#sebastian's mix tapes

[ask-sebastian]

Sebastian's Mix Tapes - Light That Fire

Today, I received a request from the lovely @kayligraphy for a playlist inspired by Meredith O'Conner's You Are Not Alone.

She is a new artist to me, but some the themes that came to mind when I listened to her music were ones I think we could use a bit more of these days.

Self acceptance and personal grace

Self empowerment and inner strength in the face of adversity

Finding our communities and our places in them

Embracing those around us through all the highs and lows of life

To whoever needs to hear it,

Find your spark, light that fire, and we will never let it die.

Track list below the cut

Biggest Mistake - bexx

Just the Thing - Meredith O'Connor

Cool with Being Crazy - Willow City

I Am - Meredith O'Connor

Celebrate the Reckless - MAGIC GIANT

Right Now - Nyman, Edgar Sandoval Jr

I Found You - Cash Cash, Andy Grammer

It Only Gets Better - Wild

Light a Match - HANNIE

How Far We Can Go - Upstate

Stronger Than You Know - The East Pointers

Stronger (Robert Eibach Remix) - Meredith O'Connor, Garrett Clayton, Robert Eibach

Found/Tonight - Ben Platt, Lin-Manuel Miranda

You Are Note Alone (International) - Meredith O'Connor (and many others)

Run Tonight - Kat Meoz

Celestial - Ed Sheeran

We Could Be Stars - Adnreas Kübler

Flyin' (Don't Give Up) - Flyers

[pretzel-box]

Hi! Hello! How are you doing? I hope you're having a great day. This is the first time I requested something so pls bare with me. So I really like the swap!Sebastian and swap!/payment received reader, so can I request a second part where Sebastian bought readers file and maybe some fluff and comfort, that'd be soooo cute and what comes next is up to you.

Anyways thanks for taking your time in reading this and it's also okay if you ignore this😊😊😊

Tags: Comfort, Fluff, Reverse AU, gn! experiment reader & human sebastian, sequel to previous chapter

Words: 1,1k

Authors Note: Since the story progresses differently, I tried to at least write the fluff and comfort part after Seb saw the tapes!

Sebastian’s breath hitched as he tried to steady himself, his heart racing and his mind a chaotic mess of thoughts. He hadn’t expected to break down like this, not here, not in front of you. He had always prided himself on being composed, on having a plan. But those tapes… the sight of what you had gone through—the screams, the agony, the helplessness—it had torn through him like a knife. He didn’t know how to cope with the knowledge of your suffering, and now, here you were, laughing so freely, so blissfully unaware of the turmoil in his heart.

“Ah, there you are!” Your cheerful voice had greeted him when he walked into the shop, his eyes still red and puffy from the tears he had tried to hold back. Your smile was so genuine, so full of light, and it only made the ache in his chest worse. He wanted to protect that light, to shield you from any more pain, but he didn’t know how.

“Look!” You said, holding up the recorder with a playful grin. “I recorded a wall dweller getting hit by Pandemonium. It got squished like a fly.” You played the clip for him like it was some kind of small victory, a moment of dark humor to lighten the mood. But Sebastian couldn’t focus on the video. He could only see you—the real you—behind the cheerful facade.

He felt a lump form in his throat, his eyes welling up with tears again. You noticed the shift in his expression, the way his face crumpled with a pain you couldn’t quite understand. “God, Sebastian,” you teased gently, though your voice was tinged with concern. “Don’t tell me you’re getting emotional over a wall dweller.”

Sebastian didn’t respond. He just stood there, tears streaming down his cheeks in silent waves. The shame of his breakdown mixed with the overwhelming sadness he felt for you, for everything you’d endured, for every piece of you that had been broken and put back together. He hated that he couldn’t control this, that he couldn’t stop crying in front of you. He felt so raw, so exposed.

You blinked, your teasing smile fading as you realized this wasn’t just some passing moment of sentiment. You stepped closer, your expression softening as you took in the sight of him—Sebastian, your normally composed and snarky companion, now reduced to tears.

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace. His body stiffened at first, but then he melted into your touch, his head resting against your shoulder as he let out a shaky breath. You held him close, your hand stroking the back of his head, fingers tangling gently in his hair. The other hand moved up and down his back, soothing him with gentle, rhythmic movements.

“It’s okay, Solace,” you whispered softly, your voice a calming melody against the storm raging in his mind. “The wall dweller is at a better place.”

Sebastian let out a choked laugh, a mix of a sob and a chuckle, shaking his head against your shoulder. “It’s… it’s not about the damn wall dweller,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s… it’s you.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, pulling back slightly to look at him. “Me?” you asked, searching his tear-filled eyes for answers. “What about me?”

He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady himself enough to speak. “I saw the tapes,” he admitted quietly, his voice breaking on the last word. “I saw… what they did to you. What you went through.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, your grip on him tightening instinctively. “Sebastian…” you whispered, your voice softening with understanding. “You… you saw those?”

He nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks again. “I’m so sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry for everything they did to you. I just… I don’t know how you’re still standing here, smiling like that.”

You felt a pang in your chest, a mix of sorrow and affection for the man in front of you. You knew the tapes were horrifying—brutal, even—but you had long since come to terms with your past. It was a part of you, yes, but it didn’t define you. Not anymore.

You cupped his face gently, wiping away his tears with your thumbs. “Hey,” you said softly, your voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “I’m okay, Sebastian. I’m still here. I’m still… me.”

He looked at you with such a mix of awe and disbelief, his heart aching with every beat. “But how?” he whispered. “How can you just… move on from something like that?”

You gave him a small, knowing smile. “Because I have to,” you replied simply. “Because if I let it define me, if I let it break me, then they win. And I refuse to let them have that power over me.”

Sebastian stared at you, his heart swelling with a mixture of admiration and love. He had always been drawn to you, always found himself captivated by your spirit, your strength. But now, more than ever, he realized just how much you meant to him—how much he needed you in his life.

He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he let out a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, his voice muffled against your skin. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from that.”

You smiled softly, your hand continuing to stroke his hair. “You’re protecting me now,” you whispered. “That’s what matters.”

You felt him nod against your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you tighter as if afraid to let go. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what had happened in the past, no matter what horrors you’d both faced, you would face them together. And together, you would heal.

As the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, a small, playful smile tugged at your lips. “Besides,” you added, your tone teasing, “I bet that wall dweller’s in wall heaven now, with all his little wall dweller friends. Don’t you think?”

Sebastian let out a watery laugh, pulling back to look at you with a mix of exasperation and affection. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, a small smile breaking through his tears.

“And yet,” you said, grinning up at him, “you’re still here.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, his heart feeling a little lighter, a little more whole. “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “I am.”

And as you stood there together, holding each other close, you knew that even after Sebastian saw the tapes, he would be alright. Just like you are.

[agendabymooner]

the problem with following orders ! mark w. x ofc (vettel!ofc)

summary: in 2013, the famous multi 21 situation occurred at the malaysian grand prix. at the beginning of 2014, sebastian vettel’s sister - who was a popular figure in uk - was seen going on a date with his former rival. OR lydia ‘liddy’ vettel was finally married to mark webber after his many attempts of proposals and her three pregnancies to their beautiful children.

content warning: “sistergate”, use of explicit language, age gap (no specific age), brother!sebastian vettel, multi 21 references (this is literally the plot and the joke), little mix references (ofc is a member), dilf!mark webber, briefly mentioned zayn malik

note: whoever put mark webber in my head needs to go to jail. enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

tagged aussiegrit

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo

comments have been limited

jadethirlwall MRS. WEBBEEEEER !!! 😩 liked by lydiavet

leighannepinnock i should’ve stolen you and the kids from him when i had the chance 😭 liked by lydiavet

lydiavet i wouldn’t have opposed to that 😶

jensonbutton i’m surprised sebastian didn’t object �� liked by lydiavet

lydiavet it was a good idea you’ve taped him on the chair, jens 🥰

oscarpiastri finally 🙏 liked by lydiavet

landonorris MISSUS WEBBAH 😫 liked by lydiavet

sebastianvettel so happy for you sister 🙌 liked by lydiavet

jensonbutton no you’re not 😂 when you first found out they were dating the first thing you said was “i wish he was dead”

lydiavet and the first thing you told me was “you need to get your head checked” 😂

aussiegrit and you said “i'm gonna kill you, webber”

aussiegrit luckiest man in the world ❤️ liked by lydiavet

lydiavet i love you so much 🫠❤️

the webber girls

margot alana

maude amelia

lucy georgina

[vettelsdarling]

Okay so if it's okay I have a seb (rbr seb to be precise) request. We all know rbr seb was a menace, chaos lover and flirty (we all love him for that) so enemies to lovers (at least one sided because I have no doubt this man while loving by all grid also hated by some) with seb would be amazing... Imagine all the tension 🫣🫣 but happy ending of course because nowadays I need my healthy dosage of fluff with a bit of angst sprinkle 💗🙏🏻

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

Lissie note… I am SO happy someone finally requested Seb<3 An enemies to lovers too!!! This prompt is pure gold! Really love the one-sided touch too. Thank you!!!

