Hello anon! So as a follow-on to this post from earlier today, here are some additional thoughts (some as discussed with @astronomical-light this afternoon)
Alex breaks up with Lily because it's the right thing to do, and he tells George why, less because it's the right thing to do and more because George was honest with him and he thinks he owes him that back.
George is furious. Lily is LOVELY Alex LOVES her Alex don't even want him he just doesn't like change. And Alex is so taken aback, even more so when George tells him he's happy with his boyfriend and if Alex thinks he's just going to end things because Alex is having a hard time coping with their friendship changing he's got another thing coming. Alex is all flustered like I'm not saying that! of course I wouldn't expect you to do that? George asks, why did you tell me, then? What did you hope to gain from telling me this right now?
Alex says he didn't want anything! He just wanted George to... know. And it sounds lame when he says it but it's the truth. He didn't think about the implications, or how George would take it, or really mean to imply what George is ascribing to him.
George has to have a conversation with his boyfriend because it's obvious something is bothering him. Basically says, "Alex told me he has feelings for me. He broke up with Lily." And boyfriend says. "Wow. Serious feelings." George does not know this but his boyfriend knows it's the beginning of the end.
The boyfriend can feel the way it turns into an effort for George, being the good boyfriend, doing the work, doubling down on trying to get it right. He tries to have a conversation with George and George has always believed that you can make something right if you just work hard enough at it, but his boyfriend doesn't want to be something George has to work at that way.
George gets SO mad, says you don't know me better than I know myself, you don't know what I want! Boyfriend is says, okay, sure, but don't make it my problem that you're mad about Alex's shitty timing and you're trying to make him suffer.
Which is maybe a little meaner than George deserves but isn't too far from the truth. Because Alex doesn't actually think this but George hates feeling like Alex thinks he's just a puppy on the leash waiting for his master to snap his fingers. George felt so lonely for so long, and he yearned for so long, and now Alex is just going to blow up his relationship and George's and get what he wants like always without hurting for it the way George did. He hasn't put a name yet to this open wound of unjustified resentment, but it's there.
After George's boyfriend ends things with him, George gets drunk and calls Alex, says "I hope you're fucking happy I hope this is what you wanted I hope you feel good right now"
Alex is kind of stunned, like, "Georgie, I'm so sorry." And George says, "but you're not though, are you? Because now I'm a free agent so we may as well get together." And Alex goes very very quiet on the phone and says "'may as well' isn't exactly how I'd hope you feel about being in a relationship with me."
It's a shitty phone call and George regrets it very much when he's hungover the next day but it does get Alex thinking about optics, and the ways George has been responding to him start to make a lot more sense.
Alex comes by with a breakfast treat, which is big of him and better than George deserves and absolutely the kind of thing they'd do if everything wasn't weird and they were proper friends, and George sees him and feels sick-guilty because he's so fond of Alex it takes his breath away and he's been such an ass but knowing that doesn't take away the hurt he feels. So he lets Alex in and starts apologizing for the phone call, says he was out of line, says he knows Alex better than that, knows Alex wouldn't like to see him ...sad.
Alex watches him spin his wheels until he ends on that and then he's like, you're my best friend, George, but I feel like you've been keeping some things from me. And George tells Alex he thought he was okay being the third wheel but he probably should've spent less time with Alex and Lily because it made him feel like Alex took him for granted, like he could have Lily and George too and George was just supposed to be okay with sitting on the other end of the couch while Lily and Alex snuggled and kissed and he knows, he knows he told Alex to treat him the same after his confession but he was wrong, and now he's worried he has broken something, because he wanted Alex to feel lonely like he did and that makes him an awful person because - and he's definitely crying by this point - he does love Alex and it's a horrible thing to think.
I think it WOULD take Alex aback. It's logical enough but from his perspective it's unexpected, both the depth of George's hurt and how bottled up it was (George? Repressing? Never.)
He's says, Okay. Says, I'm sorry I made you feel that way. Says, do you, should I go?
And George makes this wounded noise and says he'd understand if Alex wanted to and Alex says that's not what I asked. And George says he doesn't want Alex to go.
the last time i went to an amusement park i was like.. i dont even remember but it was a really long time ago
silly people.. also i feel like if i gave guy0509 my phone they would just start swiping and looking through everything.. i keep phone far away when showing them something
i put a lot of people multiple times just because ALSO I WAS RUNNING OUT OF ROOM IM SURE YOU CAN TELL
I absolutely LOVE people and I love it when they're happy!
...heh, heh, yeeah, guilty as charged. I've been getting better at putting myself first and not working myself into the ground to make other people happy. And also enforcing boundaries and asking for things.
