#george russell angst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsvelyria · 4 months

Text

"as sad taylor swift songs"

vvv vague references to depression for danny

(not really a representation of the songs as a whole but rather how i interpret each phrase i cherry picked)

Charles Leclerc

and say the one thing, i've been wanting, but no~ 🩵

your phone lights up the dark of your room, you should be asleep at this time of the night. there hadn't been any new messages since Tuesday but here you sat, scrolling aimlessly on social media, waiting by the chat like you were 13 again with your first crush. the squeal of glee and the uncontrollable smile on your face when they would text back — that's how he made you feel. and though the little voice in your head is telling you that everything was wrong, there was no way you would debase your feelings to refute the way your brain was wired to think of him at all times. but as you were flicking through gossip sites, the back of a head that haunted your dreams and nightmares was staring right back at, pressed up against a shorter brunette one — maybe it was time to listen to your brain and not your heart.

Carlos Sainz

tryna find a part of me that you didn't touch~ 🩷

every inch of your skin was on fire, like it was rejecting the touch of the man above you. if you squinted enough, blocked out the light from the living room behind his broad shoulders, you could have mistaken him for a certain Spaniard. except the Spaniard wouldn't have chosen to lay his focus on your neck like this guy you picked up at the club. you couldn't, for the life of your alcohol-riddled brain, recall his name. but you could remember the ghost of a touch down between the valleys of your breasts and that was enough to pry a spine-shivering moan out your throat. maybe if you pretended enough and swallowed the hot tears back, you could pretend he was the person you wanted instead.

Danny Ricciardo

she would have made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head~ 🧡

he knew it when your frame had started curled in on itself under the covers. how you brushed past the stereo you loved to fiddle with on Saturday mornings. how you told him that you'd rather stay home on days you had plans. he felt this clawing in his insides whenever you barely spared him a glance, like he was the extra on a film set who was just waiting around for something to happen. so he did what he did best. he'd called up your mom to ask for her recipes to cook for nights you were too tired to move and offered to dry your hair whenever you wandered around wet hair. when you were fast asleep, cuddled up in his arms, he hoped you could hear when he told you how much he loved you and how he'd always be here.

George Russell

will you still want me, when i'm nothing new~ ❤️

even with your eyes closed on the red-eye flight, you could picture your colour-coded and meticulously organised calendar in your head. that and the thousands of messages from your mother, disappointment reeking from them at your missing of your nephew's baby shower. he was 1, he'd get over it. amongst the messages was two calls to your boyfriend, both left unanswered. the silence feeling like a prelude to something inevitable. images of him laughing with a colleague, your calls ignored, flashed in your mind. the little seed of self-doubt had planted itself a long time ago and bloomed into a voice in your head, relentlessly questioning your every move, every word. you hated it, but when the fire you started grows uncontrollably and you can't stop it, what could you do but let it consume you whole?

Lando Norris

no one could touch the way we laughed in the dark~ 💛

it was like a bad smell you couldn't ignore, the second you stepped onto the hiking path. you refused to come but was convinced otherwise by your group of friends. and with each crunch of the wet leaves under your boot or the distant sound of rushing water, you saw faint wisps of smoke in the shape of someone drawn from your ancient memories, holding your hand and leading you up the slope. hallucinations of a familiar laugh clouded your mind with the hike passing like a daze. the waterfall was still as beautiful as you remembered with the tree where he had secretly carved both your initials just a few steps away. your boyfriend pulled you closer, breaking your trance. his grin radiating at you, you felt the old memories slip away back into the shadows, cupping the chin of your new love.

Lewis Hamilton

you gave me all your love and all i gave you was goodbye~ 💜

sometimes when he glanced at old pictures, the indifference in his chest made him feel like he had moved on. and it should. with every second that slipped out of his grasp, the pain in his heart had dulled and he was busy enough without having to schedule mourning into his calendar. but the glare of his phone burned the picture into his retinas while he was waiting for his next race to begin, he missed the pang in his chest when you first ended the relationship. it was almost like he was losing every shred of you and the ugly feeling in his head raged on. and the next moment, he would turn the phone off, throwing it across his room to bury his head in his palms, the anger redirecting on the pathetic little boy inside him. he should have moved on by now, he knows he should have, but as he glanced at all the faces in the stands, part of him wishes one of them was you.

Max Verstappen

then you won't have to cry, or hide in the closet~ 🩶

you can see it in the darkening of his eyes when he answered his calls. or how his lips pulled taunt after a bad race. he had mentioned some things in passing: details of his childhood glossed over like it was nothing more than a dusty spine of a long-forgotten book. coupled with stories from his family, you had pieced together enough of the puzzle he kept his past. and that tugging in your heart wasn't pity; you could never pity him. but you weren't sure what it was either. and so you kept it quiet, tucking it away in a box, focused on the one thing that did matter — his present. maybe one day, you'll take the box out and rifle through its contents with your lover, but for now, just seeing him hold that trophy was more than enough.

220 notes · View notes

lxclerc · 1 year

Note

Instagram AU with George Russell where you announce your relationship to the public

pairing: george russell x reader rated: fluff

INSTAGRAM AU

Liked by lewishamilton, charlottesine and others

yourusername he likes fast cars and i like him. win win

View all 4,372 comments

user1 i feel like i'm being edged every time she post a photo of them together

user2 carlos sainz?

user3 bro carlos is not that pale

user4 not to mention that carlos is very much in a relationship and is literally her friend 😭

user5 you want to tell us who he is soooo bad

isahernaez that doesn't seem very safe

yourusername shush

isahernaez 🙄🙄

lewishamilton ❤️❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️

user6 is iT LEWIS?

user7 does that look like fucking lewis to you?

georgerussell63 where are you going?

yourusername i don't know. wanna come?

user8 it's george. i'm fucking calling it. it has to be george

Liked by yourusername, isahernaez and others

georgerussell63 summer break well spent

View all 7,739 comments

danielricciardo russell george, you have been a busy bee

georgerussell63 😉😉

user1 y/n liked...

user2 it has to be y/n. it just HAS to be

lewishamilton ❤️

georgerussell63 ❤️

user3 lewis is like that supportive facebook aunt who comments on all of your posts

carlossainz55 oi there are children here

georgerussell63 🤣🤣

user4 george russell might just be the driest replier on earth

yourusername looks relaxing

georgerussell63 it really was

user5 theyre fucking with us

alex_albon georgeeeeeeeeeee

georgerussell63 albonoooo

user6 @yourusername we know it's you

yourusername 🤫🤫🤫

Liked by charles_leclerc, charlottesine and others

yourusername more topless pic of my boyfriend to add to the growing collection

View all 4,528 comments

georgerussell63 it's not that many

yourusername it's definitely that many

user1 is this the confirmation

user2 it's as good as we're going to get i think 😭

charles_leclerc where's that account that edits shirts when you need it? 🤣🤣

alex_albon i believe the account you're looking for is @georgerussellshirt 🤣🤣

georgerussell63 real funny 🖕🏻

user3 someone needs to take emojis away from these men

landonorris think of my virgin eyes, y/n

yourusername sorry i forgot you were still a minor

user4 i mean... it is a pretty great body ❤️ Liked by yourusername

user5 not the twitch quartet getting back together to bully george

Liked by isahernaez, yourusername and others

georgerussell63 morning views

View all 8,728 comments

user1 topless boyfriend 🤝 bottomless girlfriend

user2 wish i was heather

isahernaez tell her to give my shirt back

yourusername no

landonorris what is it with you two posting half naked pictures of each other?

yourusername it's because we're pretty people and it needs to be shared ❤️ Liked by georgerussell63

landonorris 🙄🙄

user3 they're right, lando

user4 god i hate happy couples

Liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1 and others

yourusername part time girlfriend, full time photographer (does this count as a relationship announcement?)

View all 5,262 comments

mercedesamgf1 thank you for your service, y/n

yourusername where should i send in my resume?

user1 YES

user2 new wag in the house 🥳

danielricciardo everyone knew it was george

yourusername don't ruin my vibe

danielricciardo you need to announce relationships?

yourusername i wanted the clout

danielricciardo brb about to announce a relationship

lewishamilton all the best to the two of you, cheers! ❤️

yourusername thank you, uncle lewis ❤️

user3 finally a picture with his face on it 😭

isahernaez you're out of his league

georgerussell63 you introduced us?

yourusername i'm doing charity 🤫

georgerussell63 😧

yourusername just joking, i love you baby

user4 i mean...is isa wrong?

georgerussell63 my girl ❤️ ❤️ Liked by yourusername

2K notes · View notes

jamminvroomvroom · 1 year

Text

both of you. part 7.

gr x fem!reader

find parts 1-6 on my masterlist!

it’s been 84 years. BUT the final part is here! a few people asked me to take it in this kind of direction so i hope you like it! i haven’t written some of these themes before so maybe don’t look into the realism of the situation too much lmao. ALSO huge thank you for 2k, so thankful that you read my silly little stories xoxoxo

in which you look back on how your lives changed.

warnings: 18+!! mature themes, mentions of sex/sexual acts, language, mentions of pregnancy, children? sickening fluff

5.5k words

three years later…

bahrain, march 2025. saturday.

the production lights went on in the media pen, snapping you back to reality. you glanced down at your notebook, eyes flicking quickly through your qualifying notes and questions. you took notice of the way the diamond on your left hand glimmered under the bright light, shimmering elegantly from its rightful place on your finger. you smiled. the sight dulled your nerves ever so slightly, a reminder that soon george would walk in and you’d be able to breath.

you were undeniably anxious, feeling out of practice. it had almost been a year since your last time on the broadcast, and as much as you’d missed your work, being back from your leave had left you scattered. the bahrain grand prix was always hectic, the first race of the season making everyone antsy, and your circumstances only intensified that.

you could see drivers starting to appear, taking a shaky breath. you tried to settle; you knew these people, you knew this sport, and most importantly, you knew how to do your job. keeping one eye on the drivers approaching and one eye out for george was a lot easier than it used to be; you’d had to learn how to have eyes in the back of your head over the last several months.

your relationship with george had only gone from strength to strength. he had just won his first championship, starting the 2025 season off on a high, a winning streak, ready for the year ahead and hopefully a second title. you were coming up on three years together, the ring on your finger sealing the deal. you were happy, happier than you ever thought you could be, than you ever thought you deserved to be, and you had him to thank for that. you had him to thank for something else too.

you could spot george from a mile away, strutting into the media pen like he owned it. you grinned like a fool, shaking your head in disbelief when you saw who he’d brought with him.

balanced on his hip was your daughter, who was supposed to be down for a nap.

“george william russell, what on earth do you think you’re doing?” you scalded, teasingly.

“wanted to show my girl where mummy works. can’t exactly take her for a spin around the track yet.” he replied. you rolled your eyes. “so, go on, show her how to be a… what do you call it? girlboss?”

you laughed, cheeks flushed. he was such a dad, the role truly suited him perfectly. you wanted nothing more than to reach out for your little girl but george was your last driver of the session and as soon as this was done, you’d be able to have her in your arms. plus, the view you had, the two people you loved most in the world, wasn’t so bad.

“right, well, that was a very interesting session, george. congratulations on the pole.” you winked slyly. “do you think you’re going to be able to carry this momentum through the season and go for that second title?“ and just like that, you put your reporter voice back on, getting straight to the point.

you managed to get through the interview with ease, watching the way your daughters blue eyes lit up as she watched george speak, and then at the sight of uncle lando and uncle charles. at one point, george passed her wordlessly to charles, who’d stopped looking so scared of babies sometime in the last few years, and carried on answering your questions, just so they’d stop pestering him. you tried to stifle your laughter as you watched lando steal her away, the brit and the monegasque squabbling over who got cuddles.

you wrapped up the interview eventually, turning to talk to your producer, while george went to speak to the drivers, who were now crowding around your baby. after exchanging a few notes, you were free to go, sliding an arm around george’s waist when you reached him. he looked down at you, dipping down to press a quick kiss to your lips. it never used to be like this, you were never this open before, but the championship had changed him, loosened him up. he wasn’t so pressed about how people perceived him anymore, and you found his self liberation incredibly sexy.

“if you lot are going to keep fighting for my daughters attention, you can keep an eye on her tonight so i can have some time with my beautiful fiancé.” george joked, earning himself some laughs and the odd wolf whistle. you slapped him on the chest playfully.

“behave yourself, russell, or you won’t be getting any attention from me.” you warned, making the drivers laugh again.

“i think it’s you that deserves a bit of attention, darling.” george said, only to you this time, lips brushing against your ear as he whispered the taunting words. you couldn’t help the way your body reacted, he hadn’t been able to touch you properly in months.

the combination of a baby, a championship that needed winning and then the pre-season had really killed your sex life. that’s why the suggestion of attention, of his hands on your body working his magic, had your thighs clenching under your dress, your fingers digging into his side.

just as your mind started to get carried away, your daughter let out a whine, signifying that someone should have let her have her damn nap. she was grumpy. lando, who’d managed to finally pry her out of charles arms, looked slightly afraid, looking at you with wide eyes as the unimpressed little girl wriggled angrily in his arms.

“it’s okay, lando, give her to me.” you pulled away from george and his dirty mouth, shooting him a sympathetic look as you scooped your daughter out of lando’s arms and walked away from the drivers, throwing a goodbye over your shoulder.

if there was one thing you knew about your daughter, she was stubborn just like her father. she knew just what she wanted, and exactly when she wanted it, just like her father. and she needed as much sleep as possible, just like you did.

at the tender age of eight months old, sylvie russell was already a force to be reckoned with.

brazil, november 2023.

you were in brazil when you found out. it almost seemed poetic. it was where george had won his first race, and now it held sentimentality for your first child.

he was sat on the hotel bed, watching calmly as you paced like a mad woman. you couldn’t believe this was happening, always so careful. it wasn’t like you and george had never had the conversation about The Future, you’d just never anticipated that it would come up so quickly. the timing was all wrong, george coming to the end of an intense season and you were trying harder than ever to prove that fucking drivers wasn’t the reason for your pay check after last seasons indiscretions.

you’d left the pregnancy test in the bathroom sink, a timer set on george’s phone. he let you pace, understanding your process perfectly. the irritating apple alarm went off, grating on your last nerve, and you whipped around to face george. he silenced his phone, standing from the bed.

“it’s time, darling.”

“i can’t- i can’t do it. please, just, god,” you took a deep breath. “can you check it?”

george nodded softly, disappearing into the en-suite. you pulled at your sleeves, wrapping your arms around yourself. you didn’t get it, how he could be so calm in the face of what was potentially the biggest moment of your lives, but that was classic george. he always coped under pressure. the sound of his footsteps warned you of his return, and you braved it, turning to face him.

“is it-? are we-?” you couldn’t say the words, not yet.

“sweetheart…” the tone of his voice said it all.

“george, i can’t.” tears pooled in your eyes, sliding down your face in tidal waves.

“listen to me, come here,” he walked towards you, running his hands up your arms. he bowed his head slightly, eyes fixed on yours. he looked… you didn’t know how to describe it but he looked right. “darling, you’re pregnant.” and then he was crying too, choked up at his own admission.

you may have been genuinely terrified, horrified even, at the news, but something about the way he fell apart made it all make sense. before you stood a man that wanted you, wanted a life with you, that you wanted for the rest of your life. he was smiling at you, despite your state of shock, blue eyes framed red. he looked dazed, genuinely happy.

his reaction made the ground shift beneath your feet. you were having a baby.

“oh my god. oh my god.” you were still in shock, and still arguably mortified, but it no longer felt like the worst thing in the world. it was crazy, the way he made you feel so okay. you looked up at him, catching the way he was staring, still trying to process it himself.

“george… are we doing this?”

“do you want this?” he asked, sincerely. did you? did you want this?*

“yes.” the word was instinctual, coming out of nowhere. a strange sense of calm washed over you, a newfound feeling taking the reigns in your emotionally heightened state. he didn’t waste another second, hands on your cheeks as he kissed you.

“we’re having a baby.” he murmured as he pulled away, lips brushing over yours. a smile blossomed on your face, slowly spreading. you were still terrified, but it just felt right.

“i love you, george.”

“i love you. both of you.” he whispered the last part, and you were sobbing all over again.

silverstone, july 2024. sunday.

it was your first time back at a race track in months, and it was glorious. you’d missed it immensely, bored at home since you’d been banished to maternity leave. george was away a lot, chasing after what you were certain would be his first title, and you weren’t allowed to fly anymore, so you mostly saw him through a screen. it wasn’t all bad; every spare second was spent at home with you, weeks off being used to pick out baby clothes and build furniture for the nursery.

his desire to be involved was endearing, especially when he could have easily paid someone to build the crib that kept him up half the night in a frustrated heap on the floor. all you could do was laugh and admire the way he was already tackling the fatherly duties.

despite how much you’d grown to enjoy preparing for your baby, now that the first few gruelling months were out of the way, being back at silverstone was like a cold beer on a hot day. should you have been there, nine months pregnant, with your due date rapidly approaching? probably not, but your boyfriend was having a killer season and this would probably be the only race you’d see for the rest of the year. george was hesitant, wondering if a racetrack was the right environment for you to be in, but there was no way you were missing it, a point you’d stubbornly argued until he finally gave in.

silverstone was too special to miss. it was where george had asked you on your first date, where you realised that you saw something with him. you also knew you’d be fuming if you missed him winning the british grand prix, and he looked set to do it, the odds very much in his favour.

you were enjoying the weekend, as much as you could in the hot british summer. you waddled into the paddock with george, hand in hand, just as you usually did, gaining far more attention than usual in your predicament. your pregnancy had made george more protective, far more aware of all the people around you, and that’s why he made sure that you were comfortable with anyone approaching him to talk, or to sign something.

you managed to get through the sea of people, the crowd always that much bigger at his home race, and you escaped into the mercedes suite. you sighed in contentment at the blissful air conditioning hitting your flushed skin, while george pulled out a chair for you to collapse into, and by collapse, you meant he lowered you slowly and carefully into the seat. he leaned down to kiss you on the lips, and then on the forehead, caressing your belly and bidding you goodbye so that he could go and change. he would be busy now, leaving you to your own devices.

after all, race day at silverstone was always chaos.

you spent the afternoon with george’s parents, no energy to go and venture out into the paddock. you were starting to get tired and the race hadn’t even started, but you were determined to watch george win. it was rare that you got to just sit back and watch a race solely for your own enjoyment, especially at the track, so you wanted to make the most of it. you watched him whizzing around the hospitality, talking to his team, your hand rubbing your stomach absentmindedly. watching the way he moved, ever so focused, made you wonder what your child would be like.

would they be a driver like george? stubborn like you? have his mousey hair and his blue eyes? your quick wit? his strength? the passion that you both shared? your baby was well on their way, that day getting closer and closer, and you were so overwhelmed with excitement, a joy that cast a shadow on all of the fear and doubt you’d felt in the beginning.

george came back over to you before he was due to get in the car, just like he always did. since the first time he told you he loved you, he couldn’t get in the car without saying it. it was the last thing he always did, without fail. even on the rare occasions that you fought, even if you weren’t on the same continent, he always, always found a way to tell you.

“we’re rooting for you, honey. we love you.” you told george, placing your interlocked fingers on your bump. “go and get this menace a trophy.” you teased. he laughed, kissing you and then he was gone, making his way to the grid.

you watched the screen, eyes fixed on his mercedes and the time sheets. he was practically untouchable, on course for yet another win. the anticipation, the pride you felt made you teary, desperate to see him win before you had to completely sign off for the rest of the season. it felt like your last weekend of freedom.

the team were controlling his strategy well, you thought, as you watched him pit. the race was halfway done already and you were already planning all the different ways you could celebrate the win.

that’s when you felt it.

it appeared that a trophy wouldn’t be the only brand new thing that george was taking home this weekend.

“oh, fuck.” you whispered.

babies sure knew how to pick their moments.

“i need to tell him.”

“no, toto, you most certainly do not. i came here to watch him win this fucking race.” you snarled, breathing laboured, getting faster by the second.

you were in george’s drivers room hunched over his massage table waiting for a car to come and take you to the track medical centre, and toto wolff was pissing you off.

“if he misses the birth of his child-“

“he will not miss the birth of his child!” you rolled your eyes, teeth clenched. you’d have to send toto a muffin basket or something, because never had you dared speak to him like this. you wondered if anyone had.

