoon, you were exhausted. Your reputation, once spotless, now walked a tightrope.
You knew all it would take was one more misstep — one careless glance, one whisper in the wrong ear — to undo everything.
And so, you dressed for the royal gala in defiance.
In a gown of Bridgerton blue, you entered the ballroom like a goddess descending through the clouds — head held high, lips painted in delicate rouge, a practiced smile in place. But the air was sharp.
Conversations paused when you passed. Glances lingered. The glittering chandeliers above did not shine as brightly as the judgement in every pair of eyes.
Until Lando appeared.
The Duke of Bristol strode into the ballroom like a storm. Dressed in black and gold, hair tousled, his jaw set in unwavering determination, he looked nothing like the polished, pliable man society once praised.
He looked like a man on the edge of something monumental.
And then he walked straight toward you.
The music faded. The chatter dulled. The crowd seemed to part for him, curiosity rippling like the tide.
“Lady Bridgerton,” he said, voice low but clear.
You met his gaze — eyes dark with something unspoken, heart in your throat.
“Your Grace.”
There was a beat.
And then Lando dropped to one knee.
The ballroom gasped.
Gasps, whispers, even a shriek from the Duchess of Norwich somewhere near the card tables.
“Forgive me,” Lando said, eyes locked on yours.
“For being a coward. For waiting too long. For letting duty drown out what I already knew.”
“Lando—”
“I have loved you since the moment you turned away from me at that first ball. You are impossible, brilliant, and maddening. And you have every right to hate me.” He paused, breath caught.
“But if I let you walk away now, I will be haunted for the rest of my life.”
Tears burned at your lashes.
“Marry me, before every hungry eye in this room. Before Whistledown can write another word. Before anyone else dares cast a shadow over your name. Not to save your reputation—” His voice broke.
“But because I want you. I choose you.”
A hush fell over the room like snowfall.
Your family was frozen across the ballroom — your mother clutching your father’s arm, your siblings slack-jawed. Somewhere, Lady Magui watched from the corner, her expression unreadable.
And you…?
You knelt to meet him, your gloved hands curling into his as the ballroom erupted around you.
“Yes.”
Lando surged to his feet and kissed your hand, then your cheek — his restraint razor-thin, but holding.
The Queen, amused and watching, gave a faint clap. And as violins swelled again, Lando whispered against your ear:
“We leave them speechless, don’t we?”
You smiled through your tears. “We always did.”
From the corner of the room, Lady Whistledown’s latest informant scribbled furiously. But for once, no scandal could taint what had just occurred.
The Duke had chosen his Duchess.
And the ton would never forget the night love defied reputation — and won.
“Though I have chronicled many tales of scandal, deception, and heartbreak this season, it appears there is still room—however begrudgingly—for true affection to bloom amongst the roses of society. And bloom it has, most spectacularly. The Duke of Bristol and Miss Bridgerton shall soon wed, and though tongues will continue to wag and pens continue to scribble, this author dares to admit…they may just deserve their happy ending.” — Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers
For once, her tone lacked its usual venom.
There was a pause to her words, an almost reluctant grace — as if even the most infamous gossip in all of London had run out of reasons not to root for you.
The world had shifted since Lando’s public proposal. The ton, in its fickle way, had turned the scandal into celebration.
Seamstresses worked around the clock to replicate your gown from the gala. Poets attempted sonnets inspired by the drama.
The Queen herself had summoned you both for a brief word — and, with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, given her approval.
Now, the sun cast a warm golden hue across the hills as the Bridgerton estate prepared for the wedding of the season.
Beneath it all, however, the house hummed with stillness.
You had asked for a few moments alone before the final fittings, before the guests arrived, before the orchestra began to tune their strings.
You slipped away through the garden, skirts gathered gently in your gloved hands, your heart already aching with the anticipation of the moment to come. And as if by fate’s gentle hand, there he was.
Lando, leaning against the ivy-covered archway, jacket open, waistcoat slightly askew, the breeze tugging at his hair.
His eyes found you instantly.
“No chaperones,” he said, smirking. “How scandalous of you.”
“I believe we’re beyond worrying about scandal now, Your Grace.”
“I believe I told you to stop calling me that.”
“And I believe you enjoy it too much when I do.”
He laughed, that warm, quiet sound that curled into your chest. You walked toward him slowly, aware of every step, every heartbeat.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
You smiled, even as you lowered your gaze. “I’m not even in my wedding gown yet.”
“You could be wrapped in a curtain and I’d still lose my breath.”
He reached for your hands, his fingers brushing your gloves like they were sacred things. For a long, quiet moment, neither of you spoke.
“I never thought it would be this,” he admitted.
“Not with the way I grew up. Not with the way I was taught to keep everything buried — to play the part of the duke, never the man.”
“And now?”
“Now…” He looked at you. Really looked. “Now I know that love doesn’t ruin duty. It gives it meaning.”
Your throat tightened. “And you’re not scared?”
“Terrified,” he said, smiling. “But only of tripping over my vows.”
You laughed, the sound catching on the breeze like music. The garden shimmered in late afternoon light, the flowers in bloom, the roses opening wide as if in blessing.
“I’ll be your wife in less than an hour,” you whispered.
“And I’ll be yours,” he said, pulling you gently into his arms. “Entirely. Eternally.”
You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest.
The world felt still again. No whispers, no papers, no masks. Just the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the heat of his palm against the small of your back.
“I hope Whistledown is fuming,” you said quietly.
“Oh, she’s furious,” Lando teased. “But even she had to admit defeat.”
“And Lady Magui?”
“Left for Paris last week. Sent her best. I believe she intends to marry a count.”
“Good for her.”
“Great for us.”
He kissed your temple, soft and reverent. “Are you ready?”
You pulled back enough to meet his eyes — golden-brown, unwavering.
“I’ve never been readier.”
The bells tolled in the distance. The orchestra’s first notes floated faintly through the hedges.
And hand in hand, you walked back toward the manor — not as a secret or a scandal, not as a rumor or a possibility, but as the beginning of something true.
The season ended not with disgrace, nor a duel, nor a tragic parting.
It ended with love. Bold, scandalous, extraordinary love.
And in the next morning’s paper, nestled beneath Lady Whistledown’s formal farewell for the season, was one final line that needed no embellishment:
“Dearest gentle reader, they married for love—and for once, I approve.”
Okay, there was this video, that did things to me sadly. And then this drabble was the outcome. Am I fully back to writing? Not really. Somehow it's hard for me to just sit down and write, but this one was really fun. Hopefully I will kick myself back to normal before summer ends and will finish up all the half done wips I have 🥺 But until then, I hope you will enjoy this and all my other works 😊 Have a great Friday everyone! 🧡
Prequel & Sequel & Hide&Seek
Masterlist | Taglist/Queue | Request
“ Do you have a bit of time after this? ” I looked up from my phone, turning my head towards Daniel who was laying on the massage bed while Michael worked on his back. He turned his head towards me immediately, his eyes a bit sleepy as they usually do during these sessions.
