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baepsays · 14 hours ago

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Love Hangover⸻ Gojo Satoru x reader

synopsis: "Call me back. Call me back. Call me back." — love hangover by Jennie & Dominic Fike

Cw: toxic relationship, emotional cheating, manipulation, just sex and NSFW stuff, choking (took something from the mv and applied it where I think they implied it :3 ), lot of back and forth, use of the word 'bitch' to refer to the reader (not by Gojo), hate sex, oral sex, fem anatomy, no particular use of pronouns for reader, lowkey angst sorryyy, they are just both pretty shitty lol. Mention of alcohol consumption and cigarettes

'Call me back' received. 2.13AM

You and Gojo Satoru might be great people, your respective friends will agree. But when you're together it's as if all hell breaks loose. They do not understand. Neither do you two. He makes you so unlike yourself, so unrecognizable, it's often difficult for you to fathom the person you become around him.

He becomes an unbearable prick; controlling and smothering you, simply too much for you to handle. In return you become a shady bitch; criticizing his every gesture. “Roses instead of lilies? Did you confuse me for someone else?” One day you would be joking over the dinner you made him, next day you would be wishing he was dead. Going through his phone, shouting at him and asking if he is speaking to his exes, was a regular occurrence. Then you won’t talk altogether, but just fight constantly—while lying under your covers together, while eating, on the phone, in public— just making things harder for everyone and yourselves. Until one of you goes;

‘I’m over, I'm so over.’

But you two would always end up where you started. One coincidental meeting with Gojo Satoru somewhere, anywhere, could be that you're across the street from each other; sitting in different restaurants, with different people— and that would be enough for both of you. Doesn't matter he has some girl hanging off his arms. Or the fact you are on a second date with some guy, thinking this might be something serious; a single, double, triple back from him, and suddenly the fact that he was still entertaining his date while you could practically feel his gaze burning your skin, won’t matter—not that it did not bother you. In fact, to put it simply, you do not really mind when he plays you. Because you two will always end up back in each other’s arms.

‘One minute, we're growin' apart, and next, I'm in her apartment.’

And here you go again. Doesn't matter how many times either of you tell yourselves and your friends that ‘I swear I'll never do it again!’ But you always do it again, and again, and again. He always ends up ringing your doorbell, unannounced. Does not matter you did not pick up his calls, does not matter you did not answer his texts— One “Call me back” at 2 AM, then suddenly he is at your door. And you know he will be there. No matter what, you two always end up in front of each other’s doors. You may not answer his texts or calls; but when you open the door for him and beckon him inside, he will always be welcomed with two glasses of wine. For the sake of the pretense of wanting to have a civil conversation over wine like two grown adults, finally resolving this push and pull and drawing a firm boundary— is all a faux excuse. you still have the keys to his place, and he still has the keys to yours. And they are not being returned any time soon.

In a flash you're on your couch, back arching off from its surface and fingernails digging in and ruining the fabric. Again. The other hand would be a tangled mess in his hair. The bigger mess would be pooled under you and around his mouth. Again. Eating you out like he has never before, or he might never again. But he knows better than that.

So, you would start all over again. Things would be blissful for a while. Sweet talking, going on dates, reminiscing about everything which was good. Thinking this time you would take it slow. Take your time with just hanging out and getting to know each other all over again, promising to not repeat the past. All over again. Though when you two would go out for dinner, all that talk would bore you to death. It is not that you feel like staying with Satoru because of who he is, in fact the more you think about that the more it makes you want to leave him, but you want nothing more than to keep him around, forever. And Satoru knows that, hates that really. Always thinking “what's up with that?” — but just as the waiter would bring out the check, you would gaze at him all sultry and go,

"Let's head to mine."

And all Satoru would be able to utter is , "Okay, awesome."

Subsequently, there would be just lots, lots of sex. Spending days in bed; skipping work, calling in sick, flaking on friends and practically going missing. And everyone would already know what to expect, nothing new, just the cycle repeating itself.

Spending days in each other’s company giggling about, high on sex and the thrill of having each other back. Then the nights would pass with him being buried, as deep as he possibly can be, inside of you. Just spending nights watching you get naked instead of watching the movie he chose himself— roaming his hands all over every ridge and curve on your body, encoding new details, leaving kisses and marks all over you. Places where everyone will be able to see, but also places only he would be able to access; tucked away safe even from your own eyes. Letting the muscles inside your pussy hug him snug, fitting like she has never known anyone but him, because even she knows no matter who comes and goes— his shape will stay.

As soon as he would get his hopes back up again. Just as soon the momentary bliss would be unexpectedly cut short. One day you are holding each other to sleep after indulging in each other’s bodies, the next moment you are shaking his hands off you and he is waking up with cold sweat all over him. Then you would stop reciprocating his kisses, leaving his lips cracking. Giving short and curt replies to questions, getting irritated over small things. Not that this is unprovoked. Unknowingly to Satoru, before he could delete the texts from the girls flooding his phone and block their numbers; you saw it all.

