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dandylovesturtles · 2 days ago

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oh yeah so Yes pretty overwhelmingly won the poll so you guys only have yourselves to blame for seeing this nonsense I will probably not do much more with lol

anyway I've been mentally calling it the Draxum's Kids AU or Step-brothers AU because I didn't come up with anything creative

high level premise is that, due to ~mystic shenanigans~, Draxum from the OU (post-movie) gets pulled through a portal to another dimension, about a year behind the OU dimension, where he kept the turtles and accomplished a lot of his human eradication goals but was also a terrible father. Draxum sees the writing on the wall that his AU self's foolish actions have led to an impending apocalypse and finds the AU's Mikey (who is only called Boxshell) to help him get back to the original dimension. But as soon as he meets back up with Boxshell his Dad Instincts kick in and he realizes he can't just leave "his" kids here to die, so he decides to kidnap all four of them back to the original dimension.

this is complicated a bit by all of them hating each other

under the cut is about 3000 words of Draxum getting abducted

Draxum would really appreciate it if they could make it six months without a potentially world ending threat.

This one seems particularly suspicious. Giant black swirling vortexes giving off massive mystic energy signatures don’t simply appear, not for no reason. The fact that Michelangelo had been the first to notice it, cocking his head to the side like a bloodhound hearing a rabbit, was not putting him at ease, either.

“Soooo,” says Leonardo, swords already drawn and held loose at his sides, “what is it, Draxy?”

That is not his name, but because the situation is serious, he answers anyway. “You expect me to know? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Come on, you’re our mystic guru! So get with the guruing!”

Draxum just gives him the look that the kids are coming to call his “not mad, just disappointed” face. He doesn’t have any more answers than he did two seconds ago. On the plus side, it doesn’t seem like anything is coming out of the dark swirly vortex, nor is anything getting sucked in. It’s just hanging there, in the sky over the Hidden City, menacingly.

“Doesn’t it feel familiar?” asks Michelangelo. Unlike Leonardo, he still hasn’t drawn any weapon. He’s just watching it, curious.

“I don’t remember the Krang portal looking like that,” says Donatello. “We could see the Prison Dimension on the other side. That’s just… an indistinct vortex of doom.”

“Not like the Krang,” says Michelangelo, but he doesn’t offer any further guesses. He just watches it with big eyes.

“But we gotta do somethin’ about it, right?” asks Raphael. “We can’t just leave it up there.”

“Well, if it’s not hurting anyone,” says Leonardo slowly.

“Just because it is not doing anything in this instant does not mean it will stay that way,” says Draxum.

“Yeah, yeah.” Leonardo slices through the air, a blue and less chaotic looking portal opening up. “Let’s check it out, Dee. Get some energy readings and all that nerd jazz. The rest of you, stay here in case it’s dangerous.”

“Oh, but it’s fine if it’s me,” says Donatello, but he steps up to the portal anyway.

Draxum feels uneasy, because he doesn’t know what that thing is or what it will do, and because he doesn’t want the two of them going alone. “I’ll come with you,” he says, and when the kids give him a look, he quickly adds, “I may notice something that Donatello would miss.”

“I don’t miss things,” Donatello snaps back, but that’s factually untrue, so Draxum just grunts in response to it.

“Sure, goatman cometh,” says Leonardo airily. “Let’s just go!”

Just to be sure nothing bad will happen, Draxum steps through first. The twins follow him.

They’re on a rooftop now, just under the vortex. Draxum had been expecting… something, but there are no threats, no signs of anything amiss. It’s a bit windy, and the vortex is making an ominous buzzing noise, but that’s all.

“Can you tell anything from here?” asks Leonardo, looking between the two of them. Donatello has his goggles down and a holoscreen up, incomprehensible numbers scrolling by at a fast pace. For his part, it seems the same to Draxum here as it did across town.

Donatello’s readings slow, and he raises the goggles again.

“It’s… definitely massive, but I can’t tell much more than that. Though… I think Mikey was right. That it feels familiar.” He looks at his brother, something complicated in his expression. “Like we’ve seen something like this before.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” says Leonardo, before turning his attention to Draxum. “How easy is it to make an interdimensional portal, anyway?”

Draxum snorts at this question. “For a pocket dimension, relatively simple. For an actual, separate world… Theoretically, it could be done, but it would take a massive amount of mystic energy and decades of experience. Especially if one does not have a mystical object to channel a portal through, like the key that was used for the Krang’s prison dimension.”

“But Mikey was able to do it,” Leonardo points out.

“Yes. And need I remind you it almost killed him.”

“You needn’t,” he snaps back. “I’m just saying… if it can be done, it really seems like someone’s trying it right now.” He still has his swords out, watching the vortex warily. “And what’re the odds that they’re coming here for a friendly visit?”

Draxum doesn’t argue there; he’s already treating whatever this is as hostile. Better to assume wrong and apologize later than to let down his guard and let one of his kids get hurt.

There’s the sound of footsteps behind them, and the three of them turn at once, startled. “Well, there’s Mikey,” Leonardo is already saying in a resigned sort of way, like he knew Michelangelo would join them before he gave the command.

“Sorry, Leo,” says Raphael, landing with heavier tread on the rooftop just behind Michelangelo. “He gave me the slip.”

“Guys, it’s fine!” Michelangelo argues, in that tone he uses when he feels like he’s being babied. “I’m telling you, whatever’s making that portal isn’t here to hurt us.”

“And you know this based on what evidence?” asks Donatello.

“It’s a feeling!”

“Ah yes, feelings, how quantifiable.”

“Well you don’t have any evidence it’s evil either, Donald!” Michelangelo retorts.

Draxum is about to step into the middle of this quarrel when Leonardo stops it for him.

“Guess we’re about to find out who’s right,” he says, eyes locked on something above them, and Draxum looks up just in time to see that there’s movement coming from the vortex now. “Dee, take Raph; Miguel, you’re with me.”

“Wait, guys, we should just-” Michelangelo tries again, but a shimmering blue portal under his feet stops him. Leonardo and Michelangelo reappear in the sky above, Leonardo using his portals to stay airborne while Michelangelo catches himself with his mystic powers. There’s the roar of a jet, and then Donnie is after them, his shimmering mystic tech carrying himself with Raphael dangling underneath.

And of course they’ve left him on the roof. Draxum sighs. Children.

He pops several vines on the roof and uses them to propel himself skyward, eyes searching for what has come through the portal, if that’s what it is. It’s difficult to see against the black coloration, but the boys seem to have gathered under a figure in a dark cloak, who emerges slowly from the middle of the vortex. It seems to cling to them like dark, black ink, the mystic energy drawing out behind them in long, gooey ropes.

Draxum knows he is still many meters away, but even still, he doesn’t think the figure is very large. It’s a surprise, given that the vortex itself is at least fifteen or more meters across, but the figure coming out is short and slight, not even as big as Michelangelo. Of course, that doesn’t mean much; plenty of yokai are small statured naturally, as are some humans. Even Lou Jitsu is small, now, but still mighty. He can’t let the size of the person put him off guard, especially when they have summoned such massive mystic energy.

“Hey!” cries out Michelangelo. “Can we talk to you!?”

The figure in the cloak seems to startle at being addressed. For a moment, they hang in the air, the ropey energy of the vortex growing thicker on their arms and legs. Almost like it’s trying to pull them back.

The figure seems to realize this, too, because they jerk forward and raise their arms in a panicked arc.

Fire comes out - dark flames with incandescent blue cores that Draxum knows are hotter than any normal flame. If the boys are struck, the damage will be severe. Thankfully, Michelangelo yelps and whirls aside before he can be burned.

“I don’t think they’re interested in talking!” calls Donatello.

“That’s alright,” yells Raphael, his ninpo lighting his body red, “because I’m interested in smashing!”

The midair fight begins in earnest now, the boys darting around the figure with their weapons drawn, even Michelangelo. The cloaked figure fights back with the flames, dark and so hot that as Draxum’s vines carry him closer, he can feel the heat coming off of them. Yet, despite the intensity of the attacks, Draxum notices that they are unwieldy and unpracticed, like the wielder has no real experience in fighting, and certainly not midair against so many opponents. Add to that, the strange, inklike properties of the still-spinning vortex seem to be actively trying to pull the figure back; each time they make progress, the moment their attention is drawn by one of the boys, they’re yanked back another few feet.

Draxum sprouts a few more vines off his main one, so that he can move more freely. Aerial combat has never been his forte, but he can make it work. So long as none of those desperate fire attacks burn through his vines and send him tumbling to the ground (he can only hope, in that event, that one of the twins notices him).

The cloaked figure is still attacking wildly, and the boys have to move fast to keep out of the way. It’s easier for Michelangelo and Donatello, who can stay airborne indefinitely; Leonardo, meanwhile, has to use his portals to catch himself and Raphael periodically, portalling them back to the sky or giving them a portal to ground to launch off of. This leaves them open to attack.

Draxum couldn’t have made it in time if he’d wanted to, but in the moment he isn’t thinking he has to.

One of the unfocused black flames strikes Raphael; his ninpo projection protects him from being harmed, but he still lets out a gasp of surprise as it burns rapidly through the ninpo itself, leaving him exposed. Donatello swoops in to catch him before he can fall, and all the boys hang back for a moment, stunned by this development.

“What was that!?” Leonardo calls out, portaling above Donatello and landing on his constructed battleshell (Donatello says, “Oof!” loudly, but doesn’t throw him off). “It just burned through Raph’s shield like it was tissue paper!”

“Augh… that felt… weird.” Raphael is rubbing at his temple with his fingers. “Raph did not like that.”

“Alright, clearly this guy is dangerous.” Leonardo is tense, eyes focused as he watches the cloaked figure yank free of the stringy ropes of magic from the vortex, coming closer. “But see how the portal’s trying to pull them back in? We just gotta get them close enough and send ‘em back where they came from.”

He glances over at Michelangelo. Draxum looks, too. The boy’s brow is creased, like he isn’t happy with this outcome, but his eyes are focused on Raphael.

“...Yeah,” he says finally, and gives his nunchucks a swing. They light up with his orange ninpo, the bright fire a stark contrast to their enemy’s dark flames. “Let’s send ‘em back!”

The boys spring back into action, and Draxum follows suit, his vines carrying him up, closer to the vortex. Now he can feel more of the thing’s power directly, a great gusting wind that pulls rather than pushes. He hangs back from the direct fighting and instead watches the boys closely, should he need to intervene the way he hadn’t for Raphael. If the fire can eat through their ninpo, then any of them being struck would be disastrous - especially if one of the others could not catch them in time.

The kids are succeeding in their gambit to push the figure back towards the vortex, but that means they are also increasingly putting themselves in range of its dangerous reach. The ropey strands of dark mystic energy reach out like hungry tendrils, latching onto scales before being cut or shaken off. Leonardo has all but abandoned the fight against the figure and instead puts his efforts into slicing the strands apart any time they touch one of his brothers, either directly with his katana or with a well placed portal. He leaves the strands that attach themselves to the mysterious person, and they wrap more firmly around the legs, arms, and neck of the one in the cloak.

And that’s when they finally speak.

“No!” they cry out, in a voice unmistakably juvenile. “No, please! I just want to escape - don’t make me go back!”

Michelangelo stops short, bobbing uncertainly only a few meters from the screaming figure (a boy, Draxum thinks, but cannot be sure). “Guys,” he says hesitantly, lowering his weapons. “I really think we should-”

Whatever he was about to say is interrupted by a burst of flames from the cloaked boy’s hands, spiraling directly towards him.

“MIKEY!” shout several voices at once; Draxum only realizes a beat later that one of them is his. He’s the closest, and he moves fast, putting himself and a wall of vines between the flames and his son.

The flames make such short work of the vines, it’s almost comical. Draxum watches as the fire races down the towering stalk he’s made, eating them away and leaving nothing behind, not even ashes. The vine Draxum was standing on is, of course, completely obliterated, and he feels the swoop in his stomach as gravity starts its relentless pull.

“Dad!” he hears Michelangelo call out. The boy reaches a hand toward them, and in his panic Draxum reaches back. They are only a few meters from each other, and then less and then less, fingers almost touching-

But it is something else that grabs him first.

The vortex’s dark energy feels disgusting and slimy where it touches Draxum’s fur, like a leech pulled from some noxious bog. Its tug is ferociously strong, and he realizes that if Leonardo had not been quick, if the magic had wrapped around any of his brothers’ limbs the way it’s wrapped around Draxum’s arm, disentangling them would have taken massive effort. As it’s going to take to free him now.

