#kimi x reader

kimi.antonelli ok sorry bella i will let you do my hair as payment ok? liked by creator

yourusername YAY

username excuse me is he calling her pretty ?? casually ??

username “we arent dating” then they drop this

arvid.lindblad taking photos of his muscles now 👀

yourusername oh fuck off

username literally posed up w his little sister

username enough about kimi, look at her?

username we cant even see her, wait till kimi posts

kimi.antonelli

liked by yourusername, dinobeganovic_ and others

kimi.antonelli home before season starts! looking forward to australia

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username he didn’t even post himself im going to scream

username haters see this and say they have a sibling bond btw

olliebearman home as in italy or her?? liked by creator

yourusername yooo i look so tan liked by creator

username her and maggie are matching. i will go crazy.

mercedesamgf1 ready for the season 💪💪 liked by creator

username are we going to ignore ollie’s comment orrr

username we’ve grown used to it.

f1.updatezz

liked by antonelli.wdc, f1megafan and others

f1.updatezz kimi in his interview when asked about motivation! i think we all know who he is referring to 👀

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username oh that hesitation told me everything

username do tell, im kinda confused

username well clearly he is in love and has not admitted it because he fears she does not feel the same and does not want to ruin years of friendship. what he is idiotic about is that she reciprocates the love, both being too stupid to say anything.

username how on earth have you got all that from one interview

ka124life

liked by kimiantonellithegoat, mercsuperfan and others

ka124life i met kimi in australia today! he was super sweet and started smiling when i asked him about his trip to italy before coming here.

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username good lorddd that vein on his arm

username you are so lucky.

username wonder why he was smiling… hehe

yourusername

liked by kimi.antonelli, alexandramalenaleclerc and others

yourusername sight seeing 🪩

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username we missed this (actually getting photos of her on her page)

kikagomes perfect liked by creator

yourusername miss u bbyyyy

kimi.antonelli nice views liked by creator

olliebearman 😨

georgerussell63 😂

username he told mama this is serious now.

username he hasn’t told max yet clearly

maxverstappen1 👏

username i stand fucking corrected.

username kimi is making it painfully obvious that he is flirting with her wtf.

username podium gave him confidence

rafael21 finally made it to china huh liked by creator

yourusername haha yeah lol

username oh we don’t want you here “rafael”.

yourusername has posted a close friends story

replied to yourusername’s story

olliebearman he seems relaxed ;)

yourusername kimi says shut up

alexandramalenaleclerc this is not casual??

yourusername he is literally helping me save money by letting me stay in his room bro

alexandramalenaleclerc how many beds? seen

kikagomes both freshly showered hmm

yourusername you aren't funny.

f1

liked by yourusername, mercedesamgf1 and others

f1 KIMI ANTONELLI IS ON POLE IN CHINA! 👏💨 It's his first Grand Prix Pole Position in F1! 😮‍💨

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username wdc incoming

mercedesamgf1 lets go kimi 👏

username merc domination never bores fans!!

yourusername MY BOY LETS GO

username someone let her know we saw that

kikagomes 😂

username saw what wait i didnt see

username she commented “my boy” lmaoo

username she deleted it so quickly im scared a divorce era is coming…

Everything gets infinitely worse when, because he's an idiot, he throws himself into the Monaco harbor to honor the winners' tradition and comes back looking like Mr. Darcy emerging from the lake. Well. A slightly sillier Mr. Darcy. And a much hotter one.

His Mercedes shirt is absolutely soaked, clinging to him in a way that should probably be illegal. Every line of his stomach is suddenly visible beneath the fabric, and your brain immediately starts thinking about—

No. Absolutely not. You are trying to be supportive. You are trying to be normal. You are trying very hard not to stare.

"Oh, come on," you mutter to yourself as he runs a hand through his dripping hair.

Because honestly? There should be regulations against looking like that. Especially when he keeps catching you staring and smiling about it.

“I'd give all my money to know what's going on inside this head,” he says, tapping your forehead with his index finger while biting his lower lip.

Your cheeks immediately burst into flames. Your hand drops to his shoulders, to the soaked fabric of his shirt, and you shake your head.

“I'm not thinking about anything. Nothing at all,” you insist, pointedly avoiding his gaze.

Kimi narrows his eyes.

“Thinking about those five times I'm going to make you come later?” he asks.

Evil. Absolutely evil. Your eyes go wide, and you immediately slap a hand over his mouth.

“Kimi! We're in public! Shut up!” you hiss.

He only laughs against your palm.

Slowly, you pull your hand away. Somewhere nearby, someone from the team notices the two of you and snaps a picture. A second later, Kimi wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him.

Completely soaked.

Which means you're completely soaked too.

You want to complain. You're wearing a brand-new outfit, after all. But then his mouth is on yours and suddenly, there isn't a single coherent thought left inside your head.

The moment you get home, everything goes to hell.

Kimi doesn't even give you a chance to think before sliding his hands beneath your shirt and steering you toward the couch. He kisses you with so much enthusiasm that all you can do is wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back. It's one of those kisses. The kind that make your toes curl and leave you feeling like you might actually float away. The kind that fill your stomach with butterflies while awakening something warm and restless deep inside you.

Unfortunately, somebody has to be the rational one here, and you know for a fact it won't be the man who's still floating on a cloud of post-victory euphoria. So, reluctantly, you pull back. Just a little. Kimi doesn't understand. He immediately tries to follow you, but you stop him by pressing a finger against his lips.

A deeply offended sound escapes him.

“Baby. Baby. I—” He moves your hand away and kisses you. You try again. “The door.” Another kiss. “Baby.” Kiss. You grab his face between both hands and wrinkle your nose. “Baby!”

He tips his head back with an exasperated huff, rolling his eyes. Then he lets go of you, turns on his heel, and literally runs to the front door. He slams it shut and locks it like a man with a personal vendetta against doors before turning back around. You're already waiting for him, arms open. The sight makes him stop for half a second.

“Well, now we can finally…— Hey!” You were about to kiss him, for God's sake.

But now one of his arms is hooked beneath your legs, and somehow you're suddenly in his arms without having the slightest idea when that happened.

Apparently, Kimi has given up on the couch. He's also given up on conversation.

As you cling to his neck, eyes slightly wide — because, fuck... that's hot — he marches straight toward the bedroom with the kind of determination usually reserved for race strategy meetings. Not a single word. Not a single ounce of hesitation. Just a very clear objective.

“So... what's going on?” you ask, peering over his shoulder.

Kimi shrugs.

“That door cost me about ten seconds,” he replies without missing a beat. “I can no longer afford to give you the quick make-out session I originally had planned.”

“Oh? There were plans?”

“Well, obviously.” He gives you a look. “You see, I've been half-hard ever since I kissed you at the harbor.”

Oh, fucking fuck.

He tosses you onto the bed, earning a surprised squeak from you. Kimi doesn't even bother taking off his shirt. His mouth is on yours before you can ask another question, stealing a heated kiss from you as his hand slips beneath your shirt once again without an ounce of shame. None!

You let your fingers tangle in his hair, and Kimi lets out something dangerously close to a groan against your lips because he likes feeling your nails scrape against his scalp.

Likes it so much it's almost ridiculous.

You remember the first time you discovered it by accident — the way you'd instinctively grabbed at his hair after he'd done something particularly unfair with his hands and mouth, only to feel him freeze beneath you for a split second.

That had been all the confirmation you needed.

Unfortunately, discovering Kimi's weakness also means learning about retaliation. And right now, his hand drifts beneath the fabric just below your bra without ever quite touching your skin. Close enough to make your breath hitch. Not close enough to satisfy. So fucking unfair.

You let him. You let all of it happen because today is his day.

“What happened to my little complainer?” he asks between kisses, his mouth moving from yours to your cheek and then down to your jaw.

A soft laugh escapes you, and you drag your nails a little deeper through his hair. Kimi nearly melts.

“Don't do that...” he purrs, though there's absolutely no conviction behind the words.

You smile.

“I don't have a single complaint today, Grand Slam.” The smile tugging at your lips is impossible to hide. “Besides, don't you have a promise to keep?”

His kisses trail down to the exposed skin near your collarbone, where the neckline of your shirt dips lower. Small nips against your skin send a shiver through you, anticipation curling low in your stomach.

He nods.

“I do,” he murmurs, sending a shiver down your spine.

His mouth brushes over the curve of your covered chest before trailing lower, over your shirt, down and down until he reaches your stomach. Then Kimi lifts his head slightly… And stops. You can see his breathing deepen, his chest rising and falling as though he's bracing himself for something significant.

His hands find the hem of your shirt, and his first instinct is simply to pull it upward.

The movement is slightly unsteady. Kimi doesn't quite know what to do with the sheer amount of want coursing through him. Still, he lifts the fabric slowly, exposing your skin inch by inch.

Your breathing turns uneven.

Another wave of shivers follows, sparked by the friction of the fabric against your skin. Kimi lowers himself again, settling comfortably between your legs before pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your waist. Your eyes flutter shut. He keeps going… A kiss to your stomach. Then another. Slowly, unhurriedly, he traces a path from one side to the other, following the line of your waist as though he has all the time in the world.

He lifts your shirt a little higher, and you have to shift to help him, but Kimi never stops pressing kisses to your skin. Every inch of it. And when your hand finds the back of his neck, it feels almost like a plea. Please don't stop. He isn't going to. Not yet.

Kimi lifts himself up again only to help you pull the shirt over your head, carefully guiding it past your hair. The sight alone seems to steal the air from his lungs. He doesn't toss the shirt aside. He sets it down. A little wrinkled, maybe, but set down all the same.

Then he looks back at you.

That's what destroys you. The way he looks at you. The way his gaze lingers on your partially bare torso as though he's staring at the trophy waiting at the top step of the podium.

You bite your lower lip. Kimi swallows hard.

The choice is yours.

You push yourself upright, sitting on the bed as you hold his gaze. Your hands move behind your back and undo the clasp. The straps slide slowly from your shoulders until you can take the garment in your hands.

You're about to say something. Kimi doesn't let you. Again.

He kisses you like a starving man, one hand finding your waist once again with the apparent goal of pulling you even closer. As if that were possible. How could you possibly get any closer than this?

Oh, Kimi has an idea.

Without breaking the kiss, he grabs your bra and tosses it in the general direction of the rest of your clothes. Whether it actually lands anywhere near them is anyone's guess. Kimi isn't looking. He's far too distracted for that.

Instead, he shifts your positions. Suddenly, you're sitting in his lap, your legs wrapped around his waist while he pulls back just long enough to drag his own shirt over his head.

You don't get the chance to properly admire the strong line of his arms or the abs you've always been far too fond of. Your lips are already together again. Your tongues are a mess, the kiss so sloppy it feels almost impossible to keep up with, but you don't care. Your hand finds its way to his back, your nails dragging lightly across the expanse as though searching for yet another way to get even closer.

Then he stops kissing you.

His mouth travels lower.

Back to your neck. He leaves a bite there, as though he's trying to carve himself into your soul, and a soft sound escapes you. He's not satisfied. Kimi bites a little harder. This time, the sound he draws from you is louder, and your arms tighten instinctively around him.

His hand moves upward. He doesn't linger. He doesn't hesitate.

He simply cups your breast in his palm, your nipple slipping between his fingers before he gives it a gentle tug, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. The sensation alone is almost too much. He squeezes a little harder, and somehow that still isn't enough for him.

Kimi pushes you back just enough to create some space, then immediately closes the distance again, his mouth taking the place his hand had occupied only moments before. Your head falls back helplessly, your eyes squeezing shut so tightly that you can't remember how you'd ever managed to keep them open in the first place.

The thing about Kimi is that he's never in just one place.

While his tongue flicks over your nipple, effectively obliterating the last surviving fragment of your sanity, the hand that had been resting on your waist tightens enough for you to know there'll be finger-shaped marks there tomorrow.

“I thought you were planning on doing other things...” you manage between a breathless laugh and a gasp, mostly because you enjoy distracting him.

Critical error.

Kimi sucks harder, the sharp sting making your nails rake across his skin. He lets out a low laugh before lifting his head and brushing his lips against your chin.

“Could you be quiet for a second?” he says, his voice muffled against your skin. “I'm having a very serious discussion down here. Quiet.”

“With that strategy,” you say, the words requiring considerably more effort than they should have, “you're not getting anywhere close to those five times.”

His hand closes around your throat, and a second later your back hits the mattress. There goes your ability to breathe.

“You want those five times? Fine.” he says, dark curls falling into his eyes as he hovers over you. “You're going to get your five times.”

A nearly wicked smile spreads across your face because you know exactly what you've just set into motion. Your entire body burns with anticipation, and your legs instinctively try to draw together in search of some kind of relief.

Kimi notices immediately.

“Open.”

His hand moves to the button of your jeans, undoing it without taking his eyes off yours. You actually obey, parting your legs a little wider, only to watch his jaw tighten, his self-control hanging by a thread.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, exposing a glimpse of the fabric beneath. For a moment, it almost looks like he's trying to be patient. Almost. Then he abandons the effort entirely. He drags both garments down in one motion, letting them slide along your legs. And damn it, he'd like to treat them with the same care he'd shown the clothes he'd taken off before. He really would. But Kimi can't take it anymore.

He lets everything fall to the floor.

With his hands wrapped around your ankles, he lifts your legs slightly and leans forward at the same time. The movement is simple. His hands glide up your calves until they reach the backs of your knees. His lips find the top of your left knee, leaving a gentle kiss against your skin.

Finally, his eyes land exactly where they've wanted to be ever since he stepped down from that podium.

“Fuck,” he murmurs.

“See something you like?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, that smile still hiding behind your bitten lower lip.

Kimi looks up at you. Flat. One eyebrow rises. You raise yours right back. Then, completely catching you off guard, he slides two fingers inside you and curls them just right, forcing your eyes shut as your back arches off the mattress.

Your lips part around a soundless gasp. One hand tangles in the bedsheets.

“Asshole...” you breathe.

Now it's his smile hiding behind a bitten lip. He leans over you, his hand remaining exactly where it is.

“What were you saying?” he murmurs, bringing his mouth closer to yours.

“I was saying tha—” You don't get to finish.

He curls his fingers the same way again.

A helpless sound escapes you, and you wrap one arm around him for support while the other remains trembling against the bed.

The bastard laughs. Actually laughs.

Fuck.

“You're so sensitive,” he says, stealing a quick kiss. Down below, he pulls his fingers back just halfway before sliding them inside you again. The sound that leaves you is positively obscene. “And you're so wet it's almost ridiculous…”

“Kimi... love...” you moan, involuntarily rolling your hips against his hand in search of more.

