#gr63 x reader

[cheriladycl01]

Mercedes Golden Girl - Grid x MercedesSplit! Reserve Driver

Plot: You are the woman to have come the furthest in modern Formula 1, as reserve driver for 3/10th of the grid she's thrown about the shop in the season of 2024.

Credits to csquaredinred for the GIF

Y/N Y/L/N was a name in Motorsport History books. She had currently come the furthest a woman has in F1 in many years.

Following in Oscar Piastri's footsteps, you won F3 in 2022 two years after him while he was storming through F2. You had an extremely dominant season being 30 points ahead of the next person behind you.

F3 wasn't too bad, you had one other girl with you that you were able to hang out with, as the boys were all the same in F3.

It was harder in 2023 when you graduated to F2 and were the only girl on the grid. Obviously you made friends with the boys but you always felt like the outcast, you never understood the 'boys jokes' and sometimes they wouldn't invite you to stuff because 'girls wouldn't like it' and it upset you.

You were very nervous to get into F1, only assuming that gap would be larger than it was in F2. So when you won the championship it only seemed smart for Toto to Promote you to the Mercedes reserve driver, on loan to McLaren and Williams as and when needed.

You'd been in the Mercedes Young Driver and Development Programme since Karting thanks to your family connections to one of the mechanics.

He begged Toto to go see you karting and give you a change and that was when his mind was set to help you further your career where he helped you into F4 and other racing.

There was an open spot in 2024 for you to be a Reserve Driver for Mercedes with Frederick Vesti and Mick Schumacher starting to look at other racing categories like WEC and Indy Car. So having you available in a second was important for Toto, they made a clause as engine suppliers for Williams and McLaren that they could also use you as a reserve driver as long as Mercedes had first dibs on you.

You thought your 2024 season would be pretty slow, only getting to go in the F1 car in Free Practice sessions like you had before but oh boy how wrong you turned out to be.

When Lewis announced he was moving to Ferrari in 2024, you had conversations with Toto Wolff and George Russell to see if that Mercedes seat could be yours, despite their being talk of Carlos Sainz, Alex Albon, Kimi Antonelli, Mick Schumacher and Frederick Vesti all up for taking that seat you hoped that maybe you could get it.

Toto didn't confirm anything and for the first four races, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Australia and Japan you did everything you could for the team, grabbing waters, helping hospitality make food, being chauffeur to any of the drivers who were tired after the races and everyone could see how much effort you were putting in.

CHINA 2024

In China, Logan Sargeant sprained his wrist in training and by the time FP1 came around the medical team said it wasn't safe for him to drive. As the sole and only reserve driver Williams had it was up for you to race.

Williams hadn't had a good season and they were worried having a rookie in the car. Both Alex and Logan had their fair share of mistakes and they were worried about their spending this year. They couldn't afford another chassis until Miami.

They also had yet to gain points with either the boys currently.

You were a lot smaller than Logan so they spent time padding out the car to help you so your neck didn't suffer with the G-Force as much.

By the time FP1 came about the car had been padded out fully.

"And here we have a very nervous looking Y/N Y/L/N who has been confirmed to take Logan's place for the race this weekend and will be partaking in her first F1 race. Awwww look at her talking to Logan and his team..." Ted says as he sees her on screen, talking through what was probably race strategy.

"Yeah, obviously she's done these Free Practice sessions but never a race so I'm excited to see what she can do on Sunday!" Martin says looking at her as she starts to pull her race suit up and put her helmet on.

You get in the car and after some wet conditions and not everyone getting out your fourth fastest on the board.

All the interviews were joking around saying how you were a Mercedes miracle.

FP2 saw you get P12 and you were pretty happy with that result as you weren't trying to drive quickly, you were just trying to get used to the track. You'd never driven the Shanghai circuit so getting to grips on the circuit was difficult.

FP3, went better and you came P9, trying to see how confident you were on the track and you were trying to go the quickest time you could without risking the car too much.

Qualifying was not good, your breaks were faulty meaning you didn't make it pas Q1 saddling up in P16.

"How did you feel about that qualifying session Y/N?" an interviewer asks and you.

"Yeah I think I got as much out of that car as I could on that day. I'm not only learning the track... I'm still learning the car and how it's built and just how different it is from F2. Learning both at once is pretty complicated so I'm personally proud of what I've achieved and yeah I hope the team is proud of me too.

"Yeah Y/N i think you've really got to understand just how amazing what you've done so far this weekend is already amazing and no matter the result tomorrow people will still be incredibly amazed by what you've managed to do in a lower end car" he smiles and you grin back.

"Thank you really!" you grinned, nearly tearing up at the kind words.

Come the Sunday and you were ready and raring to go, Williams had come up with an impeccable strategy that you knew you'd be able to pull something off.

"IT'S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO HERE WE ARE RACING IN SHANGHAI CHINA FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2019. AND EVERYONE MAKES IT ROUND TURN ONE, BUT OH MY GOD CONTACT IN THE REAR WITH, WHAT THAT A WILLIAMS AGIAN?" the commentator screams and everyone in the garage is holding their breath, the dust from the gravel trap not allowing them to see which car went into the wall.

Your family were panicking thinking it was you.

"IT'S NOT! IT'S THE RB OF YUKI TSUNODA AND THE ALPINE OF ESTEBAN OCON! AND NOW VALTTERI BOTTAS IS HAVING TO STOP HIS CAR ... LETS REWATCH TO SEE WHAT OCCURED!" the commentator says as they watch the replay of Esteban taking the turn to wide and not leaving enough room for Yuki crashing into the side of him while clipping Valtteri's wheel and wing.

The race went on and you'd managed to climb all the way to 5th thanks to you having insanely good tyre management. It was always one of the things you were condemned for in the lower feeder series is how well you looked after your tyres.

"Y/N is just doing an amazing job, not only is she currently the only one to have not pitted but she's managed to climb her way up the ranks and get that distance she'll need to pit" the commentator says watching.

"I think she's really starting to struggle on those tyres though. I can imagine they'll put her on soft tyres for the last few laps to help her gain those vital positions. Everyone else seems to be on the mediums right now" he explains and on the next lap you called to pit.

However the commentators our outraged as Williams fumble, calling both you and Alex into the pits at the same time.

"Guys what the hell is going on?" you ask waiting behind Alex's car who was getting new tyres and had a very quick pitstop.

However the crew weren't prepared for the double up, so they run getting looking around for what they need for you. It ended up being a 12 second pit stop and you were crying with frustration by the end.

"Y/N I'm sorry we are looking into it" Logan's engineer says and you just ignore.

You came out of the pits in P15 so you had a lock of making up to do.

"AND FOR THE FIRST TIME THIS YEAR WILLIAMS HAVE RECIEVED POINTS, AND BOTH OF THEIR DRIVERS AT THAT DESPITE ALL THAT WAS THROWN AT THEM TODAY THEY HAVE GOT THEMSELVES THOSE VITAL POINTS THAT WILL STIR WILLIAMS IN THE RIGHT WAY!" the commentator yells and as you drive past the pitwall, all engineers from many of the teams are cheering your name making tears come from your eyes, scoring your first point in F1. P10 in your first race.

"You really were just phenomenal out there today Y/N. You had the best tyre management by statistics which is incredible for a reserve rookie... you've just amazed us all!" Naomi smiles at you.

"Honestly its such a great feeling going out there and making the team proud, i think Williams still have so much to work with and I experienced that today but with drivers like Alex and Logan who are both so driven and hard working i can really see them improving throughout the season.

"Do you think you'll do any other races this season?" he asks and you laugh.

"I think I'm lucky as a reserve driver to have been given this opportunity. Obviously my heart goes out to Logan and I hope he makes a full recovery for his home race! But ultimately i dint think I will be called on again this season." you nod.

MONACO 2024

"When you got the phone call from Toto explaining that Lewis wouldn't be able to race in Monaco, you were shocked. It would take something really big to make Lewis not race.

You'd come to the paddock pull of nerves and you felt physically sick. Mercedes, even though their car was pretty shit this year, still had a mid field car and you were going to prove that you could drive it like it was a championship winning car ... if it was any other circuit than Monaco.

Monaco was... well Monaco. It's an itty bitty small street track that didn't have a lot of room for overtakes, had twisty corners that were very unpredictable and could always have a chance of rain.

So yeah you were worried.

Too the point you actually had a panic attack, there you were in your drivers room crying and sobbing over the pressures from media day before going out to FP1.

"Y/N?" you heard from outside your drivers room making you stop completely in your tracks trying to make your crying silent but you were doing this weird little hiccupping sound as you were gasping for breaths.

"I'm coming in!" George says and he walks in, greeted by your red puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"Awwww baby" he says with a pout and pulls you into a hug as you sob more. There wasn't as much pressure on you as there were in the Williams, Mercedes had been constructors champions for 8 years in a row.

"George I'm so scared, what if i mess up!" you cry looking at him and George was nearly brough to tears himself seeing this 21 year old girl sobbing into his chest at the prospect of her messing up.

"What are you worried about messing up!" he asks.

"The race, the constructors championship! Everything!" you cry harder. George stays with you until you both are needed for the Free Practice Session.

Lewis' Mercedes has to be very packed out for you as he was a bulky man despite his height and that was the first issue in FP1. They hadn't packed you out enough and your were struggling a little with the G-Force, some corners the particularly fast ones, your head was flying to the side causing your steering to be a little off.

Despite that it made for a great weekend. George was right, you didn't have anything to worry about and you came P7 while George game P5 having car problems in qualifying meaning he'd had the better overall driver working his way up to the position he had.

"And again Y/N, how do you feel now that you are above Ollie Bearmen in the drivers Championship!" she asks and you giggle. You and Ollie despite being in different driver development programmers had a special bond. You both karted together a lot as kids and you went to the same school as him despite being a few school years above him. You had a sibling sort of bond.

"Yeah, i mean it's a little unfair to compare me at all considering he drove the second best car on his first F1 race... but i think we both stepped up to the challenge well and really took it in our strides. I'm excited to see of there are any teams willing to offer him a seat. I think so much talent from F2 is being wasted and the feeder series doesn't feel like its doing well of getting drivers into F1... so it would be interesting to see a new category added that's closer to F1 than F2 ..." you admit knowing that's how all of the washed out F2 drivers felt that will potentially never get to experience a career in F1.

SPAIN and AUSTRIA.

You were on a yacht, you didn't know whose but you were on a yacht when you had the news that George Russell had fully broken his foot in a crash Canada and they'd need you to step in for two races while it healed. He was getting surgery... of course he was and it should be healed by the time George's home race came around.

Getting to drive alongside your idol Lewis was incredible. He'd made you feel so safe and comfortable the whole weekend and you clung to him in all the media and interviews.

Not that Lewis minded, he found you adorable and didn't want you to feel left out or side-lined. He brought you out for food with some of the other drivers who you got talking to finding out their likes and dislikes. Lewis and Charles would excitedly gossip about them being team-mates for 2025 and whether Toto had found a replacement.

"Well... Carlos told me... and you cant tell anyone... promise?" Charles said seriously as the three of you were stood at the bar. And you nod.

"He's been offered a 3 year contract at Red Bull which is perfect for him to then make the move to Audi!" Charles exclaimed and you let out a breath of release.

The Mercedes seat was still up for grabs.

Spain was incredible, you'd never felt the heat and an atmosphere quite like it and you got you best result yet, coming P5. You kind of blamed that on Max and Perez crashing into each other and the debris messing with Carlos' car meaning Charles, Lewis and Lando took the podium while you and Oscar were just shy of it.

Austria was also good where you came in P8, Aston and Ferrari having had upgrades meant it was a tougher battle with everyone on the grid.

You now had 21 points, and were 10th in the constructors championship despite not being there for all the races which you were pretty impressed with. You'd scored points at all your races.

But it wasn't until Monza that the big one came.

MONZA

You were asked to fill in for Mr Oscar Piastri who had come down with what the medical team deemed invasive tonsillitis and he was not on par to drive.

Again you were nervous but having driven the Mercedes a few times you felt more and more confident.

You and Lando had pretty much spent the whole media day messing around. Lando did it, not only because he liked you but because he knew you were nervous despite the front you were putting on for everyone in the garage.

You and Lando got on like two pees in a pod and everyone found the dynamic hilarious. Lando flirting with you while you were innocently oblivious to his moves.

Lando found you insanely attractive. Every race you turned up at he'd look out for you in the paddock just so he could see you in your Mercedes gear.

Today however, you looked even better rocking the Papaya.

"You look good today!" Lando attempted as he grinned at you.

"Thank you! I got a new helmet design for this one, wanna see?" you ask and he nods. You show him your helmet which was so you, but you'd gone all out making it glittery. One side had Lando's pattern on it from his standard 2024 helmet.

"Oh woah! That looks great!" he grins, watching as you pop it on. He teasingly slaps the lid down making you try to reach up and swatch his hands away and lift the visor back up.

"Lan come on!" you cry frustrated making him chuckle.

Qualifying came and Piastri's now your car had so many issues meaning you were starting in Sunday in P11, which wasn't great. But the engineers promised to fix the issues before the race.

Lando got pole and you were overjoyed no longer caring about the shit show of your Qually.

You were jumping and hugging him as he got out the car and he enveloped you back in the hug.

"I'm so proud of you!" you'd squealed to him, and thank god his helmet was on because boy was blushing hard.

"Thank you!"

Sunday came around and it was carnage.

"AND AFTER A DIFFICULT RACE LANDO NORRIS WINS THE 2024 ITALIAN GRAND PRIX HIS FIRST EVER WIN, HERE COMES MAX VERSTAPPEN IN P2 AND Y/N Y/L/N GETTING HER MAIDEN PODIUM AS A RESERVE DRIVER FOR MCLAREN. WHAT A RACE SHE HAS HAD!" the commentator screams.

All of the Mclaren team were celebrating from the pit wall as you and Lando waved at them.

Being up there on the podium with Lando and Max was like nothing you've ever experienced. You were drenched in sticky champagne and you were laughing and joking with two friends about the victory.

"If that doesn't get her a seat next year I don't know what will" the commentators say before the Sunday Race stops broadcasting live.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #toto wolff dad #toto wolff fic #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton #george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell #gr63 imagine #gr63 x reader #gr63 #lando fluff #lando norris fluff #lando imagine #lando x reader #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine

[fxrmuladaydreams]

the boss’s daughter (gr63)

george russell x wolff!reader

summary: you become attached to a certain british driver, but he panics when he thinks about the repercussions of your relationship

notes: i’ve only ever written george one other time and it didn’t get all that much love, but that could’ve been bc the tags weren’t working so we’ll see how this goes. i hate having to do math with ages when it comes to fics so we’re all going to pretend that toto and susie are older than they are so they can have a daughter who is age appropriate for george 👍

Your father had tried his hardest, for years, to get you interested in racing. Your parents were Susie and Toto Wolff for god’s sake, it didn’t make any sense to him why you were so disinterested in cars.

Susie tried to convince him it was okay. “So she’s not going to be a Formula One driver, she’ll find something else. Something she enjoys.”