ABSOLUTELY. BOTH. ALWAYS. I'm a good person but I strive to be a bad influence... if you need to make a bad decision... you know where to find me.
are you sure you haven't been secretly watching me? This is painfully true. I pick up new hobbies and drop them like they're hot. I start new projects and leave them to grow dust. it's uh, a tiny bit of a problem sometimes.
Huh, I wasn't expecting this one! I actually consider myself an extrovert. If you leave me in a room by myself, I will wilt. I will droop and drown and die. However if I'm in a room with other people, even if we never interact, I feel good. I neeeed people like I need sunlight and air. I do sometimes get tired of talking to irl people (and very rarely my online peeps too) but I think that's a social battery thing and not a introvert thing. People energize me but they can also tire me out.
I WISH! I would loooove to pull pranks on people but I don't have people who are chill with that and I also don't have good pranks to pull. One day though, I hope to be a successful prankster.
THANK YOU! I absolutely have GREAT music taste (in my not so humble opinion) and love being the DJ (controller of the spotify playlist) with my siblings
it is true
*applause* Good job! These were almost all accurate! I give you a 92%
For the headcanon meme, I think upon learning that you like royal aesthetics, Atsushi would give you cute nicknames related to it, like princess or lady! ~starshine-selfships
Awww!!! This is so sweet and cute to think about!! 😍😍🥰🥰💓💗💘💓💕💝💖💕
He would definitely say that for the most part! When he actually says it, it’s pretty genuine compliments and praise. After he knows I do have some royal European blood in me from my family tree irl, he’d lay it on thick by calling me “his princess” or “his lady”. 👑 💎
And I’d melt...every...single...damn time.
(Like this! 🤣🤣🤣)
But other times, he’d be a butt about it and try to get a little “too” persuasive by getting me to do things I know I don’t like...at all. (Aka me doing any chores, finishing up paper bills, organizing stuff, important work assignments, etc)
Like he’d be just—
“C’mon Chrissy, I know you don’t like to do this, but please...do it for me my princess?~” in the most sweetest and smoothest of tones he could muster.
And he’d clasp my hands together, and give me the softest eyes KNOWING...that I’d fall for it...hook, line, and sinker. And if he REALLY wants to lay it on thick...he’d take one of my hands and kiss the top of it gently.
(Like this!)
Being the smooth criminal he is (he definitely took a few flirting tips from Dazai-san!), I’d definitely be flustered and annoyed with Atsushi. But I’d let him get whatever he wanted from me soon afterwards. 💝💖💓💘💕💗
My tiger hubby’s a sassy roll , but he’s an adorable one at that, which lets him get away with a lot of crap from me. His cuteness is his selling point, and he KNOWS he can get away with it because that’s my weak point! Which is me getting buttered up with words!! 🤣🤣🤣
Thanks so much for sending this in my inbox! I had WAAYYY too much fun imagining this headcanon and gushing about it! I appreciate you lots my dear! 💓💖💘💝💗💕💕💘💝💗
for ur ask promopt thingy!! not sure what ur thoughts are on this pairing so no worries if it's not ur jam butttttt jenson and seb my beloveds with like mafia-esque jenson and sweetheart seb. or because the FOB Save Rock N Roll vibes, the start of just one yesterday, the I Thought of Angels, Choking on their halos, get them drunk on rose water, lines and Jenson/Seb 🥰
Oh my GOODNESS anon, thank you so much for this, it sent me and @astronomical-light into the best kind of tailspin. And now you get this! But know that there is a whole verse and many scenes fleshed out already, there are many rooms in this house, as it were, and if you or anyone else want verse-specific prompts or expanded commentary or what have you, feel free to ask.
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Jenson’s good at minding his own business. It’s a point of pride, really, and it’s served him well so far, working where he does, the clients he has. And mostly Jenson figures people make their own luck, so there’s not much to be gained from interfering in places he isn’t asked to go. All that said, when the Jaguar E-Type rolls up to his shop, Jenson figures the driver is looking for a world of trouble. And when the slender blond man steps out of the car, he’s sure of it.
“Hello,” Jenson calls. He’s most of the way done with a tune-up for one of his regulars, wipes his hands on a shop towel as he wanders up to the front. “Can I help you?”
The man turns a dazzling smile on him, eyes raking up and down Jenson’s body in the most blatant come-on he’s experience in a while. It’s not unappreciated, the man’s features are soft, veering towards pretty, haloed by curly blond hair.
“I certainly hope so,” the man says, tone fully matching his gaze. He’s foreign, Jenson thinks, German maybe. He pats the side of his car without looking away from Jenson. “I need an oil change.”
And here’s the thing – Jenson isn’t much of a good Samaritan, but he’s always had a soft spot for big blue eyes. This guy is about to find himself in more trouble than he has any idea what to do with.
“I’m pretty swamped right now,” Jenson says, grabbing a piece of scrap paper to write down a recommendation. “I know a great mechanic on the other side of town.”