“but you’re in labour and it’s not going to be long before-“

“if you tell him, so help me god.” you glared, exhaling hard though clenched teeth. “he has time.”

toto sighed, nodding in defeat. don’t fuck with pregnant people.

george’s mum, alison, was rubbing your back comfortingly, trying to soothe you in any way possible. they were all trying to get george out of the car, but that was the last thing you wanted. what would be a better way for him to wrap up the weekend, than with a baby and a win at home?

once the car arrived, you were escorted out and carted away to the medical centre. the last place you’d envisioned going into labour was a race track, but you supposed it was quite fitting. apparently they were ready for you, the on-site medics welcoming you in for an examination.

“how long do i have before i need to go to the hospital?” you asked, eyes squeezed shut as another contraction washed over you.

“hospital? oh honey, i’m afraid we’re past that.” one of the doctors told you. she was an older woman, decked out in the classic green kit they wore, eyes kind.

“i’m sorry, what?” your mouth hung open in horror.

“don’t worry, you’re in safe hands. but this baby isn’t waiting for a hospital.”

winning your home grand prix was rare.

winning your home grand prix, getting out the car and being greeted by a frantic team of mechanics and toto wolff telling you that your girlfriend was in labour was even rarer.

george was sweating, grinning from ear to ear when he got out of the car, desperate to see you, to tell you that he’d done it for you. he just didn’t realise that when he saw you, you’d be trying to push out a human.

toto had dragged him away from the team celebrating in parc ferme, grabbed him by the shoulders, and that’s when he knew something was up. george practically went numb as toto explained what had happened.

“she threatened to do unspeakable things to me if we told you.” toto told him.

“of course she did.” george manage to choke out a laugh in his state of shock, which toto quickly pulled him out of.

“go, now. i don’t think you’ve got long left. congratulations.” toto shook his hand, pulling him into a hug. george hadn’t realised until then that he was shaking. he didn’t realise until he was sprinting across parc ferme that he was crying, either.

martin brundle was stood under the podium, interviewing the top three when george went bounding by.

“no word from the winner?” martin called, despite being midway through a conversation with lando. george stopped, bending down to reach lando’s microphone.

“can’t stop to chat, i’m having a baby.” he barely registered the cheer of the crowd, lando’s slap on the back, or how wrecked with emotion he sounded. all he could do was continue on his course, legging it to the medical centre.

of course his kid was going to be born at silverstone. of course.

what it was to love took on a whole new meaning for you that afternoon at silverstone.

you were propped up on the bed, gazing lazily at your boyfriend and the little girl in his arms. his race suit hung around his waist, fireproofs discarded, as he held her close to his chest. your heart felt so heavy, incredibly full in a way it never had been before. she was here, held delicately in the arms of the man you loved; your little family.

george caught you staring, smiling at you. you didn’t think he’d stopped tearing up since he’d come flying through the door after the race, just in time for the birth of his daughter.

“thank you.” he said, eyes lowering back down to the sleeping baby. he couldn’t help it, unable to take his eyes off of her. he could hardly believe she was real.

“it was my pleasure.” you laughed softly, voice tired. you relaxed further into the bed, wincing at the full body ache that you’d managed to ignore since they placed your girl on your chest for the first time.

“i mean it. you’re incredible.” he murmured, reddened eyes still trained on her. your eyes were drooping, the sight before you the only thing keeping you awake. you wanted to look at them forever and your chest flooded with warmth every time you realised that you’d get to.

“almost forgot to congratulate you on your win.” you spoke, making george laugh. “what’s funny?”

“you just gave me the world and you’re still thinking about my career.” he placed the baby into the bassinet by your bed, walking around the bed, perching himself carefully on the edge as to not disturb you. “i love you and i’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” you couldn’t contain your smile, leaning into his palm as he caressed your cheek.

“proud of you too. i was really enjoying the race until, well, you know.” you gestured to the baby, making him laugh again.

he kissed you, pressing his lips against yours softly. it was slow, an exchanging of love, comfort, pride. you pulled away, pushing his messy hair back, just letting yourself look at him for a second. you knew she’d have his eyes.

“what are we gonna call her? i know we had a few idea but nothing feels right.” george broke the silence. he was right. you hummed in agreement.

“she needs a cool name, something to mark the occasion. it’s not everyday that your kid is born at the silverstone.” you spoke excitedly. george squeezed your hand.

“okay, i think i have an idea.” george said slowly.

“tell me!” you beamed.

“don’t laugh. or cringe or whatever.”

“oh come on, i don’t even have the energy to cringe. plus, i’ve gone immune to your cringy-ness by now, anyway.” you teased. all you received in return was a playful glare.

“okay, so, how about… how about sylvie?” he said softly. a smile spread slowly across you face. you gazed at the bassinet, at your baby’s angelic face as she slept.

“sylvie… like silverstone.” you tried out the name, assessing how it felt rolling off your tongue. it fit, it was perfect.

“yes, sylvie like silverstone.” george rolled his eyes and you both laughed.

“will you pass her to me, please?” you asked, and he did as you pleased, placing her gently in your arms.

your skin prickled with joy all over again, your heart rate speeding up.

“sylvie russell. yeah.” you nodded, tears filling your tired eyes once more.

“sylvie russell.” george repeated, his hand squeezing your shoulder.

you somehow managed to take your eyes off of her, just for a second, to glance up at him. he was looking at her, then at you, then her, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes, and you fell in love with him all over again.

home, august 2024.

george had finished the first half of the season, leaving belgium the second he’d stepped off of the podium to come home to you. usually, you enjoyed a much needed vacation over the summer break, but this year, all george wanted was to be at home with his little family.

sylvie was over a month old, and already the apple of george’s eye. you knew he felt guilty for being away during her first weeks but you reassured him that you understood. this was the life the came with being with him, and you wouldn’t have traded it for the world. he also felt guilty that you were dealing with a newborn almost by yourself, but to you, it was worth it. being a mother was never really on your radar, something that you’d only considered for the first time when things got serious with george, and even then, it seemed a million years into the future.

enter: sylvie.

she’d completely changed your life, all for the better. sure, you were sleep deprived, but every time she grabbed your finger, all was forgiven. you’d bonded with her better than you’d expected and so had george, not that you’d had any doubts. he was perfect with her, and she always fell asleep the quickest in his arms.

you and george had moved out of london when you found out you were pregnant, into a gorgeous country house. you were thankful for the move every day, especially now that it was summer and you got to put your garden to use.

laid out in the freshly cut grass was a blanket, topped with fresh fruits, snacks and juice. you laid on one side, book in hand, while george occupied the opposite side, sylvie on his chest. they were covered by an umbrella, while you chose to sunbathe, the august heat treating you well.

george was humming the tune to some generic nursery rhyme that seemed to always be playing in the background these days, popping strawberries in his mouth. you looked up every now and then, the sight of george and sylvie, so peaceful amongst the backdrop of radiant wildflowers that you were growing, leaving you with a content smile.

“like the view?” george asked, catching you out.

“absolutely love it.” you mused.

“did you ever think we’d make it to this?” george asked, one arm going behind his head to support himself, the other delicately clutching your daughter.

“what do you mean?” you asked, confused as to where this was coming from.

“did you think, after those first few years of knowing each other, all of that animosity, that we’d be sat here in our garden with a baby?” he repeated.

“honestly? no. but that’s what’s so perfect about it. you changed my life in the best way and i never for a second saw it coming.” you spoke sincerely.

he sat up, carefully placing a sleeping sylvie in her bassinet and making sure she was shielded from the sun, before turning back to you, making his way over the blanket to your side.

“you’ve changed my life too, darling. i don’t know what i’d be without you.”

you opened your mouth to reply, to tell him that he’s still be just as wonderful, but he cut you off, laying beside you, propped up on his elbow. he took one of your hands, in his, squeezing gently.

“you’ve given me everything that i could ever want: a partner, a family, a home. you keep me grounded, you have done ever since the first time i laid eyes on you and you knocked me straight back down to earth. you don’t know how thankful i am for that first night in monaco, because watching you walk away made it crystal clear just how important you were to me. silverstone, when you found me after the dnf, and the compassion you showed me, you managed to light up one of the darkest moments.”

your eyes were shiny. he paused for a second to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“you’ve given me everything i could ever need, the entire world, darling. i am so grateful that my daughter has you for a mother, and i would be honoured if i got to call you my wife.”

he whispered your name, reaching into the picnic basket that, now that you thought about it, he’d conveniently packed himself, and shifted himself upwards, onto one knee. a velvet box rested in the palm of his hand, before he was presenting you with the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. square, vintage, exactly what you’d dreamed of.

“will you marry me?”

there was only one possible answer.

you threw yourself at him, eyes bleary, your entire face soaked with tears. he fell backwards into the grass, holding you against his chest while you kissed him. he really knew how to make a speech. you broke away, peppering kisses against his cheek and his jaw.

you held yourself up, staring down at him, one of his hands caressing your cheek, the biggest of grins on both of your faces as he wiped the few stray tears that continued to fall. he looked stunning, sun kissed and chiselled in the vibrant grass, the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.

“it’s a yes, by the way, just in case you didn’t get that.” you giggled, falling beside him, tucked under his arm. you looked up at him, running a hand through his hair, leaning in for another kiss.

“you’re everything to me.” he mumbled against your lips, before he pressed his against yours once more, slow and needy, all the love in the world.

sylvie was obviously feeling left out, stirring in her bassinet. george pulled away, pecking your lips one last time, reaching over for her. he gently placed her on the soft blanket between your bodies, resting on his elbow to watch over you both.

you looked at sylvie, then george, and finally the huge fucking rock on your finger and wondered how on earth you’d ever gotten so lucky.

the realisation that orgasm denial on a yacht in monaco had given you a beautiful family was enough to have you and george laughing.

your poor daughter.

bahrain, 2025. sunday.

george was leading the race. typical.

“daddy’s such a show off.” you whispered to sylvie, whose crystal blue eyes were fixed on the screen ahead of you. she looked adorable, her mousey hair tousled by the huge noise protectors that seemed to engulf her entire head.

it was her first time being present at a race, a truly special occasion for you and george. your lives were so intertwined with racing, and a race track was where you fell in love; it meant a lot to the both of you to have her here, for her to grow up around the sport that had changed your lives.

you were shocked at her attention to the race, she’d spent the remainder of last season, when george had gone back to work, pulling your hair every time a race was on the tv. you had a sneaky feeling she’d end up just like george, which left your motherly nerves shot to pieces.

george won, just as you told him he would, and you bounced sylvie on your hip, a mini celebration. you took her out of the garage and into parc ferme to greet him with the rest of the team behind the barriers. you got there in time to see him stood at the helm of his car, hands thrown in the air in pure elation.

“look, baby. look at daddy.” you pointed at george, cooing in sylvie’s ear. she seemed to follow your finger, finding her father, up high above the rest.

the laugh she let out, pure, unfiltered joy, made your heart grow, your whole body warm at the gleeful noise. you loved her laugh, just like you loved george’s, her developing personality demonstrating that she was already a mini george. you weren’t mad about it.

the race winner was bounding towards you, the adrenaline coursing through his veins clear as day. when he reached the barrier, he scooped sylvie out of your arms, leaning over the metal to kiss you hard. you blushed, your face hot at the pda but you weren’t going to stop him. when you pulled apart, he kissed sylvie on the forehead, her chubby hands gripping hard at his race suit. she had been infatuated with it all weekend, grabbing at all the different sponsors with thoughtless intrigue that made you smile.

“so proud of you, honey.” you spoke, voice loud amongst the rowdy team, excited at their first victory of the season. “i think our kid is already an f1 fan.” you laughed.

“she’ll be up there one day.” george replied, point up at the top step of the podium behind him. you shook your head in playful annoyance. as if you’d let your little girl loose on a racetrack.

“i love you george.” he’d have to move on soon, and you’d have to make a quick getaway to the media pen, while sylvie would be going back to her grandparents.

“i love you, sweetheart.” and with that, he stole your daughter, a sense of deja vu hitting you as he walked over to his winners interview with her in his arms.

he didn’t care at all about what was allowed and what was proper, he just wanted his little girl with him. the way he wanted to show her off constantly made you weak. he was such a girl dad.

george’s voice rang through parc ferme, and then that precious laugh did as well, when sylvie hijacked the mic. you smiled incredulously.

you knew it, the first night you shared, your first date, that nightmare weekend in spa. you knew it when he whisked you away to paris, when he told you that he loved you too. you knew it then and you knew it now, as you watched him let your daughter make incoherent baby noises into a microphone on live tv.

george russell would always be the one for you.

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@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @micks-afterglow @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @h0e-xoxo @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3

i’ve removed any tags that weren’t working. let me know if you wanna be added or removed <3

#george russell #george russell fic #george russell x reader #george russell smut #george russell fluff #george russell angst #george russell x you #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 driver x you #f1 driver x reader #george russell imagine #f1 fics #george russell fics

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charlewiss-writes · 1 year

Text

treat you better / george russell

masterlist

day 12: special (part of one-word november prompts!)

word count: 0.7k

pairing: george russell x reader

summary: he's been dying to show you how special you could feel with him by your side. if only you would stop dating idiots that waste your time, he thought.

warnings: not proofread!

author's note: tried to write this as quickly as possible to post before the day ended. i still like it!!! hope you like it too<333 don't forget to leave a comment!

"remind me again, why are you crying for that bastard?"

you were weeping against his chest, while he gently caressed your hair trying to soothe the heartache. you and your boyfriend had broken up for the hundredth time. or at least that's how george saw it.

"he's my boyfriend, george" you managed to say through the softs sobs that were still scaping your mouth. he furrowed his brows, making a confused face that you couldn't see, due to you being pressed against his torso. "didn't you just tell me you broke up?"

"yeah, but I still love him"

'but how could you? after everything he did" he took your silence as a cue to keep asking, but now with a more soft tone. "why would you?"

after his sudden comment, you separated from him, now feeling weirded out by his -apparently unreasoned- outburst. "i don't know, george. all that bullshit of 'the heart wants what it wants' i guess". he huffed, clearly not satisfied with the answer he got, and instead got up from the couch to get some water. on his way, though, you saw how hard he was clenching his fist, making they seem almost white. after drinking a bit, he answered.

"that's bullshit".

"how are you so sure?"

now seated again beside you, he replied, trying to catch your eyes that where looking directly at your hands. "I know your heart. it's not that dumb."

you finally complied, looking directly at his blue eyes. "where are you going with this?". he got closer and offered the glass of water where he had been drinking from. "you know where".

"actually, I don't" with a ironic smile, you said. "please enlighten me, russell."

"i could treat you so much better".

letting the glass on the coffee table in front of the sofa where you two were currently in, you tried to avoid his gaze. "we're not having this conversation again".

"cause you know I'm right".

frustrated, you almost yelled at him, regretting it almost instantly. "cause you know why you aren't!". he wasn't actually trying to make you mad, so instead he tried to crack a joke that would ease the quickly growing tension that floated in the air. "I could do an entire powerpoint presentation on why we could work out" after not receiving an answer, he continued. "i would drop everything for you".

"and that's exactly why we won't work out" you said sincerely. the british driver had confessed one time, while drunk, that he would quit everything if that meant even the smallest possibility of you two getting together. you knew that he was only joking, he wouldn't actually do it, but even the smallest chance lf it actually happening scared you. how could you ask so much of him? being part of the f1 grid was always his dream, even since you started to know him back when he was in his karting days. you could never even think about him leaving everything for you. even if it was a joke. "i don't need you to".

"you know what I meant. I'll do anything you ask me".

after being seated face to face, too far away to actually touch eachother, you got a bit closer so you could rest your head against his shoulder. "can you just hold me tonight? we'll figure it out tomorrow, george". he hummed, appreciating the new point of contact, and closed his eyes.

now with his arm engulfing you in a hug and your head too close to his neck, where you could smell his perfume. you could feel the vibrations in his throat when he started talking again. "yeah yeah, i'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought this out to you today. it's just that, I know you deserve to be treated better, cause you're special, y/n. and I would try every day to be worthy of you, of your love". you two didn't say anything else for a while, leaving you to enjoy the contact between your bodies and think about what he had said. after all this time, you still couldn't understand why he kept putting up with you. so you asked. "why are you so good to me?".

"that's what friends are for, right?"

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charlewiss writing challenge #one word november prompts #user charlewiss #f1 x y/n #f1 x yn #formula 1 imagine #george russell x you #george russell x y/n #george russell x reader #george russell angst #george russell imagine #george russell blurb #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 reader #f1 blurb

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f1letters · 1 year

Text

midnight rain | gr63

"chasing that fame, he stayed the same, all of me changed like midnight"

summary: what happens when he decides his career will always be more important than their relationship?

warning: angst, overall just sad, heartbreak, breakup, swearing, mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of hate from fans and media, lowkey toxic George, the beginning of the story takes place at the end of 2021 when George was announced as the new Mercedes driver, happy-ish ending

pairing: george russell x reader

word count: 3.1k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts not only by the reader but also by other people.

well... this story REALLY wanted to be posted, iykyk 🤠 hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy the FINAL version of this story! haha

masterlist

Rain

Life as we know it is made of cycles.

A conversation started with a hello ends with a goodbye. The beautiful birth ends in a painful death. An open door eventually closes. A sunrise in the morning ends in a sunset at the end of the day. Light always ends in darkness.

And love is very similar to this philosophy of nature.

Like the long-awaited magnificent spring flowers, it is born out of nowhere, giving a new colour and a completely new meaning to our lives. It symbolizes a fresh start, a new chance. With it comes enthusiasm, warmth, eagerness. You wake up in the morning happier, looking forward to facing the day ahead. Everything looks better, more colourful, happier.

Spring was in fact beginning when Y/N met George.

She could still remember the 16-year-old boy at the back of the classroom, constantly lost in thought as he stared out the window. His eyes were on the pink blossoms beginning to bloom on the long branches of the old tree in the high school garden. The girl found herself thinking "Why does he look out there so much?" and hence her curiosity arose. She wanted, no, she needed to meet the quiet guy in the class.

She remembered it all too well, and she was convinced that she would never be able to forget it.

She would never be able to forget how no one made her laugh as he did. How his hand fit hers as if they were made for each other. How the scent of his perfume made her heart beat faster.

Young Y/N didn't know if soul mates were true, or a myth created by hopeless romantics. But of one thing she was sure: if anyone was hers, it was George Russell.

Two halves of the same heart made to unite, two souls destined to meet in this life and all the ones to come, two bodies attached by an invisible thread.

However, every spring inevitably leads to cold, harsh winters. Blue skies are replaced by dark clouds. The sun rays by thunder. The flowers by snow. The colour by grey.

Again, love always follows nature's trend and, as time goes by, it too inevitably leads to rain.

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

Years passed and with them went birthdays, anniversaries, Christmases, New Years, family gatherings and vacations.

With them went births and funerals, laughter and tears, fights and reconciliations.

But although the wind changed with the seasons, one thing that always stayed the same was the passionate way that Y/N unconditionally supported her partner.

Seven years later, the young woman screamed his name from the audience with the same intensity as when she saw him win the first time in Formula 3. Her heart seemed to jump out of her chest with the same anticipation as when she saw him become a Formula 2 champion.

It didn't really matter to her whether he was racing karts or Formula 1 cars, as long as he was happy and fulfilled, and although his world brought cages and fences with it, she never felt so free as when she had him by her side.

Everything suddenly seemed to change with the announcement of George's new contract at reigning champions Mercedes.

With the career opportunity of a lifetime came happiness, gratitude, finally the reward for all the effort not only by him but by everyone who was part of his support system.

But on the other hand, what for some was paradise... for others has become a torturous hell on earth.

All of a sudden, all eyes were on the Brit. All the media wrote about the talented star who was to succeed seven-time champion, Lewis Hamilton. All the attention was on him, and so was all the pressure.

And to be perfectly blunt, George lived for it. The fame, the luxury, the focus on him, it was everything he ever dreamed of.

He lived for the flashes, for the applause, for the screams of the fans.

The lights that seemed to blind Y/N were swiftly becoming the cause of the driver's tunnel vision.

