summary: a chatty girl starts showing up at your family flower shop every single day and, for some reason, decides you'd be the perfect match for her older brother.
warnings: fluff, love at first sight, maggie playing cupid, gorgeous kimi (obviously), brief mention of annoying men 🙄
word count: 3.2k | pt.2 ᰔ arvid version
a/n: i loved every single second of writing this 🤭 i really hope you all enjoy it too.
ଓ english is not my first language, be kind.
All you ever wanted was to rest your head on the counter and have a three-hour nap.
Your family’s flower shop is on a completely deserted street corner. Seriously, nobody ever passes by there. And when the bell above the glass door finally rings, signalling some sign of life, ninety per cent of the time the scene is the same: a man, his eyes fixed on his mobile screen, clearing his throat before asking for ‘anything red that looks expensive’. They never buy them out of affection. They buy out of guilt, after forgetting their wedding anniversary, or to avoid spending the night on the sofa. And, to make your mood even worse, they almost always complain about the price of the roses or spend the five minutes whilst you’re cutting the stems venting about how ‘women are far too complicated’.
You simply smile, tap the card machine, hand over the bouquet, and silently hope those women break up with their partners.
Then she appeared.
At first, she was just a passing figure after school hours. A little girl, no older than ten or eleven, clutching the straps of her heavy rucksack with both hands, slowing her pace until she came to a complete stop in front of the shop window. She'd stand there with her nose almost pressed against the glass, utterly mesmerised by the yellow tulips.
On the third day, she finally gathered the courage to push the door open. "Do they need lots of water?" Was the very first thing she asked, without even saying hello, pointing straight at the yellow tulips.
You couldn't help but smile. Patiently, you explained how much water they needed, how to keep the soil moist, and how much sunlight they liked.
The next day, she came back with more questions. The day after that, you decided to cut a particularly vibrant pink dahlia and held it out to her.
"A little gift for my most loyal customer of the week," you said.
The girl's eyes lit up so brightly that you thought she might actually jump with excitement.
From that moment on, your own little desert found its soundtrack.
Her name was Maggie.
Maggie was a force of nature — chatty, endlessly curious, and bursting with energy that never seemed to run out. Yet she was remarkably polite, with a level of manners you rarely saw in children her age these days. She looked you straight in the eye when she spoke, asked for the scientific name of every plant in the shop, and wanted to know why rose thorns grew the way they did.
Quickly, Maggie’s visits became the highlight of your day. Her parents, realising that their daughter had found a safe and wholesome refuge amongst the flowers and conversation, gave her permission to spend that sacred hour there after school. The arrangement worked perfectly: she would walk in, fill the shop with stories about her teachers, her lunch and her history essays, and at half past five sharp, a car would turn up to pick her up.
It wasn’t just any car. It was always a luxury sports model, a car far too posh, far too expensive for your circumstances — or for anyone you knew. The driver, the girl’s father, would simply give a gentle double-beep from the kerb; Maggie would give you a tight hug and rush to get into the back seat.
On a mild Tuesday afternoon, Maggie's stream of words was moving even faster than usual. She was perched on the tall stool beside the till, swinging her legs as she watched you arrange a bouquet of lilies.
"…and then mum said I couldn't have chocolate before dinner, but my brother secretly gave me a piece because he's the best, even though he can be a bit grumpy when he has to wake up early," Maggie rattled on, only pausing to take a breath. She rested her chin in her hands, staring at you with an almost comically serious expression as she studied your face.
You let out a quiet laugh, wiping the sap from your hands with a cloth.
"Thank you, Maggie. That's very kind of you."
"No, I'm serious. You look like a model," she insisted, with the peculiar certainty only she could have. Then, completely out of nowhere and as naturally as if she were asking about the weather, she leaned forwards.
"Do you want to date my big brother?"
You nearly dropped the bunch of lilies onto the floor. Your eyes widened, and you blinked a few times, trying to process what she'd just asked.
"What? No…?"
"Why not?" Maggie pressed, pouting in genuine confusion at your immediate rejection. "He'd think you were beautiful! And he's not dating anyone right now, so there's nothing stopping you from dating him. He's really nice, I promise."
You smiled awkwardly, shaking your head at your little friend's boldness.
"Maggie, sweetheart, I don't even know your brother. And I don't think people just start dating because someone's little sister decides to play cupid."
"But he's famous!" She argued, as though that were the final piece of evidence that settled the matter. "Everyone knows who he is. If you look him up online, there are loads of pictures of him wearing those weird racing clothes and holding trophies."
You simply shrugged, returning to tie a satin ribbon around the stems of the lilies. You'd heard her chatter before about her brother being a racing driver and famous, but you'd never paid much attention. You didn't watch motorsport, you didn't follow celebrity news, and since you didn't have social media, the name Kimi meant absolutely nothing to you.
Well…
Other than the fact that he was the older brother of this adorable girl.
"Famous or not, I don't really care about those things, Maggie," you said gently, a smile tugging at your lips. "Your brother probably has far too busy a life to be pushed towards the florist by his very chatty sister."
Maggie didn't look remotely convinced.
She hopped off the stool, adjusted her rucksack as the familiar, elegant horn of a luxury car echoed from outside the shop window. She walked to the door, but before pushing it open, she turned back to you with a mischievous, determined grin.
"Fine. Have it your way," Maggie sang, holding the handle. "But I'm going to introduce him to you anyway. One day I'll bring him here, and you'll see I was right! Bye!"
♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡
Two weeks had passed, and you had almost forgotten the solemn promise Maggie had made at the shop door. After all, the days remained grey, the counter continued to accumulate dry leaves, and the customers were still the same men buying roses out of sheer guilt and complaining about the price.
Until that Thursday.
The clock struck exactly five o’clock in the afternoon when the bell above the door not only rang, but seemed to herald an event. Maggie came in first, practically skipping, her brown hair swinging and a grin from ear to ear that gave away the fact she was up to something.
"I told you I’d bring him!" She exclaimed, her childish voice echoing through the silent room.
Just behind her, the glass door was pushed open by a large hand with long fingers. A boy stepped into the flower shop, and when he looked in your direction, it felt as though the air had been sucked out of your lungs for a whole second.
You tried to remain professional, but the shock was inevitable. He really was handsome. His honey-coloured eyes mesmerised you. He was dressed simply, in a dark jacket and a plain t-shirt, but his bearing and the way he filled the room made it seem as though he belonged somewhere completely different from that plywood counter.
What you didn’t realise, however, was that the shock on the other side was exactly the same.
Kimi stopped a few steps away, his eyes fixed on you. For weeks, he'd had to listen to Maggie chatter nonstop over breakfast about "the perfect flower girl", who gave her dahlias as gifts and seemed to know everything about the world. He had expected to find a kind elderly woman or, at most, an ordinary girl. But seeing you standing there, surrounded by green leaves, with a few loose strands of hair falling out of place and a genuinely surprised expression, completely disarmed the driver. You were breathtakingly beautiful, with a natural, fresh beauty that felt completely removed from the world of appearances and plastic he was used to living in.
For a moment, silence filled the flower shop, broken only by Maggie's attentive, eager gaze as she looked back and forth between you and her brother, waiting for the magic to happen.
"Hi." Kimi broke the silence. "I'm Kimi, this little brat's older brother."
You let out a genuine laugh, immediately feeling your cheeks grow warm. To your own despair, you felt your heart jolt inside your chest, beating much faster than normal. You felt silly, like a teenage girl having a meltdown over a handsome guy, but his presence was far too magnetic to ignore.
"Nice to meet you, Kimi." You replied, stepping out from behind the counter to stand closer to them. "I'm ____. Your sister is adorable."
"I suppose she is." Kimi gave a small, relaxed smile.
The conversation flowed with a surprising ease for both of you. There was none of the irritating rush of the men in suits who usually came into the shop, nor any need to impress one another. While you talked about how Maggie had learnt to take care of tulips and how she had become the shop's most important customer, Kimi simply watched.
He was completely enchanted. Not only by your voice or your beauty, but by the way you moved through the space, with a gentleness and calmness that seemed to numb the exhaustion of his day. But what truly meant the most to Kimi — what genuinely warmed something inside his chest — was the way you treated Maggie. You looked at the little girl with genuine affection, answered all of her ridiculous questions without the slightest hint of condescension, and treated her like a real friend. In his world, where everyone either wanted a piece of his fame or only came close because they wanted something from him, seeing someone treat his little sister with such purity and devotion felt almost like a miracle.
Maggie, meanwhile, was on the verge of bursting with excitement. She folded her arms, narrowed her eyes at the two of you with a knowing smile, analysing every exchanged glance and every shy laugh. In her mind, Cupid's plan was working perfectly. You were going to fall in love — she was absolutely certain of it.
"Well," Kimi finally said, clearing his throat softly, although he clearly didn't want to end the conversation. He looked around at the buckets of flowers surrounding you. "Since we're here, I suppose I should buy something. I don't want to leave Maggie's favourite flower shop empty-handed."
"What were you thinking of getting?" You asked, walking over to the displays of fresh flowers.
"I'd like a really beautiful arrangement for my mum." He said, pointing towards a few classic flowers that matched the style he had in mind. "And…" He looked down, meeting his little sister's bright eyes. "…what would you recommend for my tiny co-driver?"
Maggie let out an excited squeal, wrapping her arms around Kimi's waist. You laughed at the sight, feeling that pleasant flutter in your stomach all over again.
"For Maggie, today it'll be yellow tulips… They suit her." You said, carefully picking the prettiest flowers from the bucket and trimming the stems to the perfect length.
You arranged the bouquets with practised skill, feeling Kimi's eyes burn into your hands as you tied the ribbon around them. When you handed over both bouquets — the elegant one for his mother and the tulips for the little girl. Kimi's fingers brushed against yours as he passed over his bank card. It was only a brief touch, but it sent a shiver down your spine.
Kimi didn't complain about the price. He paid with a grateful nod, slipped his wallet away, and looked straight into your eyes.
"Thank you for the flowers. And… for looking after her every day." He said, with a sincerity that made your heart skip another beat.
"You don't have to thank me. It's the best part of my day." You replied, and you weren't lying.
Kimi gave you another one of those crooked smiles, gently patted Maggie on the shoulder to signal it was time to leave, and walked towards the door. Maggie followed straight behind him, but before stepping outside, she turned back, pointed at her brother, then at you, before making an extremely obvious heart shape with her hands and winking. Kimi, slightly embarrassed, simply tugged her away by the back of her rucksack.
The door closed, and the sound of the luxury car's engine echoed outside as they drove away. You remained standing behind the counter for several long minutes, still holding the tea towel, wearing a hopelessly silly smile that simply refused to disappear.
The following days took on a completely different colour from the usual grey that surrounded your little corner of the street. Kimi kept showing up. Almost always at the same time, parking his luxury car outside. But unlike his father, he didn't simply honk the horn. He got out, pushed open the glass door, making the bell chime overhead, and stepped inside to tell his sister it was time to go home.
Later on, somewhere between conversations with the little girl, you eventually discovered why he had been around so often: formula one was on a short break in the racing calendar. That was why he was home, enjoying some time with his family before travelling the world again to race fast cars.