There’s a yank, and he’s ripped away from Michelangelo and towards the vortex.

“No!” screeches the cloaked boy, and sputtering flames spill out around him, forcing the turtles back before they can move in to rescue him. “No! Get away! Leave me alone!”

“Gladly!” Draxum shouts back, ripping and yanking to try and free his arm. “Just close this foolish portal and go back where you came from!”

“I can’t!” the boy screams, and he sounds so wretched, Draxum almost feels some sympathy for him. “I can’t! I can’t!”

“You must!” Draxum argues, because he can tell. The energy has wrapped too securely around the cloaked boy now; there will be no freeing him. The portal he made is impressive, especially as young as he sounds, but it is not complete. He could not be severed from it, even if they tried to help. In fact, if they fully pulled him from the vortex, it would likely kill the child.

No; he must go back. But… is there still time for Draxum?

“Barry!” he hears the boys call out. They try to get close, but another burst of searing heat from the panicked boy in the vortex keeps them from advancing. More of the stringy ropes of magic are wrapping around Draxum now, on his arms, his torso, his legs. His neck. They yank him back, hard, and he gasps as the air leaves his lungs. The mystic energy slithers over him like a living creature, wrapping him up more and more securely in its snare.

It seems… there is not.

“NO!” screams the cloaked boy, one last panicked, desperate cry, but then his voice is abruptly silenced. There’s a roaring noise, incomprehensibly loud, and Draxum faintly wonders if this is how it sounds when a star collapses in on itself.

The last thing he sees as the portal closes around him is Michelangelo’s face, eyes wide and afraid, mouth open in a shout, hand outstretched as far as it can go.

And then all is dark.

…

When Draxum wakes, he’s laying on the ground in an alley in the Hidden City.

He feels a flash of something markedly unpleasant when he realizes he’s alone: sadness, betrayal, perhaps even, Titan forbid, loneliness. It seems the boys have left him to his fate and gone home.

Then he remembers the portal, and Donatello and Michelangelo’s guess that it was interdimensional. It’s likely the boys don’t know where he is. It’s possible he’s not even in the same time.

Or the same world at all.

Disturbing as that thought is, the part of the Hidden City he can see from his vantage point seems familiar enough. He recognizes this as a part of the old downtown, not far from where he and the kids had been fighting the cloaked boy. Even if this isn’t his time, at least he should still be able to navigate - that makes things easier.

He gets to his feet, shaking the soreness out of his limbs. He hears something pop, and is suddenly immensely glad the boys aren’t here after all. He’d rather not endure another round of teasing for being “old”.

The Hidden City he travels through seems largely the same as the one he left, to a degree that he starts to wonder if it wasn’t an interdimensional portal after all. If it was, the dimension he’s in now seems to have only slight variations.

Or that’s what he thinks, until he makes it to the nearest portal back to New York City.

There’s a checkpoint set up in front of it, one that didn’t exist here before. There are guards standing sentinel, ushering through a line of yokai and occasionally asking questions. They don’t seem hostile to the yokai, but it does seem like precautions need to be taken for… some reason.

More startling to Draxum are the crests that adorn banners hung around the checkpoint, matching emblems blazed on the uniforms of the officers.

His family’s crest.

It seems this dimension is quite different after all.

#dandy fanfiction #step-brothers au

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vampiredaisiesss · 2 days ago

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❝ all a ghost can do

is haunt ❞

— part two

★ dofp! logan howlett x younger! reader

tags & warnings - age gap (reader is in her 20's), the brutal sting of jealousy, light angst, a sweaty logan in his slutty white vest, reader being called a kid, descriptive physical fighting, mentions of being touch starved, kissing :)

word count - 2.3k

part one

You wake up to an empty bed.

The indent in the mattress still holds Logan’s shape, sheets carrying the lingering musk of his skin. Real. It was real. A smile tugs at your lips as you press your face into his pillow, inhaling deeply. Your heart feels too big for your chest, giddy and terrified all at once.

Logan—the Logan whose rare smiles have been making your stomach flip for longer than you'd care to admit—fell asleep in your arms last night.

Your fingers drift over the empty space where his body should be, a tendril of anxiety curling in your gut.

You’re not offended by his absence. Of course, he left. He's Logan. He probably has a hundred reasons why this was a mistake— the age difference, your positions at the school, all the complications it would bring.

Above all, he is still your training instructor.

Training. Classes. School.

Fuck!

The clock catches your eye and panic shoots through you. "Shit!" You're late. Very late.

Your telekinesis responds to your distress before conscious thought kicks in. Clothes float from drawers as you brush your teeth, straight to your waiting hand. You catch your reflection as you rush around – cheeks flushed, hair wild, eyes twinkling both with giddiness and anxiety.

Class is mostly uneventful; You find your mind constantly drifting to the training session ahead. The usual thrill of teaching young minds political theories is dulled by the alternating waves of anticipation rolling through your stomach. Each time you imagine seeing Logan, your heart leaps a little in your chest.

The gym is buzzing with activity when you arrive. Rogue catches your eye from her position on the treadmill, her knowing smile making your cheeks warm.

"Hey," she calls out, wiping her brow. "Logan's in the locker room." The wink she adds makes your heart stutter.

Marie has been teasing you about your little crush on "Professor" Logan for a while now. Despite the fact that you’re only a couple years older than her, she seems too determined that Logan’s got it for you. In solitude, you find yourself wondering if he does, even a little bit.

Your feet carry you toward the locker room, greeting students along the way with what you hope passes as a normal smile. Then you hear it—his voice, low and rough, uttering a name that stops you cold: "Jean..."

The world narrows down to the gap in the double doors. Through it, you spot Logan's broad back, his muscles rippling beneath his tank top. Those arms, the same ones that infiltrate your mind so often, are now wrapped around Jean Grey's frame. Her fingers thread through his hair—oh for fuck's sake, his hair—and white-hot jealousy floods your system.

The pain is immediate, like someone's reached into your chest and squeezed. Hot tears prick at your eyes as your mind cruelly reframes every moment from last night. Of course he'd go to Jean. Brilliant, beautiful, mature Jean. Not some young teacher who he probably sees as nothing more than a student who graduated to a friend, someone who needs protecting rather than someone to lean on as a real partner.

What are you to him? A student? A friend? Some kid he needs to protect?

No.

You refuse to cry here. Swallowing past the knot in your throat, you force yourself to speak, proud when your voice comes out steady. "Logan, are you inside?"

"Uh, yes." His disorientation is right there. "Be outside in a min."

In the adjacent room, you trade your original outfit for a blank tank and track pants. When you arrive back inside the gym, you notice he's wearing a white tank and loose running pants, as opposed to his usual jeans.

It is a good look for him. Really good. Stop looking, you immediately chide yourself.

Logan demonstrates several maneuvers, pointing out where to move and how to strike Usually, he makes you spar with someone else. Someone safe who won't knock your teeth out. But today, you have a different proposition for him.

“Why don't you be the opponent today, professor?" your words make several students' heads turn. "That way, I'll be learning from the best."

Logan frowns. "That's not happening." He states firmly.

“Why not? Afraid I’ll disappoint?”

“What? No.” He jaw works as he tries to figure out the look on your face. What has gotten into you today? When he speaks again, his voice is lower, meant just for you. "You don't have anything to prove here. You can get hurt."

"I'll heal." The words – his words – hit their mark, and the crease between his brows deepens.

You watch the muscle in his jaw tick as he weighs his options. Behind him, you notice that your little argument has drawn a crowd. Jean stands at the edge of the mat, arms crossed, watching with that penetrating gaze that makes you feel impossibly young.

"Fine," Logan rolls his shoulders, and you see the moment he shifts into instructor mode. "But we do this by my rules. First sign of—"

"Real fight, Logan." You drop into a ready stance. "Stop treating me like I'll break."

Half heartedly, Logan mirrors your stance. "Let me know if it gets too much, kid."

The word 'kid' lands exactly as intended, stoking the fire in your chest. You bare your teeth in what might be a smile. "We'll see about that."

The mat creaks under your feet as you square off against Logan. His stance is relaxed, still dismissive—feet shoulder-width apart, hands loose at his sides. You recognize the careful way he's holding himself back.

Something inside you snaps.

You launch forward, aiming high with a strike that leaves you exposed. It is rookie mistake he's warned you about countless times. His response is immediate. One hand catches your wrist while the other sweeps your legs out from under you. The mat slams against your back, forcing the air from your lungs in a harsh exhale.

"Sloppy," he growls, already backing away to give you space. "You're better than that."

You roll to your feet, ignoring the protest of your muscles. Your eyes track his movement—the subtle shift of weight from one foot to another, the almost imperceptible tension in his shoulders. He's taught you to read these signs, to anticipate your opponent's next move. Now you'll show him how well you've learned.

You feint with your elbow, a move telegraphed enough to make him think you're still fighting angry, still not thinking your moves through. He takes the bait, backing up slightly to avoid the strike. The space opens up exactly as you planned, and you pivot on your back foot, channeling your momentum into a roundhouse kick that catches him across the jaw.

The impact reverberates up your leg, making you groan. Logan's head snaps to the side, and for a moment, the gym falls silent. When he looks back at you, there's something new in his expression. Surprise, yes, but also pride, and something darker.

"Too much?" You can't help the cockiness in your voice, even as your heart pounds against your ribs.

Logan doesn't answer.

Instead, he lunges forward with frightening speed, hands reaching for your waist. You twist away, driving your elbow into his back as he passes. The grunt he releases is deeply satisfying, even though you know he's still holding back. One wrong move with his adamantium-laced bones could shatter yours.

"What's gotten into you today?" he demands, circling you now with predatory focus.

You ignore the question, analyzing his gait for openings. Your next attack is ambitious – trying to use his momentum against him, to flip him over your hip. It's a move that might work on someone your size, but Logan is pure muscle, immovable as a mountain.

Instead of him going down, you find yourself stumbling, barely catching yourself before face-planting on the mat.

His laugh ignites something primal in your chest. You spring up, pushing past your body's complaints, and strike him across the face. It's not a combat move. It's a slap, sharp and personal, the sound cracking through the air like a gunshot. His head turns toward Jean, and the sight of his profile facing her direction reignites your fury.

You don't think. You just move, launching yourself at his exposed back. But Logan's instincts are honed by decades of combat. He spins with impossible speed, catching you mid-air. The world tilts and blurs, and then you're on your back again, but this time he follows you down. His body pins you to the mat, hands gripping your wrists beside your head, knee pressed between your thighs to immobilize you.

The position brings every point of contact between your bodies into sharp focus. The press of his chest against yours, both your breaths intermingling. The callused warmth of his palms around your wrists. The solid weight of his thigh between your legs.

Anger and desire war in your veins, making it impossible to think clearly.

"Enough! What's this about?" His voice rasps low, meant only for you. This close, you can see the flecks of amber in his hazel eyes, the same eyes that often soften when they fall upon you.

"You wanted me to be able to defend myself," Your voice comes out breathier than intended, betraying the effect his proximity has on you. "I was just being a good student."

You attempt to rise, to escape the intensity of his gaze, but his grip tightens fractionally. The knee between your legs shifts, pressing higher, and suddenly the pretense of combat feels paper-thin. The gym's watching crowd, led by Jean, seems to disperse, offering you some space to work out your… well, whatever it is you two needed to work out.

"This isn’t about proving yourself in combat. You think I’m an idiot?" His eyes search yours, seeing too much. "Is it about this morning?"

The reminder of yesterday stings fresh. "Don't think too highly of yourself." The words come out sharp. "Why should I expect you to stay? You're not my boyfriend."

"Hey, lose the tone!" The command in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and when you try to squirm away again, his knee presses more firmly between your thighs, holding you open beneath him.

Something breaks inside you then. Maybe it's the warmth of his body egging you on, crystallizing all your feelings into a single moment of reckless courage. Your lips seek his, catching him mid-word. For one glorious second, he responds, his mouth moving against yours with the same hunger that consumes you both in your daydreams.

Then he pulls back, though not far. "Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart," His breath fans across your lips. "Don’t do that."

You feel the tears building, blurring your vision, and hate how easily he can unmake you.

His expression softens at the sight. “Kid..."

"I'm not a kid!" The words burst out with a sniffle.

"No, you're not," he agrees, his voice gentling. "I don't mean it literally, you know."

"I know," your voice catches. "I just wish you'd stop treating me like one."

"I'm over 200 years old, bub."

