#sv1

[tyrestrategist]

[pitstoplexi]

The difference between Nico Vs Vettel in the paddock is so funny to me 😂

The teams with Seb: Omg Seb welcome back!! Come join us and say hi?!

The teams with Nico: Don’t make him come in here, he’s only here for gossip and if he takes a selfie he’s going to curse us all

[lystful]

Detroit!AU

Btw I’m very available for comms now so I’ll be glad if you check my pinned post 🙏🙏🙏

[formulakracing]

late night sessions — sv1

pairing -> singer!reader + red bull! sebastian vettel

word count -> 1.5k

warnings -> sexual innuendoes, slight metaphors for desire/lust, cursing, slight age gap (nothin' crazy y'all), seb trying so hard to restrain himself, yearning, two idiots in love, slight angst

a/n -> this one is for one of my besties. if you know, you know.

no session was the same.

that was something sebastian vettel learned very early on in their relationship.

sometimes they were spontaneous, fueled by passion, brimmed with desire, pupils blown wide open as warmth seeped into her cheeks.

other times they were slower, measured and deliberate, her brows furrowed together with concentration as she found that sweet release.

that blissful escape.

and without fail, she was always the one to initiate.

he loved that part of her. that desire that seared through her veins. the way her voice trembled as she asserted her needs. the flicker of a flame in her stare, framed by those eyelashes that left him weak.

whether it was 6:36 a.m. or 10:12 p.m., he was down for it. as long as she received that sweet, sweet, euphoria.

after all, sebastian vettel was never one to tell his woman no.

not when his woman was a grammy nominated, world renowned, triple platinum indie artist.

well, she loathed that label. despised every aspect of it.

you see, his love bug didn't really like being placed in a box. she mentioned to him that it felt like a cage, where she couldn't express herself freely. she preferred to remain ambiguous, crafting melodies to fit whatever was her on mind that day.

sometimes it was anger, furious ballads with heavy synth instrumentals and distorted shouts. often times it was the whisper of melancholy, laced with a nostalgia that you couldn't quite place.

like walking through your childhood home, fingertips running along your bedding, recollecting that nothing will ever be the same again.

yet, it was her voice that really tugged at his heart.

if she was a siren, he was a sailor, entranced and allured by her call.

and fuck, was he ready to risk it all.

it's the rustling of sheets that pull him out of his slumber, cool air slithering up his legs.

blearily, a hand rubs his left eye, the words rumbling from the base of his throat, thick with exhaustion.

"going to write, bug?"

she hums, her weight shifting so that the bed dips.

"mhm. i won't be long. i just had this dream and i need to get it out before i lose it."

that was one boundary he never crossed.

if she wanted her solitude, then he let her have it.

after all, he couldn't bring himself to disturb her creative process.

however, the warmth of her palm as it connects with his neck signals that maybe she didn't want to go downstairs alone.

her touch is light, tender as fingertips trail along his jaw, trailing over his lips, descending down to his chin.

between his thighs, he feels the rush of blood as it pumps through his veins.

"careful," he murmurs, the word dripped with his accent, "you may not get much writing done if you keep that up."

"what if i wanted you to come with?" lips graze his earlobe, breath fanning against tousled rays of sunlight, "come down with me, lover boy."

it doesn't take much for him to wake up after that.

donning a faded t-shirt and sweats, he pads down the stairs, noting the sway of her hips with every step, cotton pants hanging loosely, inky lines of her tattoos barely visible.

in her grasp is her journal, the leather binding torn and tattered, corners of loose pages poking through. her hair is thrown up, just enough so that it is out of her face as she writes.

in the low light, he catches the birth mark behind her ear, jaw clenching.

fuck, was he riled up.

she tended to have that effect on him.

often.

her spell was so powerful that even the slightest glimpse of her dazzling grin had his knees buckling. the tiniest whisper of his voice had him spiraling, clutching his chest to contain his rampant heart. and when she experimented with fashion? there were some days in the garage that he had to remind himself where he was.

sometimes it was so bad that kimi threatened to blindfold him so that he didn't make those "disgusting goo goo eyes."

of course, sebastian would tease that it would amp him up even more.

the door knob clicks, notifying sebastian that they made it to the recording studio. it was a simple setup in the basement of her home: microphone stand, bass, and various percussion instruments strewn about. her keyboard was tucked away in the corner, amps lined up neatly beside it.

the booth and production were separated by a layer of drywall, constructed by her father himself. there was a window, along with every possible apparatus and piece of equipment she could dream of hooked up in its own organized fashion. there were a few chairs on the production side, reserved for a select group of people.

sebastian, her best friend, margo, and lukas, her producer. however, they preferred the term visionary partners.