That's when his thumb finds your clit, and your legs threaten to close because, fuck. He moves slowly. Painfully slowly. So slowly that it makes you shiver.

“I know, love. I know...” he murmurs, sounding almost apologetic.

The kiss he gives you is just as slow as the movement of his fingers. In and out. At the same time, his teeth graze your lower lip in a gentle bite that draws a whimper from you.

“You want it faster?” he whispers against your mouth.

All you can manage is a breathless nod. Once again, he laughs. And then he gives in.

His fingers speed up, driving deeper, curling in that maddening way that has you grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling him closer. Because when you come, you want to be kissing him.

He knows that.

“Come on, love. You can come for me,” he murmurs, his thumb moving with a practiced confidence.

He knows exactly what works.

You come apart from the combination of everything — his fingers, his voice, the permission… Fuck. Your vision goes white. Your breath vanishes. It feels like being struck by lightning. Your legs tighten around his hand as the world slowly begins to make sense again, your body struggling to remember how to function.

Kimi keeps you suspended in that feeling for a little longer, until you're far too sensitive to let him continue. Then, slowly — earning a soft sound from you in the process — he withdraws his fingers. He brings them to his mouth and runs his tongue between them.

“That’s one,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Hm?” you ask, still breathless.

“The first one.” Another kiss lands on your cheek. “I still have four more to get out of you.”

Kimi drops onto the bed beside you, his head sinking into the pillow. All you can do is follow the movement with your eyes, seemingly incapable of moving much yourself. Your legs feel like jelly, and for a moment, you genuinely think you might not have the strength to continue with the rest of your day. And he says there are still four left...

You're so boneless you can barely process the thought.

“Are you just going to lie there?” he asks, poking your shoulder with his index finger.

“What exactly do you expect me to do?” you reply, covering your eyes with your forearm. “I'm dead.”

He pokes you again.

“So dramatic. We haven't even started yet. Come on. Come here. You've got this.”

You lower your arm and meet his gaze.

Kimi wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You immediately shake your head, finally attempting to push yourself up onto your elbows.

“There she is. Hi,” he says, the idiot, holding his arms out toward you.

With considerable effort, you drag yourself toward him and let your body collapse on top of his. Kimi immediately reaches up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You okay? Yeah?” he asks. When you nod, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Very good.” Another kiss. “Now sit on my face.”

You blink.

“What?”

“You heard me. Come on. We don't have time to waste.”

And now he's nudging you gently, as though encouraging you to do exactly what he just suggested. Your mouth falls open in disbelief because… What an absolute menace. Sure, it wouldn't be the first time. But the context of the conversation somehow makes it worse. You let out a slow breath and finally pull back enough to look at him properly.

“I am not taking responsibility if you suffocate,” you warn, pointing a finger at his chest.

The smile he gives you could probably power the entire universe.

“I'd die a very happy man if I were suffocated by your thighs.”

And somehow, after everything that is what makes you blush. You roll your eyes and look away.

“I'd argue with you,” you say, swallowing hard as you adjust your legs around him, settling onto his stomach, “but I think it's probably better if you stay quiet.”

From where he's lying, Kimi licks his lips, his gaze traveling slowly over your bare body with a devotion that sends another shiver through you, as though he were touching you already.

Naturally, that familiar feeling returns immediately. That restless ache. That impossible desire to pull him closer still, until he becomes an inseparable part of you.

“Better for who?” he asks, his hands finding your hips.

“For my sanity,” you answer softly, already beginning to lift yourself.

Kimi helps guide you, his hands pressing gently against your hips until you're positioned exactly where he wants you, your legs on either side of his head. He bites his lower lip and lets out a slow breath. The warm air brushes against your skin, drawing a quiet sigh from you.

With a little more pressure, his hands tighten around your hips before sliding farther back. That way, he can lower you slowly until… Until his mouth is there.

It's only a touch. Just the first contact. And Kimi knows he made the right decision saving this for number two, because your legs are already weak enough that supporting your own weight feels like an impossible task. In fact, the moment his tongue slips out and traces along you, so close that there's nowhere left to escape the sensation, all you can do is let out a helpless sound and pitch forward, forcing yourself to brace against the headboard for support.

Oh, and Kimi is in heaven. Kimi is absolutely in heaven.

If you knew how good you tasted, you'd never leave his mouth again. Never be selfish enough to let him wander off and live a life anywhere else when he could remain permanently attached to this particular part of you.

Because, fuck.

His tongue finds a rhythm. The way he manages it, he lets it slip inside you once, twice, three times before dragging it back up again. You're trembling above him. And Kimi is so hard it hurts. It takes an almost inhuman amount of self-control not to completely lose himself over how good you are.

He circles that sensitive bundle of nerves with his tongue, slowly at first. That's when one of your hands finds its way into his hair. Kimi lets out a low sound that vibrates through you, and somehow that only encourages him further.

His pace quickens.

The room fills with the evidence of his enthusiasm, and you— God. You don't stand a chance. Drawn forward by the sensation, you roll your hips against him without thinking.

Kimi groans again. Your fingers tighten in his hair. Something in his expression changes. He suddenly stills, one hand gripping your thigh a little tighter.

“O-Okay?” you ask, glancing down.

His hands tighten around your thighs. One second passes. Then another. No answer.

The answer comes in the form of renewed determination. You look toward the ceiling, your breath catching as he resumes, and before long that relentless rhythm is threatening to steal every coherent thought you have left. Kimi only needs a few more seconds before you completely fall apart.

This one hits harder than the last.

The force of it leaves you shaking, collapsing fully against the headboard as you struggle to catch your breath, sensitive and overwhelmed.

For a moment, you think Kimi is finally going to stop. He doesn't. He stays exactly where he is. Both arms wrap around your waist, holding you firmly in place while he continues at the same relentless pace, even as you try to remember how to function.

“Love... love...” you complain, a tear threatening to spill over. “It's too much...”

He doesn't stop. Your fingers tighten around the wood of the headboard, and a cry escapes you when he doubles down.

You're so sensitive. So unbearably sensitive.

By the time another wave crashes through you, all you can do is press your forehead against the wood and let it carry you away.

Finally. Finally, he stops.

You hear the sound of his head dropping back against the bed and the heavy breathing of someone who's just run two marathons.

“Two and three...” he murmurs, his lips glistening.

What is he even talking about?

Your brain is little more than a faint buzz at this point. You're so out of it that you barely notice when he gently lifts you off him and settles you back onto the bed. Kimi runs a hand through his hair and rolls closer until he's practically pressed against you, burying his face in your neck.

“I'm listening to your heartbeat. Alive,” he whispers.

And somehow, incredibly, you manage a tired little laugh.

“These trophies are really getting to your head, babe...” you murmur.

He wrinkles his nose, a small smile tugging at his lips, and lifts his head just enough to look at you from up close. A groan escapes you. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a long sigh.

“What?” he asks, brushing his nose against your cheek.

“You look so pretty...” you admit without opening your eyes.

“And that's why you closed your eyes?”

You nod.

“I can't stand looking at you.”

He laughs.

“And what's so pretty?”

“Everything.”

His smile grows. A kiss lands on your cheek. Then another on the tip of your nose. Slowly, you open your eyes, and a soft sigh escapes you because he's right there.

So close.

Your hand drifts up to his face, resting briefly against his chin before your fingers brush over his cheekbones.

“Your cheeks are red,” you murmur. “And your mouth... really, really red...”

Your gaze drifts upward lazily toward his curls, and you laugh again.

“Your hair...” You shake your head fondly. “Beautiful. An absolute mess.”

Kimi settles into your hand, leaning into the touch while never taking his eyes off you. His tongue drags slowly across his lower lip.

“I saw you looking at me earlier. Up on the podium.”

“Did you?”

He nods.

“What were you thinking?”

“Hm...” You purse your lips, pretending to consider the question. “That you're the best driver on the grid. And that if anyone was going to break records at your age, it should be you.”

Kimi blinks. Then bites his lower lip.

“I thought I'd never been so proud of someone in my entire life.” Your thumb brushes lightly across his cheek. “And that you deserve every second of this.”

Now it's his hand that rises to your face. His palm cups your jaw, and with gentle pressure, he draws you closer once again. He presses a soft kiss to your lips and brushes his nose against yours.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

You smile, your hand finding the back of his neck as you lean in for another kiss. The contact is firmer this time. Kimi isn't teasing anymore. But neither is there any trace of his usual provocation.

No.

He's simply kissing you. Careful. Gentle. Like someone who knows exactly what he's doing. A love letter in the form of a kiss. You remember what it was like in the beginning, when you shared that first kiss. He'd always been careful. Always been a very good kisser. But somewhere along the way, something changed. It stopped being about technique and became... this.

Became this warm, safe feeling that wakes up inside you every single time.

His hand is warm against your back as it slides down to the base of your spine. You know he's been holding himself back until now. You know he's been savoring the moment. You also know it probably hasn't been particularly comfortable for him. So, even as you're kissing him, your hand drifts down to the fastening of his jeans, still far too tight, growing less forgiving with every passing minute.

Kimi doesn't question it. He doesn't make a joke. He simply lets you undo the button and zipper, helping with his own hands as he pushes the fabric lower. With his feet, he finishes pulling everything off, dragging the fabric down his legs until it ends up somewhere on the floor, leaving him completely bare.

You hook a leg around his hip, pulling him closer, and feel him brush against you — warm, hard, and almost feverish with anticipation. Kimi hisses. Your hand slips between the two of you, and when you touch him, a shaky groan spills against your mouth.

You swallow the sound.

Like you've done this a thousand times before, you guide him where he needs to be, and Kimi takes care of the rest. He rolls his hips forward, and the familiar feeling has you tightening your arms around him, holding him close. You stop kissing him only to hide your face in the curve of his neck.

Then he starts to move.

“Ah, fuck...” he murmurs, breathless.

“What?” you ask, brushing your nose against the skin of his neck before a helpless sound escapes you.

Kimi's arms tighten around you, drawing you even closer.

“You,” he says, still short of breath. “Us. Today. Fuck, it's the best day of my life.”

A rough laugh slips from your throat. You kiss him, brushing the damp hair away from his forehead. Then you press a kiss to his forehead too, but the sweet moment is quickly interrupted by his movements, and you're forced to cling to him again.

This time, it's Kimi who laughs softly. But you tighten around him, and he immediately grits his teeth, going completely still.

“Hey!” you complain.

“Don't do that. You're going to kill me.”

A smile spreads across your face as you rest your forehead against his.

“Start moving again, Grand Slam.”

And he does. The motion draws a quiet sigh from you.

“That nickname is so ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“Yeah,” he says, a grin tugging at his lips. “I'm a champion.”

A laugh bursts out of you, and a second later your lips are on his again. And you're so happy. And he's so happy. And everything feels so warm and wonderful that you can hardly believe this is your life. That you get to hold this boy in your arms while he—

While he—

The thought never quite finishes forming.

His hand slips between the two of you once more, and the sudden sensation has you clutching at him instinctively, your vision threatening to blur.

“Love... fuck. That feels so good...” you mumble, the words running together.

He speeds up just a little. Just enough. The combination of everything, the warmth, the closeness, the way he's holding you, sends another wave crashing through you.

Your breath catches. The room tilts. You have to hold on to him tighter.

“Four,” he declares, arching an eyebrow as his head drops onto your shoulder, one hand spread wide across your back.

Gentle once again, he rolls you back onto the bed, easing you down onto the mattress before adjusting the pillow beneath your head to make sure you're completely comfortable.

Even though your body feels almost numb, he still takes care of you, making sure you're alright.

His eyes meet yours, and you nod.

He settles himself between your legs, and when he lowers his head to rest his forehead against yours, you know you don't have to do anything else. Kimi will take care of everything.

The boy who won five races in a row. The boy who has won your heart more times than you could ever count. The boy you love so much that sometimes it feels like your chest might burst from it. You know he'll take care of everything.

Even though you're still incredibly sensitive, your eyes drift shut the moment you feel him again. This time, Kimi doesn't make any effort to hold himself back. The moment is quiet, almost as though he's searching for something. He moves slowly at first, and your eyes squeeze shut.

His pace isn't frantic.

If anything, for the first time all day, it feels like this is just a little bit about him, and he's trying to reach something specific. Your lips purse, and you feel the first tear slip down your cheek.

Kimi brushes it away with his thumb and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“My love, I'm sorry... I need... I...” he says, the words falling apart before he can make sense of them.

Then the rhythm breaks. His movements lose their careful order. A little faster now. Gradually.

“It’s okay, love. It’s okay,” you say, your hand finding its way into his hair, right to the spot he can never resist.

Right there. His favorite place. Kimi knows he’s not going to last. Kimi knows he can’t keep holding on much longer. But there’s one last thing...

He can only do what he did before. His mind, drained of coherent thought by the overwhelming haze of pleasure, leaves him running on instinct alone.

His hand trembles.

A groan escapes him when he hears one slip from you. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’s trying. And the sight of his face drawn tight because of you, the way his thumb moves with determined precision, the sweat trailing down his neck toward his chest...

God. You lose yourself all over again. A soft cry escapes you. Another tear slips from the corner of your eye. And while you cling to him, Kimi manages only a couple more movements before he groans too.

Desperate.

Finally reaching the peak he’d saved for the very end.

And then— He falls apart on top of you.

“Holy fuck...” he murmurs, completely wrecked. “Five.”

Your eyes are closed, your arms spread out, your hair fanned across the pillow when your leg suddenly twitches in a rather embarrassing spasm.

He smiles and wrinkles his nose.

“Still feeling it?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, completely without strength.

“I’m going to get some water in a second...” he says, swallowing hard as he pulls you into a hug.

“Love, you don’t have to...”

“Shhhh,” he complains.

You fall silent. Kimi hugs you a little tighter, and with a sigh, he does his best to lift his upper body, a task that seems to require every last bit of strength he has left.

You don't complain. You don't stop him. Not because you want him doing all these things for you, but because… Because...

Uh.

Why, exactly?

Your head lolls to the side, your eyes already closed, and you vaguely get the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you're falling asleep. The sound of a glass being set down on the nightstand doesn't register at all.

But you do hear Kimi's quiet little laugh. The cool sensation of a damp towel against your skin doesn't wake you either. Nothing does. But you remember hearing the air conditioner click on. And you remember the moment you instinctively cling to Kimi when he lies back down beside you. You remember the soft blanket he pulls over both of you. And you remember mumbling something along the lines of:

“Congratulations... on the wins... love...”

You’d only been dating Kimi for a couple of months, but somehow the entire paddock had collectively decided you were a permanent fixture. You didn’t know how it happened — maybe because you were friendly, maybe because you actually listened when people talked, maybe because you brought snacks to the mechanics once and they acted like you’d delivered gold bars.