"You're quite well preserved for a mummy."

His answering chuckle rumbles through his chest into yours. One hand releases your wrist to brush away a tear. "What is it about, really?"

"I saw you with Jean." You admit finally. A sigh leaves him, but you press on. "And I understand, she's older, wiser, more beautiful—"

"You're wise and beautiful,” Logan’s thumb traces your bottom lip, silencing you. "You want to know what happened in that locker room? Jean was telling me to stop being an idiot. To stop running from this, from us. I couldn't kiss her if I wanted to. Been that way for a while now. There's only one person I want, and she just tried to kick my ass in front of the whole damn school."

"Logan..." His name fills your lungs like the first real breath after drowning.

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me," you whisper, arching up slightly. His hold on your wrists loosens, prompting you to break free and slip your hands into his locks. Desperately, you plead. "I want you to kiss me."

The moment his lips meet yours, your whole world goes quiet. It's soft—so much softer than you'd imagined the Wolverine could be. Your heart feels too big for your chest, like it might burst from finally having something you've wanted for so long.

Logan cradles your face like you're something precious. His calloused fingers find yours against the mat, threading them together, and that simple touch sends warmth flooding through your whole body.

Your mind flashes to all those times you've watched him from afar, wondering if he'd ever look at you the way he's looking at you right now. Not as a student, not as someone who needs protecting, but as someone who understands his darkness and wants him anyway.

It is a feeling capable of curing the ache of starvation that one feels when they've begged for morsels their entire life. And God knows you both have.

"For God's sake, get a room already!" Bobby's exasperated voice cuts through the moment, followed by Rogue's laugh.

Logan's grin against your mouth is pure sin. "What do you say, bub'? Wanna continue this somewhere more private?"

"Thought you'd never ask, Professor."

★

author's note - i might or might not be thinking of releasing a part three by next weekend if this one gains traction. i just love these two soooo muchhh AHHHHH.

#logan wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #james lee #james logan howlett #the wolverine #wolverine x reader #x men #xmen days of future past #x men movies #xmen fanfiction #wolverine #romance #fluff #light angst #old man logan #vampiredaisies

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thatgurl3things · 2 days ago

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MAID~~~~

One piece characters reaction to their girlfriend wearing a sexy maid outfit.

Warnings: slight suggestive nothing too crazy tho.

Characters: Zoro, law, kidd, ace, and Marco.

Zoro would initially be taken aback, his usual stoic demeanor faltering for a moment as he processes the sight before him. He’d try to play it cool, crossing his arms and leaning against a wall, but the slight blush creeping up his cheeks would betray him. “What’s with the outfit?” he’d grumble, trying to sound indifferent. However, his eyes would be glued to you, and he’d find it hard to concentrate on anything else. As the day goes on, he’d become more flustered, especially if you playfully tease him by bending over to pick something up. Eventually, he’d pull you aside, his voice low and serious, “You’re making it hard to focus… Let’s find somewhere private.”

Law would be intrigued and slightly amused by the sight of you in a maid outfit. He’d raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans against a wall, arms crossed. “You know, that’s quite the outfit you’ve got there,” he’d say, his tone teasing. He’d enjoy watching you move around, a playful glint in his eyes. If you decided to tease him by pretending to serve him, he’d chuckle softly, but his heart would race. Eventually, he’d pull you closer, whispering in your ear, “You’re going to have to make it up to me for distracting me like this.” His hands would find their way to your waist, pulling you into him, and you’d know exactly what he meant.

Kidd would be unabashedly vocal about his appreciation for your maid outfit. “Damn, you look good!” he’d exclaim, a wide grin spreading across his face. He’d likely make a few bold comments, teasing you about how you should wear it more often. Kidd would be playful, perhaps challenging you to a little game of chase around the ship. As you run away, he’d enjoy the thrill of the hunt, his laughter echoing as he pursues you. When he finally catches you, he’d pull you close, his eyes darkening with desire. “You think you can get away that easily?” he’d growl, before kissing you fiercely, his hands roaming over your body.

Ace would be utterly captivated by you m in a maid outfit. He’d have that signature grin on his face, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wow, you’re really trying to kill me, huh?” he’d joke, though he’s clearly flustered. He’d love to see you playfully serve him, but he’d also be the type to pull you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. “You know, I could get used to this,” he’d say, his voice low and teasing. If you decided to play coy and tease him, he’d chase after you, laughter bubbling up as he tries to catch you. Once he does, he’d pull you into a passionate kiss, his hands exploring as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

Marco would be both surprised and delighted to see you in a maid outfit. He’d chuckle softly, a warm smile spreading across his face. “You look adorable,” he’d say, his tone affectionate. He’d enjoy the sight of you flitting around, but he’d also be a little protective, making sure no one else gets too close. If you decided to tease him, he’d play along, pretending to be oblivious while secretly enjoying the view. When you finally catch his attention, he’d pull you into a gentle embrace, his voice soft. “You know, you’re making it really hard to concentrate on work,” he’d murmur before leaning in for a sweet kiss, his hands tenderly caressing your back.

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Thanks for reading! I’m going to make a part two with; shanks, mihawk, Aokiji, sabo, lucci. Let me know who else I should add!!!

#kidd one piece #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #portgas d ace #ace x reader #marco the phoenix #marco x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #kidd x reader #slight suggestive

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beneathsilverstars · 3 days ago

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I think maybe they’re acting odd enough in Dormont that when Isabeau leaves the favor tree and goes up to the cliff, he stays closer to the town side — looking at Mirabelle and the path to the favor tree — as he considers whether he should talk to anyone else about it, or ask Siffrin if they’re okay once they’re back from the favor tree, or something. And honestly he probably wouldn’t have ended up doing any of those things! But it means he is close enough to see when Siffrin is about to slip on the banana peel, whereas Siffrin didn’t even notice him there, because why would they look for any changes? Nothing ever changes unless they change it by force.

So Siffrin casually strolls towards the peel, and Isabeau shouts, "Woah, Sif, look out—!" and manages to catch him right as his legs go out from under him. Which, wow! That was scary! Good thing he was there, that could’ve been awful, what with the cliff right there and everything!

So now Siffrin can’t use the banana peel; Isabeau threw it away. And they can’t will themself to just jump off the cliff without it. So they resign themself to getting to the house the slow way, but, stars, they do not feel like sitting around Dormont right now. And it wasn’t even the first floor that they needed to go to anyway, so they’d be doing the whole entire night in Dormont, just to end the loop asap anyway! So. Eventually they give up and go for the dagger. But they’ve never used the dagger in Dormont before, and once they decide to use it they don’t waste a lot of time planning, so. They don’t do a good enough job making sure no one is nearby.

And it turns out Odile was right around the corner behind him, and she rounds it just in time to see him raise the knife. She casts slow on him and rushes forward and manages to yank his arm back before he can cut unsalvageably deep, then shouts for help. She sends the nearest villager to get Mirabelle, who hasn’t used any craft yet today, so she’s able to pour everything she has into healing him. Meanwhile Odile goes to get Isabeau and make sure Bonnie stays away until the situation isn’t so gory.

Eventually Mirabelle has Siffrin all healed and cleaned up and situated at the clocktower, and Bonnie is retrieved to start making dinner a little early. And now Odile and Isabeau and Mirabelle have allll evening to talk to Siffrin and try and figure out what’s wrong and how to help. Though Siffrin, of course, is being very unhelpful. They're desperately looking forward to their next chance to loop, and worried they won’t get one, and spiraling about upsetting everyone, but refusing to tell them about the time loops because it doesn’t matter, Siffrin doesn’t want to upset them more, they just! need! a way to loop!!

And of course he doesn’t say any of that out loud. But it’s not hard for the others to pick up that Siffrin wishes they hadn’t stopped him and is looking for a chance to escape, so of course they don't give him the chance. They ask if anything happened during/before his nap, and he insists no, nothing happened, he's fine. They suggest he doesn’t have to — and in fact, probably shouldn’t — go to the house tomorrow, but that really upsets him, because he wants to help them, he doesn’t want them to get hurt without him!! But they don’t want him to get hurt either.

But eventually they’re like, okay, even if we did give you your dagger back tomorrow so you can fight with us in the house, because we trust that you wouldn’t put us in danger, and we’ll keep a close eye on you — what next? We can’t just! Leave you! I mean we can't stop you from leaving but we want to help if you’ll let us!!!

And Mirabelle starts saying, "Maybe you could stay in the Dormont house with me, when it's back to normal? Until you're feeling better? I know everyone here, I could help you find a counselor if you'd be okay with that!" And Odile adds, "Or if you have somewhere to be I could accompany you; I didn’t have any particular plans on where to go next, so I might as well go the same direction as you." And of course Isabeau chimes in, "I really don’t need to get back to Jouvente any time soon — I quit my job, after all. I can stay with you as long as you need, as long as you want." And they ask Siffrin what their plans were, where they’re headed, and. Siffrin can’t come up with an answer that’s specific enough to be believable, not when they’re currently trying to plan specifics. Playing it off with a joke won't work, not this time. He tries to reassure them that they don’t need to change their plans for him, he’ll be fine, he knows they have their own things to do, and he’ll be fine on his own—

But Isabeau says, "You gotta understand why I don’t really believe that right now, Sif. You don’t have to let us stay with you if you don't want, but please don’t lie to us, you're obviously not fine. We want to help, if there’s anything we can do." And Mirabelle realizes she knows something relevant, so she says, "You told me... You told me a couple weeks ago that— this journey was the happiest you’ve ever been." And in the horrible quiet, Odile reaches the inevitable conclusion: "That journey will be over tomorrow, one way or another, and you don't have anything else to keep going for."

And Siffrin — they've been internally freaking out and spiraling this whole time, right? But it was never quite enough to automatically loop back, because— every mistake they made was immediately followed by clear assistance and compassion. Even when they first cut their throat, the moment that they realized they'd been caught was also the moment Odile touched them and then held them, reassured them with uncharacteristic desperation between shouts for help as she used her own coat to staunch the blood.

And now, no matter how horribly guilty and sick he feels that he's forcing his family to stay with him because they mistakenly think he's suicidal, this is them staying with him. It is a way forward.

So. The truth is out. They know that Siffrin was dreading the end of the quest because he had nowhere and nothing and no one to return to. They're wrong that he was about to kill himself over it, technically, except aren't they right about that too? No one knows it, but that was the reason for the loops, and he sure did kill himself far too easily in them.

The others talk about how they enjoyed the journey together, too, and... none of them wanted to part, either, they just hadn't brought it up yet. Odile says, "If I'd just said something sooner... I couldn't have known this would result, and yet... I should've known something was wrong. I'm so sorry I let you feel so alone and hopeless." Isabeau breaks the sorrowful quiet to say, determined, "We'll just have to make it up to you now. Bonnie will need to get back to their sister, right? What if we all accompany them to Bambouche?" And Mirabelle says, "Yes! That would be wonderful! And, you know, I was thinking of going on a pilgrimage soon — Siffrin, would you want to come with me, after we drop Bonnie off?" And of course Isabeau and Odile chime in that they'd love to go too. And, if they're all staying together, Bonnie might be really disappointed to stay behind in Bambouche, but maybe they could ask their sister if the two of them would like to travel for a bit as well...?

And Siffrin just starts sobbing. After a moment Mirabelle can't stand it, she has to at least offer, "Would you like a hug..? No pressure! But if you want one!" She holds her arms out a little in offer, and Siffrin can't stop themself from falling into them, and soon enough even Odile is patting Siffrin's back while Mirabelle and Isabeau hold them. After a bit, they hear Bonnie from outside the door, sullen: "I know you said they need space because they got hurt. But. You're all in there. And dinner is ready..?" And they tell Bonnie to come in, and Bonnie was mad at Siffrin for getting hurt again, but it turns into shock because, "What the crab, since when are we allowed to hug Frin??" And Isabeau says, "Since now, I guess?" And Bonnie hesitates for a moment, but relief that Siffrin is upright wins out, and even as they launch into a lecture they launch themself into the hug and nearly knock everyone over.

And then they're all laughing, and crying, and telling Bonnie about their travel plans. And then Bonnie brings in dinner, and Siffrin is ready to make himself eat it, but his poker face is gone right now and it's obvious he has no appetite for it — even aside from the fact that it's the same clocktower dinner that he's eaten dozens of times in a row, there's the whole recently-healed neck injury thing — and Bonnie's like, "Well, duh, if you're hurt or sick or whatever you need like, plain rice! And soup! And crackers! And lots of water!!" And they rush off to get a little of the extra rice and whip up a quick simple soup. And it's so nice to eat something new after months of the same stuff that Siffrin starts crying again, so of course they all have to hug him again. And eventually he falls asleep like that, surrounded by his family.