Back to square one. Fights and nights spent away from each other doing reckless stuff to provoke each other. Because why are you kissing his eyelids and calling him your one and only one moment, and then accusing him of ruining your life another day.

Soon enough you’re going to a club and letting people openly hit on you. Ignoring his calls and texts, to a point he has no choice but to pull up your location (do not ask how he got that). Then letting him drag you back to his place, shout out profanities at you, rip off every piece of clothing from your body. Doing nothing about him pushing you face down on the bed, pulling on the necklace— which he gave you—on your throat from behind and practically choking you, as the necklace leaves behind marks on top of the marks he previously left behind with his lips and teeth. As he thrusts himself inside you, mercilessly, not even letting you turn back around, putting all his body weight on yours— very literally smothering as always. One hand keeping a firm grasp on your throat while the other comes down to place slaps on your thighs and ass, from time to time. You would barely phrase something between loud moans and whines, “F- fuck you.”

“You are. As always” all he would reply with with a singular impactful thrust.

Next morning he would wake up to empty, cold, and wet sheets. A singular half burnt cigarette would be lying on his bedside table, from the stash of cigarettes in his dresser, despite the fact he does not smoke. And a bottle of whisky would be gone from his collection, even though he does not enjoy whisky. All that would be left of your immediate presence, are the shredded to nothing flimsy pair of painties, which you wore last night. Not like you ever went out of his apartment with the same panties you entered through his doors with.

Concurrently you would be drowning in alcohol, shooting glasses of shots after another to cure the hangover from the day before. You were not one to drink, but you were also not one to be irrational. Yet here you are, hungover and functioning on autopilot. If anyone asked what is wrong, you would not have an answer. Though you do know what this is, the need to never get over this hangover, instead perpetuating and fostering it. Because you know better than anyone that no alcohol will relieve the itch in your throat the way the whisky in Satoru’s cabinet burns down your chest, and alleviates you. You can buy similar whisky, the same brand even, or maybe even a wine or rum— but it won’t taste the same, it won’t get you drunk the same.

‘I swore l'd never do it again.’

And after a month, Satoru would wake up to a singular missed call from you.

‘you know I'm gonna do it again.’

a/n: dividers by @/dollywons & @/aquazero, header from the mv for the said song. essentially saw @jumpinglillies talking about wanting to read a Satoru fic based on this song, thanks to them for bringing the song to my attention i hope this lives up to your expectations <3

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

FEEL FREE TO SEND ASKS ABOUT ANYTHING AND LEAVE A COMMENT WITHIN MY BOUNDARIES I WOULD MUCH APPRECIATE THEM <3

tag list: @madamechrissy @cuntphoric @moonlitwitchdaisy @rriwyu @gojocon @aishi-toru @cuntyji @arcanarix @lover-lyn @kazupop

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tricoloreddango · 2 days ago

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dutiful boyfriend

Summary: Phainon wants to apply a lotion on your body; however, his intention are not so innocent.

Yandere Phainon x female reader

contents: nudity / dub-con|non-con touching (lotion application with groping) / obsession / smutty (nipple play) / female cycle mentions / patronizing behavior / forced relationship / mentions of suffocating (paranoid) /

Word count: 1.3k

Not suitable for minors.

No matter how much Phainon’s presence could have been suffocating for you, with him wanting to be in your space and have your attention 24/7, he has never relented.

That’s why you both just took a bath together. Another excuse to have you close to him, with his intention hidden under a false reasoning of couple activities and Amphoreus’s bathing culture. Anyone else who didn’t know the true nature of your relationship would think he’s just a clingy boyfriend, maybe like a puppy with separation anxiety; but you knew better.

He has held you tight to his chest the entire time of taking a bath together, sitting behind you. Washing you was included too, disguised as him wanting to take care of you and help you relax. Yet in never felt like anything else other than invasive and vulnerability-forcing.

However, your stressful situation of your peace and space being intruded wasn’t over just because you left the bathtub. Another part of him taking care of you was meant to be him applying a lotion for you too, right after he wiped you clean with a a towel to make it all invasive.

“Phainon… I can do it myself,” you said nervously when you saw him grab a bottle of lotion from the counter of the sink. He already did everything for you, making you feel so incompetent and out of control of your own life or even body. You didn’t know if you can handle more of his touch either.

“Nonsense!” he responded in a chirpy voice. “I just want to take care of you. You needn’t to lift even a finger,” he said with a smile and winked at you. Phainon stood right in front of you and pumped out few squirts of rose-scented lotion. Each pump made your heart pound like a thunder. He already was touchy on regular basis, but wanting to spread something all over your naked body felt even more unsafe and humiliating without a close barrier to protect you. Regardless, some part of you wanted to believe he was just being nice… even if it felt rather infantilizing and pushy to have everything done for you.