“ Yeah. Before the interviews… Why? ” He asked back, his lashes almost touching his cheeks already, the whole drowsy look on him making me chuckle. It was a mistake as his eyes shot open at the little cooing noise that Ava let out at me shaking her with my laughing.
For a second all three of us held our breath, staying as silent as possible in order not to let the situation fall out of our control. After 4 months we all knew well how this, otherwise deemed cute, sound was usually followed by crying that was always a challenge to make stop. Even Michael stopped his movements, looking at the baby who was laying on my chest, astonishingly still asleep, only getting back to the massage when we could be sure Ava didn’t actually wake up. I let out a relieved sigh, lifting a hand onto her back, gently stroking to make sure she really would stay asleep.
“ I just want to go to the bathroom before we leave if you have time to hold her for a bit. ” I got back to why in the first place I spoke up, watching as Mike got back to the massage as well. I was always amazed by how much he knew all the tiny places where Dan could have knots and tiny pains, and also knew how to help him with them. “ It’s going to be quick, and I can take her back before you have to leave for media duty. ” I added, although I knew he wouldn’t reject what I asked for anyways. He always took just as much care of Ava as I did, the both of us sharing every part of her life.
“ Course. Just a minute or two and I can take her. ” He sent me a smile and Michael nodded as well, agreeing with the time frame Dan gave us. “ You’re staying the whole day, right? ” Without looking in their way I just nodded a little as we didn’t have any plans other than supporting him through the Free practice and Qualification rounds today, and then going home together when he was finally free.
As promised, just a few minutes later Dan got off the bed, pulling on a McLaren shirt and coming closer to sit down right next to me. I carefully gave his daughter over to him and just watched as Dan leaned back, with his signature smirk already visible on his lips as Ava slowly blinked her eyes open. She already had her usual nap, meaning Dan would get to spend some time with her awake until they would have to leave. As much as I wanted to stay and just watch them until the world ends, my urges were stronger and got me to finally leave the driver room as soon as I had my hoodie on. It was already well into autumn but also an exceptionally cold and windy day right from the start. Even through the hoodie I could feel the air pricking my skin everywhere it could come into contact with. If I didn’t know better I would have guessed we were already at least at the start of the winter season. I was glad we could finally fly to a race together, but would have liked to pick one with better weather if I knew in advance.
I tried to be quick with my journey, but thanks to the hospitality’s bathroom having a bunch of people in front of it in a queue I braved myself and tried finding another one. However the paddock here, in the Netherlands, was totally new to me as I never attended the Dutch Grand Prix before. It took me at least 10 minutes to find another toilet and even on my way back I managed to get a bit lost between all the hospitalities and motorhomes. In the end, after around 20 minutes and getting help from a Mercedes employee, who probably recognized me and was quite surprised I required some assistance to navigate the paddock, I finally arrived back at the building and could get up to the driver room. It didn’t completely surprise me when the room was already empty both human and clothing wise, which told me they were either on their way to the media pen or already doing some interviews.
With another sigh I took my jacket from the hook on the wall and left the room in hopes of finding the media pen without another journey where I get lost in such a small and organized space. Fortunately the sounds helped a lot to lead me to the side of the pen, from where I could easily spot Dan and his communication personel right next to him. My face would have resonated with his grin anyways but the sight of Ava right beneath his jacket, with only the top of her head sticking out, made it even wider on my face. I was stuck in place, just watching him speak, with one arm under the little girl's butt just to give that extra bit of support, while the other flailed around in rhythm with his words. Moments like these made me realise anyone could have been sure she was Dan’s kid by how much she was kicking and flailing around even before she was born. Then she finally decided to meet us and came out as a perfect carbon copy of her dad in every way possible.
He was so focused on the questions and the answers he was giving to them, that he didn’t spot me right until I was truly in front of him and right next to the interviewer. She was someone I knew quite well, since Daniel somehow always managed to get a few minutes of conversation with her into his day, either about F1 or just general topics outside of the media pen. That’s exactly why I dared to interrupt them quickly, although she beat me to speaking up.
“ Oh, so you didn’t run away. ” She turned to me for a second, and I appreciated that the camera stayed the same way on Dan. As much as we were public all the way, I didn’t mind staying off screen most of the time. “ He said you left saying it’s only 5 minutes but then never came back. ” She jokingly rolled her eyes, letting me a bit closer so I won’t have to shout.
“ Yeah, I got a bit lost… Just the usual, as new paddocks always disorient me. ” Laughter bubbled out of me at my own stupidity, before turning to Daniel and Ava. “ But I can take her if you want. Don’t want her to be in the way. ” I reached out my hand in offering, but he didn’t seem like giving up his little cuddly package.
“ Nah. She’s pretty comfy. ” Dan shook his head, looking down at her tiny head and fixed the jacket to make sure it wasn’t too tight and also wouldn’t get in the way of her breathing. “ Right? We’re getting used to this kangaroo style. It should be in my blood anyways. ” He shrugged a little, making me chuckle at his Australia joke as I stepped back a little.
“ Just stay away from jumping around. ” I let out a sigh, but knew he wouldn’t do anything dangerous. As much as he had his few shares of sport injuries and extreme sports he liked to do, around Ava those tendencies got buried deep down. “ I’m gonna be with Michael, if you need me to take her anyways. ” I added, making sure she wouldn’t be in the way if she starts fussing or anything of that accord. As much as she was a peaceful baby, she had her moments.
“ We’re happy to see her, as well. I feel honored to get her first interview done. ” The interviewer turned towards me with a grin, which helped calm my anxiety about her being a nuisance for them in any way. “ Natalie tried to steal her away a few minutes ago though, so I would be careful around the paddock and pit lane. You can never know where she shows up. ” She shielded her mouth like anyone would try and hear what she told us, while I let out a quiet laugh at the idea.
We exchanged a few words but then I said my goodbyes and slowly got out of the media crowd, without stepping on anyone’s feet or bumping into them too much. Finding Michael wasn’t a challenge as he always stood out from the crowd, literally. Standing right next to him I watched as he prepared a few more things for the post-interview plans and also got his helmet half-ready for race day. I was always amazed at how much work actually goes into a race weekend like this and I was sure behind the scenes there was even more I will probably never see. Mike was just finishing up with the helmet’s visor when Dan left the pen and immediately turned our way. Without anyone stopping him on the way in just seconds he was already standing next to me, taking the little snack away that Mike was handing him.
“ So you introduced her to the big public and the world of interviews? ” My hand lifted to pull down the zipper on his jacket and reveal a bit more of Ava. The air was still chilly, but it didn’t hurt her for that one second while I left a kiss on her head and pulled it back up. “ Did you wrap the scarf yourself? ” I couldn’t wait for his answer before asking another question, now looking up at him.
“ He may have gotten a bit of help, but did it mostly alone. ” Michael beat him to it, not letting him tell any lies, and then endured when Dan decided to punish him by slapping his arm with the snack he got and was still just opening up.
