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vettelsvee · 2 months ago

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A SAINT VALENTINE'S BREAK UP? | Sebastian Vettel

Red Bull Sebastian Vettel x Race engineer girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Seb is acting very, very romantic with you, but all you can think about, somehow, is that he's going to break up with you to go back with his ex girlfriend

WORD COUNT: 7221

WARNINGS: None of it! Just Seb being a cutie and lots of fluff. Also... many Taylor Swift mentions as reader is a certified swiftie ☺️

VEE'S NOTES: Happy Valentine’s to you all! This is one of my favorite shots I've ever written! Hope you like this one as much as I do and, in case you do, please comment your thoughts and reblog, it’s pretty appreciated! Thank you so much for reading <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

You slowly open your eyes and, still lying down, begin to stretch, moving from side to side. You reach out your hand toward the side of the bed where you expect your boyfriend to be, but all you feel is the cold of the morning seeping into your skin.

You sit up, fully open your eyes, and realize your boyfriend isn't there. Not there, nor anywhere in the room, not even in the bathroom, despite its door being open.

A loud noise coming from downstairs and the smell of coffee set off the alarms. You decide to put on your slippers, throw on your robe, and go downstairs slowly, trying not to make noise and disturb Seb in whatever he might be doing.

You enter the kitchen and see Seb with his back turned, holding the handle of a pan in one hand and a spatula in the other. Next to him, on the counter, is a plate with a couple of waffles, a bottle of ketchup, and a couple of jars with coffee and juice.

You knew Sebastian Vettel was romantic, but you also knew he liked to sleep like a log, so this could only mean that either you were dreaming, or the RedBull golden boy wanted something from you.

That he wanted to do something nice for his girlfriend was the last thing on your mind.

You decide to approach him and hug him from behind, not even flinching at your unexpected contact. Without stopping to pay attention to the scrambled eggs, almost ready, the German turns around and gives you a short kiss on the lips.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Did you sleep well?" he asks.

You just nod with a murmur.

"If you let me, I can finish preparing breakfast," he asks, trying to push you away. "I've been awake for an hour and a half to make everything perfect, so please, don't make me ruin it now."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Vettel."

You sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island and let yourself fall onto it, not without noticing the bouquet of flowers in the center. Orchids and roses make up most of it, although you also spot a few daffodils. You realize that what holds them all together is a cord with a small label with something written on it. Tempted, you’re about to open it, but you end up not doing it, convinced that it would be some gift for Sebastian that’s none of your business.

"Do you like it?"

Sebastian puts a plate in front of you, which, for what he usually does, is a masterpiece. A waffle covered with fruit on top, and beside it, scrambled eggs and some small containers with ketchup, whipped cream, white chocolate, and dark chocolate.

You’re mesmerized, not knowing what to say to him. It’s the breakfast your mother used to make you on weekends and on some special occasions, like your birthday. You’d even swear that the containers with the sauces on them are exactly the same. Your gaze is fixed on the plate, unable to look away. It’s quite strange that Seb knows about this because, beyond your sister and your late father, no one else has any idea about this tradition.

"Y/N, love, are you listening?" he insists, pulling you out of your trance.

"What?" you ask, completely distracted.

"The bouquet of flowers," Seb replies, pointing to the vase. "Although I also accept feedback on the breakfast."

"Let me taste it. You know you're not the chef of our wonderful couple."

Sebastian nods, takes a seat in front of you, and patiently waits for your final verdict. You take your time to slowly taste everything, even though you want to devour it eagerly. You make all sorts of combinations: chocolate with whipped cream and waffle, ketchup with scrambled eggs, and you even dare to mix chocolate and cream with eggs just to cough, give yourself nausea, and provoke laughter from your boyfriend.

You drink some coffee to get rid of the bad taste that had lingered in your mouth while you can't stop thinking about how on earth he could know your mother’s exact recipe.

"So, what's the verdict? Pass?"

You lift your head to look at him and smile. Not just approved: it’s such a masterpiece.

"Definitely, sunshine. I mean, not just the breakfast, don't get me wrong," you hasten to add. "All of this is wonderful," you point to the breakfast and to him, "but..."