No, it was maddening when you were treated like someone who couldn’t take care of herself. The question was whether Phainon shared your sentiments.

“Okay…” you finally gave in. You knew he’d keep wearing you down if you say no anyway.

“Thank you, my love! Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” he said softly with another smile, although his eyes were a different story—watching you like a hawk, not hiding an unhealthy obsession with you.

Despite you agreeing, it didn’t make you feel any less anxious from anticipation of waiting for his hands to be put on you.

When Phainon finally did so, a hope filled you somewhat. He was just applying it on your shoulders and arms first, not in any suggestive way.

Only for your stomach to be churned when he got onto your chest after few more pumps of lotion to gather and spread.

He wasn’t just applying lotion. No, his hands lingered on your breasts for way too long. He was doing more than rubbing your breasts—his hands were squeezing them in circling motions, and you had to bite down on a moan, both sensitive and startled. “P-phainon, what are you doing?”

“Me?” he said innocently, “Didn’t you say your breasts are tender before period? I’m just helping you, I’ve heard a massage can help…”

“Yes, but…” you protested weakly, feeling as if he wasn’t entirely truthful.

“No buts, pretty girl,” he said with a reassurance and kissed your forehead to further convince you. “Now…” His fingers were now onto your nipples, rubbing their sides between his digits. You yelped, feeling a spark of both slight pain and involuntary arousal. He smiled a little.

“Phainon…” you said unsurely, “I am fine, really…”

You moaned when he gently pinched your buds that were growing sturdy. “Some pleasure should relieve your pain, I think.”

‘I think’—he wasn’t even sure if he had to do this, yet he gambled and put you through unnecessary humiliation.

Right when your body was getting more eager, he finally stopped. To your displeasure, for some reason you felt disappointed. “Do they feel better?” he asked hopefully. You nodded immediately in case he wanted to drag this out.

“Perfect. Just a few more places are left to moisturize…”

Few more pumps.

Next was stomach and back. He didn’t make it any weird thankfully, although with your legs he dragged his hands down and up them, making you extremely nerved when he was reaching more intimate areas.

You felt tears build up when his hands landed on your backside. Phainon even forced your body pressed tightly against his to get closer to that area, chest to chest and with his face buried in your neck. His lips were teasing your skin, as if you weren’t overwhelmed already. Your eyes didn’t need to witness his expression, as he knew you wouldn’t like the truth.

You felt his skin against yours, which only intensified the sense of being naked but in more symbolic sense than simply touch and nudity. “How can you be so beautiful, hm?” he teased, making you squirm as his voice vibrated against your neck. “You’re unreal, really…” he murmured contentedly, thinking about its just him in your life.

His words didn’t cause any sense of being flattered in you. You just wanted to leave this bathroom to signalize the end of this torment.

“I’m getting cold,” you tried to lie as you felt him massage and squeeze your flesh. “Don’t worry, I’m keeping you warm. You should feel warmer soon,” he said gently.

You did feel warm, albeit it felt like an unpleasant sweaty sensation than comforting one. When he looked up at you he wiped your few tears with a loving look that felt out of place for your distress. “Oh, my bad, I didn’t realize you’re that sensitive. It must be an overstimulation,” his tone was apologetic and worried, but the real reason of your tears remained unspoken; though you had to admit that even the scent of rose hanging in the air felt now too irritating to your nose. “I’ll make the rest of the process quick for your sake.” When you nodded and he gave you a quick kiss, making you experience a lot of relief that this torture was nearing the end, your joy was quickly diminished.

Few more pumps.

He was moisturizing your mound. Your eyes widened and you tried to close your legs in panic but he swiftly forced them open. “Don’t be ungrateful,” his voice was suddenly cold, making you freeze from the shock in sudden change in his mood. That kept you unmoving, scared you end up provoking him further even if you weren’t at fault here.

Fortunately for you his hand didn’t wander deeper between your thighs, leaving your most intimate place untouched… though you didn’t know if it’s a good thing—maybe it was merely a begging of some game, and he was taking you slowly part by part, hence he left the best for later.

“Good girl,” he praised at your compliance, and when he sounded soft again you had to do a double check to know whether you didn’t only imagine him being aggressive a second ago.

Last pump. Phainon’s left hand gathered your hair up to reveal your neck and not stain your hair with crème, and the other quickly spread the product around your throat. Despite him not hurting you, a sense of paranoia and claustrophobic pressure was there with his palm on this place—a worry about both being suffocated both literally and figuratively. You ever doubted he’d lay a hand on you; it was just a fear caused by having your entire existence have him all over your life everyday.

You exhaled deeply when he finally put the bottle away. “All smooth and soft, just like you should be. Not to mention how good you smell…”

You squirmed when his finger traced your arm down, wanting to experience how silky your skin was now…

You really had no idea how much he craved you just from simple gestures like this. Every part of you had a deeper meaning to Phainon, and you were desirable both physically and simply because it was you.

