#but thanks for letting me know regardless

[aaksuitac]

[04:24 am] “what are we?”

wc: 2.3k

a/n: [fluff viktor brainrot thanks to @dilemmars. t dije q me vengaría baby, así q zas, un payback por tus podcasts jdjfjjsd. hope u like cause its ur fault]

he’s humming something you don’t quite understand, a distant tune that sounds familiar —probably you’ve heard him sing it before—, and even if you don’t recognize the melody aside from that, you can’t help but appreciate it.

his hands fidget with whatever he can reach as he sighs once more, as if he was stealing breaths from the world, heavy, almost as lidded as his eyelids. his hair falls on his eyes and in between his slender fingers while he curls the untamed strands, and you fall into an endless pit of staring at him as he scribbles, grunts, sighs, and finally pinches the bridge of his nose.

“statistically speaking, i’m starting to feel like the chances of me getting this right are adversatively proportional to the chances of you accidentally swallowing a fly.”

and you just blink, once, then twice.

he stares at you, gives you a pointed look. he can’t really say if you understood that you were just staring at him with your mouth parted, but you squint at him, snickering.

“what,” his low voice fails to ask, unbothered, knowing that you’ll answer regardless.

and you do, answering. “you haven’t even uttered a word in a while. i was just surprised that you could still talk, is all,” you grin cheekily, playing with a screw on the table as you turn left and right on the chair you’re sitting on.

viktor looks at you, and he can’t help but crack a smile. point for you.

“what you laughing for, mhh, mister science?”

“isn’t it enough to bother me from the moment i get inside the lab in the morning that you need to do it at night too?” he pretends seriousness, side-eyeing you teasingly.

“fair enough. i will consider your offer, man of fleeting memory, and take it upon myself to bother you longer.”

his mean stare wouldn’t even make a kitten mewl, but you take you hand to your heart, pretending to be wounded.

“don’t look at me like that! you’ll hurt my feewings,” you pouted, much to his amusement.

“fleeting memory?” he scoffs, accent rolling off his tongue. “when’s the last time you lost a hairtie, mmh?” he mocks.

“unfair!” you can’t help but giggle as you pretend to hide your hair from his view. point for him. “besides. i take better care of my hair than you do of yours.” you pouted smuggly. “mine looks prettier.”

“what?” he finally asks, letting out a chuckle this time as his eyes land on you for the first time in the good part of an hour.

you play with your hair to style it, and funnily pose, hands on your cheeks as you lay your elbows on the table.

“what, don’t I look pretty?” you smiled, letting out a cheeky giggle.

yes. he doesn’t say it, but his eyes haven’t dodged back to his papers just yet. it’s another point for you. so very pretty.

he doesn’t dare. he knows it. his mind, or at least the small portion of his mind that still ties him with the occasional reminder that he’s human, looks at you and wants you in a way that he’s never wanted before.

so viktor resolves in looking at you. maybe only for a moment, maybe only on those fragments of time when he’s tired enough that he looks at the stars and at the moon, yearning to reach them, only to think he’ll miss the moonlight, finally blinking to the realization that he had been staring into your eyes for too long.

his eyes are dull as he stares at you, and your expression of worry at the fact makes his heart skip a beat. “viktor?” you mumble, softly, sleepily, warily. he can’t stop staring at you, and while he supposes success and defeat can look the same in a mirror —therefore, he doesn’t really blame your confusion—, he finds no words to explain which one he’s feeling as you move your chair towards him by a push against the floor, solely accompanied by the sound of the little wheels rolling to him.

he grabs his walking stick and turns it around, pretending to poke at your chair, as if to teasingly shove it away. if you realize that he settles the walking stick just in the correct place so that your stool can’t move back, he doesn’t know. viktor just stares at the floor, to pretend that maybe the way your eyes turn tender when his reflection shines on them has nothing to do with what you’re about to say.

tsk, tsk. clueless viktor.

he’s expecting it, yes, but even with that on mind, he can’t phathom how your course of action chooses laughing as you fidget with the loose button on his vest, the second one from the top down. viktor purposely forces himself to stable his breathing, worry seeping into him, thinking that maybe you could feel his heartbeat grow faster beneath the layers of clothing.

and he feels like the remnants of a cheap ring that stain a finger blue, when comparing himself as he stands —sits— close and next to you. maybe its because you usually wear rings, and he can feel the ghost of them as your hand trails up and absentmindedly fixes his collar.

he can almost see it. your mind working, the pieces falling into place, the—

“either my eyes are deceiving me or yours have been on my lips for a rather long time.”

and he can just. blink. as if that could break how mesmerized he feels, how his heart swells up and covers his throat, how inexplicably he feels when you’re with him, near and alone. the need to know more. the need to use every trinket and screw to map out your body for him to explore, and to map out the wonders of your mind for the world to admire and maybe then find out the reason of his inability to look away.

he was so focused before. used to be.

he is. now, at you. of you. on you.

you.

another point for you. he isn’t keeping count, but something tells him he’s losing.

and as his gaze falls back to your lips in between a battle against your eyes, lost in which to stare and sink into their devotion, he hesitates again.

he thinks its funny. so funny, viktor holds back the dry chuckle that threatens to go past his lips. how to cherish you in a way that matters. how to love, the scientist wonders. is there a way that would allow him to unveil and unravel himself to you? could there be some kind of language, able to express the depth of his insides, that you, too, could understand?

what is love, anyways? is he in love with you because his coffee tastes better when it matches the dark of your pupils? because when he takes the mug from your hand and his fingers brush against yours, it seems warmer? because he notices how the dark shade in your eyes seems to mix with that of your irises, and the way the black eats the colour when you stare at him? because he claims to hate company while he studies alone, but one chair remains empty as he works, waiting for who it was meant for? because when he fails and surrenders himself to the fall, throws his walking stick against the wall, he yearns for your embrace and how your hair smells in the evenings?

is that love? and if it is, could you understand it?

if it is love, and he could say it, would such a short word convey its meaning, or was he speculating just a couple of paragraphs ago? was he assuming the meaning of what love entails?

even so. if he said it, would you repeat it? would you claim you love him because he loves you, claim to love him too? would you instead claim to love him despite everything, even the uncertainty of love itself?

…does he accept it himself?

he’s overwhelmed by the sheer amount of voices in his head. there’s too much chatter. too many questions he can’t answer, too many commas, too many question marks. too much, too much, too many.

so he silences them. makes the voices dim to a deep silence. and when his lips find themselves suddenly against yours, he finds out the true, effervescent meaning of quietness.

his hand fails to pull you closer because of the damn walking stick that gets in the way. or maybe its the chairs you’re both on that clash against each other. maybe its matter itself. for a while, its the first time viktor doesn’t want to know.

in a bold statement, he couldn’t give a fuck.

he’s kissing you.

and it should be bad because of all the unanswered questions. he’s skipping procedure. he’s gone from the fuck around to finding out and he doesn’t know where he is at this point.

what he does know, is that your hand pulls him by his necktie, and he’s gone. science? yours only. the science that he’d study all of the nights he may have left. the science behind what makes you. the science behind how your hand craddles his face while stroking his cheekbones. the science behind how you’re the closest you’ve ever been to him and somehow still not close enough. the science behind the reason why when you pull away makes his heart beat so loudly, as if it had forgotten how to a second ago.

your forehead rests against his. he shouldn’t have done that. he just… did it. maybe that was bad. was it? could it be? he had been waiting for so long too. he never thought he would…

“viktor, what are we?”

and he’s dead. he knows what the question implies, but he doesn’t want to answer. he could follow you like a lost puppy through piltover and zaun and hell knows where else. if he wasn’t dead now he would die right there and now without a second thought, because the feeling that overcame him was that love was suddenly a sentence or two away.

he knows he doesn’t dare. it’s one of the only thing he knows, one of the things he’s sure of.

but somehow, he moves. he stands up, takes the walking stick, and attempts to walk out the feeling that bounces inside him.

the walking stick always makes a noise when he walks, one with dificulties to interpret in terms of onomatopeia. not quite a thud, not deep enough to reach that quality. not a clack, for it is not entirely made of metal. still, as if it was a mix of both, he keeps walking.

viktor is nervous. thud-clack. he’s not moving far from his chair, nor is he going somewhere else. thud-clack. he still keeps pacing. thud-clack. maybe the answer is somewhere in the room. thud-clack. maybe he can reply.

thud-clack, thud-clack, thud-clack.

only does he then realize that he hasn’t answered your question. and a non-answer statement might as well be a rejection.

no. no, no, no. fuck.

he’s sitting again, but you stand up. your hair follows, long. moving and brushing against the skin of your shoulders in a way that he can’t help but claim it to be endearing.

you’re walking. you don’t make any kind of extra sound when you walk. your heels reverberate against the floor like any other, yet also they mark the beat of his heart.

he can’t reach for you. you walk too fast.

you stop when you feel the walking stick on your side. the part made for him to lean on as he walks hooks you, and you stand, not facing him.

he doesn’t use the walking stick as he stands. no, he keeps it hooked to your core, scared that you might leave. you could, he wouldn’t blame you. but he can’t allow it.

he holds it in the air as he takes one step. another step. you’re turning, surprised to see him standing, and you gasp when he lets himself fall on you.

your touch surrounds him. yes. that’s the closeness he needed. he drops the walking stick, his hands slithering on your body, pressing you against him, for no reason at all yet because it is all needs.

“what can we be?” he whispers. he takes the science approach. the viktor approach.

he isn’t too clueless after all.

he raises enough to look at your darkened, sleepy eyes. he wants to drown in them.

“if i wanted to kiss you everytime you hand me coffee, wanted you to sit on the same chair as ne and hug me from behind as I work, wanted you.” he swallows dry. “then, what can we be?”

he doesn’t want to say the words, and its petty.

it’s the 31st when the clock strickes five am and your hands travel through his hair to kiss him again. to unbalance him enough that he falls back on his chair and you follow him, sitting on his lap.

and as he kisses you, his hands worshipping the skin he can touch, the warmth he can feel through layers of clothing, he feels like maybe there’s a life worth living, so he can’t ask.

he’s heard boys and girls when he was young talk about it. “he didn’t want to celebrate our month-versary,” a girl cried as he played with his little boat, watching from afar as she was comforted by her friend.

it’s the 31st. and he can’t really ask the question now, because if he says it, how could you celebrate each month?

he moves the chair and holds you in his arms as your back falls against the table before him. maybe he can kiss you until next month. until the clock strikes and it’s the 1st.

he smiles as he kisses you, feeling you pull his necktie off. he thinks it’s the best idea he’s had in a while. and a true scientist always tries out their hypothesis.

~k.k. (☆) have fun!

aaksuitac, november 2024 ©

[vettelsvee]

YOU'RE NOT HANNA, AND NEVER WILL BE HER | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests here!

red bull sebastian vettel x reader, nico rosberg x reader

word count: 6588

summary: 2010 german gp post race party has many things in store for seb and y/n, who finally do what they both been willing to do for a long time even they're dating hanna prater and nico rosberg

warnings: everything related to gender-based violence (main trigger warning to physical and mental abuse) from nico to y/n (reminder that everything you read on my blog is fiction), curse words, "cheating", mentions of suicide and cancer

a/n: i'm quite scared and happy at the same time to be posting this fic because it's one of my favourite parts ever on history series, but still has me so worried you might not like it because of all the topics (and because history series was originally posted on wattpad and not many people liked it but don't let anyone know that pls). anyways, let me know your thoughts on this one and request anything you might like if you want pls! i'll probably be posting tomorrow another part since my town is currently on high risk alert of floods and we've been told not to leave home. let me remind you that comments and reblogs are truly appreciated! thank you so much <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

2010 Hockenheim   German Grand Prix  

You paused for a moment in front of the bathroom mirror as Valentina finished your makeup. You leaned forward to get a better look, but the your woman followed your movements with perfect synchronization and, surprisingly, without messing it all up.

Your own reflection was completely unrecognizable to you. In front of you stood a beautiful, self-assured Y/N, looking like someone who possibly had a life that, while not perfect, seemed enviable.

You feared that a simple layer of makeup could make you feel completely different from reality. It was as if all your problems had suddenly vanished, and instead had in front of you a superwoman admired by everyone, not a twenty-something whose life was falling apart.

Valentina Martínez, the girl standing beside you with whom you’d had the opportunity to become closer, was one of the Mercedes catering managers and, also, exactly the complete opposite of you. Valentina had a beauty that everyone could admire and a confidence that many, including yourself, would love to have. She could lift others' spirits with just a smile and a few words that, while not wise, were good enough to make sense.

The Argentine radiated the kind of magic you felt you lacked.

So, when Valentina’s gaze fell on yours as you continued to admire how beautiful you felt.