Little did they know that something was going to end up a someone.

Some might’ve called it lazy, your gift to your father on father’s day being the promise you’d attend a race weekend with him. But you would call it financially responsible.

You mother made you keep your promise, even after gifting him something he’d actually use.

“It’ll make him so happy.” She cooed at you.

And happy he was, taking you around the paddock from garage to garage, introducing you to the other team principals, even a few of the drivers. You ended your tour back at the Mercedes building, you father’s arm over your shoulder as he guided you through the crowds.

He tugs you along with him as he talks to the engineers. You’re sure it’s important, but to you it just sounds like nonsense droning on.

Your eyes wander around the garage, stopping on the two drivers standing in the corner.

You’d met Lewis before, you father adored the man. He was invited to various family gatherings and parties. He was sweet, his dog Roscoe even sweeter.

You hadn’t met George yet though. Sure, you’d seen him on the team instagram, accidentally turning himself into a meme practically every weekend.

You watch as George talks animatedly with Lewis, his hair slightly falling into his face. Lewis eventually gives George a pat on his arm, then walks away, leaving the younger driver alone.

“You haven’t taken me to meet George yet.” You tell your father once he’s finished with the engineers, softly tugging at his arm.

He pulls you over to the young British driver, who seems to stand up straighter in the presence of your father.

“George, this is my daughter, Y/n.” He introduces you.

When George’s eyes meet yours, you can’t help but drown in them. The soft green practically glitters in the sun.

“Nice to meet you.” He says, holding his hand out to you.

You take his hand in yours and shake it. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Toto looks between the two of you and very quickly notices the glint in your eyes. He also notices the way George’s lips tilt upwards in a soft smile.

“Alright, c’mon, let’s leave George to get ready.” He says, attempting to pull you away from George.

“But I want to see the car.” You keep yourself planted in front of George.

“You can go see Lewis’ car. I’m sure George wants some time alone before the race.”

“I can show her. I’m not busy.” George says, shrinking slightly when Toto’s eyes meet his.

“Alright.” Toto says gruffly, making sure to follow right behind you as George leads you to his side of the garage.

George almost looks nervous as he shows you his car, pointing out different things, then showing you everything on the steering wheel. You step closer to him, your shoulder brushing against his as he points at the different buttons.

Toto lets out a breath when it’s time for George to actually get ready for the race and get in the car. He pulls you back over to where he sits with the engineers and sits you down next to him.

The race is long, but at least if you watch the screens you’ll actually be able to see the cars driving as opposed to their zooming by on the actual track.

George only makes it barely outside the podium, scoring P4 after the race. You watch as he pulls his helmet and balaclava off in frustration. His golden hair sticks out in every direction. A light sheen of sweat coats his face, and you can see the light pink imprints on his cheeks from the balaclava.

You’re able to escape your father for a moment after the race to find George talking to some of the Mercedes workers. He’s got his race suit tied around his waist and a water bottle in his hands.

“Hi George.” You say when there’s a break in their conversation.

“Hi Y/n.” He says, giving you a small smile. “I hope you enjoyed your first race.”

You shrug. “It was alright. I much preferred the company before and after the race.” You tell him, letting your hand trail up and down his bicep.

He flushes under your gaze, stuttering out a quick “thank you” before he’s pulled away.

He doesn’t see you again that day, hoping that you’ll decide to attend another race sometime in the future.

You do, hoping to see the British driver again, maybe this time without your father watching over you like a hawk.

You attempt to seem more casual in the garage this week, only letting your eyes wander occasionally in search of George. He’s not hard to find, his height making him easy to see.

You catch his eye as he gets ready for the race. He gives you a soft smile, to which you reciprocate and give him a wink. His face flushes as he quickly tugs the balaclava over his head.

He doesn’t get a podium, but stays pretty high in the points. He’s slick with sweat when he gets out of his car, his hair is flattened to his head, and sticks out when he runs his hands through it.

He lets out a breath when he gets back to his driver’s room, closing the door behind him, but feels it get caught in his throat again when he sees you on his couch.

“Hey George. Good race.” You tell him.

“Th-thank you.” He stutters out. “Who let you in here?” He doesn’t sound put off or offended in his question, he’s genuinely curious as to how you found your way to his room.

“My dad is the team principal. I have access to pretty much wherever I want.” You stand up and slowly walk over to him. “Look at your hair.” You say as you softly run your fingers through the golden strands, attempting to straighten them out.

George huffs out a small laugh, not sure what to do. You’re very close to him now, practically pressed up against him. He can see the sparkles in your eyes, and can smell your sweet shampoo.

You catch his eyes wandering around, seemingly looking anywhere but at you. You use your fingers yo tilt his chin down so that he has to look at you. You smirk up at him.

“Do I make you nervous George?” You ask softly.

His cheeks flush. “No, no, I’m fine.” He gives you an unconvincing smile.

“You are actually.” You tell him as you lean towards him. You give him plenty of time to back away before pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth.

The kiss is brief, teasing. George can’t quite process it’s happening before you pull away.

You give him a soft pat on his chest, the black fireproofs smooth under your hand. “See you later George.” You wink, then leave him in his driver’s room.

George can’t seem to look his boss in the eye after your encounter in his room, especially not when you seem to find him at every race, and pull him into secluded rooms or hallways with your lips attached to his.

He’s in dangerous territory, he knows that. But he can’t stop. Not when your tongue is practically down his throat, and not when he holds you in his arms in his hotel room at night. He’s grown attached to you, addicted one might even say.

He doesn’t know what this is, neither of you have put a label on it yet, but the time you’re spending together sure feels an awful lot like the time a couple would spend together.

He was equally relieved and terrified when you told him that you wanted to make your relationship public. It was in his hotel room, you were wrapped up in his arms and a blanket, playing with his hands when you told him. He was glad to hear that you were in fact dating, that his heart could stop clenching every time he was with you, wondering if it was going to be the last.

He however knew that he was not mentally or physically prepared to find out what was going to happen when Toto found out. Was he going to lose his job? His life? Both were reasonable expectations in his head.

You’d been around George long enough now to sense his unease. You sit up, slightly pulling yourself away from him. “Unless… you don’t want to…”

He can’t speak, he can’t find the right words to say, he’s seemingly paralyzed.

“Okay. I get it.” You say, getting up from his bed. “You can’t date the boss’s daughter. Obviously. It was stupid to think this could work.”

He scrambles up from the bed when he finally processes your words. His sweatpants get caught in the blanket, tugging them lower down his hips. “Y/n, wait-”

You grab your small bag you brought to his room and walk to the door. “It’s okay George. Really, I understand.” You sigh. “I had fun though.” You give him a small smile before leaving.

He gives you space for the rest of the night, hoping that he’ll be able to find you at the track the next day to talk things through. He’s surprised when he doesn’t see you anywhere. He attempts to casually ask Toto where you had gone.

Toto doesn’t think twice before answering. “She wasn’t feeling well. She took a plane back home this morning.”

He waits for you to appear again, race after race after race, hoping that you’ll come back and talk to him. He tries calling, texting, even messaging you via instagram, all of which go ignored.

He feels like he’s lost a part of himself. And he’s determined to get that back.

Toto is surprised to find George at the door to his home over the break. The poor British driver wrapped up in a coat, shivering, clutching an almost frozen looking bouquet in his hands.

“George? What are you doing?” He asks.

George takes a deep breath. “I’m here to see Y/n. We were together during the season, but I made a mistake, and now I’m here to apologize and ask her if she’ll have me. Again.”

Toto looks even more confused. “You were dating my daughter?”

George gulps. “Yes. I was. And it was amazing, and I really care about her. And I would like to keep… dating your daughter…” he trails off.

“Leave.” Toto attempts to shut the door.

“Dad?” George sees you appear behind your father. “George, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to apologize. I shouldn’t have let you leave, and I should’ve been able to make our relationship public. I’m here to ask you for another chance.”

You brush your father out of the way, and grab onto George’s free hand, pulling him inside and closing the door behind him. His hand is freezing, and you feel just how cold his cheeks are when you softly cup his face. You don’t know if the pink blush on his face is from you or the cold.

“No. This is not happening. Absolutely not.” Toto says.

“Dad, I’m dating George. Whether you like it or not.” You turn to face him. “George is a good guy. You know that, you see him practically every weekend. And I’m going to be very upset if you kill and/or fire my boyfriend.”

Toto looks back and forth between the two of you. George with his wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and you with a pout on your lips and your eyebrows raised, as if challenging him to do something.

“Fine. You can date my daughter. But no sneaking away at races.” Then he looks directly at you. “No going into his driver’s room.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, I won’t go into George’s driver’s room anymore.”

“Anymore?!”

You giggle as George tries to hide himself behind you.

#george russell x reader #gr63 x reader #formula one x reader

[doromoni]

Caffeine of Choice | AA23 , GR63 , LN4

Ships : Platonic! 2019 F1 Rookies x Red Bull Driver! Reader

Genre : Fluff

A/N : wrote some short fluff for our 2019 rookies! Clash of Champions has got me angstyy , I needed a break.

Summary : The Rookies of 2019 cannot believe your choice of caffeine boost.

“You literally race for an energy drink, what do you mean you don’t like Red Bull??” George exclaimed, quite loudly that people now started looking with weird glances.

“Keep your voice low, George! I just got this seat and I’m trying to keep it” You swatted the Brit on the arm.

“Yeah, have fun on that Y/N” Alex snorted, being an Ex Red Bull driver himself.

“ Oh Don’t tell me you drink coffee,” Lando said in disgust, sticking his tongue out for good measure.

You and the 2019 Rookies of Formula 1 were inside the Mercedes Motorhome, and George had smuggled you and Lando in. Alex being there was no problem with him being in Williams and all.

The topic of caffeine boost had suddenly become the topic at hand when Lando had chugged and downed another can of Monster.

And that brings it back to you when you admitted that you don’t like drinking energy drinks … which was awkward since you were driving for the world’s most famous energy drink.

“First of all, yes I drink coffee. But I prefer matcha” I said back to the McLaren Driver as you took his empty can and threw it into the bin

“Grass?? You like to drink grass??” Lando asked horrified by your drink of choice.

“What do you mean, grass?? You’re British! You literally drink Leaves!!” You rebutted, mildly offended that they were laughing.

The other 2 couldn’t help but laugh even further.

“Oh shush it , will you Russell? You drown yourself in tea! And Alex you’re basically British! You guys literally drink leaf soup!!” You exclaimed with your hand in the air waving.

“ But we don’t drink tea for a boost in caffeine, Y/N” George reasoned out, as the 2 remaining drivers were laughing their asses off.

“Oh, shut up! Matcha has been proven to be more effective than coffee!” You reasoned out

“No one said anything about coffee being better than matcha, Y/N!” Alex wheezed out, still laughing. Now tears started to fall from their eyes.

“Urgh! I hate all of you! Enjoy your bloody leaf soup, Monsters and Red Bull drinks! “ You glared at your friends, who liked to gang up on you.

“We don’t drink Red Bull! But you really should, Y/N. Show some support for the team” Lando teased with his face red.

“Screw you guys, I'm leaving!”

You rolled your eyes and stood up from your seat.

“Where are you going?? “ George asked

“I’m going to find Max, at least He supports my drink of choice! unlike you people“ you struck your tongue out at them and you left for your motorhome

Just when you reach your destination.

“Hi, ms. Y/N! How about a can of Red Bull?”

Nevermind. I'm going to RB and find Yuki.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagine #mclaren #red bull racing #mercedes formula one #f1 fic #lando norris #george russel imagine #f1 grid x reader #formula 1 fic #mercedes amg f1 #williams racing #alex albon #aa23 #gr63 #ln4 #formula 1 fanfic #ln4 fluff #gr63 x reader #aa23 x reader #ln4 fic #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #mclaren formula 1 #mercedes #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you

[leclercings]

Nicknamed | George Russell x Reader

Genre: Blurb

Pairing: George Russell x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend loves making up new nicknames for you.

A/N: Giving a nickname to your significant other is just so cute asdfgghjkl

You sit next to your boyfriend, watching Gone Girl on Netflix. You're at the edge of your seat.

“Dumpling, you should sit comfortably.”

You look at him, confused.

“Did you just call me dumpling?”

“I did.”

George scoots closer to you, and takes a handful of the popcorn from the bowl.

You let it go. What a weird nickname.

Just as the movie ends, there is complete silence. You're both stunned at the ending. It was worth the watch.

You stretch yourself a bit. George gets up.

“Would you like some coffee, sugarplum?”

You chuckle. Another nickname.

“Yes, sweetie pie.” You tease him gently, and he grins at you.

“Nope. Nope. Nicknames are my job, jaan.” He says, walking to the kitchen to filter the coffee.

Your heart is filled with joy when he uses a word from your native language. You beam, following him inside the kitchen.

You wrap your arms around him and give him a hug. He turns around and softly kisses your forehead. You love how George comes up with the most unique nicknames, and you adore him for it.

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @barcelonaloverf1life @too-many0-0fandoms @cliosunshine @nebarious @lichterfee @notleclerc @chrace

#f1 #formula 1 #george russell #leclecings #gr63 leclercings #gr63 x reader #gr63 #george russell x reader #george russell x you #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 one shot #f1blr

[schuminis47]

george took floor pics to the next level

#george russell #aus gp 2024 #carlos sainz #gr63 x reader #mercedes #f1 x reader #formula 1 angst #logan sargeant x reader

[norrussell]

Home | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Word count: 8316

Summary: it's been a week since George and you separated. One night he unexpectedly returns, but has enough time passed for everything to go back to normal?

Warnings: angst angst angst, fluff, more angst, but then even more fluff

A/N: Finallyyyyyy part 5 is here!!!! First of all, I want to thank everyone for reading, following, sharing, loving and supporting this mini series. I've had the time of my life writing this, something that's been brewing inside me for too long and I'm happy this platform allowed me to share it and for it to be so well received. Even if some of you called me evil for the things in part 4, but hey, I tried to make the plot interesting and unpredictable as much as I could. It would be boring if everything always ended in the same way, would it not? With that being said, I hope I manage to buy your forgiveness for the awful things in this FINAL part of bsf!George series! ♥♥♥ P.S. This song was a great inspoooo, you can thank it for getting this part

Previous part

George wasn’t mad at you. No, he was mad at himself. Mad at how his heart had betrayed him and at how he had let himself fall for someone he knew he couldn’t have. He should’ve been better at taking care of you last night, at keeping his feelings in check. He couldn't believe that he had let his feelings spill out like that, knowing deep down that it might push you away. And alcohol was no excuse. He just should’ve known better.

He stepped out of the building, the cold morning air biting at his skin, and walked towards his car, his mind filled with you. He couldn't bear to look up, couldn't bear to see the window where you stood, the image of your pained expression etched in his mind. George clenched his fists, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over once again. He had never felt so helpless, so lost.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. He tried to steady his breathing as he replayed the scene in his mind over and over again. The look of shock on your face, the pain in your eyes as you pushed him away. How could he have been so foolish to think that confessing his love would solve everything? It only complicated things further, driving a wedge between the two of you.