Whatever the reason, you walked into the paddock and got greeted like you were on a world tour.

“Morning, sweetheart!” Toto called from across the hospitality area.

“Hi, Toto!” you waved back, pretending you didn’t see the way the Mercedes social media intern mouthed she’s so cute behind him.

Kimi had disappeared for a media block, leaving you with a kiss to the cheek and a soft, “I’ll be quick, wait for me, okay?”

You’d nodded, because of course you would. You’d wait for him anywhere.

But then George Russell appeared out of nowhere like a very tall, very polite golden retriever.

“Lost your boyfriend?” he asked, hands in his pockets, sunglasses on, grin bright.

“He abandoned me for Sky Sports,” you sighed dramatically.

George laughed. “Come on then, I’ll walk you to the garage.”

So you walked — chatting about the weather, the track, the fact that Kimi had apparently grown three centimeters since last month (“He’s still growing?!” you’d gasped, and George had nodded solemnly like it was a tragedy).

You were mid‑conversation when a small group of fans spotted you.

“Oh my god, can we get a picture?” one asked breathlessly.

“Of course!” you said, stepping closer.

George leaned in too, smiling for the cameras.

“How are you feeling about the race?” a girl asked you. “Are you excited?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “So excited. I love being here.”

Another fan giggled. “You and Kimi are so cute together!”

You grinned — and then the chronically‑online gremlin inside you took over.

“I mean, how could we not be?” you said sweetly. “Especially with my mother‑in‑law here.”

You gestured directly at George.

The fans screamed.

George blinked. “Your— sorry, your what?”

“My mother‑in‑law,” you repeated, patting his arm like this was the most obvious thing in the world.

George looked at the fans. The fans looked at George. Someone whispered, “Oh my god the lore is real.”

“What lore?” George asked, bewildered.

You smiled innocently. “You know. The whole ‘Kimi is the lovechild of George Russell and Max Verstappen’ thing.”

George’s jaw dropped. “I— I’m sorry, the what?”

The fans were losing their minds. One was already typing furiously on her phone. Another was crying laughing. A third was saying, “I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT.”

George looked at you like you’d just told him he had a secret second family.

“I— I don’t— how— why—” he stammered.

You patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mum. You’re doing great.”

The fans shrieked again.

George covered his face with both hands. “Kimi is going to kill me.”

---

Later

You found Kimi in the garage, helmet off, curls messy, cheeks flushed from practice laps. He lit up the second he saw you.

“There you are,” he murmured, pulling you into a hug. “I was looking for you.”

You kissed his cheek. “I was with your mother‑in‑law.”

Kimi froze. “My what?”

Before you could answer, George walked past, muttering, “I’m not talking to either of you.”

Kimi stared after him, confused. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” you said, far too quickly.

Kimi narrowed his eyes. “You did something.”

You kissed him again to distract him. It worked. It always worked.

---

Even later — the real chaos

Max Verstappen found you near the Red Bull garage, leaning against a barrier while scrolling through your phone.

“Hey,” he said casually. “You’re Kimi’s girl, right?”

You nodded. “Hi, Max.”

He gave you a small smile — the soft, rare kind he only gave to people he liked. “He’s a good kid.”

“He is,” you agreed, warmth blooming in your chest.

“Want a picture?” Max asked suddenly. “For him?”

You blinked. “Uh— yeah, sure.”

He slung an arm around your shoulders, and someone from the Red Bull media team snapped a photo.

It was cute. Like… really cute.

So you posted it to your story.

A nice, normal picture.

With the caption:

“with my father‑in‑law ❤️”

You didn’t think much of it.

Until your phone exploded.

Notifications. Mentions. Reposts. Chaos.

You opened Twitter.

The top trending topic:

KIMI ANTONELLI FAMILY TREE

The second:

GEORGE RUSSELL IS THE MOTHER??

The third:

MAX VERSTAPPEN CLAIMS PATERNITY

You choked laughing.

Then Kimi texted you.

Kimi:

what did you do

You:

nothing :)

Kimi:

george won’t look at me

max said “son we need to talk”

WHAT DID YOU DO

You were still laughing when Kimi found you in person, cheeks pink, eyes wide, looking like a man whose entire understanding of the universe had been rewritten.

“You told people George is my mother,” he said flatly.

You nodded.

“And Max is my father.”

You nodded again.

Kimi covered his face with both hands. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist. “But you still love me.”

He sighed, leaning into you helplessly. “Unfortunately.”

You grinned up at him. “It’s okay, baby. You have two very supportive parents.”

He groaned. “Please stop.”

You kissed him.

He kissed you back.

And somewhere in the paddock, George sneezed like someone was talking about him.

ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ - ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ.

A cold-hearted woman of ice. The media’s favorite way to describe you. You couldn’t blame them though. You never showed up at after parties, you answered questions with few words and your tone always seemed to be laced with a certain coldness.

If anything it seemed like you wanted to be anywhere but the track, but you knew that nothing was farther from the truth. The track was exactly where you wanted to be, it was where you were born to be.

Nothing made you feel more alive than the sharp turns, high speeds, and the rush of an overtake. You worked hard to be on that track, women had only been allowed into the F1 since a couple of years ago, and even though you weren’t the only woman on the track you felt like you had a certain reputation to uphold.

The FIA was strict, interviewers and paparazzi were shameless and you wanted to give them nothing they could unnecessarily critique you for, no media attention, just racing.

You felt the disdain of many other racers on the track towards your attitude, and you’d had many conversations with Mekies where he’d ‘asked’ you to improve your attitude. If it wasn’t for your skill he would have certainly dropped you by now.

One man however did understand you, and to your comfort that was your teammate Max. You didn’t even need to confide in him about your reasons, he just understood. A simple nod, a simple look, that was all it took. He led most interviews for you or he would steal you away when reporters came running.

You were eternally grateful for that. Besides a teammate Max had become a great friend to you, maybe even your only teammate on the track, but that all changed when the 2025 season began.

Kimi Antonelli.

The new child prodigy of Mercedes, Toto’s new golden boy. You didn’t have a problem with him, per se, but suddenly Max was around a lot less leaving you alone with interviewers prying about strategy and penalties. Luckily the child prodigy took away a lot of the attention from you.

He was 19, only a year younger than you but you still saw him as a child, maybe to distract yourself from the pure talent that he possessed, or his sudden wins during the 2026 season. He overtook with annoying ease.

He climbed up the ranks higher than you ever did, fueled with pure determination and the will to show his team, to show everybody what he was capable of. The ‘new’ Max Verstappen, as the media started to call him.

Whilst your team started failing, Max’ engine completely giving up in Monaco and your engine stalling during the race, too, Kimi seemed to be allergic to losing. Curse you, Bono.

Still you somehow managed to get on the podium, mostly due to George’s penalties. You coldly congratulated both Hamilton and Antonelli, the way you always did. As the champagne sprayed around the podium Kimi made a move and started approaching you, you saw Hamilton mumble something to him.

Over the loud roars of the audience you weren’t quite sure what he said, but Kimi shrugged his shoulders and moved towards you anyways. He stuck out his hand, and smiled at you. Genuinely smiled at you.Not the fake smile the other drivers would put on to avoid criticism from the media.

You hesitated, but stuck out your hand slowly, he grabbed it and shook it. “Congratulations!” he screamed over the loud music and cheers from the crowd, his thick italian accent had the corners of your mouth threatening to lift. 

This was the first time you’d ever had a podium with the Italian, his hospitality was unlike other drivers. Where they’d glare, sneer and grimace, he smiled, cheered and sprayed everyone with his champagne. The sparkle in his eye was unmistakable.

Lewis’ eyes on the other hand were as wide as pancakes. You almost chuckled, and eventually you did. Kimi was jumping all over the podium, cheering loudly and head to toe covered in sticky champagne. It was way too hard not to laugh.

It was the first time you actually decided to ‘join in’ on a celebration, the first time you audibly laughed on a podium. You cracked open your bottle and caught Kimi right as he turned around towards you.

“Not fair! I’m empty!” He laughed as he tried to get you with his last few drops of champagne. Somehow he managed to steal away your bottle and he almost chased you all around the podium with it.

It was pathetic, and it was the happiest you’d felt in a while.

Lewis stood beside you two, staring in absolute disbelief as the girl who’d been a stone cold Medusa to him and the rest of the grid for the past two years, suddenly seemed to melt next to the rookie. And best believe the media caught that, too.

“Antonelli melts the ice queen!” The headlines were inescapable, but you’d never seen Merkies so happy. And rewatching that podium later, you realized you’d never seen yourself so happy, either.

Then your phone buzzed. The atmosphere in the hotel was tense and cold. You picked up your phone. Dad. It read. Shit. That was another thing you and Max could bond over, horrible fathers.

“You could’ve had at least P2, pick up the pace next time.” It stung like a wasp, but not as much as the other fifty times he’s said something like that.

“The engine stalled, I tried my best.” You replied. His response came shortly after. “Your best is not enough, and never let me see you like that on a podium ever again unless you finally win a championship.” You rolled your eyes and tried your best not to tear up.

“Sorry.” You threw your phone across the hotel bed after hitting ‘send’ not interested in whatever bullshit he’d think about your position or your celebration. But he was right, though. Wasn’t he? 

Even though the media was remotely positive about your podium moment with Kimi, it felt like the shield you’d been building up all this time had started to crack. 

You couldn’t let that happen, above all what mattered the most was winning. No stupid celebrations, no fraternization, only the points behind your name. Right?

Your phone buzzed again.

You tried to ignore it, but curiosity got the better of you. You braced yourself for whatever insults your father was going to throw at your face as you turned over the screen. It was…

“Kimi?” You whispered, like the hotel walls were listening. How did he even get your number? 

“Hello it’s Kimi!” The message read, he was still typing. “Will you come celebrate with us tonight?” He was referencing the notorious after parties after each race weekend.

You weren’t going, you never went. You had nothing to celebrate, you weren’t P1, you hadn’t won. 

“Don’t think so.” You tried keeping nonchalant, even though you knew that wouldn’t work on him after this afternoon. “Why not? You got podium!” You tried not to smile at his sweetness.

You had to come up with a lie, fast. “I just started a movie, gotta finish it now.” You typed back, closing the messaging app thinking he’d get the hint and get off your back.

“Which one?” The notification popped up on your screen just as you closed the app. Damn he was fast.

“The Fast and The Furious.” You answered with the first movie that came to mind, maybe you shouldn’t have gone with a racing film. “Oh like us!” He typed back. 

Like us.

You never knew a simple phrase could make you feel so conflicted. Us? What did he mean by us?

“Will you be here next time?” You thought for a second. Your fingers hesitated above your phone's keyboard. 

“Maybe.” You stated, a simple, short answer. Leaving just enough room for ambiguity. Not a yes, but not quite a no, even though you knew it was a no. 

He simply replied with a thumbs up and that was the last of that. You then decided to actually watch the Fast and the Furious, you wanted nothing to do with social media at the moment, nor were you feeling like racing in the sim.

The week went by fast, training in the gym, training in the sim, free practice on friday. Barcelona was hot, almost unbearably so. The kind of heat that was wet, seeping into your skin and leaving as sweat. The sun was bright and piercing through your skull, you could only squint as you entered your car, off to qualifications.

You set a nice enough time in Q1, enough to go off to Q2. You sped up, suddenly you picked up pace, your car flowed smoothly over the burning asphalt, you were quick to overtake Sainz and another driver on the track. You’d just made it into Q3.

The sun was burning, your car was heating up fast, not just in temperature but on the track, too. Somehow you picked up pace fast, you passed Piastri, you passed Max, Leclerc took to the wall. Norris lost his focus, he took a turn way too wide, you intercepted.

At the end of it all you placed in third position, just behind Russel and Antonelli. You felt a rush like no other, this was one of the best qualifications you had had in a long time, you felt alive. So alive. Markies cheered you on as you got out of the car, as did Max. 

But from behind them all came someone else, Kimi. “Well done!” He shook your hand. “You were almost faster than me!” His smile was horribly infectious. You tried keeping casual and professional. “Almost is not enough.” You shrugged. 

“But it’s still great, no?” He smiled and finally let go of your hand. You shrugged again. His face was covered in droplets of sweat, carefully running down his cheeks and disappearing under the neckline of his racing suit. “Maybe, huh?” He playfully mocked, hitting you with his elbow. 

You couldn't help it and almost broke out laughing, luckily you just smiled instead. “Yes, maybe.” He winked at you before walking away to Bono and Toto. You froze in place for a second. Why did he just wink at you? And why did it make you feel even warmer than you already did in the scorching Spanish sun?

Kimi was gonna be a bigger problem than you thought. 

A little while later, you and Max were analyzing your performances during a walk around the outskirts of the city. “You really put down a nice time today.” He complimented you, you smiled and told him the same. You saw the slight hint of disappointment in his eyes. You knew he wasn’t that happy with the team anymore.

“The car just doesn’t feel like it used to, you know?” He stared off into the setting sun, you silently nodded. In an attempt to lighten the mood, you decided to ask him about the Monaco after party.

He started going on and on about Lando giving Oscar a hurricane shot, Lance bitching and moaning about who knows what and Carlos attempting to become the server and dropping a whole tray of glasses in the process. You laughed so hard you swore you would die. 

“You really ought to come to one of them these days, you work so hard, you deserve a break, too.” He nudged your shoulder, you looked away from him focusing your gaze on two cats near the bushes, one seemed to want to play with the other, but he wouldn’t come out of the bush.

“Yeah, maybe.” You murmured. “Wait, was Kimi even allowed to drink though? He’s only nineteen.” You quickly changed the subject, mostly out of genuine curiosity.

“Kimi? Oh I don’t know, he wasn’t there.” Max said it so casually, but that sentence made something go off in your brain. Kimi wasn’t there? Kimi didn’t go? But he invited you, did he not go because you didn’t go? You started quietly overanalyzing every interaction you’d had with him up until this point.

Looks, smiles, winks, texts. Max noticed you’d gone quiet and asked you if something was up. You shook your head, “No, just…” You stopped, “just thinking.” From the corner of your eye you saw Max sporting a big grin.

“What are you smiling like that for? I haven’t seen you this happy since George put in a pink sock with his whites.” You both laughed at the memory, but Max shook his head. “No just, you and Kimi.” You stopped dead in your tracks. Max walked forward and then turned around to face you.

“What do you mean me and Kimi?” He’d said it so casually, you and Kimi, like you were a pair, like how one would say Ben and Jerry’s, Batman and Robin, or Mickey and Minnie. “Oh well you know… just how his eyes seem to be glued to you ever since his debut.” You rolled your eyes and walked past him, bumping his shoulder.

