I Know You Have But Can You Tell More About The Brothers Teaching Her How To Drivers Or The Paddock Bunnies

ohne leuchtturm

➝ request: could you write something angsty where the reader and toto had a previous relationship but broke up/divorced due to him never being home and then one night [...] they encounter each other at a bar in her hometown

➝ word count: 2,3k

➝ warnings: alcohol consumption, angst and sad toto

➝ author’s note: well, is like miley says, "nothing breaks like a heart".

Sitting alone in a corner of the Esterházykeller, you were sipping a pint of beer without much interest. You probably looked ridiculous, being alone at a bar, but you didn’t care. Your mind was not with you as you sat inside that stuffy pub in the heart of Vienna.

You were thinking of the night you first visited that bar, so many years ago.

It was one of those hot and rainy summers in the city, perfect for staying at home, reading a book, or cooking yourself dinner. It was your favorite way to get your mind off of the constant grind of numbers and figures you dealt with at your day job.

However, some colleagues convinced you to go out for a night instead of spending another quiet evening at home. They’d picked one of the oldest bars in the city, and you decided that it wouldn’t hurt to get out for the night. 

"How naive", you thought to yourself, taking a sip of beer.

You remember it being very warm outside that night, years ago, and the rain had made it humid, and it was even warmer in the crowded bar.The fans scattered across the ceiling of the establishment did little to cool the place. Loud conversation mingled with laughter and the sound of mugs clinking and cutlery scraping on plates. As you followed Fritz and Lena around the bar, you started to wonder if that was a good idea, especially after someone that almost knocked you over with their elbow, sloshing the mug of beer you had in your hand. 

You caught yourself and turned around, catching sight of the tall man that was now responsible for the front of your blouse being soaked with icy liquid. Irritated, you were about to say something unkind to him when your eyes met his. As he apologized, you felt like the lively pub around you had gone silent, and all you could hear was the sound of your heart beating in your chest.

— Would you like another beer?

You sighed as your attention turned back to the present. Ten years later, you were sitting in the same bar, with the same beer, and the same tall man standing in front of you. 

— Toto?

— Good evening, Y/N — he said, with a small smile.

— What are you doing here? — you asked, dryly. You weren’t sure you actually cared.

— I'm visiting the children — he replied, hesitating for a few seconds — Well, visiting Rosi. She's in university now.

— Studying Biotechnology, right?

— Yes. And English literature.

You smiled.

— What about Ben?

— He’s in California, studying business.

— Is he preparing to be your successor?

He laughed.

— Definitely not, and you know that.

Of course you did.

After your first disastrous interaction, Toto made sure to make up for the embarrassment he’d caused you by ordering your another pint of beer, as well as a ride back to your flat. The initial kindness turned into an exchange of phone numbers. A few phone calls later, you met up with him again, in the exact same bar.

Before you realized it, you’d fallen completely in love with his wide smile, his deep voice, and his brown eyes, especially the way they showed so much emotion. Toto was the one, the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

Your companion. Your partner. Your love.

Until he wasn't anymore.

— How are you? — he asked, sitting down in the seat across the booth from you. 

— I'm fine — you murmured, looking down at your beer mug.

— Still working at the bank?

— Yes, still at the bank. And you, still flying around?

Toto smiled sadly.

— Yes, still flying around.

You weren’t sure what to say. Looking down at your half-empty mug of beer, an ache came to your chest.  “Why would I expect him to have changed?”, you thought, pursing your lips.

You weren’t some naive little girl. You knew from the time you first met him that Toto was a busy man with a demanding job that entailed more days traveling than not, flying all around the world, working on the project that he’d said was “the most important of my life”. You accepted it initially, without hesitation, choosing to accompany him, traveling with the team to races around the world. It was worth it for you to give him your support, and more importantly, your love.

However, at some point, how you felt about the F1 circus changed, and how you felt about his team changed. You no longer felt like they were a family that had taken you in, but your competition for the attention of the man you loved, and dedicated so much to.

It was a fight that you knew you were going to lose, but you insisted on fighting anyway.

— Did you expect another answer? — Toto asked quietly, making you look up at him.

— Honestly? — you shot back, your eyes returning to the whitish foam in the mug — No.

You’d never been good at lying. 

— I thought you’d have gotten better at lying  since we broke up, Y/N.

— I'm not lying.

— Yes you are. I know this because you never look me in the eye when you lie to me.

— It’s very presumptuous of you to assume that you know whether I’m lying or not, Torger — you replied, your voice filled with more acid than you’d intended.  However, that only made Toto smile.

— You really haven't changed at all, Y/N — he muttered, before signaling to a passing waiter and ordering two more pints of beer.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between you. As much as the bar was crowded and stuffy, you felt an uncomfortable shiver run through your body. You felt transparent, like Toto could read you like a book that he casually picked off of a shelf after years of being placed there. You felt like, even years later, he knew every word and every paragraph of you. 

When the waiter brought out the fresh glasses of beer, Toto thanked him before taking a long sip. As he set his mug down, he had a little foam on his upper lips, which made you smile.

— You’ve got something there — you muttered, pointing to your mouth.

— Oh yeah — he said, wiping his mouth — Thanks. At least now you can say that you've seen me with a mustache.

— A rare sight, considering you're incapable of growing a beard.

— I'm not incapable, I just don't like it — Toto answered — And you know that.

— I think you should try it again. It could make you look more handsome.

He smirked.

— You mean you still think I'm handsome?

— If I didn't, I wouldn't have stayed with you for six years, would I?

— You could have stayed with me for my personality.

— No — you said, taking a sip of beer.

— Or my performance in bed — he said quietly, a smirk on his lips.

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip. You could deny it, but it was pointless, especially when Toto knew you so well. You had stayed with him for his handsome features, and for his kind, thoughtful personality, but it was the way he made you feel in bed that made you stay long after your relationship had become torture.

Toto knew your body like no one else. He knew how and where to touch you, to kiss you, to make you feel like you’d gone to heaven. He knew what every little sound, every whisper and gasp meant from you, he knew all of your little quirks. He always knew exactly when you were about to climax, because of the way you would dig your nails into his shoulder, and he used this knowledge to incredible effect.

And then, he became hell.

There was more silence at the table, the two of you staring at each other, searching for the right words for that moment.

— You still haven't told me the truth.

— About what?

— If you expected me to give another answer about my work.

You sighed.