“Come on, Y/N!” Valentina shouted, stepping away from you and starting to bounce on her feet. “I know this isn’t your thing, but I swear you look incredibly hot.”

“Valentina…”

“None of that,” she interrupted, “you need a bit more confidence. I don’t know how you don’t have it with Nico already. He’s totally worth it!”

As Valentina’s smile grew wider, you sighed and lowered your head. You thanked her as calmly as you could for trying to transfer some of her positivity, though you knew it was somewhat of a show Valentina put on for everyone and wasn’t doing anything particularly special for you.

That was what you liked least about her: Valentina was so well-liked and appreciated by everyone that, somehow, she always played the same role, regardless of who she was with.

“I don’t know why I’m going to a party I definitely don’t want to go to,” you confessed with honesty.

Today’s race had been quite tough, and although the strategies were solid, they didn’t seem to deliver the expected results when Seb only managed to get bronze in his home race. That’s why all you wanted to do at that moment was order a good room-service dinner and eat it under the bed sheets while watching some low-budget TV show before trying to get some sleep.

"You know that stepping out of our comfort zone is the best thing," Valentina said, moving closer to you and gently taking your hands. "Besides, you're doing this for Nico," she insisted. "Remember: he's your boyfriend, and it's your duty to make him happy."

You smiled shyly even though, deep down, you shivered a bit at the tone Valentina seemed to be using with you. It was as if she wanted those last words, it's your duty to make him happy, to penetrate your mind and stay there. You tried to ignore it, as it was probably your own insecurities taking over. And, in some way, you knew Valentina wasn’t wrong. She was aware that you needed to stop being so perfectionistic and rigid, and maybe start letting yourself go a little bit more.

"You're right, yeah," you finally said. "Thanks for everything."

Without saying anything else, you left Valentina’s room to head back to your own, just a couple of doors away, not without first gathering the clothes you had been wearing earlier while your friend continued getting ready.

As you took out your room card from the small purse hanging from your shoulder and swiped it to enter, you started feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. However, the moment Nico Rosberg, your boyfriend, came out to greet you and looked you up and down, hands on his hips, all of it disappeared.

"Are you seriously going out dressed like that?" he asked, completely incredulous, pointing at your dress. "You look like a slut."

You were speechless, though part of you wanted to say everything she was feeling. Once again, fear caused you to shrink back, cautious about your actions and the possible consequences. The tone he had used on you was filled with anger and, above all, disappointment. You knew that nothing good would come from answering, so instead you held back everything you wanted to say to him.

“Nico, it's just a dress…” you tried to explain as calmly as possible, not really knowing how to make him see reason without losing your composure.

He stepped closer, and his eyes filled you with nothing but fear. You could swear that, in his fury, the bluish hue of his eyes had turned an orange-red, like fire; his pupils, fully dilated, were what sent you into internal panic.

“I don’t give a damn fuck if it’s just a dress,” he mocked you. “I don’t want you going out like that. You know there’ll be consequences.”

Be careful how you act with me, he had told you one day when you said you weren't in the mood to go out to have dinner. Since then, though you had realized many things he did to you, you’d also started to act with caution and rationality, knowing that blows could come at any moment.

You’d even considered that there was a remote possibility that you might be the one to end things, especially every time you recalled every single insult he used to hurl at you whenever you misbehaved, which had only increased in frequency in recent weeks, following your father’s death and your trip with Seb to your hometown for the funeral.

But, most especially, when the Red Bull Racing driver stayed a few days with you because he was absolutely worried about your mental health getting worse.

A lump formed in you throat as a few tears began to fall freely down your face, ruining the makeup your friend had taken so much time to apply and had turned out so well.

“If you don’t change your clothes right now and put on something that makes you look like a decent person…” He threatened, moving closer with his hand raised. “Think carefully, Y/N: I don’t want to go crazy, but I think you're forcing me to.”

You couldn’t let fear paralyze you at least, not now, as you felt his hand inching closer to your body. Another physical mark that would eventually fade, but another one that would leave a psychological one permanently.

"Please, Nico, don’t do this…” you begged, completely desperate by this point, but trying not to show it. “You said you loved me just the way I am and…”

“I just can’t believe you’re so stubborn! Don’t you get that I don’t want you going out dressed like some desperate girl who clearly wants to fuck with everyone?!” he yelled, filled with rage.

You backed up as much as you could until your back hit one of the surrounding walls. You had encountered this version of Nico before: no matter how hard you tried to reason with him, he would manipulate you until you ended up thinking it was entirely your own fault.

“Please, Nico, don’t shout. I don’t want anyone to hear us…”

“They’ll hear us if that’s what you deserve for wanting to embarrass me,” he shouted again, even more furious.

You knew the tension had reached its peak and that, from there, things would only worsen. 

Nico kept yelling at you. With your eyes squeezed shut and your hands pressed over your ears, waited for the familiar sensation of one of his limbs landing on any part of your body he fancied at that moment.

“Oh, so now you have the nerve to ignore me?”

When you heard him clearly again and saw his hand raise, you somehow found the courage to turn away and quickly slip into the bathroom, forgetting to lock the door in your haste.

“Open up right now!” he screamed.

While he pounded on the door, his yelling relentless, you leaned against the farthest wall, as if he might burst in at any moment. 

It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. 

You gasped for air in a place where there seemed to be none, your hand instinctively clutching your chest as if to shield your heart, which felt like it might burst out at any moment. You had learned to live with anxiety and panic, and both emotions had reached a point where they didn’t control each other but had fused, learning to coexist together with you.

“Nico… I’ll change my clothes,” you said, still crying, your voice choking. “I’m sorry, really,” you lied, trying to sound as convincingly as you could. “But please… don’t hurt me.”

Not again.

Your whispers seemed to have reached him because his pounding and labored breathing quieted. You hoped that the situation had calmed, and it seemed like it had.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead giving you enough time to remove the ruined makeup from your face and apply just a little mascara. A few minutes passed, enough time for you to relax and consider the possible outcomes of what might happen next, before he coldly demanded that you open the door.

You emerged and collided with his chest. Forcing yourself to look up at him, all you could see was contempt.

“Once again, you’ve disappointed me,” he stated without a hint of hesitation. “No wonder why lots of shit happens to you and people treat you so poorly. I was wrong to judge Vettel: he was right to treat you that way, and he should’ve done even more to you.”

All you could do was lower your gaze and head toward your suitcase on the floor, trying to pick something that would be ok with Rosberg’s dress code while reminding yourself that Seb did things quite bad, but he seemed to be truly sorry and apologized many times to you. The beautiful red dress, strapless and embellished across the chest, falling just above your knees, had to be replaced by another dress of the same color, but one that reached your ankles, with a much higher neckline and looser fit, so as not to highlight your nearly nonexistent curves.

“Happy now?” you asked, with as much disdain as you dared, even knowing he might match your face to her outfit.

“If you behaved like a responsible adult, yes,” he muttered as he opened the door and took your hand forcefully. “Sometimes I forget you’re only twenty-two and you have a lot to learn about life.”

Did he really know more about life than you did after all you had to go through?

That thought lingered in your mind throughout the journey, from their floor’s hallway to where the party was held, including the elevator ride where they encountered Mark Webber and a journalist from Sky Sports Germany, Eloise Schimdt. During the conversation between the four of them, though you remained silent, you had to pretend that everything was fine, even as your insides felt like they were shattering further.

As they entered the venue, the music, louder than she liked, started to throb in your ears. Your eyes opened wide to adjust to the dim lights from the spotlights, and, as you always did when in a public place with Nico, you began scanning the scene in detail.

There were more people than the space could comfortably hold. The dance floor was packed with people moving energetically, glasses in hand with the sole mission of keeping the alcohol from spilling. The bar was just as crowded, and in the center, across from shelves stocked with every type of liquor imaginable, she spotted Kimi, Fernando and Jenson with their respective partners, chatting animatedly.

But your eyes didn’t seem to waste any time and ended up settling on the guy standing a bit farther away from the others.

Sebastian was leaning back against the bar, tapping his left hand on it to match the rhythm of the song playing. In his other hand he held a glass of what she assumed was, possibly, a Jägerbomb, his favorite drink and, to him, a must-have for parties like this. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans with those Geox trainers he always wore, and his hair was completely tousled.

In that moment, you felt utterly captivated by him, and you were sure you would have dared to talk to him if his eyes hadn’t been fixed on Hanna. The blonde girl was a few steps in front of him, dancing seductively without caring where she was or who might be watching her.

You couldn’t help but wish, at that moment, to be her.

You shook off those conflicting thoughts as soon as Nico grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you, snapping you out of your trance, to head toward the bar.

"Give me a Martini," he said abruptly to the bartender, "and some water for her. She’s a bit dizzy," he lied to stop you from drinking, as he often did every time you went out.

"A Jägerbomb if you can, please," you ended up telling the guy behind the bar with your best smile.

You completely ignored the words and looks Nico was giving you. Instead, you just flashed your best smile at the bartender, who kept looking at you with concern, along with the rest of the people who weren’t too intoxicated yet and had overheard your boyfriend’s words.

"I can’t believe you’re drinking again… Can’t you control yourself or what?" he snapped.

He pulled you aggressively close, and you tried you best to ignore his words, spoken in a threatening tone directly into your ear, while you took your drink from the bar, along with his, and offered it to him.

Surrounded by people, you felt a bit safer than usual. He wouldn’t be able to hurt you, at least not physically, in front of everyone here… His reputation would be ruined, and Nico Rosberg was too proud to allow that.

So you didn’t stay silent.

"Nico, leave me alone for a few hours, please," you replied, ignoring his comments. "I’m here to enjoy the party you were so insistent on coming to, not to get scolded for wanting to have fun with you."

"Damn it, Y/N!" he expressed in frustration. "Do you always have to ruin everything or what?"

You just lifted your glass to avoid spilling your drink and walked towards the dance floor, leaving Rosberg behind, hurling insults you decided to ignore.

As soon as you found yourself among the crowd, greeting familiar faces with a friendly smile, you let yourself get carried away by the rhythm of the music. Tonight your shyness seemed nonexistent, and you could only thank the alcohol for giving you the confidence you had lost. You started to lose track of time as you danced, and though you didn’t know how, each move helped free you from the intrusive thoughts of loneliness and worthlessness, of feeling like nothing more than a mere object, which had crowded your mind at a dizzying speed.

You knew that mixing liquor with the energy drink that funded your lifestyle was only a temporary fix and that, once the effects wore off, your life would return to the completely chaotic state you had come to deserve.

Suddenly, the music stopped, as did the bodies moving on the dance floor. A spotlight focused on the stage, where Seb stood, microphone in hand and swaying. There was no doubt that he was drunk.

His swaying body made it clear that he had no idea what he was doing and that, at some point, he would end up regretting something.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said into the microphone. "But I feel like making a little pause in this party we’ve got going tonight because I want to sing a song to someone I care about a lot."

You began to feel terrible as Vettel gestured to the DJ for the music he wanted. A few seconds later, the first chords of Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars was the only sound echoing in the room.

"Babe, this song is for you, and I want you to know how much you mean to me!"

You could see Hanna smiling broadly and shrugging. You wanted to leave to cry again at the beautiful scene unfolding in front of you, of which you definitely weren’t the main character.

Was it too soon to say that the boy you were in love with dedicating a song to his girlfriend hurt worse than any blow your current boyfriend had ever given you?

Yes, it was clear. Possibly, the alcohol had already taken too strong a hold, and you could no longer control what you said or thought.

You know I'd never ask you to change  

If perfect's what you're searching for  

Then just stay the same  

So don't even bother asking if you look okay

You felt confused and didn’t know what to do, but Sebastian’s voice, trembling and making his English accent sound more German than usual, had you completely captivated.

So did Prater's reaction when the German shifted his gaze from her to you.

“This is for you,” he said, sweeping his gaze across the crowd. “I know you know who you are, and I want you to know it’s all for you, and that you deserve the absolute best.”

When I see your face  

There is not a thing that I would change  

'Cause you're amazing  

Just the way you are  

And when you smile  

The whole world stops and stares for a while  

'Cause, girl, you're amazing  

Just the way you are

You noticed Hanna moving to your side, visibly confused and clearly uncomfortable with what was happening.

“Y/N…”

She couldn’t say anything else, nor could you to her. As much as you wished to be Hanna, you couldn’t help feeling sorry for her at the strong possibility that her boyfriend was confessing his feelings to another girl right in front of her.

Or, at least, that’s what the alcohol led you to believe.

“I want you to know that, from the first moment I saw you, you’ve been in my heart,” Seb admitted, his words drawn out, uncaring about the reactions of those around them, especially his girlfriend’s or yours. “Right now, I can’t have what I want most, but I want you to know that being with you is the only wish I’ve made, and the one I’ll keep making on my birthday, until we can finally be together.”