“Whatever, Verstappen! You don’t know what you’re on about.” You turned around with a smug smile, knowing it annoyed him when you called him by his last name. “Just to remind you, I'm the one who’s been spending a lot of time with him, if anyone knows anything, it’s definitely me.”

You grumbled something before walking on. “Come on! Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?” He yelled trying to catch up to you. I mean, you did notice, at least lately. But was it true he’s had his eye on you for over a year now?

“Well..” You started before shaking your head, “It's nothing, nevermind.” You had never seen Max Verstappen be any faster than when he ran up to you at that moment. “No! Tell me!” And you had never seen him this excited either.

“It’s nothing really… just…” Max was dying from anticipation. “You said Kimi didn’t go to the after party, but he texted me that night in Monaco to check if I was going. And now that you told me he didn’t go, it does make me think about why he would even ask me, unless he didn’t go because I didn’t go. But that’s crazy right?”

Max was quiet for a moment, before bursting out in a cheer. “Yes! My favorite teammate and my grid son! This is such a magical moment!” You could only stare at him in disappointment and disbelief before bursting out laughing, too.

“Im sorry-” You managed between laughs, “Your grid son?” Max proudly smiled and nodded at you before going back to laughing. “I can assure you your favorite teammate and your grid son aren’t going to be anything.” You assured him after you two managed to compose yourselves.

“And I can assure you you are so wrong. You will come to the next after party and I am going to personally prove it.” You mouthed blah blah blah at him which only caused him to double down. “I’ll only come to the party if I get P1 tomorrow, so good luck.”

“Then I guess we have to get you P1.” He smirked, you tried to argue but he had to cut your walk short due to a call from Merkies.

You slowly made your way back to your hotel, along the same route you’d come from. You passed the same tall buildings, the waves near the boardwalk, the butterflies fluttering along the beautiful greenery. One thing you absolutely loved about the Grand Prix’ was the fact you got to travel all over the world, even if it’s just for a week.

You loved tasting every country's delicacies, sightseeing when possible, and the beautiful nature. You especially loved going around Europe, specifically the mediterranean areas, Spain, France, and of course Italy. 

Along your walk you passed the same area of trees and bushes as before. The cats were still there, but now the second cat had finally come out of the bushes. Their tails were intertwined as the one cat started pawing at the other. You smiled to yourself.

You had gotten the best sleep you had in a while, and after an early morning of inspecting the track and getting ready in the paddocks, it was time to race.

After lots of laps of keeping pace, blocking Lando, sadly having Hamilton pass you after a bad pit stop and almost overheating in the Spanish sun, you were currently in P3 with Hamilton in front of you, and Kimi up ahead.

You smirked to yourself, ‘Told you I wasn’t going to get to P1’ you thought, imagining you were talking to Max, but then. Lap 43, Kimi’s engine suddenly gave out, forced DNF. You were now P2.

The nerves were starting to build up, you rarely ever got to P2 in a race, you rarely ever kept P2. Hamilton decided to take a pit stop in lap 46 and to your luck somehow their pit crew messed up incredibly badly, making his stop last almost seven seconds. He would never catch up now.

You still had Lando breathing down your neck with a gap of two seconds, and you still had to make a pit stop. Markies was yapping in your ear about strategy, the feeling was overwhelming, god is this what it was like being a race winner? 

Then, Alonso. A crash at turn 8, a safety car, a free pit stop.

A chance to win.

After a free pit stop of exactly two seconds you got back into the lead, you stayed in the lead, and you finished in the lead.

The audience cheered like never before, maybe it was just the euphoria of winning your first race, maybe it was the sound of your hard work finally paying off, or maybe it was the annoying sound of your teammate coming up from behind you.

“A deal is a deal!” He hugged you before letting you celebrate with Markies and the team.

Later, when you stood on the podium and sprayed Lando and Russel with champagne, finally laughing with the grid for once, you felt… bad? Kimi was nowhere to be found and it felt unfair to celebrate with him having to DNF, if he didn’t you probably wouldn’t have won. You owe him.

The reporters were all over you, asking how it felt to finally have a victory, wanting you to talk about being a woman on the grid. One of them dared to ask you if you thought this was just a lucky moment. Deep down you did feel that way, but you simply told the reporter, “no comment.” and moved along.

You looked around for Kimi but he still seemed to be missing. “Boo!” Someone grabbed your shoulders from behind, causing you to jump and yelp, your heartbeat going a million miles a minute. Then you realized you recognized the voice, the accent.

You turned around. Kimi. “You think it’s funny giving me a heart attack?” you playfully shoved him as he laughed his ass off, how can someone be this happy after their car just gave up? “You won!” He shook you by the shoulders, the glimmer in his eyes ever so prevalent. 

“I told you you could be faster than me!” He beamed, even on a bad day the man was like a walking ball of sunshine. “I wasn’t actually faster than you, Kimi, you would have won if it wasn’t for your engine.” Kimi shrugged, “Maybe.” He teased you, giving you another wink.

You sarcastically rolled your eyes, the smile on your face giving you away. “Does this mean you will be at the after party tonight?” He questioned, you saw Max standing behind him, grinning from ear to ear and holding both his thumbs up. “Lucky for you I have no choice, but trust me I am not excited for it.”

Kimi’s bright smile was immediately replaced with a sad frown. “Why not? We will celebrate! Celebrations are fun, no?” You brushed him off, moving your gaze to the engineers in the paddocks. “I just don’t think the grid would be too happy to celebrate me.” Kimi moved to be in your line of sight again, god this boy really does not give up. “Nonsense! Allora, you just need to show them you can celebrate, too! Like with me! We will have fun, trust me!”

We.

“Well, only because I already promised Max.” You sighed, you were almost a hundred percent sure Max put a spell on the other drivers to get you to P1. Kimi cheered. “Bellisimo! I cannot wait to see you there!’’ He was about to walk off when you stopped him.

“Are you gonna be there this time, Kimi?” His face went red like a tomato, realizing he’d been caught. He tried to play it off, “Oh what’s that Toto? To the pit? Right now? Okay!” He hurried off after pretending Toto was calling him, you just stood there, shaking your head.

“Told you.” Max came up from behind you.

“Oh fuck off, Verstappen.”

A little while later you’d taken a shower, the sticky champagne finally washing off of your body. You had to admit you were beyond nervous to attend the party, you barely got along with anybody on the grid except for Max and, well, now Kimi.

They never liked you, but that was nobody’s fault but your own. Maybe if you had been nicer.. but that simply wasn’t an option. At least that’s what your father always said. “They’re your competition, not your friends.” You sighed to yourself.

You wished it could have been different, you’re twenty for God’s sake and still you had no friends, no social life, barely any ambition. All your life you had to remain focused on the track, focused on being the best, focused on being a champion.

And where has it gotten you? You were a lonely girl, sitting in a hotel, off to a party full of people who hated you, to celebrate a win you didn’t deserve.

Your breathing started picking up, your heartbeat became irrationally fast, you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror. The tears started welling up in your eyes, something else built up inside of you, too. Anger? Disgust? Sadness? Or everything all at once?

Whatever it was, it was overwhelming all of your senses. You clutched the towel draped around your body. Your other hand grabbed the bathroom sink trying to stabilize yourself. Your breathing only quickened, no matter how much you tried to control it, the tears came shortly thereafter.

Your knees wobbled, your body felt like it was giving up on itself. You felt like giving up on yourself.

brr-ing, brr-ing!

Your phone buzzed on the counter, vibrating so hard it might fall off, but that could’ve been your imagination. You tried composing yourself, and reached to pick up the phone with shaking hands. 

“Fuck..” You whispered, of course it had to be Kimi It would have been fine if he texted but he just had to call. You ignored the call and let it go to voicemail, but he called again. And again. After the fourth time you were so frustrated you almost forgot you were about to lose your shit.

You clicked ‘answer’ and before you could yell, “Are you okay?” His voice spoke over the phone, he sounded genuinely concerned. It only made you feel worse. Trying not to cry you told him you were fine, and why he asked.

“You seem like the kind of person to pick up after one call.” Fuck, he read you like a book because, yeah, you are that kind of person. How did he know that? You dismissed his worries and asked why he called. “Oh I wanted to know what you were wearing.”

You hadn’t even thought about that yet, you hadn’t even stepped out of the bathroom yet! “Oh well it’s starting in like.. an hour?” You were now even more panicked than before, your hair was still wet, hell your body was still wet! 

“I will help! Tell me what you’ve brought.” You walked Kimi through the select few outfits you packed in your suitcase, honestly you didn’t even know why you agreed to let him help you, you probably could have done it by yourself. You always did everything by yourself.

“You have no dresses?” He said after a while, you put your phone on speaker on the floor next to you while you frantically pulled everything out of your suitcase. “Im a Formula One driver, Kimi. Where and when would i need a dress?” He was quiet for a little bit.

“So from what I hear you have nothing, correct?” He asked you, you grumbled whilst looking at the mess of clothes and shoes on the floor. A few bland shirts, two pairs of jeans, and one pair of comfy, off-track shoes. “I guess, yeah.” You murmured.

“Okay! I will be there in twenty minutes! Do your makeup or something, see you soon!” He hurriedly spoke, and before you could question him or protest, he had already hung up. This dude was unbelievable, but you knew that even if you texted him now he wasn’t turning around.

You silently obeyed for some reason, and did a bit of makeup whilst drying and semi-styling your hair. Kimi arrived in twelve minutes with a knock on your hotel room door, how the fuck did he even know your room number? You opened the door anyway.

He stood there with the biggest smile on his face, exposing his vampire-like canines, he was slightly hyperventilating. “Okay first of all, did you run up the stairs, and how did you even know my room number?” He passed you to go inside before you could even finish the sentence. “Yes I did, and Max told me.”

Always at the scene of the crime, that man, ugh. “Are you finished?” He was rocking back and forth on his heels, clasping his hands together whilst looking around at the mess in your room. “Surprisingly, with the short amount of time you gave me, I am.” You were so happy you put on a pair of jeans and a shirt just before he came in.

“Okay! Allora, I am going to take you to get clothes!” He grabbed you by the arm, dragging you out of the hotel room. “Woah Kimi wait! What do you mean?” You released yourself from his grip, grabbing your hotel keycard, and some other necessities. “I mean, you have no clothing, we have like forty minutes until the party starts, and I have George’s car!” He beamed, almost speedwalking down the hallway.

“God, there’s really no arguing with you, is there?” You took a print, trying to catch up to him. He shook his head with a bright smile. “Now come! We have time, but not a lot.”

“Where are we even gonna go?” You finally caught up to him, he shrugged. “We are in Barcelona! We go anywhere.”

After a few stores, and about half an hour, you finally managed to find something. A cute top, a classy short skirt, nothing like you ever owned before, but you loved it. Along with the outfit, you somehow also got new shoes, new jewelry, another top, some other pants…

To be fair, you had never in your life before gone shopping. Your father never approved, a waste of money, a waste of time. Kimi seemed to love seeing you try on different items of clothing, though. “Okay but this is definitely the one you will wear tonight!” He said as you stepped out of the dressing room in a navy blue halter top.

“Are you sure? I’ve never worn something like this before.” You doubted yourself, seeing yourself go from a baggy shirt to a tight top felt unreal. “Definitely, you look amazing!” He cheered you on. That warm feeling you felt after the race had come back again.

The store owner allowed you to keep on the clothing you would wear to the party, it saved you time from changing so you thanked him. As you went to pay for the ridiculous amount of items you’d just gotten, Kimi ‘accidentally’ pushed you away and pulled out his own card instead.

“Kimi!” You gasped, “Why did you do that! Oh my god, no, I’m paying you back!” You immediately pulled out your phone, “What’s your venmo?” He just blankly stared at you, “No no, I take you shopping, so I pay.” He pushed away your phone.

“You two are so cute, you know?” The cashier gushed as she packed up your clothing. You and Kimi both looked at each other, looked away and immediately got red in the face. “No uh, we aren’t like… together…” You softly spoke, almost in a whisper, almost as if you wish that wasn’t true.

The cashier stopped packing your clothes to look you two up and down, she then smiled to herself as she continued. “Oh! I still have to change.” Kimi gasped as he ran out to his car, he came back with a change of clothing in his arm, you couldn’t quite see what it was as he ran off to the changing rooms.

“Thank you, have a nice evening!” You told the cashier as you took the bags and waited for Kimi who came out of the changing room a few seconds later wearing… “A navy blue dress shirt, really Kimi?” He just smiled as he took the bags from your arms and carried them to the car.

“Was this all just a cheap ploy to get me to match outfits with you?” He stayed silent and simply hummed as he loaded your purchases into the back of George’s Mercedes. “You’re unbelievable, but thank you, I really appreciate what you did for me.” You thanked him as he opened the car door for you, you sat down and he did too. “No thanks! You are a winner, you deserve it.” He started the car.

You had to admit he looked really good in navy blue, the shirt was tight in all the right places, showing off his surprisingly toned biceps. He even undid the first two buttons of his shirt, allowing you to peek in but still letting a lot be left to your imagination. Your mind drifted away, shamelessly staring. And Kimi definitely noticed.

Your gaze then turned to the display screen of the car. “Wait shit– Kimi we have to be there in like two minutes!” You started stressing, checking your phone to see if the time on the display was right. “No worries! We do this for a living, no?” He looked over and smirked at you, whilst keeping eye contact he hit the gas.

He remained eye contact as he sped down the highway, the speedometer quickly shot from 0 to 60. You knew this was wrong, you knew his eyes should be on the road, but you would be lying if you said this wasn’t extremely attractive. He grinned as he took his eyes off of you to take a left turn. Surprisingly you only ended up a minute late, fifty-nine seconds late to be precise. 

“See?” He said with a smug smile. He was impossible. After he opened the door and let you out of the car, you two were almost instantly approached by George. “Kimi! Since when did I allow you to use my car? I had to catch a ride with Max! Max!” George was frantically going on and on about Kimi’s disrespect, but you could see he wasn’t listening to any of it. 

“George, my friend! Calm down, let’s have a drink okay?” He led George inside, guiding him by the small of his back, luckily for you Max was just getting out of his car too. “You had to ride with George, huh?” Max shrugged, “It’s fine, he says I drive like a maniac, I think he’s a pussy.” You both laughed at that.

“But you came with someone too, huh?” He nudged your shoulder, you could only look away and smile as you tried moving past the subject at hand. “And uhm, don’t get me wrong but, I don’t think I have ever seen you even look at a top like that.” He stated, eyebrows raised and pointing at the navy blue halter top. “Yeah uh, he got it for me, along with like.. another few hundred euros worth of clothing.”