He smiled widely, all enthusiastic. “Now we can go to bed and rest. Don’t worry, I’ll help you put on your clothes too.”

I really can’t stop writing this type of Phainon…

#yandere phainon x reader #phainon x reader #cw noncon #cw yandere #phainon x you #☆—tcdwrites #yandere hsr x reader

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charmed-quill · 21 hours ago

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The Bet// F.W x Reader Part 2

authors note at end

Summary: Fred Weasley and y/n make a bet: whoever gets a date to the Yule Ball first wins. But what starts as harmless competition devolves into full-blown war.

Word count: 4.7k

Previous Part

Look, Fred Weasley wasn’t the worst person in the world to go to the Yule Ball with.

Not y/n’s first choice, not by a long shot, but also not the worst.

Still, standing in her dorm, adjusting her dress for what felt like the millionth time, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off.

It wasn’t like Fred had never seen her in a dress before. They’d been friends for six years, of course he had.

But this?

This was different. The whole "dressing up" thing was throwing her for a loop.

The last time she wore something this fancy was her cousin’s wedding when she was ten, and even then, she had hated every second of it. She still remembered the way the lace had itched against her skin, how uncomfortable the frilly socks had been inside her too-tight shoes.

But this dress it wasn’t stiff or scratchy, wasn’t something her mum had picked out last minute.

It was hers.

And it looked…good.

Angelina had swept her hair into an elegant bun, leaving just a few soft curls framing her face, while Alicia had carefully applied her makeup, just enough to highlight her features without making her feel like she was wearing a mask.

Y/n barely recognized herself.

It was uncanny, looking in the mirror and seeing someone who actually—Merlin forbid—looked pretty.

She swallowed, fingers tightening slightly on the fabric of her dress.

It was just one night. Just Fred. Nothing had to change.

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, ignoring the way her stomach flipped at the thought of heading downstairs.

—

Fred stood by the fireplace, hands stuffed in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The common room buzzed with energy, students heading off to the Great Hall in clusters, adjusting dress robes and exchanging last-minute compliments.

George, Lee, Angelina, and Alicia had left just moments ago, after much teasing and knowing smirks thrown his way. She’ll be down in a moment, they had assured him before disappearing through the portrait hole.

But it had been more than a moment.

Fred huffed, glancing up the dormitory stairs. Had she changed her mind? He wouldn’t blame her. Their whole arrangement, or whatever you’d call it, was far from ideal. A last-minute truce , born out of mutual stubbornness and sabotage. He knew y/n hadn’t exactly been thrilled about going with him.

Still… part of him didn’t want to be left standing alone in the common room like some abandoned fool.

With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and took a step toward the stairs. If she wasn’t coming down, he’d bloody well—

The door opened.

Fred froze.

His words, his thoughts, everything slammed to a stop as y/n stepped into the warm glow of the common room.

She looked…

Merlin.

Fred wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, he’d seen her in dresses before, plenty of times.

But this? This was something else entirely.

The firelight cast a golden hue over her, catching on the delicate fabric of her dress as it moved with her. Her hair, swept up with effortless elegance, framed her face in soft tendrils, highlighting the curve of her jaw and the brightness of her eyes. Her makeup was subtle, just enough to make every little detail stand out, her lips, her cheekbones, the way her lashes fluttered slightly as she scanned the room.

She was beautiful.

And Fred?

Fred was stunned.

He barely managed to school his expression before she looked up, meeting his gaze.

"Got tired of waiting?" she teased, stepping forward, smoothing her hands over the fabric of her dress.

Fred cleared his throat, forcing himself to breathe properly. "Thought you’d done a runner," he said, managing a smirk. "Was ready to heroically charge up the stairs and rescue you."

Y/n rolled her eyes. "You just wanted an excuse to break into the girls' dormitory."

Fred chuckled, but it came out almost nervous, and since when was he, nervous around her?

His eyes flicked over her once more, like his brain was still trying to process that this was actually y/n standing in front of him.

"You clean up alright, y/l/n," he said, voice lighter, teasing, though there was something else beneath it—something even he wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, tilting her chin slightly. "Just alright?"

Fred grinned, stepping closer, offering her his arm. "Don’t get a big head about it."

She huffed, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes, something challenging, something thrilling.

As she looped her arm through his, Fred couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this arrangement wasn’t as terrible as he had thought.

—-

Fred and y/n stepped through the entrance to the Great Hall, and for the first time that night, neither of them had anything to say.

The entire space had been transformed.

The usual long house tables were gone, replaced by elegant round ones draped in shimmering fabric, flickering candlelight bouncing off crystal goblets and golden plates. The ceiling was enchanted to reflect a breathtaking winter sky, soft flakes of snow drifting lazily down before vanishing just above their heads. Ice sculptures lined the edges of the hall, carved into delicate figures that seemed to move when you weren’t looking. The chandeliers overhead twinkled like a thousand tiny stars.