Things to note

This is set to start in late 2010 and progress from there on (only until Seb’s last year at rbr)

Accuracy to real driver standings will be off due to the reader insert

Michael did not get in any accident here<3

Reader is 22 and Sebastian is 23

Reader is with Mercedes, driving alongside Michael (put him instead of Rosberg because Michael knows Seb better. You’ll get it when you read)

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Mercedes!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, a little bit of cursing

Word Count: 6.4k+

Playlist Recommendations: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭💔, 𝐒𝐕𝟓

Taglist: @drugged-kitkat , @darleneslane

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

A master of your art. That’s what you liked to think of yourself as. You weren’t driven by fame or money. Rather the excitement of the rush. The feeling of hitting each apex just right— you relished in it. If there was one thing you really were driven by, however; it was winning a championship. You’d won a few races in your career and had your national anthem played for everyone to hear, but no more of that. Your sole goal was to receive the title above all other titles.

Your dreams of such were cut short by one Red Bull driver. Sebastian Vettel. You sat there at the prize-giving ceremony, waiting for Formula One racers to be called up. Michael sat next to you with Corinna. She gave you a sympathetic smile, knowing you missed out on the championship and landed 2nd overall.

Michael claimed Sebastian meant no ill will. He was just young and spirited. You begged to differ. The smirk he’d give you after winning a race begged to differ. His whole… shtick… begged to differ.

Alonso was called on stage to receive his award for landing 3rd, which meant that you had to be ready to receive yours too. You brushed down the sides of your dress, asking Corrina if you looked okay. She seemed surprised you’d even ask such a question but reassured you with a smile and a nod.

When your name was called, a thump in your heart reached the base of your throat. Podium celebrations were one thing, but the prize-giving was an entirely different thing altogether.

Although it was supposed to be a celebration, all you saw was a sea of pitiful glances. Most people knew of your unfortunate position, though many were too afraid to comment on it.

“Sebastian Vettel” Oh the great Sebastian Vettel! World’s youngest champion yet! That could’ve been you. Easily. You hated the thought of not being there on the highest step. The young German gave you a wink before he received his massive trophy. You were in front of hundreds of people and the ceremony was being taped, so you did nothing but smile and seem grateful.

Sure, you were actually grateful for receiving anything at all, but it all seemed like pity. All that was left was to throw your own pity party with a pint of Pinot and a sad romance movie.

The interviews were a nightmare. Every single one of them kept trying to sell you their act. All the while the questions surrounded your relationship with Sebastian. One of undoubted hate for one another. At least on your side.

You didn’t even bother going back to the hotel. The after-party was the one thing you actually looked forward to. The booze, mainly. Anything to drown out your sorrows, really. Oh, how you despised all the small gestures people did for you as an act of congratulating you. Your mixed feelings nearly slapped the vodka shot out of a waitress’ hand. You were a menace in this state.

“Easy on those shots, you came here alone. Wouldn’t want to go home too wasted.” A voice came up behind you.

“Well, that’s a little too late, Hamilton.” His look was that of genuine concern. He knew what you were doing. He knew exactly what that vodka was for.

“You’ll get him next time. At least you’re on the podium, right?” Great. Even one of your closest friends started to pity you.

“Fuck off, would you?” Luckily, he was very understanding and didn’t take any of your words to heart. He got out of your way and went to socialize. That’s when the coin fell. You were alone. He was right. You had no means of getting home. Taxis were rare in that part of town, and your hotel was far away. You were really in a pile of shit.

“Whatever,” you mumbled to yourself and one-shotted a sipping whiskey. It burned your throat with vigour and surged through your body like a pest.

Completely wasted, you felt extremely hot. It didn’t cross your mind to take a breather outside. No, instead, you slowly pulled the sleeve of your dress down. With your shoulder exposed, you could only chase that relief of cool air.

That attempt? Cut short. By none other than Sebastian Vettel. Perhaps a championship in interference would serve him well. He stopped you and pulled your sleeve back up. It felt like an insult. Another jab that he wanted to throw your way.

“Fuck off and let me do my thing,” you kept aimlessly pulling at your sleeve. The feat was just as great as your races against him.

“Stop it. You’re drunk.”

“Wow, I hadn’t noticed. You want another trophy for that discovery?” The friction against the soft satin of your dress eventually made it tear. Both of you froze before you got up and b-lined towards the exit. Anything to get away from him. You pushed through the masses of people in the club and eventually got outside.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rip your dress.” Much to your misfortune, the constant bother had followed you outside.

“You’ve already ruined more than just my dress. Must you ruin the rest of my night too?” You looked him deep in the eyes. You didn’t even have to act like you’d given up— because you most definitely had. No question.

“I’m about to make your night bearable if you’ll let me.” He took off his blazer and wrapped it around you, so you wouldn’t catch a cold in your skimpy dress. You hated the sentiment. You hated his whole “holier than thou” personality. Why? Because it was for show. He was nothing but a monster. He was behind many of your crashes and never gave you any space. You resented him for his quirky little stunts.

“Whatever, youngest world champion.” You couldn’t help but scoff at the title. He had played foul to win it. That title should’ve been yours, but no. Sebastian Vettel stole your glory.

“Come on, don’t be like that. At least value your own well-being. Let’s just get you a coffee to sober up with. You can curse me out as much as you want in the morning.” He tried to guide you forward, but you hunched over and up came all of your vodka shots. He held your hair back as you emptied out the contents of your stomach. It was revolting. You felt disgusting.

“I sure hope I won’t see you in the morning— let alone tomorrow.” Not exactly the toughest thing to say when you’re coughing for your life.

“You won’t even remember this, you know?”

“Makes it better. Then I don’t have to remember how I actually spent more than 10 minutes alone with you.” You were still hunched over, but the snarkiness in your voice triumphed that.

“You really dislike me, don’t you?” He chuckled.

“Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.”

The Red Bull champion ended up being right. You had completely forgotten about the exchange. Someone had hailed you a taxi and you’d drunkenly gotten yourself to your hotel room. That’s how you remembered it. You were still bitter about the ceremony and Sebastian’s selfish attitude. Sure, you’d expect nothing less from a racer, especially in Formula One, but he was a different kind of heartless. He mocked you. He didn’t care if he hurt you on track. That was your own fault.

Sebastian Vettel was your sworn enemy.

The media had become desensitized to your drama with him, as something always happened at every race. It was impossible to not argue with the guy. All he cared about was winning and he wasn’t in the sport to make friends. It was almost as if he wanted to be hated. You simply couldn’t understand how he and Lewis managed to get along. They somehow managed to separate their work from their friendship. You had that relationship with most of the grid, but Sebastian was too unsportsmanlike for your taste. Michael always tried to reason with you, often softening the blow of some of Vettel’s words, saying he “didn’t mean it” or was “just worked up”. You looked up to Michael, but you could never back that. It was bull. Sebastian had no redeeming qualities. He was overly flirtatious and aggressive. You hated that.

Every interview he had with a woman was met with his flirty remarks and his devious smile. You always had to sit there and soak in his gloating. He was insufferable.

“I really don’t see what the problem is. He’s just really obsessed with his career, no?” You had invited your friend out for brunch before your plane. The first race of the season was in Australia. Mark Webber’s home race. A challenge for Sebastian. Mark was tired of his teammate. Much like yourself. You could smell a possible truce. Although that’d be foul play. Unsportsmanlike of you. Were you going to be the bigger person? Of course. You were mature.

“He makes me want to crash my car into his. I should definitely do that in Australia.” You were not mature.

“You don’t mean that. Besides, it’s not even that deep. You don’t have to make something big out of the rush he gets from being in the moment. Don’t you also cuss at your engineer from time to time?” She had a valid point, but it went into one ear and straight out the other. You loved her to death, but she was spewing nonsense.

“Sebastian is an asshole. That’s the bottom line. Whose side are you on anyway?!” You scolded. She twirled her fork in the pasta and let out a faint chuckle.

“Of course, I’m on your side… but you can’t lie. Sebastian is cute.” It was official. Your friend was possessed.

“In what world? I told you about his dirty tricks. How is he still cute?” He was the devil in disguise. Some drivers were able to see it, but most were gullible enough to even befriend him. Your hatred didn’t come from a place of jealousy. It came from a place of being cast aside because of him. Time and time again. It was tiring, and you couldn’t do anything about it. The Mercedes car wasn’t nearly as fast as Red Bull. You desperately wanted it to be.

“Whatever. What I’m saying is, maybe he’s not all that bad off-track.” Oh, but he was. His flirtatious behaviour off-track was nearly as bad as his insufferable one on track. You couldn’t stand it.

“He is. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Your friend drove you to the jet and the two of you exchanged a few hugs and whatnot. She wished you good luck before you got on.

Inside, you saw many familiar faces. Michael being one of them. He pointed to the seat across from his own and signalled for you to sit. When you did, he leaned forward and you could already tell he was going to talk about your least favourite driver again. For whatever reason, he was set on trying to change your mind. “Seb is not a bad person”, “He’s just young and hot-headed”, and “He doesn’t know any better”… all of those excuses meant nothing to you. Sebastian was just that; a dirty driver.