You mumbled the last part, hoping Max didn’t hear. “I’m sorry WHAT?” Max’ jaw almost fell to the floor. “I wanted to pay myself! He wouldn’t let me!” You frantically tried to explain, but he wasn’t having any of it. “My grid son! He’s doing so well, simply lovely!” You wanted to argue but Max had already grabbed your arm to drag you inside.

The place was moderately fancy, high ceilings, greek decor, but with the lights off it looked like something completely different. Neon strobes of light beamed throughout the area, you could only make out the faces of a few fellow drivers once the lights hit them, and besides that there were about a hundred more people you didn’t recognize.

Max led you down a few steps of stairs, dragging you along the sweaty bodies on the dance floor and letting you go once you had arrived at the bar. “What are you having?” He almost had to yell over the loud music coming from the DJ stand. “Uhm, disaronno and coke?” You hesitated. Max’ face looked pleasantly surprised, he nodded and walked away to the bar.

You just stood there, arms leaning on the counter, looking at the people you saw every weekend on the grid dancing, laughing, flirting. Lando had his arms wrapped around some blonde girl, Oscar stood behind them, still and disinterested. You were snapped out of your thoughts by a tap on your shoulder. Lewis Hamilton.

“You did well today!” He grabbed and shook your hand, but you shook your head. “If it wasn’t for your horrible pit stop, I wouldn’t have even come close to winning.” You admitted with a half smile, he  lifted his shoulders. “That might be true, but you still defended against Russel and Lando for like twenty laps, that’s impressive, you should be proud!” Hearing someone like Lewis telling you to be proud, it moved something in you.

The man you couldn’t help but idolize since the start of your career, the man who had seven championships to his name, he told you to be proud of yourself. He told you you did good, and that mattered more than any approval you could have ever gotten from your father.

You smiled, praying he would not notice the tears starting to form in your eyes. “Thank you Lewis, it really means a lot coming from you.” Lewis smiled, too. “You are better like this, more open, you seem happier, keep it up.” He patted your shoulder before reuniting with his teammate across the area. You almost broke down right then and there.

But before you could, Max handed you your drink, he himself held something that piqued your interest. “Max, why is your drink piss-colored?” You couldn’t contain yourself and bursted out laughing at the suspiciously translucent drink Max held in his hand. “It’s vodka Red-Bull! Not piss! It’s actually lovely!” You eyed him up and down with a sarcastic look of disappointment.

He shoved the drink in your face, turning the straw to your lips. “Taste! It’s good I swear.” You hesitated, you didn’t want to drink too much, your father would–

Your father. 

It was then you realized, your father wasn’t in Barcelona, your father hadn’t congratulated you on your win, your father had never told you to be proud. The respect you had just received from Lewis was more and greater than anything you had ever received from your father.

You grabbed Max’ drink and took the biggest sip you could, and then another until he pulled the straw away from you, “Hey you’ve got your own!” He pointed at the mixture in your still shaky hand. “True!” You exclaimed, before finishing it in three big gulps. Your face contorted at the bitter taste of sweet marzipan and coke sliding down your throat.

“And now I don’t! Let’s do shots!” You moved past Max, making your way to the bartender, he grabbed you by the shoulder. “Woah, woah, slow down cowboy.” You looked back with a smug grin. “I thought we were going to celebrate my win? Backing down now?”

That triggered something in him, and before you could even blink he was already at the bar ordering two shots of something clear that tasted like pure acetone going down. “Ugh, what the fuck was that!” You both laughed before he told you it was bacardi. “Let’s get another!” You dragged his arm to the bar.

And another turned into another, eventually Kimi, George, Carlos and somehow Oscar joined you too. You and Kimi clinked your glasses together, loudly cheering before interlocking your arms and taking the other’s shot. George and Max did the same, Carlos was the most hyped and Oscar sat silently in the corner of your guy’s booth with his own entire bottle.

You sat in between Max and Kimi, George sat next to Max and Carlos was on Kimi’s other side. Somewhere during the night, Kimi’s arm had found its place draped over your shoulder. “I'm sorry, you let your engineers do your homework?” You were laughing so hard it ached, and Kimi did too. He nodded proudly, work smarter not harder he said.

“Oscar! Do you want to sit with us?” George yelled over to the man on the chair in the corner. He didn’t even reply, just took another swig of the bottle in his hand, before shaking his head. “What’s his issue?” George asked, half-sarcastically, Max just pointed at Lando and the blonde, everyone nodded. Everyone except you, but you couldn’t be bothered to ask what was up.

“I really like your necklace!” You whisper-yelled in Kimi’s ear over the ever-so-loud music. He removed his arm from your shoulder, which involuntarily made you a little sad, but he then went to unclip it from the back of his neck. “You want to try it on, yes?” You tried telling him no but his hands were already around your neck. His surprisingly soft skin brushed against your warm neck, it made you jump a little.

“Allora! It looks great on you!” It was a lot looser on you then it was on him, you played with the whale tail pendant a little and thanked him. He went back to putting his arm around your shoulder, and you all went back to chatting and drinking. That was until you heard a few beats to a song you could recognize anywhere. “Oh I love this song!” You squealed, Max shot Kimi an expectant look, and he immediately picked up on it. “You want to dance?” You nodded frantically.

As you tried to stand up, you almost fell down, Kimi and Carlos helped you back up and you dragged Kimi by his arm to the dance floor. “It’s simply lovely, right George?” Max sipped on his drink and George grumbled something, but quickly shut up when Max put his arm around his shoulder, too.

You led Kimi to the middle of the dance floor, you’d never been a very good dancer but somehow the swaying of your hips and the movement of your arms felt like second nature. You moved your arms to be around Kimi’s neck, his hips moved exactly in sync with yours, his hands placed on your waist.

Your gaze locked onto his brown eyes, their sparkle ever so prevalent. His face was lit up by the various flashes of strobe lighting, red, green, blue. Like always, his tongue was grazing his lips and teeth, his mouth curled up into a daring smirk. His gaze was locked onto you, too.

You moved a little closer, as did he, so did you, as did he. You could feel his breath on your skin, even though the hot mess of sweat and air from around you. His bottom lip almost grazed your top one, mere nanometers apart, you wanted to close that gap.

BANG

Your heads whipped around to where the loud sound came from, and you were met with quite a sight. Lando on the floor, Carlos with a raised fist and Oscar with balled fists and an angry stare beside him.

“What the fuck?” You gasped, Max let go of George and ran over to try and calm Carlos down before he could swing again, but Carlos wasn’t having any of it. “I think I'm gonna be sick.” You held your hand up to your mouth, suddenly the combination of chaos and strobe lighting made your throat up.

“Uh okay, okay. Allora, come with me.” Kim held out his hand for you to grab and you did. He led you away from the chaos, past Max and Carlos arguing and Lando’s bloody nose. You ended up on a balcony on the second floor. 

You breathed in the warm air, in through the nose, out through the mouth.Your hands rested on the balcony’s balustrade, your eyes closed, letting the small bits of wind cool you down. Kimi came standing next to you.

He placed his hands on the balustrade next to yours. “Are you feeling better?” The tone of his voice was so sweet, it almost sickened you. “Why are you so nice to me?” You asked him, but it must’ve been the liquid courage, because a question like that would have never crossed your mind sober.

He looked surprised, “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re nice, and pretty and I like you.” He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from the drink he brought. He likes you? “Why do you like me?” You were genuinely confused, which confused Kimi, too. 

“What is not to like? Amore, you are great! You are determined, focused, you are funny, you are ambitious, and again very pretty.” You looked away, he was nice, too nice. You chipped and picked at the white marble of the balcony’s balustrade. You’d never had someone care about you this much.

“Besides Max, you are the only person to ever be truly nice to me.” You shook your head and looked at your hands, rolling pieces of debris between your fingers. Kimi moved closer to you. “Just hard to believe, you know?” You continued, with full conviction this was something most people could relate to.

“I don’t know.” He spoke honestly, you looked up and met his eyes. The sparkle was vague, you stayed quiet. He placed his hand on top of yours, his thumb rubbing on your skin slowly. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, you reached for it and checked the notification.

‘Pure luck.’ Who else could it be but your father, ruining your night, your win. Kimi looked over and saw the message, too. “Who is that? Why would they say that?” He tried peeking more, but you already turned over your phone, nearly slamming it on the balustrade.

“It's nothing, Kimi.” You tried skipping over it but if Kimi Antonelli was one thing, it was definitely determined. After prying and pressing for a few more seconds, truly no prying and pressing at all, you gave in. Maybe you just wanted someone to listen to you for once.

“It’s my father, he just wants me to, you know, be the best.” You told him. “Well he’s not doing it well.” The Italian bluntly stated. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

“Ever since I was young, he’s been pushing me to be the best, somewhere I believe he always wanted a son, not a daughter. It would have made his life so much easier, he says every time. Just luck, I'm not that good, I need to push harder, be faster. You know, if I had the choice, I don't even know if I would've become a driver.” Your voice was shaky.

He was quiet. He squeezed your hand, his soft voice and smooth accent made something settle inside you. “Kimi, do you remember the first time you lost? Ever?” He slowly shook his head. “I do, he never lets me forget.” Your eyes started to sting.

Kimi turned you around to face him openly, and with a second's hesitation he pulled you in for a hug, deep, warm, slow. He embraced you and held you like you could disappear at any moment. "I'm sorry." He said it so sincerely, a slight crack in his voice, a twitch in his hold.

“Kimi?” Your voice was slightly muffled with your face being pressed into his chest. “Yes?” He let go of you, just a little, just enough to hear you. “I like you too.” You smiled at him with tented brows, his eyes looked watery, the spark was back.

“Are you sure?” He asked, half-joking, you upped the ante. “Maybe.” You jokingly shrugged, he burst out laughing, still holding onto you, you laughed with him, to the point your ribs hurt, to the point your abs couldn’t take it anymore.

His hand moved up to your cheek, it was soft, but rough in the right places. His face moved closer again, like on the dance floor. You moved in, too, it felt like your body was on autopilot, like it just knew what to do. And then your lips finally met his.

His lips tasted sweet, they were soft, pillowy. Seconds felt like a lifetime, he pulled away and kissed you again, and again. First just his lips, then he got brave, he opened his mouth and you followed, slowly letting your tongues move along one another. He moved into you more and more, like there was an invisible void he tried to fill.

Breathless, the only way to describe yourself after he pulled away.

It wasn’t before long until you both sat in the backseat of an uber, on your way back to the hotel desperately trying to keep your hands off of each other. For the driver’s sake.

The walk up the hotel’s stairs was nothing short of messy, you both stumbled up the stairs, your hands locked in his hair, and his travelling all over your body, gripping your waist tight. Your lips were stuck together like magnets, the taste of his tongue was sickenly sweet.

You blamed the alcohol for your reckless behavior, but truly you just loved feeling free, so free for the first time in your life. You were making your own decisions, chasing your own desires and damn did it feel good.

He pushed open the door to his room, surprisingly it was kept pretty neat but the fitted sheets were soon crumpled by your bodies crashing down onto the bed. He was laying on top of you, one knee in between your legs, hands slowly undoing your new shirt.

The soft cotton strap slowly moved along your neck as it came loose, he broke your kiss as he moved the shirt up over your head, leaving you exposed in just a bra. You were a little embarrassed, you had never done anything like this with anyone before, and on top of that you’d chosen today to wear the ugliest bra you owned.

Kimi didn’t seem to care, though, as he made quick work of taking your bra off, too. His swiftness and obvious experience scared you a little. No it wasn’t scary, it was thrilling.

“You are so beautiful, amore.” His eyes were full of admiration, that same sparkle shining only brighter, he slowly moved a hand up to your breast and started playing with it. Squeezing, massaging and eventually licking.

You whimpered, you moaned, you couldn’t even fathom the sounds leaving your mouth. You hands pulled at his curls, he looked up to you and you tugged at his shirt. He smirked as he understood your request and moved his button up out of the way.

The man was built. Like incredibly so, obviously he had to have a nice physique, being a driver and all but you never expected him to be this toned.

He hesitated for a second, his hands were frozen mid air as he reached for your body. “What do you want to do?” He asked. A question so simple but still stirring something inside of you. What did you want to do? He was so considerate, so sweet. You knew a question like this was what would be considered the bare minimum.

But to someone who had never been offered even the bare minimum Kimi was like an angel sent from heaven.

“I want..” You stopped, you thought, you considered. “I want you, I want everything.” That’s all you had to say, the look in his eyes, the surprise of your words activated something inside of him. Something pure, something raw.

He almost ripped your bottoms off, taking your underwear off, too. You were left naked on the bed, and before long he was bare too. You almost gasped at the sight of him, people often made jokes online about how it was a tick for him to reach for his crotch when nervous and that it must be big.

They’d never know how right they were. He was big, and thick too. A few large veins ran up from the bottom to the tip. He noticed your staring, and tried comforting you. “I’ll be gentle, prometto.”

And gentle he was. After spending a good amount of time kissing, licking and biting you all over, leaving marks everywhere he moved between your thighs. He licked a long striped all the way up to your pussy. He circled your clit with his tongue.

You felt him make shapes, licking you all over. You gripped the sheets and moaned so much your throat hurt, this new sensation was nothing like you ever experienced before, not even with your own fingers. 

Kimi was way too talented, and after a few minutes you felt something build up inside of you. You weren’t quite sure what it was but you knew you didn’t want him to stop. You whimpered as the feeling only got stronger and stronger. Like a firework something burst inside of you, you felt it from the tips of your toes to your ears, almost getting goosebumps.

“Was it good?” He looked up from in between your legs, his mouth was covered in your juices, and much like on the podium his tongue was out, licking up the remaining cum leaking from your pussy.

“I, think so, yeah.” You almost whispered, still catching your breath. He smirked and took two of his fingers, slowly wetting them in between your folds and pushing them inside, “Good.” He ate you out again, and again. Your head was full of pleasure, your body weak from the overwhelming orgasms he was giving you.

After number.. you lost count. You pulled his head away from your pussy, “Can I please feel you now?” His eyes went wide, shocked at how nicely you asked him. God you turned him on so bad. He stuttered a little before just simply nodding.

He lifted you up and against the headboard of the bed, spreading your legs again. “I hope I prepared you enough.” He slowly moved towards you, hesitating a little before nudging your entrance with his tip, coating it in your slick. “Just do it, please Kimi.”

The way you said his name so sweetly, so desperately, like you needed it, like you needed him. How could he ever refuse?

“You drive me crazy, amore.” He slowly pushed himself inside of you, letting out a low and broken moan. You reassured him you were okay, and he started moving inside of you. You held onto him by his neck, placing kisses and bites all over. His head was by your ear.