It was… stunning.

Fred let out a low whistle, eyes sweeping over the scene. "Blimey," he muttered. "They really went all out, huh?"

Y/n didn’t answer right away.

She was still taking it all in, her gaze moving from the enchanted icicles hanging from the balconies to the grand staircase leading to the raised dance floor. She had never seen the castle look like this before, so ethereal, so dreamlike.

It almost felt unreal, like stepping into some sort of fairytale.

Fred glanced at her, catching the way her eyes shone under the candlelight, the soft parting of her lips as she stared in quiet wonder.

Something shifted in his chest.

"You alright there, y/l/n?" His voice was teasing, but noticeably softer than usual.

Y/n blinked, snapping out of whatever spell the Great Hall had cast over her. "Yeah," she said, glancing up at him. "It’s just… I dunno. I wasn’t expecting it to be so—"

"Romantic?" Fred finished, raising an eyebrow, his smirk playful but his voice lighter.

Y/n scoffed, nudging him with her elbow. "I was gonna say impressive, but sure, Weasley. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Fred chuckled, but he didn’t tease her back. Instead, he let his gaze linger for just a second longer than necessary.

The music swelled in the background, students filing in around them, laughter and chatter filling the air. The entire evening stretched before them, full of possibilities neither of them had really considered until now.

Fred shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on her arm before tilting his head down toward her. "Guess we better get on with it, then," he murmured.

Y/n met his gaze, something flickering between them that neither of them wanted to name just yet.

With a quiet breath, she nodded.

Y/n stood beside Fred, her hands clasped in front of her as she watched the champions and their dates take to the center of the dance floor. The music started soft and elegant, a slow waltz drifting through the air, filling the Great Hall with something delicate, almost fragile. The enchanted ceiling reflected the winter sky, stars glittering overhead like they had been placed there just for this moment. Snowflakes spiraled lazily down before vanishing into shimmering wisps of light.

It was beautiful.

She had never seen Hogwarts like this before. Had never felt this kind of stillness, this quiet anticipation that wrapped around her like a whisper. The usual laughter and chaos of the Great Hall had been replaced by something softer, something weighty in its beauty.

She stole a glance at Fred.

He was watching the dancers, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth like he was amused by the whole thing, but there was something else there, too. A quietness she wasn’t used to seeing in him.

And that was when it hit her

Something felt different tonight.

They had been friends for years, partners in crime, rivals in pranks, always pushing and pulling, always toeing the line between bickering and camaraderie. But this, standing here beside him in a ballroom full of flickering candlelight, the warmth of his arm just inches from hers, the way he had looked at her when she had walked down those dormitory steps,

It didn’t feel the same.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, not exactly. But it was new. Like she had stepped into something she hadn’t expected, something unfamiliar but thrilling all the same.

The music swelled, couples twirling across the dance floor in graceful, sweeping movements, and suddenly, she was hyper-aware of Fred beside her. Of the way his fingers twitched slightly at his sides, like he was debating something.

She swallowed.

"Getting bored already?" she asked, keeping her voice light, teasing, as if nothing in the world had changed.

Fred turned his head, his gaze flickering to hers. He smirked, but not in his usual way, not in the way that made her roll her eyes or shove his shoulder. This was something softer, something amused and knowing all at once.

"Nah," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "Just waiting to see if you trip over your own feet when we dance."

Y/n scoffed, nudging him with her elbow. "Bold of you to assume I’ll dance with you at all."

Fred chuckled, looking back at the floor. "We’ll see about that, y/l/n."

And something about the way he said it sent warmth curling through her chest.

She exhaled slowly, turning her attention back to the dancers, pretending she wasn’t thinking about the way his voice had dipped just slightly, or the way her stomach had flipped at the sound of it.

Y/n barely had time to protest before Fred was tugging her toward the dance floor, his grip firm but light as he grinned down at her, mischief dancing in his eyes.

"Come on, y/l/n," he teased, his voice low enough that it sent a strange, warm shiver down her spine. "Let’s show them how it’s done."

She rolled her eyes but let him lead her anyway, her fingers curling against the fabric of his robes as they moved into the sea of swirling couples. The candlelight flickered overhead, casting soft golden glows against the ice sculptures, the music swelling around them in a gentle rhythm.

Fred slid a hand to her waist, his touch lighter than expected, and lifted their joined hands. "Try not to step on my toes, yeah?"

Y/n huffed, settling her free hand on his shoulder. "I’d worry more about your own coordination, Weasley. We both know you’re all limbs and recklessness."

Fred chuckled, the sound low and warm, and for a second, she forgot they were in the middle of a crowded ballroom, surrounded by students, teachers, and swirling magic.