My town was a wasteland

Full of cages, full of fences

Pageant queens and big pretenders

But for some, it was paradise

In the midst of all the chaos, the same eyes that put the driver on a pedestal were the ones that threw knives at the innocent girl for simply... Existing.

In the blink of an eye, and with her boyfriend's last season in the Williams team now wrapping up, all of the young woman's movements started to be carefully studied, millimetre by millimetre.

How dare she be so happy and smiling ear to ear when he just finish the race dead last.

Look at that frown on her face when her boyfriend scored points in a weak car like that.

She looks so annoyed to be there, so ungrateful.

She has a millionaire boyfriend and yet she doesn't have the money to hire a decent stylist.

My boy was a montage

A slow-motion, love potion

Jumping off things in the ocean

I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain

Everything was a critique. Because she did something, or because she didn't. Because she said this, or because she didn't say that. Because she used a white that was too white, or because she used a black that was too black.

George Russell was a montage, and she was just an accidental stain beside him ruining the perfect picture.

But she tried.

For him, she tried to be the bride people wanted for him. And nothing hurts more than trying your absolute best and still not being good enough.

George's focus was solely on making his own name in the world of motorsports and Y/N ended up forgotten and overlooked by the man while she was facing a world of hate alone.

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

Suddenly two halves that once made a whole became two pieces of a puzzle that didn't fit together.

She was sunshine, he was midnight rain.

Y/N was sitting on her couch, just like every night. Propped up on her beige pillows, the young woman followed her daily routine of masochism and scrolled through screens and screens of comments about her, mentally taking notes of what could be improved.

She shouldn't do it, and she knew it herself, but the desire for approval and validation from others was more important to her than keeping her heart intact.

The unexpected sound of her doorbell woke her back to the real world and the girl was immediately confused, as she wasn't expecting anyone at that time of night.

The only company she wanted at that moment was the thunder that lit up the living room every couple of minutes.

The woman got up, putting her hands comfortably in the pockets of her sweater, and walked towards the entrance of her apartment. She looked through the silver peephole and a wave of panic ran through her entire body.

Fuck me, the team party.

Amid all the stress, Y/N completely forgot about the invitation until now she saw her boyfriend, in a full suit, standing there looking at the expensive watch on his wrist, indicating that she was fighting a ticking time bomb.

When she opened the door, George let himself in without even looking at her.

"So? We're already late." The man questioned, still with his vision glued to the counted minutes, while Y/N froze in her place, in her pyjamas, not knowing what to say.

"Why aren't you ready?" Russell questioned, confused and slightly upset with the girl. "It's almost midnight."

"Sorry my love, I completely forgot" Y/N answered sincerely, approaching her partner and placing a tender kiss on his cheek.

"How? I told you multiple times." The boy spoke angrily, releasing a frustrated sigh. "Come on. Go get ready quickly so we can get out of here. We're already going to be the last ones to arrive. Good job, Y/N." The irony escaped his tongue.

Although the guilt was already consuming her insides, the emotional exhaustion associated with the team only made her want to stay home more. She didn't have the energy to socialize, to make small talk, to keep up the shiny appearances.

"I don't feel like going, to be honest." The woman confessed, exhausted, crossing her arms in front of her chest defensively.

It came like a postcard

Picture perfect shiny family

Holiday peppermint candy

But for him, it's every day

"You never fucking do." His voice rose in pitch as he brought his hand to her hair, tugging at it, irritated with his girlfriend. "It's excuse after excuse. You never stop to think this shit is important to me and my career."

The words that escaped his mouth fell on the young woman like a bucket of cold water and, like the deafening lightning outside, the darkness charged through her and consumed her utterly.

There was no turning back.

"You must be fucking kidding me. This has to be a joke." She laughed humourless, in disbelief. "I'm the one who doesn't care. Me."

"What the fuck are you trying to say?" His eyes landed on her, sharp as knives. "Come on, say what you want to say. You started it, now you better finish it."

"What I mean is, I'm done with this picture perfect act. I'm tired of doing everything for you and getting nothing in return other than scorn, indifference, cold words." The girl screamed, releasing the feelings she had hidden for so long. "I never demand anything from you, I do what you ask me to do, I go where you want me to go, I act how I should act."

Y/N felt tears form in her eyes as she continued her rant. "All of that and what do I get in return? Nothing. Not even a single thank you. It's like you don't even care about me at all." A sob escaped the girl.

"Don't be dramatic, Y/N. For God's sake." George shook his head, completely dismissing his longtime partner's admissions.

"See?" A sob escaped the girl, now shattered and heartbroken. "It's all about you. I have zero value in this relationship. What are we even doing in it if you only care about your fucking self and Mercedes and Formula 1? I'm nobody in your life. You don't have space for me in your life anymore."

The driver looked dumbfounded at the girl in pyjamas while trying to understand what he was feeling in the face of her accusations.

Ignoring the time and the party that awaited him, George turned his back on his girlfriend, leaving her alone to cry sitting on the edge of her sofa, and went to her balcony, closing the glass door and creating a physical barrier between them.

How did things go so wrong all of a sudden?

Neither of them understood how such a warm, sunny love story could lead to the beginning of such a cold, rainy end.

So I peered through a window

A deep portal, time travel

All the love we unravel

And the life I gave away

'Cause he was sunshine, I was midnight rain

Putting some distance between them at that moment was undoubtedly the only viable option to avoid ruining everything. Although the future of the two was uncertain, both would rather die than tarnish the past that they shared over the years.

One minute became five, five became ten, and ten became twenty.

In her anticipation, the sound of the clock hands seemed even louder than the thunderstorm on the other side of the window to Y/N.

Eventually, George returned to the living room, with his jacket now over his arm and a few drops of rain running down his forehead, resembling the tears that now also fell from his sad eyes.

Without breaking the deafening silence between them, the boy moved to the sofa and took his place next to the trembling girl, not a word escaping both of their mouths.

They were both afraid, but they knew what inevitably had to happen.

"This isn't working anymore, Y/N." George was the first to speak, sighing. "This is not healthy for either of us."

The young woman's head and heart battled within her.

On one hand, she knew; she knew it was right and she agreed that it would be better to end it there than to ruin something that until then had been wonderful, even with its challenges.

But her heart…the poor thing wasn't willing to give up the one person who she believed to be the love of her life.

The girl stood up abruptly, making Russell's neck turn towards her, caught by surprise. "No, no, it can't be. I'll just go get dressed and we will go to the party and everything will be fi-."

"Y/N." The man got up and grabbed her hands, keeping her at arm's length. "This. Us. It's hopeless. It's for the best."

"You can't do this to me." The girl screamed, full-on crying and sobbing now, in complete denial. "You can't, you just can't. Not after all the life I gave away for you. You can't, George."

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

She couldn't help but think of all the sacrifices she'd made for him, for his success even against her own well-being.

All the long flights she took to the other end of the world to support him no matter what place he ended up in. All the plans she cancelled to attend his celebrations, galas and dinners. All the mental health she put at risk. And now…she was alone, with nothing, no future, no hopes, no goals, no dreams.

She simply couldn't imagine a world where her future didn't involve him.

"This can't be the end…" She whispered, letting her inner thoughts escape.

George let his forehead rest against hers, savouring what they both knew were their last moments.

"I'm sorry for everything, love, I really am. You deserve so much more than this. But we want different things in our lives now, one of us would've ended up unhappy and resentful for having to be the one sacrificing everything."

The girl's silence was more than an answer for George, understanding that she agreed with him, even though both hearts felt like they were being ripped out of their chests at that moment.

The driver lifted his head until his lips reached the top of her head, where he placed a lingering, heartfelt kiss. His eyes closed tightly, trying to prevent more tears from spilling at the sound of the small girl's cries.

George broke away from the girl and, after letting his eyes study her image one last time, he walked to the apartment door and just left, not looking back once.

He knew that if he did he would never be able to make the right thing and let their beautiful story end there.

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

How to move on when the person you love leaves? Time.

And like the seasons, time moves on.

You learn to get out of bed again in the morning. Getting dressed to go to your family. Gaining motivation to get on the bus and go to work. Accepting invitations to have a drink or go out with friends, even when you want nothing but to stay in bed crying, eating some ice cream.

You don't feel whole all of a sudden, you might still feel like a part of you is missing but you learn to feel... okay.

Time moved forward, and Y/N slowly began to regain her happiness, now depending on no one but her.

Her life went on and she got just what she wanted: anonymity, peace, comfort.

After a year, she never thought of him daily like she used to.

Except when she turned on the TV in her hotel room, after returning from a girls' night in Cancun, and she saw him.

On top of the podium, the driver had finally accomplished his dream of winning a Grand Prix Prix for Mercedes and, with that, add his name in Formula 1's history.

She couldn't help thinking about the "what if"s.

While she would never be able to admit it to another soul, she couldn't help but think about how much she still hoped he was the one.

I guess sometimes we all get

Just what we wanted, just what we wanted

And he never thinks of me

Except for when I'm on TV

Whether haunted by the memories of them or the happiness she could only feel with him by her side, Y/N would survive the heartbreak, and she knew it.

Of course, she still loved him and she believed there would never be a day when she didn't.

But the beautiful thing about love is that you can love someone and want all the success in the world for them… and still go on without them.

What cold, dark, sad winter it was.

But spring always finds a way to come back.

I guess sometimes we all get

Some kind of haunted, some kind of haunted

And I never think of him

Except on midnights like this

taglist: @dan3avacado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

@idkiwantchocolatee @simpforsunwoo @kissatelier @xweirdxsceletton @micksmidnights @miniminescapist @inchidentwithmax @hopelesslyromantics-world @alwaysclassyeagle @indieclarke @capela-miranda @okokoksblog @pulpfixion @sins-only33 @sainzclerc @allisonxf1 @honethatty12 @amsofftrack @flannel-cures @junkiespromise @loudoperahumanoidpanda @honeyric3 @holy-macncheese-balls @ricciardosheart @pierreverstapkin

@ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

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discopaddock · 9 months

Text

MATHS - GEORGE RUSSELL

PAIRING: george russell x non-british!fem!reader

GENRE: fluff

WORD COUNT: 549

WARNINGS: none, george is once upset

George Russell always could find something interesting in people. Even if they were random people on the street in King’s Lynn. He was curious about everyone and everything.

That’s why he found himself after his own lessons in school to help younger students in maths. It was truly easy for him, he ate at mathematics.

“So, George, let me introduce Y/N to you” was said by Miss Anderson, the maths teacher. The boy smiled a little, watching a blonde girl with a book in her hands.

“Hi, I’m George, it’s nice to meet you” he spoke, extending his hand towards her. The girl shook his hand while calling her name. He thought she was cute, maybe adorable. And maybe pretty.

“So now I’m gonna leave you two, so you can study in silence. Good luck” the woman smiled, stroking Y/N’s arm. When she left, they both sat on a bench opposite each other.

“I’m terrible at maths. I'm warning you right now” she said, making George laugh.

“It cannot be that bad,” Russell said and looked into her coursebook. “Ok, so firstly you have to…” and that's how their friendship started.

George was there when she filmed her first YouTube video and Y/N was there when he became a GP3 Series champion.

“hi champ, hope youre doing well. im in [home country] with mum finally. well see each other after holidays. happy christmas champ, love you, your Y/N xx”

He really adored her. Especially her texts and voice. He sometimes caught himself that he was even watching her YouTube videos, which were filmed in [your native language], just to hear her voice but he never had told her about it.

“Hey Y/N, I'm happy to hear that your flight was safe. Merry Christmas to you too, lots of love your G💟”

Then he was promoted to Formula 1, which made both of them endlessly happy. L/N couldn't be happier than when she was with him at the GPs.

“Hey, big G, don't be so critical of yourself” she told him with a bright smile on her face. “I'll be always proud of you, no matter what'll happen, remember that” the girl added and then lended a small kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks dollface, it's just, ugh, I don't even know! I feel powerless about all of these” he announced, taking a seat in his driver's room. The girl sat beside him and put her head on his back (she didn't care that he was all sweaty, she just wanted him to know that she was there for him). “Thanks for being with me here, dollface. You have no idea how much it means to me”

“You're welcome every time, G. Don't ever forget it”

People after seeing them both in Formula 1: Drive To Survive, started to ship them. Pics of them were like on every platform: Tiktok, Instagram, or Telegram. It wasn't something that they were expecting. Y/N and George were just friends, right? For five years of knowing each other, just friends. Nothing more or less.

Well… it was an official version, which their fans knew.

They were a couple. Since George won a championship.

The truth of their relationship was a secret, because neither of them wanted any hate that their partner could receive.

masterlist

#formula 1 #discopaddock #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #george russel x reader #george russell #george russel imagine #george russell x you #george russell x y/n #george russell fluff #george russell angst #george russell blurb

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spicyclover · 1 year

Text

She’s everything. He’s just Ken

Summary: You eat cereal when he announces he wants to break up.

Request

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

I'm open to requests.

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

Inspire by Dakota Johnson and Armie Hammer. (I don’t remember the name of the series/film where this scene is from. So if you know, comment in the section below. Thank you!)

I wrote another story for this request because the first one was too sad.

There has been a lot of up and down in your relationship with George. You can’t remember the last time you had a meal together without being mad at each other and having make-up sex afterward.

You’re not unhappy with him. Actually, you love him dearly. But he’s always been complicated and unsure of everything. One day he would be the perfect gentleman, giving you flowers, kissing you every time he can, saying to you how much he loves you. But some days, it’s like he doesn’t know.

His mother always refers to you as Barbie, not in the wrong way, like superficial or anything. Just because everywhere you go, you grab attention. Everyone turns at you. Giving you free stuff. Telling you how beautiful you are. She never quite understands why your choice has been on George. To be honest, you can’t explain it either. So eventually, everyone started to joke around, saying that George is just Ken and you’re everything. He hates it, and something that is what the fight is all about.

Last night was a lousy fight for both of you. Yelling at each other all night and him deciding to sleep on the couch. You didn’t sleep. You lay in your bed, waiting for the hours to pass, listening to his sights behind the door. You made a list in your head of everything that happened, all bad and good.

You finally roll out of bed when your alarm goes off. You rub your tired eyes, and you drag yourself to the kitchen to have your breakfast. Pouring cereal into a bowl, you look over at him. He’s gazing at you to make so much noise, but you don’t care.

“I think we should break up. I don’t believe this is working.” He says, sitting in front of you.

“Okay.” You say, unbothered.

“That’s all you got? Okay?” He repeats.

“What would you expect that we cuddle?”

“Fuck you!”

You smirk, looking up and down at him. He takes his stuff and slams the door. You expected him to come back, but he didn’t. This surprises you initially, but you no longer have time for him.

A few weeks passed, and you kept working at the organization for the Grand Prix in Silverstone. Freshly single, you met a guy a few times, but nothing serious. I mean, that’s what you thought. Only after a few weeks he finally kissed you.

You didn’t expect this action so soon but didn’t back down. Yet, the following day, you made it clear to him that it was only one evening. You left, leaving him stunned.

You smirk and get back to your hotel room. You get to the track for the race a few hours later, and you don’t tell George you will be there. So you walk in like you own the place and go straight into his garage. The few team members you pass on your way politely greet you, unaware of your breakup.

You see him talking to his engineers. You smile politely at the person who recognizes you and leaves the Mercedes garage to go to the Red Bull garage. You can feel George’s eyes on you when he sees you kissing his worst enemy on the track.

His hands rest on your hips, visibly surprised by this situation change. After all, a few hours ago, you made him understand that you wanted nothing more, and now you’re kissing him in front of everyone.

“I didn’t change my mind.” You say, getting away. “I’m just playing a long game.” You smirk and get out of the way.

Leaving the garage to find your place at the paddock club.

Let's just say this race has been brutal.

George wins, and your lover DNF.

The first thing George did?

Grabbing your face to kiss you, unable to let you go.

“You’re right. I’m just Ken.”

#george russell #george russel x reader #george russel imagine #george russell x you #george russell angst #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1

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f1-oclock · 1 month

Text

[9:22 pm]

George finally musters up the courage to take your hand in his, hoping for you not to look at him and catch his red cheeks.

#f1 hours #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fluff #f1 soft hours #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagines #f1 angst #george russell #george russell x reader #george russell angst #george russell fluff

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writingshushf1 · 1 year

Text

THE LONELIEST

Summary: You'll be the saddest part of me. A part of me that will never be mine. It's obvious. Tonight is gonna be the loneliest

Rating: +16

Warnings: angst? breakup? losing someone

Word count: 3.7k

Note: this was an old pierre gasly fic that i wrote last year for a friend- however since i don't actually like writing for him (and the plot doen't fit for him AT ALL) i rewrote some details and now here it is! I did it with george because it matched him? i guess and to change a bit from the usual either mick or lewis requests. MAY HAVE SOME MISTAKES on writing

masterlist

It was supposed to be just one night, a single dawn of fun and silly mistakes, but I was wrong. And life is never that easy.

Monaco, August 2022.

The view was breathtaking, clearly worth every penny spent. Strolling through Port Hercule at night was breathtaking, the yachts lit up, people partying and living in every possible luxury. I admit, I was a little jealous, I really wanted to be in the middle of it all.

It seemed very well that fate really wanted me to make the most of it, because within minutes a man taller than me came closer. At first I was apprehensive and turned away slightly, until he began to speak.

"A friend of mine saw that you were alone here, taking pictures of the place and walking. Um..." The man looked me up and down. "Invitation from her, if you want, you can join us." He smiled at me, clearly the stranger possessed the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.

For a few seconds, I thought about the proposal, because they were strangers and I didn't know what they wanted to do with me, but you only live once. Before agreeing, I sent the location to my friend. If I didn't answer within 3 hours, she could get desperate and call the police.

"Sure. We can go, yes." He held out his hand to me, reluctantly, I held it and let him guide me around the place. "I don't know your name yet."

"George Russell. You?"

"Y/n."

"Interesting name, where are you from?" Russell was trying to initiate some conversation until we got to the boat. It was cute, like he was really interested in what I was going to talk about.

I answered, seeing him crack a smile. "However, these last few years I am hopping around several countries because of my job."

When we entered the luxurious place, I could no longer hear him properly, the conversations and loud music filled our surroundings, he just smiled and dragged me to the small bar set up.

"On the house, whatever drink you want." He murmured over my ear. This distance was too dangerous.

Hours later, I woke up crossed in my hotel bed. I had an unbearable hangover, but I was not going to let it ruin my day. Again, I was exploring the place to find out something to do. I walked around the city, hoping to bump into the pair of clear eyes that had kept me company on the yacht. Since it was a Sunday, brunch would be my choice for my first meal of the day, so I walked around looking for a place to eat. After a while I found a small, cozy restaurant and the first person I see when I enter is him. My heart races and I seem to hold my breath involuntarily.

"Y/n!" He calls out loudly, breaking my trance, "I thought I would never see you again."

"I didn't think so either, not least because we were too crazy yesterday to be rational and take each other's number." I laughed lightly.

"So… This is Alex Albon and Mick Schumacher, two very close friends of mine." I greeted them both. "So... Tonight we're going out to a nightclub, if you'd like to join us, just let me know the hotel you're in and I'll come pick you up."

"You really enjoyed my company!" I said, cracking a smile immediately afterwards.

"What can I do? You're the life of the party, honey."

...

Okay, I was on the verge of a breakdown and it was about one piece of clothing. It had been 30 minutes and I couldn't decide between two dresses. It was almost time for me to go down to the hotel lobby and I was still standing there in just my underwear looking at both. My cell phone ringing was the highlight, it was him and he was probably already waiting for me downstairs. Out of desperation I grabbed the simplest but most low-cut black dress.

The elevator took ages - actually, seconds - to drop me off on the first floor and I ran to meet him.

"Wow, you're a sight for sore eyes, someone was definitely inspired today" He said as I got closer to him, I just rolled my eyes and he laughed, opening the car door for me.

Arriving at the club, I was clearly feeling out of place, the people were extremely rich and in the middle of them, there was I. We went to the VIP area and soon I was already with a glass of an expensive drink in hand and making small talk with George. He had the best subjects to hold me in conversation while he managed to flirt shamelessly and I was completely falling for it. The boys and his other friends were dancing with girls - either his girlfriends or random girls, while he was trying to be as sexy as possible, trying to impress me. And he was.