“ I feel offended that you think I’m not paying attention when you show me. ” Dan huffed out, finally taking a bite from the bar and munching away. My brows might have lifted for a second but in the end I couldn’t hold back my laughter. “ I’m just a slow learner, and this can end with a scary situation if I mess it up. ” He added with a shrug, making me shake my head a little as well. We both knew he would be too careful and would take several precautions before trying anything new that could harm Ava or any child if we’re at it.
“ Let’s get back to the hotel. I’m sure she’s exhausted after stealing so many hearts throughout the day. ” I stroked Ava’s back gently through the fabric of the jacket and she let out a little groan, almost like she wanted to agree to my words. The three of us had a little laugh about how she probably will be the chattiest person in the future if this is where we start from, as we slowly walked to the parking lot.
summary: you and Kimi have been dating in secret and have no plans to reveal to the world that you are together. However, emotions of a victory run high and Kimi unintentionally ends up outing you two.
warnings: not proofread.
You and Kimi have been dating secretly for about 6 months now. The only reason this has been a secret is that Kimi didn't want you to be involved if he didn't meet expectations, even though you've told him you can handle it. Boy, does not play about you, though, and adamantly refuses every single time you bring up the idea of launching your relationship. Your main reason for wanting to launch the relationship is not, however, that you want people to know. It's that you can finally be a normal girlfriend, and walk about the paddock with him, and hug him the way you want, after he does well in the race. Currently, you're forced to be a bystander, applauding while he celebrates with the other drivers, and finding him later in his room to celebrate behind closed doors. It had been romantic and fun in the beginning, but now it felt suffocating.
For this weekend, the race was in Bahrain, arguably one of the worst tracks, where a lot of drivers gave up because it got way too hot in the car to keep going. You were fussing over Kimi the morning of the race.
"Make sure to do a long ice bath," you pace anxiously in your pyjamas while he sits at the edge of the bed, putting his socks on.
"I will," he responds, smiling slightly to himself. He finds it endearing how you're fussing over him.
You continue pacing, fidgeting with your hands. "And don't force yourself to finish the race if you start feeling sick. Just park on the side and get out."
Kimi finishes tying his shoes and reaches for your hands, halting you in your pacing. He gently held your chin between his fingers and gave you a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine, bella," he murmurs quietly. "I love that you're so worried about me, though."
He cups your cheek, and you tilt your head into his touch. "It's just a bad track," you murmur quietly, still looking into his soft, brown eyes for reassurance. "I want you to be safe."
"How can I not be when I've got you rooting for me?" he murmurs with a flirty smile.
Your cheeks turn a dusty pink, and you press a kiss to his palm. "Always."
Kimi smiles before standing up. He presses a kiss to your lips for good luck and a final one to your hairline before whispering, "I'll see you after the race, amore mio. Ti amo, bella." He starts stepping away, still not letting go of your hand.
"Ti amo, Kimi," you reply, fingers finally brushing his before he walks out the door.
You're standing in the garage, headphones on as you watch the mechanics finish readying the cars. Kimi is starting P7, meaning he has a fair shot at getting a podium. You just hope he doesn't risk his health chasing that position.
The mechanics eventually rush off the circuit and mentally do a countdown till the lights go off. You let out an exhale as soon as the cars start moving.
Kimi holds pretty well throughout the race, steadily moving up the positions.
By around the 50th lap, drivers started complaining due to overheating, with Hulkenberg dropping out by the 51st lap. You're getting more and more anxious for Kimi, praying to anyone who listens that he stays safe.
He's up to 4th place now and on his 55th lap. Drivers are dropping out like flies now because of overheating. You rub your hands anxiously while watching the screen.
"C'mon, Kimi," you mutter under your breath, shifting your weight from one foot to another.
"A remarkable move from the 19-year-old driver!" Crofty announces enthusiastically. "Overtaking four-time world champion Max Verstappen from the outside in turn six! Antonelli is now officially on the podium, claiming number 3!"
You cheer along with the rest of the team, clapping and smiling at the screen as pride fills your chest. There's just one more lap to go.
"And Oscar Piastri wins the Bahrain Grand Prix!" Crofty announces. "With Lando Norris in on his tail, and it's a McLaren 1-2. And that's another podium finish for the 19-year-old Italian, Kimi Antonelli!"
The entire Mercedes team starts cheering excitedly, hugging each other, and clapping. You clap and cheer along with everyone. Toto stands up to hug everyone, smiling widely, proud of his little prodigy. You hug Toto, keeping in mind to contain your reaction a little bit so people don't suspect anything is happening. A camera is shoved into your face as you and Toto hug.
Netflix, ugh, you internally roll your eyes. Netflix are a real bunch of cunts, aren't they?
When Kimi pulls his car into the parc fermé and gets out, the mechanics stand there, cheering loudly for him. You stand behind Toto, clapping and cheering along with the team.
Kimi peels off his helmet and balaclava excitedly, tossing them onto his number 3 pedestal with reckless abandon, running towards the group with his arms open. The mechanics make way, everyone expecting him to clash into Toto, but Toto knows he's not the one Kimi seeks. He sidesteps slightly and nudges you forward.
You look at him with wide eyes for only a second before Kimi, sweaty and smiling and oh so happy, collides into you in a bone-crushing hug.
You're too stunned for a second to process what's happening, but then your arms wrap around him tightly.
"Did you see that, amore mia?" he asks excitedly. "I did it!" he pulls away to look at your face.
You smile just as widely. "You did it, tesoro!"
Kimi's smile widened even more, if that were possible. He absolutely adored hearing you speak his native language. The two of you lost yourselves in one another, and the rest of the world did not exist. Meaning, you did not see the confused looks the mechanics shot one another, did not notice the bewilderment on race engineers' faces, or the knowing smirk on Toto as he watched the two of you aodringly.
Cat's out of the bag, I guess.
"What happened to keeping this a secret?" you whisper to Kimi.
He simply smiled in response before pulling you into a deep kiss, leaving the entire team gawking. I guess Netflix has found this episode's selling point.
⋮ SYN. 🎙️ ┆how to get the guy that’s on your radar
𓏲ּ𝄢 multi drivers ( ka12, ob87, op81, gr63, cl16, cs55, ln1, mv3 ) x gn ! reader ╱ smau, romance, random dynamics lowk ! ∘ ∘ ∘ ✶ none, just reader shooting that SHOT (they somehow made it in guys 😭✌️😭✌️😭) 𓂃 🗯️ just a little something as i have been lurking in my drafts, working on things slowly 🤫
❤︎ ─── ❝ you’ll be, oh, so glad that i met ya ❞ ⧽ 𓉘 𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𓉝
FEI'S RADIO 𓂃 🗯️ i feel like in some of these u can see me slowly lose ideas LMAOOOO never let me in the studio again .
Synopsis: Y/N Browning, Slytherin’s top student, and Ollie Bearman, Gryffindor’s Quidditch captain, have always clashed. But when McGonagall pairs them up for a project, their rivalry turns into something unexpected. As they spend more time together, Y/N learns that letting someone in might not be so bad after all.
Genre: Slowburn, Fluff, Enemies to Lovers
AU: Hogwarts!au
Pairing: Ollie Bearman x Fem!Reader
Warnings: If being an asshole is a warning I’m putting that in.