— Yes, Toto, I expected another answer.

— Did you expect me to step away from Mercedes? 

— I was hoping you realized you could be — you hesitated, the word stuck in your throat. You wanted to say, you needed to say it. But after four years, it no longer made sense. He had moved on, just as you had moved on. However, you couldn't help but look back.

— Could be what?

— Using your time better — you finally said, looking back down at your mug, which was already nearly empty. Toto smiled sadly at you again.

— You still think Mercedes is a waste of time, don't you? — he asked.

— I just wish you could have been content with sticking to one role — you shot back.

— You know that…

— I know, I know, that you were never one to sit in an office — you interrupted  — I know. I was your partner for six years and I know how restless you get. But as much as I admire that about you, I abhor it, because that's precisely what robs people of you when they need you.

— Do you think the team takes me away from other people?

— No. You do it yourself — you replied emphatically.

Toto looked at his mug thoughtfully. The conversation had veered into dangerous territory for both of you. It had been painful to realize after a long time that you always put your relationship with Toto first, but you weren’t his priority. Even years after the painful end of your relationship, you still felt like it was a wound that was open and bleeding.

After all, you still loved him.

You loved his dimple-framed smile, his deep brown eyes, and his unkempt hair. You loved his voice, the way his accent danced with his words, and you loved his laugh. You loved his bad jokes, his witty observations and his far-fetched ideas.

You loved him.

— Can I ask you something? — he murmured, his eyes still fixed on the mug.

— Yeah?

— Would you be able to ever forgive me, Y/N? — Toto said, raising his eyes to look into yours

— For what?

— For taking myself away from you?

You felt your heart pounding again.

You had waited a long time for those words, almost an eternity. But now, you got no satisfaction out of hearing it — it only made you more sad.

— I don't think apologizing to me is the way to go.

— Isn't an apology what you wanted to hear, Y/N?  — he asked.

— Maybe, but what's the point now? — you said, feeling your throat tighten.

— But, I want to fix things...

— You're four years late, Torger — you said, cutting him off. You felt your eyes start to sting at the realization that it was too little, too late. The conversation you were having with him, calm and civil as it was, needed to have taken place on the warm summer night that your relationship imploded, but neither of you were ready to have this conversation back then, or at any time in the last four years. You weren’t sure you were ready now.

— Y/N…

— We should have sat down a long time ago and defined what we wanted from each other, and from our relationship. We should have been more mature and more rational instead of yelling at each other over everything. But, if you ask me, I'm sure even if we had talked, it would have ended in the same way — you said, trying to keep your voice even as you held back the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You didn't want to cry, but at the same time, it was like your heart was begging you to let out all the pain you've been carrying since the day you left Toto's apartment, never to return.

He stared at you for long seconds, before drinking what was left of beer in the mug.

— We would have been married if we'd talked.

— I couldn’t marry someone who is already married to their work — you snapped.

— It’s not too late for a divorce…

You laughed.

— You would never give up the team, Toto.

— For you, I would — he said, making your stomach churn — For you, I'd give up the team, all of the travel, the busy schedule. I would give up the houses in England, Switzerland, and Monaco. I’d go back on my decision to not have any more children and give you as many as you wanted to have. I would give up everything for your love.

A tear trickled down your face. You quickly wiped it away, trying to bring yourself back to the present. That was hypothetical, not real. You would never get back together, it was a fact. But knowing that Toto would be capable of all that made your heart beat faster.

Maybe your love didn't go away, but was just buried under so many years of sadness and frustration. Maybe it was still inside you, hibernating, waiting for the time when the winter between you would come to an end and the spring flowers would finally bloom. Maybe he just needed that conversation.

Grabbing your bag, you got up from the table, your face fixed in a serious expression. 

— Are you leaving?

— I don't want to be out too late.

— Do you want a ride?

— No… no, I’m fine. — you replied, while looking for your wallet — How many beers have you had? I wouldn’t get into a car with you.

Toto smiled.

— I suppose that’s fair.

After placing a twenty Euro note on the dark wood of the table, you were about to turn towards the stairs leading outside when you felt his hand close gently around your wrist.

— Y/N.

— Yeah?

— If you still want this… I still want this.

Giving you a pained little smile, you could only say one thing.

— Goodbye, Torger.

George's big and veiny hands twirling with the little strings of your bikini as you are completely alone on the yacht

here me out on this. George's hands covering your pussy because paparazzi are near <eye emoji bc I cant find it atm>

New Year’s Day

Greg House x Reader

A/N: you know when people say something is a shot of dopamine? yeah, this is the opposite.

TW: house going through withdrawals, you taking care of him. you can figure out what that entails. fluffy ending, if you can call it that. hurt/comfort for all my fellow enthusiasts.

“Don’t read the last page.”

You’d been on a date when he called. Stupidly, foolishly. As if you didn’t know it’d never work. As if you didn’t know he’d haunt you the whole time, a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminding you the man you sat across from would never be him. Mocking you, ridiculing you as you make polite conversation in a nice dress.

You really shouldn’t be into that. Despite that truth, you don’t dwell on the fact, there’s more important things to focus on right now. Like his weak, gravelly voice sounding from the other end of the phone as you stand outside the restaurant.

“I need you.” He sounds desperate. You’d be satisfied at the sound under any other circumstance, the tone so rarely heard from him. Instead it just makes your heart clench in your chest, your face fall in a look of heartbreak you wouldn’t have thought you could muster.

“I’ll be there soon.” The words fall out of your mouth as quickly as the twitch of a muscle, the thought going into them imperceivable to even yourself. Of course you’ll show, it’s House, after all. The second his voice hit your ears you didn’t have a fighting chance of saying no. He needs you, there’s no denying him.

You rush back into the restaurant, scrambling to pull a twenty from your wallet and sliding it onto the table, giving a haphazard explanation for your sudden departure.

“No, it’s not you.”

“No, you didn’t upset me.”

Fuck’s sake, this is annoying. His voice is pathetically hopeful as he calls after you. “Call me?” He asks, his eyebrows knitted upwards, his eyes glittering with something like awe. You pin it as lust.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Your lie was about as convincing as a kid elbow deep in the cookie jar, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You were never gonna do it anyway, even before House called.

You walk out of the restaurant, weaving between waiters and bidding apologies you don’t really mean to the people you bump into. Your heart is hammering in your chest harder than it should be, you know what’s going on, even if the absolute agony in his voice scared you.