That was the last straw. As quickly as she could, trying in vain to hold back tears and avoid drawing attention, Hanna left, thoroughly embarrassed, muttering something you couldn’t catch. Seb's voice still echoed in your ears, but you tried to ignore it because you couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Lost in thoughts, you moved as far away as you could, trying not to stumble. Then, you made your way to the bar to order another drink, as if that might somehow make you forget what had just happened.

Just before you could exchange words with the bartender who had already served you so many drinks that night, you felt someone take your wrist, though this time much more gently. You knew it wouldn’t be Nico; when you turned around and saw Seb, however, you were even more surprised.

Your eyes met, and butterflies began to flutter in your stomach. Once again, you felt at home and safe, though deep down, you were only afraid.

Without saying a word, he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours.

In that moment, you felt everything fade away. You let yourself go, unafraid of who might be watching or what might happen next. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss… your first kiss. 

Slowly, calmly, and, as you felt, full of affection, you stayed that way until you both needed air.

You felt that you had both been waiting for this moment for so long and, in a way, you deserved it, turning a simple gesture of affection into something unique and special, caring little about your partners or your sobriety.

Seb pulled back, his hands still resting on you, and your gazes shared in complicity about what had just happened. You knew he was happy but confused, just as you were. You didn’t know what to say, and knowing he didn’t either, you simply gave him a shy smile to let him know everything was okay, that he could do that a thousand times more from now on.

“Y/N…”

“What is it, Seb?”

You wanted him to tell you he loved you, that he’d left Hanna, and that he wanted you to be his new girlfriend, the love of his life.

But, instead, Seb looked at you and left you, once again, speechless:

“You’re not Hanna… and never will be her...”

After he said that, you felt nothing but your breath slipping away and the sensation of fainting.

You wanted to tell him everything you felt at that moment, but his words had hit you so hard that they only increased your confusion and pain.

All you could do was stare at him, likely making a fool of yourself with the amount of tears clouding your vision. Silence took over, and when you finally found the strength to speak, trying to hide the pain you knew your voice would show, he turned away without even saying goodbye.

"How the hell could you do that, Y/N?! You have no shame! You humiliated me in front of everyone. Kissing Sebastian like you don't care about your boyfriend... now I see what you're really up to."

You didn't have time to say anything or leave because Rosberg came running towards you, grabbing your arm with a force you'd never seen in him. It hurt, and your scream, which was more of a complaint from the pain than a surprise, was a way of expressing how much you were hurting, not just from the tight grip, but also from the shake he'd just given you.

"Nico, please, calm down..." you tried to calm him, not wanting to embarrass yourself. Some people were already looking at you, and you wished Earth would swallow you up. "It was just..."

"Don't play innocent!" he shouted too loudly. "You thought I wouldn't find out?! I saw you kissing that piece of shit who only wants to fuck you until he's bored of you," he said, referring to Seb. "Now everyone here knows what you really are: a whore! And I'm glad, Y/N… You have no idea how glad I am."

The music suddenly stopped blasting, but your boyfriend's anger didn’t.

"Nico... I love you, really," you tried to speak. "It was just a moment of weakness..."

The moment of weakness was exactly what you were feeling now, making him believe you were truly in love with him when, in fact, you were only staying in the relationship because you were afraid your reputation wouldn’t make it out alive. 

"You say you love me? Don't make me laugh! If you really loved me, you wouldn’t act like this."

You wanted to tell him that you thought the same about him, but you held back, paralyzed again by the fear that your mind was processing all the bad things that could happen.

"Nico, come on. You don’t have to act like this. We can talk about this civilly."

As you saw Edward, Vettel’s personal trainer, appear, and pull Nico a bit away from you, a little peace returned to your body. You gave him a grateful look, to which he just answered by nodding.

"You don’t have to get involved, Eddie!" your boyfriend shouted. "Stay out of our fucking business!"

"You know you don’t have to treat her like this," he said seriously.

"She’s a whore, can't you see it?" Nico spat, pointing at you. "Disgusting little girl..."

"Nico, I understand you're angry," Patterson spoke again, after the German’s words, "but neither of you is in a state to talk about this, and this is not the right place," he said, referring to the curious looks around them.

You could only constantly whisper for them not to fight anymore, while deep down you prayed to take you away from all of this and bring you back to the hotel.

"I don’t care what you say," Eddie started. "I'm taking Y/N. I don’t think being here is the best thing for her."

After saying that, he stood behind you and guided you, putting his hand on your back, toward his car. At that moment, your desperation was so great that you didn’t even think about whether he was in any condition to drive.

The way back to the hotel, less than ten minutes away, felt eternal.You hadn’t drunk much because you didn’t like it, but not being used to it was enough for a couple of curves and a badly taken roundabout to make you gag and feel like vomiting.

Slowly, the shock began to set in, and you started to act on autopilot mode, following the directions of the man accompanying you, except when he told you it would be best for you to sleep in his room that night.

You didn’t know why, but that set off alarms in your confused brain. The last thing you wanted was to add fuel to the fire by sleeping with another man who wasn’t your boyfriend just to protect you.

"Thanks for everything, Eddie, really, but I think it would be best if I went back to my room to sort things out with Nico."

The Brit didn’t seem to agree with you.

"Y/N, I know it’s hard, but I don’t think it’s best for you to share space with him tonight," he was honest.

"I just want to talk to him and try to put an end to this," you insisted, still knowing you weren't right.

"And I understand you, really, but right now everything is too fresh, and the best thing is for you to rest and let the drunkenness wear off," he said, placing one of your arms over his shoulders. "Come on, I’ll take you to my room."

You decided not to argue anymore because it would be in vain, so you let yourself be guided while he lectured you about how you shouldn’t be intimidated by Nico and how you deserved someone better than him after what had happened at the club that night.

"Edward, Y/N. Good night, guys."

You lifted your gaze and saw another Brit. Jenson was standing in front of you, coming out of the elevator you were about to take. You were greatly surprised that he wasn’t with his girlfriend, but didn’t want to get involved; your alcohol-soaked self, however, wanted to gossip.

"Where are you two going?" he asked, crossing his arms and blocking the elevator doors so they couldn’t pass.

"I’m... taking Y/N to my room," Eddie revealed, stammering a bit for no clear reason. "She’s had a rough time, and it’s best that she doesn’t see Nico’s face tonight."

"And you think the best thing is that you take her to your room?"

Button’s features went from relaxed to a kind of aggression you had never seen in him. It’s not like you had spent much time or had many conversations together, but you knew the situation you were now involved in wasn’t what you had thought it was.

Edward Patterson stayed completely silent.

"Do you want me to call someone to be with you?" Jenson asked you directly, giving you no other option. "Y/N," he insisted again, "who do you want me to call to stay with you tonight?"

"Britta… please," you said as best as you could despite your discomfort.

To your surprise, while Jenson dialed the phone number of the woman you now considered your friend, Eddie let go of you and reluctantly pushed the driver, still leaning against the elevator frame, to leave. He didn’t even take the time to say goodbye to you, something that seemed to upset Button quite a bit.

"Hello, is this Britta?" Jenson began, speaking into the phone. "Great, yes. It’s Jenson. I’m with Y/N, and she asked if you could help her," he started explaining. "I don’t know much about what happened, except that she’s not feeling well and needs help from someone she really trusts," he clarified.

After exchanging a few more words, Jenson led you back to the lobby, where Britta appeared just a few minutes later in a bathrobe, espadrilles, and her hair tied up in a completely unusual way. You had never seen Roeske like that, and all you could do was laugh.

"Come on, let’s go already," Britta said, linking her arm with yours as if you were two old ladies heading to bingo. "This is how I want to see you: laughing, not crying."

When Britta opened the door to her room, you immediately ran and threw yourself onto the bed. Your whole body hurt, and you weren’t sure if it was from the emotions of the night or because the alcohol was hitting its peak.

Whatever it was, you knew perfectly well that lying completely still, face up, and counting the total number of tiles on the ceiling, pointing at them one by one with one eye closed and your tongue sticking out was what was making your hostess laugh.

"Come on, Y/N, get up," Britta asked gently. "Do you mind if I help you get changed? It’s time to put on your pajamas."

You nodded as you sat up and moved to the foot of the bed.

Next, Britta unzipped the dress, and you noticed how she averted her gaze to give you some privacy while offering a nightgown.

"Right now, I’d love for Seb to be the one undressing me to fuck me. God... how I’d love Seb to make me scream now..."

Had you said that out loud?

"What did you just say?"

Britta’s muffled shout and the tone in which she asked, while turning her back without caring whether you had already put the garment on, making you realize that yes, you had said that out loud.

Your first time being drunk was going to be, definitely, a night to remember. Now, you just felt like saying those kinds of things, and you didn’t care at all about having a boyfriend… if he could even be called that.

"Oh…" you said, stretching the last syllable. "Didn’t you know it?"

"Know what?"

By the tone of voice, it seemed Britta thought it was related to the sudden thing you had said.

"Seb and I kissed," you told her, starting to laugh like a lovesick teen.

"This is the alcohol on you, I’m sure of it," Britta said, running to get a wet towel and starting to wipe it across your face. "You mean you and Nico kissed," she tried to correct you. "Seb is dating Hanna, and you’re dating Nico, remember?"

You started shaking your head constantly, about to collapse to the floor. A laugh started escaping you as you couldn’t control it.

"No, no, no, no," you denied while also wagging your finger. "Seb and I kissed. Nico’s an asshole."

"Y/N, you really should go to sleep, you’re not..."

"Of course I’m fine!" you said enthusiastically, getting up from the bed and standing in front of Britta.

The truth was that you only felt fine because of the effect alcohol was having on you. If it wasn’t for that, you would be crawling on the floor crying because you knew you had reached a point where you couldn’t pretend your life was perfect anymore.

"Do you really not believe me when I say that not only did Seb kiss me, but it was the best kiss of my life?"

You knew you were putting Britta in a tough spot, especially considering that the woman was probably closer friends with Hanna than with you.

"And Hanna?" Britta demanded to know. "Was she there, or had she left?"

"Oh, she was there?" you tried to pretend the best you could, using expressions that clearly showed otherwise. "I didn’t know..."

Before you could continue speaking, Britta ran to grab her phone and started making calls. You sat back down, crossing your legs and swaying while watching the blonde desperately cursing in German, since none of the contacts she called were answering.

It was possible that Seb and Hanna were busy, probably having sex. Your drunk self only wished she was in Hanna’s place.

"The only ones who tell the truth are kids and drunks, you know?"

Britta stared at you after those words. It seemed like you needed to say that phrase to make her believe you.

"Are you serious...?" Britta asked.

"What, Britta?" you insisted, urging her to speak.

"Did you really kiss Sebastian?"

You nodded.

"Yes," you confirmed. "Well, I mean, he was the one who took my face and kissed me," you corrected yourself. "Do I owe anyone something, like he owes Hanna?"

You were getting a bit defensive, and you knew it was making Britta nervous.

"Yes! You owe Nico, your boyfriend," Britta replied, giving you a harsh dose of reality.

"I don’t want Nico," you confessed. "At least, not in the way I think I should. He... I don’t know, Britta. I think he’s what I deserve. I try to understand why, but I know that his insults and those things he says to me make me a better person somehow."

You could see Britta go pale. Also, you were starting to feel worse; after all, it was the first time you had opened up about your feelings to someone since the journal Seb gifted you for your birthday last didn’t count as a personal therapist.

Britta usually had words for everything, but that day, you seemed to have left her speechless.

"Y/N..." Britta began, carefully choosing her words. "You’re a good person. You’re just scared."

"Maybe," you replied, trying not to make it a big deal. "And you, are you scared?"

"Of course. Everyone’s afraid of something."

"I’m afraid of being alone," you admitted, lowering your head because you were starting to cry again for the umpteenth time that day. "And I’m afraid of losing Nico. I know no one will ever love me, not better or worse, than he does."

Britta didn’t know what to say, and you felt bad for having to be in her room, drunk, sad, while your “friend” was putting up with you, possibly mediating between her client and her client’s partner.

That’s why you made a move to leave. Fortunately, Britta wouldn’t let you.

"Sit down, Y/N, and let it all out," Britta demanded.

And that’s exactly what you did. You told Britta everything, not just about what had happened since you started dating your current boyfriend, but about your entire life. Living with a mentally sick mother after her accident, her subsequent suicide, their move to Barcelona. Her father’s cancer and how it had worsened in less than two years. All the things Rosberg had said and done to you, even forcing you to do certain stuff you were clearly uncomfortable with.