... And then they have to go through the house again the next day.

And, actually, at this point Siffrin is so scared of losing all of this. It's what he deserves, after guilting everyone into staying with him — after making Odile see such a horrible sight, making Mirabelle exhaust herself healing them, making Isabeau carry them back to the clocktower, making Bonnie cook them a whole separate meal — but still, he doesn't want to lose it. And he knows that doesn't actually matter, he'll loop again like he always does; if the perfect family loop didn't work, why would this failed loop change anything, this disaster where he didn't help anyone and instead they all helped him? But he wants to stay with them so bad. Can't he pretend, just a little longer, that there's any chance of escaping? Can't he force himself through the entire house again, just in case? Can't he act like this miraculous plan to travel together is possible? Can't he hope, one last time?

At the very least, they can linger. Siffrin can feel the dread building, they can't imagine how they're going to bear waking up in that meadow again, but they can put it off for as long as possible. They take their time to check every item. They try not to zone out, and sometimes they accidentally drift for a bit, but sometimes they listen and they do catch something new, bits of travel planning and bits of worry. They don't even use their strongest attacks unless the battle is looking dicey. They just make their way through the house as slowly as they can without raising suspicion.

Siffrin is terrified the entire time; he tries to hide it but he's so so tired, and he's so tired of hiding it, too. Everyone tries to reassure him, but it's to little success; and honestly, that's fair enough, with the King ahead! But then they beat the king and Siffrin is more scared, not less? And he's starting to feel sick and dizzy, too — the wish's conditions have been fulfilled. Its craft is dissipating, and without that energy the craft exhaustion is starting to hit.

But everyone is determined to help. They remind him that they've promised to keep traveling together, and it sets him off crying because he wants it so bad and he's so scared, so they all hug one more time before heading to Euphrasie. And Siffrin reminds himself, just one more time. He just has to hold onto hope this one, last time. Just in case.

They talk to Euphrasie, Siffrin shaking, one arm around Isabeau and other hand in Bonnie's, Odile right next to them, Mirabelle right ahead. When it's their turn, Siffrin takes a deep breath in and out and steps forward, and Euphrasie starts to talk and then—

Stops to ask if they're alright.

And she says something else to him, but he can barely hear it, because it's something different. It's something different. And then Isabeau is guiding him to sit down and reminding him to breathe, and Euphrasie is discussing something with Mirabelle, concerned, and it's all different.

It's different.

And it stays different for the rest of the day, and they wake up the next day to Bonnie shouting that they all need to pack so they can leave for Bambouche. Together.

:( au where siffrin tries to end a loop early but someone sees in time to stop/heal him. and they’re desperately trying to figure out why he did that and convince him life is worth living, and in that discussion someone suggests traveling together after the loops. and then ofc they’re keeping a very close eye on him after that, so, he doesn’t get another chance to reset. then they beat the king! so! conditions met! that’s the last loop! the one where they all saw siffrin try to kill themself! the one where the party surely only agreed to stay with them out of guilty obligation. but he’s selfish so of course he won’t do the right thing and refuse to go along with it. :( :( :(

#well that's not what i meant to do with my afternoon but that's fine i guess. i did deserve a treat #isat #siffrin #the whole family #thoughts #thoughts about siffrin #yknow what i think this counts as #silverstarsfic #isat spoilers #suicide mention #suicide #dagger ending au

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captainsamuelmorrigan · 2 days ago

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Poolverine NSFW [mentions & talking about sex acts]

Logan isn't exactly 'secretive' about his sex life. He just thinks everyone is a little too blasé about revealing details about their private life. Call him old-fashioned, but he is perfectly happy to keep his experiences between him and his lovers.

Of course, Wade has to poke the bear, or rather, the Wolverine. He's desperate to know what over 200 years of trudging through the world as a hunka-hunka burning love produces in the bumping uglies department. What kind of kinky shenanigans could a mutant Edward Scissorhands get up to? And that healing factor? That meant all-nighters to him.

"Peanut, have you ever heard of 'pegging?'" Wade leans over the couch, encroaching Logan's personal space in a way that would be concerning if Althea hadn't made a rule about drawing blood in the tiny apartment.

Logan nods, not looking up from his book. "Yeah."

Wade fist pumps. "Someone in some universe owes someone five bucks for that one. Hell yeah, feminist king. Have you ever tried it?"

"Why do you care?" He licks his finger before turning to the next page.

"I'm curious like a cat, Wolvie-bear. Except satisfaction has nothing to do with me coming back. Who was the lucky girl?"

"I'm going to stop talking now. I suggest you do too." Logan remarks with a flash of his middle claw.

Several days pass before Wade brings up something like that again. Waltzing into Logan's room, an interdimensional add-on that was part of the perks from the TVA.

"So, Babygirl, do you pitch or catch?" Wade mimes the baseball gestures. "Are you more of a gun or a holster? Gifted or receiver? One or a zer-"

"Depends on the person."

"Ooooh~, look at you using gender-neutral language. What makes you decide?"

Logan closes his laptop with a sigh. "Bub, listen, I really don't talk about this stuff with people I'm not sleeping with. It's nothing personal, I just really prefer not to get a reputation."

"So if I blow you, I can ask about the past of the X Mansion pass around party bottom? Deal." Wade starts in on Logan dramatically.

"I'm not that easy, Bub. We may have had some moments in the car, but I'm not a cheap date. You haven't even told me about your past."

"I've joked about Scout Master Kevin many times!" Wade flops onto the bed, jostling Logan a bit.

"That shit doesn't count, and you know it. You haven't mentioned anything to me that wasn't horribly traumatic. I'm starting to think you don't even like sex." He teases lightly.

Wade shouts. "How dare you! Vanessa and I had a great sex life." He drives his pointer finger into Logan's chest.

Logan bats it away, rolling his eyes. "I never hear about it."

"Well, that's..."

He looks at Wade, meeting his eyes. "Bub, I'm perfectly happy to talk about this kind of thing, but I need you to start taking it seriously. I'm not entirely sure you have taken anything seriously, but I'd like to know what you're into in a way that isn't you joking about mortal wounds giving you a stiffy."

"That one is only half a joke." Wade mumbles, smiling nervously at him.

"After the Honda, I know, Bub."

They begin to have more serious conversations over the next few weeks. Wade opens up about some of the things he's done, with Vanessa, past girls, and even a few guys. It takes a while of Wade being vulnerable, for real this time, but eventually, he starts to get some information out of the Wolverine.

Wade sidles up to Logan on the couch. "Okay, so, who introduced you to pegging? I have to know? I told you about Vanessa wanting to try it out." He waits with baited breath, hoping he's done enough to earn Logan's trust on this.

Logan raises an eyebrow. "Clarification, are we talking strictly about a cis woman using a prosthetic, or are we including trans women using their own?"

"Great question, let's say the store-bought kind."

"I think I heard about it from a couple of bra-burning girls in the 70s? Tried it out with one of them, probably around 78'. It was pretty okay. I think it got a lot better around the early aughts."

"And Jean?"

"Oh, you wanted specifics? Not there yet, Bub." He pats Wade's leg before getting up to go to the kitchen. His hips swinging just a bit more to add a sassy emphasis.

"Logie-bear! Wolvie! Peanut! C'moooonn!! I've been a good boy!" He begs.

Wade begins to plan date nights. Logan said he wasn't a cheap date, so Wade's going to make sure he feels respected. Wade even breaks out the second-cheapest wine from the nearest liquor store. The good stuff. He makes a full meal twice a week. He even brings home some yellow roses for Logan.

One night, over dressed-up ramen, Logan looks at Wade with something hungry in his eyes.

"Jean used to peg me while Scott watched. It was a whole thing."

"You're fucking kidding."

"Nah, I'd take it, then he'd take it from both of us. Plus, with Jean's powers..." He whistles. "We'd all feel what the others were feeling. It was some of the best sex I've ever had."

Wade barks out a laugh, shaking his head. "Are the rumors true? Were you really doing everyone on the team?"

Logan smirks. "Well, there were teenagers on the team, so obviously not everyone, but it was a pretty good possibility if they liked men."

Wade squeals like a teenage girl, lightly kicking his feet before leaning in closer. "And what about Ororo? That must've been crazy."

Logan shrugged. "She didn't like having her private life gossiped about, so we're gonna skip that one, Bub."

Wade nods. "Kurt? Hank? Anyone else?"

Logan thinks for a moment. "Kurt was a bit young for me. Hank was a little stuck up, but if we both had a few drinks in us, he was likely to want some action. They all..." He pauses, that deep frown that furrowed his fuzzy brow taking over his expression, something internally catching his attention. "Well, y'know."

Wade's shoulders sag as the weight of the loss that this Logan had suffered pulled at him. "Oh man, Logan, I'm so sorry."

Logan shakes his head, getting up to go to the kitchen and grabbing a beer, ending that conversation. He stays quiet, with that far away look in his eye. He goes to bed early. Wade worries late into the night. If he still had hair, he swears most of it would've been pulled out by morning.

The next day, Wade makes breakfast. Plenty of greasy sausage, just like they both liked it. Eggs were placed in such a way that the sausage smiled up at a groggy Wolverine. "Morning Sunshine, the Earth says, 'Hello!'"

Logan hums in acknowledgment.

"I was thinking about our conversation from last night." Wade worries the hem on his 'Suck the Chef' apron between his fingers. "I... I'm sorry if I brought up anything too painful. Really, I am. We don't have to talk about your sex life anymore if you don't want to."

"That wasn't your fault." Logan puts his silverware down, wiping his mouth before looking up at Wade. "I wanted to tell you."

"You said you didn't usually talk about your sex life to people you weren't bumpin-"

"If you call it 'bumping uglies' one more time, I'm going to break Althea's 'no blood' rule, I swear to God." He flashes his slowly protruding claws at Wade.

"Noted. My point is, we're not doing anything physical, though. You said you only talked about that with people you were physical with."

Logan shrugs. "I was planning on being physical with you. I just got cold feet when I realized that would've been the first time with someone I cared about since the X-Men."

Wade slides into the chair next to Logan. "Peanut... yeah, that totally makes sense. Besides some really poor choices, you would've been my first since Vanessa."

Logan sighs. "A breakup ain't the same as dyin, Bub."

"No, not at all. I'm just saying that that was still a raw spot for me. You waited until I was ready to talk about it, and you were patient. Even though you've got the most rockin' bod I've ever seen, I'm not trying to jump your bones if you're not into it too, Wolvie. We could just be roommates forever, and that's fine." He puts his hand on Logan's shoulder.

Logan huffs out a laugh. "I'm certainly not saying never. I've got needs, Mouth."

Wade pulls his apron off his lap a bit to hide his rapidly growing erection. He squeaks out a "That's fine too," before fist pumping once again. "Also, calling me 'Mouth?' You're gonna have to do that again once sexy things have started."

Logan laughs. "It's a date."

#deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #poolverine #deadclaws #wolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #wade x logan

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bitchface24-7 · 2 days ago

Note

This is a really short request but jayvik x reader who like just randomly cut her hair short one day for no reason other than vibes

A SMALL CHANGE - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: you’ve always had luscious hair. It was the main thing people complimented you on, and you’re starting to hate it. You’ve always wanted to change your hairstyle; try something new. After a minor crash out, you’ve got no choice but to chop it all off. Hopefully, you won't regret it in the morning.

warnings: y'all smoke in this, crash out (no reason in particular described), impulsively cutting your hair, overthinking, your boys LOVE the new look; stop being a silly goose, fluff, pre-established relationship, Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. I went through a phase for a few years where the longest my hair went was just brushing my shoulders. I had a french bob for a while, I even experimented with bangs that weren't curtain style. I'd love to go as short as Winona is up above but I'd like to re-experience my long hair again before that. Hope y'all enjoy!

Life’s been kicking your ass recently

Nothing has gone to plan. Your work life, social life, hell even some of your romantic life has taken a small hit due to the importance of Hextech and he council breathing down your boys necks.

So one day, when they're out late, and you mean late at the lab, the straw finally broke the camels back. And you crashed out. Hard.

After all this built-up tension, and frustration, you just couldn't take it anymore.

In an oversized t-shirt stolen from Jayce and a simple pair of underwear, you snag your pack of cigarettes out of your bedside drawer. You quickly sit on your windowsill in your room and pop a cigarette in between your lips and start to puff like a train.