“So, let’s find a way to beat him this year, yes?” You were taken aback. He never said something like that. Sure, he’d console you and help you through your sorrows of finishing behind Vettel, but he was always neutral. Never on either “side”. Though he did tend to seem like he was on Sebastian’s.

“We’re in a Mercedes. I don’t see any way for us. It’s just straight down on the charts. I mean, will I even be able to land a podium this year? I heard McLaren have been pulling their weight for this year. Like… a lot.” Michael contemplated what to say for a moment, but tried to console you nonetheless. He was a father, so he’d gotten quite good at that.

“We can still put up a good fight, right?”

“I suppose.” You could only hope for a miracle. Christian Horner was unrelenting with his new golden boy, Sebastian. The Red Bulls were unstoppable. You had no other choice but to follow Michael’s spirit. Just put up a good fight.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

It was practice day. You were getting ready, suiting up, and seating yourself in the car. Your heart was beating fast. It had been a while since you last sat in a real car. You’d done your fair share of sim racing whilst on break, but it was nothing compared to the real deal.

“Good luck,” your engineer clapped your helmet before you were released. The car felt surprisingly great. It was smooth and you felt like it synced well with your driving style.

Then came Sebastian. Again. He sped past you. Although you couldn’t see him, you just knew he was smirking behind that helmet of his. He relished in your mental torment. It was his source of amusement.

You finished P3. Lewis finished P2 and Sebastian, yet again, finished P1. It was only the first round of practice though. You promised yourself that you’d do everything in your power to finish P1 in the qualifying session.

You didn’t keep your promise. You fell short and landed a finishing spot at P2. Devastating, but your team was happy you got a front-row start anyway. Whenever the interviews finished, you tried to find Michael. Only to see him chatting with him. They were having a laugh— joking around. The sight made you furious. Again, not in jealousy, but the sheer thought that Michael fell for Sebastian’s shtick.

“Hey, Michael. Could we talk? There’s something about the car.” The interjection was abrupt and one might even call it rude, but did you care? Absolutely not. You had no reason to whatsoever. It was Vettel after all.

“Actually, I was just saying goodbye to Sebastian. Corinna is waiting for me outside. How about you tell me tomorrow? Maybe talk to the engineers too. Anyways, see you guys!” Just great. You sighed as you watched your teammate leave.

“That’s some rejection,” said the German standing next to you. Ugh. Wrong German.

“What do you want?”

“Let’s grab coffee sometime soon.” What? You were used to his flirty remarks being directed at the interviewers and whatnot… but this?

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Unbelievable. He was unbelievable. You scoffed and put your hand in front of his face before walking off. Giving him the satisfaction of an answer wasn’t exactly your style, and it wouldn’t ever be.

“You didn’t say no!” He yelled from behind you. Ignoring him, you made a turn so that you’d disappear from his sight. His presence was exhausting and downright draining.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

“Box box,” said your engineer. You were on hards and chasing Sebastian who was on hards as well. It made no sense to pit after a mere 23 laps.

“Are you sure? I’ve got a good chance here. I don’t think it’s time. We didn’t discuss this.” The original plan was to pit when Sebastian would, and it seemed like he was going to do a one-stop.

“We’re sure. You need to get on mediums. We just switched Michael too. Get in.” You sighed and got ready to slow down in the pit lane. It was painful to see Sebastian take the win like that. P1 felt like a distant dream for you at that point.

“This better work. I swear, this better fucking work.” You were beyond frustrated about your current position in P8. The pit stop had taken longer than expected, making you lag a few places behind. Oh, how you couldn’t stand the idea of Sebastian rubbing his victory in your face. His first victory of the season.

You upped your game, completing smooth overtake after smooth overtake. All the way up until you regained your position right behind the Red Bull. There was a slight problem though. The car was starting to feel unusually hot. Sweat trickled down your face and the visor looked as if it was raining. You weren’t going to report rain though, as you knew your team would if there was any.

“Fuck, guys, it’s too hot!” You yelled over the radio. As expected, all your engineer replied with was a simple “copy”. It was swift communication, you knew that, but it sure as hell was frustrating. It felt like you weren’t getting any attention at all.

Your team performed pit stops rather quickly, which was a plus whereas everything else was a minus. It didn’t cancel out, but at least it helped combat some of the other problems your car had.

As most had predicted though, you were unable to overtake Sebastian or his new nickname “the finger”, and were stuck in P2. You couldn’t even enjoy the podium celebration. Sure, you sprayed some champagne and chugged a bit, but did you enjoy it? Not particularly. Michael had told you to not worry and just give it your all, but it was hard to forget when Vettel was in the way. His smug grin as he held his trophy and stuck his pointer in the air… you wanted to crush his ego. So bad. You were going to relish in the moment when Sebastian would lose out on a championship. It was going to be an unforgettable moment to be sure.

“You can’t be satisfied, can you?” Sebastian came up to you after the celebration. He was the last person you wanted to see at that moment, but his gloating was inevitable. Might as well get it over with.

“Not by you, I can’t.”

“You must know how that sounds.” Yeah, you were going to lose your mind. He successfully pulled off a tasteless and baseless trap. You walked straight into it like an insect stuck in a spiderweb.

“Whatever.” You took off your race suit, leaving on the fireproof suit to cover your body for the time being. It was already hot enough as is.

“Cute.” You’d gotten used to his little flirty remarks and comments. It was basically white noise.

“You’re not.”

“I was referring to you, you know.” He was quite literally impossible.

“Must you really make me suffer with your presence any longer? Isn’t winning and doing your little finger thing enough?!” When you started raising your voice, it grabbed people’s attention, so the young Red Bull driver pulled you with him to his motorhome.

“Did I not just enlighten you about my discomfort in your presence or did I daydream that?” You scoffed at him and pulled your arm from his grip.

“Look, I’m done trying to ignore your contempt for me. Do you seriously think that I will apologize for winning? This isn’t grade school. I was driving, I was faster, I won. Simple as that. If you can’t accept it and take the loss, then you really shouldn’t be racing.” Your heart sank to the bottom of your chest. Each sentence was like a dagger to the chest. You felt every little soul-crushing word in your gut.

“Wow… you really are more of an asshole than I thought. I don’t care that you won. I care that you gloat. I care that you don’t care about me. You don’t care about any of the others. We could die for all you care. Do you want me to die? Is that it?” All rationality had left your mind the moment he insulted you. Red was all you could see.

“You’re twisting my words. I merely said that I won’t apologize for winning. I never said I wanted anyone injured.” He was right, and you knew that. Deep down, you knew that he was just like you. Passionate about the sport. The only difference was that he was in a winning car… and you unfortunately weren’t. Was it his fault? You were too blindsided by rage to even consider any other possibilities.

“By the way you drive, I beg to differ.”

“You’d be lying to me and yourself if you were to tell me you’ve never gotten caught up in the moment. You know exactly how that feels.” He somehow had a counter for everything you threw at him.

“What about your constant flirting? Why do you keep rubbing your victory in my face like that?” The look on his face contorted into that of a confused one.

“What do you mean?” He asked, obviously at a complete loss.

“You asked me out for coffee.” You said whilst confidently crossing your arms over your chest.

“You seriously think that’s a front for something?” He almost found it amusing. The way you overanalyzed his motives.

“You don’t think a guy can be the least bit interested in you?” Before you had the chance to respond, Mark walked in with Christian behind him. That was your cue to leave, so you did without hesitation.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

It had been a good while since you last had a real talk with Sebastian. A few years to be exact. The jabs and games were still happening. Neither of you had dared address any of it, but one thing remained stuck in your head like a broken record; “You don’t think a guy can be the least bit interested in you?” Every day and night, that thought passed through the thousands of others. It stood out. It was like the moon in a starry sky.

During those years, Michael had retired. It broke your heart, but seeing as Lewis replaced him; it wasn’t all that bad. Mercedes had gotten increasingly better as well— which meant that you had a better chance at beating Sebastian for every year that passed.

Lewis, being one of your closest friends on the grid, agreed to help you win your first championship. The Red Bulls had their run. It was time for Mercedes to shine. You needed to win.

“Lewis, I don’t think I can do it this race. There are too many low-speed corners. Red Bull will take this one home… Sebastian will take this one home.” You sat in your garage and moped as Lewis leaned against a pillar opposite you.

“It’s fine. They’re basically useless in high-speed corners this year. Besides, you already have 3 wins over him. Just one race won’t hurt. Well… it’ll sting, but see if you can land a podium, yeah?” Did you even want to try? You knew that Sebastian would mock you either way. It was almost as if your world didn’t revolve around the championship anymore. It was all about him. All about Sebastian.

“Yeah nah. I don’t think I can.” You stared at your feet. The race shoes were starting to feel clammy around them.

“Do you really believe that’s the mindset of a winner? No. Just think about doing whatever you can do. You don’t have to care about anyone else when you’re out there. Let yourself loose.” Lewis was right. You did care too much. You seldom crashed into anyone, all because you cared for their safety.

You ended up winning. You didn’t know how it happened or what you did to make it happen. Lewis’ words just kept swirling inside your brain; “Let yourself loose.”