He was incredibly vocal. Moaning and whimpering in your ear as he thrusted harder and harder, his hips slamming against you. He moaned some unintelligible Italian stuff as well, something “così perfetto” and “Sei bellissima, amore.” Whatever he said it sounded hot, and that’s all that mattered. 

You were left like that all night, with him slamming inside of you at relentless speed, the man’s stamina was unbeatable. From missionary to doggy, grabbing and pulling you by the hair, slapping your ass. Prone bone, with his sweaty body slicking and rubbing against you holding you by the neck. 

His lips were always by your ear, licking and moaning. You lost count of how many times he made you cum, hell you lost count of how many times he came.

“You’re so beautiful, so pretty, a-ah.. I’ve wanted this for so long.. wanted you.. needed you amore.” 

His words of praise drove you crazy, and it seemed like the night would never end, his necklace was still around your neck, the cold metal feeling like home against your skin. But all good things must come to an end.

The morning came, the sunlight pierced through the curtains of the hotel room, waking you up unwillingly. Your head was killing you, for a second you didn’t even know where you were. Then you realized why you actually woke up.

Your phone buzzed like crazy beside you on the floor, you picked it up. Headlines, news stories, messages from Merkies, Max, your father even. Your eyes were unfocused, your head pounded like crazy, you tried reading any of it but gave up, you scrolled the news articles Merkies sent you. It was a picture of you and Kimi, kissing on the balustrade.

lewishamilton: Proud of you always. You’ve got that Hamilton energy 😎🖤

liked by ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : love you dad

carmenmmundt: you are actually radiant omg 🔥

liked by ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : i miss you sm 😭

isackhadjar: ok but who’s the guy in white 👀

liked by ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : creative direction, babe.

yourbestfriend : you are so unreal <3

liked by ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : says youuuuu

dior : our girl 🖤

liked by ynhamilton and lewishamilton

↳ ynhamilton : love you so much

georgerussell63 : miss my personal stylist :(

liked by ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : miss my ken doll model :(

susie_wolff : Beautiful girl! Miss you 🤍

liked by ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : susie 🥹

sebastianvettel : Mein Liebling 💗 So proud of you!

liked by ynhamilton and lewishamilton

↳ ynhamilton : miss you so much uncle seb 🥰 can't wait to see you!

liked by sebastianvettel and lewishamilton

gabrielbortoleto: nah cause who is bro in slide 3 😭😭

liked by ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : you rookies r nosey DAMN

kimi.antonelli : 👀

liked by ynhamilton

↳ username005 : ?????

↳ username007 : mystery man could be kimi...

࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆

The Dior studio is bathed in soft afternoon light — golden and warm, pouring through the tall windows that overlook the quiet Paris street below. The city hums faintly outside, but inside, there’s only the sound of fabric slipping under your fingers and the low whir of the sewing machine.

You’ve been here since morning — hair tied up, sleeves rolled, music playing low on the speaker as you lose yourself in your work. The Dior project has consumed every ounce of you lately. You’d been given creative freedom to design a capsule collection inspired by “modern rebellion,” and you’d been living off coffee, adrenaline, and the thrill of creation ever since.

A yellow fabric — bold, radiant, just the right shade to demand attention — sits on the mannequin in front of you. You tug at a seam, adjusting the drape, stepping back to examine your work. It’s coming together beautifully.

You don’t even hear the door open at first. It’s only when the familiar scent of his cologne — clean, a little sharp, unmistakably him — hits you that you look up.

“Kimi?”

He’s standing in the doorway, Mercedes hoodie half-zipped, hair a little messy from travel, and that quiet, boyish smile that always makes your chest flutter.

“Hi,” he says softly, closing the door behind him. “I had a few days off. Thought I’d… stop by.”

You blink, trying not to grin too hard. “In Paris?”

He shrugs, walking closer. “Flight wasn’t long. And I missed you.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips betray you, curving into a full smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs, stopping just in front of you, “but it worked.”

You lean into him instinctively when his arms slide around your waist. He kisses the side of your neck, light and fleeting, careful not to smudge the makeup you’ve barely remembered to apply that morning.

“God, you smell amazing,” he teases.

“That’s what hard work smells like,” you shoot back, laughing quietly. “What are you doing here, really?”

He pulls back enough to look at you properly. “I wanted to see you before Brazil. And I wanted to see what you’ve been working on.” His gaze drifts to the rack of half-finished pieces and sketches pinned to the wall. “It’s insane in here. In a good way.”

You smile, a little proud. “Actually… I made something for you.”

That gets his attention instantly — his eyes light up. “For me?”

“Mmhm.” You walk to the rack, rifling through hangers until you find it — a crisp white two-piece set you’ve been working on for weeks. Soft tailored trousers, slightly oversized shirt, clean lines, structured shoulders. Minimal, elegant — very him.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d like it,” you admit, handing it to him, “but I thought — if you’re going to be the face of Mercedes’ next generation, you might as well dress like it.”

He grins. “You designed this?”

You nod. “From scratch.”

He doesn’t hesitate — just disappears into the adjoining room to change. When he walks back out, it’s over for you. The fit is perfect. The all-white contrasts against his darker hair, and the fabric moves effortlessly with him as he walks.

You stare for a second too long before finding your voice again. “Okay, wow. Yeah. You’re keeping that.”

He chuckles softly. “You sure? I don’t want to get it dirty.”

“I’ll make another,” you say, pretending to sound casual, but he catches the warmth in your tone.

“Feels like it was made for me,” he says, tugging lightly at the cuff.

“It was,” you reply simply.

He smiles — that shy, small, real smile he saves just for you. “Then I love it.”

You’re still smiling when your phone buzzes on the worktable. You glance over — Dad 💜 — and your stomach flips.

“Shit,” you whisper, fumbling to pick it up. “Act normal.”

Kimi snorts. “What’s normal?”

You glare at him as you swipe to answer. “Hi, Dad!”

Lewis’ voice comes through immediately, warm and bright. “Hey, sweetheart! You’re in the studio, yeah? Just checking in on you.”

You turn the camera slightly so it shows your workspace — not Kimi standing a few feet away pretending to study a mannequin. “Yeah! Just finishing some sketches and samples.”

Lewis grins at the screen. “Look at you, all focused. Dior treating you well?”

“Always,” you say, smiling wide. You can feel Kimi behind the camera now — doing something stupid, probably trying to make you laugh — and it’s working because your grin just keeps growing.

Lewis narrows his eyes slightly. “What’s got you smiling like that?”

Your breath catches. “What? Nothing! I’m just… happy. It’s been a good day.”

Behind you, Kimi mimics your tone under his breath, lips quirking up, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

Lewis raises an eyebrow but lets it go with a faint chuckle. “Alright, alright. Just making sure you’re not overworking yourself. I know how you get when you’re in the zone.”

“I promise I’m fine,” you say softly. “And I’m really proud of this one, Dad. I think you’ll like it.”

“I always do,” he says, smiling. “You’re brilliant, kid. Keep shining, yeah?”

“Always,” you reply.

You hang up, exhale slowly, then turn to Kimi, who’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“You almost got me killed,” you say, throwing a stray fabric swatch at him.

He catches it easily, smirking. “Worth it.”

You cross your arms. “You think everything’s worth it.”

He steps closer, lowering his voice just a little. “Not everything. Just you.”

You melt again — Dior project forgotten for the moment as he leans in, his forehead brushing yours, his voice soft against the hum of the city outside.

࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆

The city is soft tonight — the kind of Paris evening that feels half like a dream, half like a secret. Below, the lights flicker against the Seine, and every so often, you can hear a car hum by, its sound echoing faintly through the open window of your penthouse suite.

You’re curled up on the couch, wrapped in a loose cream cardigan and tucked under Kimi’s arm. The penthouse is all soft neutrals, glass, and muted golds, but somehow, with him here — socks mismatched, hair still damp from his shower — it feels like home.

The two of you have been doing absolutely nothing for the past hour. Just being. Watching the city. Talking about everything and nothing.

Kimi’s voice is quiet, his accent wrapping around every word like a whisper. “You know… this place doesn’t feel real.”

You glance up at him, chin resting against his shoulder. “It’s not,” you say softly. “Dior’s paying for this whole setup. I feel like I’m in some kind of movie.”

He hums. “A good one, I hope.”

“The best,” you reply, smiling faintly. “You being here makes it better.”

He turns to look at you, that small, crooked smile tugging at his lips. “You always say stuff like that and expect me to be normal after.”

You laugh quietly, pressing your face into his chest. His hand rubs lazy circles on your arm, and for a moment, everything is still — the chaos of F1, the fashion world, the secrecy — it all fades.

Then Kimi says, “By the way, I got us dinner reservations.”

You tilt your head up. “Dinner?”

He nods, that boyish glint in his eyes again. “Your favorite place. Le Meurice. 8:30.”

Your mouth falls open. “Kimi! That place books out weeks in advance!”

He looks smug. “I asked Toto for help.”

You blink, torn between horror and amusement. “You what?”

He shrugs. “He owed me a favor. He didn’t ask questions.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but your heart swells a little. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m romantic,” he corrects. “And you deserve it.”

Later, your penthouse is a flurry of controlled chaos — jewelry boxes open, a curling iron plugged in, Kimi’s cologne hanging in the air.

You’re in front of the mirror, slipping into a sleek black satin dress that catches the light every time you move. Kimi’s sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed — white shirt, tailored jacket, the same one you helped design for him weeks ago.

“You’re staring,” you say, catching his reflection in the mirror.

“I can’t help it,” he admits easily. “You look…” He trails off, shaking his head slightly. “Beautiful doesn’t even cover it.”

You feel heat rise in your cheeks. “You clean up pretty well yourself,” you tease, walking over to fix the collar of his jacket. “There. Perfect.”

He catches your wrist gently before you pull away. “You nervous?”

You hesitate. “A little. Feels like we’re walking around with a neon sign that says Hamilton’s daughter and Mercedes’ golden boy — together.”

He laughs under his breath. “Then we just don’t get caught.”

You roll your eyes. “Easy for you to say.”

But still, when he offers his hand as you leave, you take it — fingers brushing, not quite lacing together as you walk through the marble lobby and into the crisp Paris night.

Dinner is perfect.

Le Meurice is candlelit and warm, the scent of truffle and butter in the air. You sit across from Kimi, your heels brushing against his shoes beneath the table as you sip champagne. He keeps making you laugh quietly — about Toto’s confused expression when he asked for the reservation, about how George tried to give him “fashion advice” in the drivers’ room.

For a while, it feels easy. Simple. Until it’s not.

You see them out of the corner of your eye first — a familiar silhouette, tall and graceful, with that walk you could recognize anywhere. Lewis. And beside him — Nicole.

Your stomach drops.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, sitting up straighter.

Kimi looks up immediately. “What?”

You tilt your head slightly, voice barely above a breath. “My dad. He’s here. With my mom.”

Kimi’s fork pauses mid-air. “What do we do?”

“Panic quietly,” you hiss. Then, trying to think quickly, you add, “Okay, okay. Go to the bathroom. Now.”

“What?”

“Kimi, go. Before they see you!”

He blinks at you, confused but obedient. “Okay, okay.” He pushes his chair back, trying not to draw attention as he disappears toward the back of the restaurant.

You exhale slowly, turning your attention to your water glass, pretending to scroll through your phone.

But fate, of course, has no mercy.

“Sweetheart?”

You freeze before slowly looking up. “Dad! Hi!”

Lewis smiles wide, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, his silver jewelry glinting under the restaurant lights. Nicole waves cheerfully beside him.

“I didn’t know you were in Paris!” you say quickly, your heart hammering.

He grins. “Surprise! I wanted to check on you — maybe we could fly to Brazil together for the next race. And Nicole’s here doing some fashion week stuff, so I thought, why not?”

“That’s… great!” you manage, forcing a smile.

Lewis glances at the table, eyes flicking toward the spot across from you — empty wine glass, half-folded napkin. “You here alone?”

Your pulse jumps. “Um — no, I mean, yes — sort of. I’m with someone from the Dior team. We were talking about fabrics and, uh, collaboration stuff.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but doesn’t push. “Mhm.” He smiles again, softer now. “Alright. Just make sure you’re not working too hard, yeah? You look tired.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you say, laughing nervously.

He kisses your forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Love you.”

“Love you too,” you whisper as he and Nicole head toward the door, waving goodbye.

You wait until they’re out of sight before you slump back in your chair, exhaling the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

A moment later, Kimi returns, eyebrows raised. “Is it safe?”

You nod, still wide-eyed. “Barely. I told him I was here with someone from Dior. He so didn’t buy it.”

Kimi chuckles, sitting back down. “He didn’t see me?”

“No, thank God. But if he had—”

“—we’d be on the front page of every F1 gossip page by morning?” he finishes for you.

You nod gravely. “Exactly.”

He laughs again, reaching across the table to steal your dessert fork. “Then we’ll eat this and pretend it didn’t happen.”

You watch him take a bite of the chocolate soufflé, a smudge of powdered sugar dusting the corner of his lip. You can’t help but laugh, finally relaxing again.

“You have sugar on your mouth,” you say, leaning over to wipe it off with your thumb.

He catches your hand gently, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “You worry too much,” he murmurs.

“And you don’t worry enough,” you counter.

“Maybe that’s why we work,” he says simply.

You look at him for a moment, the soft glow of candlelight reflected in his eyes — calm, steady, adoring. Despite everything — the secrecy, the chaos, the near-misses — it still feels like something solid. Something real.

You smile faintly. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Maybe that’s exactly why.”

࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆

You wake up to sunlight slicing through the sheer curtains, cutting soft stripes across the duvet. For a moment, it’s quiet — the city hums faintly below, and Kimi’s arm is draped lazily over your waist, his breathing slow and even. Then the panic hits.

You sit up so fast the blanket slips off your shoulders. “Shit,” you whisper, glancing at the clock. It’s 8:17 a.m. Your dad’s jet leaves at ten.

Kimi stirs, groaning softly. “What?”

You’re already halfway across the room, grabbing your open suitcase. “My dad. The jet. We’re leaving for Brazil in like—” you glance at your phone “—ninety minutes, and I still haven’t packed.”

He blinks, hair a mess, voice rough from sleep. “You could’ve told me last night.”

“I was too busy having a minor breakdown about almost getting caught!” you hiss, throwing clothes into the suitcase without folding.

Kimi sits up, rubbing his eyes. “What are you gonna tell him about me?”

“I don’t know yet!” you admit, pacing. “He’s gonna be suspicious no matter what. God, I can’t just leave you here though, can I?”

