#George russell

[katiascraft]

﹙LH44﹚ ── ❝ but then you happened ❞

── .✦ winter break, 2025

f1gossipgirl just made a post

liked by user23 , user67 , user1 and 24,678 other users

f1gossipgirl: 📸 SPOTTED! Formula one driver Lewis Hamilton was seen out and about in New York City next to some friends and a mysterious girl. Sources told us they were kissing and showing a lot of pda! Unfortunately, the source couldn’t take any more pictures. What do we think about this? Seems lewis it’s ready for date life again!

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── .✦

summary - how you went from friend of a friend to lovers with the love of your life <3

warnings - age gap +10years. Reader’s on her twenties and lewis almost forty. Just use your imagination along the ride! also a bit suggesting but nothing explicit at all. I used many different girls from Pinterest.

blog masterlist

¡ tap to continue reading ू♡ ࿔ ۪

── .✦ silverstone, 2024

yourusername made a post

liked by yourbff, yourbrother, georgerussell and 1,432 other users

yourusername: so I’ve just learnt that my brother’s bestie regina. I mean, George. Drive cars in circles so I went to one of his races and this guy won the race and he was supercool. A lot of cars chasing each other with pretty handsome drivers and they have radios and I said don’t fuck it up loser to George! Insane! And I drank champagne and met a daddy called toto and his wife and I made a friend called Carmen. And now I know how cars go vroom vroom and yeah, better luck next time George! You can win! (I’m afraid you won’t anyway). So I learnt a lot this week. It was super productive I recommend! Also, anyone knows the @ of the guy that won??? It was George’s team mate (wich I didn’t know there were teams). But can’t remember his name so any help is welcomed! If you see this super kind and sweet guy, please talk to me I don’t bite ;)

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georgerussell: I feel insulted in SO MANY ways

⤷ yourbrother: maybe because you were ????

⤷ georgerussell: and you are not gonna defend your brother from another mother????

⤷ yourusername: i'm his sister

⤷ georgerussell: well, he didn’t choose you but he did indeed choose me so I'M SUPERIOR

⤷ yourusername: and then you want me not to HATE you

⤷ yourbrother: just fuck off both of you

⤷ yourusername: it’s MY comment section

⤷ georgerussell: it’s HER comment section

⤷ yourusername: stop copying me

⤷ georgerussell: you stop copying me

⤷ alexalbon: wasn’t I supposed to be the one fighting with you and not HER

⤷ yourusername: excuse me? Who tf are YOU?

⤷ alexalbon: you said my hair was disgusting

⤷ yourusername: OH YES!!! I like you. I recommend you to use elvive because you are worth it babe!

⤷ alexalbon: I don’t know if I should cry or feel loved

⤷ georgerussell: die

⤷ yourbrother: things are getting out of hand

landonorris: nice to meet you y/n, welcome to the madness!! He is @/lewishamilton . The best driver in the world at the moment!!

⤷ oscarpiastri: actually☝🏻🤓 that is max

⤷ maxverstappen: facts are not factering

⤷ yourusername: who are all of you???

⤷ oscarpiastri: im the one you called polite cat or cutie pie didn't hear you well

⤷ maxverstappen: i’m the one you said you didn’t like :)

⤷ landonorris: i'm the love of your life

⤷ yourusername: oooh you were the norizz kid!! Just to let you know I pucked 🩷

⤷ landonorris: I don’t like you.

⤷ yourusername: I thought you loved me?

totowolf: it was nice meeting you y/n! You’re welcomed anytime!

⤷ yourusername: if I could I would have stayed forever!

⤷ georgerussell: NO THANK YOU

francolapinto: you can look at his @ at the Mercedes page babe @/mercedesamgf1

⤷ yourusername: thanks all rizz kid <3

⤷ landonorris: now I hate you

── .✦

mercedesamgf1 made a post

liked by lewishamilton, yourusername , charlesleclerc and 1,432,567 other users

mercedesamgf1: THE GOAT IS BACK ! Congratulations @/lewishamilton !