You stood patiently and waited for the interviewer to finish up with P3 and P2, watching as Sebastian looked ever so disappointed. It was humorous. You felt amazing. The other wins you lorded over him didn’t feel that liberating. They felt good, but not great.

“—And here’s the deadly Mercedes! You were on fire today! We did not expect this aggressive approach from you. It was breathtaking. What did you do differently?” That was the question. What did you do differently? You stopped caring. You remembered you weren’t in the sport to make friends. You were there to win.

“I mean, I did what I had to do, really. I focused on winning and I listened to great advice. I simply just won.” The interviewer looked at you with a question mark etched onto her forehead but didn’t press further on that question.

“I know your first loss to Sebastian proved quite upsetting, would you say the tables have turned?” She smiled at you. It was clear from the beginning that she was on your side. After all, being the only female racer on the grid— you had a magnetic effect on fans of the sport.

“I can’t say for sure yet, but I can definitely hope!” Your voice was cheery and sweet, but that was just a front. You couldn’t wait for his downfall. Standing on that stage at the ceremony, watching all life drain from Sebastian’s eyes. That was your goal.

People had every right to tell you off, but at what cost if you didn’t care? Lewis had just helped you unlock the very thing that could potentially destroy the smug Red Bull driver.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

The season was going smoothly. Fans roared in your favour and even threw gifts at you whenever you went on the scene. Yours and Sebastian’s roles had switched. You were the new fan favourite. Everyone could attest to that fact.

There was a slight thing bugging you, however. The many Instagram and Facebook fan pages that were dedicated to shipping you with Sebastian. They made edits, they came up with extreme theories… It was mortifying.

People in the Mercedes garage weren’t quiet either. If anything, they were even worse. Constantly bugging you about your “obvious” chemistry with Sebastian and whatnot. Which, in your opinion, didn’t exist.

You only harboured hate for the man. He was foul. Through and through… right?

Lies. Although you didn’t dare tell anyone, you didn’t quite hate him anymore. After letting go and caring less, you felt like you could finally see things from his perspective. It made you realize that he just wanted to win. Well, on top of mocking you. That was what had your mind in knots. He claimed he only teased you because of your reactions, but he refused to acknowledge your obvious distaste for it.

He had, however, begun to limit his snarky comments and cruel smirks. He actually started distancing himself. He rarely spoke to you and only ever interacted with you when the two of you landed a podium together.

You felt like something was missing.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Lewis asked. The two of you were sitting in your respective chairs in the cooldown room. He had somehow scored a P2 finish, with you upfront and Vettel in P3.

“Oh, nothing. Sorry. Zoned out, I guess?” You stretched your arms and wiped a bead of sweat off your forehead. Sebastian watched you throw the towel onto Lewis’ lap. Your teammate threw it back and the two of you shared a silly moment.

Something brewed inside the young Red Bull racer. He had been slacking off. He knew that all too well. His teammate, Daniel Ricciardo, was going to outscore him. There was nothing he could do about it. Not when Mercedes had gotten the upper hand. Not when you were in the way. The only pain he felt was from watching you with Lewis. He despised seeing you all happy-go-lucky. That was it. No, it wasn’t. He hated seeing you joke around with the other drivers. The sight of you laughing at a mechanic’s joke? His blood boiled.

The courage he once had was slipping. Much like his performance. He couldn’t focus on winning when losing was his only way to reach his ultimate goal.

“We should probably get going. Time to listen to your national anthem… yet again,” Lewis jokingly sighed and ruffled your hair, whilst you rolled your eyes with a chuckle.

You saw a cheerful sea of Mercedes employees. A 1-2 finish. Any team would be ecstatic if their drivers pulled that off.

Sebastian stood next to you. He couldn’t bring himself to muster even the smallest smile. Putting it mildly, his plan was starting to look like it had gone to shit. Not only was he losing the races, he was losing…

“Lew, look at this,” you grinned. Lewis obliged and was met with a burst of champagne. He let out a small yelp before picking up his bottle and spraying you.

Although he probably had a reason, you were beginning to hate how Sebastian never even spoke to you. The only solution; spray him. You poured a cold shot down his neck, to which he jerked his shoulders forward in an uncomfortable motion. It made him smile. Your heart swelled with some form of comfort in knowing you could make him feel some sort of joy.

Was that Lewis’ design all along? Making you see things from Vettel’s perspective? Perhaps. Whatever it was, you knew that your hatred for him had faded. This was replaced with stealing small glances and a spike in your heart rate when he was near.

You often felt your heart pump thickly in your throat. Your insides were littered with butterflies. You felt all jittery around him. Well, until he stopped with his flirting. He completely stopped interacting with you. It had your stomach in a twist. Were you too late? Did you not do enough?

“You don’t think a guy can be the least bit interested in you?”

You knew exactly who you had to see.

It was perfect, given that the next race wasn’t that coming weekend. You decided to give Michael a call, asking if you could see him at his house in Switzerland. Him being something of a father figure— said yes.

It was time to dig into the past. Not through the eyes of who you once were, but who you became. You were able to see things from every angle. Sebastian had clearly flirted out of sheer fun and mischief, but something underlined that cause. You. It was foolish of you to be so blinded with rage and hatred, that you couldn’t see him for what he was. A man who was struggling to keep your undivided attention. You weren’t yet convinced, but surely Michael would be able to set you straight.

You first greeted Corinna and the kids, who were not so much kids anymore. Michael came down to give you a hug and invite you to his cosy home office. He brewed some tea and placed it on the table.

“It’s so nice to see you again. I haven’t quite gotten used to retirement, but I did it once before, so I can definitely do it again!” He chuckled.

“I’m glad you’re still holding up well. I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to know that Mercedes is leading at the moment.” You smiled at him and took a sip of the tea he’d made for you.

“I have been following up. I watch almost every race, actually. Whenever my kids have time, we throw on the sports channel and watch you and Sebastian. That’s to say they always have time for that. In fact, my son, Mick— his dream is to race for Mercedes.” Mick was growing steadily and did karting regularly. You didn’t see why he wouldn’t be able to earn a seat at Mercedes eventually.

“About that… I came here for advice… regarding Sebastian.” As embarrassing as it was to beat around the bush, saying things like that outright was not exactly your forté.

“What, did he finally confess?” You were dumbstruck by his sudden question.

“Excuse me? What?”

“Well, you see, he was always coming to me and asking me how to get you to talk to him. I always said that he could figure things out for himself. By your reaction, however, I’m guessing that didn’t exactly work?” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index fingers.

“He was crazy about you, I remember. The more riled up you got, the more he’d come to me for advice. It became routine for us to sit and talk, actually.” You had your suspicions, but never did you know that he was actually into you. Those fan pages and edits could’ve only fueled it. Your heart was beating faster and faster. It felt like it was nearly about to burst. Definitely, because you didn’t like him like that. You were just starting to sympathize. Nothing romantic. At all. No. Nothing.

“You know what I think?” Michael added when he saw your tomato-red face.

“I think he’s losing those races on purpose. Just to satisfy your needs. For a long time, he wanted to earn as many world championships as myself, but recently… something else seems to be stuck in his mind. I think his priorities lie elsewhere now.” You ran your fingers through your hair in frustration. Your heart couldn’t stop going faster than your car on race day.

“I also think you may feel something for him too.”

“Thank you, Michael. Truly… but I have to go.” You booked the earliest flight out. Needing some time alone with your thoughts.

Michael was almost always right. In this situation? There was no way he wasn’t.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

You were back on the top again. The podium was the exact same as the last race. The celebration was grand. It was all pretty much the same. Your focus was more on getting time alone with Sebastian.

After everything had died down, you decided to visit the Red Bull motorhome and knocked on Vettel’s door.

“What are you doing here?” He asked with a surprised look on his face, upon opening the door.

“We need to talk. Invite me in?” He let you walk past him.

“What is it? Are you here to blackmail me?”

“What? No. Why would I ever do that?” Your face grimaced at his idea.

“I don’t know, I’m just not feeling that great right now.” He was all mopey and looked as if someone had sucked all the life force out of him.

“I actually came to talk to you about… um… well, us.” You were fiddling with your fingers in your lap, too scared to look him in the eyes.

“Us?”

“I spoke to Michael.” You weren’t sure how to lead the conversation from start to finish.

“You did?”

“He told me about everything.” Your eyes met his in a flash of awkwardness.

“Look, that was a long time ago and—”

“I don’t hate you anymore,” you cut off. His eyes lit up at your words.

“What do you mean by that?” Was he really that desperate to hear you say it, or were you too scared to say it?

“I don’t know… I guess it means you can start flirting with me again or whatever…” you mumbled sheepishly. It felt so embarrassing to tell him face to face. Your heart was thumping louder than the pit stops Mercedes did. Your face was redder than the Ferraris.

“Could we see where this takes us? I mean, if you’d like.” He seemed to be just as embarrassed about it as you. It was kind of cute, actually.

“Yes… I’d like that.” Although the conversation was surprisingly short, it left a huge impact on Sebastian. He was more or less depressed on the podium but the interviews that followed? He was a firecracker. He acted as if he’d won the lottery, smiling like an idiot and stealing glances from you here and there. It was an odd but welcome, warm feeling that spread throughout your body.