And it was on one of those mild afternoons that your routine changed completely.
"Please, please, pleeease!" Maggie begged, leaning over the counter with both hands clasped together, her wide brown eyes wearing the most perfectly calculated pleading expression an eleven-year-old could possibly manage. "It's just a trip to the shopping centre! Kimi will drive, we'll have some gelato, and you can help me choose my new trainers… Please!"
You glanced at the clock on the wall, then out at the empty street. The flower shop was completely dead, just as it usually was. You hesitated, looking over at Kimi, who was leaning against the tiled wall beside the ferns with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He wasn't saying anything to pressure you, but there was an amused sparkle in those absurdly expressive eyes as he watched his little sister's performance.
"Maggie, I still need to close the shop, tidy the buckets…" you began, stumbling over your words as you desperately clung to your safe little bubble.
"I'll help carry the boxes if you promise you'll come." Kimi interrupted, his gentle voice carrying an almost teasing challenge, accompanied by a crooked smile.
Looking at Maggie's impossibly adorable face, your resistance crumbled completely. You let out a defeated sigh, laughing at your own lack of resolve.
"Alright. You win. I'll close early today."
Maggie's victorious squeal almost made the gerbera petals tremble.
The outing turned out to be surprisingly light-hearted, with nothing awkward or uncomfortable about it. At the shopping centre, you found yourself immersed in Maggie's pre-teen world. You spent well over an hour wandering from rack to rack through department stores, helping her put together outfits that were stylish but still appropriate for her age, and the three of you spent ages debating which pair of trainers was the perfect one — eventually settling on a beautiful pair that was colourful without being over the top, making Maggie practically strut through the shopping centre afterwards. Kimi walked just behind the two of you, carrying all the shopping bags without a single complaint, simply watching the dynamic between you with that attentive, genuinely warm look that kept making your stomach flutter.
After shopping, you all headed to a gelateria. Sitting by the window, sharing different flavours of gelato, conversation flowed effortlessly. Kimi laughed at Maggie's sarcastic comments about school, and every now and then he'd tease her just enough to make her stick her tongue out at him. More than once, you caught yourself watching his profile beneath the shopping centre lights, the way he seemed so relaxed away from the spotlight, and you still couldn't believe just how handsome he was.
The highlight of the day, however, came as you were walking towards the car park. Maggie stopped abruptly in front of a jewellery shop window, pointing excitedly through the glass.
"Look at that one!" She exclaimed, nearly pressing her nose against the display. It was a delicate necklace with a tiny butterfly pendant, its wings shimmering softly in a colour that shifted depending on how the light caught them. Maggie turned to you, completely enchanted. "It matches your eyes perfectly. Doesn't it, Kimi?"
Kimi stepped closer, narrowing his eyes to study the necklace in the display before shifting his gaze directly to your face. His stare lingered long enough to make your cheeks burn.
"It does." He agreed, his voice coming out a little quieter, never taking his eyes off yours. "We'll take it."
"No, honestly, you don't have to…" you began, instinctively taking a step backwards as your shyness took over.
But Kimi was already pushing open the jewellery shop door. It took a long time before you finally agreed. You argued that it was too expensive, that it was unnecessary, that you couldn't possibly accept such a gift, but the combined persistence of the two siblings proved impossible to resist. Maggie used every pout and promise of good behaviour she had, while Kimi simply handed his credit card to the shop assistant with infuriating calmness, saying only, "She's taking it." In the end, you gave in, holding the little gift bag with trembling hands and your heart beating in your throat.
Later that night, the silence of your bedroom felt like the perfect setting to process everything that had happened. You placed the bag on top of your chest of drawers, took a long shower, and changed into your pyjamas.
Before going to bed, your eyes drifted towards the little black jewellery box, now resting outside the bag. Carefully, you unclasped it and lifted the butterfly necklace out. Standing in front of your wardrobe mirror, you gathered your hair with one hand and, with some difficulty thanks to your returning nerves, fastened the clasp behind your neck.
The pendant settled just below your collarbone.
You let your hair fall back into place and simply stood there in silence, looking at your reflection beneath the soft glow of your bedside lamp. Your fingertips brushed the cool metal of the butterfly. Maggie had been right, and so had Kimi. The subtle shimmer of the butterfly's wings truly brought out the colour of your eyes in a way you'd never noticed before.
You smiled foolishly at your own reflection, your mind replaying the image of those honey-coloured eyes looking at you…
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after five races in a row, kimi antonelli feels like he’s on top of the world. at the end of the day, though, he might just be on top of you.
genre: short-short-shooort fic. romance.
warnings: suggestive. kimi antonelli is so hot omg. waist grab and… yeah.
word count: 646.
a/n: I KNOW I KNOW, KIMI AGAIN. i'm not normal about him, sorry. guys, to be totally honest, this doesn’t even count as a fic. i did to write something for kimi’s fifth victory because, seriously… it’s just delicious.
Down below the podium, you watch Kimi Antonelli take his fifth consecutive victory.
You're clapping, but honestly, the motion is completely absent-minded, because your attention is fixed on the boy who, just hours earlier, had tilted your chin up in the middle of a heated make-out session in the drivers' room and murmured against your lips, "I'm getting that win for you today.” Then he'd left you stranded on the couch, breathless and flushed, desperately in need of the coldest shower of your life.
Kimi was never someone who broke promises to you. Never.
At that moment, he's covered in a mix of sweat and champagne. His hands, your favorite hands, are around the base of the trophy while he looks completely in disbelief that it belongs to him. Yeah, pretty boy, you did it again. And amid all the chaos, his gaze finds yours.
You stop clapping.
He shoots you a wink before dragging his tongue across his lower lip... that damned tongue he seems utterly incapable of keeping inside his mouth.
The crowd around you keeps roaring, and the noise only swells when he raises the trophy high above his head. Deafening — and every second of it is for him.
Your Kimi Antonelli.
From the huge grin stretching from ear to ear across his face, you can tell he loves it. Loves the attention. Loves the feeling. Loves the power that comes with a crowd of people screaming his name because, yeah, he is just that good.
Slowly, people begin to disperse as the podium ceremony comes to an end. The cameras are already turning elsewhere around the paddock, and you make your way toward the podium steps, where Kimi is the last one to climb down after everyone else has left. You don't even have to try to get him to see you. In less than a second, Kimi is right in front of you, so close it should be a crime.
"There you are." He greets you, one hand finding your waist before you can even respond.
“You smell like cheap cocktail” you complain, wrinkling your nose.
He just laughs and slides his free hand to the other side of your waist, pulling you even closer.
“Is that any way to talk to Kimi Antonelli, Grand Slam winner and victor of five consecutive Grands Prix?”
You roll your eyes and rest your arms on his shoulders, lifting a finger to brush a damp strand of hair away from his cheek.
“All this winning is making you arrogant.”
He lets out a soft laugh, his hands tightening slightly around you.
“Oh, you have no idea just how arrogant I can be.”
“Yeah?” you ask, your eyes fluttering shut.
Kimi brushes his lips against your cheek, leaving a soft kiss there before moving higher, his mouth grazing your skin until it reaches your ear.
“I bet I can make you come five times as easily as I can win five races in a row,” he whispers. Your breath catches instantly. A shiver races down your spine, and your knees nearly give out beneath you. “What do you think?”
“I... I...” you stammer, swallowing hard as your gaze drops to the ground.
His grin only grows.
Another kiss lands on your cheek, quick and affectionate, because someone from the team is already calling for him from the other side of the paddock. He lifts his head, arches an eyebrow, and just like that, he transforms back into the victorious driver everyone expects him to be, jogging toward the engineers waiting to celebrate with him. Not before stealing one last kiss, though.
A quick peck that leaves your head spinning — not because of the contact itself, but because of the promise he'd just made. And because you know by the way your thighs press together, it's going to completely ruin the rest of your day…
pairing . . . kimi antonelli x chaotic!genz!reader
summary . . . You and (sometimes) Kimi have gone a bit viral for being chaotic on each other's posts. So when you finally get invited to the paddock and get interviewed, it turns out to be.... a wrong decision, since the interviewer starts digging for gossip and makes everyone mad with the questions.
request . . . no!!
word count . . . N/A
warnings . . . none! kind of cringe on purpose
faceclaim . . . eliska babickova (couple pics) and girls from pin!
alexavia yaps . . . HAVENT WRITTEN A SMAU IN AGES OMG... first time writing a smau for kimi so i'm very excited!! i don't really know what's classified as being unhinged or gen z so excuse ANYTHING wrong and pls correct me on it </3 SO YEAH I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!!!
yourusername
liked by kimi.antonelli, olliebearman, yourbsf and 761K others
yourusername yeah oliver clearly you're not the leader of your pack aka the alpha so shoo away
olliebearman cringe
yourusername nothing i speak of is cringe
kimi.antonelli arguable
olliebearman LMFAOO YOUR OWN BOYFRIEND SWITCHED UP ON YOU
yourusername fuck up you twink
olliebearman woah there i am NOT a twink
yourusername #bearnelli
kimi.antonelli no
olliebearman what he said
yourusername the world hates to see toxic friends to lovers in denial yaoi
kimi.antonelli what
yourusername nothing baby just ignore 🥰🥰
kimi.antonelli okay....
kimi.antonelli remind me to get you a pr manager
yourusername nah
olliebearman ILL REMIND YOU
username9 so um is y/n a fan of yaoi or...?
username10 DID I JUST SEE KIMIS GIRFRIEND CALLING OLIVER BEARMAN A TWINK??
username11 yes you did 😭😭😭😭
username12 lovely!
username13 okay so like is kimi turning into max wearing mercedes team gear in the summer break??
username14 haters hate to see a y/n post
yourusername real
username14 DID Y/N JS REPLY TO ME??
yourusername no i didn't you're schizo
username15 average y/n response
username16 idek what to comment anymore
username17 BIKINI IS A NEEDDDD
username18 all yall are d1 glazers 😭😭
username19 girlie didn't even post material to glaze and some people still found a way
username18 i saw someone glazing the food and the drink 😭
username19 HELP
username20 their conversations are so funny im sobbing
kimiantonelli
liked by yourusername, olliebearman, georgerussell63 and 3.7M others
kimi.antonelli summer finished so now we're back to zandvoort!
click to view all comments
yourusername it's all over the screen 😋😋
yourusername I sincerely apologise for my previous statement and take back what I have said as it is considered harassment, and as a person I do not condone to harassing people.
username21 I'M CRYING DID KIMI'S PR MANAGER PUT A GUN TO HER HEAD TO WRITE THAT
username22 the change in grammar and typing LMFAOOOOO
username23 my girl got sniped hell nah 😭😭
username24 the ferrari reflection in mercedes is sending me i'm getting february flashbacks
username25 okay so someone on y/n's post commeneted that kimi is becoming max with the team gear in th summer break and this is lowkey stating it bc he's wearing team gear
username26 THEYRE BOTH SO GOOD LOOKNG WOWW
yourusername i will not be stopped
kimi.antonelli y/n?
yourusername yes?
kimi.antonelli how do you like your steak??
yourusername raw.
kimi.antonelli me too!!
yourusername i wasn't talking about steak.