"You know," he mused as they moved to the beat, "I don’t think we ever settled our bet."

Y/n raised a brow, amused. "Oh? And what exactly needs settling? I’d say it was a draw at best."

Fred scoffed, spinning her suddenly, pulling her effortlessly back into his arms before she even had time to process it. "A draw?" he echoed, shaking his head. "No, no, no. I clearly won. You were the one who asked me, remember?"

Y/n narrowed her eyes, her fingers tightening slightly against his shoulder. "That is not how I remember it."

Fred grinned. "Sounds like selective memory to me, love."

She huffed. "Fine. Even if I asked you first, which I didn’t, you were already on your way to ask me."

"Exactly!" Fred said triumphantly. "Which means I still would’ve won in the end."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but there was no real heat behind it.

Because the truth was, she wasn’t even thinking about the bet anymore.

She wasn’t thinking about the competition or the weeks of sabotage.

She was thinking about the way Fred’s hand rested so easily at her waist, how effortless it felt to fall into step with him, how his grin softened when he looked at her now—like maybe this wasn’t just about winning anymore.

And that realization sent her stomach flipping in ways she wasn’t prepared for.

She exhaled slowly, focusing on keeping her voice steady. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

Fred smirked, tugging her just a little closer as they turned with the music. "And yet, here you are, dancing with me anyway."

Y/n swallowed, feeling that damn warmth creep into her chest again, curling beneath her ribs, making it increasingly difficult to remind herself that this was just Fred.

Just Fred Weasley.

Her best friend.

Her rival.

Her date.

And, Merlin help her, something about that last word felt different now.

Dancing with Fred Weasley was dangerously easy.

Y/n had expected him to be all awkward footwork and dramatic spins meant to throw her off balance, but instead, he led her through the steps effortlessly, his grip firm but light, his movements confident without being cocky.

The warmth of his palm at her waist sent a slow heat curling in her stomach, something she tried desperately to ignore.

Because it was just Fred.

Fred, who she had spent the last several weeks sabotaging. Fred, who had annoyed her beyond reason since they were twelve. Fred, who, despite all of that, made her laugh more than anyone else ever had.

And maybe that was the problem.

Because something had been shifting between them, something she had been too stubborn to see before tonight.

The music changed to something slower, couples swaying close, and Fred leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear.

"Alright, y/l/n," he murmured, his tone far too smug. "Who do you reckon is shagging who by the end of the night?"

Y/n snorted, instantly snapping out of whatever ridiculous romantic haze had been creeping up on her.

"Subtle, Weasley," she said dryly, shooting a glance around the ballroom.

Her eyes landed on Jack Carmichael and his date, who had definitely been sneaking off toward a shadowy alcove near the back of the hall. She nodded toward them.

"That one’s a given," she said. "He’s been trying to get her out of here for the last half-hour."

Fred followed her gaze, chuckling. "Bet you ten Sickles he barely makes it up the stairs before she tells him to piss off."

Y/n grinned. "You’re on."

Fred twirled her unexpectedly, pulling her back in a little closer than before, and she hated the way her breath caught.

Get it together, she scolded herself.

Fred’s eyes flicked toward the table where a few sixth-years were gathered, drinking out of goblets that definitely weren’t filled with pumpkin juice.

"Alright, new bet," he said. "Who snuck in the booze?"

Y/n scanned the room, eyes narrowing. "I’d say Nathaniel Burke, but he’s an idiot and would’ve gotten caught already."

Fred smirked. "True. So?"

She exhaled through her nose, thinking, then grinned. "My money’s on Lillian Moore. She looks too innocent. It’s always the innocent ones."

Fred laughed, his grip at her waist tightening briefly. "You know, y/l/n, you might be onto something."

Y/n opened her mouth to throw another sarcastic remark his way, but something in her chest twisted unexpectedly when he smiled at her.

Something warm, something alarming, something that had been creeping in for weeks without her permission.

Because suddenly she was remembering every little moment leading up to this

The way he had looked at her when she first stepped into the common room tonight. The way he had teased her but never once insulted her. The way he had waited for her reaction before taking her hand, before leading her into this dance.

And, Merlin help her, she realized all at once that this hadn’t just started tonight.

It had been building for weeks.

Every time he had grinned at her, every time they had gone back and forth with playful insults, every time their arguments had felt more like flirting than fighting

She had been falling for Fred Weasley.

And she hadn’t even noticed until now.

The thought was so overwhelming that she nearly stepped on his foot.

Fred raised an eyebrow. "That hesitation, was that you losing the bet already?"

Y/n blinked, snapping herself out of it. "Absolutely not."

Fred chuckled, shaking his head, completely unaware of the internal crisis she was currently having.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on the banter, on the laughter, on anything except the fact that she was looking at him differently now.

Because the second she acknowledged it?

She knew there would be no going back.

