A collection of One Shots involving our favourite German, Sebastian Vettel. Will include bonus chapters from all my existing Seb fanfics. Plus new original characters. Just for when I need a break from ongoing stories.
Mature themes. NSFW. If yo...
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December 2022
Sebastian Vettel tapped his fingers on the leather covered steering wheel of his Aston Martin Superleggera, muttering impatiently under his breath.
"Oh for pity's sake. Get a fucking move on will you?" He pressed down on the car horn, expressing his annoyance to the car in front that had failed to see the lights turn green.
Finally the car moved off and Seb accelerated forwards. The slow moving Ford Focus indicated to turn left. Seb put his foot down as he passed it. The elderly man in the driver seat gave Seb the middle finger as Seb soared past.
Luckily after getting past the Ford Focus the road was pretty clear as it was still only 7am.
Seb passed places that had become familiar to him over the last several months. The little pub where they'd often had dinner, before rushing back to her place to make love...well, fuck. Love had had nothing to do with it then. Love had never been part of the plan.
It had snuck up on him and he'd only just realised it and now he faced a race against time to tell her, before it was too late.
The phone call he'd received just after midnight had been a massive wake up call for him in more ways than one. Learning that she was leaving the country had made him finally admit his feelings to himself. Now he had to get to her place before she left for the airport. He had to tell her how much she meant to him and hope that she still felt the same way.
He'd turned her away when she'd told him she was falling for him. He'd watched her walk away, broken hearted. Now it was his heart that was on the verge of breaking. He'd been too proud and stubborn to realise what he'd had with her and now he was on the verge of losing it, losing her, forever.
He passed the town park where they'd once had a sneaky shag on the way back to hers from the pub back in the summer. Today it was covered by a layer of frost and didn't even resemble the place he remembered. Maybe he was remembering everything differently now?
What would he say to her? He didn't know. He just knew that he couldn't just let her walk out of his life as if they had never happened.
He passed the takeaway where he knew she'd get her favourite spicy meat feast pizza every Friday when she wasn't away at a race weekend. He put his foot down, knowing there were no speed cameras this end of the town. He knew there was a chance he'd pass a police car but it was a risk he was willing to take.
Reaching her estate he took the first left, then the first right, past the school, past another park. They'd shagged in that one too.
Finally he reached the turning for her road. He drove to the end of the Cul-de-Sac and his hopes were extinguished. Her teal coloured BMW wasn't on the drive. He was too late. She had gone. He brought the car to a stop. Perhaps she'd sold the car if she was going away? Perhaps it was in storage somewhere and she was going to take a taxi to the airport? Maybe she was still there.
He undid his seatbelt and jumped out of the car. He ran across her front lawn and began beating the door with his fist.
"Libby!" he yelled. "Libby, open the door. Please, we need to talk. Libby!" There was no answer. Maybe she was in the shower? he thought to himself, but he knew was just clutching at straws.
"You missed her mate," came the gruff voice of her neighbour, who was just getting into his battered old Volvo, a lunch box and coffee flask in his hand. "She drove off about forty minutes ago. Think she might be away for a while. She loaded two suitcases in the boot."
Seb grabbed a handful of his curls and cursed. He nodded at the neighbour and climbed back into his car, his spirit broken. He'd been too late. His Libby had gone. No, not his Libby. She'd never been his. She'd offered her heart to him and he'd crushed it. Now he was the one who was broken.
He felt the tears spilling out of his eyes. Why had he been such a fool? Why hadn't he seen her for the amazing woman she truly was? Why had he been so hung up on what had happened in the past? Libby wasn't Carmen. She never had been. She was warm, loving, sexy and loyal.
He picked his phone up from on the dashboard and desperately dialled her number like he had dozens of times since leaving his Swiss home in the early hours to fly to the U.K. And like all the other times, he was diverted straight to voicemail.
"Hi, this is Libby. I can't come to the phone right now. Or I don't want to. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you. Or will I? Seriously, I'll get back to you." The message ended with her sexy little laugh that he'd grown to know so well.
This time, for the first time, he didn't hang up after listening to her message.
"Libby, baby, please don't do this. Don't go. I need to talk to you. There's something I need to say. Please, I'm begging you. I'm so sorry for everything. Just hear me out. Call me as soon as you get this. Please baby."
He put the phone down and his sobs took control of him. Where was she even going? All he knew was what he'd been told in the phone call. That Libby was leaving town, leaving the country in fact, and wasn't planning on coming back. That she'd handed her notice in to Mike.
How would he be able to walk into the paddock every race weekend knowing she was no longer there? How could he cope without being able to kiss her, and touch her, and possess her?
He needed her as much as he needed the air he was breathing. He rested his head on the steering wheel, feeling totally defeated. It was over.
As he shut his eyes he was bombarded by memories. Memories of them, him and Libby. Kissing her at sunset in Miami. Having sex behind a stand on a midnight walk around the track at Monza. Movie nights at hers where they'd just cuddle on the sofa, eating a sneaky Chinese that he really shouldn't have been eating, and just enjoying each other's company. There was more to them than just sex, he'd just never seen it at the time.
He hadn't just lost the woman he loved. He'd lost his best friend. She'd gone and he didn't know if he'd ever see her again.
He wished he could turn back the hands of time to the day he'd first met her. He'd take her out, wine and dine her, make her feel special. He'd have made sure she knew that she was more than just a quick shag to him.
When she'd told him she was falling for him he'd have kissed her and told her that he'd already fallen.
Then now he'd have been curled up in bed with her, their naked bodies entwined. Instead he was sat in his car, parked outside her empty house on a cold, frosty morning, sobbing his heart out for the woman he'd loved and lost.