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carmenmmundt: @/yourusername

francolapinto: @/yourusername

oscarpiastri: @/yourusername

⤷ yourusername: we’re gonna be besties I just know it <3

⤷ yourbrother: I told you he is too old

⤷ yourusername: I just wanna look at him leave me alone it’s my life

⤷ georgerussell: “look” more like “touch”

⤷ yourusername: then you ask yourself why I don’t like you

⤷ georgerussell: I actually don’t

⤷ carmenmmundt: he loves you

⤷ georgerussell: CARMEN UR SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY TEAM

yourusername: @/lewishamilton congrats champion! Was great meeting you <3 hope I can bump into you again and spill more beer in your shirt!

⤷ lewishamilton: @/yourusername it was nice to meet you! You’re welcome anytime!

⤷ yourusername: to the garage or your heart?

⤷ yourbrother: WHAT

francolapinto: a mi me gustan mayores, de esos que llaman señores 🎶 @/yourusername

⤷ yourusername: ok now you’re annoying.

user234: am i the only one aware they are all fighting here and lewis is reading everything ??????

── .✦ monza, 2024

f1gossipgirl made a post

f1gossipgirl: 📸 SPOTTED ! formula one driver Lewis Hamilton has arrived to Italy this morning along with model Cindy Kimberly! We don’t know yet if they are dating or why they came together.

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user888: I don’t like her.

user753: CINDY???? REALLY???

user638: he’s just a man

user873: how shitty comments for real 🙄

francolapinto: @/yourusername

⤷ yourusername: so depressed now 😭

⤷ francolapinto: you lost the battle

⤷ yourusername: I made him laugh so much I though bro fell in love 😭

⤷ yourbff: babe stop embarrassing yourself in front of the entire world please

⤷ user972: WHO IS THIS GIRL WHY SHE KNOWS FRANCO AND WHY SHE WANNA DATE LEWIS

⤷ user2: everybody wants to date lewis

⤷ user23: i think she’s a friend of George and Carmen

⤷ user89: yeah Carmen posted her, apparently they know each other for a long time now

user3: FRANCO JUST CONFIRMED THEY ARE IN FACT DATING

── .✦

@/lewishamilton started following you.

── .✦

yourusername made a post

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, magui_corceiro and 784 other users

yourusername: this weekend I came prepared but not as I should cos monza you were insane! Amazing weekend with amazing people creating a lot of memories <3 congrats @/charlesleclerc I cried my eyes out!

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alexandramsaintlux: you’re so cute!! Glad to meet you girl!

⤷ yourusername: omg queen I already LOVE YOU

georgerussell: can’t believe I’m on the dump 🥹

⤷ yourusername: I can delete you

⤷ georgerussell: I love you too

lewishamilton: 🖤🖤🖤

⤷ yourusername: omg the cute super kind and sweet guy just noticed me!! im dead my spirit it’s talking

⤷ lewishamilton: you’re the nice one

⤷ yourusername: 🥹

⤷ georgerussell: you’re stealing my man

⤷ yourusername: was he ever yours? Heard he had a chick

⤷ georgerussell: he didn’t. He had me until you appeared.

⤷ yourusername: you invited me and no one can resist my charm

⤷ georgerussell: lol chill ur not Franco

⤷ yourusername: i’m better 😍

⤷ francolapinto: no one can beat me sorry

⤷ lewishamilton: oh she did bro

⤷ yourusername: omg 🥰

⤷ yourbrother: this is disgusting

⤷ yourusername: be GONE

charlesleclerc: ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user75: fav part of this weekend is this comment section for sure

── .✦ Las Vegas, 2024

yourusername made a post

yourusername: las vegas baby you were A M A Z I N G! Brother won 1000 extra so i'm able to eat now for the rest of the month! I'm so happy :)

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francolapinto: I HAD A CONCUSSION

⤷ yourusername: I didn’t yay!

georgerussell: AND I WON

⤷ yourusername: no one cares! Max is champion!!! 🥳🥳

georgerussell: I WON I WON I WON I WON I BEAT LEWIS

⤷ yourusername: no one can beat him. It is a shitty car.