It’s not helping you in the way it usually does. You're running your hands through your hair, your leg is bouncing up and down incessantly, your anxiety hasn't wained at all.

As you look out into the distance and see the councillor's tower, you get up and stomp your way to the bathroom. You hastily enter the ensuite and slam your hands into the counter, swiping off all of your toothbrushes, toothpaste, mouthwash, and deodorant.

You look in the mirror and glare at yourself, inhaling shakily and exhaling the cigarette still gently placed in your mouth. You open the medicine cabinet and grab a pair of scissors, and without even thinking, you grab a chunk of hair.

Snip.

You freeze for a moment. Holy shit. You just… yup. You just cut a good chunk of hair off. Maybe like… six inches? Seven?

Well, shit. You don't have the power to reverse time so… you've gotta fix this. You've always wanted to change your hair, even if others disagreed with you. But you thought you'd be in a salon chair getting this mini makeover, not at three in the morning as you angrily cut your hair without thinking.

So you do just that. You start to cut your hair.

Snip.

More and more hair falls into the sink, it's almost a ridiculous amount. It looks like a small dog at this point. A little bit of layering here, face-framing pieces here, you even add some curtain bangs to accentuate your features.

Almost all of your hair is in the sink by the time you're done. You calmly place the scissors down and look at yourself in the mirror, appreciating your work.

The haircut is the shortest your hair has ever been. It stops at the nape of your neck, there are longer layers, curtain bangs, and a nice voluminousness to your hair now. You run a hand through your hair and giggle. It's so short, so light, so different.

You put two fingers onto your cigarette and inhale once more, taking the tobacco out of your mouth and slowly exhaling, you rub one eye with the hand holding the cigarette, aiming the lighted end away from your face and hair. You smile at yourself in the mirror.

You look good. Better than good. You look fantastic! You freeze for a moment when a freight train hits you. Oh god. Viktor and Jayce have no idea about what you've just done. They're gonna come home and all your hair is essentially gone. What if they hate it? What if they think you're ugly? What if they break up with you?

You shut those thoughts down quickly. They're not vain. They won't break your heart over something so minuscule. You put the cigarette back in between your lips and clean up the bathroom. Cleaning the sink by tossing all the hair you can into the trash, the rest going down the drain. You pick up all the care items you swiped and put them back in their respective spots.

You take one last look in the mirror and casually stroll back to your bedroom, finishing the cigarette and putting it out in your ashtray at the windowsill. A light groan escapes you as you stretch and bundle yourself into your bed. You'll worry about Jayce and Viktor's reaction in the morning.

Its now the morning and you completely forgot about what you did until you wake up and run a hand through your hair.

You chopped it all off last night. Oops.

Some noise in the kitchen disturbs your thoughts, so you whip on some comfy pajama shorts and put some slippers onto your feet, the floors are cold in the morning.

Jayce is bustling in the kitchen as Viktor sits at the island sipping his coffee, and reading the newspaper.

Their attention immediately turns to you when they hear you shuffle into the room. They look shocked at your appearance.

“Holy shit babe,” Jayce starts, almost dropping a pan, “Your hair. It looks—”

“Bad.” You nervously interrupt, as your eyes dart between the two of them. Jayce's jaw stays dropped as he checks you out, Viktor lightly shakes his head and smirks “Good. He was going to say it looks good darling. Phenomenal I’d say. It frames your face wonderfully, and it leaves more skin exposed.”

You feel your face heat up at his deceleration and run a hand through your hair, it fluffs up your bangs and it makes Jayce choke a bit as Viktor sniggers. You sit next to Viktor and he immediately places a kiss on your bare shoulder. “See? Oversized shirt, short hair, easy access.”

A small snort escapes you as you lightly slap Viktor in the chest, “You perv.”

“It's the truth! Jayce, tell them!”

Jayce looks at you, eyes big and pleading, “He’s right. I thought you were attractive before but wow… this haircut really suits you.”

You can't help but smile at your two boys. Your mind made you think the craziest thougts. Jumping through fire to get to those conclusions. But you knew they really wouldn't mind, they love you, not your hair.

And they seem to really really like it.

So having a minor crash out at three in the morning and impulsively cutting your hair was a good thing after all. Who knew?

I too have impulsively cut my hair at 3am, the shortest I went was a french bob. I'm currently growing my hair out after having it short for three years. I want long hair again for a while before doing a big chop like the one up above.

#arcane #viktor arcane #jayce talis #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #jayce x viktor x reader #jayvik x reader #fem!reader #male!reader #gender neutral reader #banners by cafekitsune

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animeyanderelover · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! Can you do prompt 8 with Chrollo? Have a good day!

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, isolation, abduction, manipulation, hints of Nsfw, hints of dub-con

Prompt 8: “Don’t cover my love bites or else I’m going to add more.”

Tags: @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @cynniical @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59

Word Count: 2.4k

Prompt 8

Every rustle of the sheets threatened to slash the silence, your movements pausing every few seconds as your panicked gaze darted towards Chrollo. Dark, tousled hair covered his hair, hid the tattoo on his forehead. With his eyes closed and his breath escaping in soft patterns, he resembled a prince from a fairy tale far more than the harsh truth that you too had learned once upon a time. It was this very image of serenity that made you unable to decipher whether he was really asleep or if he was just pretending. Chrollo liked doing that a lot. Pretending to be something or someone all to observe your every reaction.

You didn't dare to crawl closer though to find out the truth. Whether you would risk waking him up in case he was actually asleep right now or his hands would suddenly grab you and confirm that he had been awake all along, all of it would just ruin you the chance to have a shot at starting your day how you wanted it to start. So the only thing you were left with was this agonisingly slow game, stopping your movements every few seconds only to slowly go on after another moment of motionlessness.

As soon as the first sole of your feet made contact with the wooden floor, your heartbeat accelerated. You didn't know why. It was rather stupid after all, the thought that such a simple thing had your heartbeat quickening so noticably within your ribcage. Yet unfortunately your life wasn't that simple anymore, not after everything that had happened. As the second sole of your feet joined the first one on the floor, you couldn't help but start chewing on the insides of your cheek. You just sat there, on the edge of the ned as you contemplated for a while. The steady sound of breaths behind you still hadn't changed yet you didn't dare to let it lull you into a false sense of security.

With one very quiet release of air that was stuck within your lungs due to the tension you were feeling at the moment, you slowly stood up from the ground. The bed groaned as your entire weight shortly dipped into one spot on the mattress before it was gone as you stood up, unsure whether you had done it too slow or too fast. All you knew was that you could only stand there frozen, wiping your sweaty palms over your bare skin as you waited with bated breath. Only once half a minute had passed did you feel courageous enough to take your steps.

Everything was done tentatively and cautiously. Your heels didn’t make contact with the floor, only the front part of your feet pressing against the wood. There was always that short moment where the damp skin of your foot got stuck on the floor, leaving that little noise the moment your feet unlatched from it and even that noise, in another lifetime so insignificant, added to your nervousness. Still you went on, in your own slow tempo. Honestly, you didn’t even know what you wanted to do if you were to succeed and leave the bedroom without waking Chrollo up. All you knew was that you needed to be alone right now and that wouldn’t be possible as long as he was within your vicinity. What you needed was time without Chrollo.

Seeing him, hearing him, smelling him, feeling him, sensing him. All of it would only heighten the fresh set of sore memories that he had recently made with you. There was a new part of your heart that was aching, only one of many bleeding spots within your heart. Maybe it could be mended though if you could have this moment, just one moment, to yourself.

“Where are you going?”

And just like that the hope of healing vanished, your heart silently grieving yet only able to acknowledge with nothing but defeat that another part of your essence had been stolen and corrupted by him.

Who could have known that such a gentle voice could strike so much negative emotions within you at once? It had to be done on purpose. He had to have been awake for a longer time now as the timing of it all was too well done. Just as the tips of your fingers had touched the doorknob, the spark of temporary freedom flowing through you with it.

Unable to answer that question as you yourself didn’t know where exactly you had even planned to go, the only reply you could spontaneously come up with was deafening silence. Any lie that you might come up with, Chrollo would see through immediately. So what would they serve you right now?

“I… I don’t know.”

Your lips moved before your brain had fully caught on to the instructions that your brain was sending as if you had just entered a default mode. It sounded quite pathetic and you dreaded his reaction. You could so absolutely without any of his shallow displays of pity or worse, that earnest curiosity and amusement gleaming within those gray eyes. Whatever emotions you would decipher soon on his face, one thing you already knew for certain. That Chrollo would without a doubt let you know that he had already anticipated your reaction, that he would inform you that he had been watching you. The exact origins of his obsession to always tell you that he had foreseen your reaction and your plans were unknown to you. You didn't know whether his intentions were to subtly inform you that he knew you too well for you to ever have hopes of escaping his tight hold for even one second or if he had other motives, possibly even more genuine ones.

The sound of the bed creaking and the rustle of sheets was what fully caught your wariness, the confirmation that he was not only awake but moving. You spun your body awkwardly around, unsure how to face him after that whole ridiculous sequence of trying to sneak away from him. Immediately you made eye contact with those all-observing gray voids, his gaze searching yours on purpose. It was overwhelming, you were not prepared for his intimate gaze. Not that you were ever truly prepared when Chrollo was around to begin with but especially now, early in the morning and suffering from a queasy mixture of frustration and embarrassment were you throughly unable to hold his eye contact.

Automatically your own gaze fled from his, sliding down. From his muscular torso down to the sheets of the bed, the afterimage of his upper body staying within your mind for one moment longer than you would ever admit. Now at the very least his facial expressions wouldn't haunt you but that didn't erase that prickling feeling that overcame you as his eyes still were focused on you. This was doable though. As long as you wouldn't have to see whatever emotions his eyes would reveal whilst looking at you for whatever it would be, it would only mock you further.

"You don't know?" he hummed amused, repeating your answer after you. His tone gave it already away, that entertained fascination he always felt whilst observing you. Of course he'd react like this, as patient and in control as always. Admittedly, sometimes you wished to get something more out of him then that serene acknowledgement. On the other hand you knew better than to trigger the storm from the calm. You weren't that stupid after all.

You had no intention to confrim what you had already spoken before and Chrollo knew that. For all you knew, he'd probably just repeated your answer loud to let you hear just how silly it sounded now. If that was indeed the case, it had worked wonderfully as you could feel your cheeks growing warm with the shame of being caught.

"Well, what do you plan to do now?"

He only spoke up after giving you enough time to simmer in your own shame and embarrassment, the hot prickle on your neck by now having extended to your face. The air felt hotter, more uncomfortable and you more vulnerable and exposed. You were more conscious of everything and suddenly the fact that you were wearing no clothes had your whole face burning. It was early morning yet already you were physically and mentally bare for him.

"I..."

You didn't know.

You didn't know what you planned to do now. Heck, you hadn't even planned through what you would have done if you had managed to leave the bedroom without him noticing. However, you did not have the courage to repeat the same answer you had already given him for his previous question. Wouldn't that just make you look awfully stupid after all? Chrollo had always a plan, always knew what he was doing. You were nothing like him, you weren't as beautifully composed. No, you were reckless and messy, would never be able to achieve what Chrollo was capable of achieving.

"Would you prefer to lay in bed for a while longer or do you want to start the day?"

As he offered you two possible solutions on what options you had right now, you had to bite your tongue. Two so easy answers to his questions that you had been unable to think of. Really, what else could you have done besides sleeping for a while longer or starting your day? Now whatever you would choose, it would be something that Crollo had chosen for you.

Now, with the two choices presented to you though, you knew at least what you wanted to do. Because you couldn't start your day like this, already outsmarted by him. So with heavy footsteps you made your way back to bed, still refusing to meet his gaze. The softness of the mattress and the warm sheets were only a shallow comfort for you, especially the moment his firm body brushed against yours as he shuffled closer, just shy of pressing himself against you.

Warm fingertips started tracing the outline of your body, sliding smoothly over your curves. That little touch paralysed your entire body shortly as vivid memories of the previous night returned.

"You're very mobile despite our indulgences last night. Should I be glad or disappointed about that?"

You felt it. You always felt it when his gaze was trying to meet yours, wanting to figure out what your opinion on a specific topic was. Not because it could possibly influence his opinion but simply because he wanted to know. You couldn't suppress the little gulp that you did, the muscles within your body tensing up as his palms rested on your hips, pulling you closer to himself.