Kimi raises an eyebrow. “You’re suggesting I fly on the jet. With him.”

“I’m suggesting,” you say, pointing at him, “that you act like you’ve never met me outside of the paddock and that this is just a totally normal, totally platonic trip.”

He grins. “You think I can pull that off?”

“No,” you say honestly, “but we have to try.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in the middle of the penthouse, phone pressed to your ear as you zip your suitcase shut.

“Hey, Dad,” you say, trying to sound casual.

Lewis’ voice crackles through. “Morning, baby girl. You up?”

“Yeah! Almost ready to go,” you say quickly. “Um — can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Would it be okay if I brought a friend on the jet? They’re heading to São Paulo too, and it’d just be easier than booking another flight.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end. Then, in true Lewis fashion, “Of course, love. The more the merrier. Who is it?”

Your brain scrambles for a vague half-truth. “Uh — Kimi.”

“Kimi Antonelli?”

“Yeah,” you say, praying he doesn’t ask why. “He was visiting a friend in Paris, and I figured he shouldn’t have to fly alone. Plus, it’s kind of on the way.”

Lewis chuckles. “That’s thoughtful of you. I’ll have the crew add his name.”

You exhale quietly. “Thanks, Dad.”

You exhale quietly. “Thanks,”

“Always, darling. See you soon.”

The ride to Le Bourget is a blur — the city flashing by, your mind a jumble of “what ifs” and “please don’t let him figure it out.” Kimi sits beside you in the backseat, dressed in his usual understated style: hoodie, black joggers, a Dior cap (which, yes, you designed), and that calm expression that hides how nervous he really is.

“You okay?” you ask softly.

He nods, though his fingers tap against his knee. “It’s just weird. Flying with him.”

You smile faintly. “He likes you. He just… can’t ever find out why.”

When you arrive, the silver jet gleams on the runway, sleek and elegant — like everything your father touches. The stairs are already down, and Lewis is at the top, sunglasses on, phone in hand, that easy smile spreading as soon as he spots you.

“Hey, sweetheart!” he calls.

“Hi, Dad!” You wave, climbing up — and then step aside to let Kimi follow.

Lewis blinks in surprise when he sees him. “Kimi! Didn’t expect you to be seeing you.”

Kimi gives a polite, slightly awkward smile. “Hi, Mr. Hamilton. Hope that’s okay.”

Lewis grins, clapping him on the shoulder. “Of course it is, man. Always good company on a long flight. Come on in.”

You exchange a quick glance with Kimi — relief flickering between you both — before settling into the plush cream seats.

Once you’re airborne, things ease up. The tension melts into quiet laughter and casual conversation as the jet hums through the clouds.

Lewis stretches out across from you, hoodie on, hair tied back, scrolling through his phone while the flight attendant brings a tray of his favorite vegan snacks — kale chips, hummus, fruit, and something that vaguely looks like brownies but smells suspiciously like lentils.

He looks up with a grin. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Kimi eyes the tray skeptically but takes a chip anyway. “This is… actually good,” he admits after a beat.

Lewis looks smug. “Told you. You young guys always think vegan means boring.”

You laugh softly. “I think he’s officially converted, Dad.”

They end up talking about racing for a while — setups, travel schedules, training. You watch from your seat, quietly proud. Kimi’s calm, respectful, even charming. Lewis clearly likes him — which somehow makes this both better and much worse.

After a while, you dig out a deck of cards from your tote bag. “Okay, since we’re trapped in the sky for ten hours, I propose a distraction.”

Lewis grins. “Cards? You know what happens when I play games.”

“You cheat,” you shoot back.

He feigns offense. “I strategize.”

Kimi laughs quietly. “That’s what all cheaters say.”

“Excuse me?” Lewis raises an eyebrow, amused. “You talking smack already, rookie?”

Kimi shrugs, the hint of a grin playing at his lips. “Just facts.”

And that’s how you end up playing Uno at 30,000 feet — your dad, the seven-time world champion, pretending to be calm while Kimi absolutely destroys him with back-to-back +4 cards.

Lewis groans. “I swear this game is rigged.”

“You said that last time,” you say through laughter.

“That’s because it was!”

Kimi tries (and fails) to hide his smirk, and you reach over under the table to nudge his knee gently. He glances at you — that small, secret smile you both know so well.

By the time dessert arrives — fresh fruit and dark chocolate — Lewis is half-asleep, reclining in his seat with a blanket thrown over him and his headphones on. The hum of the jet fills the quiet.

You and Kimi exchange a look, shoulders brushing as you sit close.

“See?” you whisper. “Not so bad.”

He exhales softly, smiling. “I almost had a heart attack when he saw me.”

You laugh under your breath. “You were perfect. He didn’t suspect a thing.”

Kimi leans his head back, eyes half-closed. “Maybe I’m getting good at this secret relationship thing.”

You grin. “Oh, you think?”

He turns his head toward you, voice low and teasing. “Maybe I just have a good teacher.”

You nudge him again, but the smile that breaks across your face is impossible to hide. Outside, the clouds stretch endlessly, the horizon painted gold and pink.

You lean your head on his shoulder, letting the rhythm of the engines lull you both. Between the laughter, the adrenaline, and the thrill of nearly getting caught, it hits you again — this weird, wonderful, dangerous love that somehow still feels like the safest place in the world.

࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆

ynhamilton

liked by lewishamilton, sebastianvettel, isackhadjar, alexandrasaintmleux and 3,405,000 others.

ynhamilton : greetings from sao paulo 💛💚💙⭐

tagged : sebastianvettel and lewishamilton

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lewishamilton : My beautiful girl🌟

liked by ynhamilton

alexandrasaintmleux : you are so stunning🤩

liked by ynhamilton

sebastianvettel : So happy to see my beautiful goddaughter! 💛💚💙

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isackhadjar : mystery man is also coincidentally among us...

liked by ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : IMPOSTER

liked by isackhadjar

kimi.antonelli : ⭐⭐

liked by ynhamilton

࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆

f1gossipgirls

liked by isackhadjar, olliebearman and 45,000 others.

f1gossipgirls : Mercedes rookie Kimi Antonelli spotted arriving in São Paulo today in full custom Dior — fans are noticing the 19-year-old’s style evolution since joining the team. From paddock casuals to full designer fits, it seems someone’s been giving him a very fashionable upgrade 👀🖤.

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username007 : custom. dior. at. 19.?? oh he’s not playing around anymore 😭

username60 : he definitely got a stylist orrrr… a certain designer friend maybe 👀

liked by isackhadjar and olliebearman

username78 : funny how this glow up started right around the same time YN Hamilton started working with Dior 😌 coincidence??

username100 : he looks so confident lately and i love it 🥹🖤

username146 : imagine if YN is styling him??? that would be the crossover of the year 😭😭

↳ username50 : imagine she is dating and styling him😭

࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆

It’s the softest morning in Brazil — sunlight spilling through the sheer curtains of your penthouse suite, warm and golden, the city humming below like a heartbeat. Kimi’s sitting on the edge of your bed, hair still damp from his shower, eyes sleepy and content while you move around the room with a purpose only you have when it comes to fashion.

Bolts of fabric, garment bags, and open sketchbooks fill the space — your creative chaos — and Kimi’s been caught right in the middle of it.

He’s in loose sweatpants and a white tank top, watching you pull a freshly steamed outfit off a rack. “Is that… for me?” he asks, eyes flicking between the clothes and your focused expression.

You smile without looking up. “Mm-hmm. Custom. Handmade by yours truly,” you hum, smoothing the front of the jacket. It’s a cream tailored set with soft blue detailing — minimalistic, clean, but effortlessly elegant. “You’re wearing it for quali today.”

Kimi blinks, a little wide-eyed. “You made this?”

You nod proudly, setting it against his shoulders to check the fit. “Of course. You have to look like the next Mercedes star, don’t you?”

His cheeks flush the faintest pink. “I’d rather look like your favorite project.”

You freeze for a second, your heart doing that dizzying thing it always does around him. “You already are,” you say softly, and he smiles like you’ve given him the world.

He changes into the outfit while you finish your hair in the mirror. When he steps out of the bathroom, you pause mid-motion — he looks insane. The tailored Dior fits him perfectly, sharp yet soft, every detail reflecting your touch.

Kimi catches your stare, pretending to brush imaginary dust off his lapel. “You’re staring.”

“I designed you,” you tease, walking over to fix his collar. “Of course I’m staring.”

He leans down slightly, his voice low. “Then keep staring, yeah?”

You laugh, pushing him away before you melt right there. “You have to head to the track before me. Go make Lewis proud.”

He grins, slipping on his sunglasses and kissing your forehead. “And you. Always you.”

A few hours later, the paddock in São Paulo is alive — humidity clinging to the air, fans shouting, engines roaring in the background. Kimi walks through the paddock gates like he’s stepped off a magazine cover, and the cameras eat it up.

Later in the paddock, Lewis spots him.

“Hey, Kimi! You’re really stepping up the fits lately,” Lewis says, grinning as he pats his shoulder. “Is that custom?”

Kimi feels his ears go pink but nods. “Yeah. Custom.”

Lewis smirks, clearly impressed. “Well, whoever’s making those for you has a serious eye. You look good, man.”

Kimi just hums shyly, trying to act casual while you, who just arrived separately, walked into the paddock across the way in your own perfectly tailored cream two-piece. Your eyes meet for half a second — just long enough to make both of you smile.

Unfortunately, that tiny slip doesn’t go unnoticed.

After quali briefing, Kimi’s heading out of hospitality when he hears Isack Hadjar’s voice.

“Antonelli,” Isack calls out, strolling over with Gabriel Bortoleto and Ollie Bearman trailing behind. “Who’s that you were walking out with just now? Looked a lot like YN Hamilton.”

Kimi freezes for a beat too long.

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “Oh, come on, don’t tell us Mercedes PR is pairing you two for photoshoots now too?”

Kimi just shrugs, trying to keep a straight face. “She’s… a friend.”

Isack smirks. “A friend who happens to make you custom Dior suits?”

“Shut up,” Kimi mutters, but there’s no venom. He’s smiling, just a little.

Ollie groans dramatically. “You’re so bad at lying, mate. Like, impressively bad.”

Kimi laughs, brushing past them toward the garage. “Go away. You guys have too much time on your hands.”

You’re in the viewing area with Sebastian Vettel — your godfather, your second-favorite person after your dad — who’s happily munching on a piece of vegan banana bread as you both watch the timing screens.

Kimi crosses the line, improving his lap time, and you light up.

“Come on, Kimi!” you whisper under your breath, hands clasped together like you’re praying.

Seb catches it, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “You seem… particularly invested in this one,” he says, tone teasing but kind.

You glance at him, cheeks warm. “He’s a good driver. I just want him to do well.”

“Mhm.” Sebastian smiles knowingly but doesn’t press. “He’s lucky to have someone in his corner.”

Kimi ends up qualifying P4 and you’re beaming, practically bouncing in your seat while the team celebrates below.

Later that evening, the paddock is quieting down, journalists long gone, the sky painted in pink and orange hues. You find a quiet corner behind the garages, away from the noise, where Kimi’s waiting for you.

He doesn’t say anything — just steps forward and pulls you into his arms.

“You were amazing today,” you whisper against his chest.

“So were you,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your jaw before he kisses you softly. It’s sweet and slow and familiar — your favorite kind.

Except… you don’t notice the figure walking past until it’s too late.

Sebastian freezes mid-step, eyes widening slightly as he spots the two of you. You practically leap back, face flaming. “Oh my god—Seb! I—”

He raises his hands quickly, smiling gently. “Relax, liebe. I didn’t see anything.”

“Seb—”

“I said I didn’t see anything,” he repeats, amusement tugging at his lips. “Though… I will say he’s got good taste.”

You groan, covering your face as Kimi chuckles quietly beside you.

Seb pats your shoulder, still grinning. “Your father would not be ready for this conversation yet. Let’s… keep this between us, hmm?”

You nod quickly, heart pounding. “Thank you.”

He just winks. “Don’t thank me yet. You owe me a coffee tomorrow morning. I like mine with oat milk.”

And with that, he walks off, humming, leaving you and Kimi staring at each other in disbelief before breaking into matching laughter.

Kimi presses a kiss to your forehead again. “Well,” he says softly, “at least if someone had to find out, I’m glad it was him.”

You laugh, leaning into him as the lights of São Paulo twinkle in the distance. “Me too.”

࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆

It’s race day in São Paulo — one of those Brazilian mornings that feels alive, sunlight streaming through misty air, samba beats echoing faintly from somewhere outside the paddock gates. You wake up to the smell of espresso and Kimi humming quietly, already dressed in one of the custom fits you made for him — cream trousers, a pale blue shirt, and the matching jacket with subtle embroidery only someone who paid attention would notice.

“Turn around,” you say, rubbing your eyes and standing on your toes to straighten his collar.

He obeys immediately, smiling softly. “You don’t have to keep fixing me every morning.”

“Yes, I do,” you murmur, smoothing the fabric over his shoulders. “You’re my walking portfolio.”

Kimi laughs, low and sweet. “I thought I was your boyfriend.”

“You’re both,” you reply, pretending to adjust a button just to stall the inevitable — the part where he has to leave first, separately, like you’re strangers. He kisses your forehead before heading to the paddock, and when the door shuts behind him, you sigh, heart already skipping ahead to the afternoon.

By the time you arrive at the track — separately, of course — the atmosphere is electric. Fans wave flags, chanting, cameras flashing from every direction. You slip into the Ferrari suite quietly, a sleek pair of black sunglasses hiding your face, and head straight for your favorite seat.

Lewis is already there, deep in conversation with Charles, his posture relaxed but commanding as always. He spots you, instantly grinning. “There’s my girl!”

“Hey, Dad,” you smile, hugging him tight. The familiarity still warms you; it doesn’t matter how many countries or years go by — he’s always home.

“You excited for the race?” he asks, taking a sip of his coconut water.

“Of course,” you reply, trying to sound casual even though your heart’s already pounding for entirely different reasons.

Later on, Sebastian drops into the seat beside you, wearing a bucket hat and that faint smirk that means he knows everything.

“Morning, Lieblingsmädchen,” he greets. “Nervous?”

“Just excited,” you say quickly.

“Mhm,” he hums, clearly unconvinced.

When the lights go out, you forget everything else. You’re on your feet half the time, hands clasped, voice hoarse from cheering. Every overtake Kimi makes has you biting your lip, bouncing slightly in your seat. Sebastian keeps glancing at you, amused, but doesn’t say a word.

And when Kimi crosses the line in third, your whole body lights up — your smile blinding, your heart pounding like you’ve just won the championship yourself.