He’d been particularly on edge all day, an iron grip on his leg that’s only there when the pain is especially bad. Add an ever present sheen of sweat and the painfully obvious dark bags under his eyes, it wasn’t too hard to figure out from there.

He was withdrawing. Why he decided to up and quit you don’t know, but you suppose it doesn’t really matter now. He’s trying, that’s good enough for you. Good enough to keep holding onto the ridiculous hope he can actually change.

You white knuckle it the whole drive to his apartment, praying you don’t pass by a cop as you push down on the accelerator harder and harder, zipping through side streets far faster than you should. It’s stupid, you know. It’d be better to show up a few minutes later than the next morning with a new addition to your criminal record, but you can’t help trying to get to him as fast as you can.

As you reach his apartment building you come to a skidding stop, cursing as you lurch forward in your seat, immediately knowing you’ll have a neck ache within the hour. You get out of your car quickly, a string of expletives falling from your lips as the heels you’re wearing nearly make you trip on the curb.

You rush up the stairs to his building, knocking on the door and rocking on your feet nervously as you wait for him to answer. What if he’s unconscious? He could’ve passed out from the pain, hit his head. Or maybe he overdosed, or what if he-

“Fuck…” You whisper sharply as he opens the door, looking like hell. His clothes are clinging to his body with sweat, his hair damp and the circles under his eyes prominent as ever. He looks…haggard. Weak, as he leans against the doorframe, veins running up his arm that your eyes would be glued to in any other situation.

He rolls his eyes, stepping aside and holding onto his thigh tightly as he grunts in pain at the slight movement. “Thanks.” He mutters sarcastically, his voice gravelly.

You walk in with a guilty grimace on your face. You really hadn’t meant it like that, but…well, he looks awful. You turn to him, your eyebrows knitting up in a look of concern as he stands in front of you, his chest heaving with tortured pants as he blinks rapidly, keeping the tears forming in his eyes at bay the best he can.

“What can I do?” You ask quietly, trying not to worsen the migraine that’s probably wracking his head right about now. He just sighs through his nose, rubbing his temple and limping back to his couch.

“Nothing.” He answers, and it’s true. You can’t fix it. You can’t make the pain better. The only thing that would is drugs. So, you just opt for following him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder that he quickly shrugs off, stubborn as ever despite the misery he’s in. Once he’s seated you walk into his kitchen, slipping off your heels on the way and grabbing a rag, running it under some water and ringing it out before returning to the couch, sitting down beside him as softly as you can.

As you swipe the rag over his forehead he leans his head back against the couch, his breathing shaky as he inhales through his nose. His jaw is clenched tight, a vein popping from his forehead as he keeps his eyes tightly screwed shut.

The silence in the room is stifling, but you’re not sure what to fill it with. Telling him he’ll be okay will just tick him off, and there’s no chance you’ll say some dumb shit like “just breathe.”

You can’t really do anything. All you can do is wait. Wait for him to need something, something he’s willing to put his pride down and ask for.

Suddenly he inhales sharply, a gasp more than anything as his whole body stiffens, his hand flying down to clamp over yours, squeezing it hard enough to hurt.

You don’t say a word.

“I know, I know.” You say softly, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles as he stares at the ceiling, breathing rapidly, heavily. His grip eventually eases up, the pain subsiding the tiniest bit. You expected him to pull way immediately, but he stays put, lolling his head to look at you, his eyes bloodshot.

“You were on a date.” He says tiredly, and you roll your eyes at the observation. He’s still House, even in this state. Always picking things apart, dissecting, watching, gleaning every bit of knowledge he can use to his advantage.

Again, you really shouldn’t be into that.

You laugh a little, shaking your head. “He was boring anyway.” For a moment you consider telling him more, trying to distract him, but he’s too smart for that. A story about a relatively uneventful night won’t be stimulating enough to distract him from the pain, not nearly.

For a second you consider the option that would be.

You quickly discard the thought. Not the time. Not the night.

He just nods, but you can swear for a moment you see the slightest smirk on his face. Like he’s pleased you didn’t have any interest. Relieved, almost.

Again, you discard the thought.

It’s not quite so easy this time.

Quickly his face morphs back into an expression of agony, his brows knit together, his breaths now coming out in shallow gasps. “What do you need?” You ask softly, stroking his hand.

“Bath.” The word comes out strained and you nod. You’ve heard of physical therapy patients using hot water for pain relief, so as you slowly enter the bathroom—House trailing behind you—you turn the water as high as it can get without burning him.

You turn around, and a silent question lingers in the air. It’s not like you can just leave him…but with your history? The constant flirting, the line that’s nearly been crossed far too many times for professionalism to remain. The gray area that’s grown far too wide.

“Come here.” You say softly, and for once in his life he doesn’t argue an order, just shuffles towards you and watches as your fingers slide up his shirt, his breath hitching in his throat as you pull it over his head.

The strangest part is, it’s not sexual in the slightest. Intimate, sure. Wildly so. But not sexual, not heated or lazy or rushed. He’s never been handled with gentleness like this. Movements this slow, touches this soft.

You’d certainly had a different image in mind for the first time you took his clothes off. Teeth gnashing, lips colliding messily, layers shed sloppily, hands roving freely. Still, there’s time for that. This isn’t it.

You unbuckle his belt, pulling it out of the loops slowly, the clanking of the metal the only noise beside his breathing in the otherwise silent room. A strained whimper leaves his lips as he has to lift his leg, followed swiftly by an apology from yours.

You avert your eyes as he sheds his boxers, focusing anywhere except, well…there. He leans on you as you walk towards the tub, helping him lower himself down into the water, a groan falling from his mouth as the warmth hit his leg. For a moment you think how’d he’d sound under a different circumstance, just how similar it’d be.

God, you’re awful. He called you over here to help him, not use his suffering to fuel your fantasies.

Then again, knowing him he probably wouldn’t mind. Quite the opposite, actually.

You snap out of it as his head hits the wall with a thud, a sigh escaping him as he feels a hint of relief for the first time in hours.

Without thinking you reach out, brushing away the hair that’s started to stick to his forehead from the sweat, letting your hand slide down the side of his face to rest at his cheek for a moment. A part of you thought he’d push you away, and not for a second did you think he’d do what he did. Lean in, slightly, the action impossibly minuscule. If you hadn’t been so tuned into his every move you probably wouldn’t have noticed.