⤷ mercedesamgf1: 🤨

⤷ yourusername: I won’t apologize

⤷ georgerussell: I WON WITH THAT CAR

lewishamilton: we should hung out sometime! You look good in that motorbike

⤷ yourusername: whenever you want sir. I must confess i’m really good at riding 😛😉

⤷ yourbrother: oh lord burn my eyes please I beg you

oscarpiastri: charles and I need some extra money to eat too

⤷ yourusername: you’re millionaires

⤷ oscarpiastri: we want to be humble.

landonorris: WHY HE GOT A PIC AND I DIDNT I BOUGHT YOU CHIKEN NUGGETS AND BURRITOS

⤷ yourusername: bc he didn’t think he had a chance with me

⤷ landonorris: EVIL

⤷ yourusername: you love me

⤷ landonorris: I hate you.

lewishamilton: red is your color

⤷ yourusername: I think I’ll go to Ferrari with you then

⤷ georgerussell: TRAITOR YOU BOTH ARE TRAITORS

⤷ yourusername: go to therapy.

charlesleclerc: exited to have both of you and lend some extra money ☺️

⤷ yourusername: I want lec ice cream

⤷ maxverstappen: leave my boy alone.

⤷ yourusername: rude

⤷ maxverstappen: you said you hated me and that red bull was evil

⤷ yourusername: because it is. Fuck Horner. Fuck the FIA.

⤷ checoperez: I wish I could say it out loud

── .✦ winter break, 2025

f1gossipgirl made a post

f1gossipgirl: 📸 SPOTTED ! formula one driver Lewis Hal montón was seen out and about in Brooklyn, New York City having dinner with a mysterious girl. Source said they were very lovely to everyone of the staff and fans that asked for pictures and a lot of pda! What do we think? It’s another one night stand for Lewis or actually love has knocked his door?

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user234: how old is she? 20?

⤷ user231: does it really matter?

user765: if he is happy then we should be happy

user09: I NEED TO SEE THE PDA

user21: so Cindy wasn’t it?

user647: I think the girl is @/yourusername they’ve been interacting with each other’s accounts for a few months now

⤷ user1234: anyone knows her age?

⤷ user934: I think she’s on her 20s

⤷ user01: oh god

⤷ user653: I wish it was me tho

user88: I don’t like age gap relationships.

⤷ yourbff: no one cares

── .✦ winter break, 14th of february 2025

lewishamilton made a post

liked by yourusername, yourbff, yourbrother and 2,435,856 other users

lewishamilton: I hope that you get everything you could ask for: the cold side of your pillow, good peppermint tea with cool wind on the drive home with no traffic for miles, for spring to come. I swear I wasn’t looking for much but that’s just when you happened. Happy Valentine’s Day friend of a friend turned into the love of my life ❤️‍🩹

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user653: HE SAID FUCK IT LETS HARD LUNCH

user88: hard lunch is hard lunching

user123: I don’t like age gap relationships but THEM ✨

yourusername: how did I get so lucky? 🥹 you’re heavenly unreal my lewlew. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you with my whole being. Thank you for loving me and making me real happy ❤️‍🩹

⤷ georgerussell: you met him because of me thats how lucky you are. You’re welcome by the way

⤷ yourusername: why you gotta ruin every single moment?

⤷ georgerussell: I just hate when you kiss it makes me uncomfortable

⤷ yourusername: just move on already

⤷ georgerussell: CRUEL

⤷ yourusername: die

yourbrother: I get it now - love you both real much!

⤷ lewishamilton: thanks for accepting me in your family dude I love you

⤷ yourusername: my men 🥹

⤷ landonorris: i’m part of your men

⤷ yourusername: in your dreams maybe

⤷ francolapinto: I am part of her men

⤷ yourusername: yes you are my bestie 🩷

⤷ francolapinto: beaches for life!

⤷ yourusername: beaches for life ♾️

⤷ landonorris: I hate you all.

carmenmmundt: congrats beautiful people 💞

oscarpiastri: the leclercs are invited to the wedding?

alexandramsaintlux: can’t wait to see you both at the paddok showing your love

⤷ yourusername: I can’t wait to see YOU princess

⤷ charlesleclerc: ur already flirting with MY girlfriend after announcing your relationship with MY FRIEND? back up bitch

⤷ lewishamilton: we will talk before practice charles.