Who would’ve thought? Both Lewis and Michael were able to set you straight. You used to care too much. You used to think about yourself only, when it came to Sebastian. It was impossible to put yourself in his shoes until Lewis taught you otherwise. Your feelings? You would’ve let yourself crush them over time, had it not been for your talk with your mentor.

Much time passed, and you had won races upon races. You were still getting much-needed advice on everything from races to simple daily routines, by Michael. Sometimes you went to Lewis. He was easier to reach and you were always able to have quick conversations with him before the races. Everything had accumulated to the current momentum. The glory that you were about to relish in. The people you were about to make proud.

You sat in your seat with Sebastian on your side. He had only recently asked you to be his. It took some dates and deep, meaningful talks before you got there, but the wait was worth it. Life had never felt better. You were completely enamoured with Sebastian. The feeling was more than mutual. He was helplessly and irrevocably in love with you.

He was called to the stage as 3rd overall. The crowd cheered, but you cheered the loudest. If you had told your past self that you would be cheering him on at the ceremony, you would’ve never believed yourself.

Lewis was called next and you were called last. Sebastian couldn’t stop smiling at you. People were cheering and you were in a state of euphoria.

Your trophy was the biggest, brightest, and most grand in the room. However, it could never compare to the adoration on your boyfriend’s face, as he saw you hoisting it up into the air.

After all the interviews and the longest ride back to your hotel, you crashed onto your shared bed with your lover. The two of you stared at the blank ceiling, feeling a state of absolute tranquillity. The two of you had come so far.

“I’m so proud of you.” Sebastian turned his head to face you.

“Thank you, Seb.” You followed suit.

“Do you think we wasted too much time?” You asked. In all honesty, a tinge of guilt hit you every now and then. If only you had come to terms with yourself and your feelings earlier…

“All that time was worth hearing you tell me that you love me. I don’t think we wasted even a single moment. Everything that has happened so far… you know, it all built up to this.” You smiled at him and pulled him into a loving kiss.

Sebastian Vettel, I love you.

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! (𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙙𝙢𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨: 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧(𝙨) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚(𝙨) 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣.)

[nerdraging4point0]

Blood of Eden // Part Four // Noah Sebastian Urban Fantasy AU Fic

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

CW: 18+ only minors DNI. Urban Fantasy romance, Smut. Angst. Fluff (ish), Story includes D/S themes, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of drug use and distribution, mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, male receiving oral sex, female receiving oral sex, cuckolding, P/A sex, P/V sex.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Active taglist: @ladyveronikawrites @tearfallpixie @beaker1636 @circle-with-me @synthetic-wasp-570 @itsjustemily @thesazzb @vinyardmauro @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @dominuslunae @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @letmeadoreyoux @starsomens @artificialbreezy @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @lilrubles @shilohrosechicken @missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @thatchickwiththecamera @mysticdoodlez @chels3a-smile @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @roley-poley-foley @ravieisunhinged @dethronetheveil @to-be-written @somewhere-diamond @somebodyels3 @sacredthefran @th0ughts-pr4yers @skulliecadaver-blog @hayleylatour @littlefoxkota @anameunmusical @talialovesmiw @sacredthefran @jilliemiw86 @darkmxgician

"You've helped enough."

She snapped, getting up from the floor. 

Noah turned the key in the lock, slowly pushing open her apartment door; she walked under his arm like a bridge, not even bothering to look at him. Watching her cradle her wounded limb to her chest as she walked by, he hung his head shamefully.

"Sorry about that." 

He wasn't sure she had heard him as she disappeared into her tiny space to a room down the hall, muttering something to herself the entire way. Noah took notice of the mixed-matched furniture, the dark blue loveseat, the cream couch with burnt orange and dark green pillows, and a glass coffee table sitting in the center of the room on top of a worn argyle green area rug.

Scattered along her walls were pieces of eclectic art, large frames filled with a collage of smiling faces of what he presumed were friends and family; it seemed her life had been busy between trips to the beach, theme parks, nights in the clubs, at the bar, graduations and birthdays. The guilt in his chest made him incapable of looking at the pictures anymore; if she'd died on that roof, he would have been responsible for all those people missing her.

He could hear her cursing under her breath, tape ripping, and then the whimpering. He would have offered more help, but she didn't seem thrilled the first time, so he shut his mouth. Propping himself against the wall next to her kitchen, he had a perfect view down the hall and was in the ideal position to defend her front door. 

She came out of the room in a new set of clothes, struggling to put her arm through the sleeve of her khaki hoodie. 

"Oh," she sounded disappointed. Her face was pale, barely capable of keeping her eyelids open as she shuffled her way down the hall. "You're still here." 

He stood by as she entered her kitchen, searching her counters before opening the fridge. It was practically empty, but she didn't seem bothered. Jolly always kept their fridge stocked with Noah's favorite things; he was always curious when Jolly found the time.

"I need a shot," she mumbled. 

"You shouldn't drink. Your blood tastes terrible." Noah offered.

She paused. The fridge door hung open before closing it, slowly shaking her head. She opened a cabinet above her sink and pulled down a large teal plastic box. Noah stepped closer, watching her pull supplies from the old container: a few gauze pads, a wipe, some type of blue elastic, and a syringe full of a neon purple liquid.  

"What's that?" he asked.

"Something that's going to make you go away." He could hear the tears in her voice. The beast inside him whimpered. She turned around and jumped back, nearly dropping the syringe on the floor. 

"What?" he stepped back, startled by her reaction. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"It's PTSD. PTSD and hallucinations. It's not real. Go sit down." Noah got the sense she wasn't talking to him. Grabbing the syringe and her supplies, she stepped past, avoiding him, to sit on her couch. Rolling up her sleeve, she expertly secured the elastic around her arm without even opening her eyes. Noah took a seat on the couch next to her, watching as she felt around in the crook of her arm, grabbing the syringe and lining the needle with her pulsing vein. 

"Why do you do this?" he asked.

"To survive." she sighed, letting the needle pierce her skin and drain the fluid in her veins. He felt the urge to put his head in her lap, have her stroke his hair, and find ways to comfort her. 

 Removing the needle and setting it on the table, she teetered a bit before slowly lying on her left side, pulling one of the pillows under her head.

He watched as she fell asleep with little effort, the soft snores evidently meaning she was exhausted. Noah picked up the syringe, unscrewed the needle, and brought the contraption to his nose. 

He recoiled instantly at the smell, a toxic earthy scent; this is what is making her blood taste so bad. What could she possibly need it for? 

Picking himself off the couch, he wasn't sure what to do, his feet drawn to the box still sitting on the kitchen counter; looking into her box, he saw two other syringes with that purple concoction at the bottom. A small stack of bills was folded in half in the side pocket. Was she dealing or just buying?

Turning to the sleeping beauty on the couch, she looked nothing like the photos on her walls. Sure, her hair was longer, but it was dull; she was obviously curvy, maybe voluptuous; now, as she lay on her couch, she looked like a shell of her former self. Looking at her face, he could tell it had been a while since she smiled. Deep grooves under her eyes from lack of sleep and stress make the lids heavy over her brilliant-colored eyes. As the hours passed and he watched her sleep, the drive and urge to be near her faded; he missed Jolly and wanted to go home. 

He dropped her keys on the table, locking her door on his way out. He took a leisurely stroll on his way back home. He wanted to go home, but something was driving him to go back; passing a corner vendor selling tacos, he stopped to pick up a few. Sitting at the makeshift bench, the taco truck had set out, he enjoyed his lunch, taking down the eight tacos without a breath. He was famished between the morning's distractions and a frustrated state of mind; he'd skipped breakfast.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled out the black device; its thin body barely fit in his hand as he slid open the screen to reveal his texts.

Where'd you run off to?

Jolly's text was declamatory. Noah slipped a finger through the ring of his collar. Jolly knew where he was, and he always would. Collars were equipped with the finest tracking system in the city; not even underground trams interfered with their transmission. 

Needed a walk. And food.

West 42nd seems like a long walk for food.

Noah hadn't realized how far her apartment was from home; as he turned around, he discovered he couldn't even see the skyscraper through the surrounding buildings. Shocker. 

Had to clear my head.

Oh, pet. Was I harsh?

Harsh? No, it was well deserved; Noah disobeyed the rules. Seemed fair he would be punished for it. 

No, not at all

Have you been following Rule #3?

Noah could feel the twitch in his pants, the blood rushing between his thighs, reminded of the way he'd been left this morning. Again, Jolly would know if Noah had tried. The collar tracked his vitals, offering a full report to his master every six hours.

Yes, master.

Good boy. Come home. I work late tonight, but I will take care of you.

Noah never got up and tossed away his trash so fast. 

Jolly straightened up in his office chair, resting his elbows on the clutter surrounding his desk. It was late. Noah had left on duty hours ago, and their home was quiet. Noah was constantly pacing the house, blasting his music, and maybe even watching TV in two rooms simultaneously. Jolly would often sleep when he was out on duty, but he'd been hard at work tonight. His vision blurred; when he closed his eyes and rubbed the corners, he could still see the spreadsheets of costs, budget, inventory, and plans for the lab experiments all over his desktop screen. 