“Dammit!” he hit the steering wheel out of frustration. He wanted to run back and knock on your door, to beg for a chance to make things right, to plead with you to give him another opportunity. But he knew deep down that he had to respect your space, your need for time to sort through your emotions. He couldn't bear the thought of causing you more pain by being any more selfish and demanding your immediate attention.

And there was no time either. Race week had started and he had to go home and pack if he meant to catch the evening flight. The further he drove from your apartment the more he felt like he was getting away from a future he had allowed himself to envision with you.

When he finally reached his apartment, he sat in his car for what felt like an eternity, staring blankly ahead. The thought of packing for the race seemed inconsequential now, a triviality in the face of the emotional storm raging inside him. But he knew he had to keep moving forward, even if every fiber of his being wanted to turn back and fight for you.

The apartment felt empty and cold, mirroring the ache in his chest. He mechanically packed his bags, his movements robotic as he tried to push down the torrent of feelings threatening to overwhelm him. The sweater you had borrowed from him lay crumpled on the bed, a painful reminder of what had transpired between you.

As George zipped up his suitcase, he paused, his hand hovering over the sweater. With a determined glint in his eyes, he picked it up and folded it carefully, tucking it into a corner of his bag. It was a small reminder of you, a piece of him that he couldn't bear to leave behind. It was the second best thing if you don’t show up on the track like it was planned as well.

The drive to the airport was a blur, the city passing by in a haze as George wrestled with his inner turmoil. Should he have fought harder? Should he have just left without a fight? The questions swirled in his mind, each one stabbing at his heart like a jagged knife.

He barely remembered checking in for his flight, the motions automatic and distant. The loudspeaker announcements and bustling crowds at the airport seemed to fade into the background as he found his seat on the plane and as the engines roared to life, propelling the aircraft down the runway, George's mind was still consumed by thoughts of you.

The plane ascended into the sky, leaving behind the city where his heart remained tangled with yours. He stared out of the window, watching the landscape below shrink into miniature shapes. The distance between him and you grew with each passing second, yet he couldn't shake off the feeling that a part of him was left behind, anchored to you.

The flight attendant interrupted his reverie, offering him a drink with a polite smile. George instinctively accepted, taking a sip of the lukewarm coffee but hardly registering its taste. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, regret and longing mingling with uncertainty about what the future held for him and for you.

He made a silent promise to himself, a promise to give you all the space you needed while also holding onto hope for a future where your paths might converge once again.

-

You spent the whole week thinking. Wondering. Realizing. You barely left your apartment or moved from that one spot on your couch. You couldn’t enter your bedroom without being reminded of George, the memories of his presence lingering in every corner. The faint scent of his cologne still clung to the air, a painful reminder of the intimacy you had shared.

It wasn’t just your bedroom. Your whole apartment was full of him. Starting from the clothes that were piling up every time you had borrowed something and never returned. They were now neatly folded in his section of your closet.

The books he lent you, with his notes scribbled in the margins, were scattered on the coffee table. You picked up one of them, running your fingers over his handwriting, feeling a pang of nostalgia for the easy camaraderie you shared. But now, everything felt tainted by the confession he had made, by the emotions that had spilled out into the open and shattered the already fragile balance between you.

In the kitchen, he had his mug he always used and you didn't let anyone else touch it. “It is George's mug,” you would say. At the time you didn't think anything of it, but was it normal that friends had such possession over each other's items? Not that you were just friends, though, were you? The events of that night had made it abundantly clear that there was a depth to your relationship that extended beyond mere friendship. But where did that leave you now? Confusion clouded your thoughts, making it hard to see a way forward.

Maybe the worst part was that he even had his own toothbrush in your bathroom. How often did he crash that he–or you–needed to buy one? Next to it was his razor. No, that was definitely the worst. He shaves almost every morning and you found yourself wondering how many times had he stood in your bathroom, meticulously shaving before a big race, the sound of the blade scraping against his skin, a familiar background noise in your shared space? How many mornings had you watched him from the doorway, a warm feeling blooming in your chest at the sight of him so vulnerable yet so achingly familiar? It was a mundane yet intimate act that now felt like a distant memory, a relic of a time when things were simpler between you.

The realization that George had seamlessly become a part of your daily routine hit you like a ton of bricks. How could you go back to your normal life without him now that he had made himself so at home in your space?

The signs. They were all over. And you were blind. Too blind. Maybe even deliberately so. Standing there, you realized it was like you did everything backwards. First it was like he lived there, was your lover, friend and now a stranger. Isn't it how it always ends though? Ultimately with every ending, a person you part with becomes a stranger. Maybe not literally so, but the person you knew turns into someone you don't recognize anymore and that's what leads to a break up.

Not that you and George were completely over, far from it, but that's what happened when he confessed his love. You couldn't recognize him as your friend anymore. That wasn't your friend, couldn't be.

You moved through your apartment like a ghost, your steps heavy with the weight of sorrow. Every corner held a piece of George, a piece of the life you had built together without even realizing it. How could you have been so blind to the depth of his feelings for you? How could you have missed the signs that now seemed glaringly obvious in hindsight?

The toothbrush in the bathroom seemed to mock you, a symbol of the intimacy that had grown between you and now lay shattered at your feet. Frowning, you went to the kitchen and pulled out a cardboard box out of your pantry. You started shoving each and every of his belongings into it.

The once familiar space of your apartment now felt foreign and cold, stripped of the warmth and comfort that George had brought into it. You couldn't bear to look at the empty spot in the closet where his clothes used to hang or the blank space on the coffee table where his books had once been. It was as if he had never been there at all, as if all of it had been nothing but a figment of your imagination.

You sealed the box shut and left it by the front door. You’ll send the stuff back. Or throw them away if he doesn’t want them. Either is good. But not just yet. You wanted to hold onto them just for a little while longer. You sat on the floor next to it, buried your face in your hands and finally allowed yourself to cry.

-

George busied himself with media stuff and training. His days were a whirlwind of interviews and practice sessions, leaving no solitary moment to spend lost in thought. He threw himself into his work and training with a fervor that bordered on obsession. Every spare moment was filled with activity, leaving no room for the thoughts of you that threatened to consume him. Or so he thought.

“Okay, that’s it.” his trainer announced. “We’re done for today.”

“Aw man, I was just in the zone,” George protested, a bead of sweat trailing down his forehead.

“I don’t know what zone you were in, but you were definitely not focused. Your mind is somewhere else today. Like it was yesterday, and the day before.” the trainer replied, eyeing George with a knowing look. “I need you here, present.”

“Don't know how much more present I can be, I am literally here,” George frowned.

“Physically you are, but I need you mentally,” the trainer said and touched the side of George’s head. “I don’t mind training with you twice or even three times a day, but it’s obvious you’re running away from something.”

George's facade cracked, a flicker of vulnerability betraying the stoic mask he wore. He knew he couldn't keep up the charade any longer, not with his trainer's penetrating gaze boring into him. With a heavy sigh, he slumped down on a nearby bench, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

“I told her,” he confessed, the words tumbling out like a dam breaking. “I told her how I felt, and she... I don’t know how to fix it.”

His trainer sat down next to him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “So you finally confessed.”

“I didn’t mean to. It just slipped. We were having a fight because-”

“Because?”

He stopped, the memories flooding back in a rush. The fight replayed in his mind like a broken record, the sharp words and raw emotions still fresh in his heart. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before continuing.

“We got drunk and did something we shouldn’t have. We, uh, slept together. And it's not just that. There were things that happened even before...”

He felt his trainer's gaze studying him, waiting for the rest of the story. George hesitated, unsure if he should reveal more. But the words spilled out before he could stop them.

“It wasn’t just a mistake, though,” George admitted, his voice laced with regret. “I’ve been in love with her for a while now, you know that. I thought maybe she felt the same way, but when I told her...” He trailed off, unable to articulate the ache in his chest.

“She pushed me away,” George revealed, his voice barely a whisper. “Told me she didn’t see us that way. And now everything is so messed up between us. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“But she didn’t call it a mistake, did she?” His trainer's question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. George looked up, his eyes meeting the trainer's intense gaze.

“No, she didn’t,” George replied, a hint of confusion in his voice. “She just...said we needed space. That she needed space.”

His trainer nodded thoughtfully, absorbing George’s words. “Sometimes, space is what’s needed to gain a better perspective on things.”

George let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples as if trying to ease the tension that coiled within him. “I just can’t shake this feeling that I’ve ruined everything. That I’ve lost her completely.”

“You haven’t lost her, George,” the trainer reassured him, his tone firm yet gentle. “Sometimes, taking a step back is what you both need to figure things out. Give her the space she asked for, but don’t lose hope. Love has a way of finding its way back to where it belongs.”

George looked up at his trainer, gratitude shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry to burden you with all this. Thank you for listening.”

“Don’t apologize, G, that’s what I’m here for. Not only to care about your body, but also your mind.” The trainer patted George on the back, a reassuring smile on his face. “It’s good to get it all out in the open. Now that you’ve told her how you feel, the ball is in her court. Give her some time to process everything, and in the meantime, focus on yourself. You can’t control how she feels or what she decides to do, but you can control how you handle this situation.”

George nodded, the weight on his shoulders feeling a little lighter with his trainer’s words of wisdom.

“Now go back to your room, take a shower, relax. And remember, this too shall pass. Tomorrow is a big day and she would like you to do good.”

George nodded in understanding once more, a sense of calm finally settling over him.

-

You never had to face any challenges alone. You always had George by your side and together, you could conquer anything. But now he turned into one of those challenges and you had to figure it out on your own. You knew deep down that the space was necessary, that you both needed time to think this through and figure out what you truly wanted in order to move on.

The familiar sounds of the city outside your window seemed to echo the turmoil in your heart. Each passing day felt like an eternity as you grappled with the weight of your decisions and the ache of George's absence.

You found yourself reaching for your phone multiple times throughout the day, your thumb hovering over his contact name before pulling back at the last second. You wanted to call him, to hear his voice and to mend the broken pieces between you two. But something always held you back. Not just yet.

You busied yourself with mundane tasks to distract yourself from thoughts of George, but his absence lingered like a ghost in every corner of your home.

A notification went off on your phone, reminding you of the race weekend approaching. If everything were right, you would be packing your bags and catching a flight and not choking on your tears in the living room, clutching your phone. The reminder only served to intensify the whirlwind of emotions already swirling inside you. You should’ve been there with him, cheering him on and supporting him through the highs and lows of the weekend. But now, the distance between you felt insurmountable, a chasm of uncertainty and unspoken words.

You missed him more than words could express, more than tears could convey.

On Saturday, you turned the TV on and watched the qualifying session even though you promised you wouldn’t. It would only torture you more. But you felt obligated to support him even from a distance, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he would feel the warmth of your encouragement seeping through the miles that separated you.

The cars raced around the track, their engines roaring like thunder in the distance. You couldn't help but watch, your heart heavy with a mix of longing and regret. Each turn they took on the screen mirrored the twists and turns of your own emotions, the unpredictability of the future weighing heavily on your mind.

As you watched the cars speed by, a flash of black caught your eye. It was George's car, unmistakable even from a distance. Your heart leaped into your throat as you saw him maneuvering through the pack with skill and determination. Despite everything that had transpired between you, a part of you still held out hope for a future where you two could find your way back to each other.

But now, as you watched him from afar, a sense of regret gnawed at you. You should have been there beside him, sharing in his triumphs and soothing his defeats. Instead, you were stuck in this limbo of unreliability and self-reflection.

The qualifying session seemed to pass in a blur, the cars flashing by like ghosts on the screen, but George’s final lap had you holding your breath. When his time flashed on the screen, you let out a heavy sigh. It was a good time, but not good enough to qualify on the front. You couldn’t help but think that maybe if you had been there, things would have turned out differently. A pang of guilt tugged at your heart as you watched George’s disappointed expression on the screen. You wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, but you knew it was impossible.

You turned the TV off. The weight of your decision to give each other space settled deeper in your chest as you stared at the blank screen, the remnants of George's image still burned in your mind. The silence of your apartment felt stifling, suffocating you with its emptiness. You knew that you needed to make a decision soon, to either reach out to George and try to mend what was broken or to continue down this path of separation and solitude.

The following day, you woke up with a heaviness in your chest. It was race day. Would George be able to focus on the race with everything that had transpired between you two? Would he be thinking of you as he navigated each turn and straightaway? Is he even thinking of you?

As the race time drew near, you found yourself pacing around the apartment, unable to sit still. Your phone lay on the coffee table, silent and untouched. In normal circumstances, you would send him a message of encouragement, a simple "Good luck" to let him know you were thinking of him. But now, the words stuck in your throat. You didn’t want to give him false hope in case you needed more time before you finally talk. No, it was better this way.

The sound of the commentator's voice filled the room, announcing the start of the race. You couldn't bring yourself to look at the TV this time, the thought of watching George out on the track without you by his side in this situation too painful to bear. Instead, you stood by the window, staring out at the city below as if searching for some semblance of clarity in its bustling streets.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, each passing second heavy with anticipation and anxiety. Finally, the roar of engines reached a crescendo, signaling the end of the race. Your heart raced alongside them, unsure of what news awaited you.

You turned to the TV, your hands trembling as you searched for George's name amidst the list of racers. When you finally found it, your heart dropped. He was in the top 10, he scored points, but you knew it was not the result he wanted.

You couldn't help but feel responsible, as if it was your decision to give each other space that had kept you both from achieving satisfaction and now you had to live with the consequences. A tear rolled down your cheek as you thought about what could have been if you had chosen a different path.

In the quiet moments that followed, you realized that you had set yourself on this course of action alone, but you had no idea where it would lead. You needed to take a deep breath and figure out what you wanted from this arrangement, and whether it was possible to have the life you both deserved with each other.

-

You were getting ready for bed and it was around midnight when you heard a knock on your door. You frowned, thinking who could it possibly be at this late hour or if to even open at all. With cautious steps, you made your way to the door, a sense of apprehension tightening your chest. As you reached for the doorknob, you paused, gathering your courage before swinging the door open.

You expected a neighbor, or anyone else, but standing before you, illuminated by the dim light filtering in from the hallway, was George. His usual confident demeanor was replaced by a vulnerability you had never seen before. His eyes, usually bright, now held a mixture of sadness and longing as they met yours.

“I could’ve gone to my apartment, but it is cold and empty and I wanted to… come home.” George's voice was barely above a whisper, the words heavy with emotion.

You stood there, stunned by his unexpected presence, unsure of what to say or how to react. The air between you crackled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings, the tension palpable in the space that separated your bodies.

“But I see now that was a mistake. You clearly—” but as he reached to take his bag, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, catching him off guard.

“You’re home,” you murmured against his chest, holding him tighter.

George hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond to your embrace. But as he felt the warmth of your arms around him, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift, and he slowly returned the hug. The barriers that had kept you apart for so long melted away in that single embrace, leaving behind a sense of relief and an unspoken promise of forgiveness.

“I missed you,” you choked out, your voice barely audible. “I missed you so much, George.”

His response was to hold you tighter, as if trying to erase the distance and time that had separated you.