Note: To be completely honest this was a random idea that came up because I was looking for F1 x Harry Potter fics and couldn’t find any, so I made my own? Anyways, I hope you guys nerd out to this because I miss the Hogwarts rabbit hole I used to go through in 2020. As always, don’t forget to like + reblog if you enjoyed!
The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as the Gryffindor Quidditch team entered for dinner, their victorious faces beaming from yet another win.
You couldn’t stop the sneer that tugged at your lips when your eyes landed on Ollie Bearman, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.
Of course, he was the first to stand up and wave at the crowd, soaking in their adoration like a smug, self-satisfied lion.
Ollie Bearman. The perfect Gryffindor.
Everything about him annoyed you—from his flawless posture to the way he casually tossed his messy brown hair as though it were some kind of trademark move.
He wasn’t just a Quidditch captain, he was the golden boy, the darling of every Gryffindor. His confidence was unshakable, and it rubbed you the wrong way more than you cared to admit.
You rolled your eyes and turned back to your dinner, not sparing him another glance. But it wasn’t enough to escape the sound of his laughter as he shared a joke with his teammates, their boisterous voices filling the room.
You hated it.
You hated how effortlessly he commanded attention, how everyone just adored him for no reason other than the fact that he was a Gryffindor. You hated how he walked around like he owned the place.
That was when your friend, Isla, nudged you.
"He's looking at you," she whispered with a mischievous grin.
You narrowed your eyes, knowing exactly who she meant.
Ollie Bearman, no doubt enjoying the fact that you were sitting there fuming over his mere existence.
You didn’t even have to look up—he was probably grinning that cocky grin of his.
“I don’t care,” you muttered, stabbing your fork into your food. “He’s just some Quidditch-obsessed Gryffindor who thinks the world revolves around him.”
“Careful, Y/n," Isla teased, her tone mocking. "You wouldn't want to lose your cool in front of the Quidditch King."
You scoffed, too irritated to respond. Ollie Bearman had somehow managed to turn Quidditch into his entire identity.
He had that perfect, shiny Gryffindor arrogance—an arrogance that made you sick.
Later that evening, you found yourself at the Three Broomsticks with a few friends, attempting to unwind after a long week of academic stress.
You hadn’t expected to see him here. But of course, Ollie Bearman and his teammates stormed in, laughing and talking too loudly for your liking.
They sat at a table near yours, and you had no choice but to overhear the conversation. Ollie’s voice carried through the air, boasting about his latest victory.
“You should’ve seen the look on their faces,” Ollie said, grinning ear to ear. “We were unbeatable today. Another win for Gryffindor!”
The table around him laughed, and your irritation bubbled over. You couldn’t take it anymore.
"Must be nice, winning at a game that involves no real strategy," you called out, your voice cutting through the room.
Isla shot you a look of warning, but it was too late. The challenge had been thrown down.
Ollie’s gaze shifted to you, that familiar, infuriating smirk spreading across his face.
“Well, if it isn’t the Slytherin genius,” he drawled, his voice dripping with that all-too-familiar arrogance. “What’s the matter, couldn’t handle being in second place in the academic race?”
A flare of heat rose to your cheeks, but you didn’t back down.
“At least I don’t think winning a game with a broom makes me important,” you retorted, leaning back in your chair with a challenge in your eyes.
“Perhaps if you spent a little more time in the library and less time with your broomstick, you’d understand how real success works.”
A few of his teammates snickered, but Ollie didn’t miss a beat. He stood up, crossing the room toward you with a confident swagger.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure books are very important in your world,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned casually against your table.
“But in the real world, we have to do things to prove our worth. Not just sit around and read about them.”
You clenched your jaw, your eyes narrowing. “I’d rather be doing something productive than pretending a game about flying on a stick matters. You’d never understand the importance of intellect, Bearman.”
His eyes flashed with amusement, but there was something else there too—something you couldn’t quite place.
“We’ll see about that, won’t we, Browning?”
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of sharp words, unspoken challenges, and ever-present tension between you and Ollie.
The rivalry was no longer just about House pride—it had become personal, a battle between two personalities that seemed destined to clash.
The days after the confrontation at the Three Broomsticks felt like a storm was brewing. Every time you crossed paths with Ollie Bearman, that same, infuriating smirk was plastered on his face.
As if you hadn’t already made it clear you couldn’t stand his presence.
You tried your best to ignore him, to focus on your studies and maintaining your position as the top student of your year. But every time you heard his laugh or saw his arrogant grin, the heat of frustration flared up again.
It was a cold afternoon when you found yourself once again in a situation where you had no choice but to deal with Ollie.
Professor McGonagall had just announced that the students of your year were being assigned to work together for an extra-credit project on magical creatures.
The task? Track down and document a rare and dangerous magical beast deep in the Forbidden Forest. The catch? Every pair had to be carefully chosen by the professors—and, of course, in their infinite wisdom, McGonagall had paired you with none other than Ollie Bearman.
You had tried to argue, but McGonagall had simply raised an eyebrow and told you, “This will help you learn how to work with someone outside your usual circle, Miss Browning.”
You had to bite back the sarcastic remark that was already forming on your tongue.
It wasn’t the first time you’d had to work with someone you didn’t like, but it was the first time you’d been forced into a group with Ollie.
When you met him at the edge of the Forbidden Forest the next morning, he was already waiting, leaning casually against a tree, looking like he had absolutely no concerns in the world.
His Gryffindor confidence was on full display, and you could already feel the annoyance bubbling in your stomach.
"Finally decided to show up, Browning?" he teased, pushing off from the tree and smiling like he knew he had won some small victory just by getting there first.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Bearman,” you snapped back, brushing past him without making eye contact. “Let’s just get this over with.”
He smirked, but for once, it wasn’t filled with that usual arrogance. There was something else in his eyes—something more playful, like he was daring you to rise to the challenge.
“I’m just here for the creature,” he said, “but I have to admit, working with you might make this a little more interesting.”
You turned to face him, glaring. “Let’s just get one thing clear. If you get in my way, Bearman, I will leave you here. I don’t need some Quidditch-obsessed Gryffindor to get this job done.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your defiance.
“You sure about that? I seem to recall your strategy didn’t go so well in the last encounter with a magical creature. Maybe you could use my help after all.”
Your teeth clenched. You remembered that disastrous incident in the classroom last week when Ollie had pointed out, in front of the whole class, that your spell had backfired, causing your potion to explode. He had never let you forget it, using it as ammunition in every argument ever since.
“You really are full of yourself,” you muttered under your breath, but Ollie seemed to enjoy pushing your buttons.
“Only because I know I’m better than you,” he shot back, his grin widening as you shot him a glare.
With no other choice, you set off into the woods, Ollie following closely behind, still full of his usual swagger.
As you ventured deeper into the forest, the atmosphere grew more oppressive, the shadows from the tall trees stretching across the path, thickening with every step.
You could hear the distant rustling of magical creatures in the underbrush, but Ollie seemed oblivious, happily whistling as though he was on a leisurely walk in the park.