He was sick of working the numbers for the fourth time today. Something wasn't adding up; it hadn't been for two months now; it was minuscule at best, a few hundred here, a few hundred there. But without getting to the root of the problem, it continued to grow, and soon, they would be overrun in debt if it didn't get managed. Against his better judgment, he'd used money from his own account to balance out the difference, hoping it wouldn't bite him in the ass later. 

A new window popped up on his screen, a red dot pulsing on a grid he recognized as the city. 

Noah.

He opened the new screen, seeing the subtle alert that Noah had left his post. He'd crossed over to the next block and was still going; Jolly clicked open the tab holding the city's main alerts, observing the bank security; no breach. Jolly clicked into Noah's tracker, reviewing his vitals in real-time. He could see his heart rate increasing and his oxygen steady, with no log of wounds. 

"Where are you going?" he whispered to himself. 

When the red dot stopped at the corner, Jolly pulled up his phone, dialing Jethro's number. Two rings and the security man answered. 

"Get me all the angles for 24th and Woodman." Jolly barked, and a few loud tappings on the other end of the line came through the receiver as Jethro worked his magic. 

"Sharing." 

One large image cut into a grid of four different angles popped up on Jolly's screen. He threw his phone on the desk, lacing his fingers together to rest under his chin as he watched. 

She was climbing into a horticulture shop, disappearing behind their chain link fence. And there was Noah at the corner. Patiently sitting on his haunches, his head tilted as he watched her. Jolly punched in a few codes, just a few things that Jethro had taught him. He wasn't a tech man but a quick learner when he needed something and didn't want to bother anyone. 

The codes rewound the security footage, zooming in on the girl climbing the fence. Long dark red waves tied back into a ponytail, dark jeans, and a hoodie with a backpack hanging off her shoulders. He watched as she winced each time she used her right arm to scale the fence, rubbing her shoulder as she jumped to the ground again. 

"Well, aren't you a pretty one?" Jolly hummed to himself. 

He let the footage play out, maybe twenty-five minutes before she was back, scaling the fence again to leap down onto the sidewalk as before. 

She lost her footing, falling back onto her ass. Off his haunches in an instant, Noah closed the distance between them; she panicked, scotting herself back till she was caged in by the fence she'd just climbed. Jolly watched as Noah approached her, his head hung low, ears up; when she scrambled again, he lowered onto his front paws, bowing in front of her as he scooted closer. 

She remained still, watching Noah with intense eyes. He was close enough that if he lashed out a paw, he'd scratch her face. Instead, he dropped his head into her lap. They stayed still for several minutes, Noah's tail slowly swishing from side to side. Jolly watched as her hand reached up, hesitating over his head. 

"That's it, pretty one. He likes his ears scratched."

She obviously didn't hear him, her hand slowly lowering onto his pet's head anyway, touching Noah's ears, giving them a tentative scratch. Jolly watched Noah's vitals, his heart rate lowering and his breathing steady. His tail wagged as he leaned into her touch. 

Suddenly, Noah was on his feet, turning to look behind him. Another hunter had come around the corner; Jolly's monitors showed Noah's heart rate skyrocket and his adrenaline surge. 

Noah followed his fellow hunter as they scurried back to their posts, turning once to look over his shoulder before darting off. Jolly's eyes remained fixed on the girl still sitting on the ground, zooming in on her face. 

"What a mystery you are, sunshine." 

[stardewremixed]

If the Farmer was sick, what would the villagers bring as gifts to aid recovery?

Willy - driftwood to light a fire

Gus - homemade chicken noodle soup and garlic bread

Jodi - hearty stew

Emily - a flannel blanket

Pierre - a bag of groceries

Gunther- reading material from the library

Caroline - tea

Haley - an eyemask to help with sleep

Penny- bath salts from the spa

Clint - an extra sprinkler while the Farmer is down for the count

Harvey - medicine and herbal supplements

Marnie - barn kittens for company

Sebastian - portable video game console

Maru -star charts

Pam - a little hair of the dog

Alex - spare small TV to watch the game or dance competition reruns

Evelyn - Ginger cookies with dried cranberries (high in antioxidants) and a bouquet of flowers

Mayor Lewis - a box of tissues and throat drops

Linus - a guide about trees

Leah - fresh honey from her bee boxes

Sam - good tunes on a mix

Vincent/Jas - homemade get well soon cards

Shane - some comfort junk foods from Joja Mart

Elliott - a sounds of the ocean track to help the Farmer drift into sleep or stories on tape (preferably read by Elliott himself)

Wizard - herbs. Do you trust them? Should you trust them?

Robin - would come over and fix up broken objects or update furniture for ease

Demetrius- mushrooms (no not magic...)

[messytoybox]

William T Spears Headcanons

(Some of these are in Isolation but not all)

He is half British on his father side and 1/4 Japanese and 1/4 Chinese on his mother's side.

He is the baby of the family having one bio sister and 4 half sisters.

He is a cisgender, demi-sexual man.

His pronouns are he/him.

Drives 1982 Black chevette (I recommend looking it up. Its him if he was a car.)

He is autistic.

He was nonverbal till he was about 5.

He does occasionally have nonverbal episodes when he goes into meltdown.

Othello actually helped him set up an aac device on his phone.

If he were to say he had a best friend he would say Othello.

He wore glasses in his past life as he contracted scarlet fever from a young age.

His safe food is KFC. (Bitch me too)

Lives three stories up from Grelle's flat.

Would never admit it out loud but thinks Sebastian and Eric are very aesthetically pleasing.

Has never used a telephone any time the phone rang he handed it to Alan.

Has kept all the old mix tapes his friends made him back in the 80s'

Grelle's tape is especially well loved

He's not technologically adept it just takes him a while to accept change.

Except his apple watch he loves that thing.

Despite his very professional nature he swears like crazy.

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 795: The Pogues Rum, Sodomy, & the Lash

RIP Shane MacGowan.

I bought this LP in Camden Town, London back in 1999 when Botch was on our first European tour. I honestly don't remember much about the UK leg of the trip other than that we had a day off after the London show and we opted to stay at a promoter's house until some crazy late-night / early-morning hour before heading south to catch the ferry to France. Earlier in the day, I grabbed this LP for £8, along with a Belle & Sebastian EP. I stayed up while other people slept so that I could use the promoter's stereo to copy the records onto cassette tape for the rest of the tour.

I wasn't well versed in The Pogues, but the year prior I had gone on a road trip with some friends from Seattle to San Diego to see Unbroken play a show shortly after their guitarist Eric Allen passed away. We drove 24 hours straight, and one of the few tapes in my friend's car to keep us entertained was The Pogues' Waiting for Herb. I don't remember much about that trip, but I remember listening to "Smell of Petroleum" while everyone else was asleep and thinking I needed to listen to more of The Pogues at some point.

So I picked up Rum, Sodomy, & the Lash. The second "The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn" jumps from the somber opening bars to Shane MacGowan yelling "when you pissed yourself in Frankfurt and got syph down in Cologne / and you heard the rattling death train as you lay there all alone," I was sold. I loved the duality of these accessible and anthemic folk songs mixed with the vulgar and profane rantings of MacGowan. It felt like hearing an Irish trad band just before a fight breaks out.

And yet there is something sentimental and moving behind Rum, Sodomy, & the Lash as well. "The Old Main Drag" might carry an air of irreverence and filth, but there's an endearing melancholy to it too.

I went to a Shane MacGowan show in downtown Seattle a few years later. Murder City Devils opened, and then there was a nearly two-hour gap before Shane took the stage. I learned later that he'd disappeared during the changeover, wandering the alleys of downtown looking for crack. When he finally got corralled back to the club, he was so hammered he could barely perform. But much like that night in London where I sat in a dark living room transferring this LP to a tape or that overnight drive down the coast to California, sometimes the unspectacular moments stay with you longer than the supposed highlights. And MacGowan, along with the rest of his bandmates, excelled at taking insignificant moments, failures, and tragedies and making them feel imbued with a defiant power.

[siremasterlawrence]

Brother Boyfriend Redux Part 2

The Cowboy and the wind

The next day Eric Mark and Sebastian take me on a car ride to the country for some odd reason.

The car parks Sebastian lets me out of the car and then Eric takes the picnic basket for us setting up for lunch.

Sebastian is behind me tackling me to a tree in the meantime as we make our heavily and intensity.

His hands pin me to the tree spreading on to my body covering me in a super spreading of his body.

Eric Mark fakes a cough distracting us from each other and the grabs me to the side in a kiss.

He caresses my body sweetly making Seb so very jealous of what is about to become a new standard.

“You guys are trespassing this is my land.” I hear strange voice yell.

“Get off my land now.” He rides on his horse.

“Yes before you ask I am a Cowboy.” He states.

“We don’t give a fuck” I say waving him off as I sit down.

“Why you little piece of shit.” The man shout to the sky.

“Woah! Back OFF! NOW!” My slaves block him from approaching me.

“You best move now” he is raging mad.