You let your thumb slide back and forth over his cheekbone, testing the waters. He’s never once been like this. Been vulnerable in the slightest.

“Why’d you call me?” Your voice comes out all exhale as you finally ask the question that’s been dancing in the back of your mind all night. Not exactly his motives, those you can guess. He didn’t trust himself not to give in, not to just take the pills. Like always, he needed someone to temper him, keep him in check.

Just…why you? There’s always Wilson. Hell, even Cuddy. Sure, the two of you flirt, obnoxiously. Some might even call you friends. You’re not sure what to label it, you just didn’t think he trusted you this much. For him, showing a shred of weakness, of humanity. He might as well have handed you a blade to his neck.

He gives you a look that you can read like a book. A perfect mix of condescension and annoyance. “Hookers are getting expensive. I was hoping you’d put out.” He answers sarcastically, earning a smirk and an eye roll from you. As much as you pretend to be annoyed, you’re relieved to hear him acting like himself for a moment. Not so overwhelmed by the pain he can’t even think of a snarky remark, let alone get the words out.

“I’m outside your price range.” You respond, easing back into your regular dynamic. He smiles lazily for a moment before grimacing again, slumping further into the water, rubbing the palm of his hand firmly against his leg. You look down for a moment before quickly remembering there’s no bubbles in the tub. Just water, very clear water. You flush, looking back to his face with widened eyes, earning a cocky snort from him.

“Like you’d make me pay.” He grumbles out, his voice even lower than usual. You laugh slightly, shaking your head as you let your hand drop to his shoulder, your thumb rubbing gentle circles in the skin there.

You hesitate before continuing, not sure if he’ll ever give you a real answer. “Seriously, why?”

He sighs, and suddenly you can’t place the look in his eyes. Can’t read what he’s thinking. It’s new, it’s…soft. “You know why.” He answers simply, honestly. And the truth is, you do. Sure, you doubt it. You wonder if he’s ever actually cared.

Then again, this is House. If he just wanted sex, he would’ve gotten it elsewhere a while ago. There has to be another factor, another reason he’s still here. Still waiting.

With the way he’s looking at you, you’re starting to get a feeling you know what it is.

You hesitate, feeling a little bolder, a little more confident in your assumption as you ask, “Are you gonna say it?” Your voice is quieter than normal when you speak, a hint to the uncertainty that’s still there.

He pauses, his eyes raking over you, studying you, searching for any clue that you’re toying with him. Any tiny hint to trigger his walls to come up.

He’ll find none.

Eventually he talks, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion, the same thing working overtime to loosen his tongue, make him more human than he’s dared to be in the a long time. “Not tonight.”

You suppose it’s the best you can hope to get out of him, and so you just smile, soaking in the honesty you’re sure will be gone by morning. Your hand slides down to his that’s sitting on the edge of the tub, holding it gently.

“I’ll wait.” You say softly, watching as he smirks slightly, his eyes fully shutting, his breathing starting to even out. “Sap.” He mutters under his breath, earning a tired, amused huff from you.

And yet he can’t help but enjoy believing you.

“But I stay.”

A/N: my niche is writing the most depressing shit on the face of the earth and then sprinkling in a tiny bit of fluff and taylor swift lyrics to make it cute.

! Merry (late) Christmas !

Your secret santa XoXo - Kimi Raikonnen x Reader

summary: Y/n is Kimi's favorite santa.

warnings: age gap, romance, too cute🫶, Not retired Kimi!! rawdogging(not proofread)

author's 🗒️'s: i haven't had much time for writing so i did a bit of a cutesy christmas fic for the part 2 hope its good w u guyss <33 enjoy loves!!

( Seb nd Kimi arent retired, reader is at AM with Lance!!)

part 1, part 2, ...

______

It's Christmas. Secret santa with the grid and snow. Well not snow because all of us are still in Abu Dhabi. Knowing glances exchanged after the secret santa pulling. If i remember correctly i was pulled by i think Lance. Im not sure if it really was Lance, but the canadian is a pleasure to know and is just perfect at gifts.

I pulled Kimi, the legend, and my best friend. Maybe my best friend. Knowing how he and Seb are. Obviously it's not only platonic feelings with the way he acts around me.

Thinking about presents for Kimi is rather hard, seeing he doesn't really have a thing he likes but doesn't have. I'd say alcohol but do i wanna heed into his alcoholism? A bit, but only if it means i get a gift for him.

-

The tea in front of me was cold, but the weather kept me warm. Sebastian sat opposite of me, asking for advice on what he should get for Oscar.

"What about i buy him, his gift and you buy Kimi's for me." I suggest a deal thinking of all the things i could give Oscar.

"Don't know what to buy your little boyfriend, eh Y/n?" Teasing smirk pulling on his mouth, the german dared me for an answer.

Eyes rolling into the depths of the back of my head, showing clear annoyance yet he still kept talking.

"Maybe you could finally confess to him, he's all over you whenever you're near him anyway" Sassy tone pulling out his german accent, the sentence making my jaw drop lower with every word. Catching my jaw, i shook my head. Trying to act unbothered, sipping from the lemon tea in my hand.

"Are you really this bored, that you're invested in your two best friend's love life ? Old man." I look away as i hear Kimi's voice in the distance. My head turned to see him talking to Mark Webber, possibly an interview with all those cameras around. The signature straight smile from Kimi appeared. Uncomfortable aura around him.

I nodded back to Seb only to see him already looking at me. 'What?' I silently asked him, only getting a knowing look back.

"Let's just buy those gifts before i regret even sitting here."

-

Giddy feeling in my stomach affecting my hold on the wrapped object. Looking at the usual secret santa interviewer making small talk, handing over the gift.

The wrapping contained a letter and an object Seb helped me pick. I feel kind of weird, specifically the fact that i don't know if he will like it is weird.

After half an hour, the interviewer approached me again, cameramen following close by. Small talk exchanged as she got ready for the video.

"Okay! One, two, and three, it's on!" A smiley voice came from her notifying me.

I was handed a gift box and the santa hat. Placing the hat on my head i examined the box, wrapped in pink wrapping paper which had hearts written all over it. All i gathered is that it must be one of my friends. I brought it up to my ears to shake and maybe smell.

The shaking part was unsuccessful since the box made nearly no noise, however the smell was gentle yet slightly familiar. Kimi's cologne. Versace eros eau de toilette. The one you recommended to him, because you liked it. Mint and lemon are dominant over the smell of paper.