—-

Fred leaned back against the wall, his butterbeer warm in his hands, the golden glow of the Great Hall flickering over y/n’s face as she took a sip of her own.

She was grinning, her lips still curled in amusement from whatever ridiculous bet they had just made, her eyes bright despite the dim lighting. She was leaning slightly toward him, like it was natural, like it had always been that way.

And maybe it had.

Fred took a slow sip of his drink, pretending he wasn’t completely distracted by her.

By the way she looked tonight. By the way she always looked, if he was being honest.

And suddenly, it hit him.

This wasn’t new.

This feeling, this warmth curling in his chest, the way he kept catching himself looking at her longer than necessary, this hadn’t come out of nowhere. It had been building, sneaking up on him so slowly he hadn’t even noticed it.

It was there in the little moments, moments he could suddenly recall with sharp, stupid clarity.

Like the time she had shoved a stolen Chocolate Frog into his pocket during first year, grinning as she whispered, “Take the fall for me, Weasley.”

Or the time she had patched him up in second year when one of his own pranks had backfired, muttering the whole time about “how much of an idiot he was”, but her hands had been so gentle as she wiped the blood off his chin.

Or the way she always seemed to understand him, even when he didn’t say anything.

The way she could read his moods better than anyone else could, the way she knew when he needed a joke and when he needed quiet.

The way she never treated him like a joke, even when he made himself one.

Fred swallowed, staring at his butterbeer like it held all the answers.

He hadn’t meant to feel like this.

Hadn’t meant to notice how pretty she looked when she was focused on something, or how her nose scrunched when she was thinking, or how her eyes lit up when she was about to start an argument with him.

But here he was.

And for the first time, he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.

"Oi, Weasley," y/n nudged him with her elbow, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Fred blinked, forcing himself to smirk. "Y’know, y/l/n, if you wanted to get close to me, you could’ve just asked."

She scoffed. "Please, I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t passed out. You looked a little dazed there."

Fred chuckled, shaking his head. "Just thinking."

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous habit for you."

Fred snorted, taking another sip of his drink.

Yeah.

Dangerous indeed.

The Great Hall had gotten too much.

Too crowded, too warm, too many couples tucked into corners, whispering to each other like the entire world had disappeared around them. Everywhere Fred turned, there was some overly romantic display, some sickeningly sweet gesture, and Merlin help him, he needed fresh air.

So, naturally, he grabbed y/n’s hand.

"Come on," he muttered, already tugging her toward the doors before she could argue.

Y/n let him, though he could feel her curious gaze on him as they slipped out of the hall, the sound of music and chatter fading behind them.

"Where exactly are we going, Weasley?" she asked as they stepped into the cool night air.

Fred inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air fill his lungs. "Anywhere but in there. Too many people snogging like their lives depend on it."

Y/n snorted. "Jealous?"

Fred rolled his eyes, nudging her with his shoulder. "Oh, absolutely. Watching Kevin Whitby nearly eat his date’s face off was thrilling."

Y/n gagged. "Disgusting. Alright, lead the way."

And so they walked.

The path leading away from the castle was quiet, save for the faint sounds of the ball still drifting from the open windows. The stars above were bright, the sky clear, and the lake stretched before them like a dark, endless mirror. The wind was cold but pleasant, ruffling the edges of their dress robes as they followed the stone path toward the water.

It was… nice.

Comfortable.

Like they had done this a hundred times before.

And maybe they had, maybe not in fancy dress robes, maybe not with the weight of something unspoken pressing against Fred’s ribs, but it was still them.

Still easy.

They fell into natural conversation, talking about nothing and everything—making fun of McLaggen’s tragic dance moves, placing one final bet on whether or not Olivia Davies had smuggled an entire bottle of firewhiskey under her cloak.

But beneath it all, Fred could feel it.

That… thing.

That stupid, frustrating thing that had settled in his chest hours ago and refused to leave.

Because every time y/n laughed, something in him twisted.

Because every time she nudged him, teasing and light, it sent something warm rushing through him.

Because every time she looked at him, really looked at him, he felt like she was about to figure him out.

And that, that scared him more than anything else.

He had spent so long not noticing. Had spent years thinking of her as just y/n—his best friend, his competition, the one person who could match him beat for beat.

But now?

Now, all he could think about was the way she looked under the stars, how the silver light caught in her hair, how her lips curled when she was about to say something smug.

Now, he was noticing everything.

And he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Y/n nudged him again. "You’re quiet."

Fred blinked, forcing himself to smirk. "Unusual, isn’t it?"

"Extremely." She shot him a suspicious glance. "You sure you’re not getting emotional over all the romance in the air?"

Fred snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Oh yeah, I’m the emotional one. Not the girl who gasped at the ballroom decorations like she walked into a bloody fairytale."

Y/n gasped again, but this time out of offense. "I did not—"

"Did too."