The man sweeps his gaze around the garage, the single car with the hood up. “I can wait,” he says. He takes the piece of paper from Jenson and shoves it in his back pocket. There’s something in his gaze Jenson can’t pin down, something like steel.
“I haven’t seen you around here before,” Jenson says, changing tactics. He’d remember – the car and the man.
“No, you haven’t. But I need an oil change, and you don’t seem that busy.”
Jenson gives up on subtlety. “This car is too nice to be driving around here, you know, this isn’t really a place for someone like you.”
The man smiles wide, looks delighted as he crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the car. “And what is someone like me?” he asks.
“Not from around here,” Jenson replies levelly. “Rich. Flashy.”
“But you came so highly recommended,” the man says.
Warning bells go off in Jenson’s head. “By who?” he asks.
“Michael,” the man replies. Michael. Well. Either he’s lying and Jenson’s in a world of hurt, or he’s not, and he’ll be in a world of hurt if he doesn’t service the car. Nice of the family to let him know someone was stopping by.
Jenson’s eyes narrow. “What’s your name?” he asks.
“Sebastian Vettel,” the man replies, extending his hand. “And you’re Jenson Button.”
“I haven’t heard your name come up,” Jenson replies, shaking his hand. He’s not really in the family’s business, but he hears enough.
“No,” Sebastian says. “I don’t think you would have.”
Jenson nods. Back to about minding his own business – if the guy’s lying, well, that’ll catch him soon enough. “Let me finish up here,” he says. “I’ll be right with you.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Sebastian tells him, and Jenson knows those big blue eyes are watching as he walks back across the garage, can’t help but walk a little straighter.
Jenson’s just finishing up Sebastian’s oil change when he hears Michael. He didn’t hear a car, so he must’ve walked from somewhere. Probably the club up the street, making his rounds.
“Seb,” Michael calls, and Jenson straightens up just in time to see Michael wrap Sebastian up in a tight hug. Huh. He’s not usually given to displays of affection. “You’re in early.”
“I wanted to surprise you,” Sebastian replies. “But your assistant said you were busy until this evening.”
“I’m always busy,” Michael replies. “Isn’t that right, Jenson?”
Jenson looks up sharply at being acknowledged. “That’s right, Mr. Schumacher.” He always calls Michael Mr. Schumacher – it’s a running joke at this point, and it startles a laugh out of Sebastian.
“You don’t make people call you that, do you?” Sebastian asks.
Michael rolls his eyes. “People call me what they feel like. Jenson’s a stickler for formality.”
Jenson wanders up to the front and starts working up Sebastian’s receipt.
“Put it on mine,” Michael says.
Jenson’s eyes slide from Sebastian to the car and back to Michael. He nods. “Okay.” He makes a note in the ledger Michael sends someone to balance at the end of every month, lump payments that always make Jenson nervous until he gets them to the bank.
“You’re good to go,” Jenson says to Sebastian, walking over to hand him his keys.
“Jenson,” Michael says, “did you ever meet my little brother before my mother left?”
The world shifts beneath Jenson’s feet.
“No,” he says, not looking away from Sebastian. “I don’t believe so.”
“Seb has just come back to us from uni,” Michael says. “Posh degree from Berlin.”
“Congratulations,” Jenson says, smiling. He takes all his flirtatious inclinations and puts them in a box labeled absolutely off limits. He’s not about a slow, painful death. Indiscretions with another man are one thing, but with a member of the family? With Michael’s brother? Seb can look all day, Jenson isn’t playing.
“We’ll see you around,” Michael says. “I’ve got some extra work for you later this week.” He claps Jenson on the shoulder and then takes the keys from Sebastian, who squawks in protest. “I’ve been waiting to take try thing out ever since I paid for it, get in.”
They back carefully out of the garage, and then peel down the narrow street into the morass of London traffic.
Jesus. Two of them.
Seb isn’t with the family later that week, when Jenson dresses up neatly and combs his hair and makes sure that there’s no grease under his fingernails even though he’ll be wearing white gloves for the drive. He’s more than a chauffeur, nights like this, knows he’s a getaway driver as well, backup, an alibi. When Michael and his guys get back in the car, breathing heavy, all Michael says is drive, and Jenson drives.
The next time Jenson sees Sebastian – he tells himself to think of him as Sebastian – he’s bringing in Corinna’s car. Jenson is prepared to greet Corinna, to ask after the children, when the car pulls in and he can see Seb’s face.
“Mr. Vettel,” he says, tone as neutral as possible.
Sebastian’s face falls. “Oh, no,” he says. “Don’t call me that.” He hands Jenson the keys, makes sure his fingers graze Jenson’s palm.
“Am I saying it wrong?” Jenson asks, purposefully obtuse.