"Let's dance." I spoke softly to him, holding his hand and pulling him into the group of people.

Unholy, by Sam Smith was playing and at that moment I was not me, not even a little bit, it seemed that all the shame and lack of courage had been taken from me. The British had already understood what I was doing, so he rested his firm hands on my waist as I danced shamelessly, moving my body against him. He was enjoying what I was doing, his breaths getting heavier and closer to my ear, until his face was pressed against the back of my neck. Thank God it was dark and no one could see how we were grinding into each other

"Oh God, doll..." He murmured, which left me with my cheeks boiling with embarrassment, however it was not the moment. "I want to kiss you so badly."

"Kiss me then."

In a matter of seconds, I felt my body being turned around and his lips were against mine. I couldn't help myself, I ran my hands over his body, from his chest to the back of his neck. He responded in the same way, his hands were not discreet and it didn't matter who saw us like that. The kiss was hot and desperate, as if he had wanted it since he first saw me. When we parted for some air, his lips were a purplish shade of purple from my lipstick, which made me laugh softly at the forgotten detail.

"Do you want to get out of here? Where I live there is plenty of room for one more person to spend the night there." His hand was already strong on my waist, as a sign of dominance and it made a puddle form inside my panties

"Okay."

We could have reached where he lived in 5 minutes, but with the amount of distractions we had on the way, it ended up lasting 20. We can say that a few kisses and touches were exchanged in the meantime.

Russell’s desire was gigantic, for the moment I closed the door, I was picked up and seconds later my back was against the bed. I took off my heels anyway and he was soon on top of me.

"That dress clearly had an effect on me." That was the last thing he said before he kissed me again.

...

I opened my eyes slowly, the darkness of the room that was not mine confused me for a few seconds until I remembered where I really was. It was at that moment that I felt hands around my naked waist and George sleeping peacefully beside me. My first reaction was not to move, he looked so calm that I turned my body to lie against his chest, just to enjoy the moment of peace, but happiness doesn't last long...

"Good morning." His voice was half hoarse and in a low tone. Shit, why so hot?

"Good morning." I sighed loudly and stood, completely forgetting that I was only in my panties until he groaned at me, my cheeks blushing with embarrassment.

"Vision of paradise." I said unashamedly.

I didn't answer, just smiled shyly and quickly got dressed. Soon I was brushing my teeth and he didn't even get out of bed. When I was ready to leave, the British got up in just his underwear.

"Why are you going already? We had such a good night..." Indeed, the night had been one of the best I had ever had.

"Because..." There was no reason, we didn't work together, we don't even have any previous relationship or that would cause future problems. "There is no reason. I thought we were just a one-night stand."

"It doesn't have to be a one-night stand. If you want." He said in a lower tone, as if it were our secret. "I'm willing to try." His hands passed around my waist, pulling my body against his and away from the door.

I thought for a moment before answering. My previous relationships had been terrible and no one seemed to be the person. I hardly knew him, didn't know where he worked, just that he was very rich, his hobbies...

"We can try." And so, I made the most painful mistake of my life.

...

I was wearing one of his shirts, while he was ordering our breakfast - they looked so big on me. He was tall so his outfits were bigger. I sat on the window ledge, looking out at the beautiful scenery that could be seen from there. As soon as he returned with two relatively large boxes, I smiled.

"Don't go anywhere, I'll tidy up and we can eat with the beautiful view on the balcony." My heart melted for a few seconds, how cute could he be? Clearly my view of him had changed in a matter of minutes.

Neither of us shared a word while we were eating, but in our defense, the food was wonderful, which drew a few satisfied sighs. Still, in order to make conversation and find out about his personal life, I made conversation again.

"George?"

"Huh?"

"What do you work in? So far I haven't asked you or even googled you to find out if you are some big tycoon who can rent an apartment in Monaco." The tone was not one of malice, just curiosity. "I know at times, you had people from afar taking pictures of you, but I thought I just thought you were handsome. It's just that I have this thing… I mean, which job is so good that you live here." I cracked an amused smile, crossing my legs over his.

"Formula 1 driver. Currently at Mercedes." He replied as if it was the most common job in the world, yet at the same moment I knocked over the piece of cronut that was in my hands. "I thought you already knew!"

"No! I didn't know? Look... I only know the most famous ones that have passed through the sport... Senna, Schumacher, Prost...Lauda. I had no idea who was currently in the sport." He just laughed at my surprise. "That's why people keep watching you from afar! By God! What if they saw us leaving the club last night? What could that do to your reputation?"

"Honey. Calm down, it's not that dramatic." He used his free hand to place it over my cheek. "They always speculate about our lives and I couldn't care less. If we are available to try, I think more about you. You're not used to living in this life of cameras and constant attention."

"I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"For you? Yes."

...

Two weeks went by and there I was, watching from my cell phone, the Dutch Grand Prix, all for George Russell. Officially we were still nothing, however, under the surface. He was my boyfriend.

Something so strange to say, as much as I know he is the right person. At that moment I was at the airport, ready to catch a plane to the province of Monza, so that we could spend a week together - more like post-practice on Friday, post-qualifying on Saturday and post-race on Sunday, because I cannot yet afford to quit my job to live as a fan of my boyfriend.

That's when the inevitable problems started to happen.

I arrived exhausted in Monza and went straight to the hotel, didn't answer messages and didn't even look at my cell phone properly. I was so tired that I wanted my bed. Russell was extremely worried and almost considered leaving the Netherlands on Monday because of my disappearance. On Tuesday, he came to my hotel room, but I was constantly in meetings and doing work, which did not please him, because he missed my company. That day he apologized. On Wednesday I got some time off, but he had already arranged to leave with his friends. There was nothing to apologize for. By Thursday he was already involved with the race that would happen on Sunday and I continued working. We hardly spoke to each other.

On Friday, after the free training sessions, we had a dinner scheduled in a fancy restaurant and we managed to go. I can say that it was the best night, because we didn't sleep afterwards, we just killed our homesickness with lots of wine, conversation and sex.

Saturday was qualifying and I was there. Sunday, third place. I was proud of him and we celebrated together with the others. I felt out of place with the other girlfriends and partners of the pilots, for the most part they were all so Chic, I felt left out, because I was a simple girl who, with the effort of my family that helped me get to a renowned company, was still not enough.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were ordinary, goodbye is always painful, I would only see him in a few weeks. One of those nights around the weekend, he said I love you and I said it back, hanging up the phone before I could hear his answer.

We haven't seen each other in person for over a month. He travels to one side of the world. I am in a different city, we try to reconcile time zones and catch planes, but our routine is dull and it is upsetting for both of us. What keeps us positive is the end of the season and finally we can spend weeks and weeks together. Four more races and this year is over.

Each time more time passed, the pain in my chest of longing increased, because we were amazing together, love seemed to overflow, yet the pain of not having him by my side hurt me and I know that it also affected him mentally. A painful truth seemed to grow in my chest. I was trying to knead it, but it was getting bigger and bigger.

The agony often took over my body. The fear of him never coming home, what if he found someone better? What if I gave up this crazy life he was living? If I wanted more security?

Maybe this was not the time to be together.

And that only proved to be true around Christmas. Our first fight, over something as simple as where we were going to spend the holiday together, ended in both sides crying and endless apologies. Our temper was still the biggest problem for both of us, even if our love was big and beautiful. Explosiveness to end everything in a matter of seconds. We were in a weird mood for 3 days after that. The decision was to spend Christmas each with their own family, the relationship was too new for us to go out showing off to each other and this was right, newly blossoming feelings. I spent the holiday period sending pictures and messages, getting minimal responses, but it was expected.

After that, the relationship was still very good, we couldn't see each other on some weekends, the other turned to love and sex, yet there was an elephant in our midst that no one wanted to mention. The start of racing in 2023. He was now in a relatively better car than the previous one and that would demand even more of him.

We avoided the subject until the start of pre-season testing. His mental health was worse than usual, but he was happy with the results, I was... My family had disassembled, losing someone was never easy, much less when your job also blew up in less than a week after that, besides being on the other side of the world with no prediction of returning home. Everything had piled up and was taking too much out of both of us.

He was trying to be everything, only my life was meaningless and no matter how much I returned the love, I knew it was still not enough for his big, passionate heart.

We needed to talk.

...

The second day he was home, my body was exhausted from looking out for work so as not to leave him paying for it alone, even though he didn't mind. As soon as I arrived, I ran to his lap, where I hid my face and let him comfort me.

"We need to talk."

"What's it about, kitten?"

"We... We are distant. Not physically, but mentally... It seems that our lives don't want to share with each other. I need to go back to my country and I don't know if I can get back here anytime soon, while you... You are in an amazing team, living a dream of winning podiums... To be adored by new people. They are not working out."

"Love..."

"I am serious. Haven't you noticed that every time our lives come into our relationship, either we fight and come out crying or one of us needs to be consoling the other? It's never about enjoying each other's lives, participating, feeling at home. It is about working like convicts and maybe on the weekend getting together for sex sessions and small talk over a bottle of wine. Not that I don't love this and don't love you.”

"However?"

"Yet this is killing me, and it's killing you, too. You're 25 years old, baby. At the peak of your career and so soon you don't want to retire and stop the momentum. I need some calm right now, my family is destroyed. You are married to your career, which I don't think is completely wrong for your environment, but our visions of the future will not fit together. At least not today."

I watched him swallow hard, his face turned to the side, tears timidly streaming down his face. Without even hesitating, I run both hands over his face, wiping them away.

"I don't want to break up with you. It's the first time I've ever been completely given over to someone. I have never, ever really devoted myself as much, felt as loved as you have made me feel, honey. " The crying voice brought pain to my heart and I wanted to give up halfway through. "Don't do this to me."

"You know I don't want to either." I murmured, ignoring my own tears and leaning my forehead against his. "But it's the best thing for both of us. How many times have we cried this week? Over things within our relationship that we can't fix. They're incorrigible because they're not up for us to change, George."

"I know. I know all this, but I don't want to lose you."

"You won't lose me. I promise you. One day we will meet again."

"How do you know?"

"Because our lives aren't on the same page. One day we'll have our right moment and we'll make everything we couldn't experience in these months count. I promise."

"I will never forget you.

"Then let's make this night unforgettable."

And we had sex that night. We cried together, packed my bags, and cried some more. And in a few hours I was at the airport to return to my country. He didn't want to let me go, his hug was so strong and his kisses were endless, they were so desperate but at the same time they carried so much love. Everyone always said that goodbyes were always hard, even more so for young loves.

"This here. It stays with you. When you think it's our time, you give it back to me." He took it off one of his favorite necklaces, placing it around my neck.

I was unresponsive for a few seconds, just enjoying the touch of his hands. "I will always love you, Russ."

"And I will always love you too, love. See you someday?"

"See you someday."

So we had our last kiss, intense, with his tongue next to mine, bodies glued together, and then a strong and tearful hug, and minutes later I was walking into the plane, my face swollen. I couldn't stop crying and thinking how incredible that love had been.

Thinking about the future with him, with the possibility of meeting him again made me cry even more, because I had the courage to leave him, however I knew it was the best, I didn't want us to end with just hate and no love.

When you love, sometimes you have to make the hardest choice.

...

George (pov)

I was sitting on my bed. I didn't know that love could hurt so much as it did right now.

"She was that person who messed everything up and yet, fixed everything at the same time. I was no longer Russell who did things without thinking. She loved me so much and I loved her so much. Why does everything that is good have such a painful end? It was just like a novel... Which was supposed to be beautiful, the kind that annoys people with all the love the main characters have, but…” Lewis just listened to me, with a hand on my shoulder. He squeezed slightly, to show that he understood what I meant.

"The greatest loves don't last forever, friend." He murmured, giving me a hug where I let myself cry.

#george russell #george russel imagine #george russel x reader #george russell x y/n #george russell x you #george russell fluff #george russell angst #george russell fanfiction #george russell one shot #f1 fanfiction #f1 rpf #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #george russell blurb #rus63

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oh-saints · 2 years

Text

the holiday (p.1)

george was supposed to come home and find her sister, cara, and her family. instead, he was left with a beautiful stranger until the british grand prix. with girlfriend no longer in possession and his parents going on a long overdue vacation, it was guaranteed george would have the most interesting break.

[loosely based on the film “the holiday (2006)”]

“why is something so wrong feels so right?”

george russell x architect!OC

word count: 4.2k

tw: mentions of cheating (but not the MCs); loneliness; suggestive contents; fluff? angst?

song: dreaming of you - cigarettes after sex; distance - christina perri; almost is never enough - arianna grande (feat. nathan sykes); august - taylor swift

note: JUST BECAUSE, you know? my kind of cheering myself up after arsenal lost the day before monday. there’s also tons of inaccuracy about george’s family because i believe that’s the private side of his life so i don’t wanna dive too much to that. BUT another GR63 work because watching him racing did me wonders and this is like a bonus because my first attempt to write hit 50 notes (!!), thank you so much guys xx

wisbech.

the place where he grew up, the place where his dream of becoming f1 world champion blossomed. it had been ages since the last time he came up north—his parents had moved down to south to be closer to him as his racing journey started to pick up, his siblings would always come down to his parents’ current abode whenever george was in town (or country, whichever may be the case). his sister, cara, now inherited their old house and lived there with her husband, chris, and her son, jack.

the last time he bothered to drive a long mile to the small city was when he attended jack’s christmas play two years ago, right before the pandemic brought everyone down with it. the season had already ended that time, giving him plenty of time to travel far, and his only nephew had been begging to have him at school—probably to show off to everyone his uncle was the rookie f1 driver everyone had been talking about. but he remembered vividly the calmness of the suburban as he ran his daily 10k one morning, a striking difference to the busy life he’d been leading since he turned 16.

today, he hoped the same tranquillity would wash all over him. the last thing he wanted to have right now was everyone tailing his every move, flashing camera at his face, running mouths to gossip about him—all the jazz that came with the business. he didn’t ask for forever; at least enough amount to have him focused for the next race weekend.

and surrounding yourself with your closest ones always helped. with his parents going on a long overdue trip (thanks, covid) to malta, his sister was the first person to pop into george’s mind after everything fell apart under his nose. as much as benji’s advice never failed, he really didn’t need his brother to laugh at his face first before going full-on serious brother mode, like a typical older brother would do to his younger brother. george would even try to endure chris’ dry jokes and jack’s chatterbox personality if it means that he’d get his piece of mind.

it was already a wonder how george didn’t manage to have a mental breakdown whilst driving to the countryside. he’d been expecting himself to cry, shout, scream—anything to get this heavy rock off his chest—as soon as he was away from the spotlight but he succeeded in reaching his old place just in time as the navsat’s ETA. maybe the title of “mr. consistency” was rightfully given, after all.

well, george doubted any other driver able to finish a grand prix within the top 5 after finding your girlfriend on the bed with another dick that wasn’t yours inside of her just the night before the race. like nothing happened, like it was any other race weekend.

“cara?”

weird. nobody answered him as he continued his way inside.

“chris? jack?”

it wasn’t like cara’s place at all to be this quiet and spotless. everywhere his oldest sibling went, she’d leave a trail of sunshine along her way. this house now felt… too large to be lived in, even though george knew this house had enough of space for more than 3 people.

“anybody home?”

just as george finished the sentence, the typical english cold air swept by him. he turned his head to the direction of the wind, his body went rigid at the thought someone had broken in the house and killed everyone in it like those thriller films, his fists ready to punch anyone who dared to have a go at him. but instead of a robber, his surprise came in another, entirely different form.

an alien woman was certainly not on the list of people who could shock him at that moment.

george was so shell-shocked that he didn’t know which one to digest first. the fact that there was a woman that wasn’t cara at all in cara’s pride of a backyard garden or the fact that the woman was still cantily clad in her sleepwear on a rainy english summer afternoon.

what the fuck is going on?

did he arrive on the wrong address? had cara moved from this house and he didn’t know? did something happen to cara, one that he didn’t know? with george being away so long and so often, his mother would’ve shared things with him so he didn’t feel so left out whenever all of them gathered around.

he was so torn between needing to find out the truth and needing to sit this entire thing down first.

fuck. george cursed himself for not calculating things thoroughly. knowing the press would soon get a sniff of the bombastic breaking news, george immediately texted cara his plans on seeking shelter at her house the day after he landed and turned off his phone right away for (a) safety measures as the mercedes private jet about to take off, and (b) he didn’t have the energy to entertain the badgering from his publicist as soon as he made it on the front page of daily mail.

“well, yes, richard,” the woman-in-question’s voice broke george’s reverie. she sounded so exhausted and angry at the same time. she sounded like him. “i’ve resketched the house from scratch, just as you instructed. what more do you want?”

if george wasn’t so perplexed, he’d definitely give her brownie points. there was something about established women earning off from what her brain was capable of that always nailed george in the heart. no offense to all the models he’d been involved with or all of his fellow f1 drivers’ girlfriend, though.

“with the upcoming deadline, that kind of radical change—you know what, have it your way, richard. demolish everything for all i care. i’m not going to let you ruin my holiday. have a good day.”

this time, the woman-in-question seemed like the one surprised as she turned around, only to find george’s presence looming over the glass door to the backyard. cat got her tongue for a full thirty seconds before she took a deep breath and said, “i’m sorry i didn’t see you there. i take it you must be george, cara’s brother?”

thank god she started to speak because george could feel his brain was having a shortcut circuit error. her back profile, as alluring as it was with all the gentle wind blowing her hair, didn’t do any justice to her front profile. she was breathtaking that george even missed the fact she knew who he was, the fact she might be waiting for him, and the fact that she knew cara (of which should relieve him).

“cara said you texted her you’d be coming when she already departed but couldn’t get a hold of you back, so i should be expecting you sometime today,” george was used to being complimented for having clearest eyes amongst the current f1 drivers but hers far surpassed his. if he wasn’t busy digesting the reality thrown at him, he wouldn’t mind swimming in the pool of her eye colour. “i’m raline, by the way. i’m currently on a house exchange with cara.”

everything was happening at the same time simultaneously and confusingly that george wanted to throw up. was this how aomame of IQ84 felt when she lived through two parallel universes?

“what the hell is house exchange?”

“well, for the next two weeks, she gets to live in my house back in LA, i get to live here. she said she’d try to be at the silverstone, though.”

“why?”

“because we all need some break from normalcy, i suppose?” raline shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious answer. “i mean, our respective long-time partner cheated on us—”

“wait, what?” george’s head hit all-time worst migraine. “cara got cheated on?”

“oh, shit. please don’t tell her it came from my mouth.”

george didn’t know what happened to him the next 10 seconds. all the sudden he was already sitting on the barstool, a glass of water perching on the countertop in front of him. “you’re turning pale. are you sick? can i get you anything else?”

“is there any beer in the fridge?”

“or do you fancy a glass of whiskey?”

“now you speak my language.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

“i see you’re back on the grid.”

george plopped his body on his old bed that was now too small for him. but he didn’t mind one bit, for the bed was a legendary, silent witness of his childhood dream and the suffering he endured alone behind the 4 walls in order to achieve the life he was currently living.

“i see you didn’t tell anyone of your problem and set off to LA.”

“did ral—”

“she didn’t say anything, i presumed much,” george cut his sister off because even if raline didn’t slip off of her tongue, he’d gathered as much. going on a house exchange trip was beyond cara’s character. “what were you thinking, cara?”

“i know, i wasn’t thinking,” his sister sighed deeply over the phone. “but i know i need to get away from wisbech as soon as possible. you know, to think about everything and what i should do next.”

“like myself, in a sense,” cara agreed to george’s statement right away. her youngest brother had always found a way to conclude things simply for everyone to understand since he was a child and she immediately knew he was meant for big and good things ahead. “you know you can always talk to me, right?”

“i know. i just don’t think i can right now,” cara answered and george sensed she wasn’t saying that to dodge his initial question. “you’ll be the first to know about every single thing when i’m ready.”

“promise me?”

“i promise you, giant. but don’t tell mum anything until i do, okay?” cara didn’t need george to say anything because she knew he was nodding somewhere behind the line. “now, what happened to you?”

george managed to chug the entire whiskey contained in his glass and poured some more for the next turn. “well, my girlfriend cheated on me so now she’s my ex and that’s that.”