"Fred—"

"You even twirled, y/l/n," he teased, his smirk widening. "Don’t try to deny it, I saw it with my own two eyes."

She groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. "I hate you."

Fred grinned. "No, you don’t."

Y/n turned to shove him, but he caught her wrist before she could, laughing as he held it up between them.

And suddenly

The laughter faded.

Not completely, not abruptly, but just enough.

Because suddenly Fred was staring at her, and she was staring back, and something about the night felt too still.

Her wrist was small in his grip, her pulse just barely thrumming beneath his fingertips.

For a second, just a second, he almost didn’t let go.

But then

He did.

And whatever had settled between them slipped away before it could take root.

Fred cleared his throat, shoving his hands back into his pockets. "Anyway. Should probably head back before George accuses me of running off and eloping."

Y/n snorted. "I dunno, Weasley. I think we’d make a pretty tragic love story."

Fred smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Tragic."

And as they made their way back up toward the castle, Fred ignored the fact that something about that word didn’t sit right with him at all.

They were just steps away from the castle doors when Fred couldn’t hold it in any longer.

It had been building all night, all week, really, if he was honest. Maybe even longer than that.

Every glance, every laugh, every stupid little moment that had felt so normal before had suddenly taken on a different meaning.

And now, standing beneath the stars, the castle glowing softly in the distance, it hit him all at once.

He loved her.

Maybe he always had.

Maybe he had just been too thick to realize it until now.

But now, now it was all he could think about.

Y/n was walking just ahead of him, her dress shifting with the breeze, hair slightly undone from the night, still looking as effortlessly beautiful as she had when she first stepped down the dormitory stairs.

And Fred, heart pounding in his chest, suddenly realized he couldn’t go inside without saying it.

Without doing something about it.

"Y/n."

His voice was quieter than usual, but she stopped immediately, turning to face him with a curious tilt of her head.

She hadn’t expected him to stop. Hadn’t expected his voice to sound so… careful.

Fred took a breath. Now or never.

"I—" He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to find the words when really, there was only one way to say it.

"I like you."

Silence.

Fred barely noticed the cold anymore, heat rushing through his chest as he watched her eyes widen, her lips parting slightly in surprise.

Maybe he should’ve eased into it. Maybe he should’ve said it differently. But hell, there was no stopping now.

He took a step closer.

"I like you, y/n," he repeated, voice steadier this time. "And I—I don’t mean in the way we joke about, or the way everyone always thinks we do. I mean, really. And I think I have for a while, I just…" He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "I was too much of an idiot to see it."

Her lips parted like she was going to say something, but nothing came out.

She just… stared at him.

Fred’s heart dropped.

Oh, hell.

Maybe he’d messed this up. Maybe he’d just ruined everything

But then

Y/n moved forward so fast he barely had time to react.

Her hands curled into the front of his dress robes, pulling him down as she kissed him.

Fred’s mind blanked.

For a second, he didn’t breathe.

Didn’t think.

Didn’t do anything except feel.

Because Merlin’s bloody beard, he hadn’t expected that.

But then, instinct took over, and his hands were at her waist, tugging her closer, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it.

It was slow, softer than he ever thought a first kiss between them would be. No teasing, no sarcasm, just… her.

Just them.

The night was silent around them, the only sound between them the faint hitch of breath, the quiet shift of fabric, the snowflakes drifting through the air like the universe had planned this all along.

When they finally pulled away, Fred’s forehead rested against hers, his grin so wide it was almost ridiculous.

"So, uh…" He exhaled, still catching his breath, his hands still resting firmly on her waist. "Can I take that as a yes?"

Y/n laughed, arms still wrapped around his neck, eyes shining with something he had never seen before but desperately wanted to see again.

"Fred Weasley," she murmured, shaking her head fondly. "You are such a bloody idiot."

Fred smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Yeah, but I’m your idiot now, yeah?"

Y/n grinned, tugging him down into another kiss.

And Fred?

Fred was completely okay with that.

A/n: so I wasn't planning on writing a part 2 for this but so many people asked so I hope you enjoy this!!!

#fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

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vettelsvee · 1 day ago

Text

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

come what may masterlist | formula 1 masterlist

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

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

WORD COUNT: 7337

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

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

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

Linz, Austria January 15th, 2010

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

"I'll open the door, Dad!"

Louisa's voice snapped you back to reality.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Seb isn’t with Hanna anymore?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Amelie!” you hissed under your breath.

“Fine, fine. I promise…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I missed you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least, for now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dad…”

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

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

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

To their surprise, no one objected.

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

“Something wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know, but you love me anyway."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How are things with Mark?"

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

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

Don’t lie to him, Y/N.

"And does that make you happy?"

"Yes, of course."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And that makes it even harder..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His friend. His best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t start with that too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only you knew...

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

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

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

“Hello, Mark…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mark, it’s not what you think…”

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

“Mark, please, let me explain…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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