"That's Kimi." I looked up knowingly, smiling a bit.

"Smells like him. Unless it's Seb and he's again interested in my business." Rolling my eyes, earning a snicker from the woman handling the microphone.

I start opening the paper gently, since i wanna save the heart on it. As soon as i take the top off, i see what i got. Caramel chocolate and snacks from my home country, paired with a bottle of jägermeister. Underneath these items there's a hoodie, unfolding it i see the embroidery on it.

'No. 7'

Holding it close to my nose, i smell it. Versace.

___

author's 🗒️'s: I kind of left it on a cliffhanger but im traveling 4 hours tomorrow im gonna do the end tomorrowww :PPPPP anyways cuties i hope my writing isnt a disaster im so sleepy rn its an actual nightmare...

taglist: @i-wish-this-was-me , @keii134 , @littlesatanicassholebitch <3

Kk! So I absolutely loved your last piece about Carlos and the heiress!reader, and I have to agree I really really love those blended fics. Something about them just hits different ya know? And then I saw this post https://www.tumblr.com/monzabee/729167936518012928 and was like god I wish someone still wrote for kimi. And then off I’m scrolling through your blog and I see that ask were apparently you do?? Like holy shit bestie! This is like the greatest day ever! So all of that to say will you please please right something that involves the video from that post?? Pretty please??

MELTING THE ICEMAN

parings: kimi räikkönen x wife!reader

author 🗒️’s: my heart melted writing this, I hope it turned out as you want, love

summary: the one where you see your husband taking care of your son and feel that you couldn’t be happier as you are.

✩. . . masterlist !

Kimi Räikkönen, the Iceman of Formula 1, had always been known for his stoic and unemotional demeanor on the race track. But at home, in the quiet moments, he transformed into a different person entirely. There was a side of him that very few people got to see, a side that was incredibly warm, loving, and tender.

One sunny afternoon, the two of you sat in the cozy living room, surrounded by the soft laughter and gurgles of your 6-month-old son, Jake. Kimi held the baby in his arms, cradling him gently as he made funny faces to elicit the most delightful giggles from your little one.

Kimi leaned down, his lips brushing against Jake's plump, rosy cheeks. "Who's the happiest baby in the world, huh?" he cooed, his Finnish accent making it all the more endearing.

Jake's response was a chorus of delighted baby laughter, a sound that could melt the coldest of hearts. You watched in awe as your husband continued to play with Jake, making silly noises and pretending to nibble on his tiny fingers. It was a side of Kimi that you fell in love with all over again, a side that he reserved for his family.

"Kimi," you whispered, unable to contain your fondness, "you are the best dad in the world."

Kimi looked up from Jake's little face, his azure eyes meeting yours. A small, warm smile graced his lips, a rare sight for the world but a daily occurrence in the privacy of your home. "I learned from the best," he said softly, referring to you.

You couldn't help but blush at the compliment. Kimi's transformation into a devoted father had surprised you, but it had also filled your heart with an indescribable joy. His dedication and love for Jake were unmistakable, and you couldn't have asked for a better partner to share parenthood with.

As the day continued, you both took turns caring for Jake, feeding him, changing his diapers, and watching him drift off to sleep in his crib. Every moment felt like a cherished memory in the making, and you couldn't help but daydream about the future.

When Kimi returned to the living room after putting Jake down for his nap, he found you deep in thought. You looked up at him with a dreamy smile, and he knew you were up to something.

"Darling, what's on your mind?" he asked, settling beside you on the couch.

You took his hand and interlaced your fingers. "Kimi, I was just thinking about how wonderful this is—our little family. I love watching you with Jake, and I can't help but wonder… I want more of these moments. I want more children with you."

Kimi's typically cool exterior cracked, and he looked at you with a mix of surprise and delight. "More children?" he repeated, as if the idea had never occurred to him before. But the spark of warmth in his eyes revealed that he was just as excited by the prospect.

You nodded, your heart pounding with anticipation. "Yes, more children. I want to see you as a father again and again, to have more of these beautiful moments with you."

A slow, genuine smile spread across Kimi's face, and he pulled you into a loving embrace. "I'd love that," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I love you, and I love our family. Let's make more beautiful memories together."

The two of you sat there, lost in the prospect of a larger, even more joyful family. Kimi held you close, and you knew that your dreams were aligned. It was a beautiful day of laughter, love, and dreams for the future, all in the gentle embrace of your husband and your precious son, Jake. The Iceman had certainly melted, and you couldn't have been happier about it.

Okay bestie but pato saying i love it when you moan my name while being fwb

okay bestie not gonna lie - this is hot. 

He had snuck you away for you from the party. His sister’s engagement was tonight, he had invited you a long as his plus one. Everyone says what a cute couple you two make but you were just friends. 

The party was taking place their house, you two were hidden away in his bedroom right now. “Pato,” you giggled, watching your best friend sink down onto his knees in front of you. 

“Shh, do you want to get caught?” He asks, looking up at you as he pulls one of your legs on his shoulders. 

You were leaning on the edge of his dresser, your hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “If you don’t shut up, we’ll definitely get caught.” You say to him and you can see the mischief flash across his eyes. “Pato..” you trailed off and before you could stop him, his face was buried between your legs. 

Okay yeah, so you two occasionally hooked up. 

It was whatever, it benefited both of you; you were both comfortable with each other, you knew each other, there was no awkwardness because you had been friends for years, plus you travelled with him for his races. 

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue lap over your cunt, fingers sliding into you. “Fuck, like that-” you cut yourself off with a moan, you can feel him smile against you. 

“Say it,” he mumbles against your inner thigh, his fingers curling and you whimper. 

His name falling from your lips and he smiles, looking up at you; your head tossed back, a hand tangled in his short hair, his own fingers pumping in and out of you as you said his name like a prayer. 

 “Good girl,” he mumbles, kissing your inner thigh. “I love when you say my name. Let everyone know who you belong to.” 

Movie Night | Fernando Alonso

It was supposed to be an innocent movie night, it really was. Except you were completely and utterly turned on- not wanting to admit it because Fernando seemed so excited to watch this movie. You really wouldn't be in the desperate state you were if he hadn't come out of the shower, dripping wet and leaning on the door frame and all- you really were set up for failure.