Whilst your own brain was still trying to come up with an answer that would satisfy him, your body already reacted to his unwanted touch. Your palms manoeuvred themselves within the cramped space under the blanket up to his chest, resting flatly against it. This simple yet very telling gesture had Chrollo stopping within his movements, observing your hands as they pressed against his chest before gray eyes darted to your face.

Your own vision was focused on your hands as well, silently furious that your body had made a choice whilst your mind had been too busy scrambling for a way to appease Chrollo. Yet the sad truth was that your own wishes and desires would never be his priority. Not as long as he didn't see the advantage that he would earn in the long run. For the first time that day you finally dared to look him into his eyes with as much emotional preparation as you could gather. Almost immediately you wished to wither away as those analysing gaze met yours. He was doing it again, you could tell. Whilst the true depths of his mind were places you would never be able to understand or dive into, you knew that he was calculating again. Weighting whether obeying your silent plea would promise him a bigger reward later on or if proceeding and following his current desires would provide him with a greater pleasure.

That silence was painful. It was heavy with uncertainty and the knowledge that no matter what he would decide on, you would have to comply with.

Only when his hold loosened and that calculative gleam slowly simmered down were you sure that he had decided against letting sexual desire guide him once more. In the back of your mind you knew that this meant that he would only demand more from you another time but right now, in the present, you felt more at ease with that decision.

You felt yourself almost fully relaxing, only a slight stiffness remaining within your body that had become a constant alert simply due to his presence. Still, it was the closest to peace that you were capable of feeling so you took it. Even as your body was smushed against his, even as you felt the few chaste kisses that he pressed against your forehead and face. Nevertheless, you willed yourself to relax as you closed your eyes, hoping to doze off and start this day again. The words that Chrollo murmured softly next had you slowly opening them again once more.

"The rest of the spiders is coming later today. There's something important that I have to discuss with them. Why don't you come with me?"

The idea of seeing other people made your heart race. The idea of seeing some very specific people again made your heart drop. You got along more or less with all of the spiders, only because you were Chrollo's darling. Yet you would never deny that you had clear preferences with whom you would rather spend your time with. After having been surrounded with nothing but Chrollo for so many weeks though, you would gladly endure Feitan's scary scowls, Machi's sharp glares and Shalnark's eery grins. So you nodded quietly in agreement, already brainstorming what clothes you should wear. As long as you would be able to cover everything up, you'd be good to go.

Another kiss, close to your ears. followed by a pleased hum due to your answer.

"We should make sure that you look extra pretty today then. It's been a while since they've seen you and I want to show them how far you've come since the last time. I'll help you choose your clothes for later."

All semblance of relaxation was gone when his words reached your brain as the familiar rigidness returned, the unease back as if it had never been gone in the first place.

"Wait, wha-"

This time his lips met yours, the sensation as cold and as alienating as always.

“Don’t cover my love bites or else I’m going to add more.”

#yandere x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #hunter x hunter x reader #hxh x reader #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo x y/n #chrollo x you #yandere smut

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vettelsvee · 3 days ago

Text

COME WHAT MAY | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PROLOGUE: A PHONE CALL AND A NEW BEGINNING [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

come what may masterlist | formula 1 masterlist

Red Bull Sebastian Vettel x Red Bull intern & Webber girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Sebastian breaks up with Hanna and Y/N, his best friend, offers him to go to her hometown to try disconnect from everything. However, things take a turn for the worst when Mark Webber, Seb's teammate and Y/N's boyfriend, calls her and starts thinking she's cheating on him with Vettel.

WORD COUNT: 7337

WARNINGS: Angst, curse words and bad language, such a toxic Mark Webber, mentions of death, cancer and suicide

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @residentdemonhunter @astronomyandfrogs @herdetectivetheorist @prttylight @i-love-sirius-black7 @dreamauri @03071987 [feel free to join the taglist!]

VEE'S NOTES: I absolutely adored writing this, so I hope you like it reading too! If so, feel free to comment me your thoughts, as well as rebloging it since I'd appreciate that a lot! Thank you so much for reading in advance <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

Linz, Austria January 15th, 2010

"Sometimes I wonder if, besides whether I deserve everything I've achieved, I'm actually doing good enough to keep it. I mean... do I deserve my position at Red Bull, or are they just keeping me because Seb was the one who got me in, and now I'm also Mark's girlfriend? And about that last part... am I really what my boyfriend deserves, or, like dad says, is it just a passing fling of a few months where I only want to sleep with him as some sort of stress relief? Seb says that, as long as Mark makes me happy, that's what matters, but... does Mark really make me happy? Or is it..."

"I'll open the door, Dad!"

Louisa's voice snapped you back to reality.

Carefully, you put away the journal he had given you for your twenty-first birthday, which had served as your therapy ever since, in the nightstand drawer. Then, you jumped out of bed with an energy you hadn’t felt in a long time and cheerfully walked over to your desk. You carefully moved aside the scattered notes you still hadn’t put away despite the semester ending two weeks ago and made sure everything looked as presentable as possible. Your straightened hair fell over your shoulders, though your bangs needed a little fixing, nothing you couldn’t adjust with your fingers. You also applied some lip balm, more to add a bit of shine than to keep your lips hydrated. Lastly, you adjusted your clothes as best as you could, trying to relax as much as possible and, most importantly, remind yourself that he would be more than happy to see you, no matter how you looked.

You knew that Sebastian Vettel was just your best friend, but in some way, you always tried to appear as perfect as possible before him to show you were worthy of his friendship.

You knew that, no matter how much Sebastian had cherished you since you both met in 2008, when you joined Toro Rosso as an intern while he was already a driver, he was better than you in every way.

The door suddenly opened, pulling you out of your thoughts and revealing your two younger sisters peeking through the gap.

“Why are you taking so long?” Amelie, 15, inquired. “It’s not like your boyfriend just arrived…”

“Yeah, yeah! Why are you getting all pretty?” The youngest, Louisa, 8, chimed in. “Seb is already downstairs waiting for you. He’s talking to dad and uncle Hans about football, and I’m so bored…”

“Shut up you idiot,” Amelie responded, giving her a light shoulder tap. “Don’t listen to her,” she turned to you. “What they’re actually doing is grilling Sebastian about why he’s here today and, more importantly, why he’s staying with us for a few days.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. As far as you could remember, Seb hadn’t mentioned anything about staying over.

“What do you mean, staying with us? Seb said that?”

“Uncle Hans thinks he’s just a friend, but dad believes you’re sleeping with him while also sleeping with Mark,” Amelie retorted.

“How the hell would I be sleeping with Seb?!” you shouted, making your sisters step inside the room and slamming the door shut. “That’s… ridiculous, that’s what it is,” you added, trying your best not to curse.

“But if dad says it, it must be true, Didi,” Louisa replied, a bit annoyed. “You know dad never lies to us.”

“Listen to me, both of you,” you cut them off. “I need you to behave and promise me something.”

Amelie and Louisa exchanged curious glances before looking back at you.

“I don’t want you to mention Mark in front of Seb. No jokes, no side comments about how much you dislike him… nothing. Got it?”

“Why can’t I tell Seb I don’t like Mark if it’s the truth? Do I have to lie to him?” Louisa asked with her characteristic innocence. “I like Seb a lot, and I don’t want to lie to him…”

“Because…”

“If you’re hesitating that much it must be because you really are sleeping with Seb.”

“Amelie, shut it! Lou’s here!” you scolded, glancing at Louisa.

“What does sleeping with mean? Does it mean you’re dating?” Louisa asked, looking at you one again with a mix of curiosity and doubt.

“Seb doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore, okay?”

Your statement left your younger sisters stunned. Louisa had liked Hanna quite a bit, and she had always been nice to her whenever they met. Amelie, on the other hand, even though she had liked the German woman, started wondering why that same German, who had seemed so in love with his girlfriend, had suddenly broken up with her.

“Seb isn’t with Hanna anymore?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself and give them a convincing answer, even though you didn’t have one herself.

“Yeah, Seb isn’t with Hanna anymore,” you replied as calmly as possible. “Don’t ask why because he didn’t give me many details other than, well… that he needed a break.”

“Does Mark know about this not-so-surprise visit?” Amelie asked, crossing her arms.

Your heart skipped a beat. If there was one thing you hated about your middle sister, it was how nosy she was for a 15-year-old. If she was like this now, you didn’t even want to imagine what she’d be like in a few years.

“Not everything revolves around Mark, Ame,” you brushed off the question because you didn’t know how to answer that no, your boyfriend had no idea about this visit, which you were more than thrilled about. “Seb is my best friend, and he’s going through a lot. And do you know what good friends do in bad times? They’re there for each other.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say…” Amelie replied, unconvinced.

Louisa, who was about to say how happy she was that Vettel was there with them and how much she preferred him over Webber as your boyfriend, was interrupted by their father’s deep voice calling from downstairs:

“Y/N Y/L/N, get down here! Your guest is tired of waiting!”

You quickly checked your reflection one last time, grabbed your phone, and, before opening the door, turned to your sisters with a stern look:

“You two,” you pointed at them, “no jokes today. Not a word about Mark or anything related to him.”

The youngest nodded enthusiastically, bouncing slightly as she headed for the stairs. Amelie, however, simply shrugged and smirked mischievously.

“I’ll think about it,” she said before following Lou down the stairs.

“Amelie!” you hissed under your breath.

“Fine, fine. I promise…”

Rolling your eyes, you made one final check to ensure you looked perfect before stepping out. Your heart pounded uncontrollably as you descended the stairs. You tried to push aside any thoughts that could make your reunion with Sebastian awkward, or let your nerves get the best of you.

However, everything seemed to go to hell the moment your eyes landed on the German.

Sebastian was there, chatting animatedly with your aunt, Johanna, who was chopping vegetables. You were taken aback to see him with his sweater sleeves rolled up, still wearing his Red Bull beanie, as he carefully cut something.

Afraid your friend might catch your staring, you quickly glanced at the dining table, where your father and uncle were still engrossed in the football discussion Lou had mentioned. Your sisters were at the other end of the living room, turning on the Wii console, likely to start a game of Mario Kart and try to get Seb to join them.

You looked back at the driver the moment you heard him laugh, probably at something your aunt had said. He looked so natural, so comfortable, as if he truly belonged in your family. He hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw him, nearly three months ago, but you suddenly felt a strange sensation in your stomach, similar to the anxiety you got during exams, but for an entirely different reason.

The more you observed him, the more you noticed how tired he looked. How… sad he seemed. And somehow, in a way you couldn’t quite explain, that made you feel absolutely awful.

Or perhaps you were beginning to admit what you had never acknowledged to yourself in order not to ruin the friendship you had always needed but never truly had.

“Ah, Y/N! Look who I put to work. He’s better than me at cutting onions. You should tell Seb to come visit us more often, so he can help me when your sisters don’t want to.”

Seb turned at the mention of his name. The smile he had missed so much appeared on his face the moment he saw you. Before you could say anything, he closed the small distance between you at an incredible speed and, without a word, embraced you.

You remained still for a few seconds, surprised and unsure of what to do. The contact completely unsettled you, but as soon as he started stroking your hair, you relaxed and returned the hug, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and pulling him closer.

“You don’t even have an idea of how much I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

“I missed you too.”

And you have no idea how much, you thought, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

Why did your entire being seem to change, becoming something so complicated and inexplicable, whenever he was near?

If only he knew what that farewell at the last Grand Prix of the season had meant to you…

When you pulled apart, the driver studied your face carefully. There was something about you that felt a bit unfamiliar… different. He couldn’t tell if it was your hair, a little shorter since the last time he saw you; the dark circles under your eyes, more pronounced than they should have been after three weeks of vacation before starting your final university semester; or the evident weight loss.

“I really wanted to see you again,” he forced himself to say instead of asking what had happened to you to make you look so… different.

You forced a small smile and lowered your gaze, embarrassed by not knowing what else to say. You had thought of telling him that he looked great, because, in your eyes, he always did, but decided against it, considering the reason he had come to visit.

“So they put you to work, huh?” you finally said, gesturing toward your aunt, who was watching them while continuing to prepare dinner.

“Not really. I volunteered,” Seb replied with a smile. Johanna was about to say something, but the young man interrupted her. “It’s the least I could do after you let me stay here for a few days.”

You swallowed hard. You were more than happy to have your friend stay with your family for a few days, but… why couldn’t you remember anything about that conversation?