“Why should we? Free country “

“Your attitude should shift in a few minutes “

The man throws a punch my way managing to escape their grasp, I evade it then jet off running.

Somewhere in the forest I hide in the dark

of shadows taunting him a bit with my foot steps.

The boys catch up with him taking a hand each both guys pin him to the tree from behind him.

“What the fuck let me go?” He screams to no one in particular.

“This was never going to go well for you” Chris replies.

“Fuck you!” He spats.

“You zip it you little shit.” Sebastian adds.

“Master it’s time kiss him” Chris states

“Kiss him…kiss him”

“NO! Get away from him”

“NO! STOP!”

“PLEASE”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Hahahahahaha”

“FUCK!”

“Why am I hard?”

“So turned on”

“Because I cast my spell”

“You are mine”

“I own you “

“Oh God! Yes”

“Hell Yeah!”

“FUCK YES!”

“Yyyyeeessss….yyyyeeesssss”

“Oooooohhhh”

“Ggggooooodddd”

“Yyyyeeeesssss…..yyyyyeeeeesssss”

The end

Staycation

We jump into the car with Cowboy Richard Brenton sitting next to me he hugs me tight in love.

He lays on mg lap allowing my hands to rub his stomach feeling all of his body up I feel complete.

The drive home is quiet for all us as I begin to instruct them to play my personal private streaming station.

The music comes on blasting loud through the cars bouncing back and forth hitting their ears.

Their minds are messing it sinks deep in to their consciousness, subconscious and their inner identity.

It’s a long four hour drive mix tape I made in the late hours of the last night settling in to their mind.

Heading back home we park the three of my bois back up everything and head up to my apartment.

Inside the keys click, I am greeted by two wide eyes open and hopping on me Grant and Stephen.

They began to hop on me pushing me to the floor proceeding to lick my face, hand and my tug me.

“Master! We love you “ Grant howls in utter happiness.

“Master! We missed you “ Stephen bounces that begin body on mine.

“Can we have a friend over?” Grant asked me.

“Sure! Why not? Let’s have a party”

“Thank you Master!”

“We will call him now”

“Are you sure Master?”

“Play some music”

“Someone dance with me”

“Hello! I am Colton”

“Nice to meet you “

“Babe!”

“Everyone show me what you got”

“Boom”

“What the fuck dude?”

“Check this out”

“Mind control smoke bomb”

“Colton catch”

“Why would you ?”

“Cccccoooouuuugggghhh”

“Inhale the smoke “

“Inhale all of it”

“Jerk”

“Breathe in”

“Why?”

“Surrender to the smoke”

“Give in to my power “

“Put on my stream”

“Yes Master”

“We are at your will”

“Convince me”

“We are on our knees “

“Worship me”

“With pleasure “

“You are all that matters “

“I want to ravish “

The end

[lilac-ravenclaw]

For when Sebastian thinks MC doesn't notice his "quick" glances at her every chance he gets. 💙

🎧 Raven’s Mix - Spotify 🎧

Lyrics

I got a lot to say to you Yeah, I got a lot to say I noticed your eyes are always glued to me Keeping them here and it makes no sense at all

They taped over your mouth Scribbled out the truth with their lies Your little spies They taped over your mouth Scribbled out the truth with their lies Your little spies

Crush, crush, crush Crush, crush (two, three, four)

Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone Just the one, two, I was just counting on That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again Let's be more than this

If you wanna play it like a game Well, come on, come on, let's play 'Cause I'd rather waste my life pretending Than have to forget you for one whole minute

They taped over your mouth Scribbled out the truth with their lies Your little spies They taped over your mouth Scribbled out the truth with their lies Your little spies

Crush, crush, crush Crush, crush (two, three, four)

Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone Just the one, two, I was just counting on That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again Let's be more than this now

Rock and roll, baby Don't you know that we're all alone now? I need something to sing about Rock and roll, hey Don't you know, baby, we're all alone now? I need something to sing about Rock and roll, hey Don't you know, baby, we're all alone now? Give me something to sing about

Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone Just the one, two, I was just counting on That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again Let's be more than, no

Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone Just the one, two, I was just counting on That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again Let's be more than

More than this Oh-ho, oh-oh, oh-oh Ooh, ooh

[spicywhumper]

@febuwhump 2024: day 11. found footage + whump bingo: forced to watch

series: untitled team/wing whump | rating: mature | word count: 1,196

cw: torture, mentioned non-con, non-graphic burns and mentioned amputation

Sebastian hates that they found the tapes, ebastian hates that he has to watch them.

he hates that the person trying to protect the younger, fresher agents is young herself. Cornnell was barely twenty-five when she was sent to this mission, barely older than the younger cadets and good ten years younger than the older soldiers.

he wants to throw up, but it's his job to know what's in them and report it.

the youngest girl of the group's so small, so tiny, she doesn't look old enough to even be accepted into the training program. she whimpers, trembling on her spot in the middle of the room. she doesn't belong here (none of them belong here).

she's curled up on the floor, cold and small, naked like all the other captives. the man looks even larger in comparison, his boot could crush her skull without a change to not.

(it might be worse that the reason they recruit young WInged is because they need the "Birds", the Winged ones that stayed tiny, that are compact balls of muscles.)8 of muscles.)

the whip on his hand uncurls, it's a small one, but with how fragile the Winged girl is, with how her wings are curled around her to try and protect her even if just a little bit, the damage will make her pass out in less than three hits.

he raises his hand, body poised to put max strength behind his motion.

there's one Winged that is almost too large to be one of them, she doesn't look to be the same species. tall and broad even for human average, a giant in comparson to every other Bird. but she's fast like them, even when dehydrated hungry and also injured. Connell jumps between them, covering the young girl easily, wings around them.

(he almost forgot how vibrantly blue they were).

she doesn't make a sound when the whip hits her. the man growls and hits again, again, again and again. feathers fly, bloodied, lashes are a sick red against the blue. most of the hits hit her wings, come the skin of her back and shoulders.

and none hit the girl curled up under her.

Sebastian takes a deep breath, at least the tapes are cut, they aren't longer than fifteen minutes, many as short as five. it takes his training to not give up after the first, but he can't. he writes down what he just watched and moves to the next. the tapes only have the length in their labels and nothing else.

the three small birds still alive are in a small pile for warmth, therir breaths visible in the air. the room seemed to have been cleaned recently. what's seen of their wings is painful. cuts, bruises, lost feathers, the boy will never fy again, there's a change the girls will.

(it's false hope).

Cornnell looks worse and better than them. her wings batteres and half-naked, but she streatches them as she stretches her body. or as much as she can, the room is not large enough.

(he forgot how large thy were, majestic even.

dangerous and sharp.)

when the man enters, it's clear what he's going to do.

he's not even in position before Cornnell is between him and the pile of little birds. her wings covers them easly, tucked in a way that looks like she's trying to cover them as much as she can. and of course she is. with a man carying a god-forsaken flamethwoerd.

there's nothing much to actually see once the fire starts, it's white in its hotness. it roars, but not louder than the screams.

the little Birds scream in fear, Cornnell in pain. she's more tolerant than them, more resistent, she's less flammable. but she's still a thing that can burn.

Sebastian throws up in the nearest trash can, it burns his throat. he saw the aftermath, when they bought Cornnell back. what was left of her wings... no feathers anymore, skin and muscles had been melted in a mix of vilently ed and sickening black. she couldn't move them, feel them, but could feel the pain close to where they sprouted from her back.

they cut them off, as close to her back as they could... they cut them off and it didn't look like she ever had them. the only evidence of her origings was the small horns on her head, easily hidden by hair. (she chose to use the spell, keep her hair in the standard buzzcut).

Sebastiasn reaches back and touches his own wing. a more common shade of abeige, almost white. the normal colors of Winged that didn't have special, neat talents. nowehere close vibrant blue of the "eels", the eletric birds.

(he knows Connell still has the powers, she just doesn't use them.)

he washes his mouth, he knew what happened to her wings, it doesn't make him any less nauseus as he watches the cruelty commited to his fellow Winged.

the boy is small under the man.... hurting him.

he holds him down with a hand larger than his head. it's hard to know if it's worse because the Bird's naked and his abuser isn't. the four other Birds are on a corner, guns pointing at them to make sure they're watching.

three man hold Cornnell, she doesn't stop struggling against them. she doesn't stop screaming insults and threats. the man on her right threats back, says she's the next to be on the ground, and that she looks strong enough to take all of them.

she spits on him face, he breaks her nose.

at least, it's short, the bulky man doesn't have much stamina.. the men leave them alone, a small blessing. the four birds don't move from their corner, the door isn't even closed when Cornnell sprints to the side of the bleeding boy. her hands hover, but she doesn't touch. he turns his head towards her, a few seconds pass.

"N-ness-" he chokes. she only nods.

with what seems to be all the strength that is left on him, the boy throws himself at her. arma around her waist, face on her neck. she easily adjusts to be sitting, on her lap, he looks even smaller than with the man violating him. but with the way he curls on her and the way she holds him, it's like he's making himself small enough that she can protect him.

she starts to mumble on his hair, eyes closed and tears on her cheek as she says comforting words that won't change anything.

because the men are cowards, there's more pleasure in harming the little ones this way then the one that could actual fight.