You cried like you never had before when you told Britta about your first time, reluctantly, on a luxury yacht in Monaco’s seas, and how it gave you nightmares almost every night to the point where she was scared to fall asleep.

You could tell that Britta was truly worried when you started biting your lower lip, and a little tic appeared in your right eye.

"Have you talked to anyone about this?"

"Do you know I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her?"

You were fully aware that you had just avoided answering a crucial question, but you didn’t care at all. You were tired of talking about your burdens and your current life; from now on, you would focus entirely on your future and try to solve and finish once and for all all the problems that made your life a mess.

"But what are you saying, Y/N?" Britta asked, desperate.

"That’s exactly what I would have liked to ask Seb, but he left and Nico messed things up," you revealed, stretching your arms out and pointing to the marks, now red, that were the same shape and size as Mercedes’ driver’s fingers. "Great, yeah," you said ironically.

"But..."

"Do you think if I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her, I might have a chance to date Seb?"

Your question left Britta speechless again, unable to find the words. As Britta struggled to speak, you started playing with your fingers. Giving up, you laid on the bed, your back to Britta, clutching a pillow with the clear intention of falling asleep.

"Why are you telling me this?" Britta asked in a whisper, almost with... pity.

"Because I want Seb," you revealed, letting out a sob because, at last, you had been able to confront and reveal your confusing feelings for a guy who didn’t love you, and never would. "I’m in love with Seb, and it hurts knowing he’ll never love me back, and I know I’ll have to move on sooner or later."

Britta was about to speak, but you took the words from her before she could.

"Before you say anything else, take advantage of me and ask me anything you want: I’m a bit drunk because I’m not used to drinking."

You could tell Britta sighed, likely having lost all patience with you.

"You know... you know that Seb...?"

But then Britta stopped talking. You stood there for a while, staring at the red curtains that covered the window, waiting for the woman to continue. When she didn’t, you turned around:

"You know exactly what about Seb, Britta?" you asked, adjusting yourself on the bed, still hugging the pillow.

"Seb and you need to talk," Britta told you, leaving you speechless. "And when you do that, I’m convinced that you’re going to live the life you both deserve."

"But..."

Britta started to lie you down on the bed again, tucking you in under the linen sheets. Your yawns became more frequent, and after she kissed your forehead just like her mother used to do before your life was destroyed, your eyelids grew heavy.

"I know you won’t remember this tomorrow," Britta’s voice flooded your ears as you curled up into yourself. "But, to Seb, it’s more than obvious that you’re not Hanna and you’ll never be… And that’s exactly why that stupid, but incredible guy, has fallen truly, madly, deeply, in love with you."

You couldn’t tell if Britta’s words were already a dream, or if Morpheus was pulling you into his arms. 

"The day you stop doubting your worth, the world will be at your feet, Y/N. Sebastian has been telling me that and his closest people since you two spent the night together the day before his maiden win in Monza."

[professorsnape394]

DAY 12: Loving in Secret

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Rating: 😡

Prompt: Victory

Summary: Y/N is determined to get Severus to admit to his feelings for her.

A/N: Obsessed with Jealous Snape!! I think I may have to write more like this, let me know if that's something you might be interested in.

Warnings:  Jealousy. Duels. Injury.

Word Count: 3194

Credits to Gif Creator.

Meeting with the Order of the Phoenix had always a tiresome day for Severus. While he dreaded spending the day in the home of his childhood bully and long-time enemy, Sirius Black, he was grateful for the time he was able to spend with the one woman who brought a smile to his face.

Y/N had been seeing Severus for a few months now, though they had never actually made anything official. They agreed to a casual relationship at first, but they both knew there was more to it than that. Her feelings for the wizard only grew with each passing day, but still Severus refused to admit he felt anything other than lust for the young woman.

Still, she revelled in the nights they spent together, however fleeting they seemed. It was hard for them to gain any alone time together given her less than ideal living situation with his childhood enemy coupled with the fact he refused to invite her into his home. Still, they managed to steal a few moments together here and there.

Today’s meeting was particularly agonising for Severus, nothing of note being said that he didn’t already know. Mad Eye’s voice faded into a singular drone, as Severus leaned back lazily in his chair. His thoughts on nothing but the woman across from him. It had been too long since he had felt her hands on his body; the softness of her skin intertwining with his rough calloused hands, he missed the sweetness of her mouth on his, the sound of her gasps when his hand found its way between her legs, but he especially missed the drooling mess she became when he fucked her hard and rough, his hand covering her mouth to ensure they wouldn’t make a sound.

Y/N tried hard not to look in Severus’ direction to avoid suspicion, regardless she could still feel the way his gaze raked over her body, his mind wandering to places they should not go at a time like this. A red-hot flush crept its way up her neck, the thought of Severus checking her out so publicly sent a rush straight to her core. She cleared her throat and sat up straighter, attempting to dissuade Severus’ glances. He did not take the hint.

Idly pacing around the room like a hyperactive dog, Severus couldn’t help but feel irritated by the mere presence of Sirius Black in his own home, though when the man turned his attention on Y/N his blood began to boil.

Sliding up behind her, Black placed a hot mug of tea in front of Y/N; in innocent gesture from any other, but Snape knew Black always had a motive. The young witch flashed his rival a sweet smile, thanking him for her beverage. Confirming his suspicions, Sirius lingered behind Y/N resting a heavy hand on each of her shoulders, gently massaging. Severus had to hold back his primal instincts, forcing himself not to curse the man for even thinking he can touch what is his. Sirius didn’t move his hands for the remainder of the meeting, neither did Severus’ gaze on them.

The meeting continued for a further forty-five minutes before its members were finally free. However, Molly Weasley had insisted she make everyone a meal before they left, so the house was particularly more crowded than normal.

Y/N shot Severus a look, telling him to meet her upstairs while everyone else seemed preoccupied with chatter. The Potion’s Master wasted no time hesitating, moving the second she gave the order, stealthily disappearing up to her bedroom.

Y/N was not so lucky in her escape. Sirius watched on closely as she swiftly exited the room.

“Oh, thank God.” Y/n gasped at the sight of Snape standing in the middle of her bedroom. Closing the door she hurried towards him, throwing her hands over his head and pulling her body close to his. Instinctively Severus hands fell to her hips, though quickly began to roam when her lips met his.

Balancing on her tiptoes to match his height, she moaned into his mouth.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

“It’s been too long.” His words were muffled by her neck as he kissed his way down to her collar bone, nipping the skin with his teeth once or twice.

She let out a single sharp gasp; the kind he loved so much and he found himself dreaming of regularly.

“How much time do we have?” Severus rasped, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had gone awry.

“Not long. Molly said dinner will be out shortly.”

“We’ll have to be quick then.”

Y/N groaned at the prospect. They were forever having to rush their time together, just once she wanted to be able to savour her time with him, maybe then he would actually stick around after sex and she might have the chance to discuss their feelings for each other. As it were, the couple were resigned to hot and heavy meet ups in secret, providing Severus with the perfect excuse to keep her at arm’s length.

“Don’t you think we should just tell people? I’m tired of sneaking around behind everyone’s back.”

Severus nuzzled into the crook of her neck, sucking softly on her skin.

“We’re not telling anyone, because there is nothing to tell. No one needs to know that we’re sleeping together, Y/N.”

She pulled away from him to look him in the eye.

“But what if it becomes more?”

“It won’t.” He stated firmly.

“But –“

“We’ve spoke about this Y/N.”

Her heart dropped despite expecting nothing less; Severus had always made his intentions with her very clear; it was foolish of Y/N to hope otherwise.

Snape made to unbuckle his belt, just as there came a knock at the door.

The pair exchanged a panicked glance.

“Y/N.” Sirius called from the other side of the door. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, thanks. I just came up to look for my wand.” She attempted to dissuade him.

“Do you need any help looking?” The door handle twitched under his grip.

“No, thanks! I’ll be down in a minute.”

The door, thankfully, remained closed. Sirius footsteps faded as he made his way back down the stairs.

Severus was on her in an instant, his hands raking through her tangled mess of hair, capturing her mouth in an aggressive kiss.

Y/N moaned once more, savouring the way his tongue dominated her mouth.

“I have to go.” She sighed, reluctantly. Sirius would be expecting her back down any second, if she didn’t show, he was sure to come up again.

It was Severus’ turn to groan; the tightness of his trousers had become almost too much to bear. It had been so long since their last session, and now who knows when they would next get a moment together.

“I’m sorry. Stay for dinner, I might be able to escape after that.”

Reluctantly, Severus agreed to her offer. Promising to follow shortly behind once she left.

Unsurprisingly, the kitchen was swarmed with people. Countless Weasley’s and numerous other Order members took up the majority of seats around the table. Y/N and Sirius opted to stand on the outskirts of the table, knowing there would be plenty of left overs for them to have once everyone left. Which allowed Severus to slip into the remaining seat practically unnoticed.

Severus sat straight in his chair, arms crossed, eyes laser focused on the couple huddled on the other side of the room. Y/N and Sirius leaned against the kitchen cabinets, giggling together like a couple of school children. Snape watched as Sirius leaned into his friend, brushing aside the loose strand of hair, and whispering something in her ear. Y/N threw her head back and cackled to the sky. It occurred to Snape you had never laughed so hard at anything he had said before, sending a burning feeling of jealousy to his gut. He watched on as Y/N placed her had on the centre of Sirius chest, an attempt to steady herself from her bout of hysteria. Severus jaw clenched.

Finally able to calm herself down, Y/N stalked the length of the table, checking out the food on offer. Severus eyes followed the woman intensely until she came to a stop directly behind him.

“Something bothering you?” She whispered in his ear, noticing the tension coursing through his body.

Severus remained silent, already wary that by standing next to each other they were exposing themselves. She could tell her relationship with Sirius pissed Severus off, but he would never admit it. If he did, he would have to tell her why it bothered him so much. And she knew he was not ready to admit to anything yet. Y/N stole a forkful of carrots from his plate and continued her round of the table.

Sirius joined the woman in her hunt for scraps, the two of them lurking around like a couple of vultures. While, Y/N was simply focused on stuffing as much food into her mouth as possible, Sirius’ attention remained solely on her. When she bent to stick her fork into a bowl of roast potatoes, Sirius rested a hand on the small of her back, keeping it there to draw her closer to him. Severus watched on furiously, his nostrils flaring at the sight. Y/N bit into a large roast potato and moaned appreciatively. Severus mind wandered to an inappropriate place and it was clear Sirius’ did the same.

“My God, Molly, those potatoes are amazing. What did you put in them?”

Severus went deaf to the world as Y/N held her forkful of potato out for Sirius to take a bite from. He took hold of her wrist, bringing her hand up to his mouth, and made intense eye contact while he slipped the potato from its tines.

Severus’ hands balled into fists and his teeth ground together. It was everything he could do to stop himself from lashing out at the man he already despised.

 Either this woman was deliberately trying to drive him mad or she truly saw nothing wrong with her actions; either option was maddening to him.

Severus almost hit his breaking point was when Sirius used his thumb to swipe a drop of gravy from the corner of Y/N’s mouth, bringing it back to her lips to lick.

All idle chatter stopped at the sound of Snape’s chair screeching across the hardwood floors. At risk of exposing their casual relationship, Severus stormed out of the kitchen.

Y/N wasn’t shocked by his reaction. In fact, she was so close to breaking him it almost made her giddy. There was no hiding his feelings for her when this was how he reacted.

After dinner, Y/N helped Molly clear up while everyone else retired to the Livingroom. No one dared speak a word to the brooding Potion’s Master who sat stewing in a single armchair by the fire. To be honest everyone was shocked he was still here, but no one was brave enough to question it; Except Sirius.

“Still here, Snivellus? Thought you’d have slithered off back to that hovel of yours.”

“At least I’m able to slither anywhere, Black. You set one foot outside, and it’s straight back to Azkaban. Tell me, who’s a better roommate? Y/N or the dementors.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m that bad, Severus.” Y/N scoffed at his comparison, shooting him a stern glare as she returned from the kitchen.

“I wasn’t meaning like that.” He sighed to himself.

“Don’t worry about it. Sirius and I have a good thing going here, let’s hope he won’t be returning to Azkaban any time soon, shall we?”

Severus said nothing. He hated the fact you lived with his worst enemy, but he what he hated even more was you defending Sirius over him. The sly grin on the other man’s face showed he had won this round.

Y/N perched on the arm of the chair next to Sirius, finding every other chair occupied.

“Here. Take my seat.” Severus jumped up from his spot on the armchair.

“No need, Snivellus.” Sirius stopped Y/N in her tracks. “There’s plenty of room for her right here.” He budged up a few inches, patting the space next to him. His gaze remained fixed on Snapes, a challenge that said whoever’s offer you took would be the victor.  