“I missed you too,” George whispered, his voice shaking with tears he was holding back. “I missed you every single day.”

The silence that enveloped you was no longer suffocating but comforting, a space where words were no longer necessary to convey the depth of your feelings for each other.

After what felt like an eternity, George finally pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt. But all he found was a deep-rooted affection and a silent plea for a fresh start.

“Come in,” you finally said, whipping away little tears and moving aside.

George stepped inside, his eyes never leaving yours as if searching for any hint of uncertainty. As he walked further into the apartment, you couldn't help but notice how the dim light from the hallway accentuated the lines of weariness on his face, lines that spoke of sleepless nights and unanswered questions.

You led him to the living room, both of you enveloped in a cocoon of silence that felt both heavy and fragile. George sat down on the arm chair, his hands fidgeting with the straps of his bag, while you perched on the edge of the couch, unsure of what to say or do next.

“Are you hungry? I can make you something quickly—”

“No need,” George interrupted, his voice soft yet firm. You nodded, another silence falling among you.

“No offense, George, but you look awful,” you couldn't help but blurt out, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. George's head shot up, surprise flickering in his tired eyes, before a hint of amusement crept in.

“I haven’t slept in days, y/n,” he replied as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

A pang of guilt twinged in your chest at his admission, but also relief that you weren’t the only one having nights with little to no sleep.

“I understand,” you said softly. George nodded, his expression a mix of exhaustion and relief at being back in your presence.

“You know what I’m the most tired of?” he didn’t wait for your answer. “Being apart from you.” he opened his eyes and met yours.

Tears welled up in your eyes at George's heartfelt confession, his words echoing the sentiments you had been carrying in your own heart all this time. You reached out a trembling hand to brush a lock of hair away from his face, your fingertips lingering on his cheek as if trying to memorize the feel of his skin.

“I’m sorry for what I put us both through—”

George placed a finger against your lips, silencing your apology. “Y/n,” he called, his tone warning. “I’m tired.” his eyes darted to your lap and then back to your eyes again and you understood.

“Okay,” you said softly. “We’ll talk in the morning. Come here now.” you pulled yourself on the couch and patted your thighs, making room for him to lay and rest his head on your lap.

You ran your fingers through his hair, the simple act bringing a sense of peace and familiarity that had been missing in both your lives for more than long.

In the soft glow of the lamp beside the couch, you sat together in silence, the rhythmic pattern of your fingers against his scalp creating a soothing lullaby that seemed to calm the storm raging within both of you.

“Did you watch the race?” he murmured.

"Yes, I did," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I watched it all."

George let out a heavy sigh, the weight of his exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders. "So you saw me messing up," his voice tinged with regret.

You continued to run your fingers through his hair, offering him comfort in your touch. “You didn't mess up. You did well, George. Top 10 is nothing to be disappointed about. I’m proud of you.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he closed his eyes, basking in the comfort of your touch. “I wanted more,” he admitted softly, a hint of frustration seeping into his words.

You smiled, somehow finding it unusual he wanted to make a small talk out of his race. He never wanted to do that if he wasn’t satisfied with the results. But everything was better than talking about you two at the moment, you guessed.

“You always want more, George,” you replied, a teasing lilt in your voice. “But you gave it your all out there. That’s what matters,” you reassured him, your voice gentle and soothing.

George let out a contented sigh, his body relaxing against yours. The weight of the past seemed to lift off his shoulders with each passing moment spent in your embrace. He turned his head slightly, looking up at you with a mix of gratitude and longing in his eyes. "Thank you for letting me come back," he whispered.

A wave of tenderness washed over you as you gazed down at him, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity in his expression. Without a word, you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, a silent promise of forgiveness and understanding.

As George closed his eyes, a sense of peace settled between you, the weight of past grievances slowly lifting.

“Tell me what you did without me. I want to listen to your voice,” he said, his words trailing off as sleep began to claim him.

You smiled softly, a warmth spreading through your chest at his request. But how were you to tell him about all the days spent missing him, about the hollow ache in your chest that only his presence could fill, about the countless moments when a simple sight or sound would bring back memories of him flooding into your mind. How could you convey the depth of your longing, the way his absence had left a void in your life that no amount of distractions could fill? How were you to tell him that the most you’ve done in the week was pack his things in a cardboard box that was still by the door?

But you knew George needed to rest, to find solace in the peaceful refuge you offered him. So, you began recounting mundane details of your days, from the way the sun cast golden hues through the windows in the mornings to the sound of rain tapping against the roof on lonely nights. You spoke of small victories and minor setbacks, all the while keeping your voice soft and soothing as he drifted off into a much-needed slumber.

As George's breathing evened out, you continued to stroke his hair gently, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against your thighs. The apartment was quiet, the only sound was the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

You leaned back against the couch, your thoughts swirling with memories of the time you had spent apart. The ache of missing him had been a constant companion, a dull throb in your heart that no amount of distraction could alleviate. And now that he was here, lying in your lap once more, you were at a loss for how to bridge the gap that had formed between you. But that will have to wait till morning.

With a heavy sigh, you shifted slightly on the couch, careful not to disturb George, and closed your eyes.

-

A motion woke you. You were moving, but not of your own volition. As consciousness slowly seeped back into your mind, you realized that the movement was not yours alone. Someone was carrying you, their arms wrapped securely around your body. Confusion and fear jolted through you as you tried to make sense of the situation.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself met with darkness. The soft glow of the lamp by the couch was nowhere to be seen, leaving you disoriented in the black void surrounding you. The arms holding you tightened slightly, a silent reassurance in their grip.

"George?" you whispered, the word barely audible even to your own ears. A shiver ran down your spine as the silence stretched on, broken only by the sound of footsteps echoing in the dark.

A voice, deep and familiar, cut through the void. "It's me," George whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear. You could feel his heart beating steadily against your back as he carried you towards the bedroom.

You wanted to protest, to insist that he didn’t have to go through the trouble, but the comfort of his embrace and the rhythmic sway of his movements lulled you into compliance. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent that brought a sense of peace unlike anything else.

Before you knew it, you found yourself being laid down gently on the soft bed.

"I'm sorry for waking you," he whispered, his voice tinged with regret. "I just couldn't bear to leave you there on the couch."

You reached out a hand to find him in the darkness, intertwining your fingers with his as a silent reassurance that it was alright.

“Stay with me,” you breathed.

George's hand tightened around yours, his touch grounding you. “No, let’s not repeat past…” he trailed off, not wanting to call it a mistake. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Then let me sleep on the couch, you can stay here—” you insisted, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them. You sat up, the covers pooling at your waist, and made to move off the bed. But George’s hand on your arm stopped you, his touch gentle yet firm.

“No,” he murmured, his voice holding a note of determination that brooked no argument. “I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.” he kissed your forehead and left the room.

-

You woke up to the first light of dawn filtering in through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, the events of the previous night almost feeling dreamlike. That’s when your eyes shot up and you bolted upright in bed, the bed sheets slipping off your body as you stumbled out of bed and ran to the living room almost tripping over your two feet.

You leaned against the doorframe and breathed a sigh of relief as you spotted him sleeping still on your couch. It wasn’t a dream. He was really there. Silently, you made your way over to him and sat down in the arm chair beside the couch.

You took in the sight of him. He was sleeping on his stomach with mouth slightly parted, stretched out with his whole length that his feet were dangling over the armrest. His hair was tousled, and the early morning light painted a golden hue over his features, highlighting the faint stubble on his jawline and the way his eyelashes swept against his cheeks.

The blanket he found was too short to cover his whole frame and the decorative pillow he used as a makeshift headrest had slid slightly to the side. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, a surge of affection welling up inside you as you watched him sleep so peacefully.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to simply be in his presence, to take in the quiet intimacy of this shared space. The distance that had seemed insurmountable in the past now felt like a small gap waiting to be bridged. With each rise and fall of George’s chest, you felt a renewed sense of hope blooming within you.

“… You’re staring.” George murmured without opening his eyes.

You immediately turned away, a blush creeping in. “I was not.”

“I could feel the intensity of it, even with my eyes closed.” you could hear the chuckle in his voice.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. You shifted in your seat, trying to appear nonchalant as you averted your gaze from George’s sleeping form.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his eyes still closed. “I don’t mind.”

You risked a glance back at him, finding his lips turned up in a small, lopsided smile. The warmth in his expression eased the tension coiled within you, and you couldn’t help but return his smile.

“Hey, y/n, look at me,” he said and your eyes finally met, making you suck in a deep breath. “Good morning,” he smiled.

“Good morning,” you replied. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I did,” George answered, pushing himself up into a sitting position on the couch. He stretched his arms above his head, letting out a contented sigh.

"You should have slept in the bed," you said, unable to keep the words from spilling out. "I could have taken the couch."

George shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm fine here," he assured you, his voice warm and gentle. "Besides, I've slept on worse during my travels."

You shook your head, but chuckled anyway, the tension ebbing away as you let yourself relax into the moment.

“Do you… Do you want to stay for breakfast? I could make us something to eat,” you offered, a flicker of hope dancing in your eyes.

George’s smile widened, his gaze meeting yours with a softness that made your heart flutter. “Yes, I would love that, y/n,” he replied, gratitude shining in his eyes.

“Great!” You rose from the arm chair, a newfound sense of determination fueling your steps as you made your way to the kitchen. The familiar sounds of George following behind you brought a smile to your lips, the simple act of sharing a meal together filling you with a warmth that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I’ll just wash up while you prepare the food,” George offered, rolling up his sleeves as he headed towards the bathroom to freshen up.

The sound of running water mingled with the clinking of dishes as you set about gathering ingredients for breakfast.

As you cracked eggs into a bowl, a sense of contentment washed over you. George’s presence in your home felt right, like a missing piece clicking into place. The aroma of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen, punctuated by the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee. But the magic of the morning was disrupted when George called for you.

“Um, y/n, did you throw away my toothbrush?”

You froze mid-crack, the eggshell slipping from your fingers and landing in the bowl with a soft splat. The box.

You quickly wiped your hands on a kitchen towel and rushed to the bathroom, where George was standing with an open toiletry bag in his hand. “I thought I left my toothbrush here,” he said, a puzzled expression on his face.

Your heart sank as you remembered how you packed all of his things into a cardboard box and put it by the front door, looking to erase any trace of him from your apartment. The guilt washed over you in a wave, knowing that you had acted rashly in a moment of hurt and confusion.

“George, I…” you began, but the words caught in your throat. How could you tell him that you had packed up his belongings, fully intending to remove every trace of him from your place? The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken regret and heartache.

George’s expression shifted from confusion to understanding, his gaze flickering with a mix of disappointment and resignation. “You were going to send my things back,” he stated quietly, more as a statement of fact than a question.

You nodded wordlessly, unable to meet his eyes as shame burned hot in your cheeks. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, the weight of your actions crashing down on you with full force. “I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay, y/n,” George interrupted gently, his voice soft and forgiving. “I understand why you did it.” He reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. “I know things have been difficult between us, but we can talk about it. We can figure this out together.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally dared to look at him, seeing the sincerity in his gaze that mirrored the ache in your own heart. “I never wanted to push you away,” you whispered, the words heavy with regret. “I just… I didn’t know how to handle everything.”

George’s thumb brushed away a stray tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and full of understanding. “We both made mistakes,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t try to make things right.”

A surge of hope blossomed within you at his words, a flicker of light in the darkness that had clouded your hearts for so long. But all of a sudden, the apartment smelled of burning.

“Oh my God, the bacon!” You bolted back to the kitchen, where smoke billowed from the skillet on the stove. The once-crackling bacon lay charred and forgotten, a victim of your distraction. Frantically waving a towel to disperse the smoke, you turned off the burner and opened a window to let the acrid fumes escape.

George followed you into the kitchen, a chuckle escaping his lips at the sight of the burnt bacon. “Well, I guess breakfast is going to be delayed a bit,” he remarked, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

You couldn’t help but join in his laughter, the tension that had gripped your heart moments ago loosening its hold. “I promise I’m a better cook than this,” you said, a sheepish grin on your face as you cleared away the charred remains of breakfast.

“I have no doubt about that,” George replied, stepping closer to you and taking the towel from your hands to help with the clean-up. The simple act of working together in harmony warmed your soul, a silent understanding passing between you as you moved around the kitchen in tandem. Once the cleaning was done, you both settled at the small kitchen table.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” you said, rushing to the corner by your front door.

You returned with the cardboard box that held George's things, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination.

“All your things are in here,” George watched as you placed the cardboard box on the table, his expression unreadable as you spoke. Silence enveloped the kitchen, broken only by the distant sounds of traffic outside. Talking about packing his stuff was one thing, but seeing that you actually did it was another. You held your breath, waiting for George’s response, unsure of what to expect. Would he be angry? Hurt? Disappointed?

Slowly, George reached out and lifted the lid of the box, his gaze flickering over the contents within. His fingers brushed against familiar items—a toothbrush, a worn paperback novel, a battered travel journal, a familiar beanie, the softly knit fabric a testament to the countless times he had worn it on chilly nights—as if seeking reassurance in their presence. 

George's eyes flickered between the contents of the box and your face, searching for any hint of what was to come. Your heart felt heavy with the weight of your actions, the fear of rejection looming over you like a storm cloud ready to burst.

“I never should have tried to erase you from my life like that. It was a mistake and I’m sorry.” you said. “You can have everything put back or take them with you. It’s your choice now. If it’s the latter, I’ll understand—”

“What do you want?” His voice was soft, but the question echoed loudly in the space between you. What did you want? It was a simple question with a million answers, each one more complicated than the last.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s not up to me—”

“It matters to me,” George interjected, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes. “I need to know what you want. Not what you think I want to hear, but what you truly desire in your heart.”

Blinking away the tears that threatened to fall, you met his gaze. “I want you back. All the time, everyday.”

George's expression softened, a mixture of relief and hope shining in his eyes. Without a word, he reached for your hand and pulled you onto his lap. You didn’t protest. The gesture was both familiar and foreign, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around you like a lifeline.

“I want that too, y/n,” George said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. “I want us to try again, to work through our problems together and rebuild what we had.” he rested his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around you as you leaned into him.

“I was so scared, George. When you confessed—”

“Look, we can pretend I never confessed if it means we’ll stay—”

“What?! No! You can’t just take back your confession! That’s such a cowardly move and the least I expected from you, George William Russell!”

George's eyes widened at your outburst, surprise flickering across his face before giving way to a mixture of amusement and affection. His grip on you tightened briefly before he loosened it, allowing you to turn around and face him. You could see the humor dancing in his eyes as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Oh no, you pulled the middle name card and now I’m terrified.” A chuckle escaped George’s lips, the tension between you both dissipating with each shared smile.

“I had to. I will not allow it. Especially not when I feel the same way towards you.” your admission hung in the air like a fragile thread, waiting to be strengthened or severed by the response it would elicit.

George’s eyes widened at your words, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt or uncertainty. “Eh… fucking pardon?"

“I’m in love with you too, George William. I mean it.” you even surprised yourself how easy it was to say it. You didn’t feel scared anymore. If anything, you felt invincible.