But you’re starting to have the strange feeling like there's something behind all of this.

"But what, sweetheart?"

That he’s doing this because he wants you two to break up.

"Nothing," you rush to reply, dismissing the fleeting thought that just crossed your mind.

You know Seb isn’t pleased with your answer, but it seems to be enough for him.

You continue having breakfast, and soon he joins you with a protein shake and an apple. You can’t help but feel bad eating such a feast in front of him.

"And what do you think about the bouquet?" he asks.

"It's very beautiful," you reply, covering your mouth so he won’t see it full. "Whoever gave it to you has very good taste."

"Are you saying I have good taste?"

"What? Did you buy them?" you ask again.

"Of course. Who do you think would give me flowers?"

"I don't know," you say honestly. "Any of the girls who chase you around the paddock, for example."

"Y/N: the bouquet is for you," he announces nervously.

You remain, once again today, in shock. Seb has left you speechless on many occasions, but today is simply too much.

You look at the bouquet, look at him, and look back at the bouquet. His index finger points at the note. If you had noticed earlier, just as you're doing now, you could have seen, even if only vaguely, that it was his handwriting.

"Read the note, love."

Following his advice, you delicately take the card in your hands, trying not to break it and carefully untie the cord. When you open it, you can see that, in addition to something written in German, our mother tongue, it’s accompanied by his signature, a poorly drawn heart and, of course, one of the happy faces he almost always uses:

You told me I wouldn't have many firsts with you, but look: today is the first time I’ll give you flowers. I assure you there will be many more, my dearest paddock girl (although now I prefer calling you my beautiful girlfriend and, of course, my dearest race engineer).

Your eyes fill with tears. Without thinking, you turn around the kitchen island, run toward Seb, who is still sitting, and throw yourself at him to kiss him. You feel his arms wrap around your waist and his hands running down your back to your neck, pulling you closer without breaking your union.

You part, breathless, a few seconds later, when it feels like you're running out of air. Your foreheads stay together, and your gazes can’t be torn away from each other. A playful smile forms on Sebastian’s lips, and you know what he’s thinking.

"Don't get so affectionate, Y/N. We have a lot to do today."

You pull away from him and cross your arms. He hadn’t mentioned anything about that last night, not even when he convinced you to come spend a few days with him, knowing perfectly well that you couldn't just leave your job at the café during winter breaks like that.

"Well, you'll have to tell me what then."

He puts his hands in his back pocket and pulls out a piece of paper that he doesn’t hesitate to offer you.

"I made a list because I didn’t want to forget anything, you know I’m a mess," he explains as you quickly glance over what it says.

Try to find some album Lara wants, but the limited edition version.

It makes sense. Seb’s sister is as obsessed with One Direction as you are with Taylor Swift.

Buy a notebook (mom told me it’s good so I don’t forget things).

You don’t continue reading because the rest seems to be a shopping list that isn't very important. You leave it on the table, trying not to get it dirty with breakfast leftovers, and pick up the dishes, ready to wash them.

Seb quickly comes over to you, taking the items from your hands and depositing them all in the sink. Without saying anything else, he moves closer and gives you a quick peck on the lips, followed by a loving slap on your butt.

"No, today you're not going to do anything, so you better go upstairs and check if there's anything on the bed."

Following his advice, filled with intrigue, you hurry upstairs to the bedroom, looking for whatever Seb wanted you to see. It's quite easy to find, as the fluorescent pink color of the post-it note stands out against the snow-white sheets. "Look at the white box in the closet," it reads, accompanied by one of his smiley doodles.

You contain yourself from opening the box in the closet. Carefully, you place it on the bed and open it slowly, just in case there’s something unexpected. And indeed, there is: to your surprise, you find the dress you've been wanting for so long.

You take it in your hands, stretching it over you as much as you can, letting the softness of the fabric envelop your fingers. It's even more beautiful than you saw in that shop window, and you can’t fathom how Seb managed to get it because when you went to inquire about it, you were told it was sold out.

You notice something deliberately hidden under the tulle that wraps the dress. Carefully, you place the garment on the bed and discover the black and green lingerie set with floral details that you fell in love with the time you and Britta went to Victoria's Secret out of curiosity.