kimi.antonelli me either... 😈😈😈
yourusername HELL YEAHHHH
olliebearman what the FUCK have you turned him into
yourusername my 8'7 alpha male daddy sigma trillionare protective mafia ceo 🥺🥺
olliebearman what
yourusername nothing that joke will be relevant in the future
olliebearman okay...
kimi.antonelli why not 67?
georgerussell63 welcome to skibidi toilet baku my dudes
yourusername i fucking hate 67 do NOT mention that shit around me again and georgerussell63 piss off from ym post
georgerussell63 it's not your post it's actually kimi's
yourusername no wonder max hates you
georgerussell63 wow okay i guess
kimi.antonelli i'm sorry i won't mention 67 again
yourusername okay good
kimi.antonelli also y/n my pr manager told me to tell you to not bully drivers or bring rivaliries
yourusername smh they said i have free speech. now where is that free speech? up my ass?
olliebearman stop please i feel harassed
yourusername skill issue
olliebearman YOU LITERALLY SAID YOU DONT CONDONE TO HARASSMENT I HATE YOU
kimi.antonelli it's okay mia bella i love you
yourusername AWW kimi i love you too
olliebearman alright i guess
username27 is y/n from the future or something
username28 the comment section is cracking me up
username29 we lost innocent kimi y/n has corrupted him
username30 it's funny tho can't deny that
username31 frrr
username32 WAITT DO WE GET A Y/N PADDOCK APPEARANCE??!??!
username33 I HOPE SO
username34 amsterdam is so pretty i love the pic kimi took
username35 y/n driving omg this is a once in a lifetime event
username36 kimis curls>>>>
olliebearman don't let her drive
kimi.antonelli but she asked nicely
olliebearman i don't care
kimi.antonelli do NOT insult my girlfriend like this
olliebearman I DIDNT EVEN INSULT HER???
yourusername TOO BAD and mwah ily kimi
kimi.antonelli if you blew me a kiss i'd inhale it like a certain drug i'm not allowed to mention
yourusername blushed giggled and kicked my feet
olliebearman you disgust me
yourusername i'm telling alicia
olliebearman no wait pls don't
yourusername pussy
olliebearman bitch
kimi.antonelli y/n is NOT a bitch
yourusername simp
kimi.antonelli BUT I WAS DEFENDING YOU??
yourusername NOT YOUU I MEANT OLIVER IM SORRY KIMI ILY
kimi.antonelli oh okay i love you too 😊😊😊
olliebearman okay we're just going to condone me getting insulted alright i see how it is
username37 #justiceforollie
username38 i need their kind of love
username39 hear me out what if they get dutch citizenships
username40 NETHERLANDS RAHHHHHHHHH
yourusername
liked by kimi.antonelli, olliebearman, carmenmundt and 801K others
yourusername zandvooooooort!! and my interview in the paddock comes out in 2 hourss
click to view all comments
username41 wdym interview....?
username42 SECOND PIC?? HELLO???
username43 the yearly orange army pic goes hard
username44 dreamm life wtff
kimi.antonelli why'd you upload the picture where i look mad
yourusername because i look good in it
kimi.antonelli you look good in any picture
yourusername come to me now.
kimi.antonelli yes maam
olliebearman we didn't need to know that
yourusername know what
olliebearman that you were gonna get freaky
kimi.antonelli why would you assume such horrid things
olliebearman WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO ASSUME???
yourusername just don't assume
kimi.antonelli yeah exactly
username45 poor ollie getting tortured by them
username46 relationship goals
username47 may this love always find me
username48 anyone notice less comments than usual??
username49 WE WANT THE PADDOCK FIT PICS TO MAKE IT INTO THE POST NOT ONLY STORY HIGHLIGHTS
kimi.antonelli tough race but you made it better <3
yourusername brb i'm gonna cry i gues
kimi.antonelli NOO DON'T CRY YOU'RE TOO PRETTY TO CRY
yourusername keep acting like that it's gonna end up bad for you
olliebearman can you STOP
kimi.antonelli you're just jealous because this isn't you
olliebearman you deserve the ten second penalty i hope charles takes you out next race
yourusername charles won't take him out because he'll be disqualified for taking YOU out
olliebearman i give up at this point
kimi.antonelli don't bother
yourusername i wish i mentioned you in my interview
kimi.antonelli speaking of the interview do i need to get my pr manager to take it down before it makes it to the public
yourusername not yet let it marinate for a few hours
yourusername it's not even that bad honestly
olliebearman me when i lie
yourusername can you PISS OFF it's like you're obsessed with us
kimi.antonelli yeah everytime you say you 'give up' or will leave and then 2 seconds later you reply to us again
yourusername stalker ahh
olliebearman ...
yourusername better be speechless
kimi.antonelli what she said
username50 at this point i don't even know what to expect
INTERVIEW WITH Y/N L/N, PARTNER OF ANDREA KIMI ANTONELLI
INTERVIEWER: So, Y/n! Is this your first time in the paddock?
Y/N: No actually, I think it might be my fourth or fifth. Can't remember
INTERVIEWER: I see, what you're saying is that you're a frequent visitor, right?
Y/N: Yeah, that's what I mean. Perks of being a WAG, you know? Or maybe you don't, I have no idea.
INTERVIEWER: Uh, maybe I don't know personally as a WAG but I do know what being on the paddock feels like.
Y/N: I'd guess so!
INTERVIEWER: Anyway, have you ever watched F1? Or did you start watching only after meeting Kimi?
Y/N: Oh, uh, well my family's really into F1. My dad's been a Tifosi his entire life, so have my uncles actually. My mum isn't a big fan but she knows drivers. Obviously she knows Kimi but she ha-
INTERVIEWER: Big F1 fan family then? How does it feel dating a driver? Do you like the fame? Or did you date Kimi for the fame?
Y/N: ...It feels a bit more weirder than normal dating. My life is constantly on watch by random people I don't know, and some people think they can be rude just because. But me and Kimi have been friends before he even went to F2, I also did karting for a while so we met then, and then we decided to start dating. The fame is just an addition, I guess.
INTERVIEWER: Ah, I see. And you're known for being weird online, right? I've seen a few of your comments. They really need to get you a PR manager, right? Haha.
Y/N: Um, people say that, yeah. I don't really think I'm being too weird, it's just online references and all.
INTERVIEWER: So you're not weird? I'm sure a few of your 'fans' would disagree! But, do you do it on purpose for attention?
Y/N: No, not really. I have all the attention I need, I really just do it for the fun of the game. It doesn't hurt a person to be a bit wild sometimes. Ever heard of the phrase, "to be cringe is to be free"? I stand by it.
INTERVIEWER: I haven't heard of it, no. However, it has been brought to my attention that you tend to make unwanted remarks at drivers, in particular Haas driver Oliver Bearman. I believe he's stated he feels "harassed and uncomfortable" once.
Y/N: Oh! I'd never make remarks about anyone, everything I say is purely jokes and if anyone wants me to apologise, I certainly will. And for Ollie, it's all jokes, me and him are close friends. And, I'm sure he didn't mean it seriously, I'd never want to make anyone feel uncomfort-
INTERVIEWER: He sounded quite serious, though.
Y/N: I'll talk to him about it, if he wants me to apologise or stop I certainly will. When I say these jokes I don't mean to hurt anybody.
INTERVIEWER: Well, our time with you is nearly over. Shame right?
Y/N: Yeah, shame...
INTERVIEWER: This is for our last question. Do you and Kimi truly love each other? Or is your relationship one staged by the PR team to bring attention to both of you? Perhaps a mutual benefit agreement, you know with you being labelled as 'weird', 'chaotic' and 'unhinged'. It would bring attention to both of you.
Y/N: I- sorry? Come again, please.
INTERVIEWER: Do you and Kimi truly love each other?
Y/N: Of course we do! Why would we say it to each other then? If we don't.
INTERVIEWER: I don't know, mutual benefit. Fake relationships. You never know what goes on behind closed doors.
Y/N: ....
INTERVIEWER: But we have reached the end of our interview! Thank you to Y/n L/n for agreeing to be interviewed by me and see you next race, in which we will interview Alexandra Saint Mleux after possible engagement rumours have resurfaced!
CLICK TO VIEW VIDEO COMMENTS
username51 this interview pissed me off so bad wtf
username52 not the interviewer cutting y/n off not once but TWICE 💀💀
username53 and they were so rude too... like?? poor y/n omg
username54 alexandra do NOT agree to be interviewed
username55 THE FAKE RELATIOSHIP QUESTION??? and the air quotes when they said fans...
username56 y/n looked so uncomfortable the whole time someone save herr brooo
username57 do NOT let this person interview ever again
username58 when i heard y/n was being interviewed i thought the interviewer would be terrorised by her not the opposite 😭😭
username57 SAME LIKE at first it sounded like it would be that way then the interviewer started cutting y/n off and asking weird ass questions
username58 EXACTLY LIKE TFFF
username59 i'm not a fan of y/n nor like her that much but omg this pissed me off so much like the poor girl who even asks these questions KNOWING it's going to make online forums? they're literally embarrassing themselves!
username60 justice for y/n and all wags bro
kimi.antonelli
liked by yourusername, olliebearman, georgerussell63 and 3.2M others
kimi.antonelli little dump that's mainly my girlfriend because i love her and no one should ever disrespect her
Tagged: yourusername
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username61 KIMI THE SHADEEEE
username62 sunset pic is peak
username63 AWW THEY'RE SO CUTEEE
username64 people DIED (i'm people)
username65 THE LOOK OF LOVE
username66 THE RUSH OF BLOOD
username67 THE SHES WITH ME IS THE GALLIC SHURG
username68 i bet you kimi would've physically fought the interviewer for doubting him and y/n
yourusername you know i love you smmm
kimi.antonelli you tell me sometimes
yourusername don't go nonchalant on me.
kimi.antonelli i'm sorry my beautiful angel i know you love me a lot and i feel the same for you
olliebearman walk him like a dogggg
yourusername wtf
olliebearman so when i say it it's bad but when you say it it''s fine
yourusername no it's just weird
kimi.antonelli yeah ollie
olliebearman no wonder people thought i was harrassed
yourusername HELP
kimi.antonelli are you okay??
yourusername OMG yes i am i was just laughing 😭😭
kimi.antonelli okay good i got scared
yourusername sorry sorry
kimi.antonelli it's okay <33
olliebearman awww
yourusername fuck up
olliebearman here she goes again
username69 nah but they're actually so cutesy i want this kind of love
username70 i'd cry if my bf did that
username71 KIMIY/N FOREVERRRRRRRRRRRRR
username72 mother & father fr
username73 for me it's more parasocial relationship
username74 lowkey living vicariously through them ngl
username75 everyone talking about them but i need the pasta
username76 I'VE BEEN TO THAT FRUIT STALL IN FLORENCE BEFOREE
username77 kimi with the team gear again...
olliebearman okay i have to admit you guys are a little bit cute
kimi.antonelli A LITTLE BIT??
yourusername yeah ollie we're VERY cute
kimi.antonelli especially you
yourusername let out a giggle icl
olliebearman why
yourusername because it's sweet?? and cute?? and nice?? and lovely??
olliebearman sure i guess
kimi.antonelli you don't have to reply to everything you know
olliebearman its MY COMMENT??