Eyes flicking between the two men Y/N had a choice to make. While she didn’t like to see Severus defeated by childhood bully, the obvious answer was to sit with Sirius. Not only would everyone get a seat, but doing so would further rile Snape up, maybe then he would be ready to admit to his feelings for her.

“Sit back down, Severus. I’ll be fine here.” She slipped into the edge of the couch; her thighs pushed right up against her friend’s.

Sirius’ grin grew wider at the second small victory. He placed his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest.

Severus’ jaw clenched once more. The sight of Sirius resting his arm on her so confidently had him seeing red.

“Has it ever occurred to you, Black, that the woman might not want your grubby paws all over her.” He spat.

“That woman has a name, and a voice too come to think of it. I’m sure if Y/N felt in any way uncomfortable around me she would say as much.”

“Perhaps she is just being polite.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Are you jealous, Snape?” Sirius laughed, realisation hitting him. “Are you jealous that a girl like Y/N is not repulsed by the thought of me touching her, as she would you.” Sirius placed an arm on Y/N’s knee to drive home his point.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Snape scoffed.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Severus fought back the urge to lash out at him, standing slowly from his chair once again.

“It seems I have overstayed my welcome.” His tone was eerily calm.  

Sirius smirked, basking in his victory.

“You always have been all bark, Severus. Next time you’re here remember your place in this house; you are not wanted.”

“The next time I’m here, Black.” Severus sneered. “I’ll be laughing at your pathetic attempts to win Y/N over, Then I’ll take her upstairs and fuck her until the only thing she knows how to say is my name. MY name Black, not yours.”

The room fell silent at the Professor’s words, everyone’s attention focusing in on him and Sirius.

Molly threw a hand over her mouth in shock, quickly trying to usher her children from the room.  

Sirius stood from his seat, pointing his wand in the direction of the Potion’s Master.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“I said; I’m going to fuck her in your house, while she’s screaming my name and begging for more because she loves the feel of my cock so much.”

A .. flash of light shot from the end of Sirius’ wand, an electric pulse buzzing through the air. Snape deflected it with ease.

The room quickly emptied, leaving only Severus, Sirius and Y/N remaining.

Sirius waited for Snape to take it shot, but it never came. This only angered Sirius more, causing him to send another handful of spells flying his way. Severus deflected each one with a simple movement of his hand.

“You think I’m lying?” Severus taunted. “Ask her yourself.”

Sirius gaze flicked over to Y/N for no more than a second before he continued raging spells in Snape’s direction.

Y/N finally shook herself from her frozen state.

“Sirius stop!” She yelled, watching him send endless curses Snape’s way.

Her friend took no notice of her, continuing to his battle with her lover.

Bored of remaining on defence, Severus finally threw a spell at Sirius. The marauder managed to deflect but stumbled back from the sheer force of the curse.

In an instant there were spells flying back and forth between the men while Y/N watched on helplessly from the side lines.

Seeing Sirius weaken against Severus’ power, had Y/N panicking that someone was truly about to be hurt. Knowing the two shared a sordid history, it was unlikely that either wizard would accept defeat before the other was forced to submit.

“Severus, please stop this.” She ran at him, pulling roughly on his robes to get his attention. “Stop!”

Distracted that Y/N might get caught in the crossfires of the duel, Severus attempted to push her behind him and out of the line of fire. But to no avail, the witch fought against his arm, refusing to surrender to his protection.

Y/N rounded on Severus, pushing roughly at his chest in a last-ditch effort to end the fight.

Despite being unable to hold off Snape’s spells for much longer, Sirius refused to give up without a fight; his spells coming in faster with each passing second.

Losing focus on the battle, Severus’ attention was taken over by trying to keep Y/N safe. Abandoning his wand, he gripped the woman by her wrists and dragged her to the side. Foolishly Snape did not consider that Black would not have the same concern for her safety and another spell headed in their direction. Snape pulled Y/N tight to his chest, covering her with as much of his body as he possible.

Severus winced as pain lashed across his arm. His now cut up sleeve becoming wet with blood.

“Severus.” Y/N yelped, grabbing onto his hand. “Are you hurt, let me see it.”

She took Snape’s arm in his examining the severity of his wounds. They were deep and showed no signs of clotting.

Sirius watched on from the other side of the room, panting breathlessly with exertion. Y/N spun on him, furiously.

“What the hell did you do?”

Sirius remained speechless.

“You shouldn’t have gotten in the way.” Snape snapped, regaining her attention.

“I was trying to stop you from hurting each other.”

“That worked out well, didn’t it?” He glared down at her.

“Stop it, Severus.” She warned, knowing he was trying to deflect from the fact he was hurt.

“I’m sorry.” He admitted, stroking her cheek with his good hand.

“He was telling the truth?” Sirius finally huffed, watching the scene unfold between the two.

“Sirius, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you but-“

“Are you together?”

Severus and Y/N exchanged a hesitant glance.

“No.”

“Yes.” Y/N turned to Severus in shock.

“But Severus you said-“

“Forget what I said. I’ve spent all night watching what it looks like to have another man flirting with you because he thinks you’re single. I refuse to spend another moment watching that. You’re mine, Y/N, in every way that counts. And I want everyone to know it.”

“Do you mean it?” She looked up at him hopefully.

Severus nodded firmly, tucking that one rouge piece of hair behind her ear before bringing his mouth to hers.

“Then let’s go tell everyone. And maybe heal your arm while we’re at it?”

“Whatever you want.” He smiled.

Sirius may have gotten the upper hand in the duel, but ultimately it was Severus who was victorious in this battle.

[awsugar]

And I forgot about the DRUMS!!! I think this is an album they may have been working on for years. I think they are going for a magnum opus

yea so i read this went you sent it at 6am cause ive been out of work sick for a few days now and my sleep is allll messed up. and i tinhatted EXTREMELY close to the sun on this one. but i kind of think im cooking. so let me explain.

also ill just say i think because we know somethings coming but we dont know what BUT we know there are threads throughout somehow connecting things from years prior like. all tinhatting is plausible until proven otherwise. if we want to draw a connection between two things we CAN. and i think thats why im so on board with mcr5 now when i havent been since 2019. bc ive done this before. i was in the trenches for the danger days rollout/promo and the transmissions on the website and everything and THAT was one of the most exciting times of my life and THIS reminds me of that. im glad people never gave up on mcr5 but they never gave me ENOUGH before now to really run with. and now they have and its a free for all. THIS is what being an mcr fan is about. tbh. this is what this fandom has been missing for AGES. when they dont give us teasers and lore and crpytic messages we devolve into like theorizing and arguing with each other about who they are as people. but this is the basis of mcr community to me....getting together with your pals inside your phone and inside your laptop (who now have grown ito irl friends for so many of us) and dissecting every shred of info they give us. thank god for my chemical romance.

ANYWAY sorry that. went down a path i didnt intend when i started. so yes um so what you said about them going for a magnum opus. let me tell you a little story. when i was in my first year of being a my chem fan, i was 13, i became QUICKLY obsessed, first with the black parade and then after i spent i think 2 months straight listening to nothing but the black parade on repeat all day every day (literally) i ventured into their other stuff and got like really sucked in to everything else, reading articles and interviews and watching every video of them youtube had to offer and talking about them 24/7 on the forums instead of doing homework, i would sneak the family laptop into my room at night so i could keep reading about them and talking about them instead of having to go to sleep it was THE most exhilarating and exciting time of my life. anyway. i remember (16 years later) reading a specific review of the black parade that said something like "my chemical romance will never top this album and they know it" and i STILL REMEMBER sitting on the couch and crying over it. because i had never listened to music that had made such an impact on me as the black parade IN MY LIFE. nothing had ever made me feel that way and that strongly as listening to that album. you know how we all always say we wish we could listen to my chem for the first time again just to have that feeling again. that was me. i had never experienced an album of their when it came out and i felt like the author of the article was telling me that i would basically never acheive that high again. it was devastating. i promise this is relevant. bc regardless of your PERSONAL FAVORITE my chem album, it is generally agreed upon that the black parade is their magnum opus. it just is. both in scale and musically and its impact on pop culture and its the best known to a general audience.

so you say they're going for a magnum opus. when the black parade is DEAD. they killed it. (in the new lore they were sent to the MOAT which i assume is some kind of exile and stripping of their status as the national band)

and so i started thinking about "in the face of extermination say FUCK YOU" and i think this applies here two-fold actually. MAYBE 3-fold. on one hand, in-universe. extermination being the concrete age, the dictator holding the people down and exterminating their livelihood. but also the extermination of the black parade! and then - irl - we have the extermination of mcr's chances of doing something huge again like this. music publications resigning them as soon as the album came out to never achieving something as epic and grand as that again.

and the FUCK YOU being, the opposition of the dictator from the people, the black parade being reinstated but? maybe they have plans to overthrow the dictator? IRL mcr saying fuck you, we can actually use the concept that you said was the best we would ever do, completely turn it on its head, and make something even more grandiose and epic and MAGNUM OPUS.

and also hail just reminded me obv of the UNKILLABLES drumhead in sydney. which both relates to franks personal experience there but also like. with this concept of in the face of extermination say fuck you. along with his end of tour post being a cockroach, notoriously unkillable! notoriously a target for extermination!!!!

god theres so many layers to this but i needed to get it off my chest do you still like me

[foodtruckery]

ive returned because your writing haunts me and i need to dig into your brain about combat baby idk how deeply youve thought about like. the whole extent of this au so if im asking about stuff that you dont want to focus on for it forgive me but im so curious how do things go down with bill?? like hes still an issue here do they just try the unicorn hair and stan scams his way through (and ford is so shocked and lowkey turned on impressed they bang after) or with everything else happening does ford (stupid genius he is) just sort of forget bill can still enter stan's dreams even if hes got the metal plate and stans like "hey why am i dreaming about a dorito obsessed with your portal"

and im guessing ford would not be down to make his home a tourist trap so do you think stan would just help with the research? or would his insecurities about being dead weight to ford push him to try and find his own way of income?

and and what about the town?? do they have to awkwardly pretend theyre father and son or uncle and nephew or something? because sure they could pretend theyre not related but they still look pretty similar. ford just looks like an older, nerdier stan so i think that would be people's first assumption (ford seething quietly as susan flirts with stan. stan just thinks fords feeling uncomfortable in town because hes a hermit until theyre alone and they have a repeat of their highschool days with ford hissing in his ear and demanding to know what he was expecting to happen with susan. stan trying to answer but hes a little distracted at the time)

and also with ford being back would they ever run into fiddleford again? either him in his cult days or maybe already halfway to losing his mind. depending on where he is mentally im sure the interaction could be either pretty hostile or sympathetic

ive grabbed you by the ankles and am attempting to shake you upside down to try and empty your pockets for scraps of this au because it consumes me

-🐶

waaaaaah thanks for being patient with me friend! you know i ALWAYS love to see you with the big fuckin questions and ideas. and i have been THINKING about this one cause, tbh, i finished combat baby in a couple of days and went “GET OUT OF MY SIGHT” and threw it at y’all and did not think much about it after that! until i came over here and started chatting with y’all at least hahaha.

the bill issue is like a whole thing right? and i was definitely wondering how the time travel on one side but not the other might impact him/slow him down. but i also do think it’d be kind of fucking hilarious if stan starts dreaming about bill but like. doesn’t say anything and doesn’t even think it’s a big deal because. you know. they’re just weird dreams. and at this point, stan’s done enough drugs and been through the ringer with stress and shit that it doesn’t even occur to him to question having bizarre dreams about some little geometric freak trying to be nice to him. whaaat? a MATH SHAPE for fucking NERDS in a gay little sweater vest BOW TIE is COMPLIMENTING him in his dreams???

as far as stan’s concerned, his subconscious got REALLY hung up on the whole “ford said some nice shit to me while we were fucking” and just hasn’t let that go yet. which i think would also drive bill up the fucking wall. like stan would have been the harder nut to crack regardless, but to keep getting accused of being stan’s mental manifestation of his brother fucking praise kink???? (which of course invites the whole question of bill going fuck it, and just leaning into that, but i don’t think he’d be as adept that mimicking ford for stan as he was at mimicking stan for ford, so)

ngl, i do love the unicorn hair play, tho. fun fact! i have no idea if i’ll actually write it or not, but i’ve toyed with the idea of doing a role reversal with ford coming back out of the portal still in this 30’s and finding stan and everything else having moved forward 30 years. and the unicorn hair felt like a good way to potentially address the Bill Issue i was getting stopped up on there! but like. i also could absolutely see older!ford convincing stan to wear a collar necklace of unicorn hair to keep bill out of his head.

but i loooooove the idea of them getting mixed up with fiddleford’s cult shit. i don’t even know wtf i’d DO with that but conceptually i love it. cause they’re starting to keep an eye on the townspeople, right? and even if stan’s come up with some kinda story to explain there being kinda sorta two of them now, he wouldn’t know not to be outspoken about the other weird shit happening in town. y’know, on top of being some of the weird shit happening in town. something something, stan getting snatched like lazy susan did over the gnome incident, but ayyye that shit hits really fucking wrong when you’ve actually been kidnapped in the past already and had to chew your way out of a fucking car to get free. i think that’s be neat!!

and especially if we consider fidds being maybe already just shade too far gone, enough that running into stan or having him dragged into the cult would confuse the fuck out of him. because that’s stanford, right? it has to be, he’s coming in and out of stanford’s house, he looks like stanford with a few questionable fashion and hygiene choices — but then again, stanford hadn’t been in great shape the last time he’d shown his face outside of the cabin, either. but his hands are wrong. his hands are wrong and he can’t be stanford but then why does he look like him? easy solution: everybody gets their memory wiped.

something something, stan may not know where the fuck he is, but he knows coming to in a room full of shady guys he doesn’t recognize is either gonna end with him losing teeth or a little bit of dignity, and he’d like to hold on to his teeth a little longer.