So there you were, head on his shoulder, with his arm wrapped around you as you clenched and rubbed your thighs together to get some friction going. You could feel his calloused hands rub your shoulder occasionally and that was not helping at all- it was actually doing the exact opposite, it was making you so desperate and needy you felt like you could scream. Jus the feel of his hands against your skin burning desires into you. But he seemed so interested in the movie and just didn't seem as horny as you were, plus you felt bad since this was the first time in a while where you two managed to sit together and relax. Except for you though, you were definitely not relaxed.

You frankly had no idea what you were watching, you'd even manage to forget the name of the movie in the haze you were in. All you focused and cared about were his stupid grey sweatpants and how good his arms looked through his t-shirt and good he'd feel if he just fucked you into the couch right now-

"Is the movie not good?" He asked, face turned to yours, smirk tugging on his lips.

"No no, it's great." You chirped, lying as to cover up your thoughts. Even after all this time, he still made you all flustered.

"Hm, yeah you like it?" He asked, now completely turned to you, his face exhibiting a sort of cockiness you were far too familiar with; he had caught onto your lie and was going to make you admit to it.

"Yeah, it's nice, I'm glad we get to do this." You smiled nuzzling into him to distract him.

"Yeah, yeah." He replied, kissing your head and drawing circles on your arm before chuckling and continuing, "Except I've noticed something."

You shut your eyes in his chest, you knew where he was taking this conversation.

"You seem a bit, uh, distracted." Without seeing his face, you could tell he was smirking.

"Oh really? yeah sorry I must be uh, zoning out." Now you had to hold your ground, you weren't going to give up so easily.

"Hm yeah, is that why you were rubbing your thighs during a funeral scene?" He asked, almost unable to contain the laugh that vibrated through his chest. "Is there something you want to tell me? Cariño are you getting turned on at funeral scenes? Or is something else on your mind?"

The blood was rushing straight to your face. You were so distracted that you hadn't noticed that he'd not only see you rub your thighs, but he was fully aware of your lack of interest in the film.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You huffed, pretending to be offended.

"Hm, you don't?" He asked, pulling you away from him so he could see your face.

"Nope." You lied again, despite knowing that he was on your case. You couldn't even look him in the eye, nor could you look at any other part of him, his arms holding you felt so good, your thoughts were at the verge of wandering away again, despite your circumstances.

"You're not turned on?" He asked again, eyes crinkling on the sides from his smirk.

"Nope." You couldn't get any other word out, afraid that your lie would get caught.

He didn't reply this time, only pushing you further away till your back hit the couch, making your eyes widen in response. His silence made you nervous, his devilish smirk not aiding your cause. He brought his face close to yours, close enough where you could feel his breath on your lips. One of his hands propping him over you, while the other slid down your waist, pausing at the hem of your panties, stretching it and letting go abruptly, the noise clearly audible despite the movie in the background. Your yelp only made him chuckle.

"You know I don't like it when you lie y'know."

"But I'm not lying." You whined, trying to get yourself out of the trouble you'd be in momentarily.

"You're not? What if I put my hands in your little soaking panties to check, hm?" He asked, his hands already making their way to your very wet entrance. "Oh, would you look at that, my naughty little girl was lying."

You gulped, eyes fixated on his, chest heaving against his, anticipating his every move. You knew how hot he'd get when he'd punish you, and you knew that despite your futile efforts, that movie had been long forgotten between you two.

-

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A/N: I don't talk about my second favourite Spaniard enough, god he's so hot I need him like I need air.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed the blurb. As usual, send in requests or criticism, love u all<3

make a wish, huh? i wish i wish with all my heart for reader to have pissed off her daddy dom in the field. so as a punishment she has to sit on this big man’s shoe while he does paperwork. cockwarming him with her mouth until he decides no matter how bad she’s whining and needing him, that she can rock and get herself off. but only if she listens to him. if not? if she’s a brat and she’s being really really needy?? i do believe that causes for a spanking, don’t you? over his knee, skirt rolled up.. you know. just a wish 😈🙏🏻

Knees | Dom!Aaron Hotchner

The Secrets We Keep (a Bunny and Clyde story) - Blurb

Pairing: Dom!Aaron Hotchner x BAU/sub!Reader

Words: 2k

CW: 18+, nsfw, mdni.

Tags/warnings: master!hotch, bunny!reader, established D/s relationship, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), pet names (bunny).

a/n: when Morgan asks for something, you give it to her.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

You swallowed and his entire body tensed up under you. He hissed in disapproval, his darkened gaze almost searing a hole through yours. You couldn’t help it, saliva had been pooling in the corners of your mouth for a few minutes and it was either swallow or let it drip down your throat. And let’s be honest, the latter did not sound as naughty as the former. You knew how he’d react, knew that his cock would twitch at the slight change in pressure, knew that he would know what you were doing. 

You didn’t let his stare scare you. Instead, you returned your own — round, innocent eyes that glistened with tears. It wasn’t that he was hurting you, on the contrary, he was giving you something that you craved yet it was a punishment that he knew was sure to make you lose your mind. His cock in your mouth, warm and heavy on your tongue, thick and hard against your throat. Unmoving, still, agonizing. 

He’d asked you into his office the second the last agent had left for the night. You knew what it was about, knew what awaited you the second he locked the doors and closed the blinds. And fortunately for you, it had not been the professional reprimand that you’d thought.

Unfortunately for you, he had made you strip completely, only allowing you to keep your panties. The cold air made your nipples hard and your skin erupt in goosebumps. He led you down on your knees, your pussy landing on his expensive leather shoe. He was calm and collected as he rolled his desk chair further into his desk, caging you against the wood at your back and his wood at your front.

“Open,” he commanded, and fearing any more repercussions after your major, his words, mild, your words, fuck up in the field, you eagerly did as he asked. A hint of a smile graced his lips as he watched you, an overwhelming sense of pride and satisfaction burning through his body as he unbuckled his belt. It was painfully slow and you were overly eager as you realized what he was commanding you to do. You were about to reach out to help him speed along the process when his eyes darkened in warning, your hands immediately falling against your sides. 

“Color?” he asked, a hint of cockiness in his voice startled you.

“Green, sir,” you replied, the implications of your consent not yet clear.

“Good,” with that he sprung his cock free from his underwear. He was already semi hard, the tip glistened with pre cum and you couldn’t help but salivate at the excitement. “This is not a treat, bunny,” your eyes met his again before he continued. “You are going to take me in your mouth but you may not make me cum, am I understood?”