Sebatian wonders if it's creepy, and sick to be more heartbroken by the aftermath than by the act. he blinks, wants, again, to throw up. watched a boy as small as a 10 year-old child being brutally raped and teared up because someone was comforting him.

and he's not stupid, he read the medical reports, he knows what they did to Connell. he knows that at some point, she became "weak enough" to be usable.

Sebastian really, really hates his job.

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Soul Coughing/ Jeff Buckley Rock the House

Great American Music Hall on Thursday

night (May 4, 1995)

By MTV News Staff

May 6, 1995

12:00 AM

Editor's Note: We found a pile of notes on the recent Jeff

Buckley/Soul Coughing concert scribbled by our business manager, Steve McConnell. They were almost unintelligible, but after hours and hours of deciphering, we were able to piece together the following report.

Listen to Soul Coughing's debut album, Ruby Vroom, and you'd think the New York-based quartet were beat poets messing around with samples. See them in person however, and it is clear that they are from the New York white-boy school of rap (think low-keyed Beastie Boys). That was the most surprising thing about their terrific hour-long performance at the Great American Music Hall on Thursday night (May 4).

"You all don't have to get up," said leader singer/rapper M. Doughty, as Soul Coughing took the stage. "I was kinda digging that campfire thing." He was directing his comments to the nearly 100 people sitting cross-legged on the floor of San Francisco's Great American Music Hall.

Ruby Vroom has received some remarkable (and well deserved) reviews. The New Yorker called it "one of the best records of 1994"; Details noted that "this is some serious boho, Dada shit." Live, the group more than lived up to such praise.

Soul Coughing is comprised of Sebastian Steinberg on upright bass; Yuval Gabay, drums; M'Ark De Gli Antoni, keyboards/samples; and Doughty on guitar and vocals. They emerged from the New York avant garde jazz scene (John Zorn gets a word of thanks in the album credits). Live, the group brought together elements of Morphine (the driving bass and narrative style), Digable Planets ( rap set to jazz samples) and the Beasties. But where Digable Planets come from the rap world and the Beasties arrived via punk, Soul Coughing bring a distinctive bohemian jazz sensibility to the mix.

At the Music Hall, they performed nearly the entire album. Highlights included "Casiotone Nation," "Mr. Bitterness," "Down To This" and the amazing "Is Chicago, Is Not Chicago," which included the line "San Mateo is in the house." After performing that song, noting the enthusiastic response, Doughty said, "I guess San Mateo is in the house."

Headliner Jeff Buckley was in fine form, performing one of the most rocking sets of his current tour (at least according to a fan who saw the last four shows), stretching out many of the songs and improvising. Buckley played a taped-up red Rickenbacker six string guitar; his voice sounded even more beautiful and emotional than on his debut album, Grace. At one point someone from the audience yelled, "Shonen Knife?" "OK," replied Buckley, then played two minutes of a Shonen Knife song while the rest of the band smirked. Half way through the set Buckley played a loud and raucous version of the MC5's "Kick Out the Jams."

[zenaidamacrouras1]

42 Perfect Songs - 1998

This is a song I didn't get into until the early 2000s but it made it's way onto a many a mixed tape, in my dreamy, confused early college years, in which there were a lot of THINGs that happened but this one, to me, encapsulates a lot of the best of the things.

Sleep the Clock Around by Belle and Sebastian

This song just came at the right time and meant the right things and sounded the right way. It's not just perfect because it's very good, it's perfect because it's a whole generation.

I love the constant, driving addictive harmony, slowly growing. It's about being young and weird and having a lot of pressure and depressed and maybe doing drugs and honestly you need drugs but you haven't totally figured out that Lexapro is going to work better than what you're trying right now. And it's about maybe you're going to be okay anyway, even though you're not quite sure how.

Honorable 1998 mentions:

Lucinda Williams - Car Wheels on a Gravel Road - this is one of my fucking favorite albums of all time. It's that sweet spot of "extremely rooted in local place folk music that's also very depressed and sexy" that is one of my absolute FAVORITE genres of music. I love albums that just take you through the map of a place, mentioning place names and people they know and big feelings. Every song is perfect. It's a perfect album. Someone once told me they were driving through a snowstorm in the mountains and reasonably certain they were going to die and put on this album because it's the right album to be the last music you ever hear and I think they made a really good choice (they lived). Hard Knock Life by Jay Z Mermaid Avenue - Woody Guthrie cover songs by Billy Brag and Wilco (aaaahhhhh it's so good). It's also meaningful as we start to really see a creep of folk music into pop and a new resurgence of American Old Time music. Tropicalia by Beck - it was a good year for mellow songs with generic beat that runs through the whole thing and a lot of words in a row. Cat Power - Moon pix - this album felt big and important at the time. The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill - This album felt even biggerer and importanterer. I listened to this a bagillion times in a row.

Here's the list (I'll make a playlist at some point)

2005 - Up the Wolves, Mountain Goats, 1999 - Hot Topic by Le Tigre, 1998 - Belle and Sebastian - Sleep the Clock Around, 1995 - Santa Monica, Everclear, 1993 - Rebirth of Slick, Digable Planets 1992 - Rebel Girl, Bikini Kill 1987 - Whitney Houston - I Wanna Dance with Somebody, 1983 - Islands in the Stream by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers, 1982 - Edge of Seventeen, Stevie Nicks 1981 - Happy Birthday, Stevie Wonder

[weekendance]

THE TUESDAY TAPES MARTEDÌ 24 GENNAIO 2023 1) LADYTRON > City of Angels 2) BILEO > You Can Win 3) THE BEAT > Too Nice to Talk to 4) MARINE > Marenas Bop 5) EN ATTENDANT ANA > Same Old Story 6) BELLE AND SEBASTIAN > So in the Moment 7) GLYDERS > High Time 8) JOHN CALE > Noise of You 9) JOHN CALE feat. WEYES BLOOD > Story of Blood 10) KILYNN LUNSFORD > North Sea Shrimps 11) BOBBY HUTCHERSON & HAROLD LAND > Goin’ Down South 12) BUDDHA STICK > Traction 13) PSYCHEMAGIK > Valley of Paradise (Time & Space Machine mix) (PS: se non visualizzate il widget, lo streaming della puntata è QUI)

[thetuesdaytapes]

THE TUESDAY TAPES MARTEDÌ 24 GENNAIO 2023 1) LADYTRON > City of Angels 2) BILEO > You Can Win 3) THE BEAT > Too Nice to Talk to 4) MARINE > Marenas Bop 5) EN ATTENDANT ANA > Same Old Story 6) BELLE AND SEBASTIAN > So in the Moment 7) GLYDERS > High Time 8) JOHN CALE > Noise of You 9) JOHN CALE feat. WEYES BLOOD > Story of Blood 10) KILYNN LUNSFORD > North Sea Shrimps 11) BOBBY HUTCHERSON & HAROLD LAND > Goin’ Down South 12) BUDDHA STICK > Traction 13) PSYCHEMAGIK > Valley of Paradise (Time & Space Machine mix) Ascolta su MIXCLOUD Ascolta su SPREAKER Guarda su YOUTUBE

[aajjks]

it’s not jungkooks condoms but i do want to say, there is no sa!

bunny!jungkook sir please calm down! you said your daughter is gone? let’s go check the cameras. somebody call the cops! wait, mr jeon don’t you have a detective working for you to find your wife? call him instead. he will need to know. let’s check out the cameras. okay.. is this the officer that you saw? i’ve never seen him before. okay, there you go to leave and he.. watches you? he watched you leave. oh, he’s going to the window? probably to make sure you’re off the premises. what’s he doing? and there he goes with ella.. detective jung!! i’m here, watch the tapes!

jung: he’s not one of our officers but i will send his photo to our team and they’ll find out who he is! whoever he is, he must have either been the one to take your wife or at least is apart of the operation. just means we’re just one more step closer to finding your wife. i know this is hard for you mr jeon but please be patient with us. we will find your family! i spoke to your mother in law on the way here, she should be here soon. it’s best you two constantly stick together. we don’t know who is abducting your family but that also means we don’t know what motive is behind all of this. before this, we thought the person who took yn just wanted her and that’s why the child was left. considering you said yn was pregnant, we took into consideration they may have harmed her to abortion or miscarriage but we never expected they’d come back for her daughter. if they don’t mind the children being mixed with someone who’s not them then not only may your wife and daughter still be alive but your unborn child! i’ll give you a call back- well wait.. hello? you already have a name? what is it? okay, thank you! me jeon do you know anybody by the name sebastian? the man who took your child was identified to be sebastian thompson. have you ever met him? has yn ever met him?

“Y-You’re saying that this is Sebastian Thompson? I actually know Sebastian but I don’t know his last name but he is my neighbors baby daddy…. Yeah that’s the only way to describe him… and my neighbors name is Charlotte and she has a daughter called Maggie. I think you should interrogate them now, because my daughter told me that…. Charlotte doesn’t really like her that much and she gets really uncomfortable whenever she is near her so… maybe there’s something very much wrong… going on that I am not aware of… please come with me officer.”