“YES!” you practically shout, throwing your arms up. “LET’S GO, KIMI!”

Fred turns toward you, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. “Someone’s a big Kimi fan, huh?”

You freeze for half a second but recover with a laugh. “He’s the rookie underdog! Everyone’s rooting for him!”

Fred chuckles. “Fair. He did really well. You should tell him yourself later.”

Seb hides a smirk behind his hand.

After the podium, you sneak down to the hospitality area. The paddock is buzzing — flashes everywhere, champagne on Kimi’s hair, that boyish grin on his face as he poses with his trophy.

When he catches sight of you across the crowd, his whole face softens — just for a second — before he looks away quickly.

You find him later, tucked away behind one of the Mercedes motorhomes, still in his race suit, holding his jacket. “You were incredible,” you whisper, grinning up at him.

He smiles, tired but happy. “All for you.”

“I feel so special,” you reply, and he leans down to kiss you, quick and quiet, the world still buzzing somewhere out of sight.

He pulls back, setting the jacket over your shoulders as he gets called away for media. “Keep that for me?”

You nod, heart full. “Always.”

Hours later, you’re back upstairs in hospitality with Lewis, waiting for the team to finish debriefs before heading to the airport. He’s laughing about something Fred said when he notices a jacket draped over the back of your chair.

“Whose is that?” he asks, curious.

You glance at it too quickly. “Oh, just—someone from the team left it here, I think.”

Lewis picks it up, running his fingers over the embroidery. “Dior, huh? Custom-made. That’s clean work.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, hoping he’ll drop it.

He flips the inner tag to check the lining — something he always does, because he loves quality stitching — and there, delicately sewn in gold thread, are the words:

Made for K.A. — YN Hamilton Atelier.

You feel your stomach drop.

Lewis pauses, eyebrows rising. “YN Hamilton Atelier?”

You laugh nervously. “Oh! I… prototype. Just practicing embroidery, you know?”

Lewis tilts his head, amused but sharp. “Practicing… on the rookie’s jacket?”

You freeze again. He studies you for a long moment, then smiles — that mischievous, too-smart smile that means he’s not going to press it. Not yet.

“Alright,” he says lightly, tossing the jacket back onto the chair. “You know, if you are designing for Kimi, you should tell the team. He’s never looked better.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you manage, your heart racing so fast you can barely breathe.

As he turns back toward the window, chatting casually about dinner plans, you glance across the paddock — and there’s Kimi, waving briefly as he heads toward the garage.

You can’t help it. You smile.

And somewhere behind his sunglasses, Lewis Hamilton hides his own little grin, muttering under his breath, “K.A., huh? …We’ll talk about that later.”

࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆

several weeks later…

f1gossipgirls

670,000 likes.

f1gossipgirls : F1 meets fashion! Half the grid arrived in Paris tonight for YN Hamilton’s Dior collection unveiling — the 20-year-old designer debuted her first solo capsule collection, and the guest list was nothing short of iconic.

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It’s the morning of your biggest day yet — the debut of your Dior collection in Paris — and your nerves feel like champagne bubbles under your skin. The whole city hums outside your penthouse windows, but inside, you’re pacing around barefoot in one of your robes, phone clutched in your hand, running through your mental checklist for the millionth time.

Swatches, check. Model lineup, check. Final adjustments, check. Breathing? …not so much.

Kimi’s sitting on the couch, still in sweats, watching you with a fond little smile. “You’ve walked around the room like twelve times,” he says gently.

You stop, blinking. “Have I?”

He nods. “And you’ve said ‘I’m fine’ fourteen times.”

You shoot him a look, trying not to smile. “Well, maybe I’m trying to convince myself.”

Kimi laughs softly and stands, crossing the room to pull you into his chest. His hands find your waist, grounding you instantly. “You’ve been working on this for months, amore. You’ve checked every stitch twice.”

“I know, but—”

He leans down, brushing his nose against yours. “No buts. You’re ready. Dior is lucky to have you.”

Your heart melts at the sincerity in his voice. You let yourself relax against him, breathing in the scent of his cologne and calm steadiness. “You’re too good to me.”

“I just tell the truth,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead.

Hours later, backstage at the venue, the chaos has begun. Stylists and models bustle everywhere — racks of clothing, trays of jewelry, the hum of hairdryers, and the rhythmic click of heels on marble floors. You’re in the middle of it all, headset on, clipboard in hand, somehow managing to give instructions, fix a loose hem, and check lighting notes all at once.

Every time you start to spiral, though, you feel a familiar presence — Kimi, leaning casually against a rack of garments in his all-black Dior sweats, hands in pockets, calm as ever. He’s already had his fitting — you’d asked him to walk weeks ago, but it’s been kept completely secret from everyone but your inner team.

You glance up at him between tasks and smile. “You look way too relaxed for someone about to walk a runway.”

He shrugs, that small, boyish grin tugging at his lips. “I’m not the one unveiling a whole collection to the world.”

You point your pen at him. “Don’t remind me.”

He steps closer, lowering his voice. “Then remember this instead — whatever happens out there, I’m proud of you.”

The words stick in your chest like sunlight.

Minutes before the show, a small commotion ripples through backstage as two familiar faces step in — your mum, Nicole, looking radiant in a sleek black Dior gown, and your dad, Lewis, in a tailored grey suit and his signature soft smile.

“Baby girl,” Lewis says, arms open. “You ready?”

You nod, trying to keep your voice from shaking as you hug him tight. “I think so.”

Nicole joins in, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve worked for this your whole life, sweetheart. Just breathe. And enjoy it.”

Lewis squeezes your shoulders. “We’ll be out there cheering louder than anyone. You’ve got this.”

You grin through misty eyes. “Thank you both. For… everything.”

Lewis tilts his head, beaming. “We’re so proud of you, YN. No matter what.”

When they step out to find their seats in the front row — alongside half the grid, it seems — you finally find yourself alone with your team and your models. Your stomach flutters. The Dior show director gives you a small nod. “You’ll speak first?”

You nod, microphone trembling slightly in your hand. As the lights dim and the audience quiets, you step into the spotlight.

“Bonsoir,” you begin, your voice steady despite the adrenaline. “Thank you all for being here tonight. This collection represents everything I’ve learned so far — about growth, about courage, and about creating something that feels true.” You pause, taking a breath. “Fashion, for me, has always been about storytelling. Tonight, I hope you see a little piece of mine.”

The applause is warm, genuine — you even spot Lewis smiling proudly from the crowd, next to Nicole, George and Carmen, Charles and Alexandra, Seb, and so many familiar faces.

Then the music swells. The first model walks.

And the show begins.

It’s perfect. Every piece flows into the next like a melody — soft tailoring, structured details, the blend of power and delicacy that defines your touch. The crowd watches in awe as light glimmers across metallic silks and embroidered mesh.

But then — a collective ripple of surprise moves through the room.

Kimi steps out.

No one saw it coming. He’s in the final menswear look — an immaculate dove-grey suit with sharp lapels and intricate blue threadwork, just subtle enough to look effortless, just bold enough to command the room. The lighting hits him perfectly, his expression calm and confident as he strides down the runway like he’s done it all his life.

The crowd erupts. You hear murmurs of his name, cameras flashing wildly, even Lewis leaning forward slightly with a grin of disbelief.

When the show ends, the applause is deafening. You step out for your designer’s walk, heart pounding, and bow with your team — and then suddenly Kimi’s there beside you, taking your hand briefly as the crowd rises for a standing ovation.

Backstage after, everything is a blur of hugs, laughter, champagne, and flash photography. Designers and editors flood the space, congratulating you; Lewis and Nicole are first through the crowd.

Lewis hugs you so tightly you can barely breathe. “You killed it, baby girl! That was unbelievable.”

Nicole beams. “The craftsmanship, the detail — it was stunning, YN.”

Charles and Alexandra join in, Alexandra gushing over your color palettes; George and Carmen are taking photos for their story; even Seb appears in his eco-friendly suit, giving you a quiet high-five.

And then, finally, Kimi appears again — hair slightly tousled from the show, the top button of his shirt undone, his eyes only on you.

Without thinking, you run into his arms. He lifts you slightly, spinning you once in that quiet corner away from the crowd.

“You did it,” he murmurs, still holding you.

“We did it,” you correct softly, smiling up at him.

The two of you stay there a moment longer — hidden but glowing — before the chaos of congratulations swirls around you again.

When you finally glance across the room, you catch Lewis watching the two of you from afar, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile. He doesn’t say a word. Not yet. But the twinkle in his eyes says it all: he’s figured it out.

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You were still buzzing from the adrenaline of the show — the music, the lights, the applause. Everyone was hugging you, congratulating you, snapping pictures of you and the models. Your phone wouldn’t stop vibrating, and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

Kimi had disappeared for a bit after the runway ended, but when he reappeared in his fitted Dior suit, hair a little messy and smile tugging at his lips, your whole world softened. He reached for you before saying a word — arms sliding around your waist, holding you tight.

“You did amazing,” he murmured against your hair. “So proud of you.”

You pulled back just enough to grin up at him, eyes still sparkling. “You too, runway star.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Never doing that again,” he teased, though you could tell he secretly enjoyed it — the way everyone gasped when they realized he was walking, the quiet thrill of being part of your world for once.

You were still standing there, wrapped up in each other’s little moment, when Lewis’ voice cut through the hum of conversation.

“Well, well, well.”

You both froze.

He was leaning against the backstage door frame, a knowing smirk spreading across his face, arms folded like a man who’d just caught his kids sneaking cookies before dinner. Nicole was beside him, hiding a laugh behind her hand.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Lewis said, taking a few steps closer. “Go on. Hug it out. Whisper some sweet nothings. Pretend I’m not here.”

You immediately groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god, Dad—”

Kimi looked like he’d rather evaporate into thin air, cheeks redder than your Dior lipstick. “Mr. Hamilton—”

“Oh, don’t you ‘Mr. Hamilton’ me,” Lewis interrupted, laughing. “I knew something was going on. You two have been acting like you’re in a rom-com for weeks. The glances? The smiles? The fact that you were both conveniently in Paris at the same time?” He shook his head, clearly amused. “You’re not slick, sunshine.”

Nicole smirked. “He’s been waiting to say that all night.”

You let out a nervous laugh, sneaking a look at Kimi. “So… you’re not mad?”

Lewis rolled his eyes affectionately. “Mad? Nah. You’re grown, baby girl. You make your own choices. And if it’s this guy…” He turned to Kimi, giving him the once-over. “Then he better keep treating you right.”

Kimi straightened up immediately, hands behind his back like he was facing a royal inspection. “Of course. Always.”

Lewis grinned, clearly satisfied with the answer. Then he slung an arm around both of your shoulders, pulling you into a group hug. “Alright, alright. You’ve officially been outed. Now let’s get some champagne — my daughter just killed it at Dior, and apparently she’s also dating a runway model.”

You and Kimi both groaned, laughing into each other’s shoulders as Lewis led the way toward the afterparty.

Nicole lingered for a moment, giving you a soft smile. “He really did already know, sweetheart,” she whispered. “He’s just been waiting for you to tell him.”

You exhaled, feeling the last of your nerves melt away. “Figures.”

And when you and Kimi finally caught up to Lewis, he was already at the bar, raising a glass with that wide, proud grin of his.

“To my daughter,” he said, “and to the boy brave enough to date her.”

Everyone around you laughed, the music swelled, and for the first time in weeks, you felt completely, beautifully at peace.

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kimi.antonelli

liked by lewishamilton, ynhamilton, olliebearman and 3,756,000 others.

kimi.antonelli : yes, my gf dresses me <3

tagged : ynhamilton

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bonus : father in law lewis!

Lewis had been shockingly chill about the whole thing — borderline smug, even. Every time a reporter hinted at Kimi’s “fashion evolution,” Lewis would smirk and say something like, “Yeah, my daughter’s been a good influence on him.”

And now, the three of you were strolling through the Paris streets — the sun golden, the air crisp, and your father absolutely insufferable with how proud he was.

“Alright,” Lewis said, pulling on his sunglasses. “You two better have your credit cards ready, because I’m not paying if you both start raiding Burberry again.”

“Dad,” you groaned, laughing, “you literally have a partnership with them.”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning. “Doesn’t mean I want my daughter bankrupting me through my own collab.”

Kimi was quietly amused, walking between you and Lewis with that soft, reserved smile of his — the one that always betrayed how content he really was. Every once in a while, you’d reach for his hand, and Lewis would pretend not to notice… but he’d smirk to himself anyway.

At one point, you stopped in front of a vintage boutique — racks of old leather jackets and limited-edition sneakers on display. Lewis’ eyes lit up instantly.

“Ohhh,” he said, pulling you both inside. “This is dangerous.”

Within minutes, you were buried in racks of clothes, Lewis was deep in conversation with the store owner about fabric aging, and Kimi — quiet, polite, observant — was trying on a jacket that looked straight out of a 90s racing movie.

You turned just in time to see your dad’s jaw drop.

“Hold on,” Lewis said, snapping a picture. “Look at this boy. He’s out-styling me.”

Kimi laughed softly, shaking his head. “She taught me well.”

That made Lewis pause — and then smile, warm and genuine. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, she did.”

Later, the three of you grabbed coffee at a little café tucked down a quiet side street. You sat between them, watching them talk about cars, training, fashion, travel — like they’d known each other for years. Lewis was teasing him one second (“You ever let her drive your car?”), and then praising him the next (“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, man.”).

Kimi met his eyes with quiet sincerity. “I really care about her, Mr. Hamilton.”

Lewis smiled — that same soft, protective look he’d always had when it came to you. “I know, Kimi. And for the record… you can drop the ‘Mr.’ part. Makes me sound old.”

You laughed, leaning into Kimi’s shoulder. “He is old.”

Lewis gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? I’m timeless.”

“Sure, Dad,” you teased. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh but couldn’t stop smiling as he looked at the two of you — his daughter glowing, her boyfriend calm and kind beside her, both of you impossibly happy.

“You know,” he said finally, “I wasn’t sure how this would go at first. But seeing you two like this… I get it. You balance each other out. I like that.”

You felt Kimi squeeze your hand beneath the table, a quiet promise written in the gesture.

By the time you all left the café, the sky was streaked with soft pinks and golds. Lewis wrapped an arm around your shoulders, Kimi’s hand brushed yours as you walked, and laughter spilled between you as the city buzzed softly around you.

Your dad turned back once more, grin wide. “Alright, lovebirds. Who’s ready to hit one more store?”

You and Kimi groaned in unison, which only made him laugh harder.

And somewhere between the laughter, the teasing, and the clinking of coffee cups — you realized this was exactly how you wanted life to feel.

Warm. Easy. Home.

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