[funnier-when-objectum]

hey, just letting everyone know, i don't really think i have the energy to answer every single ask i'm sent anymore. it means a lot to me that you all love this blog so much but i get dozens and dozens of them and it's starting to stress me out a bit so i'm probably going to pull the plug on that. i could bring in another mod, i guess, but i really don't think i need to do that just for answering asks when that's not the central purpose of this blog. i'll still answer some of them, and i'm not going to delete anything in there so i might still answer or post it eventually (and i read them all regardless), but i'm not going to commit to answering everything in the inbox anymore. thank you <3

[ghostymarni]

can we consider that during intense life events, the effect it has on shifting life choices + reasons behind it? character trauma is WILD

just some personal rambling below the cut; venting somewhere for my peace of mind.

[warning heavy life shit]

After my husband passed, I’ve basically been coping sober the last 5 months. It’s to the day today.

From enjoying life on a high, to drop kicking my survival into sobriety. Not that it was bad, it was controlled enjoyment. Knowing that since I’ve dropped weight from grief, alcohol is neither a smart choice nor does it help with digestion which back tracks fitness progress; I also choose to never relapse my 20’s drinking habits.

I’ve almost become extremely wary of doing anything because I refuse to give chance to any potential to lose my career, kid, home, or peace of mind. I’ve shifted back into high caffeine intake but since getting sick I’ve had to go from 3-6 cups of caf to no more than 3 a day. Fitness is on hold until my cough goes away. But with end of the year work overtime, no help, and survival single parent widow perseverance, it is taking its toll on me. I can’t stop, I have no one to fall back on. My eyes now have undertones of bruise discoloration from it all.

I’m taking a break from other social to be more on tumblr again because here brings me more peace of mind. Ya’ll being yourselves have been a beacon of light in all of this. So if you’re reading this, thank you. I push and look forward to the friends I’ve made on here and the chaos and laughs that bring extra serotonin to my world.

I don’t share for sympathy not one bit. Just pure venting to share what’s actually going on with me. Sharing somewhere I know has actual people wanting to interact and care. Even if it’s just a virtual hug, it’s more than I can ask for. I purely enjoy being here and I just want to be treated without the cloud of people I know in person’s judgment for coping how I need to or how I make my own life choices for my kid and I. Which feels ironic that no one gave a shit before, but since his passing everyone now has a say or opinion.

Deep breath. I’ve got additional real world shit I’m trying not to let bring me down. I need to remind myself I’m capable and I’m doing more than I have ever processed in my life. I wouldn’t be okay without the bad batch, without the clones, without my friends here. [also mega shout out to Lupe for being the sweetest person ever and for listening to my constant nonsense <3 ]

I personally find the clones and their loss in a sense comforting, more so relatable because of my own loss. Regardless of fictionality, that they live to fight another day. They keep pushing, they keep fighting. Because that’s exactly what I need right now. You guys are my brothers in that retrospect. No pressure no responsibility just support and happiness.

You’re still here?

Hey 😏

[waywardstation]

hopefully not violating terms but id like to ask going forward that you not censor words with special characters like you did, since it can make peoples blocked words/tags lists not catch it and thats less than ideal^tm

assuming you came from a place of good intentions but would like this kept in mind if an option

Hey! I’ll answer this one because it’s not actually about the topic.

I always used special characters when using that word as I don’t even want these blog posts to show up as a result when people are searching up the word on tumblr, or even have any of my blog posts linked to the topic. But I can now see why that would be an issue when people just don’t want to see anything about it at all and have the word blocked; apologies for that!

Regardless, I hope that is the last time I ever need to mention that topic on this blog so hopefully it’s the last time I ever mention it at all. So it should not happen again!

[daddy-long-legssss]

I think one of the great problems that faces people who are in the industry – within which they have to express themselves – is learning to ignore entirely anyone else’s opinion, especially complimentary opinions because the luxury with being assaulted is that you know instinctively that you’re not to take that onboard because that would affect – in a negative way – what you’re doing. But the same thing could be said for compliments, but they come in sheep's clothing. They invite you to give your sense of self-esteem to someone else because as soon as you start relying upon compliments, then you are giving away your own... I can’t think of the word, but you should be the crux of your own opinion. –Grian Chatten from Fontaines D.C. on Live with KEXP [x]

[arcadekitten]

might sound a wee bit cringe for asking but what are your boundaries on writing fanfiction abt your characters? Can we even write fanfics about them? Also, what about selfshipping or making x reader fics? Ik some creators aren't too comfy with people shipping their characters with themselves or writing x reader stuff. Thank you have a nice day!!!!

You are not being cringe at all!

I would say my boundaries on fanfic etc are the same as my normal boundaries (which can be found in more detail here: https://arcadekitten.tumblr.com/faq ) No NSFW, don't change characters orientations if they've been established, etc

I don't mind people making x readers or self insert characters/fanfics etc etc! I find it really flattering!

[vettelsvee]

DU BIST WELTMEISTER | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests here!

red bull sebastian vettel x reader, nico rosberg x reader

word count: 6518

summary: while seb wins his first formula 1 world championship, y/n is in trouble after nico rosberg's actions. however, seb will try, no matter what, help the broken girl he finally can say out loud he loves more than anyone

warnings: everything related to gender-based violence (main trigger warning to physical and mental abuse, non consented sex, unprotected sex, mentions to abortion) from nico to y/n (reminder that everything you read on my blog is fiction), curse words.

a/n: since seb won his first wdc 14 years ago today, i've thought it would be "nice" posting this history series fic part today! remind you that you can request fics parts from this series on this link :) let me remind you that comments and reblogs are truly appreciated as i'd love to know your thoughts! thank you so much <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

2010 Abu Dhabi Abu Dhabi Grand Prix

Redemption

You weren’t not sure if it was just your perception, but the circuit felt much more lively than usual. It was clear that it wasn’t just the last race of the season, but the competition was much tighter than expected at the beginning of the year.  

Fernando, Lewis, Mark and Sebastian were all betting everything on this one race, and while you would be overjoyed for whoever won, your heart wished with all its might that the German would be the one to do it.  

You passed my accreditation through the reader at the paddock entrance after Nico, who was ahead of you, did the same.  

Both the press and the fans started to approach you, but mostly him. The fact that you weren’t walking together, hand in hand, as the German had gotten used to doing since you confirmed your relationship, said a lot about how things were going. While he couldn’t stop receiving compliments, well wishes for the race just hours away, and even questions about next season, all you heard were comments about what you were doing to stay there, in that part of the motorsport world, and some personal questions and insults that you had internalized so much that you had started to believe they were true.  

Whore. Slut. Useless.  

Maybe you understood why your boyfriend was saying those things: he knew you, and he knew how you were. However, you couldn’t understand why complete strangers behaved that way. You guessed it was because Nico had spoken publicly about it, and they hadn’t given you the chance to tell your side of the story.  

You were a woman in a man’s world. You weren't just a pretty face, and you had learned the hard way that if you wanted to achieve something here, in Formula 1, you had to work much harder, and all of it just because you had a different body.  

It was crazy, although you trusted that one day there would be equality for everyone.  

As you made our way through the paddock towards the pit lane, his silence became an impenetrable wall. Not even when he went to the Mercedes garage, you said goodbye and wished him good luck, did the silence answer for him.  

You tried to shake off the intrusive thoughts that had started to eat away at your mind. Instead, you just lifted your head and greeted everyone you saw, regardless of whether you had ever spoken before or not.  

Drivers, engineers, mechanics and even journalists were met with a positive energy from you that even surprised yourself. You knew that your eyes were conveying, or at least trying to convey, happiness, when the reality was quite the opposite.  

You guessed it was something normal for someone used to pretending everything was fine when it really wasn’t.  

When you arrived at the RedBull box, the commotion gave me clues that you had arrived later than expected. The mechanics were working on Webber and Vettel’s cars to get them ready; the engineers were scattered around the space, and some, like Rocky, were already on the pit lane wall.  

Quickly, you headed to the table where you usually sat and saw Hanna and Norbert, Sebastian’s father, chatting animatedly a few meters away from it. Timidly, you greeted them, and although it seemed like both of them wanted to stop and talk with you, you had to apologize: Marko was already standing there with his arms crossed next to Horner, and you couldn’t predict anything good.  

“Sorry, I had some issues with the suit and had to sew it,” you lied, knowing that Rosberg and his good luck sex was what had delayed your arrival.  

Without saying anything more, the team advisor stepped back. You breathed a sigh of relief, glad he didn’t press further, and sat down in the available spot to the left of Rocky.  

“Finally it’s the last race of this hell of a season,” you began, startling the Frenchman.  

As he kept reviewing some data on the screen, you approached and gave him a small hug. He was an engineer you not only admired as a professional, but also as a person. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t have had the opportunity to learn as much as you had in the past two years, and you would be eternally grateful to him for that.  

“Damn, Y/N, you scared me,” he exhaled, taking off his headphones. He looked up at you and smiled. “How are you?”  

He must be referring to Nico, you thought, and it was normal. The news had spread fast, and it was just a matter of time before everyone knew that, just a few weeks ago, our team golden boy had gotten into a physical altercation with the golden boy of the German team.  

The blame was immediately placed on Seb because the media didn’t know the full story, and it wasn’t necessary for them to. That night you had to book a single hotel room for the first time to avoid running into Nico. You spent the night tending to Vettel’s wounds with a first aid kit that Britta had bought while you were telling them both that you didn’t know anything about the rumor of my possible move to Mercedes until they both left to have a chat with the FIA stewards.  

There were consequences, of course, but the criticisms were worse. It wasn’t just Sebastian who was affected, but also you. The only thing that comforted you, as selfish as it sounded, was that your reputation wasn’t the only one going to shit.  

“I’m good, great!” you finally said. “A bit excited for today’s race, and also worried to be honest.”  

“We’ll do everything we can to make sure Seb takes the championship home today, I promise you.”  

You nodded, even though you truly doubted he would achieve that. Everything was so tight, and a Formula 1 race could sometimes be so uncertain…

“Do you think he can do it?” you asked, showing a kind of insecurity you didn’t expect.  

“If he listens to us and sticks to what we say, yes, there might be a chance,” Rocquelin answered. “I have a lot of faith in him, just like I do in you. I’ve never told you this, but you two are my favorite guys,” he revealed with what I could tell was embarrassment. “And, whether you believe it or not, you’re worth much more, a lot more, than everything they say out there.”  

You couldn’t see it, but you knew a special gleam of emotion had appeared in your eyes.  

“You complement each other much better than we initially thought,” he continued, pointing to the whole team. “You’re... different. Don’t ask me why because I don’t have an explanation except that you have an incredible relationship. Trust me, sometimes you’re not even aware of it.”  

You didn’t say anything else because you felt there was no need. After exchanging a smile with each other, you got back to work in such a way that the sense of time was lost amidst possible pit stops, weather forecast, and an attempt to develop strategies that Ferrari and McLaren, especially, could make.  

“Hi, guys.”  

A female voice sounded behind you. You turned around instinctively and saw Hanna, her hands resting on your backs.  

She must have come to ask something about Seb or ask for your help with something related to him.  

“Rocky, hey, I don’t want to bother, but…” she started… with doubt? “Would you mind if I stole Y/N for a few minutes? I swear, it’s going to be quick, but if not…”  

“No, no problem!” the man shook his head. “We’ve almost finished getting everything ready for your guy to win today. No problem, seriously.”  

Your guy. 

A feeling of disappointment began to fill you, butyouI knew, when Prater’s eyes saddened, that you weren't the only one who felt that bad.  