But seeing the look on his face made you doubt. You held your breath, waiting for his response, the silence stretching between you like an impassable chasm. What if he didn’t love you like that anymore? What if the space you have asked for helped him get over you? He did try to take back his confession.

Slowly, a smile spread across his face, breaking like the dawn after a long night.

“I… I don’t even know where to begin,” George murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I never expected…” He trailed off, at a loss for words as he reached up to cup your cheek, his touch gentle and reverent.

You rested your forehead against his, sighing in relief. “Time apart helped me open my eyes. I realized how much you mean to me, that I was so lost without you. I tried to fill the void your absence left with distractions and busyness, but nothing ever felt quite right. It was like a puzzle missing a piece, incomplete no matter how hard I tried to force it together. But now, with you here in front of me, holding me close and looking at me like I'm the only thing that matters, I finally feel whole again.”

George’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he listened to your heartfelt words, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. The weight of the past lingered in the air between you, but the warmth of your confession enveloped you both like a comforting embrace. In that moment, all the uncertainties and fears melted away, leaving only the truth of your feelings shining bright.

“I love you, y/n,” George finally whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “I never stopped loving you.”

You captured his lips in a tender kiss, pouring all your love and gratitude into the simple act, catching him off guard. But quickly, he kissed you back, burying his hands in your hair to pull you even closer.

It was a kiss filled with longing, with promises of a future together, of rediscovered love and unspoken apologies. The world outside faded away as you melted into each other, the taste of forgiveness and hope on your lips. The box of George’s things lay forgotten on the table, a silent witness to the reunion that had unfolded before it.

As you pulled back, George cupped your face in his hands, his gaze searching yours with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. “I want to make things right between us, y/n. I want us to rebuild what we had and create something even stronger. Will you give me that chance?”

There was no hesitation in your response as you nodded, a smile of pure joy lighting up your face. “Yes, George. I want that more than anything.”

You leaned in to kiss him again, but his stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the tender moment with a burst of laughter from both of you. George’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he sheepishly rubbed his stomach, a playful glint in his eyes.

“I think that’s a sign we should probably eat something,” he said with a chuckle.

You nodded, feeling your stomach join in with its own protest. “I think burnt bacon is off the menu for this morning,” you replied, teasingly.

George laughed and stood up, pulling you along with him. “Let’s order in. I’ll make sure this time it’s something edible.”

“What’s wrong with my cooking?”

George raised an eyebrow at your question, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Your cooking is charming. But let’s just say I prefer my bacon a little less… crispy.”

You playfully swatted his arm before following him to the living room, where the two of you settled down on the couch with your favorite takeout menus spread out. As you leaned against George’s side, the scent of new beginnings lingering in the air around you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for second chances and the love that never truly faded, no matter how much time had passed. Together, you began planning your first meal as a couple, laughter and joy filling the space that once held only precariousness and regret.

And as you listened to George’s easy banter and felt his fingers interlaced with yours, you knew deep in your heart that this time, everything would be different. This time, you both were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, hand in hand, knowing that you’ll always have each other.

#george russell x reader #george russell x you #george russell x y/n #george russell x oc #george russell imagine #george russell fluff #george russell fanfic #george russell one shot #george russell #gr63 #gr63 x reader #george russel x reader #george russel imagine #george russel #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 fluff #f1 angst #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x oc

[earlgreyflowers]

Smut promp list: george russell

15, 18, 52

George was getting frustrated, you could tell. The way his jaw clenched with every movement you made, every sound out of your mouth. You had been teasing him all night, winding him tight, trying to get him to snap. The moment you walked into the bedroom to him getting changed you knew he'd be putting you through hell. Something about George in a suit always got you going, but George half naked in just those tailored suit trousers, the muscular skin of his back on display, did something else to you. You had tried very hard to convince him you could be a little late to dinner but he wasn't giving in. That was when you decided that you were gonna give him a taste of his own medicine tonight.

George had driven you to the event, something he knew would drive you insane. He'd taken off his blazer to ensure it didn't get creased as he drove, leaving him in his white button-up. Your hand had slid over his as he changed gear, your painted nails gliding softly over his wrist. You saw the way he swallowed at the touch, taking a deep breath and ignoring you. Your wandering hands didn't stop, slipping over his thigh as he drove, squeezing gently. Your fingers inched toward his crotch, your body leaning slightly over the centre console of the car. Your breasts spilled out of your dress at the motion, your fingers feeling his cock swell at the touch. He turns to look at you, lust blown eyes, leaning in for a kiss. Your finger comes to cover his lips, "Red lipstick sweetheart, no stains." You tell him, turning to get out of the car.

For the rest of the night you'd been teasing him: running a finger over his crotch under the table when Lewis asked him a question; 'accidentally' spilling champagne over your chest when you tried to take a drink; placing a hand on the arm of one of the Mercedes' engineers and winking at George as his fingers tighten around his glass. The last straw was your conversation with Lewis. George watched on as you rested your head in your hands across the table, squeezing your breasts together. Normally he’d let you tease him like this but the second Lewis’ eyes dart down to your chest he loses it.

George stands abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping across the floor. He. Was. Pissed. You stand up equally as quickly, George muttering an excuse about you feeling unwell before hurrying you out. His hand holds a vice like grip over your wrist as he practically drags you towards the car. He opens the door for you before slamming it shut and slotting himself in the driver’s seat. The only sounds come from the road as he drives in silence, seething at you. Eventually he speaks.

“Touch yourself.”

“I- what?” You stutter, turning to look at your boyfriend. “You heard me, if you’re so fucking desperate that you have to whore yourself out in front of my teammate then touch yourself right now.” He demands, never once looking at you. The tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine and an ache between your legs. “Hurry up, we’ll be home soon.” He mutter, gesturing dismissively towards you with his hand.

You settle back against the seat, spreading your legs as best as you can. You pull the slit of your dress to the side and hike it up slightly, allowing George to see you have no underwear on. “You filthy slut, you’ve been naked under that dress this whole time?” He groans, his hand gripping the wheel tighter. You whimper softly as your fingers begin to rub circles against your clit. Your back arches at the contact, grateful for some relief from the ache.

George refuses to watch, death gripping the wheel as his trousers grow tighter. Your soft moans fill his ears, making him picture the way you look. Chest heaving as your head is thrown back, manicured hand between your legs. George’s hand reaches over and grasps your own, halting its actions. You whine at the loss, “You can’t cum without my permission,” George explains, pulling into the drive of your home. He parks the car before dragging your hand up to his mouth, his tongue flattening against the pads of your fingers. This time he maintains eye contact, his beautiful eyes staring you down as he sucks your fingers clean with a deep groan.

Without a word he gets out of the car, leaving you dumbfounded. He walks around to your side, opening the door and extending a hand to help you out. His hand slips around your waist as he leads you to the front door and lets you both inside. With a sharp hit to your ass, George sends you upstairs. “Strip and sit on the edge of the bed, no touching.” He demands, stalking to the kitchen as you scurry upstairs. You remove your dress, finding its hanger and slipping it back into the wardrobe. You perch yourself on the edge of the bed, grateful for central heating.

George clicks the door open, glass of water in hand. He places the water on your bedside table. He’d removed his blazer downstairs, leaving him in just the button-up and trousers. He rolled the sleeves of the shirt up before sitting next to you. “Come here darling.” George murmured, patting his lap. You lay yourself over his legs, allowing him to trail his hands over the bare skin of your back. “Do you think you deserve it my love?” He whispers, his hand smoothing over your ass. “Do you deserve for me to touch you after the way you acted?” You whine in response, shaking your head.

“No, I don’t deserve it, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you.” You whimper, beginning to squirm in his lap. “You don’t deserve it you’re right. But I’m going to give you something anyway, because you’re still my girl.” He says, placing a kiss to your cheek as you turn your head in his lap. His hand lands on your ass with a smack, your legs clenching at the pain. “Thank you.” You whimper, burying your face against his trousers. “Thank you, what?” He asks gruffly, his hand pulling your hair back. “Thank you sir.” You whine as his hand lands once more on the other cheek.

Hit after hit comes, each followed by a meagre thank you. Tears escape your eyes as the ache between your thighs grows. There was always something so sinful about you being fully naked in front of a fully clothed George, your willingness to please him making his cock twitch. He taps your thigh, signalling for you to move. You take your usual position, stomach down and ass up as you hear George’s clothes hit the ground.

The bed dips as he rejoins you, gentle kisses down your spine as your pussy clenches. George’s tip runs through your folds, coating it in your arousal. “Remember what I said in the car.” George tells you before sliding himself inside you. Whilst George wasn’t particularly thick, the length of his cock always had you stretching for him, feeling him in your stomach as he bottoms out. Your arousal is so intense that he slides in and out easily, the sticky sounds of the two of you connecting fill the room. “You take me so well, made for my cock aren’t you my love.” George groans, hands holding onto your hips as he thrusts.

The slam of his own hips against your reddened cheeks sends pleasure shooting through your core. You moan into the bedsheets, practically screaming for your boyfriend. George yanks your hair back around his fist, “I want to hear what I do to you, moan for me.” He moans, sinking his teeth lightly into your shoulder at the feeling of your pussy around his cock. “I’m so close sir, please can I cum? Want it so bad, can’t hold it.” You moan, hands fisting the sheets. George’s hand slips from your hair to between your legs, stimulating your clit with his slender fingers as he slams into you. “Need to feel you, cum for me, cover my cock baby.” He whines, his head dropping into your neck.

The bed creaks with the weight of his thrusts, drowned out by your moaning as you reach your peak. The feeling is enough to send George over the edge. Pulling out he pumps his hand over his cock twice before shooting ropes of cum over your lower back. Your legs give out as his fingers continue to rub at your clit, your weight against his hand stopping the movement. After a few minutes silence George rolls over, collecting some tissues to clean you up. He reaches into the bottom drawer to get the aloe vera, massaging the cooling gel into your ass gently. You whimper at the feeling but soon relax as the bitter sting is dampened.

You chug your glass of water before curling up against George, his arms wrapping around you. You fall asleep as he strokes your hair, declaring his love for you in a whisper before he too passes out.

#f1 smut #formula one smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #smut prompts #smut requests #smut writing #george russell x reader smut #george russell x you #george russell smut #george russell x reader #george russell #gr63 smut #gr63 x reader #gr63 #george russell x female reader #gr63 x you

[adventuringblind]

Okay WTF now I need a part 3 of Enemy Territory 😭 like bruh like who is finding out about the kid first? Toto? Christian? George? Other driver who snitches to one of them on on purpose or totally on accident?? THE POSSIBILITIES

Enemy Teritory Part Three

George Russell x Horner Reader,

Summary: and they all live mostly happily ever after

Warnings: Lestappen wedding?

Notes: The things I do for you people

Masterlist

Christian knew he fucked up the moment she left the paddock that day. He knew it as he hadn't heard from her for weeks. He had to beg Max for any kind of update. Ones which the Dutch were reluctant to give.

He really should've stood up to Toto for his daughter. Showed her more support than he did.

It's the middle of 2024 when Max pulls him into his office and tells him to sit down. It's not often Max takes a serious tone with him. He knows it's something serious, and he can't help but let his mind travel to the worst about his daughter.

"She wants to meet for dinner the next time we're in Austria."

"Dinner?"

"You know? The meal you est in the evening?" Max snorts.

"Don't get sarcastic with me."

Sure enough, the next time they're in Austria, she drives up with Max to the Horner household for dinner. Max gets out and around to the other side of the car. It looks like she's struggling to move around.

Christians mouth falls open as he sees her. Probably around seven months pregnant. Of all the things he was prepared for, it wasn't this.

Turns out George is the father, but she has yet to tell him. Max has been helping her out when her can. To which he was shocked Charles has also come and help occasionally. Turns out both of the young adults decided to just tell him everything.

His daughter is pregnant and Max is dating Charles.

She’s been staying with them in Monaco since things have gotten harder to do on her own. Christian can tell she’s still hurting after a year of not seeing George. Well- less then that, but she still look like she just left that office.

It is a very happy time when the baby is born. Nobody knows why Christian and Max fly out directly after the race ends in early September. None of the reporters catch Charles sneaking out the back with them.

Christian is a very happy man that day. Yet, even through the smiles of his daughter, he cant help but notice the hint of sadness.

~

“Charles!” Max screams to get the attention of his now fiancé. It’s been over a year since baby George was born. His mother had been struggling immensely since his birth and Max and Charles were doing their best to help her out. Plus he started calling them ‘uncle Maxie and uncle Charlie’ which doesn’t help their growing adoration and incessant need to spoil the child.

Charles spins on his heels and puts his hands on his hips. “No need to shout at me!”

“But I come bearing gossip!”

Charles takes quick strides in his direction and they meet in the middle of the paddock alley. They are certainly closer then they need to be, but they couldn’t care less.

“Are you going to spill or not?”

“George has a new girlfriend.” They both sigh heavily in exasperation. The Brit had been complaining about his new PR contract that Toto is making him do.

They two drivers had been making so much progress with getting the mother of his child to come back to the paddock. This is going to set them back years. Maybe forever, at this rate.

George still asks about her. All the time. It's becoming a problem in some ways.

"Now she'll never come back!" Whines the Monegasque. He's not wrong, though. It's going to be a pain to get her to come back if George looks like he's moved on.

"We could tell her it's for PR?"

"She'll think we're lying."

They need to come up with a plan and fast. Both males know, without a shadow of a doubt, that this will break her even more than she already is.

~

The end of the 2026 season brings new things for everyone. George is walking on air after winning the championship. He didn’t think attending the wedding of two of his friends would bring such a tragedy with it.

He’s asked Max and Charles about her every chance he got. Christian had even approached him and apologized. As soon as he could, now that his contract with Mercedes and the stupid PR girlfriend are done, he was going to find her. Get her back and love her like she deserves.

George had assumed she’d be at the wedding. Found it to be the perfect opportunity to see if he can’t explain things. Maybe try to reconcile and see if she still wants to attempt a relationship now that Toto can’t get in the way.

She looks beautiful. Dressed in something that gives her a glow, standing and talking to the the two newly weds. George can’t help but smile when he lays eyes on her for the first time in years.

Then people move, and he gets a clear view of a little boy clinging to her leg. He can’t be older then two and is the spitting image of himself when he was a child.

Shock and realization passed through him. George has saved the last texts they’d sent that day before the dooming call to Toto’s office. She’s wanted to tell him something important. She had seemed excited, elated even.

She’s deep in conversation, enough to where she doesn’t notice George staring at the child and him looking right back. the boys face bursts into a grin and he launches himself through the crowd.

All three adults freeze and turn to look at where he’s run off to. George makes eye contact with the female. It’s like slow motion. Like they are they only two people in the room. She quickly exchanges words with Max and Charles before they come over.

“You’re George Russell!” Says the little boy.

“Indeed I am!”

“We have the same name! My maman says I have the same name as my dad.” He likes very prideful. George can’t help but smile.

Max scoops the boy, who he now knows is also George, up into his arms. “You know better then to run away, Junior.”