“oh, giant. i’m sorry to hear that,” cara took a shaky breath and if it wasn’t because of her previous plead of not going there, george would’ve insisted her to talk about it. “i wish i can share my favourite whiskey with you now.”

“you could, you know?”

“george…”

“i know, it’s why i open the bottle myself. do you mind?”

“just left some for me, yeah?” jack’s voice was heard screaming to his mum he was home. “and share some with raline. i think she needs companion as much as you do.”

“right, about ral—”

“she’s of no harm, george. i can assure you that,” jack’s voice was getting louder each passing second. “but i’m sure you don’t have that much of energy to face jack now so i’m going to call you back, okay?”

the phone call went dead before george managed to let out a response and he was, once again, back friends with silence.

he looked around, waiting for the familiar sense of pride this room used to bring—his karting trophies, junior championship photos, the likes. he rubbed his face for how suffocating it felt this time, like it burnt his lungs every time he inhaled the air around him, and he felt like screaming for help. but he knew nobody could, not when the only one he felt like he could talk to was thousands of miles away enjoying LA sun, and it frustrated him beyond belief that it strained his chest. his hands went up to the painful part of his body, grabbed a hold of it so tightly in hope it eased the pain, but all was futile.

before george realized, tears had run down his face.

and for the first time since he cried in this very room after his homeroom teacher laughed at his face for thinking his dream of becoming an f1 driver ridiculous 10 years ago, mr. consistency helplessly broke down into the abyss of despair.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

if george was any other person doing any other job than being an f1 driver, he surely would’ve missed the gentle caress raline called knocking.

“george?”

her weak attempt was enough to alert george, who’d been trained to react the fastest at everything thrown at him, awake. he knew he could jump straight up and open the door but he didn’t want to open the door looking like an absolute wrecking titanic. and the definite explanations that followed from raline.

“it’s way past dinner time,” raline continued, voice still as gentle as she was the afternoon but the information relied on was enough to make george shoot up from his bed. he turned to the clock beside his favourite lewis hamilton’s biography and it read 9:30. “your food’s getting cold.”

he held back a groan. aleix would definitely kill him for not reporting any of post-races exercise he should be doing, on top of not being contactable for almost the past 24 hours or so. not to mention his nutritionist, his team, his parents—oh god, his head hurt from the turn of events. he didn’t expect he would be knocked out cold for god knows how long. the exhaustion must’ve taken its toll physically and mentally, for the last time he over rested was the first race of his f1 career back in abu dhabi in 2019.

but fuck it, he still had another day to explain himself.

george rummaged through his closet and picked up the thick-rimmed glasses he wore once a dozen halloweens ago, when he tried to channel theodore from alvin and the chipmunk. he could only hope it did the trick this time against raline so he didn’t have to undergo the ever complex question of “are you alright?”.

“i hope you don’t mind pasta,” raline started speaking before he could reach the last flight of the stairs. “it seems like cara didn’t have a chance to do some groceries.”

“pasta sounds great,” george pulled up the high stool across the marble countertop where she was behind. “thank you so much. remind me to go to the market tomorrow.”

“i’m heating up your plate,” raline only acknowledged his previous sentence with a nod, then moved around the kitchen with cold precision, like she didn’t like to waste another second around the premise, and it scared him to be honest. “do you want some wine?”

if raline had noticed his swollen eyes and worn-out skin tone, she surely was damn good at hiding it. what she was doing now could rival angelina jolie’s the kitchen scene in mr. & mrs. smith.

“eh, sure,” raline shot him another question of white or red? before he could continue anything else. “i’ll have what you have. i don’t think my famished stomach can complain about anything that’s already served and ready to eat anyway.”

just in time, his stomach grumbled. george shot her an apologetic look at the same time she shot him a what is that? look, and the weird interaction made her laugh. george’s body warmed at the sight, not because he managed to emanate a genuine reaction out of her that was 180 completely different to his impression of her by far, but because she looked stunningly radiating. as if he’d just unlocked the laugh she kept away for so long.

as if she’d been liberated.

only then he realized he was going to share his sanctuary with someone as beautiful and confusing as raline for the next two weeks.

life really had a way to fuck you up, didn’t he?

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

next day, raline still didn’t confront him about the swell that didn’t seem to disperse from his eyes. instead, she greeted him “good morning, george!” with a sleepy smile and her gentle voice before she poured some coffee to his favourite cup, just as he walked in the kitchen after his daily cycling routine.

with her messy bun left some strands framing her facial features, a deadly combination if george had to say. so deadly he failed to notice how she could know it was him before he pulled himself up.

“i hope you don’t mind coffee in the morning,” raline put his cup in front of him, her fingers dainty and her movement seemed calculated. george found himself becoming more and more intrigued at the hot-and-cold contrast she was displaying. “or are you that stereotypical brit that drinks english breakfast tea in the morning?”

george genuinely was curious as to how raline looked like she was smiling without actually smiling. like her face was expressionless and rather cold but she radiated warm, friendly, welcoming persona he didn’t want to look away from. heck, george thought he couldn’t do so if he’d wanted to. was it her eyes? was it her pursed lips?

in fact, raline exuded an aura that only made george want to spill everything that had been wrenching his mind and heart to the table. unfiltered, uncensored. the f1 driver didn’t think he could hold himself altogether any longer and frankly, he didn’t want to anymore.

the revelation horrified him, however, for he had never encountered such a feeling towards a stranger he’d only met less than two days. towards a stranger he’d only met several days after he found his ex-girlfriend cheated on him. towards a stranger he’d only met when the wound was still fresh open. towards a stranger who shared the same kind of experience with him. towards a stranger who escaped her own pain back home. towards a stranger who also had too much already on a plate.

his heart clenched more at the thought he’d only impose more disturbances to her healing process. the meanest thing one can do to others, for him, is to impose more on other people than they can receive. the meanest thing george can do to raline was to impose her with his selfish desire that he couldn’t control in the first place.

“coffee’s wonderful,” george pulled himself away from his reverie, realising raline was waiting for his response. he reciprocated her small smile, however his was bittersweet and his insides churned at the guilt because he knew she didn’t deserve his half-hearted ass attempt to conceal his feelings. “is there milk in the fridge?”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“where have you been?”

“what the fuck!” george jumped in his place at raline’s voice, almost closing the fridge door on his fingers. “can you stop being creepy?!”

“you’d hear me asking you three times already if your airpods wasn’t blocking my voice.”

raline shrugged from where she sat on the floor, her body leaning towards the coffee table in the middle of the living room as she scribbled down something. she looked nonchalant doing so, but george could see a glint of mischief on her eyes as she did so. three days later, and he could figure out she entertained herself by surprising george whenever she could—god knows how she could know when and where he was coming from. george was almost convinced she was actually a psychic devouring a woman’s body as a disguise.

“well the other time we were in the market, i wasn’t wearing anything in my ears and you still snuck up on me,” george opened up the fridge again, remembering what he was planning to grab a bottle of water before raline scared his wits. “care to explain that?”

“you were busy with your fans, were you not?” suddenly raline sounded angry and george couldn’t help but turn around his body, afraid of what he said might be perceived wrong. she didn’t even spare a look at him as she crumpled away the paper she was scribbling on earlier before she threw it away with full force. the poor paper hit the wall before it crippled away lifelessly on the ground, joining a dozen of other papers who’d faced her earlier wrath. “anyway, where were you?”

the return of her normal, gentle voice sent george into a whirlwind. was this woman possessed or something? if he was, he’d nail the coffin on his raline-is-a- psychic theory. “i was out running. need to do my daily 10k, that’s all.”

“10k? impressive,” raline looked up from the blank white sheet to look at george. her eyes went wider and rounder as she realized he was only wearing tight biker suits. george managed to catch her turning slightly pink before she turned away, choosing the boring paper was a better view than his running attire. “how do you that daily without passing out?”

“well, i’m an athlete,” the blush wasn’t fading out anytime soon, george could conclude as much, so he decided it was payback time. he settled down right beside her on the floor, so close their knees were touching and she could silently feel his breath on the back of her ear, overlooking what she was doing. “i’ve been doing that since i was a kid.”

the drop on george’s baritone sent shivers all over raline’s body so she decided to distract herself by drawing some more architecture designs. “what kind of athlete are you?”

“f1 driver,” no, no, no, please don’t get any closer. but as they said, the more you wished for it, the more God wouldn’t have it your way. raline could feel his skin—or what she thought was his skin—brushing featherly against the shell of her ear. “what kind of artist are you?”

“i—um—i’m no artist,” raline had to gulp down her nerves before she choked on it. unluckily, while doing so, the scent of his body odour protruded her sense and she had to close her eyes to gather herself. a mix of sweat, English cold wind and morning sun, his cologne, and his natural body odour. since when he could affect her like this? “i’m an architect, actually.”

“an architect? impressive,” she could feel the tip of george’s nose moving along to the hairs towards the back of her neck and she had to grip the pencil on her hand so she could focus on something. “how does it feel to have a brain as sexy as you?”

shit. george really went to nuzzle back towards her collarbone, tracing the long horizontal bone, ever so painstakingly slowly. “how does it feel to ride a car as sexy as you?”

oh, how much george loved a banter. he chuckled against the soft skin, discreetly inhaling the Chanel hair mist she sprayed on while feeling the hairs standing up all over her body at the sensation his teeth gave as they grazed the skin. “i bet you it’s sexier when you ride me on instead.”

she released a shaky breath as george planted a hand on her exposed thigh at the end of his sentence, thanks to the oversized sweater she always wore to sleep. “george…”

as much as george enjoyed getting his payback, he didn’t expect he enjoyed enticing these kinds of reactions out of raline. she was always beautiful since the first time he laid his eyes on her but nothing beat the prettiest sight of raline aroused and gaping lightly for air under his hands’ demonstration. it didn’t help to his pride that getting this out of her only from his nose and hands, imagine how she’d be when he poured his all in.

fuck. raline was turning more and more like an addictive aphrodisiac on him.

fuck. this was why he tried to stay out of the house whenever he could. he ran 10k, he set milestones on his biking distance, he drove back and forth to the mercedes training centre down south, he trained in the local gym, he ate his lunch—ironically, the one raline always managed to pack the night before he went out to the mercedes building in the morning—at random parks on the way home. hell, he even tended cara’s plants and flowers on the backyard even though he had the shittiest hands out of all his family, just minimize his interaction to raline.

raline, in one way or another, was cara’s guest, hence he should treat a guest with outmost respect. and his father taught him to treat woman as they’re their worth.

but jesus christ, may the lord help him.

it’s because george knew raline was worth golden, it was very difficult for him to hold back. not when he knew now she could be puny under his hands, not when he knew now how her body reacted to him, not when he knew now that while she didn’t exactly say no, she was more than welcoming of his advances.

to top it all off, not when he knew in the first place he was worthy of her.

it’s always the forbidden fruit that’s so tempting, no?

but maybe, he hadn’t been selfish enough all his life for everything he truly wanted.

just as george was about to channel his inner adam, his phone’s ringtone splashed a tsunami to their faces. george pulled away and dashed out of the house as if his life depended on it.

well, maybe not his life, but certainly for his inner peace and sanity.

#george russell #gr63 #george russell imagine #george russell fic #george russell one shot #george russell fanfic #george russell x reader #george russell fluff #george russell smut #george russell angst #george russell drabble #george russell x you #oh-saints writes

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franklysainz · 1 month

Text

LOST IN THE PADDOCK.

MV1 X FEM!READER

summary getting lost in the paddock and bumping into the current world champion was definitely not on your bingo card.

cw amara is the only oc, no use of y/n. this is my first time writing rpf since middle school, so bear with me. ALSO, this is a work of fiction: i don't know these people irl, i don't know how they act. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

face claims girls on pinterest but you can obviously disregard them, and imagine whoever you want.

masterlist | taglist

—

"Ah, fuck," you mumble to yourself, panickedly walking away from the direction you came from while also looking for your best friend.

You call her name a few times in hopes of her popping her head out of the Ferrari building's corner but to no avail. The group and guides you had been with are nowhere to be found, and you have to avoid bumping into employees wearing the entire rainbow as they hurry around you.

You curse the moment you decided to enter the giveaway for those tickets. Although you weren't a Formula One fan, simply because you never fully listened to Amara's ramblings and analysis, when you stumbled across a giveaway of otherwise very expensive tickets, you didn't hesitate to enter it. Despite entering for her, you kept it a secret. The list of entries was long, and the odds were not in your favour, so you didn't want to get her hopes up. You couldn't contain the bubbling excitement when you got the e-mail verifying your win for two Paddock Club tickets for the Spanish Grand Prix.

After announcing it to your obsessed-with-cars best friend, you decided to make it a five-day trip, planning to sightsee Barcelona before the race weekend and spend a free day after it. The first day had been great, albeit tiring, but you had woken up the next day buzzing with anticipation to walk around the paddock. You were the assigned photographer, as you knew Amara would want to listen to everything the guide said. You were content with taking pictures of the place and her.

Until now. You were definitely not happy with being the camera guy. Because of that, you'd just lost your group in the middle of God-knows-where, with no idea where the building you came from was. So immersed in your grumbling and reading the map on your phone- you collide with someone. Your phone and water bottle slip from your fingers, and the tote bag slips from your shoulder to your elbow. You hiss at the sudden weight shift.

The smell of rich cologne enters your nostrils, but you don't dare look up. Your cheeks burn. "Sorry." You bend down to grab your things.

The man seems to have the same idea, as seconds later, he's on his knees and gathering his things before you can reach them. "No, it's alright! I wasn't looking where I was going."

He extends his full hands with a smile, and you return a sheepish one before grabbing your things. You take a second to look at him. He wears a Red Bull cap and T-shirt, looking like everyone who hurriedly passed you with papers and phones in their hands. I should ask him for directions. He looks like he knows the place.

"Uh...Is there any way you saw a group of people with guides walking around here? I'm supposed to be with them, but I kinda lost them." You lift the camera, further explaining why you're separated from them.

He can't help but chuckle at your flushed cheeks. "Unfortunately, no," he pauses. "Are you here for the weekend?" You nod. "Haven't they given you a map, then? They usually do, to avoid people getting lost."

You show him your phone. Your fingers brush as he pulls it closer to look at the map. "Yeah, they have. But I can't figure it out. Kind of my first time coming to something like this."

He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to the phone. "Really?" He sounds surprised. He shouldn't.

You looked out of place compared to the rich-as-fuck members of your group. You had no idea how people dressed for these occasions. Even Amara didn't really know what to pack, so you both agreed to wear comfortable clothes. With the race being during June and in Spain, you would rather be comfortable than sweaty. The only thing tying you to the group was the Paddock Club pass you wore around your neck.

"My best friend is really into this. Loves the sport. I won us the tickets, but I'm barely grasping the basics." You laugh, and he joins. You like the way his eyes crease when he smiles wide.

"Oh, you're the ones that won the tickets! Someone told me about that, I think. Congrats!" You thank him. "How's your weekend so far?"

You shrug. "T'was really fun. Until I got lost while taking pictures of the Ferrari building." He snorts.

Leaning next to him, you try to follow his finger as he scrolls around the zoomed-in map. "You figured it out yet?"

"I think I have, yeah." He shows you the phone. "We're here. The garages are right there. You'll be watching the race on the floor above them." You nod, slowly grasping your surroundings. Turns out it's easier to figure it out when you're not panicking and a handsome stranger is helping you. "You got it?"

You flash a bright smile. "Yeah, actually, I think I do!" You look at him. "Thank you!"

He shrugs. "No problem. I know it's easy to get lost, especially with so many people running around."

"Still. Thank you. You probably have to be somewhere, and I took up a lot of your time." You step back, turning in the direction he'd shown you.

"Don't worry about it." He fixes his hair under the cap.

"Thanks again." You wave and turn to leave.

"Hey, I forgot to ask you." You turn, confused. "What team are you supporting tomorrow?"

Oh, shit.

It's like a deer caught in headlights situation. You suddenly forget all ten names of the racing teams, desperately racking your brain for an answer. You swear you know all ten.

"Uh..." you nervously clench and unclench your water bottle. "Ferrari?" It's more of a question rather than a statement.

He laughs, and your cheeks return to their warm state. Bad answer?

"Ferrari?" He asks as if saying really? You shrug, and he huffs a laugh.

"I told you I'm not good at this!"

You hear a shout and simultaneously turn to see a man in a Red Bull shirt beckoning him over.

"I have to go. But you should watch out for the Red Bulls. I hear they got the better cars!" He winks and waves before walking away from you.

You roll your eyes and smile wide on your lips. Of course, he'd tell you to cheer for his team. The back of your hand touches your cheek. It's incredibly warm. You blame it on the hot weather.

—

"I'm telling you, mate! She had no idea who I was!"

Lando rolls his eyes. "And I'm telling you there's no way. Your face is plastered everywhere."

It's Charles's turn to roll his eyes. "Or maybe she was more worried about finding a way back than asking for pictures."

"Yeah, maybe she was being polite. Didn't want to attract any attention to you." Albon adds.

Max shrugs. "I don't know."

"Was she pretty?" Oscar elbows Lando's ribs, as the latter can't contain his giggle.

Max's neck flushes. He shrugs again. "Yeah, I guess."

"Ohhhhh!" George and Lando pat him on the back teasingly, and Charles laughs at Max's expression.

Before they can tease him about this mystery girl more, a woman wearing a headset informs them they have to part ways and get ready for qualifying.

—

"And Fernando was so bloody nice, too! He was more than happy to sign the cap for you!" Amara waved her hands excitedly as she recounted everything you missed while lost.

You sat near the windows overlooking the pits, watching as the teams got their cars ready for qualifying, far away from the TVs and the crowded tables, not wanting to converse with anyone but your best friend. You chewed on your extremely expensive pasta, intently listening to her meet-up with some of the drivers.

"I can't believe you met the only driver I know," you whined, lips pouting sadly.

"I swear I didn't realise you were gone until they stopped us to greet the drivers. I was fully into that tyre explanation the guide was giving."

"Gee, thanks." You smile, giving her the middle finger.

"Oh, you know I don't mean it like that. Without you, I wouldn't even be doing the stuff we did today." Amara pulls on your middle finger, and you both giggle.

"So, tell me what you did when you were alone," she urges, sipping her drink.

"You mean when you left me wandering like I was looking for my mother?" She gives you a pointed look. You shrug. "I stopped a Red Bull guy to give me directions. He was helpful and cute. Also took some pictures while I was making my way back here."

"Oh, was he a mechanic or what?"

"I don't know. Didn't catch his name." You smile as you recount his advice. "He told me to look out for the Red Bulls because they have fast cars."

"Well, he's not wrong."

You finish your food and drinks, chatting until qualifying is about to begin. You sit on the balcony, watching the cars drive on the track. You get settled, watching the small screen in front of you, commentary loud in the headset you wear. Qualifying goes by quickly, with Amara explaining things you don't understand and you nodding along.

It's no surprise—in Amara's words—that Max Verstappen came first in his Red Bull. He's the one dominating this season, after all. Second comes Carlos Sainz, and third place takes Lando Norris. Your best friend cheers a little more for him. You shoot her a look, and she just shrugs. "What? He's fast, and he's handsome." You laugh.

You decide to leave before others, not stick around for post-qualifying interviews. Although there's a great chance you can catch drivers, take pictures and get them to sign autographs, you're both far too exhausted to stay. There's always tomorrow, Amara says, and you agree.

You're looking through the Uber app to find a car available to take you back to your hotel when you hear Amara all but screech beside you. You look up, watching as she runs towards a wall decorated with a gigantic poster of three drivers. You recognise Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc and...Oh, shit.

"Can you take a picture here," she calls your name pleadingly.

Your eyes are wide and glued to the tall poster, even as you pull the camera up to your face. You snap a couple of pictures before Amara walks back to you. Her wide smile falters as she watches you stare at the poster intensely. You rack your brain for his name and know that you should know it. Amara has mentioned it before, but you just can't put your finger on it. He's in Red Bull, so it's either Checo Perez or—

"Is that Verstappen?" You point to him.

"Yep. Two-time world champion." Amara looks at the poster and then back at you, eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you looking at him like that?"

"He's the guy from earlier."

"What?!"