It's obvious what Seb wants from you, for the two of you to do.

"Seb! Was all of this your idea!?"

You wait for an answer that never comes. You shout again, louder this time, but silence is the only thing that answers you.

Deciding not to wait any longer for an answer that you know won’t come, you quickly dress in your new outfit, also changing your underwear and shoes to match.

When you get downstairs, Seb is already waiting by the door leading to the garage with his car keys in his hand.

"It looks much better on you than I thought," he says, lost in thought. "You look like a real-life Cinderella version, but a thousand times prettier."

You don't know how to respond because, even after two months of dating, you still haven’t gotten used to Seb constantly complimenting you.

You smile shyly and lower your head. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and leads you to his car.

"Did you like... that?"

"What do you mean by that, love?"

He knows exactly what he means, just like you, but you want to play along with him, just as he’s playing with you, filled with so much mystery.

"You know..." he begins, hesitating. "What, if I'm not mistaken, you're wearing underneath the dress."

"Oh, the bra and panties!" you exclaim as you get into the passenger seat and fasten your seatbelt. "They're perfect, Seb."

You remain silent for the first few minutes of the journey, with only the local radio station playing in the background.

"Y/N," he calls you again, shifting his gaze toward you. You hate it when he does that. "Did you really like the lingerie set, or was it too risky? I don't want our first Saint..."

He quickly stops himself, and you wonder why.

"Seb, seriously, I loved it," you assure him, trying to stay calm and make him feel the same. "Britta, more than having good taste, has a good memory," you add.

"Who says Britta helped me?"

"It's too much of a coincidence that last month, when we went into Victoria's Secret out of curiosity, I complained about how expensive this set was," you explain, pulling a strip of your bra out of the neckline of your dress to show him, "and how much I'd love to have it. And today, you show up with the dress I'd been saving up for more than I'd have liked.”

Seb smiles sideways. It’s obvious he’s the one behind all of this.

"Maybe I should talk to my PR about more mundane things than press conferences and stupid rumors," he confirms.

"If you want, only if you want... I can show it to you later."

Thankfully, the traffic light turns red. His face quickly turns toward you, but he looks back at the road when you gently guide him with your hand. When the light turns green again, he continues driving.

His cheeks are flushed, a shade of red you rarely see. You won’t deny that you like seeing him like that.

"Easy, babe. We've waited three years to be together. I think we can wait a little longer to do exactly you know what."

A few minutes later, you park in one of the farthest parking spots from the mall. As usual, Seb gets out first to open the door for you, which you thank him for, even though you're dying of nerves.

"Well, what do we have to do?"

You start walking next to him, quickening your pace and taking his hand. But you let go almost immediately, and he gives you a look of pity. Only a few trusted people know about your relationship, and for now, you don’t plan on making it public.

His look pierces you like a dagger, and it only intensifies the thought that you’re living your last moments together.

"I thought we'd go to the music store first," he says, avoiding the tension. "Then I want to go to a stationery store that’s opened, and I know you’d... well, it has a lot of office supplies that you’d like," he adds. "And I also want to buy some things for our house in case we have special guests."

You don’t want to ask more questions, not wanting any unwanted answers. You assume that Hanna is one of those unexpected guests, but you can't face hearing him say it just yet.

The first stop, as Seb said, is the music store. As you enter, a combination of violins and pianos instantly relaxes you. A section of vinyl records catches Seb’s attention, especially because most of them are from his favorite band, The Beatles.

"You have no idea how long I've been looking for this," he begins, holding one in his hands and inspecting it. "But today we didn’t come for this."

He puts it down and heads to a more youthful section. You stop to look at the price of the vinyl version of Abbey Road and decide to take a picture to remember which one it is, in case you can find it cheaper, because the few savings you have were spent just coming to see him.

"Di, look! Do you like it?"

You spot him a few feet away, holding a stack of records. You approach him to see what titles he’s picked. The Speak Now album by Taylor Swift catches your eye, and you let out a muffled scream of excitement.

"Do you like any?"

You know he noticed your reaction, but you act as if nothing happened. You continue browsing through the stack of records, but none of them interest you, aside from the ones by Taylor Swift and Rihanna.