“And let me tell you, he’s an excellent volunteer. If only Mark were more like…”

“You don’t have to treat him like royalty, Johanna,” you cut off your aunt before she could say more. Seb blushed and started nervously playing with his hands. “He’s just…”

“Yes, I know, your friend,” the woman replied, apologizing to you with a glance. “But, as your friend, he is also our guest, and he deserves the best. Besides, he doesn’t complain about my excellent taste in music, unlike someone I know…” She added, glancing sideways at her husband.

Seb chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter without breaking eye contact with you.

“At least it’s better than those weird songs Ricciardo used to play when we were at Toro Rosso. Do you remember when he got obsessed with playing Nessun Dorma before every race?”

“Oh God, don’t remind me. I love classical music, but I still have nightmares about that.”

You both laughed at the memory of the year you met, when you had become each other’s biggest support. Everything had changed, perhaps too much, in those short two years, but what mattered most was that you still had each other, no matter what.

At least, for now.

You tried to step a little closer to Sebastian, but the sound of your father dragging his chair and moving toward you made you step back shyly.

“Well then… what’s the plan, Vettel? Are you staying here for a few days?”

Seb nodded nervously at Bernhard’s question. Even though he knew your father well and had met him countless times, he always felt nervous whenever they shared the same space, especially when they had a conversation.

“Well… yes. If that’s okay with you, of course,” he quickly added, stepping closer to the older man. “I needed to get away from Switzerland for a bit, and even more from Heppenheim… to clear my head. And, to be honest, there’s no one else I’d rather spend this time with.”

His gaze shifted to you, who were trying to process his words. You kept glancing nervously between Bernhard and Sebastian, afraid one of them might say something inappropriate.

“Of course, kid,” your father finally answered, giving Seb a pat on the back. “You know you’re more than welcome here. Hell, I should pay you extra for taking such good care of my little girl when you’re away!”

“Dad…”

“I do it gladly, Bernhard. I’ve already told her, but in case she’s forgotten, let me say it again: I love spending time with Y/N.”

You lowered her gaze, embarrassed by all the attention you were receiving, and especially by the scene unfolding before you. You didn’t need to look up to know that Seb had his eyes on her, just like your father. You also knew that your aunt was probably muttering some comparison between your best friend and your boyfriend, and that your uncle would soon join in.

Sebastian took a chance and, while continuing to talk with Bernhard who, due to his worsening health, had quickly taken a seat on one of the dining island stools, wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

To their surprise, no one objected.

“Uh… Dad?” you spoke up, your voice small and hesitant as you carefully removed Seb’s arm and leaned over the kitchen island.

“Something wrong?”

“Would you mind if… if Seb and I went for a walk?” You asked timidly. “And would it be okay if we had dinner out?” You added, this time addressing your aunt.

Johanna set down what she was doing and turned to you. She narrowed her eyes slightly, inspecting the pair of friends. Then, she placed the knife on the cutting board and turned to you with a smile.

“Why are you asking me? You’re twenty-one, almost twenty-two, sweetheart,” she answered, now turning to Bernhard, who agreed with his sister-in-law. “You don’t need our permission to go out, Y/N.”

You opened her mouth to respond but immediately closed it again. Your cheeks turned a deep shade of red, standing out even more against your now pale skin. You stared straight ahead, absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sweater to avoid saying anything inappropriate again.

To hide the fact that your insecurity and discomfort had, in some way, worsened since certain events with a certain person.

“I think Y/N just wanted to check in case you were making extra food for dinner, Johanna,” Seb intervened. You met his gaze, silently thanking him for stepping in. “But if you’re worried about anything,” or Y/N, he thought to himself, “I promise to bring her back at a reasonable hour, safe and happy.”

Johanna raised an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Hans and Bernhard exchanged knowing looks, probably misinterpreting the German’s words, as they suddenly started chuckling.

“Don’t even think about setting a curfew for my girl, Vettel. You’re a Formula 1 driver, and my daughter is six months away from graduating university. You’re both adults, for God’s sake!” Bernhard laughed, trying to keep a straight face.

“We just don’t want you getting into trouble,” your uncle added. “I’m a lawyer, but I wouldn’t want you two as clients, especially not for free.”

Sebastian widened his eyes, unsure how to take the comment. You, on the other hand, just tried not to die of embarrassment, silently praying that the German was taking everything in stride.

“Not to doubt you two, but, you know… trust is a dangerous thing.”

You can say that again, you thought, remembering the man twelve years older than you who, during your entire winter break, had barely reached out more than twice with phone calls that didn’t even last five minutes.

"Well, I think it's best if we start heading out," Seb commented as he grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair. "Come on, Y/N," he said, taking your hand while waving goodbye to your family with the other. "We won't be late, I swear!"

Your sisters said their reluctant goodbyes, thinking the German was going to play with them. Meanwhile, Hans and Bernhard started making bets about what would really happen between the two of you that night.

Johanna was the only one who walked you to the door, carefully adjusting your coats, scarves, and hats as if she was your mother.

"Have fun, you two, you deserve it. And you, Seb, don't think you’re getting out of helping me tomorrow. You still have to teach me that lemon cake recipe you always say your mother makes."

"Don’t worry, Johanna," Seb replied while holding the door open for you. "I’m saving my morning for you and your cooking sessions."

The woman smiled, delighted to have the German around, and said goodbye to you once more.

As soon as you stepped outside, the cool night air hit your faces. You took a moment to inhale and exhale, relaxing and feeling, for the first time in a long while, free. More than anything, you felt like yourself. Seb walked beside you, unable to stop smiling, grateful to be in his best friend’s hometown, with you by his side, helping him get through the rough patch caused by his breakup with Hanna.

"Do you always blush that much around your family, or is it just when you have company?" Seb asked after a while, nudging you playfully with his shoulder while keeping his hands in his pockets.

"Don't start with that, Seb! You know I can be a little shy sometimes..."

"It's okay, I already knew that," he interrupted. "I think it's really cute when you blush."

"Sometimes you're unbearable, you know that?" you shot back, playfully.

"I know, but you love me anyway."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. One you couldn’t argue with because she completely agreed.

And that, more than comforting you, made you worry more and more about your relationship.

Despite the recent snowfall, the streets of Linz were busier than you had expected. The ice-skating rinks were packed, and to your surprise, the winter market stalls, forming a kind of fair that attracted people of all ages almost daily and which you loved visiting, were overflowing with people.

Although taking Seb there had been your original plan for his first day, you had decided to do something more intimate with him instead, something you hadn’t done in a long time, not even with Mark. However, you knew your relationship with the German was special enough to share something so personal with him without regretting it afterward.

"Since this is the first time you’ve come to visit me, I’ve put together a little tour so you can really get to know my city," you explained, looking at him. "That way, when you leave, you’ll know Linz as well as I do. And maybe, if one day you bring someone here..."

"You’re going to show me what tourists don’t usually get to see, aren’t you?" he interrupted. "I mean… promise me you’ll show me every last little corner, even the ones way out on the city outskirts. That could really come in handy someday."

"No problem. I’ll show you everything you want," you replied, flashing him a proud smile.

He laughed at your comment. Taking his hands out of his pockets, he awkwardly brushed his right hand against your left one. You blushed and tried to move it away, but Seb didn’t let you, he ended up taking your hand, not caring that you were just friends and that you had a boyfriend.

Because you were just that, friends. No matter how much he wanted it, he could never, in his life, date someone like you. Because while Mark was already a man with a clear path and a well-established career, he was just a twenty-something still learning from every mistake he made.

With your hands still intertwined, Sebastian’s gaze roamed the streets, the people, and the buildings surrounding them.

"This place is beautiful, and peaceful in its own way despite the bustle. I can see why you love it so much..."

You nodded, feeling your heartbeat speed up. Linz wasn’t the best city in the world, nor did it hold many good memories for you since your mother’s suicide and your sudden move to Spain. But, at the end of the day, it was your home, and hearing him appreciate it meant more to you than you could ever admit.

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, stopping every so often so you could point out your old school, your university, and even your favorite café, the one you used to go to when studying at your aunt and uncle’s house became too chaotic.

However, just as you were nearing the place you wanted to take Seb, he broke the silence with a question that, while not entirely unexpected, was the last thing she thought he would ask.

"How are things with Mark?"

The casual question made you slow your pace slightly before quickly recovering and catching up with Sebastian.

"They’re… fine," you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know, the usual. He’s in London, I’m here, we call each other..."

Don’t lie to him, Y/N.

"And does that make you happy?"

"Yes, of course."

You wanted to tell Seb the truth, but you couldn’t.

This time, he was the one who needed support, not to listen to complaints and tears about a relationship with a questionable age gap and an even more questionable dynamic.

"And how are you doing after everything with Hanna?" you asked, changing the subject and hoping you hadn’t overstepped. "Ever since you called to tell me what happened, I’ve been worried, but I didn’t want to push..."

Seb’s expression darkened slightly. He let out a sigh that you were sure he had been holding in longer than he would’ve liked, staring straight ahead as you walked.

"We’re okay. I’m okay," he corrected himself. "Nothing weird happened or anything, it’s just that…" he trailed off, possibly choosing his words carefully before continuing. "We ended things amicably, you know? No hard feelings, no fights, nothing like that."

"Well, I’m glad to hear that," you replied, choosing your words carefully as well. "It caught me completely off guard because… I don’t know, it seemed like everything was fine. You two were together for three years…"

"Yeah, three pretty good years, but I think we realized we were only staying together because we were comfortable, because it was our routine, not because we actually loved each other." He paused, looking at you. "She never said it, and neither did I, but I get the feeling we wanted completely different things in life, and that was hurting us, even if we didn’t mean to."

"And that makes it even harder..."

"Exactly," he admitted, giving you a bittersweet smile. "But I feel like it was the right decision for both of us. It’s just that… making such a risky choice after thinking about it for so long, and wanting to do the right thing, is tough. Honestly, right now, being alone again is really difficult, but I guess it’s just a matter of time before I get used to it."

You didn’t know what to say, and you had no clue what deeper meaning lay behind Sebastian’s words.

"You won’t be alone, Seb," you managed to say, trying not to get nervous. "You have me."

He looked at you, his body relaxing slightly as your steps fell back into rhythm.

"I know. And, even if you don’t believe it, that means much more to me than you can imagine."

For a moment, nothing and no one else existed, just you. You stared at each other, lost in each other’s eyes, as thoughts raced through your minds. Thoughts that, if spoken aloud, would haunt them for the rest of your lives, shattering everything you knew and had between you.

It wasn’t until you cleared your throat and quickened your pace that the moment broke.

"Come on, we’re almost there. I have a reservation at seven, and I don’t want us to be late."

"Wherever you say, my dear tour guide," Seb replied.

After walking for a few more minutes, you stopped in front of a restaurant tucked away in a small alley. Sonnengarten, garden of the sun in German, was written at the top of the façade, painted in a warm yellow color. Along with the soft lights illuminating it directly and the hanging flower baskets, it invited people to step inside. The instrumental music playing, what seemed to be rock from the '60s and '70s, was the cherry on top.

“Well, here we are,” you said, visibly excited as she entered the restaurant.

Seb watched you, noticing the special sparkle in your eyes.

“Thanks for bringing me here. It’s obvious this place means a lot to you.”

“It does,” you nodded, a small smile on your lips. “My mother used to bring us here every weekend. We always switched up our orders because, well, we loved, and still love, trying new things, but my dad always ordered a schnitzel,” you explained with excitement. That only made Seb feel even more grateful that you had brought him to such a special place. “My sisters and I would always try to convince him to try something different and share some of our food, but he always refused and made up some silly excuse.”

“So, this is like… a sacred place for you, right?”

“Yes, very much so. But since my mom passed away, we haven’t come back. Actually, this is the first time in years that I’ve come here to eat…”

Your statement made Seb’s chest tighten. He knew how Rosalie, your mother, had died nearly eight years ago. He was fully aware of the impact it had on your life, which was precisely why he was more than grateful that you were sharing this detail, this part of your life, this seemingly important family tradition, with him.

His friend. His best friend.

“Really, Y/N, thank you for bringing me here,” the driver said sincerely.

Before you could respond, a middle-aged man appeared in front of you. He quickly approached you and hugged you, a gesture you gladly accepted.

“My dear Miss Y/L/N! It’s been so long, little one! You finally decided to come eat here again… it was about time!”

“I’m really happy to be back as a customer, Matthias,” you replied kindly.