kimi.antonelli its MY POST??
yourusername its MY BOYFRIEND??
yourusername sorry i just wanted to join in
olliebearman crazy bc i never thought you'd have FOMO
kimi.antonelli what is FOMO ??
yourusername fear of missing out which i do NOT have
olliebearman sure
yourusername ollie is reflecting
kimi.antonelli real
olliebearman you didn't even know what FOMO was like 4 seconds ago
kimi.antonelli skill issue + i don't care + didn't ask
yourusername HELL YEAH EAT HIM UP KIMI
olliebearman ...
username78 goals
username79 don't know if i want to be with them or be them
username80 realest thing i saw today
yourusername
liked by kimi.antonelli, olliebearman, carmenmundt and 823K others
yourusername thank you for always being there with me, defending me, and just existing. happy 2 year anniversary, mio bello, i love you forever & always
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olliebearman okay i guess you ARE cut afterall 🙄🙄
yourusername cut
olliebearman i meant cute and you KNOW it
kimi.antonelli what if we didn't?
olliebearman then i have no reply
yourusername we really left you speechless ✌✌
georgerussell63 congratulations to you guys from me and carmen!
yourusername thank you george! and tell carmen me and her WILL be going out next grand prix
georgerussell63 okay...
kimi.antonelli thank you george!
georgerussell63 no worries!
kimi.antonelli so i guess you do love me afterall and it's not a fake relationship
yourusername you'd be wrong
kimi.antonelli okay then
yourusername WHY DID I GET AN EMAIL CONFORMING THE DELETION OF MY INSTAGRAM ACCOUNT??
kimi.antonelli i didn't think of that
yourusername HELLO?? WHY DO YOU WANT TO DELETE MY INSTA ACCOUNT??
kimi.antonelli hi!!
yourusername 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬
kimi.antonelli HELP
yourusername WHY'RE YOU SAYING THAT NOW IM SCARED
kimi.antonelli 😂😂😂😂😂
yourusername OMG you know i'm joking right....?
kimi.antonelli yes i do <33
yourusername THEN???
kimi.antonelli idk i wanted to troll
yourusername wow okay
olliebearman i support this decision of bullying y/n
yourusername stalkerrrrr
kimi.antonelli i'm with y/n on this
olliebearman should've stayed quiet
yourusername you should've
kimi.antonelli happy anniversary, mia bella! i love you lots
the world has always known you as the other verstappen. max's teammate, his closest person, his other half. quiet. untouchable. all sharp edges and locked doors.
love was never part of the plan. racing was. racing was supposed to be enough.
then kimi antonelli arrives.
nineteen, wide-eyed, painfully earnest — following max around like a lost puppy, which means he keeps running into you. again. and again. and again.
and somehow, without trying, he becomes the one person that gets you to open up. to feel. you've never let anyone this close. and max notices. but max also notices how kimi looks at his sister like you're the only person in the world.
fc : stephmandich on ig
(a/n) : hello guys!!!!!! sorry i've been missing, i have been busy w/ work and actually planning big things for you all! big announcements coming soon;) anyways about the fic, this is based on the 2025 season and kimi is 19 at the beginning of the season and reader is 20 and has been in f1 since 17 :) (reader has max's old #) (warnings of j*s verstappen being j*s verstappen!) (also this takes place in 2025 season BUT laurent has already replaced christian bc i said so) (also ty to whoever requested lysm)
The lights of London blur past the tinted windows as the car slows near the venue, the city glowing like it knows something important is about to happen. The F1 launch event is always excessive—grand staircases, photographers packed ten deep, flashes like lightning—but tonight it feels heavier. Real. The season begins here.
You step out beside Max, Laurent Mekies already straightening his jacket with an amused smile as the crowd reacts instantly. Cameras swing toward you and Max like magnets.
You loop your arm through Max’s without thinking. It’s instinct—always has been.
The black lace gown clings to you in a way that feels both elegant and dangerous, sheer in places but never careless. Long sleeves, delicate patterning, the fabric moving like smoke when you walk. Your hair is swept back, makeup soft but sharp enough to hold its own under a thousand lights. Max leans in slightly.
“You good?” he murmurs.
You nod, smiling. “Always.”
The carpet is chaos, but familiar chaos. You greet faces you’ve known for years—team principals, drivers, partners. Max does his usual understated nods and half-smiles, letting you take the lead when someone stops you. You’re warm, composed, effortlessly charming. Laurent watches the two of you with quiet pride.
Inside, the room is opulent—low lights, crystal everywhere, the hum of anticipation buzzing under the music. Assigned seating pulls you toward your table. Right next to Mercedes.
You clock George Russell immediately, already mid-laugh, animated as ever. His face lights up when he sees you.
“There she is,” George says, standing to greet you. “Red Bull’s secret weapon.”
You laugh, hugging him lightly. “Still trying to steal me, Georgie?”
“Always,” he replies easily. “One day you’ll get bored of him.” He nods toward Max.
Max smirks. “Not happening.”
You slide into your seat between Max and George, the dynamic comfortable, familiar. But then—just across from George—you see him.
Kimi Antonelli.
He looks younger than he does on screen, suit tailored perfectly but posture still slightly unsure, like he’s reminding himself he belongs here. His eyes flick to Max again and again, unmistakable admiration written all over his face.
Max notices immediately.
“Kimi,” Max says casually, already standing. “Come here.”
Kimi looks like he might short-circuit.
He steps over, hand extended, a little stiff. “Max—hi. I mean—hello.”
Max shakes his hand, amused. “Relax.”
Then Max turns slightly, placing a hand at the small of your back.
“This is my sister,” he says. “YN.”
Kimi’s brain fully leaves his body.
“Oh,” he says, too fast. Then, softer. “Hi.”
You smile at him, easy, kind. “Hi.”
He blinks, then laughs nervously. “Sorry—uh—I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Only good things, I hope.”
“All of them,” he blurts out, then winces. “I mean—yeah. You’re incredible. I mean—not just—your driving—”
You laugh, warm and unbothered, and something in his shoulders loosens instantly.
“It’s okay,” you say gently. “I get nervous meeting people too.”
Max watches closely from beside you, arms crossed now, expression unreadable—but his eyes never leave Kimi.
The conversation settles into something easy. Kimi asks about your off-season Porsche work, genuinely fascinated. You ask him about the step up to F1, his tone brightening when he talks about learning from George, from Max, from everyone. He listens when you speak—really listens—like every word matters.
Later, Red Bull is called to the stage. You rise smoothly, Max trailing just behind you like he always does at events like this. On stage, the lights are blinding, the crowd loud—but you don’t falter.
You take the lead naturally, speaking about the season ahead, the work behind the scenes, the trust in the team. Max stands beside you, nodding occasionally, offering a short sentence here and there—but it’s clear who’s carrying the room.
And you feel it. A gaze. You don’t have to look to know where it’s coming from. Kimi.
When you finally glance toward the Mercedes table, his eyes meet yours instantly. He looks like he’s watching something unreal—pride, awe, something softer tangled together.
As you step down from the stage, you send him a small smile. Just for him. It floors him.
After the event winds down, the room softens. Music lowers. People begin to drift. Max is deep in conversation with Kimi near the bar, George hovering nearby.
You approach, heels quiet against the floor.
“I’m heading back,” you say, touching Max’s arm.
Max turns immediately. “You want me to—”
“I’m good,” you reassure him.
Kimi hesitates for half a second, then gathers his courage.
“I can walk you,” he offers. “If that’s okay.”
Max’s eyes flick between the two of you.
Then, surprisingly, he nods. “Yeah. That’s fine.”
Protective. Watching. Approving—just a little.
Outside, the night air is cool, London calm in that rare way it gets after something big. You walk side by side, close but not touching.
“Thanks,” you say. “For earlier. You were very sweet.”
Kimi rubs the back of his neck. “I was terrified.”
You smile. “I noticed.”
He laughs, then grows thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“How do you… handle it?” he asks quietly. “The pressure. Being compared. Living up to a name.”
You slow slightly, considering him. “You stop trying to be someone else. Even if that someone else is a legend.”
He nods, absorbing every word.
“You’re here for a reason, Kimi,” you add softly. “Don’t forget that.”
When you reach your hotel, he stops, hands in his pockets.
The air in Melbourne feels different at the start of a season. Sharper. Charged. Like the track itself is holding its breath. By the time the race rolls around, routines have already formed.
Max’s driver room has quietly become yours too. Between sessions, you slip inside with practiced ease, kicking off your shoes, perching on the couch or the edge of the table while Max debriefs with engineers or stares blankly at data like he’s trying to absorb it through sheer will. It’s your safe space—quiet, controlled, familiar.
The morning of qualifying, you’re mid-sentence, talking with your hands as you explain something inconsequential—how the wind felt weird through Turn 9, how the car wants more rotation than you expected—when there’s a knock on the door.
Max doesn’t even look up. “Yeah?”
Kimi steps in hesitantly, like he’s entering a church.
“Sorry—uh,” he says, glancing between the two of you. “I wanted to ask Max something.”
"Ask,” Max replies flatly.
But Kimi doesn’t. Not immediately. Because you turn toward him with a small smile, completely at ease, and say, “You can sit, you know. You don’t have to hover.”
He freezes. Then, awkwardly, he lowers himself to the floor, back against the wall, knees pulled up slightly—like he’s afraid to take up too much space. Max notices. Of course he does. Says nothing. You keep talking. Kimi listens.
Not the polite kind of listening, where someone waits for their turn to speak—but the kind where their whole focus narrows. He watches the way your hands move, the way your voice shifts when you’re thinking through something technical, the way Max occasionally glances at you for confirmation without realizing he’s doing it.
Eventually, Kimi forgets why he knocked in the first place.
This would slowly become a pattern.
Drivers’ briefings—Kimi somehow always ends up next to you. Media pen—he trails Max, which means he trails you. It’s subtle enough that no one comments on it, but consistent enough that you notice.
He’s like a shadow. A quiet one. You don’t mind.
That night, the paddock finally goes still. The kind of stillness that settles after adrenaline has burned itself out but sleep refuses to come. Your thoughts won’t shut up. Your body feels wired, restless.
So you change into running clothes and slip out into the night.
The air is cool, the city muted. Your breath evens out as you settle into a steady pace, shoes striking pavement in rhythm. It helps—usually.
You round a corner and nearly collide with someone coming the other way.
“Kimi,” you say, surprised.
He slows to a jog, then a walk. “Oh—hi.”
You glance at his watch, then the empty street. “What are you doing out here?”
He hesitates. Shrugs. “Nerves.”
You huff out a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Yeah. Same.”
No teasing. No jokes. Just honesty.
You fall into step together, side by side. No words. Just shared breath, shared pace. The silence isn’t awkward—it’s heavy, but not uncomfortable. Like both of you understand this is something that doesn’t need to be filled.
When you part ways later, you don’t say much. Just a quiet, mutual good luck hanging unspoken between you.
The next morning is sharp and bright. Time to race.
Kimi comes by the Red Bull garage early, looking for Max. He doesn’t announce himself—just walks down the hallway, hands tucked into his pockets, nerves buzzing under his skin.
That’s when he hears voices. Yours.