—

yourusername

liked by amaraiscool, yourmom, and 167 others.

tagged amaraiscool

yourusername chatted with a guy today, turns out he's the current world champion.

view all comments

amaraiscool i can't believe you met max verstappen

> yourusername amaraiscool i cant believe you let me get lost

amaraiscool and i can't believe you didnt recognise him.

> yourusername amaraiscool hes cuter in person, too bad you didn't get to see him :))

yourfriend1 THE DRESS IS SO CUTE, AMARA WTF DROP THE STORE!!!!!!

liked by yourusername

yourfriend2 johns freaking out rn lol

> yourusername yourfriend2 AW, i bet hes not being as dramatic as amaraiscool was when i told her :,)

> amaraiscool yourusername met THE max verstappen.

—

"You should totally text him," Amara says between bites.

She offers you a piece of chocolate, and you offer her a bewildered look. The hotel room's TV is playing a random spanish show, but with no subtitles, you can barely grasp what they're saying. Amara is scrolling on TikTok beside you.

"Text who?" You already know who.

"The two-time world champion. Duh." She rolls her eyes.

Amara hadn't stopped talking about the Max interaction since you'd pointed at his gigantic poster. The more she spoke on it, wiggling her eyebrows, the more you blushed. She had gone over a thousand scenarios, all of which you ended up hooking up with him. You had to remind her that despite his popularity, he was a stranger to you.

"I don't have his number, 'mara. I told you he just helped me find my way."

She flicks your forehead. "That's what Insta is for!"

"No."

"But why!?" Amara whines in your ear loudly, like a child when you take their candy away.

"It's weird! He's cute and all," you sit up, pointing your finger up," but he doesn't know my name," you put another one up, "he'll think I'm creepy," you point a third one, "and that is if he sees the requested message."

"Uh, you're ruining my scenario-building process."

"That's what Tumblr is for. Leave my quiet, boring life out of this." You dramatically sigh.

"Isn't that how all fanfiction starts? Boring and quiet life turned upside down?" Amara tilts her head.

"I don't know, 'ave never read any." You shrug, lips pursing.

She huffs a laugh, and you hold in yours. "Liar."

There's a pause. You think over Amara's suggestion. Max Verstappen is cute. And it wouldn't hurt to try and get his number. You'd never see him again after this weekend. And the worst he could say is: "Security, please get her out of here!"

What the fuck am I thinking? He's a literal superstar. Me bumping into him was a one-time thing.

Ah, fuck it. It's not the end of the world.

"You know what?" Amara turns to look at you. "If I get the chance tomorrow, I'll talk to him. Try and get his number."

Her eyes almost pop out of their sockets. "What?"

"I mean, I'm never seeing again? Right? It could go either way. He doesn't call for security to escort me like I'm crazy fangirl, or he does, and we pray no cameras recorded the moment."

Amara shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, but she can barely hold her wide smile. "Sounds like a plan to me."

"Not much of a plan. I'm just indulging in your delusions."

You share a laugh before you fall back in bed beside her. You shuffle closer to your best friend's side, eager to watch the TikTok edit she is staring intensely at.

"Oh, look, it's your future boyfriend!"

"Shut up."

1K notes · View notes

beiasluv · 7 months

Text

forbidden fruit | Charles Leclerc

a/n: new to the f1 communityy 😬 apologies for any term or idea i got wrong. female!reader. no proofread! enjoyy 🤍

summary: the princess of mercedes and the prince of ferrari, what could possibly go wrong?

“y/n! y/n! she’s in her last turn! leclerc’s trailing behind! can he do an over take?”

splashing champagnes and listening to the dutch national anthem were never your favorite of winning a podium, but who cares?

you were on P3 and charles leclerc was not.

perhaps retelling the story of your rivalry with the monégasque driver would take a whole frustrating, aggravating, and lengthy year for us to get through; and perhaps it was for the best to leave it where it is, never to be touched, but to reminisce with a needle of cringeness poking through your heart.

although an honorable mention to verstappen, for taking the lead role of leclerc’s personal favorite rival.

it was all an inchident, of course.

smirking back to the driver in a flashing, scuderia ferrari, red fire suit, you could only feel your ego bubbling to the top of your throat. charles leclerc was staring. and staring hard. what a shame you couldn’t even take out your phone and take a snippet of his raging glance. what a fun sight for the whole news headlines to see.

‘charles leclerc, envy and jealousy…’

of course, he couldn’t lash it out. how could he? would the handsome, young, and talented ferrari driver want to ruin his reputation in the media? obviously, not.

of course, you knew it all too well. every day you wake up with the tip of a knife, aiming at your throat, ready to nick you anytime you take a wrong step on the luxurious path of an f1 driver. being the only female driver on the grid makes your life a thousand times more challenging.

but who were you to be a nitpick?

the media loves drama. we all do. perhaps it was a little bit more entertaining to see what you are wearing when the races had gone wrong. what hairstyle were you wearing for the big race? or, maybe, just which driver you were dating on the grid this season?

never once you could escape the dating questions or all the bullshit misogynistic attitudes from the journalists, press, media, and, well, …you name it.

perhaps you have to give it to leclerc for never going easy on you just because you are of a different gender.

“congratulations on P3, y/n,” max turned towards you and gave you a pat on the shoulder; simultaneously, bringing you back to reality.

“t- thanks.”

—

“you win this one, l/n.”

he took off his helmet, and clutched it loosely to his side. the cheeky smirk plastered on his face. the eyes searched for the depth of yours.

only you knew how much pain it was for him to force his lips to create such a soft and fake smile for the thousand camera lenses, waiting to catch the two rivals lacking. bumping into leclerc after the race, fresh and full of adrenaline, alone in the hallway of the track was never an enjoyable experience to endure.

“good race, leclerc,” you muttered out as many PR and drivers walked past you two.

“same to you.”

what a shame your PR manager ushered you out for the media room before you two could give a shot of throwing hands - elegantly, of course.

—

“good work on the qualifying round, l/n. return to the garage. over.”

“copy that,” you tapped your headset, notifying the engineer of the prestigious mercedes team.

driving for mercedes in f1 could count as your biggest dream since the karting days. and the race won against ferrari was a - personal - success.

slowing your baby down, and pressing the brake mechanism of the car, you came to a halt as the friction overpowered the tires. one or two seconds later, you could hear the mercedes team rushing and scurrying over to your parked position to collect you back to the mothership.

“take her back, guys!”

the screaming of your fans nearby erupted as you ascended out from the cramped space of your f1 seat. taking your helmet off, and waving to them; you gracefully jumped down from the car and headed towards the mercedes headquarters.

a long walk, but who are you to make a fuss?

an f1 driver should have no problem walking a couple of miles. oh but how annoyingly a group of fans quickly crowded over you and blocked your ways…red flags, horses, and charles leclerc faces. clearly, you knew whose fans they were.

fussing, grabbing, and pulling, you were harassed, unfortunately. autographs, hats, pictures, postcards, and questionable stuff were pushed into your face.

“y/n! please! sign my shirt!” “get the hell away from charles!”

“charles deserved p3 today!” “l/n!! l/n! say hi to my dad! he loves you!”

trying to fulfill all of their requirements, you realized you had found yourself in the sea of scuderia ferrari fans. it is an unspoken fact that you were the rival of charles leclerc; you could say some fans were more enthralled by that fact than others.

“y/n! what do you think about charles? are you guys dating?”

sometimes you hate technology. the cameras pointing at you reminded me of the knife you carry mentally with you every day. it could gain you thousands of thousands of likes in a few tiktoks or perhaps get ready to say goodbye to your f1 position.

“…we’re not talking. in any complicate way,” smiling through the pain you signed the cap that was shoved into your face. gosh, mercedes. where was your security?

your patience could only last so much until one fan decided it was worth it to grab your hand and pull you down for an instagram-worthy photo. and he possibly thought the best way to execute it was to, firstly, seize your waist. how thoughtful of him.

“fuc- please don’t-”

“y/n! i love you!”

man-child was not having it. sweaty and clammy hands could send chills down your spine if you didn’t know.

“please-”

smile through the pain. smile through the pain. it was all part of the job, at the end of the day. the fans still won and you were just a doll for f1. breathe in, breathe out.

he pulled his iphone 7 out of his pocket, painfully slow; slower than the ferrari’s pitstops. his side was squished to yours. the cologne, the smell, the sensory, everything-

“hey, hands off.”

you could say it was the first time you were glad to see charles leclerc from your entire life; wearing his race suit sluttily around his waist. leclerc - being leclerc - stunned his fans, leaving a big hole in the crowd around you.

he was reaching out for your waist; surprisingly, in a way you were pleased, and pulled you out of the red crowd. and just like magic, the security came rushing in and ushered the mob of fans away from the scene.

wearing that stunned face of yours, you regained consciousness and your rival emotions. clearing your already cleared throat, charles took it as a signal to let go of your waist. how suddenly you realized it was all happening over the armor of your fire suit.

thank god.

“..thanks”

“no need to thank me,” the competitive tone made its way through his annoying lips again. scoffing, he looked at you with his hand clutching his helmet by his side, “i don’t understand why they need to adore you this much.”

how rude.

“for the record, they are your fans, leclerc,” you scoffed offendedly, and your hand found its natural place on your chest; clutching for dramatic effect.

“what did i do to deserve such loyal fans, l/n…” not even looking at you he smirked under his nose. “they shouldn’t be acting this way, no?”

he looked over at you, seeing you in your distressed state and a chuckle left his lips. the cameras settled on the stands far away in the distance and stared at you two, they were definitely on.

shit.

this is going to end up in the headlines.

—

“check out your new title…” your manager cleared his throat as you nervously waited.

“you can’t just leave me hanging here!”

placing your phone in your lap your hands returned to the comfort of the steering wheel. twisting and turning, you maneuvered your mercedes inside the driver's garage.

“calm the fuck down! i’m pulling out the source for accuracy,” you swore you could see your manager rolling his eyes. “wait for it…‘charles to the rescue. mercedes and ferrari, love or rivalry?’”

“shut up.”

“i can send you the links.”

“please don’t,” you sighed as you looked over your shoulder to slide into the parking lot like a distinguished f1 driver. “…the devil works hard, but the media works harder, or what?”

“we could use a little PR for mercedes, y’know?” the crackled chuckle left your phone.

please.

“the signal is shit in the parking lot, i’ll see you at the paddock. bye.”

“alright, be quick.”

gathering your bag and phone, you checked your face one last time in the rearview mirror and opened the car door. unfortunately, the infamous ferrari entered the parking lot with its signature roars, as you stepped out of your car.

the devil had worked hard once again. walking to your trunk, you kicked it open and snatched some of your essential stuff for the race. and who would’ve thought charles leclerc could park his car in under 20 seconds?

not to mention, it wasn’t straight. (oops)

getting out of his car, he checked his hair and fixed his shirt. obviously, aware of the paparazzi lurking around the track’s garage for the big day, and hoping to sell a couple of pics for something a little more than a couple of bucks. perhaps an even better price for them if they caught you and your rival having a ‘friendly’ chat.

don’t get close to him. don’t get close to him.

“what a coincidence,” leclerc approached your mercedes as he locked his ferrari with its infamous beeping.

“how so?”

smirking back at him, you slammed your trunk closed and shut off; locking your car in the same manner. catching the glimpse of his eyes you made it your personal goal to escape him as fast as you could possibly can.

flicking your head away and taking off, the path inside the track was as empty as you hoped it could be.

“slow down, i just wanna talk.”

“leclerc.”

“you walk too fast,” you swore if you looked back and he is grinning. “you trying to escape from me?”

fuck.

“got a problem with that, leclerc?”

his dark green eyes met yours after you decided the risk was below the ‘manageable’ level to turn around.

“no,” he grinned at you. how you wish you could smack it off of his face. “i jus’ want some company while walking to the track, no?”

company, my ass.

clearing his throat, he looked at you, “you’re a pretty good rival though.”

gaining a nod and a smirk from you leclerc was cut short of his run time as his PR manager came to collect him to the ferrari garage. how sad. his messy hair, the confidential wave, and two eyes met yours one last time before you decided to head to the mothership of your mercedes headquarters.

big trouble, y/n. big trouble.

—

“y/n, we neeed to talk.”

the paddock was usually quiet upstairs, all the mechanics and engineers spent their time in garage down below. only toto, george, lewis, your manager, and their managers, and - obviously - you would spend time up here. also. is every private manager in the world annoyingly scary and friendly at the same time or what?

sitting down next to you on the black sofa of the mercedes headquarters by the pitch, you were face-to-face with your lovely manager.

clearing your nonexistent anxiety, “…yes?”

“look…the media is starting to notice your relationship with charles…”

“and..?”

“and,” he crossed his arms, “we need to work on keeping this situation private…it could affect your reputation. maybe after the soft launch phase is over, you can publicize it…if you want to, obviously.”

the fuck?

“…what are your thoughts?”

he looked into your face, not a single thought behind it. somehow the racetrack outside the notoriously big, shiny window of the mercedes paddock suddenly gained your attention, and he restored to snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“what-? oh right- for fuck’s sake! we’re not in a relationship!”

“and what about those paparazzis’ pictures? I thought we agreed on sharing every ‘public’ detail about your life with me?”

“first of all, privacy. second of all. you believe that?! anthony! you’re my manager, i would’ve told you if i was dating a ferrari driver!” grabbing a quick breath,

“do you think i want to date the reddest of all flags on the grid?!”

“yeah? but that’s not the impression the media got,” he said. “even max! max verstappen thought-”

“who cares what max thinks!” you thrown your head back on the sofa.

“PR could be good, but we don’t know if it’s going to blacklash-”

george russell. he walked up to you two arguing on the black sofa and smirked at you; clearly, he heard your talks about ‘the reddest of all flags on the grid.’

“shut your mouth, russell,” sighing sarcastically as you could and you turned to your manager, who was having the time of his life.

“I’m not saying anything,” he raised his hands defensively, grinning the shit out of the corners of his mouth.

“I’m a driver, not a play doll you could match-make for the team’s reputation. hell. doesn’t charles have a girlfriend?”

anthony pulled out his phone and scrolled through ‘something,’ “yes…charles…has a girlfriend, PR relationship?”

“what do you mean?”

putting his phone away, “doesn’t matter. but what the media care about is to get a story out of nothing.”

“…and?”

“you have a reputation of being a private figure, and you're an expert in keeping it that way. we just need to do that until the end of the season.”

george chuckled sarcastically, "she seems angry at us, guys.”

“i am. and i’m not dating anyone for mercedes. done,” you stood up from the sofa and beelined towards the door. “also. i’m telling toto.”

and someone finally heard you this time. the whole room’s atmosphere seemed to tense up as someone entered the door.

toto wolff.

“is there a problem, y/n?” toto asked as george smirked at the unfolding situation.

you swung your head towards the origin of the sound and cleared your throat, “your employee, mr. wolff, is trying to matchmake me with a ferrari driver.”

toto chuckled.

toto chuckled?

“so there is something between you and charles?” he raised his eyebrow at you. expectedly, george was holding his laughter in for his dear life.

“why does everyone thinks that we’re dating?! even toto?!”

“so you’re not dating leclerc?”

“no!”

congratulations. you have successfully crashed onto the sofa once again, groaning your pain out.

“she’s lying,” george chimed in.

“I. am. not.”

how surprising that george’s back kissed the sofa as you tackled him jokingly down. a moment of silence for toto to watch many of his best drivers tackle each other like it’s a normal day in kindergarten.

“are you sure you are not dating, leclerc?”

last straw. you clutched your bag and left george dysfunctional on the couch. walking past the room, you glanced back one last time and said with the best sarcasm, “i’m not. and I’m not dating him for mercedes. done! I’m a driver, not a doll!”

slamming the door shut, you headed for your private driver’s room.

"she's angry at us…” george chuckles nervously; obviously, with a hint of joy.

“no shit sherlock”

—

edit: part 2

part 2?? reblog, like, whatever the heck you want would be appreciated 😘

today’s a great day to take care of yourself, lots of luv 🤍

2K notes · View notes

twobluejeans · 9 months

Text

HEARTBREAK ON TOUR!

charles leclerc x famous!reader

summary: in which the lavender haze has been lifted. or in which america’s it couple splits.

part 7: revenge dress, part 6: reckless, part 5: relevancy, part 4: emo ponytail girl, part 3: dupeee, part 2:wtf does ET know?, part 1: don’t start

faceclaim: madison beer

ally’s radio 📻: PART 7! bc why did this take me 2 days to make. da faq. a lot of tswift references 🫶

INSTAGRAM, july 15

liked by harrystyles, austinbutler, and 26,955,959 others

yourinstagram and by the way, i’m going out tonight.

View all 357,728 comments

sabrinacapenter R U KIDDING ME???

badgalriri go bad bitch go bad bitch go

1dstyles.harry harry i see u lurking 👀

user1 she don’t know she need me yet

arianagrande MOTHER IS MOTHERING

barbie this barbie is THAT GIRL

leclerc_pascale Beautiful Girl!❤️

yourinstagram leclerc_pascale thank you ❤️

alexademie 😍😍

user2 they won’t love you like i would

omarapollo come home the kids miss u

y/nsdeadreputaion i know charles is crying in the corner rn

(landonorris liked this comment !)

danielricciardo May God bless the dinosaur that died to make the fossil fuel that was treated to become petrol in the car that took your mom to hospital to give birth to you

yourinstagram danielriccoardo i hate you 😭💀

danielricciardo yourinstagram Don’t lie, You know you love me

fernandoalonso_offical danielricciardo No. Stop it.

written by Ally

July 15,2023 AT 1:30PM

Y/n L/n is rarely seen walking the streets in public anymore, but that is changing following her recent breakup from longtime love Charles Leclerc.

The 12-time Grammy winner was spotted out and about in Rome just one day after her release of her new single, Reckless, which reflects on her past relationship with the formula 1 driver.

L/n was joined by celebs friends Zendaya, Tom Holland, Sabrina Carpenter, Bella Hadid, and Alexa Demie for a night out at Shari Vari Play House in Vía de' Nari, Italy.

The news of her breakup sent shockwaves on social media. Tweets and memes were made, with fans expressing their disbelief and grief

Rumors had already spread that Leclerc was seeing someone else the last few months of thosr relationship. L/n just made those rumors official last night as she delivered a tribute to Leclerc and his new girlfriend Australian Youtuber Lola Ransdell, sending the media to a frenzy.

The “Karma” hitmaker opted for a dress from Mônot’s SS22 collection, a black dress with cutouts across the chest and stomach, leaving little fabric between L/n’s collarbone and lower waist.

People on twitter are already calling this “Y/n L/n’s Revenge Dress Era” .

"Not @Y/nL/n wearing Y/n’s Version of 'the revenge dress'," one fan posted.

The ultimate revenge dress is, of course, the off-the-shoulder black Christina Stambolian dress that Princess Diana wore while her former husband then-Prince Charles was admitting to an affair with current Queen Consort Camilla.

Diana, Princess of Wales attends the Vanity Fair party at the Serpentine Gallery on November 20, 1994 Anwar Hussein

L/n kicked off her sold-out Eras Tour on March 17, and eagle-eyed fans noticed that Leclerc had been absent from her shows.

In case you're unfamiliar with the lore of YourShipName (portmanteau and couple name of L/n and Leclerc), you probably don't understand the distress caused by the news. For most, Leclerc is not even a household name, but for YourFandomsName, he's the titular Lover.

via @yourinstagram in a now deleted instagram post

The Midnights singer and f1 driver started dating in 2016. Fans speculate they met at the 2016 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix based on the lyrics of Reputation cut "Dress": "Flashback to when you met me / Your buzzcut and my hair bleached." Because, you guessed it, Leclerc sported a buzzcut and L/n’s hair was bleached.

At a secret session for Reputation, Leclerc reportedly told fans that the single "Gorgeous" was about her "angel boyfriend of one year." Other tracks off of Reputation like “Delicate," "Call It What You Want," and "King Of My Heart" are also thought to be about Leclerc.

Her next album, Lover, is also understood to be about Leclerc with songs like "Paper Rings," "Cornelia Street," "Daylight," and the titular "Lover."

During quarantine the couple started collaborating creatively. Leclerc surpassed his muse status and co-wrote Folklore tracks "Exile" and "Betty,"

Evermore songs "Champagne Problems" and "Coney Island, and most recently, "Sweet Nothing" off Midnights. Other tracks on her most recent three albums canonically about Leclerc include: "Invisible String" and "Peace."