The man’s eyes shifted to Sebastian, whom he openly scanned from head to toe. Once he recognized him, his eyes widened. After all, it was widely known in the city that Y/N Y/L/N was not only an intern for one of the most successful Formula 1 teams of the past year but also lucky enough to be working with one of the sport’s rising stars.

“Well, well, Sebastian Vettel!” the man exclaimed excitedly, offering his hand to the German, who shook it with a smile. “Are you two dating?” he asked curiously.

“No, no! He’s just a good friend of mine,” you said quickly, avoiding Seb’s gaze. “My… boyfriend,” you managed to say, barely containing youR embarrassment, “is the other Red Bull driver, Mark Webber.”

“Oh, well, no problem!” Matthias laughed heartily, giving Seb a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Any friend of our Y/N is a friend of ours. Now, come on, I’ll take you to the Y/L/N family table. I’ve been reserving it since Y/N told me she was coming.”

Sebastian observed you as the waiter led you to a table in a corner by a large window. You simply shrugged and smiled, feeling proud to see how happy and, most importantly, how at ease the boy seemed.

You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous and special at the same time when, before you could sit down, Seb pulled out the chair for you and pushed it in gently once you were seated.

“Well, Miss Y/L/N, I’ll be back in a bit with the dishes I know are your favorites. Enjoy your evening.”

The waiter winked at you and, once he was far enough away, you buried your face in your hands, utterly embarrassed by the scene you had just lived through.

“Oh god… I can’t believe he thought we were together,” you murmured. “Everyone here knows I’m with Mark…”

“Well, maybe they think we’d make a good couple.”

Seb laughed at his own comment, and you shot him a death glare, though it didn’t last long as the corner of your lips curved into a smile.

“Don’t start with that too.”

“I’m just joking, Y/N,” Vettel said with a satisfied grin. “Besides, if people think we’re together and we get, I don’t know, good tables like this one,” he pointed at their spot, “and free pastries like the ones the bakery lady gave me near your house today, I wouldn’t mind pretending we’re a couple.”

You rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the flicker of warmth that bloomed inside you as you imagined a hypothetical situation where you and Seb were together, where you shared more than just friendship.

“Well, I think it’s time we have a slightly more serious conversation, so no boyfriends, exes, or fake relationships,” you said as you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. “What’s the plan for this year? Do you think you can win the championship?”

“That’s the goal, my dear," he chuckled, pouring himself a glass of water and taking a sip. “For now, I think the car is good, and we have a strong team, but you know how things can go…”

“The important thing is that you have what it takes, Seb: talent and ambition.”

He smiled, a little shy at your compliment, and adjusted himself in his seat.

“So, you better be ready to put up with me every time you win,” you continued playfully.

“Only if you ditch Mark so we can celebrate properly.”

Sebastian immediately realized he might have messed up with that comment.

You, instead of responding, did your best to force a smile and act like you hadn’t heard what the German had just said.

“By the way…” the driver spoke carefully, knowing he might be treading on dangerous ground. “When are we going to plan something? I came here, but you know… plans like we used to make when we were at Toro Rosso and before you started dating Mark…”

You didn’t know what to say. You hesitated before answering, thinking about how things had changed since you were single and he was in a relationship with Hanna, who had always been wonderful to you and never minded Sebastian and you hanging out together. She had even tagged along on some of their outings, something that made you feel terribly guilty but, at the same time, too bad to refuse given how kind both of them were to you.

“I don’t know, Seb. Things are… complicated, different… It’s nothing you don’t already know.”

It’s obvious there are things Seb doesn’t know. Don’t fool yourself.

“Well, we’ll come up with something,” he replied, trying to believe his own words. “We could go out after a race, grab something to eat… Or, I don’t know, during the summer break I could take you to the karting track where I used to go as a kid and see Michael…”

You couldn’t keep listening because it hurt. The idea of doing such personal and meaningful things with Sebastian was difficult to process, especially considering you were dating Mark, and no matter how much you tried to talk to him about it, he wouldn’t take it well. You didn’t deserve that kind of attention, even though it was the only way someone had ever shown her… affection, love, or any of its variations. Mark had barely paid you any attention since you started dating, something you had noticed in other couples but had never experienced yourself.

Seb kept talking, but the sound of your phone ringing, a childish melody set by his sister Louisa, snapped you back to reality.

Your heart clenched when you saw Mark’s name on the screen.

Your stomach twisted, anxiety creeping in, the weight of everything you hadn’t told anyone, not even Seb, suddenly pressing down on you again, returning in full force as if it had never left, not even when Webber seemed to have forgotten about you.

“Are you going to answer?” Seb asked, tilting his head slightly as he noticed how doubtful you were.

You didn't move. You couldn't. You weren't ready to face a call from your boyfriend after weeks of not hearing from him, especially not in the situation you were in.

And even less so considering who you were spending time with at that moment, and how stubborn Mark had been about your relationship with Sebastian ever since you started dating, even knowing that you were, in reality, just very good friends.

“It’s just… It’s Mark,” was all you could whisper.

“And are you just going to let it ring? Come on, Y/N, he’s your boyfriend. It’s not like he’s going to kill you if you answer.”

“I’ll call him when we get home,” you swallowed hard, feeling your hands starting to sweat.

“Y/N,” Seb said, sounding more authoritative than he would have liked. “It’s just a call. What’s the worst that could happen?”

If only you knew...

“Come on, Y/N, pick it up. If he's calling, it must be important.”

Your fingers trembled slightly until you finally decided to press the answer button.

You forced a smile, even though the only thing you wanted to do at that moment was cry and tell Sebastian the whole truth. Instead, you put the phone to your ear and answered, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

“Hello, Mark…”

“Damn, it’s about time you answered. Do you mind telling me where you are? I’ve been trying to reach you for days and days, and you’ve just ignored me.”

It’s a lie, Y/N. He hasn’t called. He’s manipulating you because, once again, he’s forgotten about you...

“I’m out,” you replied, controlling everything you said while looking at Seb, who had started talking with Matthias. “I’m having dinner.”

“And who exactly are you with?” Mark asked disparagingly, totally suspicious of you.

You gripped the phone tightly and opened your mouth to respond with the first excuse that came to your mind. But before you could, Matthias started talking too loudly with your companion:

“You’re such a gentleman with our Y/N, Sebastian! Are you sure you’re just friends?”

“Just friends, Matthias, really,” Seb replied cheerfully, although alert to you, who seemed terrified.

“Sebastian? What exact Sebastian, Y/N?”

Your blood ran cold when you heard the aggressive tone Mark was using on the other end of the phone.

“Mark, it’s not what you think…”

“Who the fuck are you with, Y/N?” Mark exploded. Even Sebastian and Matthias, who were still talking, seemed to hear the yelling coming from the phone. “Are you with Sebastian Vettel? Is it the Sebastian Vettel I’m imagining?”

“Mark, please, let me explain…”

“Explain what?” the Australian's voice started getting louder and angrier. “That you went out to dinner with him as if that was the most normal thing in the world?”

Seb, noticing the sudden change in you, both in your mood and body language, became alert. He turned his attention back to the waiter, this time giving an excuse after he placed all the plates on their table so that he could leave and give you some privacy.

Your tense posture and the fact that you became so silent, just listening to what his teammate was saying on the other side of the line, didn’t go unnoticed by him, and he knew there was more between them than what his friend wanted him to know.

“Take good care of her, Sebastian. Y/N deserves the best.”

Seb smiled kindly at Matthias’s words, and his eyes followed him until he was far enough away. His eyes then returned to you.

Something wasn’t right, and it was creating a feeling of internal rage in Seb that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Mark, I’ll call you when I get home, okay? I don’t want…”

“So you’re with him, right?” the Australian spat, not letting her finish. “Sebastian Vettel... Out of all the damn people you could be with, you’re with him…”

“Mark, please… Let me explain…” You started, your words already bordering on pleading.

“Think about the kind of girlfriend you are, Y/N,” his voice, though calm now, you knew he was about to start throwing poisoned darts that would torment you in the weeks to come. “While I’m busting my ass working, training, doing everything I can to move the damn team forward, you’re out there with the guy you claim is your best friend, going on dates. How would you feel if it were the other way around, Y/N?”

“It’s not what you think,” you whispered, unable to control the tremor in your voice.

“Oh really? Then what is it? Because to me, it looks like you're acting with another man the way you should be acting with your boyfriend. How do you think that makes me feel, huh?”

Don’t believe his words, Y/N... He’s trying to convince himself that it’s your fault just because he’s ignored you for almost a month...

“Mark, he’s my best friend, and you’ve known that since before we started dating. I haven’t hidden it from you, just like I’m not hiding anything from you now.”

Sebastian, paying close attention to every word from you, felt his heart drop at what you had said, especially the tone you used.

You mattered to Sebastian, just as he mattered to you.

“I wouldn’t take a girl to the city I grew up in if she was just my best friend, leaving my girlfriend feeling like second best, but hey, to each their own…”

You sighed, unable to stop looking at Seb, hurt by the words Mark had just said, even though you convinced yourself, despite knowing you were lying to yourself, that the Australian cared about you enough to consider you a girlfriend.

Oh my God, Y/N, you haven’t even met his parents yet…

“You’re being unfair,” was all you could say.

“No, if anyone’s being unfair here, it’s you, Y/N,” replied Mark. “You’re selfish, and you think of no one but yourself.”

“I don’t want to keep talking about this, Mark…”

“Of course you don’t. Because you don’t want Seb to know what you’re really like,” Webber said harshly. “Maybe I should tell him myself. Do you think he’d believe me? Would he still want a bitch like you if he knew the real you?”

Your stomach dropped at what Mark had just said. You didn’t know what to say; you didn’t know how to contradict him because you knew it was impossible to make him think otherwise.

The worst part? Sebastian’s face went completely pale, which made you worry even more about what your friend might now think of you.

Without saying anything else, and while you still faintly heard the Australian’s reproaches, you ended the call, throwing the phone harshly on the table and unable to control your hands, which were shaking more and more.

“Y/N…” Seb spoke, unsure of how to approach the conversation he wanted to have with you about what had just happened.

“It’s... It doesn’t matter,” you corrected yourself. The last thing you wanted was for that heated conversation you had had with Mark to ruin your time with Seb, especially your stay with the German. “Let’s eat and let everything else rest, okay? I’ve been planning this for weeks, and I don’t want to ruin it because of a conversation that never should have happened.”

Seb didn’t seem entirely convinced by your words, and even less by your attitude. He knew you were broken inside at that moment, and nothing hurt him more than knowing he didn’t know how to help you.

“Y/N, if something’s wrong... you can tell me. You know that, right?”

You tried to force a smile again, but it was impossible. Instead, tears began to fall from your eyes, and no matter how hard you tried to control them, you couldn’t.

“It’s okay, Seb, it’s nothing. I swear.”

Lie to yourself if you want, but don’t lie to him.

“Really, Y/N... No matter what you need or when you need it, I’ll be here... You’re not alone, Y/N, okay? Come what may.”

You looked at your hands, now in Seb’s. His thumb was calmly rubbing over them, something Seb knew perfectly well relaxed you when you had anxiety, like now, when you felt on the edge of a panic attack; or at least, that’s what the constant feeling of suffocation you couldn’t shake off told you, no matter how hard you tried to control your breathing and especially promise yourself that everything would be fine.

Don’t be so dramatic, Y/N, Mark’s voice echoed in your head in such a scene, making you pull your hands from the table and hide them beneath it, embarrassed.

Sebastian sighed, knowing he wouldn’t stop trying to help you, no matter how reluctant you were. If you wanted to end the contact, so be it, but that didn’t mean he’d stop trying to make sure you were okay.

“I mean it, Y/N,” the guy insisted. “Whatever it is you’re going through, you don’t have to do it alone. You’re my best friend, and best friends are there to support each other. Just like you’re doing now, with me, with Hanna,” he added.

You looked up at him again, and your chest tightened. How could he be so noble with you? How was he able to say the words you needed to hear at every moment? With Mark, you felt small, as if you didn’t matter at all, but Seb... he made you feel like a princess straight out of a fairy tale, whose ending was still to be written.

“Thank you, Seb,” you murmured, unable to take your eyes off those blue eyes that so relaxed you. “For… everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. That’s what friends are for.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that, unlike your boyfriend, if you even were, or ever had been, someone could care about you. You didn’t want to give your best friend false hopes, but the way he treated you, how it seemed like he cared...

Why did Seb make you feel like the most special person in the world when the person who was supposed to care about you the most didn’t even bother to try?

Sebastian Vettel knew you like the back of his hand, and that was exactly what scared you the most.

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