“Stay focused,” you snapped, reaching for your wand. “This isn’t a game, Ollie.”
He finally stopped whistling, giving you a mock salute. “Aye, captain.”
You bit back a retort, knowing that any attempt to argue would only fuel his insufferable attitude. But despite your frustration, there was a small part of you that begrudgingly admired how easily he navigated the forest.
It was clear he had an innate sense of bravery, charging forward with little fear of the dangers lurking behind every tree.
Suddenly, a rustling sound interrupted your thoughts. You immediately raised your wand, ready for whatever creature might appear. But Ollie’s reaction was even quicker.
He darted ahead, using his quick reflexes to grab something darting out of the brush before you could cast a spell.
In a fluid motion, he captured a small, silver-winged creature in his hand, holding it out to you with a grin.
“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
You blinked, stunned for a moment.
The creature he held was delicate, shimmering with magical energy. It was a rare species you had studied in class, but had never seen in person.
For a brief moment, you felt something other than annoyance toward Ollie. He had done something impressive. Something that actually required skill.
It wasn’t enough to erase all the bitterness you felt toward him, but it was a crack in the armor of your dislike.
“You’re not as useless as I thought,” you muttered, lowering your wand, though your tone was still clipped.
Ollie gave a soft laugh. “I can be more than just a Quidditch captain, you know. I do have a bit of brain in this head.”
You shot him a skeptical glance, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “Don’t get cocky, Bearman. We still have a long way to go.”
The journey continued with more shared silences and subtle exchanges of respect. Neither of you was willing to admit it, but something was shifting—an uneasy truce beginning to form as you ventured deeper into the forest, side by side.
As the day stretched on, and the deeper you and Ollie ventured into the Forbidden Forest, the more you realized just how much you were beginning to notice him.
Every sharp turn he made, every instinctual move to keep you safe—whether it was spotting a dangerous creature or grabbing your arm to pull you out of harm’s way—you couldn’t deny that there was more to Ollie Bearman than the smug Gryffindor captain you had loathed for years.
It made you uncomfortable, to be honest. You had built an entire narrative in your head about who Ollie was: arrogant, reckless, and obsessed with Quidditch.
But seeing him here, out in the wild, working as a team with you—granted, begrudgingly—you realized that you hadn’t really seen him at all.
“So,” Ollie began, breaking the silence, “what do you actually think of Quidditch, then? I know you think it’s pointless, but I’m curious. If you were the captain, what would you change?”
You turned to look at him, surprised at the question. It wasn’t like Ollie to ask about your opinion unless it involved him somehow proving he was better than you.
Still, you could see a shift in the way he looked at you—a more curious, thoughtful gaze.
“I think Quidditch is just a distraction,” you said, your voice guarded.
“It’s just... a game. People treat it like it’s the most important thing in the world, but at the end of the day, it’s just about winning and losing. There’s no real value in it beyond that.”
Ollie’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t seem angry. Instead, there was a spark of interest in his expression.
“So you think there’s no skill involved? That I’m just some distracted player?”
“No,” you corrected quickly, shaking your head.
“I didn’t say that. There’s skill, of course, but I don’t think it’s worth putting everything into. There’s more to life than flying on a broomstick and chasing a ball around.”
Ollie stopped walking, and for a moment, he was silent, almost as if he was processing your words.
You glanced over your shoulder, but his eyes were fixed on the ground, a thoughtful expression on his face.
The forest felt strangely still around you, the usual rustling of leaves replaced by the weight of the moment.
“You know,” Ollie finally said, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “sometimes I think you’re a little bit too serious for your own good. But I get it. You’re a Slytherin. You’re supposed to think everything else is beneath you.”
You bristled at his words. “I don’t think anything is beneath me. I just know what I want, and I don’t waste time on things that won’t get me anywhere.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your defensiveness. “Is that why you’re so... intense? So determined to always be the best at everything?”
The question hit a little too close to home.
You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
Ollie chuckled, that easy, carefree laugh that always seemed to get under your skin.
“Fine, fine. But you know, if you ever decided to relax a little... maybe you’d see there’s more to life than books and grades.”
You shot him a sharp look. “And maybe if you focused on something other than Quidditch, you’d realize there’s more to the world than winning games.”
Ollie’s smile faltered just a bit, but it was enough for you to notice. He took a deep breath, eyes scanning the forest around you, and then gave you a sideways glance.
“Well, I guess we’re both just trying to prove we’re right about something,” he said softly, his tone a little less playful than before.
“Maybe that’s what makes us so similar.”
You blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged, still walking, but there was an odd sense of understanding in the way he held himself now.
“We both care too much about proving ourselves. You do it with your studies, I do it with Quidditch. We both put so much into what we’re passionate about... maybe that’s why we clash so much.”
You didn’t know how to respond to that. Part of you wanted to argue, to maintain the rivalry that had always defined your relationship, but another part of you—the part that had seen Ollie’s vulnerability for the first time—wanted to admit that maybe, just maybe, he was right.
Before you could say anything, a loud, eerie screech echoed from deeper within the forest.
The sound was enough to make your heart skip a beat, and Ollie’s expression shifted instantly into something more serious, more focused.
“That’s our cue,” he said, his voice now all business. “Stay close. It sounds like the creature we’re after.”
The next few hours passed in a blur of action. You and Ollie worked seamlessly together, your skills complementing each other in ways you hadn’t expected.
He was quick on his feet, fearless in the face of danger, while you used your knowledge of magical creatures to help guide your strategy.
There was a trust that had developed between you during the hunt, one that neither of you would acknowledge aloud, but it was there all the same.
When you finally managed to capture the rare creature and return to the castle, both of you were exhausted but victorious.
It was a rare moment of quiet between the two of you, standing just outside the entrance to the Forbidden Forest, the last of the evening light filtering through the trees.
Ollie turned to you, his gaze softer than you were used to. “Not bad, Browning. You might not be as insufferable as I thought.”
You smirked, still unwilling to admit how much you had come to respect him.
“You were all right too, Bearman. For a Gryffindor.”
He chuckled, that mischievous glint back in his eyes. “Guess you’ll just have to keep finding out how much more all right I can be.”
Your heart skipped in spite of yourself. It was infuriating, how easily Ollie seemed to get under your skin now.
You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline or the strange warmth in his voice, but something had shifted between the two of you.
And for the first time, you found yourself wondering—just for a second—if there was more to Ollie Bearman than just a Quidditch captain.
It had been a week since the Forbidden Forest trip, and the dynamic between you and Ollie had changed in ways you couldn’t quite explain.
While you were still far from friends, there was an undeniable shift. The tension that had once been a sharp, uncomfortable friction had softened into something that, though still fiery, was less about animosity and more about... understanding.
You found yourself meeting Ollie’s gaze more often than you cared to admit, and not in the usual confrontational way.
It was as if there was a silent acknowledgment between the two of you—the rivalry was still there, but it was starting to feel more like a game than a battle. And while you hated to admit it, you found yourself appreciating his quick reflexes, his unwavering determination.
He was more than just a Quidditch captain. He was actually... smart. Annoyingly smart.