While they opted to remain very private about their romance, the couple was hit with a slew of engagement rumors throughout the course of their ill-fated romance.

"I'm aware people want to know about that side of things," Leclerc told GQ in 2018. "I think we have been successfully very private and that has now sunk in for people."

L/n briefly touched on the privacy aspect of their relationship in her 2020 documentary, "Miss Americana."

"We decided together we wanted our relationship to be private," she said. "Even though [my public image in 2016] was really horrible, I was happy."

"But I wasn't happy in the way I was trained to be happy. It was happiness without anyone else's input. We were just... happy," the singer added.

The "Lavender Haze" songstress' exes famously include Leonardo DiCaprio, Robert Pattinson, Fabian Frankel, Ben Barnes, Harry Styles, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson.

SEE MORE RELATED POSTS:

• From Y/n L/n and Charles Leclerc to Sofia Vergara and Joe Manganiello, Here are all the Celebirty breakups of 2023…So far

• Leonardo DiCaprio, Gigi Hadid Are 'Definitely Dating' (Exclusive Source)

• Carlos Sainz Shares his thoughts on YourShipName’s Breakup

TWITTER, july 15

INSTAGRAM, july 15

liked by kendalljenner, haileybieber, and 2,674,123 others

lolaaransdell_ couldn’t be bothered

View all 32,177 comments

user5 someone pls take away her phone i’m so serious

y/nsleclerc god has lots of favorites🥰💞🧚🏽you’re not one of them🥺💘💘

haileybieber the hottest ❤️❤️

badgerdannyricc you hit different 😍when you’re not on my screen 🧚‍♀️💞✨

cillianmurphyfineaf u killed this 💞🦋!🧚🏽now do the same for urself🙈🥰⚡️

charles16_leclerc this is just embarrassing stop

auzziericciardo i don’t like you but ur blush and highlight looks really good

norissxricciardo my daughter said she loved your videos! 😩💗✨ so i put her up for adoption 😽☁️🌺

INSTAGRAM STORIES, july 16

yourinstagram 4h

viewed by michaelbjordan, lilyrose_depp, and 2,042,828 others

INSTAGRAM, july 16

liked by landonorris, jacobelordi, and 8,667,214 others

yourinstagram it feels like a perfect night to dress up like hipsters & make fun of our exes.

View all 102,421 comments

cinnamongirldelrey oh this is iconic.

queensel the reunion we needed

argentinastyles stop i love selena and y/n together

parisy/n THE CAPTION LMFAOAKSKHDH

charlottesiine Angel sisters for life!!!

yourinstagram charlottesiine my queen i love you!

jarofheartsy/n wait i’m confused who’s the girl on the last pic?

ciney/n jarofheartsy/n charlotte sine, charles’s ex gf 💀

TWITTER, july 16

ally’s radio 📻: DON’T U LOVE WHEN WOMEN. guys im stuck on who to choose for y/n’s next boo. like. so stuck. THIS CAN GO LIKE FOUR WAYS. WE HAVE FOUR OPTIONS AND I KINDA WANNA LET U GUYS PICK BUT ALSO NEED TO KEEP YALL IN SUSPENSE SO LIKE😭 SHARE WITH ME UR THOUGHTS PLS. also, i think i might start a danny ric fanfic next bc that’s bbg.

taglist 🦢🪩: @incoherenciass@dakotali@405rry@topaz125@sassyheroneckgiant@hevburn@itsmytimetoodream@ivegotparticulartaste@crowdedimagines @asterianax @haydee5010@scenesofobx@christinabae@magical-spit@dessxoxsworld@myareadsbooks@honethatty12@hopefulinlove@diasnohibng@gentlemonsterjennie1@hummusxx@eugene-emt-roe@taestrwbrry @perjarma @cxcewg@chimchimjiminie16@glow-ish@allywthsr @millyswife @mrsmaybank13 @black-swan-blog27 @stargaryenx @lilsiz @ohthemisssery @leclerclvr @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @shessthunderstoms @cool-ultra-nerd @ncentic @playboykenz @canvashearts @tinyhrry @xeliaaaa @ifionlywould @gaviypedrisbride @callsignwindow @dhhdhsiavdhaj @chasing-liberosis @laneyspaulding19

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jamminvroomvroom · 1 year

Text

on the weekends.

gr x fem!reader

finally done with the george win smut! sorry it took ages but we made it lol - mentally i am still in brazil. lemme know what you think ily ily ily!!

btw this is not linked to the george fic, this is a standalone! dedicating this one to @wetforwolff and @lovely-leclerc - you asked, you shall receive <3

warnings: 18+!! it’s smut!! bit of fluff, bit of angst, language, alcohol

3.5k words

you’d anticipated this day for as long as you’d known george. he looked like a winner, walked like a winner, talked like a winner. he fucked you like one, too.

back when you were just getting toto his coffee and george was making powerpoints, you knew this day would come. when you were taking on a bigger role and he was dragging the williams into q3, you knew this day would come. when you were finally at the top of the job ladder, draped in merc team kit in the garage every weekend and he was pulling a top five out of the bag every single time he got in the car, you knew this day would come.

you’d been stood in the back of the garage biting your nails, trying not to draw attention to yourself and your nerves. the humidity drove you insane, but not as much as he did. no one needed to know just how close you and george could get after a long weekend, and now wasn’t the time to publicise it. toto was back at the factory, leaving you exposed; usually you’d hide behind him when things heated up on track. you weren’t supposed to care which merc brought it home p1. a win was a win, a one-two was a one-two, and lewis was on the hunt. fair game. you knew you were fucked when you prayed that car number sixty three would come out on top. you knew it was foolish and selfish but a celebratory night in the sheets boded better than a consolation fuck.

a mercedes one-two and a meltdown at redbull rounded off your weekend perfectly. george had done it, just like you knew he would. lewis had pulled off the recovery drive that added more flavour to his greatness. a perfect day in the office, realised by three trophies to tell the tale.

toto was blowing up your phone. you answered, trying to wade through the masses in parc ferme. you lingered by the scales, pressing the big green button on your phone, toto’s face filling the screen, aged by a lacklustre season, masked by the elation of triumph. you beamed as you rambled about data and upgrades and and told him that you’d try and find george. you didn’t need to look much further.

a large hand ghosted over your waist, a shiver running up your spine and back down again. you turned, breath hitching in your throat. he was breathtaking; sweating, blue eyes clouded red, veins prominent in his trembling hands. his hair was a mess, body shaking from the adrenaline and his smile was so wide, so emotional that you almost doubled over. you couldn’t help but stare at him, at the blood, sweat and tears that had made him great. beautiful bastard.

you very rarely felt small in the presence of a man. you refused to, taking up space was the key to survival in your line of work. but for once, you allowed yourself to shrink, to succumb to it, the size of george. the size of success. he looked different, powerful. your thighs clenched.

all he did was stare back at you, a telepathic communication pinging backwards and forwards.

he was going to ruin you, and you were going to let him.

“are you there? hello?” toto grumbled, too excited to be mad at your ignorance towards him.

“oh- um,” you fumbled, thrusting the phone towards george. “it’s for you.” you smiled. his fingers brushed yours in the midst of the transaction and you shivered again. “someone’s very proud of you.” you murmured, eyes never leaving his.

you let your tongue swipe your bottom lip, hoping he knew that amongst all the chaos, you weren’t just talking about toto. it was dangerous to be so obvious in public, you could do that later, on your knees. with toto harping away in the background, george’s eyes darkened; it was too much, the adrenaline and your double meanings. dark blue eyes mentally undressed you, glancing hungrily over your body, and you felt naked in parc ferme. maybe one day you’d let him fuck you in the garage, you thought. perhaps if he won a title.

“i’ll bet.” he mirrored your action and licked his lips, the quickest wink being thrown at you, the most carefree you allowed him to be in public, and he turned his attention to your boss, who was bellowing away like the world’s proudest dad.

tonight was the night. brazil never disappointed.

hours passed, the muggy afternoon blurring into the hazy night. the champagne flowed, as did a few tears, the man of the moment being carried around on anyones shoulders and hosed down with alcohol. the team had craved this, worked for it, earned it. it was a bit like your relationship with george, really.

you couldn’t take your eyes off him, your entire body tingling in anticipation for later. so when it was finally time to go, you tried to slip away, get back to the hotel as quickly as you could. but of course, nothing ever got past george. he was the right amount of tipsy to grab both of your hands in his, right there at the entrance of the hospitality suite, and insist that you just share his ride back. it was stupid, utterly reckless, but you were the right amount of tipsy to accept.

hands intertwined, you stared at each other some more, until someone cleared their throat and you were being ushered out into the exposure of the paddock.

he didn’t let go and you didn’t make him.

he didn’t leave you any time to go back to your hotel room, coaxing you easily straight back to his. the tension between you was suffocating, it had been all afternoon, but nothing beat the journey from the track back to his hotel.

you’d gotten stuck in traffic, just as you always did in são paulo, which sent hands wandering early, carefully hidden from the driver that had the misfortune of picking you up. he trailed his fingers from your knee and up, up, up, occasionally grazing the fabric of your panties. your thighs would snap shut every time he did, your face a flaming shade of red. you looked out the window with wide eyes, trying to mask the urge to roll your hips, and all he did was stare at you, a devilish grin spread across his face.

you’d hurried out of the car, stumbling into the hotel lobby. you both did your worst at pretending that you weren’t tipsy, straight faces wavering as his hand dipped too low on the small of your back. you gave in, foolish, letting yourself lean into his side, giggling up at him with your head rested against his shoulder. your were caught up in the moment, blindsided by lovesickness, as he guided you into the elevator.

your breathing shook, fingers balled up as you tried to resist the cliche make out session in the elevator. it’s as if he could read your mind, pulling one of your hands into his and intertwining your fingers. he didn’t take it any further, not yet, knowing that no matter what the pair of you may have wanted, there was a time and a place. both were rapidly approaching as the lift reached its destination and you were let loose into the corridor. suddenly, nothing was funny anymore. urgency takes over.

down the corridor, force the key into the slot, wait for the green light. your back is against the door the second it’s been slammed shut. you’re used to this, the sudden pounce of him. your relationship survived on stolen moments and hurried touches, rapid pleasure. it was intense and the need for more fuelled you both because once could never be enough. so when he kissed you, it was quick, carrying the force and speed of a race car. you found yourself realising that for once, there wasn’t a flight to catch, or someone just waiting to interrupt, and your hands flew to his face, taking control of the pace. you deepened the kiss, slowing him down and licking your way into his mouth.

he seemed to get the hint, and you felt the slow press of his body moulding against yours as your lips moved together, nice and deep. it was different. your heart grew about ten sizes, on the verge of exploding for him. you moved across the room in some kind of trance, floating to the bed. shoes were kicked off, merc embroidered shirts discarded in a painful reminder of a pile, unidentifiable fingers working in the darkness to undo his trousers, to tug down your skirt. in nothing but your underwear, you tumbled into bed.

you were a mess of touches in the dark, clambering on top of him, his hands finding your hips. he held you tight, close, encouraging the roll of your hips and you sunk into his body. you could make out his face in the dim light, his shadowy features contorting as he lost any remaining scrap of control.

you were on your back in a blink, kisses pressed to your sternum, over the lace of your bra, peppered down your navel. your panties were peeled off, flung behind him onto the floor, instantly forgotten. he’d been waiting to get between your legs all weekend, desperate for you after the sprint, forced to wait by the reality of your jobs. he couldn’t wait any longer, wouldn’t. he slung one of your legs over his shoulder, open mouthed kisses pressed from your knee, all the way down to your inner thigh, as his arm wound its way around your other leg, spreading you open.

he was ready to dive in when you pushed yourself up on your elbows, one hand reaching down to cup his jaw, making him look at you. his eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why you’d stopped him when he could see just how bad you needed him, the way you glistened for him becoming a familiar, welcomed sight.

“george,” you breathed, “supposed to be celebrating you.” all he did was smile at you, leaning in closer to where you were aching.

“couldn’t have done it without you, sweetheart.” and with that, he escaped your hold, licking a stripe through your folds.

you fell back into the sheets, eyes glazing over and quickly squeezing shut. george was messy with it, licking into your cunt with an enthusiasm that had you arching further and further into him. his large hands gripped harder on your thighs, tightening every time you moaned louder. his tongue swirled across your folds, alternating between long laps and featherlight flicks across your clit, the differing sensations having you embarrassingly close already.

“george, stop, i’m gonna cum. want you in me. please.” you begged, warning him of just how close you were to your undoing, desperate to feel him back on top of you.

he didn’t let up for a second, barely even acknowledged you. all he did was stare up at you, amused eyes twinkling through the darkness as he doubled his efforts. all of the sudden, you were numb with pleasure, writhing against the sheets. your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping at the dirty blonde locks so hard that it must of hurt, but just like everything else you threw at him, he seemed to be enjoying it, humming into your pussy as he helped you ride out your orgasm. it all felt too much, too overwhelming; you didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him even closer.

finally the pleasure began to subside, relief washing over you for barely a second before he was pushing two fingers through your folds. his tongue continued to curl against your clit as he slid his fingers inside you. you whined at the overstimulation, grinding your hips to meet his movements.

“george, i can’t-“ you started, panting, only to be cut off.

“you’re gonna keep coming for me, sweetheart. okay?” he told you bluntly, fingers working into you quickly. “do you know why? because i won.” he smirked, “i won and this is my reward.”

you could already feel your second orgasm building, his words along making you shake, his fingers hitting your spot each time with ease. you were dripping all over him, limp from the pleasure, desperate to cum just so that he’d put you out of your misery and fuck you.

“one more for me, yeah? one more, darling, and i’ll stop.” george murmured, thumb brushing over your clit, fingers beginning a deep grind into you.

“please, george.” you whined, eyes blurry with unshed tears.

he kept going, going, going, until you were shaking once more, seeing nothing but white, hips bucking wildly, uncontrollably. he had his mouth back on you, lips wrapped around your clit and his fingers buried inside of you, until he was sure that you were finished. you laid there lifeless, the aftershocks rocking your body while he licked his fingers clean. your mouth parted at the sight, eyes fluttering shut when you felt his lips working across your thigh, to the crease where your leg met your body, up, up, up, until he was hovering over you again.

your fingers interlocked at the nape of his neck, twisting in his hair to pull him close. he kissed you, ferocious, pulling your thigh over his hip to line himself up with your entrance. your mouths fell open as he slipped inside of you, broken moans tumbling from your lips and into his mouth. you could hear his breath stuttering as he sunk deeper and deeper into you, until his hips hit yours.

“how does that feel, darling? being fucked by the race winner?” george groaned lowly, lips skimming the shell of your ear as he spoke. you tightened around him inadvertently, feeling a rush of wetness at his words.

“so good, you’re so good.” you whimpered, absolutely pathetic beneath him. all you could do was give in, let him have his way with you. it’s what you both needed.

“i know, love. i know.” he muttered, his arrogance as he fucked into you making you weaker and weaker. it was obscene, the way his behaviour was such a turn on to you. if any other man dared to speak that way, so unsubtly cocky, you’d roll your eyes and find the nearest exit. but for some reason, when george did it, you were ready to fall to your knees; you got off on seeing him succeed.

“you feel like fucking heaven.” george sighed, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he slammed into you, rhythm never faltering, hard and deep into your dripping cunt. “all i could think about in the car when i crossed that line was you. knew you’d be soaked for me, darling,” he whispered. “knew it as soon as i saw you after the race, had that look like you were just waiting to be fucked. i would have done it right there, you know, in the middle of parc fucking fermé.”

you cried out, body shuddering at his admission, completely boneless on the bed as he rocked into you. you knew you were close, urgently approaching your orgasm, wanting to get him there too. you could tell he was getting closer to his end, breathing getting heavier, thrusts getting slightly more frantic.

“come on george, want you to cum for me. need it.” you pleaded, nails raking over his scalp and down across his shoulder blades, digging in to leave red tracks down his back. you could feel him tensing under your touch, chest to chest, breath mingling as he pulled away from your neck to look at you. to really, properly, look at you.

something happened, then, that you couldn’t quite grasp. it happened all at once, something changing in his eyes that you knew was mirrored in your own, something that you couldn’t articulate, that you’d never let him see before. you didn’t know if he was feeling it for the first time, or if he was like you, too scared of reality to let it slip through. as quickly as it happened, you were squeezing your eyes shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure of having him on top of you, your legs tightening around his waist, trapping him against you.

you fell apart, levitating somewhere above the clouds, seeing nothing but white. the only thing that brought you out of it, back to life again, was the feeling of his weight crashing down on top of you, not a millimetre between your slick bodies. the groan he let out was carnal, utterly delirious as he came down from his high.

when he kissed you after, making no effort to get off of you, you let yourself have hope for the first time ever.

afterwards, it was quiet. it usually was between you. sometimes there was only time for the quiet moments, no time for whispers across pillows or to be held in his arms. tonight there was time. you could hear his breath slowing, you own heartbeat still ringing in your ears. next, there was the crumpling of the sheets as he turned towards you.

you were laying on your side, facing away from him. you needed these moments after to compose yourself, to take it all in before it was over again, until the next time. his hand grazed your waist, down to where the duvet covered you, grabbing softly at your hip. you could feel his body heat, turning slowly to look up at him. he was resting on his forearm, fingers trailing over any bare skin he could find.

neither of you spoke yet, there was still no need. you curled into him as he laid himself back against the pillows, enveloped in his arms. your head rested on his chest, a sense of total calm settling over you. you dreaded these moments, because it always felt the same. he made you feel safe and warm and relaxed, and it was awful. it was especially awful when there was only one race left before he would disappear off on holiday, and then go back to his family, and you’d submerge yourself in christmas drinks in london and making sure that the w14 wasn’t as god awful.

then, you’d see him again in february wondering if he’d finally gotten a girlfriend, despite that inkling of hope, or if he was bored of your face every time he shut the door of a hotel suite. you were far too scared to broach either topic and somehow he always came back to you. what if he didn’t, though? what then? you’d never be allowed to enjoy him all the time because what if? what if? you were only allowed him on the weekends. he could only be yours on the weekends, when everyone else stopped paying attention. looks shared in the heat of the moment did nothing to change that.

“i meant what i said. couldn’t have done it without you, you know.” he broke the silence, and you were thankful that you didn’t have to do it.

you let his words sink in. you hadn’t been able to before, submerged too quickly into the white hot pleasure to form a coherent thought.

“it’s a team effort.” you whispered. you didn’t move to look up at him. you couldn’t bare it for some reason.

“no. that’s not what i mean.” his voice was somewhat even, only slightly laced with annoyance. george never liked having to over-explain himself, he was very good at making people understand the first time. apparently that had never quite translated to you, too much time spent second guessing him, and more importantly, yourself.

“what i’m trying to say is thank you. for everything. for believing in me.” he murmured, lips pressing against your hairline. his fingers found yours in the dark, lacing them together. “with you, it’s a different kind of team effort. always felt like you were on my side. when i was at williams, when i joined you at mercedes, you always had my back.”

you stayed silent, unsure of what this meant, words being spoken softly into the darkness. it was overwhelming, having him vocalise his gratitude to you, something he’d never really done before.

“always knew you’d do it.” you whispered, words fanning across his chest. it was all a bit too intimate, unfamiliar territory being explored for the first time.

he turned into you, your head no longer resting on his chest, the low visibility doing nothing to hide the desire in his eyes as he leaned in and kissed you. it was slow, soft, that feeling from before nagging at you as your naked bodies moulded together. one hand cupped his neck, the other still held tightly in his.

this never happened after. ever.

how long could it last? slow kisses turned into sleep, held tight against his chest as the night faded into the misery of monday morning, and the weekend was over.

we love an ambiguous ending lol

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @yeolsbubbles @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @organasith @micks-afterglow @blueflorals @juno-1610 @lqvesoph

i’ve removed any tags that weren’t working! pls let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist or removed! <3

#george russell #george russell x fem!reader #george russell smut #george russell fluff #george russell angst #george russell imagine #george russell oneshot #george russell x you #george russell fic #george russell writing #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 oneshot #f1 angst #f1 fics #f1 imagine

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charlewiss-writes · 1 year

Text

never really over / george russell

masterlist

day 3: rain (part of one-word november prompts!)

summary: the rain had caught you unprepared. luckily, he lived close.

pairing: george russell x reader

warnings: not proofread! italics are memories.

word count: 1k words

"this is over, george" you said, tears pilling up on your eyes. you had been thinking about it for a bit. considering his busy schedule and your job becoming even more demanding, you knew it was time to let your boyfriend go. still, he couldn't see the issue you were presenting him. "why? what did I do wrong, love?"