“But uncle Maxie look! I found him!”

“I see that. What do you say we go find something to snack on?”

“Only if uncle Charlie didn’t make it”

Charles looks offended and fakes a pain in his chest. Then the trio walks off, leaving the boys mother behind.

George is at a loss for words. He doesn’t know what to say or how to say it. Thankfully she takes the lead. “He loves you. Your his favorite driver. Completely obsessed enough to wake up at ridiculous hours just to watch you race.” She doesn’t look him in the eyes. Like she can’t bring herself to do it.

“Is he- Is he mine?” She confirms with a nod of her head. George smiles and tears up more then he had at the reason why he is even here in the first place. “Can we go somewhere more private? I have something I want to tell you.”

They find a garden to explore as they talk. George tries to ease into it, see where she’s at before he tries to ask her out.

“How’s your girlfriend?” She looks hurt but is tryin to smile and be polite nonetheless.

“She was never my girlfriend. I had to do it for PR after everything that happened. People were speculating. We were both on the same terms; she had someone else but they didn’t want her around them. I told her I was still in love with you.”

He didn’t realize they had stopped walking until he turns and sees her staring at him. tears in her eyes and love plastered all over her face. “I never stopped loving you either.”

And George doesn’t hesitate to do the one thing he’s been wanting to for years now. He’s waited patiently and it payed off because now she’s here in front of him. He crashes his lips onto hers. Something about years of pent up emotions makes this kiss the best thing he has ever felt.

“I think Junior may have a heart attack when he realizes your his dad.”

“That will make two of us today then.”

~

Up on the balcony the trio of boys watch the gardens below. George and Their favorite female walk out into their line of sight.

“Look! Maman is with George Russell!”

Max and Charles laugh at his excitement. Their fingers crossed that she takes his explanation and believes it because even with years apart, it looks like they were never apart.

The two walk and talk for a bit while the trio eats snacks and hides from other guests.

It’s peaceful, until the little boy in Charles’ lap screams.

“George Russell is kissing my Mummy! That’s my job!” He crosses his arms and turns away from the sight with a pout.

:oops like Georges new competition will be with George Jr. for his mothers attention.

#x reader #fanficion #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 #racing #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #george russell x you #george russell x y/n #george russell x reader #george russell imagine #george russell #mercedes formula one #mercedes amg petronas #mercedes #gr63 #gr63 x reader #gr63 imagine #max verstappen x charles leclerc #lestappen #charles leclerc f1 #max verstappen f1 #f1 x reader #christian horner #redbull racing #red bull f1 #mercedes f1 #george russell 63 #f1 fluff

[works-of-fanfiction]

“Give it a Year.” || George Russell x Reader

Summary: George wants to ask the reader an important question, but he has to wait for the right time.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: None.

a/n: hey loves! so it’s been a good year since I last wrote something, but reading everyone’s f1 posts has got me experiencing some serious fomo. I apologise if this isn’t my best work! I’m new to the f1 side of tumblr, but I hope you like this :)

“We’ve only been together a month…” I reminded George, the champagne clearly going to his head, making nonsense spill out of his mouth. He shuffled his feet further up the wall as he adjusted his position, the two of us hanging upside-down on the sofa and giggling maniacally as we polished off our second bottle of the evening. I couldn’t tell if the dizziness was the effect of the champagne or the blood rushing to my head, as I ran my fingers through my hair, shaking it out and sighing deeply.

“Yes, but we’ve known each other for eight.” He protested, nudging my right foot with his left, making me slip down the sofa slightly. I shrieked, quickly reaching down behind my head to catch myself. George snorted with laughter as he slid his hand underneath my head to catch me, giving me a little push so I could regain my balance. I swung my legs to the left, giving me enough momentum to flip my body upright and sit normally. I looked down at George’s red face and his eyes were closed as he drunkenly hummed a tune to himself. I crossed my legs, reaching over to the side table to sip the remnants of my drink from the bottom of the flute.

“George, sit up. The veins in your forehead look like they’re about to pop.” I grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him up, but the alcohol in my system as well as his made his body feel three times heavier. He swung his body back and forth a couple of times, hoisting himself onto the sofa cushion and messily turning around until he landed beside me, his head lazily resting on my shoulder.

“So what do you say? Summer wedding?” He suggested, planting a kiss between my neck and shoulder, his lips rubbing against my t-shirt. I pushed his head off of me, catching him by his chest and holding him in front of me. He blinked slowly, his mouth upturned in an almost perfectly crescent-shaped smile like a cartoon. “Be my wife.”

“You’re drunk, George.”

“So are you!”

“Not drunk enough to get engaged.” I stood up and shakily took both glasses to the sink, rinsing them quickly and leaving them in the bathroom. The hotel room was stuffy and hot, the humid air coming through the window doing us no favours. With no hesitation, I slipped my shorts off and stumbled back to the sofa in just my underwear and t-shirt, fanning myself with my hands. “I bet you use that line on all the girls.”

“Which girls?” George sat up, mouth agape, feigning shock. “Not everyone is special enough to warrant a proposal!”

“What? And I am?”

“Absolutely.” He lunged forward and grabbed my hand, pressing a wet kiss to my palm then the tip of my forefinger. I smiled, his lips tickling my skin and the alcohol only making me more sensitive to his touch. “I’ll get you to say ‘yes’ one day.”

“Give it a year.”

“A year! That’s too long.”

“You are so impatient! Deep down, the George Russell I know would be disappointed if I said yes too easily. We both know you’d want to plan it out properly.” I pinched his cheek and he drew back, looking down and laughing.

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re totally right.” He admitted, his hands finding my knees to trace patterns on them. I flinched at first but settled into it, letting silence wash over our intoxicated selves.

“Shall we go to bed?” I asked quietly. George nodded and pressed his nose against my arm like a sleepy pet cat. “Let’s try and get some sleep. I’ll put the fan on.”

“Should I wear the white or the black?” I pondered, asking George for the second time as I stood in front of the mirror and switched between the two shirts on their hangers. “The black makes me look slimmer, but the white is better for this weather.”

George scoffed, and I caught a glimpse of him in the mirror behind me, shaking his head. “What’s so funny?” I asked, turning around and dropping both shirts down to my sides. “This is the penultimate race of the season! This is an important choice.”

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound? ‘The black makes me look slimmer.’” He mocked, adopting a higher voice which sounded nothing like me. “You know you look great in either, but white would be the better choice.”

“White it is.” I smiled, tucking the black one back into the closet and slipping the white shirt over my head. I looked back in the mirror and smoothed it out, tucking one side into my jeans to give it a little more shape. George appeared behind me, hands on my hips and chin resting on my head.

“You wear the Mercedes shirt better than me.” He kissed my hair as he gave my hips a gentle squeeze. “I have a good feeling about today.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he buried his face into the back of my hair, pulling me closer so my back was flush against his chest. Watching him in the mirror made me feel somewhat shy, so I closed my eyes and leaned against him, enjoying the last few minutes before we had to leave.

I tapped his hand twice, prompting him to stand back and let go. “We need to get going.” I said, throwing my bag over my shoulder before passing George his backpack. I quickly scanned the room to ensure we hadn’t forgotten anything, then followed him out of the door.

The routine was the same as always. We arrived at the track a good few hours before the race and George disappeared as usual. I mingled a little and spoke to those I recognised, before finding a table in hospitality and settling in. More friendly faces came and went as the time passed, and I was just happy to be out of the humidity and under some air-conditioning. I’ve always enjoyed our race day routine. I join George as much as I can and try to catch as many of his races as possible, and I’m just happy to be present and supporting him. It doesn’t matter to me how long everything takes. I like looking around each circuit and taking in the different layouts, watching the teams do press and catching up with everyone. I still feel like an excited kid with a VIP pass every time I walk through the gates.

Time seemed to fly, and before I knew it, I was stood by George wishing him luck for the last time before the race. “Starting in pole, I’m so proud of you.” I beamed, stretching up to press a kiss to his cheek. His lips were pressed into a tight smile, his eyes still flicking around nervously at everyone; the other drivers, mechanics, reporters. His suit hung on his hips as he clung onto his drink, fighting the urge to chew on the straw. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not.” He snapped out of his little trance, his eyes finally meeting mine. I smiled, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’m good. I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’ll be here when you cross the finish line.”

“I know.” Someone drifted past him and took his drink away, swapping it out for his helmet. He tucked it under his arm and ducked down to kiss me, lightly pecking my lips followed by the corner of my mouth as he always does. “I love you. Thank you for being here.”

“Ditto. Now go.” I patted his chest and he flashed me one more smile before merging into the crowd. I went and found my seat and snapped a few pictures to commemorate the day. The wait for the race to start always feels like the longest minutes of my life. I think it’s probably down to a mixture of nerves and excitement. I love to see George race and do what he loves, but I can’t help being a little nervous for him every time. You couldn’t pay me enough money to get in one of those cars!

I still remember the first race I ever attended by George’s side. I pretty much latched onto him at the start of the day and didn’t let go until he was being pulled away to get into his car. I felt so out of place and didn’t know how to behave around everyone. He introduced me to so many people and all I could do was smile and nod at everything they were saying as if I understood every word. I was far too nervous to speak more than a couple sentences at a time, and I was dreading the moment I had to see him shoot off at such a dangerous speed. It’s a weird feeling seeing the one you love squeezing into that driver’s seat. Your heart swells with pride whilst your head spins at all the possibilities of what could happen on the track. I remember waving at him like a parent seeing off their child, scared to take my eyes off of him for one second. His family had joined us later that day and tried to whisk me away and calm me down. I had updates coming through my phone in case I missed any announcements on the track itself, and any whispers amongst the crowd pricked at my ears if I heard so much as the number 63 mentioned. I’ve gotten more used to it now and witnessed my fair share of hiccups and accidents in the races, but they don’t come without their tears and me eventually scolding George for making me worry.

The cars found their starting positions soon after the formation lap. I quickly slid my arms into the jacket George had given me, the sleeves stretching way past my hands so I rolled them up the best I could, making sure not to take my eyes off the track. Seconds later, the lights went out and all twenty drivers disappeared from view, the rumbling engines and screeching tyres growing further away. My eyes stayed fixed on the track, waiting for George’s car to pass by. The first lap always feels the longest, and I won’t lie and say I don’t sit with my fingers crossed waiting for those few seconds when he flies past me and into the distance once again.

By the last few laps, I was on the edge of my seat and praying for George to keep his position at the front. When the chequered flag waved above his car, I sprung out of my seat and squealed, hands coming from every direction to pat me on the shoulders and celebrate with me. I dashed out of my seat, squeezing past everyone on my row and practically diving down the stairs. The entire Mercedes team bolted out of the garage, hugging each other and jumping up and down excitedly at their 1-2 finish.

As soon as George emerged from his car, he threw his hands up in the air, evoking more screams and applause from the crowd. My hands started to feel sore from the constant clapping, but all I could focus on was George and the team relishing in their moment. It felt like forever until he finally reached where I was standing, hugging and shaking hands with several mechanics. He took his helmet off and passed it to the first pair of hands he could find, tugging his balaclava off and shaking his hair out. He scanned the crowd and found me standing at the back, waiting for him to come over. Smiling from ear-to-ear, he weaved through the mass of people and reached out to grab me. I leapt into his arms and he spun me around three times before putting me down and holding my face in his hands. “We did it, Y/N. We did it.” He spoke quietly so only I could hear, his thumbs lightly squeezing my cheeks as he pulled me in for a kiss. His face was sweaty but I didn’t care. I could hardly kiss him properly as I couldn’t alter the grin on my face.

“No, baby. You did it.” I buried my face in his chest and his arms naturally found their way around my neck, holding me close. I could hear his heart pounding in his chest, his body shaking with excitement. “I’m so proud of you.”

He shifted and held me in front of him, squatting to be at eye-level with me. “I’m a race winner… I’m a race winner!” He raised his voice as the reality sunk in. A sea of reporters appeared holding their cameras and microphones, eager to hear from the winner. He gave me a look as if to ask my permission and I nodded enthusiastically.

“This is your moment! Go!” I grabbed his shoulders and flipped him around, nudging him back into the crowd.

Seeing him on the podium was one of the most incredible moments of my life. Lewis and Carlos aimed their champagne at him, soaking him from head to toe. I took probably a hundred photos on my phone, zooming in on his screwed-up face as champagne dripped from his nose and hair. It took nearly an hour for him to finish up in the media pen and taking photos with the team. As soon as he found me again, he pulled me into his driver’s room and sat me down on the sofa. “George, what’s going on? Sit down!” I laughed as he paced the room, unable to calm himself or come to a stop.

“I can’t – not yet. Uh…” He sounded nervous, his fingers digging into his own hips as he dragged his feet along the carpet to his bag in the corner. I tried to see what he was doing but he blocked my view, rummaging around until he sprung back up, back straight and hands behind him.

“George, you’re being weird.”

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be… Gosh, why am I so nervous?”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, about to stand.

“No, no! You stay sat down. I promise I’m OK.”

“OK…” I furrowed my brows, watching him as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He muttered something to himself that I didn’t quite catch, then dropped down to one knee in front of me. I gasped, my back hitting the sofa as he brought his hands around with a small box clutched in his right.

“I’ve been trying to think of the perfect moment to do this for a long time. Since I drunkenly asked you in that hotel room many months ago, it’s been on my mind constantly.” He started, wobbling a little on his knee before finding his balance. “I was going to do it outside earlier but I didn’t want the moment to be lost amongst everything else. I wanted this to just be for us.”

“George…”

“You said to ‘give it a year’. I know it hasn’t quite been that long yet, but I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. I hope you can forgive me.” I playfully slapped his shoulder, making him laugh and inch closer to me. He opened the box and moved it towards me, allowing me to inspect the beautiful diamond inside. My eyes pricked with tears, my cheeks beginning to feel warm and my palms clammy. “Only one thing could make me happier than winning my first race. I love you, Y/N. What do you say to becoming my wife?”

I tried to blink back my tears but it didn’t work. Frantically nodding and with tears streaming down my face, I reached forward and tackled him to the ground, repeating my answer over and over - yes. He grabbed my left arm and brought it over to his so he could slide the ring onto my finger. I sat back and gazed down at my hand in disbelief, the silver band catching the light as I slowly moved my wrist. “It’s beautiful, George. I love it.” I looked back at him and his watery eyes and he scooped me up into another hug, pulling me into his lap and holding me on the floor.

“This is the best day of my life.” He whispered in my ear.

We sat in silence, cherishing the moment and the calm together. We may not have been together a year yet, but I knew what my answer was going to be when he asked me all those months ago. The only reason I didn’t say yes back then was because I wanted to spend a little more time dating George and getting to know him. Little did I know, I can still do that as his wife. And I can’t wait…

#f1 fics #george russell x reader #gr63 x reader #f1 oneshot #f1 x reader

[lnlightning81]

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[f1letters]

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! 💌

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 imagine #f1 one shot #george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell #gr63 #f1letters #f1 x reader #f1 x taylor swift #f1 x midnights #Spotify #george russell one shot #george russell angst #gr63 x reader #george russell fic #f1 fic #formula 1 one shot

[cheriladycl01]

I cant do this anymore - George Russell x Wolff! Reader Part 5

Plot: You are the daughter of Toto Wolff team principle of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, you've worked your whole life to become an engineer. However, your dad has other ideas for you and doesn't want you to become a race engineer. You start to confide more in the Red Bull Racing Team Principle to help you get an engineering job, and see him as your present father figure.