Oh no. Aaron knew how much you loved to give him head, how you reveled in watching him come undone by your skilled tongue. It was one of the first things he’d learned about you, one of the things he couldn’t believe you liked doing. Which is why he knew that every fiber in your body would light up in protest. You wanted to scream, argue, throw a tantrum — but you didn’t. Instead you simply nodded solemnly. You had done this to yourself and there was no one else to blame.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he praised and the excitement in your lower belly went up in flames again. “You will be a perfect, still angel until I finish my paperwork, and then we’ll see if you’ve earned the right to get yourself off on my shoe.”

“Thank you, sir.”

And with that he rolled his chair all the way into his desk, one hand around his cock, the other grabbing your chin and pulling you where he wanted you. The movement made your pussy graze against his rough laces and you had to stop yourself from moaning. You could already feel your wetness start to pool and he’d literally done nothing yet. His fingers pressed against your cheeks and your mouth opened on its own, wide and eager, as he placed a third of his length on your tongue. 

You could’ve started crying right then and there, but you didn’t. You would not let him break you that easily. 

“Do you remember how to safe word, bunny?” He asked, he always asked.

You nodded, making your tongue rub against the underside of his length. You tapped his leg once. Yes. “How do you tap out?”

You tapped his leg twice and he rewarded you by patting your cheek, gently at first, but then his pats turned into soft smacks, right against the tip of his cock inside your mouth. He groaned loudly, the sounds slowly making you lose all sense of self as you felt him twitch inside your mouth. 

“Fuck, bunny,” he moaned. “This is going to be a long night.”

And long it was. You had lost track of time. At first you decided to count the seconds, minutes, hours, whatever to distract yourself from moving, from what you actually wanted to do. But it was impossible. Your arms had wrapped around his leg to hold yourself steady, your legs had started to wobble and so you’d given up and fully sat yourself down on his shoe.

You were gone, your brain wasn’t working anymore. All you could think about was the weight of his cock in your mouth and how much you wanted to move. Move your tongue, move your head, move your hands to wrap around his base, move your hips to give yourself some kind of relief.

You swallowed again, this time accidentally, and because of your miscalculation, your flat tongue grazed against his length, making you roll your eyes back in euphoria. You didn’t register as your hips started moving, as your pussy made contact with the rough, uneven surface of his laces, as your wetness drenched his shoe. Your clit grazed against a buckle and you moaned, loudly. That was the final straw. 

Without a word of warning he rolled his chair out, his hands quickly grabbing you under your armpits and effortlessly lifting you from under the desk. Your mind snapped back to reality in an instant. Glazed eyes turned sharp, numbness turned responsive, daze turned into realization. You were about to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, to let the tears fall when he sat you down on his lap, your legs on either side of his own. 

“Sir—”

His palm landed with a smack on your ass, the sting making you whimper. You had learned early on that there were times when he was so overwhelmed that he couldn’t bring himself to verbalize his commands. Instead, he’d gotten into the habit of turning them into action. A single spank was a warning to be quiet, to save whatever groveling — he wasn’t going to listen to it. 

“When I give you a command, I expect you to follow it,” he said, anger lacing every word.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, your head hanging low avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t mean it—”

That made him snap, his right hand landing another smack against your reddening ass as his left tightly grasped your jaw, pulling your head up to face him. 

“Like you didn’t mean to go into that apartment without backup?” 

He was concerned, so much in fact that it was the easiest you’d ever been able to read him. You knew he’d been concerned for you. As your boss, you knew he cared for you. But as your Dom…that was a whole different story. You’d done your best to compartmentalize, to trust the other in your skills and training, to accept that you would both be put in scary situations when out in the field. But right then and there, you knew, you saw. He was terrified.

“Yes,” you breathed, the heavy understanding of your punishment washing over you like ice cold water. “It will not happen again. Sir.”

His eyes bore into yours, searching, but you knew what he would find. You cared too. It wasn’t like you had planned on going in without backup, it was that you both understood that the job came first, that whatever instinct made you follow through, no matter how reckless, had probably been for the best of the case. And as much as you both knew, if it made him feel more comfortable to remind you to be careful in this way, you would let him do it every single time.

“Good girl,” he praised, his lips hovering over yours teasingly. “I think you deserve a treat, don’t you?”

You nodded rapidly, making him smirk. You reveled in it, in his smile, in the warmth that was seeing him experience happiness in whatever form it might take. He gently guided you back to your knees in front of his chair and your eyes lit up.

“Make me cum, bunny,” he sat back down, legs spread open like inviting you to a buffet, chest rising and falling, his white button up straining with each breath.

You wasted no time getting to work, your hands quickly wrapping themselves around the base of his cock. He was still a little slick from your saliva, but it wasn’t enough, so you reached one hand down your panties, fingers eagerly collecting your slick before you slathered it all over his rock hard erection.

“Jesus Christ, bunny,” he groaned as your hands started to move up and down his shaft. Moves calculated, perfectly pressured, expertly avoiding his needy tip. Pre cum started to leak once more and that’s when you couldn’t hold back any longer. Your tongue darted out on its own volition, eagerly rolling around his tip, hungrily drinking him all in. He moaned loudly, his hand wrapping around your hair and pushing you further down against his length. 

You let him, flattening your tongue and opening your throat as you swallowed more and more of his length into your mouth. He stopped at your hand, letting you work your magic then. You wanted him to cum, needed to feel his spend down your throat. Your hands sped up their movements, meeting your mouth sloppily as you bobbed your head up and down to meet them at the base. You continued to roll your tongue around his length as you sucked in your cheeks, tightening around his cock. You could feel him tense, his moans becoming louder and louder, his breathing uneven, his heartbeat aggressive.

“I’m close—” he didn’t even manage to finish his sentence as you removed your hands and took him the rest of the way down your throat. His chest erupted in an animalistic groan as the tension snapped and he spilled down your throat. You moaned at the feeling, at the power that you had over this beautiful man in front of you. As much as you wanted relief of your own, there was nothing more satisfying than having him spill down your throat, than having him come undone by your tongue. The tears finally spilled as you kept him there, patiently waiting for him to finish before you pulled yourself off him. Your eyes locked onto his as you swallowed, making a show of it. 