"seb," her voice floats from the other side of the wall, angelic, "can you switch on the computer? i need to make sure i get these demos saved."

"of course."

leaning over the motherboard of dials, switches, and buttons, he flicks on the computer. the tower whirs to life, screen illuminating the dim space.

"what do you want to me pull up, bug?"

"pull up that software lukas downloaded last night. i want to try it out. i'm feeling loose tonight."

at that, the corners up his lips twitch into a smile, fingers clicking the mouse. swaying to his left, he flashes a thumbs up.

"i'll hit record whenever you're ready."

"just a few more minutes," she replies, the sound of scribbling echoing off the walls, "i need to think."

"well don't overdo it," leaning back in the chair, his gaze settles on her through the glass, "that pretty head of yours might combust."

"i promise i won't," she deadpans, and he can make out the hint of a scoff, "you worry too much."

"i always worry about my little einstein," fighting a yawn, he props his chin up with a hand, "take as long as you need, bug. i'll be right here."

minutes pass before her head pokes around the door frame, headphones in her grasp, "okay, i'm ready."

"all right," nodding, sebastian scoots over to the keyboard, hand floating above the mouse, "the stage is yours, love bug."

sliding the headphones on, she gives him a thumbs up, notifying him that it was time. sebastian's index finger applies pressure, the key clacking.

as she leans into the microphone, her voice spills from her diaphragm, tantalizing as it drifts into his ears. it's haunting, aching with a softness that sweeps him off his feet, this longing sensation unraveling in his chest tenfold the moment his eyes take in how the light dances across her features.

nothing scared him. not even the dread that filled him to the brim as he braced for impact. not even the skid of tires as the car sailed across wet tarmac, struggling to find grip. not even the fumes of smoke as engines failed, the various buttons and levers drained of their power.

one thing did, though.

and it absolutely terrified him.

the one thing sebastian vettel feared most was the idea of never being able to watch her perform ever again.

it was paralyzing, the fibers of his muscles straining as the thought bubbled to the surface from time to time. it was fleeting, only coming to fruition every now and then.

but it was enough to leave sweat pooling in his palms, jaw wound so tight that it left his neck searing.

so, that is why any time she sent the invitation, he graciously accepted it.

because why skip out on the opportunity to watch the person you adored more than anything do what they loved most?

blinking, the german's head swivels over to the clock on the wall.

the time read 1:47 a.m.

although she said it wasn't going to be long, from the way she sounded, voice raw and unfiltered, it was going to be another few more hours in the studio.

thank god for the mini fridge stocked with red bull.

not that sebastian minded watching anyway. she was in her zone. where she was most vulnerable, finding that flow state that sent adrenaline crashing throughout her being like tidal waves.

he often found that she was most ethereal in this state. a divine goddess confined to this mortal state.

and perhaps he was under her spell, completely and utterly hypnotized, separated by a thin layer of glass, paint, and insulation.

his own private concert, spanning all hours of the night.

fuck, was she gorgeous.

fuck, was she absolutely stunning.

and fuck, she was his.

all his.

his love bug, no one else's. and here he was, able to just watch for as long as he wanted. to study every little thing until it was ingrained in his memory, stored away to fantasize and dream about any time he wanted.

as he suppresses a groan, the german can't help but glance down at his pants, swallowing thickly.

even if she was going to be a few hours, the throbbing between his thighs would be keeping him wide awake.

[tinselplum]

impressions of strangeview 👽✨ - rotation 1

i've been playing a combination of pleasantview + strangetown and am having a blast. chloe & nina? perfection. angela flirting with tank during a date with dustin? not ideal. ophelia and jennifer being haunted by the supernatural? quite nerve-wracking for me tbh. vidcund being forcefully subjected to his brothers' love lives? abysmal, if you asked him.

| next >

[ncrsbrg]

You mean to tell me this is the man that haunts Mark Webber’s dreams..?!?

[fangirlfuel]

Golden Hours

---

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Reader

---

The morning sun bathed the rolling green hills of Switzerland in a golden hue, birds chirping like nature’s own lullaby. The aroma of fresh bread and honey drifted through the open windows of your home—the one you and Sebastian had chosen after he stepped away from the high-speed chaos of Formula 1.

You were in the kitchen, barefoot, in a soft cotton dress, humming as you sliced strawberries into a ceramic bowl. The kids were still asleep upstairs, their soft breathing like music from heaven.