“No,” Sebastian says, “but I don’t need all that formality. Seb, please.”
Jenson just nods and gets to work. He’s used to working in silence. When Corinna brings the car, she usually has one of the children with her, and they set up in his office and color or read a book. Sebastian pulls over a stool and watches.
“How long have you been working for my brother?” he asks.
“I don’t work for your brother,” Jenson replies.
“You do work for him,” Sebastian counters.
“I do work for a lot of people,” Jenson says.
It goes on like that, back and forth. Jenson has to stop and check twice that he rotated the tires to the correct positions.
“You’re distracting, you know that?” he asks, wiping at his forehead. He feels a twinge of anxiety, he doesn’t know Sebastian, after all, and he could have a temper. Maybe this all a test, to see if he can make Jenson snap and then make him pay for it.
Sebastian just smiles. “Good,” he says. “I like distracting you.”
Jenson pauses in the middle of tightening a wheel nut. “I’m not looking for trouble with your family,” he says, injecting as much of a warning into his tone as he can muster without being disrespectful.
“What trouble?” Sebastian asks, and his tone is blithe but there’s a faint furrow between his eyebrows, as though he’s genuinely confused. “Michael thinks the world of you.”
“I’d like to keep it that way,” Jenson says, and he refuses to be drawn back into conversation, tries to ignore the swell of guilt at the kicked-puppy look Sebastian gives him when Jenson puts the keys down on the counter instead of handing them to him.
It’s long enough before Sebastian brings another car in that Jenson had started to think his message took. It didn’t. Sebastian shows up with Michael’s car, and Jenson curses his luck because he is actually busy, there are two cars ahead in the queue, but if Michael needs his car fast, that’s going to rearrange his whole afternoon.
“Is he in a hurry?” Jenson asks.
Sebastian shakes his head. “No, he’s out with Corinna. I offered to take care of it.”
Jenson watches Sebastian take his perch on the stool again, and thinks maybe he should rearrange his afternoon anyway.
This time Sebastian doesn’t try to talk much, but he’s watching, the same blatant interest.
“I’ve got a bookshelf,” Jenson offers, “the paper, if you want something to do.”
“I like watching you work,” Sebastian says. “Do you mind?”
Jenson straightens up, wiping his hands on a shop towel. God bless him, but here he goes not minding his own business again.
“I don’t know what it’s like in Germany,” Jenson says, “but around here you can run into some real trouble watching another man that way.”
Sebastian’s expression does something funny, and Jenson hopes to God he hasn’t read all this wrong. He’s so fucked if he’s read this wrong.
“What kind of trouble?” Sebastian asks.
“Jail,” Jenson retorts drily. “Or worse.”
“Are you concerned for my sake,” Sebastian asks, “or yours?” It’s a loaded question.
Jenson exhales, takes a shot on honesty. “Both,” he says, and watches as Sebastian’s expression gentles from his usual wide grin into something softer.
“We don’t have to do anything that would get us in trouble,” Sebastian says, pushing to his feet. “Not if we’re the only ones who know.”
“There’s no such thing as a secret between two people,” Jenson replies. He should move away from Sebastian, he knows it. He should end the conversation and put some distance back between them and start working on Michael’s car.
Sebastian rolls his eyes. “So I’ll keep my secret, and you keep yours, how about that?”
“That’s not,” Jenson starts to say, but then Sebastian is in front of him, and his lips are pressed to Jenson’s and it’s shocking because it’s so brazen, and it’s shocking because it’s unexpected, and it’s shocking because Sebastian kisses with the authority of experience and the exuberance of youth all at once and Jenson finds himself parting his lips for Sebastian’s searching tongue before reality slams into him like icy water.
“Stop,” he snaps, shoving Sebastian away. Both of their chests are heaving, and Jenson can see a grease mark on the sleeve of Seb’s shirt. “Damnit,” Jenson says. He shoves a hand into his hair and turns away.
“Sorry,” Sebastian says. He sounds contrite. “I’m sorry. That was-”
“Stupid,” Jenson says. “Anyone could come in here. Anyone could see.”
“So let’s go into the office,” Sebastian says, resting a hand gently on his shoulder.
“I never close the shades,” Jenson replies, but Sebastian is already walking backwards towards the office.
“You have a bell on the front door,” Sebastian says. “We’ll hear a car pull up.”
“This is a terrible idea,” Jenson says, because it is, even with Sebastian in front of him with his brilliant smile, looking like the best offer Jenson’s seen in years.
“I know it is,” Sebastian says, that same sincerity. Jenson can’t help it, reaches out to rest his hands on Sebastian’s slender hips, feels the warmth of his body close, inviting.
“I’m at work,” Jenson says, one last, weak protest.
“What better place is there to hide?” Sebastian asks, and he lowers the blinds.