"Actually, no, sunshine," you lie.

Seb raises an eyebrow, knowing full well that your behavior contradicts your answer. He repeats the question, and you deny it again.

"Seb, really, I didn't like any of them," you insist.

"If you say so... then let’s go. I didn’t find the CD my sister wanted, so everything’s done here."

"But isn’t this the one you were looking for?"

You discreetly pointed out the limited edition of One Direction’s Up All Night behind him, the one you had noticed as soon as you arrived. You could feel him starting to get uncomfortable. A nervous smile tugged at his lips as he bit his lower one and played with his hair.

He was nervous, and now you were feeling even more anxious watching him like that. You swore that if it weren’t for the fact that you were in public, you'd have panicked.

You tried to laugh it off to calm yourself, but stopped as soon as he took your arm and quickly led you to the store's exit.

"Hey, calm down," you said once you were outside. "What's going on with you? Now you're in such a hurry?"

"Well," he glanced at his watch and you mimicked his action. It was twelve fifteen. Almost lunchtime, and you'd only barely tackled the first goal on the list. "I just remembered that my sister already had it."

"And why did we come then?"

He didn’t answer. His gaze dropped to the ground and he fidgeted with his feet. Another clear sign that he was lying.

"Seb, you know if you have something to tell me..."

"Stay here for a second. I'll be right back."

Before you could react, he disappeared back into the store. Curiosity bubbled up inside you, and you peeked through the shop window several times, hiding each time he seemed to catch a glimpse of you. A few minutes later, he came out with a paper bag in his hands. You rushed toward him to see what was inside, but as soon as you peeked, he switched hands.

"I'm not telling you anything for now," he said mysteriously. "You’ll see when the time is right."

"Come on, Seb..."

The pout you gave him, hoping for even a hint, did nothing, both at that moment and in the following hours.

As you went through the stores Seb wanted to visit, you realized he had established some kind of routine. You’d enter together, wherever it was, under the excuse of buying something on Sebastian's list. Once inside, he'd just glance around quickly, ask if you liked or needed anything, and then you'd leave. Each time you said no, he'd go back in, asking you to wait outside, and return with a bag.

It was clear he was plotting something, and you had a feeling it wasn’t anything good. You couldn’t stop analyzing every detail, trying to uncover the truth. Even when you went to one of your favorite restaurants to eat, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Seb devoured his food, savoring something other than vegetables and grilled chicken. Meanwhile, you picked at the plate of carbonara in front of you, consumed with thoughts of how all of this felt like the imminent end of your short love story.

Was Seb buying things for Hanna and hiding it from you?

"Y/N, what's wrong? You've been so quiet," he asked, concern filling his eyes. You forced a smile to hide the pain, but the truth was, you just wanted to cry.

"No, it’s okay. I’m just thinking about today," you said briefly, still staring at your food.

"You’re acting strangely, love. Are you sure you're okay?"

His insistence made you want to spill everything, but your judgment urged caution to avoid risking your relationship even more.

He set down his fork and reached across the table to hold your hands. He didn’t care about who might see, but you felt a flutter of anxiety. Surprisingly, that simple gesture calmed you a little.

"Yes, really," you insisted, meeting his eyes. "I'm just trying not to get nervous about whatever you seem to be planning for you-know-who."

Your smile was forced, and so was his. You knew neither of you was convinced, but it didn’t matter. His expression said it all. He avoided your gaze, and his lips seemed to turn downward.

"What do you think about going to the movies after we eat? I know there’s a movie you’d like to see."

"I don’t know, Seb. Are you asking because you actually want to go, or because you're trying to distract me from whatever you’re hiding?"

Your tone was sharper than you wanted. You watched his face, and the shift in his expression told you that you had upset him.

You felt worse, wondering if all this fuss was just an excuse for him to take you shopping for gifts for his new girlfriend—who, ironically, was his ex-girlfriend—and that he’d break up with you as soon as he could.

"Love, really, I just want to have a good time with you," he assured, though you could tell it was difficult for him.

"And why all this? Why so much insistence that I come with you yesterday, to spend a few days together? What are you hiding?" you asked, your voice heavy with pain.