Credit to russellius for the GIF

There was a pretty decent break between Brazil and Las Vegas, you spend the first week with Geri and Christian and their kids. You'd had a blast riding their horses, going for bike rides and lots of baking.

They of course let you stay with them in the spare bedroom, you went on a massive shopping spree with Geri getting some new clothes as you hadn't gone home and talked about everything you normally would with Suzie. You couldn't lie, you really missed her, especially the hugs she gave you.

However on the weekend before Vegas, Lewis had texted you seeing if you'd wanted to stay with him in Las Vegas for a bit. Lewis had known you since 2009, you were 9 years old. You always came to as many race weekends as you could, obsessed with F1 as much as your dad. You loved the fast cars and the smell of the fuel.

Here was were you were introduced to Suzie, it was perfect time really. You were a 9 year old girl, about to enter here teen years without a mother figure. And Suzie and you, got on like two peas in a pod.

In 2012 when he became the executive director in Williams you travelled with him. Your mum didn't want anything to do with you, so that left you to be home school. It wasn't easy in Williams, they were tight on money and resources despite Toto's financial contributions to the team and no-body had time for you it seemed.

The next year when your dad moved to Mercedes, that had a slightly bigger budget and more time around the paddock was when it became easier.

The engineers helped you with your math's and science while marketing and legal would help you with your English. That's where your love of engineering came from.

Lewis would often stay with you, he and Nico were like brothers and they couldn't help but see you like a little sister with the relentless teasing they put you through.

As you got older, Toto paid for you to have an online tutor so you could sit your GCSE's at some point. 2016 was probably the worst year you had on record apart from everything that's happened in 2023.

You could tell that when they started to compete for the championship in 2014 that things were getting tense between them, they tried to keep it to themselves but you could tell with the post race interviews and how they didn't want to hang out as much together with you.

But in 2016, when Nico won and their friendship had pretty much crumbled as far as it could you, you were also sitting those GCSE's and it was a really tough year for you. Lewis and Nico now spoke to you separately, their sides of the garage never crossing over like they used to.

So you not only had the stress of your GCSE's, the stress of your two role models no longer talking and with that your own childhood best friend cutting you off because of how much you travelled and your commitments not being strong enough. And to top it of Nico was confirmed to be leaving the sport which would mean you wouldn't see him as often.

However, despite everything that went on you came out with some really good grades, thanks to Lewis and his help when it come to studying.

You actually met George the year after when he became a junior driver for Mercedes. You had just turned 17 and he was 20 and part way working his way up through the feeder series into Formula One.

You actually had a crush on George all the way back then, Lewis convinced you it was just a silly little school girl crush you'd soon get over and motorsport men were a walking red flag. Which you found out was true with your first heartbreak when you dated an F2 driver that was the same age as you. You dad of course was hesitant at first, and he was right to be. He cheated on you with one of the insta models 7 months into your relationship.

Lewis did a lot for you and you guys were close, so you almost felt like you couldn't say no even though you didn't want to anyway.

You got the first flight you could out to his LA mansion.

"Hello" he greeted you as you'd found him in the airport with his security. There was of course Paps so it was only a short amount of time before people knew you were here with Lewis.

He drove the pair of you back to his LA home, you guys spent the rest of the week surfing, go-karting and walking Roscoe. Everyone knew you were here by now so you posted a photo dump on the Wednesday to Instagram, photos of everything you guys had been up to.

Everyone in the comments was so excited that big brother Lewis was back.

"So, I think now that we've had some time to chill out we should talk about the serious matters on the table" Lewis says as he spoons some of the vegan dish his private chef had made you guys.

"Mmmm?" you hum as you gobble more of the delightful food down.

"I miss you in the Mercedes Garage and the red bull top doesn't suit you" he says making your head whip to the side.

"Excuse me!" you nearly choke on your food.

"Look, I know what Toto and George did was foul... and others have made it into this whole dramatic show, but I miss teasing you in the garage and I miss you telling the engineers something was wrong and trying not to laugh! I miss you! Everyone does, George, Toto, Suz, all the hospitality and mechanics and the engineers!" he offers looking at you.

"I'm not coming back to Mercedes Lew, I've found my place in Red Bull, they've even let me help on the 2024 car! My dad turned me down straight away when i asked, they trust me there and they like my ideas! I'll talk to both of them okay, I promise but Red Bull stuck their neck out for me hiring me... so I owe them!" you admit, knowing Red Bull helped you a lot, as much as you'd helped them.

"I know I know, but just talk to them soon. They are both suffering and they regret what they did!"

You drove in Lewis car all the way to Nevada. It was only a 4 hour drive where you guys did make stops along the way. You guy's parted ways as you got there. He needed to be present for media duties and you had to be with Red Bull making sure the car was up to standard.

You checked in with everyone you hadn't seen for the two week gap, checking in with the mechanics making sure they though the car was looking okay after the race.

And before you knew it Max was coming out of FP1 in 4th, FP2 in 6th and FP3 in 4th. It was a new track and everyone was getting used to the it and how the car performed on it. In Practices it was more for the driver to get the feel for the car.

Max qualified P3, but because Carlos had to take a 10 place grid penalty he was moved up to P2. He was on the front line next to Charles Leclerc and if he got a good start he could finish again P1.

Vegas was a stressful race for everyone. Charles and his Ferrari was made for the layout of this street circuit it seemed. Lando had a really bad crash which had everyone worried.

Ferrari, once again fucked up their strategy as you called Max to box when the safety car was released. Charles had only pitted a few laps prior. Now Max and Sergio were on the fresher tires.

"Warm those tires up Max then when DRS is available go for that overtake on Turn 3 for P1" you advise as he rolls out of the pits behind the safety car that Charles was already following.

Eventually you had both Red Bulls in the front ready for a 1-2 podium. But on the final lap Charles went for the overtake on Sergio and broke the Red Bulls up, there was no way he'd catch up with Max but you told him to hold his position.

Again Max Verstappen had one his 18th race of the season and you'd been his race engineer for a whole new track. He'd pulled you into a massive hug, along with Christian who was impressed with how quickly you were adapting to the new role.

"Amazing driver guys! Straight to Abu Dhabi now!" Christian grins, nothing could now ruin his mood. Max had been confirmed Champion of the World a few races back but Red Bull still wanted to prove they were winners.

And that you did, you went to Abu Dhabi and one again by a landslide. You all celebrated the end of the season and Max asked you to come up on the podium with him again. However, George had come P3. so you were up on the Podium with him and Charles too.

The champagne was brought out and all the guys showered each other before coming over to you. They soaked you with the rest of the champagne the dark team gear sticking to your skin.

"Omg" you squeal as someone pulls back your top and dumps some of their champagne down your back. You swivel round to see George. Everything is so loud around you right now. Charles and Max are off celebrating the podium together a little further away from the pair of you now.

"George" you say looking up at him and he sheepishly takes a step back.

"George, no! I'm sorry I didn't speak to you sooner" you say looking at him, only for his head to cock to the side where he couldn't here you.

"What?" he shouts coming closer.

You lean in right up to his ear so that he can actually here you.

"I'm sorry I ignored you for so long. I was being childish. Lewis... Lewis talked some sense into me." you say.

"You-" he starts confused. He was the one that owed you an apology not the other way around.

"Y/N listen to me. Meet me tonight and we will talk about everything I promise!" he shouts making you able to hear him over the crowd.

"Okay!" you nod, before turning around and the Red Bull team all cheer as you hold up the trophy.

"Oh and George, Congrats of P3!" you grin, before joining Max and Charles.

Maybe it was time for you to talk it out. Maybe even to reach out to your dad! Lewis was as always right!

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #george russel imagine #george russel x reader #george russell x reader #george russell #george russell imagine #gr63 #gr63 x reader #gr63 imagine #lewis hamilton imagine #toto wolff #max verstappen imagine

[fxrmuladaydreams]

Hello! For George week could you maybe do either one of these prompts?

“But I wanted to do that with you! You could have asked me!"

Or

"For the last time, I'm not jealous! But I want to be the only one who looks into your eyes and holds your hand and hears your laugh. Is that too much to ask for?"

Clearly I live for the angst lol. Love your writing btw you’re like my favorite writer on here! 🫶🏼💕

!! requests for george weekend are closed !!

i’m so sorry this took so long, i hope you like it 🤍🤍🤍 (i went with the first one)

You knew it would be hectic dating a Formula One driver, chaotic even, but you were happy to travel the world with George. He’d begged you to come with him to his races, promising that you’d be treated like a queen, that he’d make sure you were completely taken care of while you were with him. And you were, the Mercedes team welcomed you with open arms, quickly growing used to you being in the garage during race weekends.

You loved being with George like this, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Well, not at first. Race weekends had started to become quite lonely. You woke up in an empty bed most mornings, George already gone to the track. Once at the track you either spent time alone in his driver’s room, or a corner of his garage while he was being constantly whisked away.

You knew it wasn’t George’s fault, not at all, he was living his dream, and you knew he would love to be able to spend more time with you.

You tried to make the best of it, taking time to see the sights in the countries you traveled to. You visited museums, went to restaurants, shopped, all things that made traveling a little easier.

You never complained to George about being alone, not wanting him to feel bad, but it was all ruined when he saw a few photos of you on Instagram.

They were photos of you and Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, who you’d become quite close with over the season. You went to a beach together while in Miami, the Florida heat exhausting you, even if you were just sitting in the garage.

George was disappointed. Sure, he was constantly busy, but he wanted to be the one that got to go out and spend time with you while you traveled together.

He softly asked about it over dinner one night. A few plates of food sat between you on the table in your hotel room. You had both opted for a night in together instead of going out.

You could tell George was upset when he brought it up, his head was ducked down and he kept picking at his food with his fork.

You frown. “I’m sorry…”

He looks dejected. “But I wanted to do that with you! You could have asked me!”

You shake your head. “I couldn’t have asked you George, you’re never free.”

He scoffs. “I’m sorry I’m a little busy with my job.”

His words sting. You know he doesn’t mean to imply that you not working is a hindrance to him, but in the moment that’s exactly how it sounds.

“I think I should go back home.” You say softly, hoping to keep the tears from falling from your eyes.

“What? Why?” George sputters.

“I never see you anymore. And I think we both need time away from each other.” You tell him, looking down at your food.

“Fine.” He says after a few moments of silence.

You go to sleep with your backs facing each other that night. You hope that George can’t hear your sniffling, and George wants nothing more than to turn around and wrap his arms around you, but neither of you moves until early the next morning as George gets ready to head to the track and you pack your things to head to the airport, a thick tension surrounding you both.

#george russell x reader #gr63 x reader #formula one x reader #george weekend

[minkyungseokie]

George Russell; GR63

Autosports Masterlist | Main Masterlist

⎆Written

There's nothing yet...

⎆Blurbs

There's nothing yet...

⎆Smau

There's nothing yet...

⎆Series

There's nothing yet...

⎆Moodboards

There's nothing yet...

George + Carmen

⎆Written

There's nothing yet...

⎆Blurbs

There's nothing yet...

⎆Smau

There's nothing yet...

⎆Series

There's nothing yet...

⎆Moodboards

There's nothing yet...

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 instagram au #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 smau #f1 social media au #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula one fanfic #formula one fic #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 smut #gr63 x reader #george russel imagine #george russell x reader #george russel x reader #george russell smut #george russell smau

[nonstoplover]

a roadtrip with bubbling feelings ~ george russell (gr63)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: george russell x best friend!reader

words: 4K

summary: just two best friends on a roadtrip, with unknown feelings bubbling under the surface. will they arise?

warnings: nothing but a fluffy drabble, somewhat slowburn but since it's just a 4K fic it's nothing too much

a/n: i've been listening to this playlist on spotify called "roadtripping with george russell" (by @ lynndehaas) because i was in my gr63 feels and why not, and tbh with each passing song i just got more and more inspired to write something. it took me like a month to finish it as my exchange semester has started and adjusting to life in a new country is a lot, but here we go. hopefully it's not too rushed. also, my first ever gr63 x reader! since i was a george girlie when i first joined the f1 fandom, it was inevitable that i will write something for him. it was just a matter of time.

reader, please don't be a ghost, all feedback is well appreaciated, rb or comment!

taglist: formulapierre

"Why am I not surprised that even when we're going on vacation you decide you want to keep doing your job?"

George glances at her for a second with an eyebrow raised, clearly not getting what she means exactly. She giggles, watching his profile as he turns his head back to watch the road ahead of them. "What do you mean?" he asks when she still doesn't elaborate.

"That you're driving," (y/n) shakes her head, concentrating on opening the package of candy in her hands, the tip of her tongue peeking out from between her lips. "Your job is to drive a car, and when you go on holiday you still want to keep doing it."

"You've been saying that you want to go on a roadtrip with me for ages!" George replies defensively, voice getting a bit higher in the process – also a bit louder as the sound of the bag getting ripped open in her hands fills the air of the car.

"Yes, but this time you suggested it."

Her shoulders move in a shrug before she holds the now open package closer to his face, making sure it unmistakably enters his field of vision. He raises a hand and digs in to grab a handful of the sweets. "This is what you get for trying to be nice for once," he murmurs under his breath.

For a couple seconds they enjoy the sudden sugary taste fill their mouths in silence before he speaks up again. "Anyway, this is totally different than driving a race car."

"I know, but it's still driving." Her tone is as if she's stating something obvious, as if she's saying I don't make the rules.

George groans in exasperation, momentarily throwing a hand in the air at her inconvincible mind.

"But you know what? You can separate the two types of driving perfectly, I give you that," she taps the pad of her pointer finger against her jawline in mock thinking.

"Thank you," he shakes his head at her antics.

Before she can say anything else – and possibly continue on with her teasing –, he reaches out and turns the volume louder. Taylor Swift's voice fills the space but he can still hear the sudden laughter that bubbles out of (y/n), and as his heart skips a beat, he spares a glance at the girl.

Her head is thrown back against the headrest and her left hand just raises in the air, only to land on her thigh just a moment later as she keeps laughing. It's the cutest sight he's ever seen.

"You tryna drown me out?" she asks when her laughter died down into a much less audible giggle. "What, am I bothering you?

"Oh, no, you'd never," he replies with pure sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Good, 'cause I just wanted to apply at Mercedes to be your race engineer."

The look he gives her brings out that pervading laugh again, especially the speed in which his head moves towards her. "Careful, you don't want to snap your neck," she warns him lightly, her own words only fuelling her laughter.

"You're joking, right?" George asks.

"Why, can't focus on driving if I'm talking?"

"Yeah." It's true, just not for the reason you think it is, he thinks.