But your thoughts were interrupted when Isla, your closest friend, cornered you in the library one afternoon, her eyes gleaming with the kind of curiosity you knew all too well.
"So," she began, a mischievous smile spreading across her face, "I’ve noticed something."
You looked up from your textbook, already feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "What are you talking about?"
"Don’t play coy with me," Isla teased, leaning in conspiratorially. "You and Ollie Bearman. Something’s... happening, isn’t it?"
You froze, the quill in your hand suddenly still. "What? No. I—" You stammered, trying to find an excuse.
"He’s just—he’s a Gryffindor. We’re working on a project together. That’s it."
Isla raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Sure. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other during dinner. You can cut the tension with a knife."
You leaned back in your chair, trying to collect yourself. "Isla, you’re imagining things. There’s nothing happening between us."
“Nothing, huh?” Isla’s grin widened, and she sat down beside you. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re not exactly hating him as much as you used to.”
You glanced around the library nervously. What if someone overheard? What if Ollie had been talking about the trip? What if your friends noticed the shift in your dynamic?
"Fine," you muttered, a bit too defensively. "Maybe he’s... not as bad as I thought."
Isla’s eyes lit up, and she leaned in even closer. "Ah, so there is something going on. I knew it!"
You scowled, pushing your book aside. "There’s nothing going on," you repeated firmly, though your tone lacked the conviction you had hoped for.
Before she could push any further, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you.
You turned just in time to see Ollie himself walking through the library doors, his usual grin plastered across his face as he waved at you.
“Hey, Browning,” he called out in his typical teasing tone, strolling up to your table. “You surviving this mind-numbing assignment?”
Your heart skipped a beat. It had only been a few minutes since you had been talking about him with Isla, and now here he was, acting like everything was perfectly normal.
You glared at him, but there was a strange warmth behind your annoyance.
“I was,” you said coolly, “until you interrupted me. What do you want?”
Ollie smirked, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil.
“Just thought I’d remind you that we’re meeting for the next part of our project later. Don’t forget. You know, it’s important to show up on time if you want to get the extra credit.”
You rolled your eyes, but something in his tone made you want to snap back with a witty retort.
"I won’t forget, Bearman. I’m not the one who’s too busy playing Quidditch to focus on anything else."
Ollie chuckled, clearly amused, and winked at you before turning to leave. "See you later, Browning. Try not to fall asleep on me, yeah?"
As soon as he was out of earshot, Isla grinned at you like a Cheshire cat. "Oh, it’s definitely happening."
You groaned and dropped your head onto your arms. “Can’t you just drop it already?”
Isla just laughed, her voice barely a whisper.
“I know you better than anyone, and something’s definitely changed. The way you two talk to each other? It’s not the same as before. Trust me, you’re not fooling anyone.”
The rest of the week seemed to drag on. You couldn’t shake the feeling that Ollie was always just a little too close—whether it was in the library, during classes, or even in the hallways after dinner.
It was as if your interactions with him were becoming less about the rivalry and more about something else entirely. Something confusing and... undeniably thrilling.
Then came the day when everything started to unravel.
You were heading to the Quidditch pitch with Isla after lunch when you ran into a couple of Ollie’s teammates, and much to your surprise, they didn’t give you the usual hostile treatment they reserved for Slytherins. Instead, they greeted you with an odd mixture of curiosity and amusement.
“Hey, Y/N,” one of them, Emma, said with a smile. “How’s the project going with Ollie? We’ve been hearing rumors that you two are getting along better than expected.”
You froze, unsure how to respond. Rumors?
“Yeah,” another teammate, Alex, chimed in. “It’s kind of hard to ignore how you two have been looking at each other lately. You two might actually make a decent team after all.”
Before you could stop yourself, your face flushed bright red, and Isla’s snicker didn’t help.
“What exactly are you all implying?” you demanded, though your voice trembled slightly.
Emma raised her hands in mock surrender. “Hey, no need to bite our heads off. We’re just saying, you two don’t hate each other as much as you used to. You’re practically friends now. Or whatever this is.”
You couldn’t meet their eyes as you quickly excused yourself, your mind racing with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment.
Were people really starting to notice? Were you actually starting to... like Ollie Bearman?
Isla shot you a knowing look as you walked away, and you knew you couldn’t hide the truth from her—or yourself—any longer.
The days after the encounter with Ollie’s teammates were a blur. It felt like everyone in school had caught wind of the fact that you and Ollie were spending more time together.
Even though it wasn’t true that you two were “friends,” it was starting to feel like something was changing.
The constant teasing from Isla and your classmates was starting to wear on you, but what bothered you the most was how often Ollie seemed to pop into your thoughts when you weren’t expecting it.
You could handle Isla’s teasing. She was your friend, after all. But it was Ollie’s subtle hints, the small gestures that seemed almost too thoughtful, that kept you off-balance.
Like when he saved you a seat at the Gryffindor table during dinner because your houses table was full or when he offered you his notes after class, claiming he had taken "extra care" to write neatly because he knew you’d appreciate it.
But you didn’t need to think about it. You had a reputation to maintain, and Ollie Bearman wasn’t someone you needed to be distracted by.
Still, every time you crossed paths with him, you couldn’t help but feel that strange flutter in your chest.
One evening, as the hectic exam season drew to a close, you found yourself walking down the hall toward the Slytherin dungeons, your mind occupied with thoughts of an upcoming project.
You hadn’t expected to run into Ollie that night. The hallways were unusually quiet, the only sound being the faint echo of footsteps on stone. But then you saw him.
Ollie was leaning against the wall just outside the entrance of your common room, his eyes scanning the hall with a kind of distracted look.
When he noticed you, though, his face lit up, and that familiar grin appeared.
“Y/N,” he greeted casually, though there was something different in the way he said your name this time. More familiar, less teasing.
You paused for a second, almost instinctively pushing your hair behind your ear. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you,” he replied without skipping a beat, his tone light but his eyes earnest.
“I was hoping we could talk.” You raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. “Talk? About what?”
“About... us, I guess,” Ollie said, shifting slightly as though trying to find the right words.
“You’ve been avoiding me lately despite us being partners, and I get it. We’re not exactly the best of friends, but... well, I’m starting to think there’s something here.”
Your breath caught in your throat. “Something here? What are you talking about?”
Ollie pushed off the wall and took a step closer. You felt your pulse quicken, but you weren’t sure if it was from irritation or something else entirely.
“I don’t know, Y/N,” he continued, the words spilling out more earnestly now.
“For the longest time, I thought you were just some Slytherin who hated everything I stood for—Quidditch, Gryffindor pride, all of it. But recently, I’ve started to see... I’ve started to see you differently.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. Your mind raced. See you differently? What did that mean?
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” Ollie continued, his gaze not leaving yours.
“How we’ve spent all this time bickering, but when it comes down to it, you’re actually—” he paused, searching for the words “—you’re actually kind of incredible. You’re clever, driven, and... I don’t know, I can’t stop thinking about how you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”
You could feel your heart beating in your throat, but you weren’t ready to admit anything.
Not yet. Not with Ollie Bearman, of all people.