The German and you talked about Nico as we took a route that was unfamiliar to you and, then, she asked if everything was okay. Surprisingly, you exposed yourself more than you would have thought and told her a little bit about everything. You didn’t have to say much to her. Tears in her eyes started forming while she started holding you tightly in front of Sebastian’s driver’s room door and started apologizing for everything she had done to you and, especially, how much she had judged you. 

Obviously, you never expected that to be happening.  

“How did you manage to endure all that, Y/N?”  

“I don’t know,” you revealed, completely honest, though the deepest part of you screamed that it was the love you thought you deserved. “I guess it’s karma paying me back for getting involved in your relationship with Seb...” You hurried to correct myself. “I mean… I never did, really, I didn’t know you two were together, and…”  

“I know,” she interrupted you. Her eyes reflected a spark of understanding, something that calmed you. “It’s not your fault that my... boyfriend is an idiot. I would have done the same if I had been in your shoes, really.”  

Why did her answer surprise you?  

“In fact,” she continued, “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”  

“Why? You don’t owe me any apology.”  

“Yes, I do! Don’t be ridiculous!” she let out a sigh through her lips after the shout, and you could feel she was relieved. “You know as much as I do that I’ve treated you really badly, and more than once. I wasn’t fair to you, especially considering I didn’t even know the situation, and even more so when you started dating Nico,” she commented. “Did I get angry when Seb got drunk in Germany and I saw him kissing you? Of course I did, but when he explained everything to me... I understood.”  

Her words were leaving you bewildered and, above all, making it impossible to articulate your own.  

“When I realized that sometimes it’s the heart that tells us how to act, and that we don’t choose who to fall in love with, that’s when I understood everything,” she continued calmly. “Let me tell you something: I’ve known Seb since we were kids, and the way his whole being lights up, not just his eyes, when he sees you, was something I’ve never seen in him, not even with me.”  

A pain began to settle in your chest the moment you noticed the hurt with which she was saying all that.  

“Really, Hanna, you don’t have to apologize.”  

“You don’t have to do it,” she began to say, pretending to ignore your question, “but... do you think we could ever be... you know... friends?”  

You knew she regretted it, and all it took was looking at her to know she wanted what was best for both of you. You wish you could tell her yes… However, you knew you had to leave many things behind, both of you.  

“Sure, but not now,” you whispered. You saw how she lowered her head, and you felt completely bad. “I think I need to sort a lot of things out in my life before we become an unstoppable duo. But when we do, I promise we’ll be the best.”  

The blonde moved towards the door and, with one hand on the doorknob, turned around and gave you one last smile before leaving.  

“Trust me, Y/N: Seb loves you, and I mean it. You two will be an unstoppable duo when you two stop being so stubborn.”

Appreciation

“Okay, Seb, good job,” Seb heard you say on the other side of the radio. “I need you to wait until everyone crosses the line.”  

While he kept as focused as if the race hadn’t just ended, he started to get more nervous than he’d ever been.  

His hands were shaking on the steering wheel, and that seemed to be noticeable in the car's movement.  

“I need you to wait…” Rocky now spoke, probably as he watched the others go by, “but it’s looking good.”  

“You just wait, sunshine, you just wait...”  

Somehow, you calling him sunshine calmed him more than he’d like to admit.  

“Hamilton, P2,” Rocky began to say, making Seb’s anxiety grow, “Button, P3. There are two more cars coming on turns 15 and 16,” he informed the driver. “Hold on, we just need those two cars, man. Just those two. I think you’re going to like this.”  

And with that last comment, Sebastian Vettel began to get emotional, even though he wasn’t sure about anything.  

“Rosberg, P4.” Seb sighed in relief. The only thing he was glad about was that he wouldn’t be sharing the podium with him today. “Kubica... Kubica P5.”  

“Du bist weltmeister!” I heard my favourite girl scream with that Austrian-German accent he had grown so accustomed to.  

Tears began streaming from his eyes without warning, racing down his cheeks at an incredible speed.  

It couldn’t be real. Had he really won the championship?  

This had to be impossible. He was probably dreaming, though the shouting he heard over the radio, especially from Y/N, yelling at Britta to go with her, was making him realize that no, everything he was experiencing right now was a dream come true after years of hard work.  

“Thank you, guys!” he shouted into the radio, unable to contain his sobs. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable! Thank you, I love you all.”  

Then, Seb hoped Y/N had heard it because he mostly said it for her.  

“I need a moment.”  

“Sebastian Vettel, you are the world champion! World champion!” Christian shouted, giving him no chance to calm down. “Well done, enjoy it! You’re the man!”  

Without even thinking about it, Seb started screaming with joy, oblivious to how surreal that was. He kept thanking everyone because this wasn’t just his work, it was the team's. He couldn’t believe it; nothing that was happening felt real, though as he got closer to parc fermé, it started to feel more so.  

He didn’t deserve this.  

“I think this is the first time I’ll be crying,” he joked to lighten the moment. “Thank you.”  

Right now, there was a lump in his throat that couldn’t be undone.  

“Let’s not forget you’re the youngest world champion in Formula 1 history,” Rocky announced, somehow making him feel even prouder. “You’re more than allowed to cry, you’re allowed to cry.”  

“You guys kept believing in me, and I kept believing in you.”  

As soon as he parked the car in front of the sign with the number 1 and turned off the engine, a mix of voices and cheers chanting his name filled the air.  

Vettel tried to remove the steering wheel to get out, and then put it back as calmly as possible. He climbed on top of the car and raised his arms in the air, victorious over what had just happened, while he started looking for familiar faces among the crowd.  

He got down and saw his father, whose face radiated indescribable pride. Seb knew he had seen him because he started clapping, raising his arms in the air, and his smile grew even more. They were saying everything with just a look, and the driver knew that maybe he was happier than he was at that moment because all his sacrifice had paid off.  

Seb started crying even more when he realized he had been the first pillar, the most fundamental one, of why he was here today, where he was now.  

He wanted to go see him, to thank him for everything he had helped and supported him with all these years, but they rushed us so quickly to the cooldown room that he barely had time to even take off his helmet.  

He was confused, and he didn’t even know what to do. His climb to the podium reflected that. The moment the first notes of the German national anthem started, he raised his head, and an indescribable feeling started to overwhelm him. He couldn’t stay still, no matter how much he wanted to. He started touching his hair, grabbing it between his hands, biting his lower lip to prevent more tears from falling.  

His eyes landed on you when the German anthem stopped, giving way to Austria’s, your country. You were standing next to Britta, with Hanna on the other side, both of you resting your heads on his PR’s shoulders, holding hands. More than surprised, Seb felt relief at that moment. Seeing you together, being part of such an important moment for him, sparked an explosion of emotions.

His past and his present, and hopefully his future, had reconciled and made peace, apparently. Hanna Prater understood Sebastian Vettel more than he ever thought she could when he revealed that he no longer felt what a boyfriend should feel for her and that now it was Y/N Y/L/N, you, who held those feelings.  

After celebrating with champagne, getting soaked in it by Jenson and Lewis, and even by Helmut, Sebastian went straight to the post-podium interview they always had to endure after a race. For the first time, it flew by, tolerating a press conference after a race. When Britta wrapped her arms around him as they left that room, a feeling of calmness settled in his body. 

As we walked through the paddock, Seb spotted you in the distance, talking with his dad and a few interviewers.  

Despite being several meters away, the conversation was perfectly audible. Seb noticed you were acting as a translator between his dad and the interviewers since he knew some English but not enough to speak comfortably. You, on the other hand, were the opposite: you were radiating confidence. Seeing you there, with no trace of shyness, managing the conversations smoothly and switching from English to German in no time, made him feel more than proud of you.  

“How does it feel to see your son win, Norbert?” Seb heard Coulthard ask his dad. Britta moved closer to him, likely just as interested as the driver was in what they were saying.  

You translated the question, and Norbert, after thanking you, answered in your native language:  

“I don’t have words to describe how I feel. Sebastian has been working so hard since he was a kid,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “The happiest day of my life was the day my children were born; this is the second.”  

Seb noticed how you tensed up, possibly moved by his father’s words. You kept your composure in an incredibly professional manner, and after exchanging a few more words with the interviewers, they left.  

“Fabian told me to say hi to you,” Seb heard his dad say to you as he approached them.  

“Really? He still remembers me? How is he?”  

Seb stood next to his father, facing you, who seemed really happy to see him.  

“He’s great, but he’s hooked on one of those singing shows and has become obsessed with a group now! He wants to be a singer now, you know?” Norbert continued. “He’s crazy.”  

“Norbert, if I made it here, Fabian can do anything.”  

If there was one thing you had taught Seb, it was to never give up. You had one more year left of your degree, and neither of you knew what would happen once you finished your internship. The only thing Seb was absolutely sure of, no matter what, was that you were going to stay in Formula 1, hopefully, with him.  

“When Fabian becomes famous I’ll retire, how about that?”  

“Shut up!” Britta scolded, smacking Seb’s arm after his comment. “You just won a championship, and you’re already thinking about retiring?”  

The recent world champion shrugged, nodding. His dad’s laughter, joined by yours, blended with Roeske’s huffing, making him laugh, too.  

At that moment, Britta pulled out a camera she had tucked in her pocket.  

“Come on, guys! Seb, stand next to Y/N and hold that flag over there,” Roeske directed them. “Yes, yes, you look great. Now… smile!”  

She started giving you both instructions on how you should pose. At first, the idea embarrassed you because it was the first photo you were taking together, and you didn’t know how to do it.  

Seb took the first step. He grabbed the German flag and draped it behind him, spreading his arms to keep it open while telling you to lean on his chest, not to be embarrassed. You reluctantly agreed, though your comfort was obvious once you did it. Britta took several photos of you both in that position, and soon Seb had his arms wrapped around you, hugging you from behind. He started tickling you, and it didn’t take long for you to laugh.  

Britta captured all of it. They were photos that were too intimate… too real, and Seb knew Roeske wouldn’t publish them anywhere.  

He could even swear she had other reason behind all of that.  

“You guys look great,” Britta said while reviewing all the photos she had taken. Sbe joined her, and he could confirm they truly were wonderful. It was as if everything was perfect. You even looked like a couple.  

Suddenly, you, still in front of Seb, turned pale. You quickly began adjusting your clothes, moving nervously as if you didn’t know what to do.  

“Y/N, are you okay?” Seb ran over to you. “Do you need anything?”  

“I… I have to go,” you revealed as you started to run. “I loved being with you all, but…”  

Seb wanted to say something else, to make sure you would be okay with whoever you were leaving with, and even beg you not to go, but your departure was so quick that you left Norber with words unspoken, Britta shaking her head and praying for you, and Seb, your dearest Seb, without enough time to tell you that he loved you. 

Leave

Fear paralyzed you when you saw Nico in the distance, but not as much as you expected. You managed to say goodbye to Seb, Britta, and Norbert, but you didn’t want to. You wanted to tell the newly crowned world champion that what you needed was for him to punch, for the third time, your boyfriend, but you held back because you didn’t want to ruin his night.

You walked towards the Mercedes driver with a heavy feeling in your chest, aware of the tension that would exist between you because of what he had just witnessed. His crossed arms and intense gaze, flashing anger and aggression, were not a good sign, and you began to fear the worst.

You tried to stay calm, though inside, you felt a whirlwind of emotions. All you wanted in those moments was for whatever he would do to you to be over quickly, and that finally, you would have the courage to leave him. 

You refused to let next season be the same as this one.

"Congratulations on the race, you did great."  

You tried to give him a hug and a kiss, as you were used to doing. All you received was silence and him starting to walk, indirectly indicating that you should follow him.  

Those words made it clear he didn’t want any kind of discussion; at least, not in public.

You limited yourself  to walk behind him because he wouldn’t let you walk beside him. In part, you were grateful, as your thoughts barely let you think clearly, and they started to pile up because you were stubbornly trying to guess his intentions.  

"Did I do something wrong, Nico?" you tried to break the silence with fear. "Seriously, can we talk? I’m worried," you admitted.  

Again, he ignored you, not even gesturing in response.

Each step you took filled you with more worry, which reached its peak when, surprisingly, he let you go into his driver's room first.

Without saying anything, you stood there. Nico, however, began undressing quickly. He unzipped his racing suit, standing there in just his underwear and fireproof undershirt, though he didn’t keep them on for long.

His movements were mechanical, as if he had planned it all point by point, until he was entirely undressed. You felt very uncomfortable, and if he hadn’t locked the door, you would have run, unlike what happened in Monaco when you not only had sex with him for the first time, but lost your virginity.