Then came the creak of floorboards behind you, followed by warm arms wrapping around your waist and a familiar kiss pressed to your shoulder.

“Mmm, morning,” Seb mumbled, his voice still wrapped in sleep.

You leaned into him. “Morning, sleepyhead. You missed the sunrise.”

“I've seen thousands of sunrises, but none of them smelled like you and strawberries,” he teased, nuzzling your neck. “You’re glowing.”

“I’m sweaty.”

“Same thing,” he grinned.

Just then, soft footsteps padded down the stairs.

“Papa?” A tiny voice called out.

Seb pulled away to crouch down. “Lina! Come here, sunshine!”

Your four-year-old daughter, with wild curls and her father’s curious green eyes, ran straight into Seb’s arms. He picked her up and spun her gently, her giggles filling the kitchen like a melody.

“Where’s your brother?” you asked, smiling.

“Still sleepin’,” Lina replied, laying her head on Seb’s shoulder.

“Let’s not wake him. He takes after you,” Seb chuckled, poking your side.

You rolled your eyes. “He’s one, Seb. He needs sleep.”

“He’s a Vettel. He needs speed.”

Lina laughed again, clearly not understanding the joke, but basking in the joy of it.

You all sat down for breakfast—simple, homemade, and perfect. Seb cut up fruit for Lina, occasionally sneaking a bite himself. You watched him, completely taken by how much he’d bloomed in this quieter life. He was still the Sebastian Vettel who could tear through corners with unmatched precision—but now, he did puzzles with equal intensity.

---

Later that morning, the three of you tiptoed into baby Leo’s room. He was awake by then, babbling to himself and clutching a tiny stuffed bee.

“Buzz buzz,” Seb whispered, crawling toward the crib like a mischievous kid.

Leo squealed and reached out his chubby arms as his father swooped in and lifted him high into the air.

“Super Leo!” Seb declared, twirling him.

The baby laughed so hard he snorted, and Lina clapped her hands like it was the best performance in the world.

You leaned against the doorway, heart bursting. These were the moments you lived for—the simple ones. The ones where you could see the love you built woven into every second.

---

By noon, the backyard had transformed into a magical kingdom.

Seb had built a makeshift tent from bedsheets and sticks with Lina, who declared herself queen. Leo crawled in and out of the tent, holding pebbles like treasures. You sat on a picnic blanket, cutting sandwiches into heart shapes.

“You are hereby knighted, Sir Papa of Bees,” Lina said dramatically, touching a plastic sword to Seb’s shoulder.

Seb bowed deeply. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness. May I request another cup of imaginary tea?”

“But only if you bring Mama flowers,” she instructed.

Seb stood up, saluted, and jogged off dramatically into the garden, returning moments later with a bundle of wildflowers. He handed them to you with a goofy grin and a kiss.

“Your tea, my lady?”

You smiled, brushing a flower against his nose. “Only if you promise to never stop being this silly.”

“Never,” he said, sincerely.

---

That afternoon, you all went for a walk through the nearby forest. Leo was strapped to Seb’s back in a carrier, happily babbling and pulling at his father’s shirt collar. Lina skipped ahead, holding your hand.

“I love the trees,” she whispered. “They’re like tall friends.”

Seb glanced back at you. “She’s poetic. Definitely gets that from you.”

“And stubborn. That’s all you.”

He grinned. “Guilty.”

---

When you got home, the kids were tired and slightly sun-kissed. You gave them a quick bath—Leo splashing everywhere and Lina asking a million questions about bubbles and the ocean.

Seb handled story time, reading The Gruffalo in a silly voice while you sat behind him on the floor, brushing his still-damp hair back from his forehead.

Once the kids were asleep—Lina curled around her favorite lion plushie, Leo breathing softly in his crib—you and Seb stood at the doorway, watching them.

He reached for your hand, squeezing it.

“How did we get so lucky?” he whispered.

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “By choosing each other. Every day.”

---

The night wrapped around your home like a soft blanket. You and Seb sat on the porch, sharing a cup of tea, watching the stars blink into the sky.

“Remember when we used to chase the next race?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “Now we chase bees and fairy queens.”

“And it’s better,” he said. “So much better.”

You turned to him, brushing your fingers across his jaw. “I’ve never loved you more than I do now.”

He smiled, eyes shining with something deep and gentle. “Then let’s keep falling. Every day.”

---

And in that quiet slice of life—where the world slowed down and love filled every corner—you knew you had everything you’d ever need.

---

[1010jii]

will forever miss rb seb