“You’re just saying that because you think I’ll help you pass the next exam, right?” you tried, your voice betraying more uncertainty than you wanted.
But Ollie shook his head, his expression serious now, and you could see the honesty in his eyes.
“No, that’s not it. This is... this is me. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I realized that I like being around you. I’m not saying it’s easy, but I think I’ve started to care about you in a way I didn’t expect.”
Your chest tightened. “Ollie...”
“I don’t know what this is, Y/N,” Ollie said, running a hand through his hair. “I just... I don’t want to pretend it’s not there anymore. I’m tired of pretending you’re just some annoying Slytherin I have to tolerate.”
You blinked, caught in the weight of his words. It felt like your world had shifted under your feet.
You had spent so much time hating him, convincing yourself that nothing could ever come of your rivalry. But now, standing in front of him, you realized how much of that was self-preservation.
How much of it was denial.
“Are you... saying what I think you’re saying?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Ollie stepped closer, his voice low. “I don’t know what you think I’m saying, but I think I’m saying that I want to find out what could happen between us. If you’re willing to take the chance.”
The hallway felt suddenly smaller, the walls closing in on you as your thoughts collided with each other.
You wanted to resist. You wanted to shout at him and remind him that nothing could ever happen between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. That your lives had always been dictated by competition, by rivalry.
But as you looked into Ollie’s eyes, the one thing that was undeniable was how real the emotion was in his gaze. How much he meant it.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence.
“I am,” he said quietly, his eyes not leaving yours.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The tension hung heavy between you, neither of you daring to break the silence, yet somehow it felt like everything was finally coming into focus.
You took a deep breath, swallowing the uncertainty. Maybe it was time to let go of all the reasons you had built up to keep him at arm’s length. Maybe there was something worth exploring here after all.
“Alright,” you said finally, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart. “I’m willing to see where this goes. But you have to understand something, Ollie. I’m not going to make this easy for you.”
Ollie grinned, his playful side creeping back into his expression. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”
You took another breath, feeling the weight of the decision settle on your shoulders. But for the first time in weeks, you felt a strange sense of anticipation, a spark of something that had been there all along but was only now beginning to surface.
Something had shifted since Ollie’s confession, and while nothing had officially been said about your “status,” there was a new air of familiarity between you.
He no longer teased you with the same sharp edges, and his glances felt warmer, less challenging.
You couldn’t deny it: there was something comforting about the way he had started treating you—not like an opponent, but like someone he genuinely cared about.
Still, the adjustment wasn’t easy for you.
Slytherins weren’t exactly known for public displays of affection, and Gryffindors like Ollie seemed to have no problem making their intentions known to the entire school.
Which was why, when Ollie showed up outside your Potions class one afternoon, leaning casually against the wall in his Quidditch robes, you nearly froze in your tracks.
“What are you doing here?” You hissed, keeping your voice low as your classmates filtered out of the classroom, all of them throwing curious looks your way.
Isla, walking beside you, stifled a laugh behind her hand.
“Waiting for you, obviously,” Ollie said with that signature grin of his. “I thought we could walk to lunch together.”
You glanced around nervously, painfully aware of how many eyes were on you.
“Ollie, this is a Slytherin corridor. You’re not exactly... welcome, here.”
“Good thing I’m not afraid of Slytherins,” he replied breezily. “Come on, Y/N, it’s just lunch.”
Isla shot you a knowing look. “Oh, I don’t mind. This is fascinating. Please, by all means, walk her to lunch, Gryffindor hero.”
You shot her a glare before turning back to Ollie. “Fine. But don’t expect this to become a habit.”
Ollie’s grin widened. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
As the two of you walked side by side through the bustling hallways, the whispers were impossible to ignore.
It wasn’t every day that the Gryffindor Quidditch captain was seen escorting the top Slytherin student through the castle.
You could feel your face heat up with every passing glance.
By the time you reached the Great Hall, you were ready to sprint to your table just to escape the scrutiny. But Ollie, completely unbothered, placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.
“Relax, Y/N,” he said softly. “They’ll get over it.”
“You don’t get it,” you muttered, your voice barely audible. “People are going to talk. They’ll think I’ve gone soft. I’m not used to... this.”
Ollie stopped walking, turning to face you. His hazel eyes were calm, steady.
“Hey,” he said, his tone gentle. “I know this is new. I know it’s not easy for you. But you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not to your friends, not to your house, not to me. Just... be yourself. That’s all I want.”
You hesitated, his words sinking in. For someone so brash and confident, he had a way of making you feel seen in a way you hadn’t expected. Slowly, you nodded.
“Alright. But if anyone asks, I’m still your rival.”
Ollie chuckled. “Deal.”
At that moment, a familiar voice interrupted. “What’s this?”
You turned to see Arvid Lindblad and Kimi Antonelli approaching, both wearing amused expressions.
Arvid, a Hufflepuff with a mischievous streak, crossed his arms. “Bearman, are you seriously ditching us for your Slytherin rival?”
Kimi, a Ravenclaw whose sharp mind matched his dry sense of humor, raised an eyebrow. “This is... unexpected.”
Ollie grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulders with zero hesitation. “What can I say? She’s growing on me.”
You immediately ducked out from under his arm, your face burning. “Don’t push it, Bearman.”
Arvid burst out laughing. “Oh, this is great. I can’t wait to tell the rest of the team.”
“Don’t you dare,” Ollie warned, though he was still smiling.
From the Slytherin table, your friends, Isla and Hayley watched the scene unfold, their faces split into identical grins.
“You owe me five Galleons,” Hayley said smugly.
Isla groaned, fishing the coins out of her pocket. “Fine, but I still say she’s going to hex him eventually.”
By the time you and Ollie reached the Gryffindor table, you were convinced that everyone in the castle had seen you together. But as Ollie sat down beside you, his easy confidence never faltering, you realized something: you didn’t mind as much as you thought you would.
Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.
After a few months of seeing Ollie, the day of the highly anticipated Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match arrived, and the castle buzzed with excitement.
The rivalry between the houses was infamous, and the stands were packed with students decked out in their respective house colors.
Green and silver banners clashed with scarlet and gold as chants echoed through the stadium.
You sat in the Slytherin stands, arms crossed, trying to ignore the pang of nerves bubbling in your chest.
Isla nudged you, smirking. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re rooting for Gryffindor today.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snapped, though your eyes couldn’t help but wander to the field where Ollie was leading his team through warm-ups. His movements were precise, commanding, and frustratingly confident.
Focus, you told yourself. He’s your rival, and Gryffindor needs to lose.
As Madam Hooch blew the whistle, the match began in a frenzy of motion.
The Gryffindor Chasers darted through the air, their passes quick and seamless, but Slytherin’s Keeper was on form, blocking their shots with ease.
You found yourself gripping the edge of your seat, every play pulling you further into the match.
It wasn’t until halfway through the game that the tension really exploded.
Ollie, playing as Gryffindor’s Seeker, was locked in a tight race with the Slytherin Seeker, each of them diving after the Snitch.
The crowd roared as the two streaked through the sky, narrowly avoiding collisions with the other players.