"What a shame, I think we'd make a great pair," the girl says dreamily, looking out the window at the scenery sweeping by, her lips still curved into a joyous smile.

Does she purposely keep on saying stuff like this?

George has to concentrate on Taylor Swift's words coming from the speakers especially hard to stop the thoughts coming to his head, as made-up pictures of a very different meaning to a great pair are filling up his mind.

"Boys only want love if it's torture..." (y/n) first mumbles along with the song, then when the line is repeated for the second time, she sings it at the top of her lungs.

Well, this definitely feels like torture to be fair, Georgemakes a mental note.Still, he can't stop himself from joining in to the last chorus, belting out the words he knows so well. Being best friends with (y/n) for such a long time just had this effect on him. Her approving eyes land on his profile again, and when he feels her gaze on him and turns his own towards her, she has to look away, desperately trying to hide the blush that has formed on her face.

At least two packages of candy and multiple songs later – all of which they sang together – they decide it's time to grab lunch, not even the considerable amount of candy they ate could make their hunger disappear, both of them being well known for having great appetite.

Rolling closer to the fast food restaurant they picked, George suggests they get their meals at the drive-through, not being in the mood to be amongst other people. This holiday was meant to be him and (y/n), and the two of them only. They rarely have time to be alone like they used to, and he misses those times dearly.

Of course this leads to another string of teasing from the girl's side, but as she snickers away at her newest comment on how he seemingly can't leave his precious car and has grown roots in it, he sends a (playful but still stern enough) glare her way that makes her bite on the inside of her cheek and shut up.

Momentarily.

But lucky for him she stops her teasing even when she starts speaking again, instead switching to another topic – though not so different as she asks him about Formula One. "Do you know anything new about Daniel yet?"

George sighs, getting reminded of the uncertain fate of his fellow driver and friend. "No, nothing. Haven't really had the chance to talk more with him lately."

Taking a small piece of her french fries in her mouth (y/n) stares out of the car deep in thought, worry creasing on her forehead. She's been fond of the older guy since the first day they met, George introducing the two the day he first took her to one of his F1 races. Daniel's truly dazzling smile that showcases possibly all his pearly white teeth and his bubbly personality with jokes cracked all the time never failed to make all her troubles disappear immediately. He's become the brother she never had and it broke her heart to see him without a seat for the next season.

Munching on the delicious food she shakes her head, trying to let go of these thoughts. Now is not the time to dwell on them. She's here to spend time with her best friend, and her thinking about Daniel's future won't solve the man's problem anyway, so she forces herself to be a hundred percent present, right in the moment with George.

"Well, spill the tea if there's anything going on now. You know I live for the good old F1 drama," she nuzzles his arm that's resting on his lap with her elbow.

George lets out a chuckle, eagerly jumping into the new topic offered by her, not wanting the thought of his friend's sad story to ruin his mood for the rest of the day.

Ever since they first made friends, she's been the first (and to be honest only) person he'd tell all the juicy stories to, the one who always filled him in with the newest rumours going around the fandom, the one with whom he discussed everything about his competitors. It soon became tradition, and now there was nothing that could change it – but it's not like either of them would ever really want to.

This time isn't different, and he fills her in with every new information he has, the conversation continuing for a long time, even when they've long left the parking lot behind, their stomachs now full and moods completely back to the usual joyfulness.

"I like this playlist," George hums along to the song that's playing, leaning back against the seat and getting comfortable.

They've just stopped to change seats, her finally being able to convince him to let her drive for a while. (That's basically the point of roadtripping, switching who's the driver, she argued.) His fingers mindlessly scroll on the phone connected to the speakers – hers –, trying to find the song he loved the most by far, only by its title. It's been playing a couple songs earlier and he still has the melody along with a few words in his head – and it's safe to say he loves a challenge. There's no way he will use Google or the knowledge of his best friend to find the song.

"I know, I created it," comes her reply, cheeky but true. Her music taste, while being a bit all over the place, has always been immaculate. She's introduced him to many songs that later became his favourites.

All of a sudden he triumphantly cries out having found the song, and immediately taps his finger against the title so it starts playing again. (y/n) lets out a reprehensive hey as the song she's been singing along to stops out of nowhere and different sounds fill the car, but George only shrugs, feeling pride curve his lips into a smile as that song starts playing.

He found it by the title only, without any help.

"Remember that video with the music challenge or whatever that was?" he asks her just as suddenly as the previous song change was, his upper body turning a bit in his seat to be able to look at her more properly.

He couldn't help it, the way he found the song made him think about that one time.

She ponders for a second before her eyes light up with recollection. "Back in your rookie year with Alex and Lando?"

"Yep, that's the one."

"Of course, how could I forget? The absolute shock on both their faces by how many songs you recognised is something I will always remember." She has to giggle to herself just thinking about it.

"I think I only didn't get two. Maybe three," George tries to remember back, his eyes looking at the view ahead but not seeing it – he's too focused on that far-away memory, replaying those scenes in his mind.

"Three. Lando was the first to recognise two and Alex only one, all the others were you."

"Yeah," he chuckles at the memory. "All that is thanks to you, by the way."

(y/n) grins, not taking her eyes off the back of the car going just in front of them. "Really?"

"You and your excessive playlists."

And the fact that he often listens to them even when he's on his own, travelling around the world without her being able to follow him – just because he misses her. Listening to the songs she chose always helps with the pain missing her causes in him.

"Well, what can I say? They are perfect."

Her skin prickles as she feels his eyes move to her face, and for a second she dares to reciprocate the glance – immediately regretting her decision as she takes in his stunning smile he flashes her way. Swiftly turning her gaze back to the front she concentrates on driving again, noticing that in her looking, she's moved the steering wheel enough to make the car slowly going outside the lane.

She corrects with a quick wrist movement, resulting in a fit of loud laughter erupting from George's throat as he spots the correction.

"The playlists might be perfect, but your driving clearly isn't," he teases.

"Shut up, I'm a pretty great driver, and you know that," (y/n) retorts instantly, without missing a beat. "You just distracted me."

"I'm distracting for you?"

He's smirking, she doesn't have to look to know that. She can hear it in the tone of his voice.

"Let me remind you that only a couple hours ago you were the one finding me distracting," she blesses her quick thinking for coming up with this response, because otherwise the chance of him noticing the furious blush on her cheeks would've been too high for her liking.

"Okay, true," George admits. Propping his elbow up by the window he leans his head in his palm in search of support, watching her shamelessly, admiring her.

"Everybody wanna steal my girl, everybody wanna take her heart away..." the girl sings along happily to the One Direction song. "Couple billion in the whole wide world, find another one 'cause she belongs to me."

"Actually I do think that you are quite a decent driver," he speaks up just to make himself stop thinking about how those lyrics are pretty relatable as well. What's up with almost all the songs they've listened to today?

He definitely feels like everybody wants to steal his girl – except she's not that. He simply wishes that she belonged to him.

"Decent?!"

He has to laugh at the incredulous voice leaving her. He knew it was coming.

"I expected at least a highly gifted," she continues in disbelief as his loud sounds of joy enter her ears above the five boys singing through the speakers.

"Highly gifted," he just has to repeat her words, laughing so hard at this point that he has to bend over, clutching at his sides to ease the pain starting there.

"Stop laughing and appreciate my driving," (y/n) scolds him with a frown on her forehead – but with a giggle almost escaping her lips and breaking the facade.

"Sorry," George tries, but he's hardly capable of doing as she's told. Short bursts of chuckles leave him, quieter and less crazy than his previous laughter, but still obviously there.

The girl waits patiently – sooner or later he has to stop. She can wait.

Only a couple minutes later he's finally able to speak up again. "You're an awesome driver, (y/n/n)." She's just about to answer with a half-ironic thank you, her lips already opening when he continues. "To be honest, you might be better in road driving than me."

She stays like that, with her mouth hanging slightly open and her eyes widening. His tone sounded entirely genuine, with all joking pushed to the side. And she didn't expect such a compliment.

"Thank you," she manages in the end, cheeks now clearly burning bright red.

George smiles, his glance moving back to its previous position, staring at her profile.

"It means a lot coming from you," his best friend talks again, stopping for a short second before adding, "Mr Professional Driver."

He rolls his eyes playfully at her words, knowing her techniques all too well. She always uses jokes and lighthearted comments when she feels flustered and somewhat self-conscious. He can read her like an open book, having been studying her for so long – and basically pining after her.

"I mean, it'd be only fair. You're better at driving on race tracks at like 300 kph, and I'm better at driving on regular roads with regular speed. We both get something," she goes on with her unique explanation, performing a shrug at the end of sentence and fighting the urge to shoot him a look – she doesn't want a repetition of the previous instance. She knows she would never hear the end of it.

And he would take his compliment back – with actually good reason to do so. Not a chance she'd risk that.

George hums in response, agreeing with her words, though he has to admit that he's not fully paying attention anymore. It's just the usual, he always reaches this point when they spend time together. She really is too distracting for him.

(y/n) brings him back to the present when she wiggles a hand in front of him, trying to gain his attention. "Can you give me some candies? I'm dying for the sweetness," she says all bubbly with happiness, somewhere between being serious and sarcastic.

He reaches into the tote bag resting next to his feet to pull out a new package, groaning when his eyes land on his favourite type of candy.

"What?"

"I can't eat more. Aleix would kill me," George whines. "But these are my favourites."

"Well, shame on you," the girl moves her fingers once more, growing impatient. "I'll eat anyway."

With a sigh, he opens the packet and holds it out for her so she can help herself to some. A wide grin appears on her face as she places the first piece on her tongue. "Oh wow, this is good," she comments, enjoying the pleasure twice as much as she'd normally do just because she knows that it's the perfect teasing for the boy.

"Shut up."

She can't help but let out a sigh of delight – almost moan-like, which makes it very hard for him to sit still for a short moment –, joyously humming along to the song playing in the background whilst chewing.

George is glaring daggers at her at this point, leaving her giggling as she sees him stare at her from the corner of her eye before stopping her sweet torture on him.

A couple hours later they come by a viewpoint and decide to stop, though neither of them moves to get out of the car. The air is getting quite chilly as the sun is starting to set, and the seats of his car are actually real comfortable. They lean back, enjoying the little piece of rest and stillness, with the music still gently playing in the background.

That's when 'I Was Made For Loving You'  starts playing and it becomes too much for George to bear. All these songs he can relate to – did she choose these on purpose? Was it just a coincidence? It doesn't matter anymore, because his heart is fluttering, and he's unable to tear his eyes off of her. All because of a song. He can't even find it himself to care anymore when she notices him staring and looks right back into his eyes.

"I was made for loving you, baby, you were made for loving me. And I can't get enough of you, baby, can you get enough of me?..." the singer's voice comes through the speakers.

"Stop looking at me like that," (y/n) speaks up, her eyes momentarily darting away from him in embarrassment. She can just feel the blush creeping up on her neck to her cheeks from his intense gaze. All of a sudden being enclosed with him in such a small space feels suffocating, almost too much for her to bear – she kind of wishes it would just stop.

"Like what?" George asks back, not stopping his gazing for even a short second. It would be impossible.

"Like you're doing right now."

The girl lets out a small giggle, and his heart by the feels of it does a somersault inside his chest.

"I can't help it." And he really can't, just as much as he can't help himself from keeping on speaking the words that lead him to confessing parts of his mind. "You're just too beautiful, it would be a shame to stop looking at you."

Her eyes slightly widen, though she tries to hide it, biting into the inside of her cheeks to somewhat control the crazy grin her lips are threatening to curve into. It's not like he's never complimented her before, it's just that with his intense gaze it feels totally different.

"I mean, you can continue looking at me if you want to, but at least stop doing it so... absorbedly," she mumbles eventually.

"I love you, (y/n/n)," he blurts out, completely out of nowhere.

Jesus Christ, George, why did you say that?!, he mentally scolds himself right away. Did it really just take one song for years and years of play pretend to crumble?

Her cautious glance moves back up on his face, trying to let the way her heart skipped a beat subside. They say these three words to each other all the time, but something in his tone, urgent and shaky made it seem different this time. Or maybe it's just that she's become far too hopeful yet again.

For a second George contemplates pretending he only meant it as a best friend as he's always done in the past years, but for some reason he just can't. He can't make himself say those words. Not anymore.

"I love you, more than a friend," he says instead, so quietly that the instrumental break of the song nearly drowns out his voice, those bright green eyes of his staring intently at his intertwined fingers laying on his lap.

A soft gasp leaves her lips, making him glance up at her, trying to read her expression. Did she gasp because she doesn't feel the same way and he's just ruined everything? Or did she gasp because she feels the same way? George can't help but be hopeful it's the latter.

"Is this a joke?" (y/n) asks back, quietly, similarly to him.

Please, let this be a joke. If it isn't, I'm going to combust and burn to ashes or melt away into a puddle right here and now, she thinks. She's been desperately wanting to hear these words come from his lips for so many years, since they were teenagers, and yet they never came. She's learnt to push her feelings aside, and suddenly she's not sure she would be able to function properly if he truly meant what he said. It's been too long playing pretend, she forgot how to act without that.

"No, it's not," comes George's reply, his voice now sounding more sure. Finally having those words out of his head, his chest brings him such a relief he hasn't experienced in a long, long time. "I've been in love with you since we were seventeen."

He figures if he's already confessed this much, it wouldn't do much more harm to admit a couple more information to her too.

(y/n) chuckles, half in disbelief and half in pure joy. "Well I guess I won then," she says, watching as his eyes turn confused.

"What do you mean?"

"That I have been in love with you since we were fifteen."

She giggles again, suddenly almost delirious with happiness. He's in love with her!

A noise similar to a choked chuckle bubbles from his throat, a different sparkle shining up in his gorgeous orbs. "You have?"

"Yeah."

They burst out laughing at the same time, taken aback by their own stupidity.

"How could we have been so oblivious then?" George asks when they quieten down again.

"I guess we're both pretty good actors," the girl shrugs, biting her bottom lip to try and stop the crazy grin from erupting on her face.

"Yeah, it seems like we are."

They sit there, half turned in their seats just gazing at each other, finally not having to bottle their feelings anymore and being able to stare with as much adoration as they'd want to.

"Will you kiss me, or should I just take the lead now?" (y/n) asks about a minute later, tone teasing and joyous.

George shakes his head in playful disbelief, mumbling something about her being insufferably impatient, but nevertheless he starts leaning in, not a single ounce of doubt in his movements. She moves involuntarily closer – she's been wondering how his lips on hers would feel like for too long to care now.

Right before their lips fully touch, just as she can feel the skin of his mouth softly brush against her, the breath escaping his nose moving atop her cheeks leaving goosebumps in their wake, he stops moving altogether. She opens her lips to protest – trying hard not to let the feeling of their now constant skin-to-skin contact divert her mind –, but before she can let any words out, he whispers into the quiet in-between them.

"God, I've been waiting for this for so long."

And then with one simple and fast movement, he's captured her lips with his own, mesmerized with the feeling, the scent, the taste he's been only dreaming of for what feels like forever.

Maybe being enclosed with George in such a small space isn't bad and suffocating at all.

.::the end::.

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