He started coming towards you and undid your ponytail; then, he looked at you, signaling that he was going to pull down my skirt, and though you didn’t want him to, you ended up nothing so he’d go through with it and get it over with once and for all. He ended up yanking the skirt down without unbuttoning it, and so quickly that you barely had time to react. You didn’t resist when he started unbuttoning your shirt, and all you did was force yourself to relax to avoid the pain take over you

"On your knees, now."  

"I don’t want to do this," I told him, tears in my eyes. "Nico… I don’t feel like doing this… Maybe we can have dinner and then we can…"  

You didn’t get a chance to say anything else. The inevitable became reality once again.

As his speed and abuse increased, your disgust and pain, both physical and mental, did too. You tried to think that all of this had a reason; that somehow, which you still didn’t understand, it would turn into something that would help you achieve what you had dreamed of: a place in this sport.

Everything stopped when you felt the blue-eyed man pull out of me suddenly.  

"This can't be happening, no… This can’t be…"  

As soon as you turned, he didn’t need to say anything else.

His penis, without any condom, was covered in semen.  

You started to panic at that moment.  

"I have to go," the German declared as he began to get dressed.

Confusion began to overwhelm you. You were so in shock that you couldn’t process what had just happened, though you were fully aware of it.  

"What… what just happened?" was all you could manage to say. "What are you doing, Nico?"

You tried, in your mumbling, to cling to a logical explanation from him, despite it being more than obvious what he was doing. Your eyes tried to find a clear and concise answer, in both his movements and the words he didn’t say, absorbed in his rush to leave.  

"Nico, please… tell me what I did wrong," you begged, breaking down in tears.  

"If you come to tell me anything in nine months, with a kid, know that I’ll deny everything. Do whatever you want with… that, but don’t count on me for anything."  

He finished putting on his racing gear again and, at this point, you didn’t know what to say because you felt incredibly humiliated.  

His words kept echoing in your mind, and the fact that he had finished inside you without warning hit you in ways you never wanted.  

You started wondering if you could become a mother… If you could be pregnant…  

That couldn’t be true; or, at least, it wasn’t something you wanted to believe. You couldn’t be a mother, not now. You didn’t have the mental or financial stability to take care of a child.

You wouldn’t be a good mother, no matter how much you desired to be one. You weren't ready for it, and this was what made me think that, perhaps, you would never be ready.

You felt a lump in your throat when you saw Rosberg walk towards the door, unlock it, and open it, although he quickly shut it again only to turn towards you once more:  

"When I go back with Valentina, I don’t want to see you here again, or in my room," he began to say. You could only cover yourself with your hands, awkwardly. "Someone from my team will contact you so you can collect your things and get out of my life once and for all. Also, remember the contract."

“Nico…” 

“Leave.”

With that final sentence, leaving you more broken, used, and discarded than anyone had ever done, and that you hoped anyone ever would, you could finally say that Nico Rosberg was gone from your life.

But at what cost?

Acceptance

"Finally we can focus on next season! God, I've been looking forward to it. Let’s hope it’s not as close as this one."

“Things are tough, Marko, but I trust Sebastian.”

Christian gave their golden boy a slap on his shoulder that hurt more than he expected. Maybe because Seb wasn't ready for it, or because seeing you running by, a bit confused and trying to go unnoticed, had thrown him off balance.

The German tried not to let it bother him and to focus on the words his dad was now sharing with the advisor and team boss. You were probably looking for Rosberg to go to the party, which Seb definitely wanted to avoid but wasn’t sure how to.

It was impossible, though. His eyes followed you, who were starting to disappear from his line of sight with your hurried steps.

Seb began to worry, though the important thing now was to be where he needed to be.

“Seb, go with her.”

Hanna's voice, barely noticeable in a whisper, pulled Seb out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Go with her,” she said, pointing to the path you had taken. “She needs you much more than we do here.”

“But…”

“Go, silly. Tell me how she’s doing later, okay?” she insisted.

Seb nodded, grateful, because with those words he finally felt free.

Then the Red Bull driver said goodbye, and as soon as he did, he ran out. Seb was exhausted, and the shower he had just taken would do little good. His feet were burning, but that wouldn’t stop him from making sure the girl he loved was okay.

The distance between you both grew shorter with each step, and his calls grew less urgent as he saw you appear again.

“Wait, Y/N!”

Either you didn’t hear him, or you didn’t want to. Anxiety gripped Seb, and he quickened his pace.

“Y/N, please, stop!” He insisted, reminded of the time he did this exact same thing a year ago, the day you found out he had a girlfriend.

He caught up to you, and all you did when you saw him was hug him tightly, as if you needed refuge and Seb could give it to you.

Seb didn’t say anything else until you spoke first. He hoped that, if you didn’t, at least you’d give him some sign of what might have happened.

“Take me to the nearest pharmacy, please…”

Anxiety took over you, and fear over Seb. He wasted no time and, without saying much more, put a hand on your back and began guiding you to where his rented car was. When you arrived, he helped you get in gently, and without saying a word, he tried to find the nearest one as quickly as possible, finally reaching it half an hour later.

Seb parked at the door and saw that you didn’t dare get out.

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No,” you replied sharply, and hurried out of the car.

Seb sat in the car, turning everything over in his mind. It was restless and worried, his gaze fixed on the pharmacy sign that lit up much of the street you were on. He was also staring at the door, counting the minutes until you came out.

Seb started wondering why you’d wanted to go to a pharmacy this late at night and, above all, why you seemed so distressed. It wasn’t hard to guess that Rosberg had probably caused all that, but not knowing the real reason behind it was making Vettel feel awful.

He was sure there was something you hadn’t told him, and he hoped you would trust him enough to share it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the pharmacy's automatic doors opened, letting you out. Your face looked tired, full of disappointment, and that only heightened Seb’s worry.

“Are you okay?” Seb asked, trying not to sound worried, and slightly surprised since he didn’t see anything in your hands.

You nodded reluctantly, but your gaze was different, as if something was starting to deeply disturb you.

“Yes, thanks for waiting,” was all you said.

Seb was about to speak again, but you beat me to it.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” you asked in a barely audible whisper, then shook your head slightly, as if regretting your question. “Forget it, I don’t know why I even asked if…”

“Of course, Y/N,” he interrupted you. “You don’t even have to ask.”

You didn’t need to say anything else. Seb turned on the car engine again and headed toward the hotel, its sound being the only noise breaking the silence. Tonight there was no music; no performance from you singing along to any song on the radio.

Seb allowed himself to glance at you from the corner of his eye, searching for any sign of what might be going through your mind. Your gaze was distant, making your expression a completely unsolvable mystery.

Neither of you spoke, and Seb didn’t push you to. Nor did he say anything when you arrived at his room, letting you walk in ahead of him, not caring about any curious looks you might have gotten.

Seb closed the door as he entered, turning towards you with a clear intention to break the ice with a question that, though silly, was something he’d wanted to ask you all season:

“Do you feel like ordering something from McDonald's?”

You looked up at him and, for the first time, your eyes reflected something other than sadness. 

“Why are you asking?”

“I've been craving a Big Mac since the season started,” he replied, smiling. “Eddie hasn’t let me have a single cheat day, and I think I deserve one tonight.”

Your lips formed a faint smile, barely visible, but enough for him to calm a bit.

“Alright, but I'm paying,” you said, digging into your pockets.

“No way am I letting you pay, Y/N,” he refused, laughing at your insistence. “As long as you spend time with me, I won't let you pay for anything.”

“Oh, really? You're not going to let me be the independent woman I deserve to be?”

Seb hated how stubborn you were, but he loved it at the same time. You finally convinced him to let you pay after much insistence, but he wouldn’t let you open the door for the delivery guy. A large Big Mac meal with deluxe fries and a Coke Zero, and a Happy Meal with a Little Pet Shop theme, a plain cheeseburger since you hated pickles, and regular fries, along with two ice creams that we put in the minibar, covered the bed. You barely had time to start eating; at least Seb didn’t as he watched you fiddle with your burger, distracted.

“What's wrong, Y/N?” he asked softly, taking a sip of my drink.

“Nico… he…” you began, your voice trembling.

Seb felt a knot in his stomach, and a chill ran down his spine.

“What did he do, Y/N?”

You took a deep breath, summoning strength from somewhere to find the right words.

“Nico… finished inside me…”

That’s why you wanted to go to the pharmacy, Seb started thinking. That’s why your cheeks were flushed. That’s why you were so confused, not knowing where to go. 

That’s why you seemed to want to disappear.

“He told me that if I got pregnant, he didn’t want anything to do with the baby,” you confessed in a barely audible whisper. “That’s why I went to the pharmacy, to get the morning after pill or whatever it's called, I think you know…. You don’t know the embarrassment I felt when they told me it was illegal… Seb, I can’t be a mother,” you revealed. “I’m not ready to have a baby, and I’m sure he wouldn’t want me, and…”

You kept opening up, and Seb started to feel uneasy as he imagined you with a baby bump and then nursing a newborn.

He pushed those thoughts away, hoping he hadn’t said them out loud and hating himself for thinking that in a serious situation as this one was.

“When are you going back to Austria?” was all Seb could say. It felt pointless to say he was sorry. To him, showing you his support, letting you know he’d be there for you, was most important.

“I guess when my aunt wires me some money… I flew here on Nico’s jet and don’t have much money left in my bank account...”

“Then come with us tomorrow morning,” Seb told you without a second thought.

“Seb…”

“We’ll figure it out, okay? Or are you going to keep letting Nico treat you like this?”

You looked at him with determination, and Seb knew you’d finally taken a step you’d struggled to make… or more likely you had been forced into, which usually happened when one side in a toxic relationship stops wanting to play with the other.

“No, Seb. I won’t let Nico back into my life, not in any way,” you finally declared, making him feel so proud of you. “I know finding someone who truly loves me will be difficult, but I’ll hold on to hope.”

Seb swallowed hard. He wanted to tell you that he loved her and that he wanted to start a life alongside you, but the rational part of him knew that, for now, a relationship between you were impossible.

Vettel felt a pain in his chest and an uncontrollable urge to cry.

“Don’t worry about that, Y/N. You’re incredible, and I’m sure someone who values you will come along when you least expect it,” was all Seb could say.

After that, it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, leaving Seb alone with his thoughts. Seeing you so vulnerable, even in your sleep, made him wonder what kind of world you lived in for someone to cause you all the harm Rosberg had. He also thought about how much he’d wanted to kiss you, to show you how much you meant to him, and, in some way, that he regretted not doing it, but tonight wasn’t the ideal moment.

The scene Seb was experiencing felt like déjà vu from the night before his first victory, two years ago. Now things were very different, and there was no doubt that you both were two people who, despite having a lot left to learn, had matured enough to realize something important: that you were deeply in love with each other and loved each other so much that we feared starting something that might hurt the other once again.

[fitpacs]

<3

[thewatercolours]

Podfic: "Captive Crown" by GerbilofTriumph

A shabby narration of GerbilofTriumph's excellent King's Quest fanfiction, "Captive Crown," complete with outrageous attempts at accents and enough bloopers to start a drinking game (with um, raisin juice. There are too many goofs for the real stuff.) This wonderful fiction, full of courage, nightmares, and healing, is gratefully recorded and shared with permission of the author, @gerbiloftriumph. Go check out her awesome creative blog.

All seven chapters are available at the link above, but if you just feel like listening to the first chapter while you scroll, voila:

Original text here:

[kettleghost]

Hi there! Just stumbled upon your Saul Goodman artwork! I love that rascal, he gives off Daria vibes in ur style!

thank you so much!! this really means a lot! im assuming you’re referring to my slippin’ jimmy redesign(??) since i actually based that design off of the artsyle of early mtv cartoons like daria and clone high and shows like that! so it’s super great to know that it translated well into my drawing n stuff. so so glad u enjoy my art! thank u for letting me know :D here are some doodles of the silly guy

[todayisafridaynight]

would it be okay if u told me why u like aoki😭/gen😭😭😭😭BEEN TRYNA LIKE HIM FOR SO LONG I JUST CANTT but i love ur art so much so i still consume it otherwise lol

i liked tohru adachi in high school and tbh i think that alone is enough of an explanation for why i ended up liking aoki

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

1 for the ask game. Whumper

Thank you for the ask :33

1) How did you acquire your whumpee? How hard it was? (from this ask game)

Ryan snorts. “I wasn’t the one who acquired him. I would’ve picked someone more…” His eyes unfocus for a moment before glancing back at you. “Well, never mind that. It was Mom who brought him home. According to her, there was some big riot or something… she said she had to teach everyone a lesson and take a captive. Honestly, she probably didn’t need to, but her decisions as queen were- well.” He swallows. “Not my place to criticize. Anyway, she convinced the crowds that he was dead and just… brought Onyx home. Left him in my room as if we weren’t in an entire castle of empty rooms.”