And another unfamiliar voice. Jos.
You’re just around the corner, unaware you’re not alone. Your voice is controlled—too controlled. Calm in the way that comes from years of practice.
“You can’t talk to me like that,” you say.
A scoff. “Someone has to. You think you’re untouchable now.”
“I am doing my job.”
“Barely,” he snaps. “And if you keep embarrassing yourself, I won’t keep showing up. I won’t keep supporting this.”
Your jaw tightens. “That’s your choice.”
“It shouldn’t be,” he says cruelly. “You’re wasting your potential. Both you and your brother. Getting soft.”
There’s a pause. Long enough to hurt. Kimi’s chest tightens.
“You don’t get to define me anymore,” you say quietly. “Or him.”
He doesn’t wait to hear more.
Kimi backs away, heart pounding, guilt and anger and something protective twisting together in his stomach. He turns, nearly colliding with Max moments later.
“Hey,” Max says, instantly reading his face. “What’s wrong?”
Kimi swallows. “Nothing. Just—wanted to wish you luck.”
Max studies him for a beat longer than necessary, then nods. “You too.”
When you walk back into the garage a few minutes later, the atmosphere shifts instantly. Kimi looks up. Your expression is composed—perfectly neutral—but your eyes give you away. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t push. Just steps closer and offers a soft smile.
“Good luck today,” he says.
You return it, small but genuine. “You too.”
And as you turn away, both of you carry the same unspoken thought— Some battles are fought on track. Others are survived quietly, together, without anyone ever knowing.
Miami arrives loud and bright and unforgiving, the kind of place that doesn’t let you disappear even when you want to.
By now, the rhythm of the season has settled into something familiar. Max and Kimi are inseparable in the way only mentor and student can be—Max answering questions without judgment, pulling Kimi into debriefs, looping him into conversations with engineers like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Kimi absorbs everything, eyes sharp, always listening.
And somehow, quietly, you and Kimi have found your own rhythm too. It starts with the runs. Before every race weekend, before the noise and the expectations and the weight of it all, the two of you run. No music. No talking. Just side by side, shoes hitting pavement in sync. It’s never discussed, never labeled. If one of you is already stretching, the other just joins in. If one of you doesn’t show up, there are no questions.
Kimi never pushes. When you’re quiet, he stays quiet. When you isolate, he gives you space—but never distance. He’s learned the shape of your silence and treats it gently, like something fragile instead of something to be fixed.
Miami qualifying is supposed to be good. The car feels decent. Not perfect, but workable. You tell yourself that over and over as you pull on your gloves. Then everything goes wrong. Traffic. A yellow you didn’t cause. A compromised lap that never had a chance to breathe. Q1 ends with your name too low on the timing screen. Knocked out.
The moment you climb out of the car, the world feels too sharp. Too loud. You barely register the engineers’ voices, the hands on your shoulders, the reassurances that blur together into nothing.
All you can think about is one thing. Jos.
You speak to the media, reluctantly. You wait patiently for qualifying to end, proud to see Kimi and Max do so well. Max meets you in your drivers room.
“Hey,” he says softly, closing the door behind him. “Hey.”
You don’t even try to hold it together.
The tears come fast, ugly, humiliating. You press your palms into your eyes, shaking your head like that might undo what just happened.
“I messed it up,” you choke. “I should’ve—if I’d just waited—this is on me.”
“It’s not,” Max says immediately, firm but gentle. “You know that.”
“I know what he’s going to say,” you whisper. “I know how this looks.”
Max pulls you into him without hesitation, one arm solid around your shoulders, the other resting protectively at the back of your head. He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t try to logic you out of it.
He just stays.
Out in the hallway, Kimi paces. He hasn’t even processed his own qualifying yet—not really. P3 feels distant, unreal, like something that happened to someone else. All he can think about is the way your voice sounded on the radio replay he heard. Flat. Too calm.
He stops when the door opens.
Max steps out, closing it quietly behind him. His expression tells Kimi everything before he even speaks.
“She’s blaming herself,” Max says low. “Even though it wasn’t her fault. She’s… shutting down.”
Kimi nods once. “Can I?”
Max looks at him for a long moment. Protective. Assessing.
Then he steps aside. “Yeah.”
Kimi exhales and pushes the door open.
The room is dim. You’re sitting on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, face blotchy and red, eyes unfocused like you’re somewhere far away. Max squeezes Kimi’s shoulder as he passes him in the doorway.
Kimi doesn’t say your name. Doesn’t announce himself. He just walks over and sits beside you, close enough that your knees brush. He doesn’t crowd you. Doesn’t look at you like you’re broken.
He offers you his hand. That’s it.
You stare at it for a second, then lace your fingers through his and grip tight—like if you let go, something worse might happen. He squeezes back immediately, grounding, steady.
He stays silent. And somehow, that’s what finally lets you breathe.
Later, when Kimi stands in front of cameras, the adrenaline hits all at once. The questions come fast—rookie performance, P3, pressure, expectations.
He answers the first one.
Then the second.
Then someone asks about the weekend overall.
And he forgets himself.
“I mean—today was… mixed,” he says slowly. “Because obviously I’m happy with the result, but—” He hesitates, then continues anyway. “I think people forget how incredible YN is. One thing doesn’t define her. She’s one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever seen, and she deserves so much respect.”
The interviewer blinks. Kimi keeps going.
“She’s strong. And smart. And she makes everyone around her better. I learn just by watching her.”
He realizes what he’s doing about three sentences too late.
His ears go red. “Sorry—I’m rambling.”
Later that night, curled up in your hotel room, phone warm in your hands, you see the clip on Twitter.
You watch it twice. Then a third time. A warm feeling twisting in your stomach each time.
f1gossipgirls : kimi worming his way into the verstappen family has been my favorite part of the season so far. he always talks so highly of max and yn and says that they have taught him so much🥹
—
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username775 : did anyone see him blushing when he was talking about yn in that interview after miami????
liked by f1gossipgirls
↳ username009 : so cute omg
username101 : i feel like kimi has healed something in both of them ❤️
liked by f1gossipgirls
username710 : funny how their own competition can say incredible things about them but their own father drags them in the press...make it make sense.
The break after Miami almost feels necessary. Four weeks with no race schedule, no alarms set around sessions, no radio crackling in your ear. Just heat and salt and space to breathe. Max calls it a reset. You call it survival.
When Max mentions the trip, he does it casually—like it isn’t a big deal.
“Kimi’s coming,” he says one morning, already scrolling through something on his phone. “Invited him.”
You don’t look up. “Okay.”
Your heart does something stupid anyway.
The island is quiet in the way only places far from everything else can be. White sand, water so clear it looks fake, a villa tucked just far enough from the beach that the waves are a constant, gentle soundtrack.
It’s… domestic. In a way you’re not used to.
Penelope runs through the open doors the moment you arrive, already barefoot, already excited. Lily is passed between arms like the most precious cargo on earth. Kelly is radiant in the sun. Victoria claims a room immediately and Sophie moves through the space like a mother on a mission.
Kimi arrives last, a little sunburnt already, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, grin unmistakable when he sees Max.
“Hey kid,” Max says, pulling him into a quick hug.
Kimi laughs, relaxed in a way he rarely is during race weekends. “Thanks for inviting me.”
You catch his eye from across the room. He smiles at you like it’s instinct now.
The beach day happens naturally, like it was always meant to.
You’re sitting in the sand with Penelope, helping her build something that looks nothing like a castle and everything like chaos. Lily is next to you on a blanket, little fists grabbing at the air, fascinated by the light and the sound of the waves.
You’re laughing—actually laughing—when Kimi appears, already barefoot, shorts rolled up.
“Need help?” he asks.
Penelope looks up at him seriously. “She’s bad at this.”
You gasp. “Traitor.”
Kimi drops down into the sand beside you without hesitation. “Okay. I’ll fix it.”
He doesn’t fix it. He just joins in, scooping sand, letting Penelope direct him completely. When Lily fusses, he’s the first to notice, reaching for her gently, instinctively.
“Is it okay?” he asks you softly.
You nod.
He lifts her carefully, like he’s been doing it his whole life, bouncing her slightly until she settles. Lily grips his finger with surprising strength, eyes wide and curious.
Something in your chest tightens.
You watch him like this—kneeling in the sand, Lily against his chest, Penelope climbing over his back, completely unbothered by the mess, the noise, the sun.
He looks… right.
It scares you a little.
Later, as the sun dips lower, you’re on the balcony with Max and Victoria, drinks sweating in your hands. The air is warm, the sky streaked pink and gold.
“You’re quiet,” Victoria says, glancing at you knowingly.
You shrug. “Just tired.”
Max leans against the railing, looking out toward the ocean. “He’s good with them,” he says casually.
You know exactly who he means.
Inside, Kimi is helping Kelly and Sophie. You can hear his voice drifting through the open doors—animated, curious.
“So you raced?” he’s saying, awe clear even from here.
Sophie laughs. “A long time ago.”
“YN always says she gets everything from you,” he replies easily.
Sophie softens at that. “She was always watching. Always listening.”
Kimi hums thoughtfully. “That makes sense.”
They talk easily, comfortably. Sophie asks him about his season, about his family. He listens the same way he listens to you—fully, respectfully.
When dinner is ready, it’s laid out on the beach. Lanterns glow softly, the sound of waves filling the spaces between conversation. Lily babbles from Kelly’s lap. Penelope is already half-asleep, curled against Victoria.
Kimi sits beside you without comment. Your knee brushes his. Neither of you move away.
He passes you a plate. You thank him. Your fingers linger just a second too long.
Across the table, Max watches with a quiet smile. Victoria catches his eye and raises her brows, amused.
You don’t notice. You’re too busy watching the way Kimi looks at you when you speak—like you’re the only thing in the world that makes sense.
This race feels like momentum. It is undeniable—whatever has been building between you and Kimi has crossed the line from coincidence into something real. Not spoken. Not defined. But present in the way he always finds you without trying, in the way you move toward him instinctively after sessions, in the quiet runs you still take together before race days.
Side by side. Always side by side.
You’ve realized something over the last few weeks, and it terrifies you more than any high-speed corner ever could.
You have feelings for him.
Real ones. The kind you can’t outthink or outdrive or bury under discipline. And you’ve never let yourself have that before—not once. Vulnerability was never safe growing up. Love always felt conditional. Earned. Temporary.
Kimi doesn’t feel like any of that. That’s what scares you.
The race itself is electric. Everything clicks in a way that feels rare and fragile, like the universe decided to be kind for once. Max is untouchable out front. You’re relentless behind him. Kimi drives like he belongs there—calm, sharp, fearless.
When the checkered flag falls, the radio explodes with noise and emotion. P1. P2. P3.
Red Bull. Red Bull. Mercedes—but it feels like family anyway.
On the cool-down lap, Max laughs over the radio. “Not bad, huh?”
You grin so hard your face hurts. “I’ll take it.”
By the time you three make it to the podium, it is chaos. Champagne sprays everywhere. Max pulls you into his side, knocking his head gently against yours. Kimi stands just close enough that your shoulders brush, his laughter unrestrained, eyes bright with disbelief and joy.
When you look at him, he’s already looking at you. Something warm blooms in your chest.