You were both breathing rapidly, both stuck in a pocket of time where nothing else but the two of you existed, both completely satisfied in your own ways. He ran his hand over his face then, breaking the spell, knowing that if he stayed any longer, he’d say something he’d regret. Instead he took in a sharp breath and placed himself back into his pants before he reached out to help you to your feet. He led you back on his lap and this time he cradled you, warm hands running all over your cold body. You hummed against his chest, your own hands tightly grabbing a hold of his suit jacket. 

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he murmured before he pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“Yes, Master.”

idk if i'm "back" yet, but here's my offering to you on this saturday. but mostly bc i wanted to fuck with morgan while she's busy and can't do anything about it.

tags: @ssamorganhotchner, @criminalskies, @callm3c0nfus3d, @xladyxdreamer, @gr3enflowers, @lilyviolets, @howabouticallyou, @shadowmemory, @simp4f1, @honeylovemoon, @powerlvr25, @formulapierre, @spenciesprincess, @extra-trash77 (if i missed anyone please let me know!)

This maybe the daddy issues talking but my god who gave these assholes the right to look this fine 😭😭

My favorite blonde twinks 😋🥸

RED DRESS

Kimi Raikkonen x Reader x Sebastian Vettel

“Will you put that red dress on? The one with the really low…” He trailed off, his hand trailing down his chest, referencing your after party dress that you wore in Monaco that left very little to the imagination. Live on air: Sebastian Vettel was hitting on you. Not only was this highly unprofessional, but humiliating as well. Being the only female Formula One presenter had its perks, like the young girls who confided in you their hopes and dreams of being in your shoes one day, but days like this made you wish they never had to experience this form of extreme embarrassment.

Sebastian was a good looking man, no doubt about it, but his cocky personality and his disregard for others overshadowed his looks, and now all you see is a flirt with no sense of shame.

In order to avoid making the situation even worse, you pulled the microphone away from Sebastian and let out a forced giggle, “ok, and it’s time to go! Ladies and gentleman: Sebastian Vettel!” Sebastian walked away, being beckoned by his manager to take part in what you could only assume was another post-race interview. Your cameraman gave you the signal that you were no longer being filmed and you let out a frustrated sigh, “every-time!” you said turning to your co-host. “Every-time I’m forced to interview him, he pulls one of his stunts, embarrasses me, and then leaves with this satisfied smile on his face! It’s like his only goal is to publicly humiliate me!” You begin walking down the grid with your co-host, away from the podium area, and even further away from Sebastian.

“He was just messing with you,” your co-host insisted, trying to lighten the mood and hopefully end the Sebastian-centred conversation. “He’s just finished a physically taxing, almost 2 hour long race, let him have his fun.”

“There’s a difference between fun and embarrassing someone on worldwide television, and if you couldn’t tell already, Sebastian was doing the latter.” You turned around and made your way to the cab you had called earlier to take you back to your hotel, not wanting to continue the conversation, as its forcing you to think about the German driver longer than necessary.

—————

It wasn’t only Sebastian who insisted on giving you a hard time, but his fellow driver and podium sitter, Kimi Raikkonen.

The Finnish driver didn’t always irk you as much as he does now, in fact you grew quite close over your shared years in the sport. It wasn’t until Sebastian made the move to Red Bull, that his flirtatious attitude rubbed off on Kimi, tearing a rift in what once was a close friendship. The change wasn’t sudden, but small actions that made you wonder what possessed Kimi to do such things. One of the first comments he made that stood out to you was during an after party, celebrating Kimi and his latest win. Although parties were never your idea of a night well spent, it was practically necessary in order to get into the good graces of certain cold-hearted drivers. Sipping on you martini, huddled up in a booth in the corner of the Monegasque club, your thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

“You look good.” A voice says somewhere behind you, turning around, you see the last person you’d expect to be dishing out compliments. Kimi Raikkonen, in a night club, wearing a suit. It was like looking at a fish out of water. Instead of being visibly uncomfortable, like he usually was in large social gatherings, you noticed something different in his eyes; something darker.

“What?” Although you may have heard the Finn’s kind words the first time around, it was so out of character that you needed reassurance that it wasn’t just something your mind made up to pass time at the after party.

“I said you look good,” repeating his words, Kimi slid into the booth to sit beside you, he smelled of booze and cheap cologne, proving one of your manly assumptions about the driver, that he’s too preoccupied in his own thoughts to indulge in luxuries that he was more than able to afford. Noticing Kimi’s thigh grazing yours, you slid down the booth to create some space, taking note of the slight frown that he now wore. Before you were able to inquire on the sudden change, your co-host called you to the dance floor, insisting that you dance with them and not “sulk in the corner like a loser.”

You looked at Kimi, giving him a sad smile, a way of apologizing and saying goodbye, before being dragged to the clubs centre. You never brought up his actions again, but some part of you still wonders what would have happened if you stayed in that booth a little bit longer.

————

The Finns actions never bothered you, until he, like Sebastian, decided to bring the flirting into the eyes of the public.

Kimi’s second win of the season, interrupting Sebastian’s winning streak, brought out a side of Kimi that had yet to be seen. Proud of not only winning the Italian Grand Prix, but also successfully stopping his rival from rewriting the sports history; Kimi was ecstatic. After getting weighed after the race, he sauntered over to you with a newfound confidence in his step.

“Kimi! Your second win of the season, almost 3 months after your first; how does it feel for your hard work to finally pay off?” You asked with a smile on your face.

“It feels good.”

“Any plans to celebrate your massive win?” You wonder, trying to keep the conversation alive.

“What are your plans?” He asked with a smirk on his face.

Not him too, you thought. Although Sebastian’s incessant flirting was embarrassing, the last thing you needed was another driver who enjoyed seeing you flustered in front of the millions watching at home. Fighting back an annoyed sigh and trying not to sound as flustered as you feel, you answered “ I don’t think I have any plans made,” you said looking over to you co-host, silently begging them to save you from this nightmare.

“That’s good news for me then,” Kimi smirked, “Ill text you” he said walking away as your next driver came over to be interviewed.

————-

You never expected him to actually text you, assuming it was him playing up the flirting for the cameras, until you got back to your hotel. Checking your phone after a long day, you see his name pop up. There was no “hello” or “how are you,” but an address. Quickly typing it into your search engine, your jaw dropped.

It was a nightclub, the most exclusive in all of Monza.

A few minutes passed and you received another text from the Finn. It simply said,

“wear that red dress.”