"I'm not hiding anything, darling. I’m serious," he sighed, struggling to find the right words. "I just want today to be special for us. Why else would I bring you to a place you love to eat? And the movies? I know how much you love cinema. Just like I know you love Taylor..."

"What's with Taylor?" you asked, your curiosity piqued. "Swift, I assume," you added.

"What movie did you want to see?" he countered.

In the end, he picked the movie since you didn’t feel like sitting through an hour and a half of screen time. A Few Best Men was his choice, though it wasn’t one he would usually watch. He did it for you, just like he paid for the tickets almost before you could protest.

Once in the theater, he led you to the section with a wide selection of snacks and urged you to choose whatever you wanted.

"It’s enough that you paid for everything today," you shyly said. "Lunch, the tickets, whatever you bought in the stores..."

For Hanna, not for you, you thought, trying to push that suspicion away quickly.

But Sebastian, being stubborn, wouldn’t let you pay.

"Come on, Y/N. Choosing snacks is part of the movie experience," he said, as if you went to the movies every day. "Seriously, love. Pick whatever you want."

"I’m not hungry."

He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he made his way to the snack counter, choosing things for you.

"So, for my wonderful girlfriend let's grab some popcorn," he began. “And I’ll also get her a bag of licorice and another of M&Ms to mix with the popcorn..."

"And what about you, Vettel?" you asked, trying not to laugh at how well he knew you.

"The usual: sweet popcorn and nachos with cheese."

Seb took the whole selection to the counter to pay. You tried convincing him to let you do it, but, once again, he wouldn’t hear of it. He even insisted on carrying everything to the theater. Some popcorn spilled, and you made a mess with the soda, earning you a scolding.

The ads were already showing when you finally got inside. It was dark, save for the flicker of the screen. You had to be careful not to trip as you made your way to your seats in one of the higher corners.

Seb sat next to you. What you thought would turn into a secretive kiss session turned into him whispering that he was going to the bathroom.

"I won’t be long, I promise," he said.

"Sure, go ahead," you replied.

Since you saw him get up and disappear from the room, you couldn’t concentrate on anything other than his departure, especially when you noticed that minutes were passing by and he hadn’t returned. During the first fifteen minutes, you tried your best to focus on the movie, but it was impossible no matter how much you tried to get interested. About half an hour later, you were already thinking about infidelity, unexpected encounters, and even, why not, that he had left you hanging.

Forty-five minutes after he left, Sebastian returned, giving you a kiss on the lips that you didn’t respond to with the same passion as usual.

"How's the movie, darling?" he asked as if nothing had happened.

You took a deep breath before answering him. You didn’t want to mess things up, even though, perhaps, he deserved it.

"Fine."

"Are you enjoying it? Did I choose well?"

"Yes."

Seb seemed to notice your curt responses, but it’s not like you wanted to hide them. He approached you, wrapping his arms around you, but you escaped. The last thing you wanted in those moments was to have him close.

"Is something wrong, Y/N? You've been acting strange all day, love."

"Nothing's wrong, Seb. I'm just a little tired," you lied again, avoiding looking directly at him. Was it you who was acting strange?

"I was thinking of going out to dinner," he said a bit... sad? "But if you want, we can go back home. Today, I'm completely at your disposal."

"I see," you commented ironically.

The blonde man gently took your hand.

"I was thinking of taking you to a newly opened Spanish restaurant," he whispered. "Would you like that?"

"I would love it," you declared. He had caught you there. Wherever there was Spanish food, everything else could go away. "But you know as well as I do that we shouldn't frequent public places if you want this," you pointed to both of you with your finger, referring to your relationship, "to stay between us and our closest family."

"We had lunch at a restaurant today and nobody saw us," he reproached, raising his voice a bit more than he should. Some people turned to look at you, and you tried to hide.

"Yes, and what time was it, three-thirty in the afternoon? Who the hell eats at that hour, Seb?"

His silence confirmed your point.

"Well," he continued, not letting you enjoy the movie, "then I'm afraid I'll have to change a part of my surprise. You're lucky I'm a Formula 1 driver and fast thinking is my thing," he said, trying to make you laugh and achieving just the opposite.