"you did nothing, george, we've talked about this a million times. I'm slowing you down" and that was the drop that filled the glass. he couldn't fight about this anymore. it wasn't the first time that you had brought this topic up, and even when he reassured you that it wasn't like that, he decided to let it go. if you didn't want to fight for him, why should he? so against his best judgment, he accepted your choice.

even though the decision was one-sided, your breakup was amicably, and you promised to keep the friendship you two had before starting to date. you still maintained contact: the usual messages for birthdays, holidays, when a weekend was especially great for him. you sent the biggest message ever when his move to mercedes was confirmed, knowing how much he worked for this.

still, you needed to take your mind off it, so since your break up, you decided it would be wise to focus on yourself instead. a little morning run, meditation, yoga, and extra steps on your skin care routine became part of your daily basis. today, after being inside your apartment for a bit too long preparing the powerpoint for the next presentation you had at your job, you decided it would be wise to go for a run, so you could stretch your legs and relax your eyesight. it had all been going great, until the first raindrop touched your cheek and suddenly, the sky was falling apart. somehow, you managed to get yourself under a tree to avoid getting even more wet than you already were.

after trying to call everyone that came to mind -your mother, brother, best friend- and finding that all of them were busy, his name appeared on the front of your mind. yeah, you were civil, but hadn't seen eachother since you went to his house to get your stuff back, so you weren't especially excited to find out that george was your main chance to get home safe and, hopefully, without catching a cold.

"I'm so so so sorry george" was the first thing you said to the englishman when he picked up. "what happened, are you okay?" his worried tone caught your attention, but you tried to downplay it right away. "yeah, I'm just stupid. went for a run but the weather had other plans" you huffed, already too embarrassed to ask him the favour. he immediately answered "I'll come pick you up. don't worry, darling. send me the location" he ended the call without hearing your response. 10 minutes later, he was already at the park, putting an umbrella over your head and getting you to his car.

—

"I'm so sorry for taking your time, george" you said in the exact second he got into the car, while he was putting his seatbelt. "it's not a problem, y/n. told you i'll be there for you" he looked at you and smiled, while starting to drive back home. "yeah, for important stuff, not because I got soaked in the fucking rain that came from nowhere" you replied while rolling your eyes, and turned your head to look outside at the window. "actually, it was announced on the weather report" he said laughing. "shut up".

—

unexpectedly, you ended at his house. when entering his place, you were instantly met with the memories it had to offer. gladly, you didn't have time to indulge in them due to george's voice suddenly catching your attention and bringing you back towards reality. "go take a shower. you already know where everything is. i'll give you some comfy clothes so you can warm up a bit, yeah?"

"no no, george, you don't need to"

"no, but i want to. please."

after taking a quick shower, you put on the clothes george had left you in his bed. being the tall giant he was, the clothes engulfed you whole. you smiled when you realised you smelled like him, and again, the memories came black flooding your brain. "hey, do you need someth-" george entered the room without knocking, thinking that you were still in the shower. "whoa, sorry, didn't realise" he said quickly. you smiled softly at his shy reaction. he whispered and you almost missed it "you look... great"

"your clothes always were too big for me" you joked but still, your heart was beating quite fast. you hoped he couldn't hear it, even though you felt it was resonating in your whole body. "but you won't get a cold now that you're warm, yeah? so how my clothes fit you doesn't matter. and still, you look cute".

"shut up, russell, you're making me blush" you said, now avoiding his gaze, afraid that he could figure out just by looking into see eyes how he was making you feel inside. "and why's that?" he cockily said, now taking two steps towards you and into the bedroom. "can you please take me home?

george was now just a few centimetres away, towering over your figure. "fine, I'll drive you. but I want to know something first" he whispered. you gulped and tried to keep your eyes on his, but it was proven to be more difficult with each second that passed. "tell me you don't feel a thing when I'm this close, and we'll act like it never happened". you took your eyes out of him, letting your forehead drop to his chest. "you know I can't do that, george".

"why?"

"you didn't get it at first, but I did it for you" you smiled and caressed his cheek. "you're at mercedes now, accomplishing your dreams, aren't you?" he leaned over your touch. "seeing you happy on track was enough for me. it was never really over, love"

#f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x yn #george russell fluff #george russell angst #george russell x reader #george russell x y/n #george russell x you #george russell imagine

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norrussell · 5 months

Text

Lines | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: it's morning after the victory celebration and George and you need to talk about what happened the previous night, except it doesn't really go as planned

Warnings: angst

A/N: 👉👈👀 Now I wish I had that other one shot ready considering George ended up on the podium, but balance baby. The melody of the song might not fit, but the lyrics are 🤌 Also I made a whole damn playlist for this little story

Previous part

The morning after excessive drinking was never a good one. The sun shining through the unclosed curtains only made the head pounding worse, causing you to let out an agonized groan. Your throat and mouth felt parched like walking through a desert and your body seemed to be weighed down, refusing to move when you tried turning over.

You extended one arm and blindly felt around the cold, empty side of the bed that obviously someone had been in last night. You were only barely aware of the night before. You knew you went out to celebrate George's win and had an amazing time, but you were vaguely able to recollect any of it.

There were only flashes of him holding you as you moved on the dance floor and drinks coming and going - the reason why you were in such pain right now. The way you celebrated, someone would think it was you who won. And in all those in-between moments, you couldn't remember meeting anyone and certainly had no memory of bringing them home, but you knew someone should be beside you. And surely George wouldn't just let you-

George.

Your eyes flew open.

Oh, no.

You glanced to the left side of your bed, trying to convince yourself that it was just a drunken dream and you slept alone in your bed, but the sheets were crumpled exactly as they should have been if someone had occupied the space. Only faintly, bits and pieces of what happened after were coming back to you now - the feel of George's lips and of his fingertips dancing on your skin.

You propped yourself up on an elbow, blinking away dizziness as you sat up. You held onto the edge of the bed until the room stopped spinning and you found your balance again. Moreover, feeling exposed underneath the sheets was only a confirmation of what you dreaded most.

The only thing that you could take solace in at the moment was that you didn't have to face George and the aftermath of your own doings. Oh, how could you have been so rash? You were the one to initiate everything with your friend, despite begging him not to let anything come between your friendship. All night, you kept making advances towards him and it was due to your constant prodding, teasing and cajoling that George eventually kissed you and ended up in your bed.

You heard an uninvited voice in your head. There were no consequences last night, only two friends who had spent the most perfect evening together doing the things they loved and being with the one person they trusted the most.

But the night hadn't ended there. And it had involved an awful lot of alcohol.

Oh, god, you couldn't even remember everything that happened.

And that was the thing that scared you even more.

Then George's deep voice echoed in your head. You could remember every word he said last night, and you could still feel his arms wrapped around you. He'd loved the feel of you. He'd loved watching you. He'd loved how hard you came on his fingers. He'd been so proud of you.

No, no, no, no, no, no. This is ridiculous. This shouldn't have happened. You ran a hand through your thick, tangled hair when a loud noise coming from outside of your bedroom snapped you out of your thoughts.

You jumped out of the bed, grabbing the first bit of clothing you could find and hastily throwing it on. The sunshine hit you hard from your floor-to-ceiling living room windows, your eyes squinting as you tried to adjust to the brightness. And there he was, moving effortlessly through your kitchen, just in his gray sweatpants and barefoot.

You could observe the definition of his back muscles, how relaxed and tranquil he was. The red marks that ran across his body were only a further confirmation it was true what had happened the previous night. When he spun around to face you, his lips curled into a smile as his eyes scanned you from head to toe.

"Good morning,"

"I thought you left," you blurted out before you could stop yourself, leaning against the doorframe.

His face dropped and he put down the thing he was holding on the counter. For the first time ever it was hard for him to read your face. "The way you said it sounds like you wish I did."

"No, I just..." you tried to find words to explain, but nothing was coming. "That's not it at all."

"I'm making breakfast," he grinned once more, showing off the pan.

"Mhm," you murmured, trying to give him a hint of a smile, but it fell flat.

He didn't seem to notice though as he was busy stirring something in the pan. "I like your outfit by the way," he said casually without even glancing at you.

It was only then that you looked at yourself. You were wearing his shirt from last night. Your hand moved to take it off, but you remembered there was nothing underneath, so instead you pulled the fabric closer to your skin.

"I'll give it back," you muttered, trying to keep your eyes away from him as you felt your cheeks heat up.

"I didn't say it because I wanted you to give it back. You know I let you wear my clothes," you knew he was trying to make things less awkward, but it only made it more difficult for you. This was not supposed to happen between the two of you. You were just friends, best friends, and now there was this added layer of complication that you couldn't ignore.

"That was before… That was different."

"How is that different?" he turned around, facing you fully.

"It just is!" you snapped.

George raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Whoa, okay. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," you muttered, looking away from him.

"I'm sorry you had to wake up alone, I wanted to-"

"That's not the problem," you shook your head.

"Then what is?" he finally turned the stove off, looking at you.

"What are you making?" you forced a smile and walked up to him, the subject changed once again.

You were a ticking time bomb waiting to explode and he knew that. He wanted to make sure that you were okay, that you didn't regret what happened last night. He knew you better than anyone else and he could see the guilt eating away at you. He had to do something to make you feel better, to make things right. Still, he let you have your way, glancing at you sideways. "Well, it's an omelette with all kinds of vegetables. Even the mushrooms you hate."

"And the tomatoes, right?"

"And the tomatoes." he smiled, nodding.

"Smells amazing," you returned the smile.

"I'm glad you think so. Are you hungry?"

"I'm sick, honestly." you grimaced.

"Here, drink this, it should help you with your hangover until I wrap this up." he said, indicating the pan.

"Is this one of your trainer's smoothie recipes?" you asked, eyeing the glass filled with green liquid suspiciously.

He laughed, then nodded. "Guilty. But it does the job, trust me. I already had one."

You took a small sip, noting the disgusting taste.

"Bleh," you tried to shove it in your mouth as fast as possible and moved the glass away from your lips. You shivered, shuddering at the aftertaste.

"I told you." George laughed, taking it from you. "It's not that bad."

"I hate you." you muttered.

He sighed, somehow not doubting your words, presenting you a plate with the omelette and the cooked vegetables on it. He then poured out a glass of water for you. "Eat up, you'll feel better."

You shot a glare at him, but grabbed your fork and started eating anyway. He stepped away for a brief moment to search for and put on a shirt. And that irked you even more. How could he be so calm, so collected, so... normal after what happened between the two of you last night? You couldn't even look at him without feeling a sense of shame washing over you.

The more you stayed quiet, the more apprehensive you were about what had happened the night before. You didn't know the consequences that may arise from your actions and it could have caused irreparable damage, even though nothing seemed to be amiss. The stress was steadily building inside of you as you desperately tried to keep yourself from starting an argument, but eventually you couldn't contain it any longer.

The guilt that had been weighing down on your heart since you woke up was only getting heavier. How could he act like nothing was out of the ordinary? Like nothing had happened between you two? How could he not bring it up?

"I can't do this." and there it was.

"Do what?" he said with a frown.

God, this was not a conversation you wanted to have first thing in the morning.

"Pretend." you crossed your arms. "Acting like what happened last night didn't happen."

George's face fell, but he didn't look away from you. "I'm not pretending, y/n." he took a deep breath, his eyes locked onto yours. “I just thought that maybe we could talk about it later."

"Later? George, this is important. We can't just pretend like it didn't happen.”

"I know it is," he was still frowning.

"Last night, I- I don't know what came over me. I mean, I got drunk, you know that I wouldn't do something like that otherwise."

“I know,” he repeated.

"Well, I think I wouldn't, anyway," you tried to laugh, but it only came out as a nervous cough. "Because right now I can't remember a single thing that happened after the club."

"I brought you home." George replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Can you stop doing that?" you were getting annoyed after each second that passed.

"What?" he responded, still not meeting your gaze.

"Avoiding addressing the problem. Like nothing changed between us!"

"I'm not." he gritted.

"Oh, please!" you rolled your eyes, "Can we not do this right now?"

"Do what?!"

"This! Act like nothing happened between us and nothing changed. We can't just sweep it under the rug. We are both adults, you can act like one."

“Nothing has changed.” George finally looked up at you, his eyes penetrating yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "What do you want me to say, y/n? That I regret last night? That I wish it never happened?" he shook his head. "I can't say that because it wouldn't be true."

"We crossed the line!" you shouted.

"What line?! The line was already blurred after the thing that happened in my driver's room. Last night it was barely existent!"

You flinched at his words, the reminder of your previous encounters with George sending shivers down your spine. "I shouldn't have ever let you touch me." you whispered.

"God, if I knew it would be like this I never would have offered."

"So why did you?" you snapped.

"Because I wanted to." he clapped back.

The tension between you both was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel like your friendship was hurtling towards its breaking point. You couldn't understand why he was so calm about everything, why he wasn't feeling the same way as you. It was almost as if he didn't care about the fact that you had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.

"You wanted to?" you repeated, feeling the anger inside you bubbling up. "Is that all it takes for you to just throw away our friendship like it's nothing?"

"It's not like that," he said, his voice calm despite the way you were shouting at him. "I care about you, y/n. You know that."

"We shouldn’t have let things go this far…" you whispered.

"Well, yeah, it's all should've, would've, could've now, isn't it?" George's voice was hard and bitter. He pushed himself away from the counter, balling his fists at his sides.

"How can you be so calm about it? Does it not mean anything to you? Do you even care?!"

George ran his hands through his hair, frustration etched onto his face. "No, I'm just trying to understand why you're so upset about it."

"Why am I so upset?! We had sex, for god's sake, George!"

George stood up from his seat and walked towards you, his face just inches away from yours, his breath hot on your skin. "And it was amazing," he said. "Don't pretend like you didn't enjoy it just as much as I did. Do you remember what you were saying to me last night? Huh? Do you?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to push down the memory of your slurred words. "That doesn't matter," you said, trying to push away from him. "That's not even the point! We can't just pretend like it never happened and go back to being friends like nothing changed."

"What, you don't want to admit that you wanted me just as much as I wanted you?" he chuckled, his eyes never leaving your face. "And I asked you, time and time again, are you sure, do you want this," he raised his voice, "and you said yes every time. Don't backtrack now just because it's convenient for you. Don't even try to deny it."

"I was drunk!" you yelled back, your heart pounding in your chest. "What did I know? You should've known better than to..." you trailed off, not really wanting to believe it.

"Than to what?" George interrupted, his eyes blazing with anger. "To trust you? To believe that you knew what you were doing?"

"You knew I was vulnerable!" you shot back, tears streaming down your face.

"Vulnerable of what?!" he bellowed, his fists clenched at his sides. "You were the one who came on to me, who kissed me, who begged me to take you."

"You could have said no!" you cried, feeling the weight of the accusation heavy on your shoulders. "You should've said no..."

"Why should I have said no?" he shouted. "I wanted you! I still want you! God, I wanted you for years. I'd be willing to risk anything just to show how much I cared, but because the friendship meant so much to us both, I was afraid that if I confessed my feelings, I would end up losing you completely. And being your friend was infinitely better than not having you at all."

His words hit you like a splash of cold water, dousing you from head to toe. His face was twisted from anger and hurt, but there was no denying the truth in his words. And you were afraid of losing him too, otherwise you wouldn't even be acting this way. He was your best friend, or at least you thought he was. You had been friends for so long, you couldn't even remember when you two became friends. You were so close, so comfortable with each other, so much so that it became a part of your identity. That was why the transition from two to one had been so abrupt.

"I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.”

“You… What?” your voice was barely above a whisper as you stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. You had never expected him to say something like that, not in a million years. It was as if a dam had burst inside of you, all the emotions you had been holding back crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You stepped back, trying to make sense of what he just said. "You love me?" you repeated, feeling your heart skip a beat.

George nodded, his eyes searching yours. "I'm sorry, this isn't how I planned to tell you. I don't know if I ever did. And maybe you’re right, maybe I should have taken better care of you last night and waited until we were both sober do to something, but I couldn't hold myself back any longer, I've been in love with you for so long-"

"No. Don't. Shut up." you raised a finger to stop him from talking further. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" he stepped closer to you, his hands reaching for yours, but you stumbled away from him, towards the window.

"Shut up, George. Just- shut up." you placed your hands on your temples hoping to block everything out.

The room spun and you felt like you were going to throw up. You couldn't believe what was happening. You had never thought of him in that way, not once. He was your best friend, your confidant, your everything, but not your lover. How could he be?

You turned away from him, your back pressed against the cold window. You felt trapped, cornered, and scared. You didn't know how to feel, what to do, or what to say. You were lost in a sea of conflicting emotions, and you didn't know how to swim.

"Don't you love me?" he asked, his voice still soft, his eyes clouded with worry.

"No." as soon as the words flew out of your mouth you wanted to retract them. "Yes. No, not like that." you couldn't handle it anymore. You were breaking apart inside and you were afraid that if you stayed here that you would shatter completely. "You can't be in love with me."

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you?” George's voice was laced with pain and frustration.

"You have to stop."

"Stop what? Loving you? You think I can just turn my feelings off like a switch? But if you're so wise tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me." the emotion in his voice was like a thunderbolt.

And then you saw them, the tears in his eyes begging for you to stop pushing him away. And you saw the pain, the pleading hurt in his eyes. And you felt your heart breaking.

Oh, god. You were hurting him.

You hesitated, but your feet started moving before your mind had a chance to catch up with your body. Before you realized it, you were standing in front of him, your hand reaching up to touch his cheek. His hand instantly grabbed yours.

"I tried, you know? It's not that easy." he sobbed. "It’s not that easy to just let go of someone you’ve held onto for so fucking long. I wish I wasn’t in love with you, now that I see what it's doing to you. To us."

"I think we need to spend some time apart." you said.

George's grip on your hand tightened, and he looked at you with a mixture of fear and desperation. "How can you be like this?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to say. "I just need some space, George. This is all too overwhelming for me right now. I need to figure things out for myself."

George's eyes widened in shock. "You can't walk away from me like this. We can do it together, we can-"

"No, I'm not walking away from you," you said softly, trying to keep your voice calm. "I just need some time to think. We both do. On our own."

"Time apart won't solve a thing." he said, his voice pleading.

"There's nothing left to say." you sighed.

He almost laughed. "I just confessed my love to you and it's all too much? You have nothing left to say? Huh?"

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing. How could you explain to him that your heart was so full of conflicting emotions that you couldn't even speak? You loved him, there was no denying that. But you were scared, scared of losing him as a friend, scared of losing yourself in him. You needed some time to figure out what you wanted, what you needed, and for the first time, you couldn't do that with him around. Not right now.

"I need to do what's best for me right now. I hope you can understand that." you took a step back, your hand slipping from his.

George's eyes followed your hand as it slipped away from his. His heart ached at the thought of losing you, and for a moment, he considered grabbing your hand and pulling you back into his arms. But he knew he couldn't do that. He had to respect your wishes, even if it hurt like hell.

"What's best for you, huh? I guess I don't have a choice then, do I?" he said, walking backwards away from you.

"George-" you started, but he already disappeared in your bedroom.

When he emerged back, he was wearing one of his sweaters that you borrowed a long time ago and never returned. He put on his jacket and shoes without even looking at you. You knew he was hurt, but you also knew that you couldn't just give in to him. You needed to take care of yourself first. As he walked towards the door in silence, you knew that he was leaving, maybe for good. You wanted to run after him, to tell him that you loved him too, but you stayed rooted to the spot, knowing that it was the right thing to do.

The second he left, you fell into the cushions of the couch, your hands clutching your face. You had crushed his heart and yours in the same instant. You needed space to collect your thoughts and decide what the future held for George and yourself - if a future existed at all between you two.

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