“Come on, Ollie!” Arvid’s voice carried from the Hufflepuff stands, and you winced despite yourself. Don’t mess this up, you thought.
Then it happened. A Slytherin Beater sent a Bludger hurtling toward Ollie at a dangerous speed.
You watched in horror as he barely managed to dodge, his broom wobbling for a moment before he righted himself. But the distraction was enough—the Slytherin Seeker had gained the upper hand.
“No!” you gasped, earning a smirk from Isla.
“Interesting reaction for someone who’s supposed to be cheering for Slytherin,” she teased.
You scowled, but before you could reply, the Snitch was spotted again. This time, Ollie was faster.
He leaned forward on his broom, the determination on his face clear even from your spot in the stands.
The Slytherin Seeker was close behind, but Ollie’s outstretched hand closed around the Snitch just seconds before they collided.
The stadium erupted in cheers and groans.
Gryffindor had won.
As the teams landed, the Gryffindor players rushed to Ollie, lifting him onto their shoulders in celebration.
You stayed seated, watching as he grinned and held the Snitch aloft. The sight filled you with equal parts annoyance and something you couldn’t quite name.
When the crowd began to disperse, you made your way back toward the castle, hoping to avoid the inevitable gloating. But before you could slip away, a familiar voice called out behind you.
“Y/N! Wait up!”
You turned to see Ollie jogging toward you, still in his Quidditch robes and looking infuriatingly triumphant.
“What do you want, Bearman?” You asked, crossing your arms.
“To talk,” he said, falling into step beside you. “You don’t look too happy for someone who just witnessed an incredible game.”
“Why would I be happy? My house lost,” you pointed out, though your tone lacked its usual bite.
Ollie smirked. “Come on, I saw you watching me. You can admit it—I was pretty impressive out there.”
“You were reckless,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “That Bludger nearly took you out.”
He shrugged. “Part of the game. Besides, I knew you’d be worried about me.”
“I wasn’t worried about you,” you lied, your cheeks heating up.
Ollie stopped walking, turning to face you with that annoyingly confident smile. “You’re a terrible liar, Y/N.”
You opened your mouth to retort, but his expression softened, and he stepped closer.
“Look, I know this whole... thing between us is new. And I know you’re still figuring it out. But for what it’s worth, having you there today? It meant something. Even if you were secretly hoping I’d lose.”
You hesitated, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.
“I wasn’t hoping you’d lose,” you admitted quietly. “I just... didn’t want to see you get hurt.”
A flicker of surprise crossed his face before it melted into a warm smile. “See? You do care.”
“Don’t push it, Bearman,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.
Ollie grinned, falling back into step beside you. “Alright, I won’t. For now.”
As the two of you walked toward the castle, the tension of the match faded into the background, replaced by something softer, something that felt almost... natural. And though you wouldn’t admit it out loud, you were starting to think that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind having Ollie Bearman by your side.
Epilogue:
The days when you and Ollie were sworn rivals felt like a lifetime ago, though the memory of your endless bickering still brought a smirk to your face.
Somehow, against all odds, you’d gone from exchanging biting remarks in the hallways to sharing late-night conversations by the fire.
It wasn’t a change you’d ever expected—or even wanted—but it was one you couldn’t imagine undoing.
Your dynamic hadn’t exactly mellowed.
You were still Y/N Browning, Slytherin’s top student, sharp-tongued and fiercely independent. And Ollie was still Ollie Bearman, Gryffindor’s golden boy with that infuriatingly confident grin.
The difference now was that the teasing carried a warmth it never had before, and the rivalry had softened into something that only strengthened your bond.
Take today, for example.
The castle was buzzing with activity as students bustled through the corridors, preparing for their final exams.
You were perched at a table in the library, surrounded by stacks of books and meticulously written notes.
The air smelled faintly of parchment and ink, a comforting sort of chaos that you thrived in.
“Still studying?” Ollie’s voice broke through the quiet, his tone laced with mock exasperation.
You glanced up to see him leaning against a nearby bookshelf, his Gryffindor scarf askew and his hair as messy as ever.
“What does it look like, Bearman?” you quipped, returning your attention to your notes. “Not all of us can wing it and still pass.”
“Hey, I don’t wing it,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from you. “I’m just naturally brilliant.”
You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re naturally lucky, which is not the same thing.”
“And you’re naturally stubborn,” he countered, reaching across the table to pluck one of your notes from the pile. “Come on, Y/N. Take a break. You’ve been at this for hours.”
“I can’t afford to take a break,” you said firmly, snatching the note back. “Unlike you, I have standards to maintain.”
Ollie chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I know. That’s one of the things I like about you. But you’re allowed to breathe, you know. Even Slytherin’s top student can take fifteen minutes to eat a chocolate frog.”
You sighed, finally setting your quill down and meeting his gaze.
His hazel eyes were steady, the teasing light in them replaced with something softer. You hated how easily he could do that—disarm you with a look.
“Fine,” you relented. “Fifteen minutes. But if my grades suffer, I’m blaming you.”
“I’ll take the risk,” he said with a grin, pulling a small package from his bag and sliding it across the table. It was a chocolate frog, just as he’d promised.
You took it reluctantly, your lips twitching upward despite yourself. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“I’ve been told,” he said, resting his chin in his hand as he watched you open the wrapper.
Moments like these had become your new normal. He knew when to push and when to step back, and you were learning to let your guard down—at least for him.
You were still fiercely independent, still determined to prove yourself to the world. But with Ollie, you didn’t feel the need to constantly defend your place.
He saw you, respected you, and never tried to change you.
It wasn’t always easy. There were still moments when you snapped at him or bristled at his easygoing nature, and there were times when his relentless optimism made you want to scream. But somehow, those differences only made your connection stronger.
He challenged you in a way no one else could, and you liked to think you kept him grounded.
Your friends had grown used to the sight of you two together, though the teasing hadn’t stopped.
Isla called him your “Gryffindor puppy,” and Arvid had taken to mimicking Ollie’s voice whenever you defended him.
Even Kimi, with his usual deadpan humor, had joked about how the universe might implode from the sheer improbability of your relationship.
But you didn’t mind. Because at the end of the day, when the library emptied and the castle grew quiet, it was Ollie who walked you back to the Slytherin common room.
It was Ollie who stayed up with you during late-night study sessions, bringing snacks and pretending to care about your advanced Arithmancy notes.
It was Ollie who, somehow, had become the one person you didn’t mind letting in. And as you sat across from him now, watching him steal one of your notes and grin when you scolded him, you realized something important.
You hadn’t changed for Ollie Bearman. You were still yourself—strong, driven, and fiercely Slytherin.
But you had softened for him, in a way that felt like growing rather than shrinking. And for once, you didn’t mind letting someone see the cracks in your armor.
“Alright, Bearman,” you said, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “You win. I’ll take a break.”
Ollie’s grin widened. “Finally. I thought I’d have to resort to drastic measures.”
“Don’t get used to it,” you warned, though your voice was lighter now.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his gaze warm.
And just like that, the world felt a little brighter.