Later, the noise fades. The motorhome is quiet, dimly lit, a cocoon away from the world. You’re sitting beside Kimi on the couch, still buzzing, still riding the high.
Your phone lights up.
Jos.
Your stomach drops instantly.
Kimi notices. “You don’t have to answer that,” he says softly.
You stare at the screen for a second longer. Then you turn it face down.
“I don’t want him to ruin this,” you whisper. “I don’t want him to take another good moment.”
Your voice cracks despite yourself.
The tears surprise you—not loud, not dramatic. Just sudden and overwhelming, like your body finally deciding it’s safe enough to feel.
Kimi moves without thinking.
He pulls you into him, arms solid and warm, holding you like you’re something precious instead of fragile. You curl into his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt like an anchor.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
When you pull back, he doesn’t let go completely. One hand stays at your waist. The other comes up, gentle, wiping the tears from beneath your eyes with his thumb.
You look at him. Really look. The room feels too quiet. Too small. His breath stutters just slightly, like he’s nervous too. And then—he kisses you. It’s soft. Careful. Like a question more than a statement. You kiss him back without hesitation.
The moment breaks when he pulls away abruptly, panic flashing across his face. “I—wait—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to push—I—”
You stop him, hands still resting against his chest.
“No,” you say quickly. Then softer, more honestly than you’ve ever been with anyone. “I just… I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never… had this.”
He stills completely. Then he smiles—not big, not triumphant. Just warm and steady and sure.
“That’s okay,” he says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He pulls you back into him, no rush, no expectations. Just holding you while the world stays kind a little longer.
The Hungarian Grand Prix always feels like a threshold. One last push before the season exhales.
And for the first time in a while, you feel light. You and Kimi are… together. Quietly. Intentionally. No rush, no labels shouted into the void. Just mornings that start with side by side runs and end with his hand finding yours without thinking. Just the way he looks at you when you talk—like he’s memorizing you, not consuming you.
Since Canada, everything has clicked. Your driving is sharper, freer. Podium after podium stacks up beneath your name, each one earned without panic clawing at your throat. The pressure hasn’t disappeared—but it no longer owns you.
Max notices. Of course he does.
He watches you from across garages and debrief rooms, clocks the way you smile easier now, the way your shoulders don’t sit quite so tense. He doesn’t say anything. He never pushes. Max knows you well enough to understand that when you’re ready, you’ll come to him.
Hungary delivers again.
Another clean weekend. Another strong result. When you climb out of the car on Sunday, sweat soaked and glowing, Max pulls you into a hug that’s all pride and familiarity.
“Good job,” he murmurs.
You beam. “Thanks.”
Later that evening, the paddock winding down, Max finds you sitting outside the motorhome, legs tucked beneath you, helmet resting at your side. The sun is low, casting everything in gold.
“Hey,” he says, leaning against the railing beside you. “Kelly and I were thinking—first week of summer break. Somewhere quiet. Kids, beach, no schedules. You should come.”
Your heart stutters just a little.
“I can’t,” you admit.
Max turns to look at you fully now. “Oh?”
“I’ll be in Italy.”
He raises an eyebrow slowly, expression unreadable but knowing. “Italy,” he repeats. Then, dryly, “Does this have anything to do with a certain Italian?”
You feel your face heat instantly. You look down. Then nod. Just a little. There it is.
Max exhales, something between a laugh and a sigh of relief. “Finally.”
You glance up at him, nervous now. “You’re not mad?”
“Mad?” He scoffs. “I was going to be mad if it was anyone else.”
You blink. “What?”
Max smiles, softer now. “He’s good to you. I can see it. And he listens. That matters.”
Your throat tightens. “We’re… together,” you say quietly. “Taking it slow.”
Max nods once. “Good.”
The door opens behind you before either of you can say more.
Kimi steps out, still in team gear, hair damp from a shower, smile already forming when he sees you—until he clocks Max’s expression.
Max turns slowly. Crosses his arms.
“Well,” he says flatly. “There is the boy who is dating my sister.”
Kimi freezes.
“Oh—uh—hi,” he says, instantly panicked. “I mean—hello. Sir. Max.”
You bite your lip, fighting a laugh.
Max lets the silence stretch just long enough to be cruel—then breaks. He pulls Kimi into a sudden hug, squeezing him hard.
“Relax,” Max says. “If anyone was going to date my sister, I’m glad it’s you.”
Kimi laughs, breathless, stunned. “You scared me.”
“Good,” Max replies, smirking. “That’s my job.”
You watch them, heart full in a way that feels almost unreal. Everything fits. And you don’t feel like running from it anymore.
Italy feels like a deep breath. Not the dramatic kind—the quiet one that slips out of you when you finally realize you’re safe.
You’ve been here a few days now, tucked into the Antonelli home where mornings are slow and loud in the best way, where windows are always open and someone is always cooking. Kimi fits here so naturally it almost makes your chest ache. And somehow, impossibly, so do you.
You wake to soft light spilling across the room and the sound of birds outside the open window. Kimi is still asleep beside you, hair a mess, face relaxed in a way you rarely see during race weeks. One arm is slung loosely around your waist, like he reached for you in his sleep without thinking.
You don’t move right away. You just watch him breathe. When he stirs, it’s slow. Sleepy. His eyes blink open and soften instantly when they find you.
“Hi,” he murmurs, voice rough.
“Hi,” you whisper back.
He smiles, small and private, and presses his forehead to yours. No rush. No urgency. Just warmth. Just this.
Eventually, you slip out of bed, pulling on one of his shirts before padding downstairs. The kitchen is already alive—sunlight pouring in, the smell of coffee and something sweet in the air.
Veronica is at the stove, humming to herself.
“Buongiorno,” she says brightly when she sees you. “Did you sleep well?”
You nod, smiling. “Very.”
“Good. Come—help me with this?”
You join her without hesitation, slicing fruit, stirring batter, listening as she talks about nothing and everything. It feels domestic in a way you never realized you craved.
At the counter, Maggie is perched on a stool, tongue poking out slightly as she concentrates on a drawing. She looks up when you pass her a napkin.
“It’s you,” she says proudly. “And Kimi. And me.”
You lean closer. “Is that supposed to be me?”
“Yes,” she says seriously. “You’re tall.”
You laugh, warmth blooming in your chest.
Later, you and Kimi take Maggie out for the day. She drags you both through her favorite gelato place, insists you try three flavors each, talks nonstop as you walk through the streets. Kimi listens like every word matters. You do too.
She slips her hand into yours at some point, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Back at the house, the afternoon settles into something lazy and golden. You step out onto the balcony when your phone buzzes, already knowing who it is.
Jos.
You answer before you can talk yourself out of it.
“Where have you been?” he snaps immediately. “I’ve been calling.”
“I’ve been busy,” you say carefully.
“With what?”
“I’m in Italy.”
There’s a sharp inhale. “Italy? You’re on break and you’re resting? You should be on the sim. Training. Improving.”
“I’ve been on the podium every race since Canada,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s working.”
“I don’t care,” he cuts in. “That’s not enough. It’s never enough.”
Something in you wilts.
You hang up with shaking hands.
You don’t realize Marco has heard until he steps out onto the balcony, concern etched into his face.
“Hey,” he says gently. “Can I sit?”
You nod, tears threatening.
He doesn’t ask questions. Just sits beside you, close but not crowding.
“You know,” he says after a moment, “when Kimi talks about racing… he talks about you.”
You blink, surprised.
“He says you drive with instinct,” Marco continues. “With heart. That cannot be taught.”
Your throat tightens.
“You are doing more than enough,” he says firmly. “And you deserve to rest. To live.”
He pats your shoulder, warm and grounding. “You are family here.”
Later, you curl up on the couch with Kimi and Maggie, a movie playing softly. Maggie is wedged between you, Kimi’s arm around your shoulders, his thumb tracing absentminded patterns against your sleeve.
You let yourself sink into it. Into them. Into the quiet certainty that for once, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.
You’re curled up on the couch at Max and Kelly’s place, sunlight spilling through the tall windows, the muted sound of old race replays filling the room. Lily is warm and heavy on your chest, fast asleep, her tiny breaths puffing against your collarbone. One of her hands is fisted into the fabric of your shirt.
Kimi sits beside you, legs stretched out, attention split between the screen and Lily. He’s carefully letting her grip his finger, smiling every time she squeezes like it’s the most incredible thing he’s ever felt.
“She’s strong,” he murmurs.
“Like her dad,” you whisper back.
It’s peaceful. Domestic. Safe. Then your phone starts vibrating. Once. Twice. Then nonstop. Your chest tightens before you even look.
You carefully shift Lily so she doesn’t wake, lifting the phone with your free hand. Notifications stack on top of each other—texts, DMs, tags, missed calls.
You open Twitter.
Photos. Blurry at first, then clearer. Italy. Monaco. Your hand in Kimi’s. His arm around your waist. A kiss, caught from too far away to be private.
YN VERSTAPPEN & KIMI ANTONELLI CONFIRMED??
THE PADDOCK’S IT COUPLE?
VERSTAPPEN’S SISTER DATING HER OWN RIVAL?
Your breath leaves you all at once.
“Oh god,” you whisper. “Oh god, oh god—”
Kimi turns instantly, concern flooding his face. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
He leans in, scanning the screen, jaw tightening—not angry. Focused.
“Okay,” he says calmly. “Look at me.”
You shake your head, tears already stinging. “I can’t. This is bad. This is really bad. He’s going to—”
“Hey,” Max’s voice cuts in from the hallway as he walks out of the room where his sim is, towel slung over his shoulder. “What’s—”
“They found out,” you choke. “About us.”
Max frowns. “And?”
You stare at him, incredulous. “Max. Jos. He’s always said nothing comes before racing. No distractions. Ever. This—this is exactly what he warned me about.”
Max is quiet for a long moment.
Then he shrugs.
“If it becomes a problem,” he says simply, “I’ll deal with it.”
Your eyes fill immediately.
Kimi slides closer, one arm steady around you, grounding. “You’re not alone,” he murmurs. “Not in this.”
The rest of the afternoon drifts by like you’re underwater.
Max and Kimi disappear into the living room, arguing over a game controller, competitive and loud in that familiar way. Laughter bursts through the apartment every so often.
You’re in the kitchen with Kelly and Penelope, flour dusting the counters, cookie dough sticking to your fingers. Penelope is beaming, proudly cutting misshapen shapes while Kelly sneaks chocolate chips when she thinks no one’s looking.
For a moment, you almost forget. Then there’s a knock at the door. Three sharp raps. Your stomach drops.
Max stands. “I’ve got it.”
The door opens.
You hear Jos’s voice immediately—tight, furious. “Where is she?”
Your heart starts racing. You wipe your hands on a towel and step out of the kitchen at exactly the wrong moment.
“There you are,” Jos snaps, eyes locking onto you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Before you can answer, he’s already unloading.
“You’re embarrassing yourself. The team. The family. Dating a competitor? Distracted, unfocused—this is why I warned you. This is why—”
“Stop,” Max says sharply, stepping between you without hesitation.
Jos scoffs. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“She’s my sister,” Max growls. “It concerns me.”
Kimi appears beside you instantly, hand finding yours. You’re shaking now, barely holding it together.