"Don't we already have a problem?"

"What problem are you talking about, Y/N?"

That his tone had gone from relaxed to completely curt, and above all. That he called you by your full name was a bad sign, a very bad one indeed.

"Sorry," he spoke immediately, realizing that he hadn’t answered you and that he certainly hadn’t spoken in the best way. "It’s just that I’m getting nervous. I'm sorry," he repeated, making you feel a little guilty. "Everything I had planned is just one mess after another, and..."

"It's okay, Seb. Let's go to have dinner," you ended up giving in, ignoring what you had just heard and even though hunger was the last thing on your mind at that moment.

Seb kept talking to you about a thousand different topics for the remaining time of the movie, and did the same on the way back to the car and throughout the journey to that restaurant called La Casa. As much as you felt bad because your boyfriend seemed to have lost his spirits, your mind kept playing tricks on you, and it was nearly impossible to stop thinking that the bad news was going to come at any moment.

Now, as you waited for Seb to come out with the order, and hopefully with the food already in his hands, your stomach was a bundle of uncontrollable nerves.

"I ordered a little bit of everything," you had seen him coming from afar, but you turned in your seat when he opened the trunk. "I know Spanish food is your favorite because you grew up with it for most of your life," he explained as he placed the bags in the back of the car. You were about to interrupt him, but he asked you to be quiet. "I also ordered some Asian food, which they also had, I don't know why, and I know you love that too."

"But don’t you remember anything you ordered?" you inquired with curiosity now that your hunger seemed to have returned.

"Just some croquetas and tortilla de patatas. I don’t understand Spanish, my dear," he replied as he got behind the wheel and resumed driving down the road. "When we get to the lookout, you'll have to explain everything to me in detail."

As you continued driving towards the place, unease grew in you at the same time. A desire to vomit integrated into your throat, accompanied by cravings that you didn’t try to hide. With each turn Seb took, you swore that the little you had eaten that day, which was already more than digested, was going to be thrown up when you least expected it.

Sebastian Vettel, the guy you had been in love with since, possibly, the day he stayed overnight in your hotel room the night before his first victory, was going to break up with you, the girl he considered the love of his life, and for whom he left his ex-girlfriend.

Surreal, right?

The driver parked the car, got out quickly, and didn’t hesitate to open the trunk. He took out a much larger number of bags than you would swear to remember. Then, he unfolded a blanket and placed it on the ground, putting a couple more on top, you guessed it, so you wouldn’t get cold. He also placed some cushions from his house and a paper tableware with children's drawings next to what you would swear was the food he had just bought.

Your surprise came when he took out a box much larger than the one this morning. As if it weren’t enough that it was closed, it was wrapped in Cars-themed wrapping paper, and to top it off, it had a big red bow on it.

"What's all this about?"

Your still boyfriend, with the box in his hand, gave you a bittersweet look, as if you were speaking to him in a language he didn’t understand.

"Sebastian, I'm telling you seriously," you got even more serious. You saw him start to laugh, and you got even angrier with him. "Don’t laugh, you asshole!"

"What are you talking about, love?" he asked innocently while you hit him with slaps on the arm.

"About today. All day long," you reluctantly replied, which was the last thing you wanted given his expression, quite a poem. "First, I don't know how, but you get up much earlier than me and make me the exact same breakfast my mom used to make for me," you began to enumerate, trying to control your anger. "Then, you give me a list that we didn't end up using because you did whatever you wanted. And let's not forget that you left me alone in the movie theater to, of course, go anywhere but to the bathroom," you added angrily.

Seb was unable to process an appropriate response, and that's when you realized everything. You tried to control your tears, just as you had done all day long, but you couldn't do it anymore. As soon as your tears began to fall down your face, you saw the pilot leaving the box he was holding on the ground, and coming closer to you to hug you. At first, you resisted, but you gave in when, once again, his arms became your refuge.

"The day I asked you out I told you we were going to have many first times, do you remember?" he said softly. You nodded, remembering how nervous you were all that day. "Don't you want us to celebrate our first Valentine's Day together in a special way?"

Valentine's Day.

Today was February 14th.

It couldn’t be true.

You quickly moved away from Seb and looked around. Now everything made sense.

Everything he had been preparing was for you... or at least, that's what you believed.

"What do you mean Valentine's Day?" you blurted out, unable to hide your surprise.

"Well, Valentine's Day today, Y/N. You know… the day when couples, or almost couples, or I don't know, do things for each other, and..."

"So you don't want to break up with me?"

You let it out so quickly, without letting him finish speaking and without thinking. You burst into tears once again. Now you felt much stupider than before, but above all, you felt bad because you had earned the title of the worst girlfriend in the world. Seb had done all this for you, and all you had done was pay him back by speaking badly to him, thinking he was cheating on you, and of course, not buying him the vinyl he wanted.

"Break up with you?" You knew that right now he probably wanted to tell you anything but nice things. That he had hugged you again, and, above all, that his voice conveyed calm said a lot about him. "Y/N, where do you get those ideas from?"

"It's just that..." You inhaled and exhaled before looking up at him. You couldn't speak badly to him again, especially not for something that had been the result of your insecurity. "Everything today made me think you wanted to end it. The breakfast, leaving me stranded at the cinema... I thought you were getting ready to tell me you were getting back with Hanna," you finished saying.

Seb, after hearing that, held you even tighter against his chest.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry if I made you feel that way," he apologized. "All of this was to do something special for our first Valentine's together, not to ruin it. I know I messed up, and you have no idea how much I regret losing control over certain things because it's the last thing you deserved."

He seemed quite repentant, and that made you feel even worse.

"Do you want to see what's in here?" he said, pointing to the box still on the ground. "I've prepared it for you," he whispered shyly. "I just hope you like it; if not, you can tell me without any problem."

"I haven't bought you anything," was all you could reply.

"It's okay, love. I prepared all this for you because I wanted to, and also because you deserve it, not because I wanted anything in return."

You tried not to overthink anymore. You sat on the ground, on the blanket and beside the box. With your hands slightly trembling, you started to slowly tear the wrapping paper. Seb sat next to you, too close, giving you an unexpected kiss on the cheek and not bothering to move an inch away from you.

The first thing you saw was a pile of confetti, which you didn't hesitate to push aside, revealing a wide variety of all kinds of sweets, especially your favorites, along with small details of stationary supplies that you remembered seeing in that stationery store and that had caught your attention.

In the center were two small gifts wrapped as well as possible, each with an envelope attached with your name, written perfectly in light blue capital letters.

"This is too much, Seb," you honestly exclaimed, turning to him. "Now I understand why you've been asking me if I liked certain things and then you would return to the stores just to come out with a bag that you wouldn't let me see..."

"I know it's been very wrong on my part, but I think the little scare I gave you was worth it. Just look at the beautiful and happy face you have right now," he revealed, laughing, squeezing your cheeks.

And here you were, thinking he was going to break up with you...

Definitely, you didn't deserve Sebastian Vettel.

"First, you have to read the note from the envelope carefully," the German explained carefully, "and then try to guess what it could be."

"And after all that, can I open it?" you innocently asked, although the answer was more than obvious.

"Of course. Here, try this one first."

He took the rectangular gift and handed it to you. Before reading anything, you started to make assumptions about what it could be, but you were so overwhelmed that you decided to finish your task within a few seconds.

With eagerness, you carefully opened the envelope so as not to tear it because you were going to keep it until the end of time to remember this day, and, with a bit of optimism, to be able to show it to your children someday if you were still together.

"Can you read it out loud for me, princess? I don't remember what it says."

You said that, fortunately or unfortunately, you had finished the first gift I gave you. I hope this second part is as good, or even better, than the first one," you read aloud and clearly. "P.S.: I hope from now on you write more, and better, about me."

You looked up and saw Seb smiling.

"Do you know what it could be?" he wanted to know.

Of course you did.

"Y/N's diary, part two."

He didn't say anything else although his half-smile had formed almost automatically, saying it all. With a slight nod of his head, he gave you the go-ahead to open it, and so you did. As soon as you got rid of the wrapping paper you saw a notebook that you would now use as a diary, and which, like the previous one, had a plain color and a photo of you both after the victory of his first world championship, your first photo, in Polaroid format.