Jos points at you. “You’re throwing everything away for a boy—”
“That’s enough,” Max snaps.
Kimi doesn’t wait. He gently but firmly pulls you away, guiding you down the hallway, into the bedroom. The door closes behind you, muffling the shouting.
The second it does, you break.
Kimi wraps you up immediately, arms strong, steady, shielding you from everything. Your face presses into his chest, sobs tearing out of you like they’ve been waiting for this moment.
“I’m sorry,” you cry. “I’m so sorry—”
“Hey,” he says softly, holding you tighter. “None of this is your fault. None.”
You cling to him, fingers digging into his shirt like a lifeline.
The yelling goes on for a long time.
Too long.
When Max finally comes back—fifteen minutes later—his face is pale, jaw clenched, hands shaking slightly.
He doesn’t say anything at first. He just crosses the room and pulls you into his arms, hugging you so tightly it almost hurts.
“He won’t be a problem anymore,” Max says quietly, voice rough. “I promise you.”
You nod into his shoulder, exhausted, spent.
Kimi stays close, one hand warm at your back, the other tangled with yours. You let yourself believe that no matter how loud the world gets— you’re protected.
Abu Dhabi. The city hums with energy, a mix of luxury, heat, and anticipation. The final race of the season always carries extra weight, but this year—it feels like everything is coming full circle. The air is charged, the track glittering under the artificial lights, and somewhere inside, you can feel the culmination of months of hard work, tension, and quiet victories.
The race itself is flawless. Max is untouchable, calm and precise, carving his way to his fifth championship. Every lap, every corner, every overtake seems effortless, like the culmination of a lifetime of dedication. Kimi is strong, sharp, finishing P3, and you—well, you’re right there, driving with focus, with determination, with heart, finishing just behind Max. Your efforts throughout the season have secured you second place in the championship battle, and for the first time, the results feel like more than numbers—they feel like validation.
When the checkered flag waves, the emotion hits all at once. You climb out of the car, helmet under your arm, chest heaving from adrenaline and relief, and your eyes immediately find Kimi. His face is radiant, eyes wide, breathless, a grin breaking across his features. Max approaches you both, laughing, his own exhaustion tempered by triumph.
The podium celebration is chaotic in the best way. Champagne sprays everywhere, laughter and cheers filling the air. You and Kimi can’t stop grinning at each other. He takes your hand, squeezing it once, then leans down, kissing you softly in front of the cameras. The press erupts, flashbulbs exploding, fans online going wild. Everyone is eating it up, but it doesn’t matter. The moment is yours.
Max laughs loudly, clapping both of you on the shoulders.
Kimi’s family is there, smiling proudly—Marco and Veronica beaming, Maggie waving excitedly. Your own support system is close as well: Victoria, Sophie, Kelly, Penelope, all cheering, all sharing in the moment. It’s a rare thing to feel so surrounded by love, by family, by people who see you for who you truly are.
Later, the team hosts a celebration at a club near the paddock. Music pulses through the air, laughter bouncing off the walls. You and Kimi slip in together, shoulders brushing, hands intertwined. The team surrounds you, everyone caught up in the euphoria of the season’s final victory.
You’re sitting at a table, sipping a drink and watching the chaos, when Max suddenly appears. In one fluid motion, he grabs Kimi by the waist and hoists him up. “Dance floor, now!” he announces. Kimi laughs, struggling briefly before Max drags him out, spinning him around. You watch them, laughing, shaking your head. Kimi’s face is flushed, radiant, caught between embarrassment and joy, and Max is gleeful, a giant grin splitting his face.
Sophie leans over, resting her head on your shoulder, eyes soft and full of pride. “He’s good for you,” she murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I’ve never seen you this happy, YN. Never.”
You lean into her, heart full, watching Kimi twirl with Max on the dance floor, laughter spilling from him in waves that make you feel like it’s only ever been you two against the world. You squeeze Sophie’s hand, nodding, because it’s true. You’re finally happy. Truly happy.
The night stretches on, filled with music, laughter, and celebration. Champagne flows, congratulations are exchanged, and the lights blur around you. But even in the chaos, you and Kimi find each other’s hands. Even in the crowd, you stay connected. Even in the noise, there’s a quiet certainty: you belong.
Abu Dhabi, the last race, the final champagne toast, the laughter, the dancing—everything comes together. Max has his fifth championship. You’ve earned your place as a rising star. And with Kimi beside you, family around you, love finally allowed to be seen, it feels like the perfect ending.
You lean back against the booth, resting your head on her shoulder, smiling as the world keeps spinning around you. Sophie squeezes your hand once more, whispering, “Enjoy this, lieve. You’ve earned it.”
And you do. You finally do. The season ends. The championship ends. But this—this is yours. And it’s only just beginning.
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They get into a huge argument, and Y/N storms out of the house. She doesn't come back for days, and Kimi has no idea where she is.
I think Kimi would be the type to keep texting and calling her constantly, even though she never responds. He keeps checking in, apologizing, asking if she's okay, and begging her to come home.
The only time Y/N finally contacts him is when she presses her emergency button because she's been in a serious accident. Kimi immediately drops everything and rushes to her as fast as he can because he's terrified and so worried about her.
Thank uuu and i love ur work!!🫶🏼🫶🏼
The safety car
Pairing: Kimi Antonelli x Reader (y/n)
Warnings: angst, arguments, car accident, blood, hospital, physical injuries
Summary: After a devastating argument, you storm out and disappear for days. A desperate Kimi floods your phone with messages, only to receive your emergency signal when a severe accident leaves you fighting for your life.
Requested: Yes
Word count: 3848
Author’s note: I hope this emotional roller coaster squeezes your heart as much as it did mine. Thanks for the nice words. Take care!! xx
Masterlist
The silence in the apartment was not peaceful, it was the heavy, suffocating kind that felt like a physical weight pressing down on your chest. For the past hour, the space between you and Kimi had been filled with sharp words, rising voices, and the bitter sting of misunderstandings that had been building up for months. His career was exploding, the pressure of being thrust into the global spotlight was weighing on his young shoulders, and you were trying your best to be his anchor while slowly feeling yourself drift out to sea.
It had started over something incredibly trivial, a misplaced set of keys or a forgotten dinner plan, but it had rapidly spiraled into a referendum on your entire relationship.
You stood by the kitchen counter, your hands gripping the edge so hard your knuckles turned white. Kimi stood a few feet away, his curls messy from where he had run his hands through them in frustration, his blue eyes flashing with an anger that was so rare for him.
“You are never just here with me anymore,” you said, your voice shaking as you tried to keep it steady. “Even when you are physically in the room, your mind is somewhere else, Kimi. I feel like I am living with a ghost.”
Kimi threw his hands up in the air, his chest heaving. “And what do you want me to do? You think this is easy for me? I am trying to build a future for us. I am under so much pressure every single day, and when I come home, I just want peace. Instead, I get you questioning everything I do, complaining that I am not present enough. I am doing my best.”
“Your best is leaving me behind,” you replied, the words slipping out before you could stop them. They hit him visible, making him flinch, but his expression hardened a second later.
“If you feel so left behind, then maybe you should not be here,” Kimi said, the words cold and sharp.
The kitchen went dead quiet. The air felt frozen. You stared at him, waiting for him to take it back, to say he did not mean it, but his jaw remained clenched, and he looked away, refusing to meet your eyes. Something inside you snapped, a quiet, neat break that left you feeling entirely hollow.
Without saying another word, you turned on your heel. You walked down the hallway, grabbed your jacket from the hook by the door, and picked up your keys and your phone.
“Where are you going?” Kimi called out, his voice losing some of its angry edge and replacing it with sudden uncertainty.
You did not answer. You opened the front door, stepped out into the carpeted hallway of the apartment building, and pulled the door shut behind you. The click of the lock echoing in the quiet corridor felt like a definitive end. You walked quickly down the hall, took the stairs instead of the elevator because you could not stand the thought of waiting even a few seconds, and stepped out into the cool, clear night air.
The city was alive with streetlights and distant traffic, the sky clear and dotted with a few faint stars. It was a beautiful night, completely at odds with the storm raging in your chest. You got into your car, started the engine, and just drove. You had no destination in mind, you just knew you needed to get as far away from the apartment, and from him, as possible.
Back in the apartment, Kimi stood in the middle of the living room, his hands trembling slightly. He expected to hear the door open again. He expected you to walk back in, to throw your jacket on the couch, and to continue the argument or at least tell him off again. But minutes ticked by, turning into an hour, and the silence only grew deeper. He sat down on the sofa, burying his face in his hands. He was so incredibly tired, and the words he had said tasted like ash in his mouth. He had not meant them. He never wanted you to leave.
By midnight, his anxiety began to crawl up his throat. He reached for his phone and typed out the first message.
“I am sorry. I did not mean what I said. Please come back so we can talk. Let me know you are safe.”
He stared at the screen, waiting for the little bubbles to appear, indicating you were typing. Nothing happened. He locked the phone, set it face down on the coffee table, and tried to close his eyes, but sleep was a distant, impossible concept.
The next morning, the apartment was bathed in bright, mocking sunlight. Kimi woke up on the couch, still wearing his clothes from the night before. He jumped up, instantly looking around the room, hoping to see your shoes by the door or hear the sound of the shower running. Nothing. The apartment was exactly as he had left it.
He grabbed his phone. There were no notifications from you. He called your number, listening to the dial tone ring once, twice, three times, before it went straight to voicemail.
“Hey, it is me,” Kimi said, his voice rough and thick with sleep and worry. “I am so sorry about last night. I was stupid and stressed, and I should never have said those things to you. Please call me back when you see this. I just want to know you are okay. I love you.”
He hung up, staring at the screen. He sent another text.
“Please call me. Even if you are still angry, just let me know you are safe somewhere.”
Hours bled into days, and the silence from your end remained absolute. You had gone to stay at a small, quiet hotel on the outskirts of the city, a place where nobody knew you or Kimi. You kept your phone on do not disturb, unable to face the barrage of notifications you knew were waiting for you. You needed space, you needed to breathe without the suffocating weight of his career and your fading relationship pressing down on you. But even in the quiet of the hotel room, your mind was a chaotic mess of doubts and sadness.
Meanwhile, Kimi was slowly losing his mind. He had to go to the simulator, he had to attend briefings, but his mind was completely useless. His engineers noticed his distraction, his manager asked him multiple times if he was feeling alright, but Kimi just brushed them off, his eyes constantly darting to his phone sitting on the prep table.
Every free second he had, he was texting you. It became a lifeline, a way to feel connected to you even if it was entirely one sided.
“I cannot focus on anything,” he wrote on the second day. “Every time I look at my phone I hope it is you. I am so sorry. I do not care about the argument, I do not care about being right. I just want you home. Please, Y/N.”
A few hours later, another message followed.
“Are you staying with a friend? Please just tell me yes or no. I will not come bother you if you need space, I just need to know you are not hurt.”
On the third day, the desperation in his messages turned into outright panic. He had called your friends, trying to ask casually if they had seen you, but he did not want to alarm them or spark rumors, so he had to play it down, pretending you were just busy. None of them had seen you.
“I am starting to get really scared now,” he texted, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he sat in his car outside the factory. “It has been three days. You have never done this before. Please, Y/N, just send a single dot, anything, so I know you are okay. I am begging you. I cannot eat, I cannot sleep. I am so sorry for how I treated you.”
He called you again, listening to the voicemail greeting, just wanting to hear the sound of your recorded voice.
“Please,” Kimi whispered into the phone when the beep sounded. “Please come home. I love you so much. We can fix whatever is broken, I promise you. Just let me know where you are.”
On the fourth day, you finally decided you could not keep running forever. The anger had faded, leaving behind a dull, aching sadness and a deep sense of exhaustion. You missed him, despite how angry you had been, and you knew you had to face the reality of your situation. You decided to drive back toward the city, to at least talk to him face to face and figure out where you both stood.
You checked your phone for the first time in days. The sheer volume of messages and missed calls from Kimi made your heart squeeze. Seeing his frantic apologies and his desperate pleas for you to just let him know you were safe made tears well up in your eyes. You felt a wave of guilt for leaving him in suspense for so long, even if you had needed the time to clear your head.
You got into your car and started the drive back. The afternoon sun was bright, casting long shadows across the highway as you wound your way through the hills outside the city. The traffic was light, and you let your mind wander, thinking about what you would say to him when you finally walked through the door. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, but that things had to change, that you both needed to find a way to navigate this new life together without losing each other in the process.
You were so lost in your thoughts that you did not see the truck coming from the side road.
It happened in a split second, a blur of heavy metal, the screeching of tires, and the terrifying sound of tearing steel. The impact was violent, hitting the driver’s side of your car with a force that shattered the glass and sent your vehicle spinning across the asphalt before it came to a crashing halt against the guardrail.
For a moment, there was only darkness and the loud, ringing silence in your ears.
When you opened your eyes, everything was a blur. Pain flared through your entire body, sharp and overwhelming. You could smell smoke, and the metallic tang of blood was in your mouth. You tried to move, but your left leg was pinned, and a searing pain shot up your arm. Panic set in, cold and sharp. You tried to breathe, but your chest felt tight, constricted by the deployed airbag and the crushing weight of the damaged dashboard.
Your phone had been thrown onto the passenger seat, luckily remaining within arm’s reach. With a trembling, bloodstained hand, you reached out, every movement feeling like it was happening underwater. Your fingers brushed the cool glass of the screen. You could not see well enough to dial a number, your vision was swimming with dark spots, and your head throbbed violently.
Then, you remembered the emergency button on your smart band, a feature Kimi had insisted you set up when you first started driving long distances alone. He had programmed his own number as the primary emergency contact, joking that he would always be your personal safety car.
Using the last of your strength, you pressed and held the button on the side of the band. It vibrated against your wrist, initiating the emergency sequence that would send your exact coordinates and a distress signal straight to his phone.
Once the vibration stopped, your hand fell back onto the seat, and the darkness closed in around you, pulling you under.
At the Mercedes factory, Kimi was sitting in a debrief room, his head resting in his hands as his engineer went over data from the simulator session. He was not listening. He was staring at his phone, which was resting on the table in front of him. His chest felt tight, a constant, low level anxiety humming through his veins.
Suddenly, his phone did not just ring, it let out a loud, continuous, high pitched siren sound, the specific alarm he had set up for your emergency contact.
Kimi jumped up so fast his chair flew backward, crashing against the floor. The engineer stopped talking, staring at him in surprise. Kimi grabbed the phone, his hands shaking so violently he almost dropped it. The screen was flashing red, displaying your name along with a map showing a location on the highway just outside the city, and a message, Emergency Signal Activated.
“Kimi, what is it?” his manager asked, standing up from his seat.
Kimi did not answer. The color had completely drained from his face, leaving him deathly pale. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He did not say a word, he just grabbed his car keys from the table and bolted out of the room.
“Kimi, wait!” his manager called out, running after him, but Kimi was already sprinting down the hallway.
He ran through the lobby, pushing past the glass doors and racing toward his car in the parking lot. His mind was a chaotic blur of absolute terror. The fight, the days of silence, the anger, none of it mattered. The only thing that existed in his world was the flashing red dot on his phone screen and the knowledge that you were in trouble.
He got into his car, started the engine with a roar, and tore out of the parking lot, the tires screeching against the asphalt. He navigated the city traffic with the frantic precision of a racing driver who had everything to lose. He ignored the speed limits, weaving through lanes, his eyes darting between the road and the GPS map mounted on his dashboard.
“Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay,” he chanted like a prayer, his voice cracking. Tears of pure terror blurred his vision, and he had to swipe them away angrily with the back of his hand. He could not afford to lose focus now. He had to get to you.
As he approached the coordinates on the highway, his heart sank. Up ahead, he could see the flashing blue and red lights of emergency vehicles. Traffic was slowing down, being funneled into a single lane.
Kimi did not wait. He pulled his car onto the shoulder of the highway, driving past the stationary line of vehicles until he got as close as the police barriers would allow. He slammed on the brakes, threw the car into park, and jumped out.
The scene was chaotic. An ambulance, a fire truck, and two police cars were parked near the guardrail. In the center of the flashing lights was your car, crumpled and unrecognizable, pressed against the metal barrier.
“No, no, no,” Kimi sobbed, starting to run toward the wreckage.
“Hey, stop! You cannot go over there!” a police officer yelled, stepping into his path and catching him by the shoulders.
“That is my girlfriend!” Kimi screamed, trying to push past the officer with a strength born of pure desperation. “That is her car! Let me go! I need to get to her!”
“Son, calm down, the paramedics are working on her right now,” the officer said, holding him firmly. “You running in there is only going to make it harder for them to do their job. Just wait here.”
Kimi felt his knees go weak, and he would have collapsed to the ground if the officer had not been holding him. He watched, helpless and terrified, as the firefighters used heavy tools to pry open the driver’s side door of your car. Every second felt like an eternity, a painful, agonizing stretch of time where his chest felt like it was being crushed.
Finally, they managed to free you. Kimi watched as the paramedics carefully lifted you onto a stretcher, your body still and covered in blood, your face pale and bruised.
“Is she alive?” Kimi choked out, his voice barely a whisper. “Please tell me she is alive.”
The officer looked back at the paramedics, then turned to Kimi. “They are loading her into the ambulance now. You can ride with her, but you need to calm down. Can you do that?”
Kimi nodded frantically, wiping the tears from his face. “Yes, yes, I am calm, please, just let me go with her.”
The officer led him over to the ambulance. Kimi climbed into the back, his eyes immediately locking onto you. You looked so fragile lying there, surrounded by medical equipment, an oxygen mask over your face. A paramedic was checking your vitals, while another was starting an IV.
Kimi slid onto the bench beside the stretcher, immediately reaching out to grab your hand. It was cold, so cold, and smeared with dirt and dried blood. He pressed it against his cheek, his body shaking with silent, heavy sobs.
“I am here, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I am right here. I am so sorry. Please don't leave me. I am so, so sorry.”
The ride to the hospital was a blur of sirens and emergency procedures. Kimi did not let go of your hand for a single second. He watched the heart monitor, his own heart rate spiking every time the machine beeped. He kept talking to you, whispering apologies, telling you how much he loved you, begging you to open your eyes.
When they arrived at the hospital, the paramedics wheeled you quickly into the emergency room. Kimi tried to follow, but a nurse stopped him at the double doors, gently but firmly pushing him back.
“You have to wait here, sir,” she said. “We need to assess her injuries. We will come get you as soon as we can.”
The doors swung shut, cutting him off from you once again.
Kimi stood in the middle of the bright, sterile hallway, feeling entirely lost. He walked over to the waiting area and sank into a plastic chair, burying his face in his hands. The smell of the hospital, the bright fluorescent lights, the distant hum of voices, it all felt like a nightmare he could not wake up from.
He pulled out his phone. The screen was still displaying the emergency notification. He looked at the long list of unread messages he had sent you over the last four days. They seemed so insignificant now, his anger, his pride, his frustration, none of it mattered compared to the simple, terrifying fact that you were fighting for your life in the room down the hall.
An hour passed, then two. Kimi did not move. He sat in the chair, his hands clasped together, praying with everything he had.
Finally, a doctor in blue scrubs walked out of the double doors, looking around the waiting room. Kimi jumped up immediately, rushing over to him.
“Are you here for Y/N?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, I am her boyfriend,” Kimi said, his voice cracking. “Is she okay? Please tell me she is okay.”
The doctor gave him a reassuring, albeit tired, smile. “She is stable. She has a concussion, a fractured collarbone, and a pretty severe laceration on her left leg that required stitches, along with a lot of bruising. But she is incredibly lucky. The impact was severe, but the car’s safety features did their job. She is awake now, and she is asking for you.”
Kimi felt a wave of relief so intense he had to grab onto the reception desk to keep his balance. He let out a long, shaky breath, fresh tears spilling over his eyelashes.
“Can I see her?” he whispered.
“Yes, follow me,” the doctor said, turning and leading him down the hallway.
The doctor opened the door to a quiet, private room. The lights were dimmed, and the only sound was the soft, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. You were lying in the bed, your head bandaged, your left arm in a sling, and your face covered in bruises. But your eyes were open, and when the door clicked, you turned your head slowly toward him.
Kimi stopped in the doorway for a fraction of a second, his heart aching at the sight of you. Then, he practically ran to your bedside, dropping to his knees so he was at eye level with you. He carefully took your right hand in both of his, pressing his forehead against your knuckles.
“Y/N,” he sobbed, the tears flowing freely now. “I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry.”
You squeezed his hand weakly, your fingers warm against his skin. “Kimi,” you whispered, your voice dry and raspy.
He looked up, his blue eyes red and swollen from crying. He reached up with a trembling hand, gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from your forehead, being incredibly careful not to touch your bandages.
“I was so scared,” Kimi whispered, his voice shaking. “When the alarm went off, I thought, I thought I lost you. I thought I would never get to tell you how sorry I am. I did not mean any of those things I said. I love you so much, Y/N. I do not care about the racing, I do not care about anything else, I just need you.”
You looked at him, seeing the raw, unshielded terror and love in his eyes. The anger that had driven you away four days ago was completely gone, replaced by a deep warmth and a sense of safety now that he was here.
“I am sorry too,” you said softly, a small, tired smile touching your lips. “I should not have run away like that. I should have answered your messages. I saw them, Kimi. I am sorry I made you worry.”
Kimi shook his head, kissing the back of your hand repeatedly. “Do not apologize. You had every right to be angry with me. I was being selfish and stressed, and I did not listen to you. But I promise you, things are going to change. I will make time for us. I will be better. Just please, never leave like that again.”
“I won't,” you promised, your eyes blinking slowly as the exhaustion and pain medication began to pull at you again. “I am not going anywhere.”
Kimi leaned up, carefully pressing his lips to your forehead, holding the kiss there for a long moment. He felt the steady beat of your pulse beneath his fingers, a beautiful, reassuring rhythm that promised him everything was going to be alright.
He pulled a chair close to the bed, sitting down and wrapping both of his hands around yours, refusing to let go. As your eyes closed and you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, Kimi sat beside you, watching over you, finally able to breathe again.