"Seb... I don't know what to say..."

"Don't say anything yet because there's another one here."

He handed you the second gift. This one had the form of a square and, by feeling it, you realized it didn't have just one envelope, but two. This second one, on the back, was much larger. Before you could take a look, Seb removed it and hid it behind his back, as if he were a little kid not wanting anyone to take away a candy from him.

"First the small one, which is the one you'll like the least," he clarified in a childish tone.

"Okay, okay..."

Just as you did with the previous one, you carefully tore open the envelope, opened it, and read the note out loud:

I see sparks fly whenever you smile. Get me with those eyes, baby, as the lights go down.

It couldn't be true.

You were so excited that you didn't even make guesses about what it could be. You tore the paper, now eagerly and with so much force that you saw an album falling to the ground.

As soon as you read Speak now on the cover, and saw a blonde girl wearing a purple dress, you let out a muffled scream.

“Taylor Swift's albums, Seb?! Seriously?!”

Taylor Swift and Fearless were also in the small package, and now the excitement was overwhelming. You screamed like you hadn't in a long time. You stood up, and seeing Seb doing the same, you threw yourself into his arms and kissed him like you had never kissed him before, like he truly deserved to be kissed.

"If you're like this over three albums, how are you going to react when you see this?"

Without saying anything else, he handed you the larger envelope.

You hesitated whether to take it or not because his face was totally expressionless, although his eyes hinted that he was eager for you to know what was inside.

Tickets for the Speak Now World Tour. Impossible.

"Seb, tickets have been sold out for quite a while now..." you stuttered, unable to look him in the eyes because you didn't want him to see you cry over this. "You know I've been looking everywhere for months and haven't found anything..."

"Well, but you're lucky to have found a boyfriend who’s a Formula 1 driver and has certain privileges," he said, forcing you to hug him. "I think you already know how we're going to celebrate the fourth anniversary of the day we met."

"You still remember?"

You pulled your head from his chest to look at him. His eyes were shiny, probably like yours were. The moment you saw him nod was when you couldn't contain your tears, and he couldn't control his either.

"How could I forget the day I met you, Y/N? It was March 13th, I'll never forget it," you were surprised he remembered, but what could you expect from this guy? "You met me in 2008, and in 2012 I promise you'll meet Taylor as surely as my name is Sebastian. Since we have to go to Australia for the first Grand Prix of the year it's no problem if we leave a few days earlier."

"You must be kidding," was all you could say in a voice so low that only you heard it.

You remained standing even as you saw him sit down and start to open the bag containing the takeout food he had ordered.

"Love, I don't know what you'd prefer first, so I'll put a bit of everything on the plate for you, and if you don't want more, I'll eat it myself or we can save it for tomorrow, okay?"

You sat down beside him, perhaps too close for you both to be able to dine quietly and comfortably, but in those moments, you think neither of you cared in the slightest.

"I'm really sorry I didn't get you anything sunshine," you said as you picked up a glass of gazpacho. "Honestly, I completely forgot, and I won't lie to you: I've never celebrated Valentine's Day, so..."

"Don't worry about that, babe. Don't you dare to think about gifts or anything," he interrupted, leaving his plate of food on the blanket and wrapping his arms around you, taking your chin and forcing you to look at him. "From now on, we're going to celebrate everything," he stole a kiss from you and then pulled away. "But I don't want you to give me anything, alright? The best gift not only for Valentine's Day, but for life, is you, and nothing and no one in the world will surpass you, okay?"

"Okay, sunshine."

"Y/N," he called you a few seconds later as he started eating. "You're the best thing that’s ever been mine.”

You smiled and ate, trying not to choke, enjoying Seb's effort to sing Mine as best as possible while also trying to keep the piece of tortilla in his hands from breaking.

You felt happy, and you were afraid it would be snatched away from you at any moment. You allowed yourself the luxury of not thinking about it, and as your voices joined together in unison in the chorus of the song, you couldn't help but think that on days like today, your boyfriend, your partner, the only person who had trusted you to rise in Formula 1, the blond German who had hurt you only to fix it afterwards, the one you risked considering the love of your life, was the one who made everything worthwhile.

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