⤷ charlesleclerc: SHE STARTED

⤷ yourusername: 😇

── .✦ winter break, f175 event, february 18th of 2025

f1gossipgirl made a post

f1gossipgirl: 👀❣️ finally the moment everyone was waiting for! The IT couple of formula one just arrived! New Ferrari driver Lewis Hamilton and girlfriend y/n are present at the F175 Live Event in the O2 Arena tonight! They looked so in love and seemed to be having so much fun!

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user234: omg she is SO gorgeous

user23: im so happy for Lewis look at the way he looks at her

user77: get you a man that looks at you the way Lewis looks at y/n

user342: I don’t like them

user934: no one cares! Where are my papaya boys?

user33: she looks so pretty omg Lewis a lucky guy

user184: if they are happy then we should be all happy

user2954: best couple of f1 and I’m sure she’s gonna be the best wag!

user456: she is First Lady of formula one show some respect!

── .✦ melbourne, 2025

yourusername made a post

liked by lewishamilton , zackbrownceo, alexalbon and 967,662 other users

yourusername: as this year’s competition begins, I know I will be at the Ferrari garage supporting my love but my heart will still be black Mercedes 🖤 and that’s because of you Georgie. We can joke and irritate each other on purpose but the friendship we built can conquer it all. Without you I wouldn’t be the person I am today. And I wouldn’t be dating the love of my life. Thank you for being the friend that you are to me and the best of luck for this season! With love, the pain in your ass <3

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carmenmmundt: just for you to know he is crying like a baby

⤷ user234: we are all crying 😭

alexalbon: we love you George

landonorris: we love you George

francolapinto: why this feel as he was dead? He is rich and alive!

⤷ georgerussell: I hate you.

── .✦ THE END

don’t forget to like, reblog and comment! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together)

[eliwatchesf1alot]

me when i thirst over my boys in suits driving their cars

tumblr is so intimate like… i do not act like this around people i know…

[umgeorge]

"🗣️ 'A mankini model' 😂 #F1 stars take on 'If they weren't an F1 Driver' on the red carpet at #f175live" - february 20, 2025 📷 @.sportbible / instagram

[iamred-iamyellow]

yk how men ask women what drs stands for or who won the british grand prix of 1639 when we say we like f1? i think we should band together and start asking them about lore. when was the brocedes divorce hm? 🤨 why’s nico called britney? how did toto and susie meet? #womeninmalefields 

[internalweepingmentality]

I don’t follow F1 and I’m sure he's a lovely man but George Russell looks to me like he’s hiding bodies under his floorboards

[28ms28]

wanna open the treasure trove of f1 textposts?

[falling-feels-like-flying]

Personally believe F1 is about to get entirely too interesting this year. The Prince of Monaco or the 7 time world champion.. who'll bring back glory to Maranello? Will the Rain of Milton Keynes turn into thunder or just drizzle away, Vettel did, didn't he? Did Albon's contemporaries disillusion us into believing in him? Is this the end of Smooooth Operations? I mean, he's already 30, isn't he? Will Mr. Wolff's investments pay off and we'll be fortunate enough to witness a Verstappen 2.0 or will the little boy succumb like many before him? How will the Papaya rules fair off? How long can Piastri play the second fiddle? How often can Norris bottle poles? Will the 7(8?) time WDC win his 8th? They say graveyards are the richest place on Earth, countless dreams are buried here. And above all.. how will Mr Russell cope with the Adidas aesthetics?

[russellius]

[alasarys]

The 2019 Rookies

[pitchcom]

galex - jealousy. jealousy

[f1-tennisgirlie]

Tbf, Carlos ends up having insane chemistry with almost anyone he meets 🥲😭😭

Don't know how to say this without sounding insane so I will sound insane, George and Carlos have insane chemistry, just look at they at the podium

The way they look at each other? Insane sexual energy

That one conference in Australia, full of flirting

And whatever was going on in that one joined interview in Singapore 2023

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Teamwork

George Russell x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Summary: You got between Max and George in Abu Dhabi. Literally.

Warnings: none apart from some curse words and implication of spice

Word count: 0.6k

A/N: I have a few ideas in my drafts after the F1 75 and this is inspired by the beef between George and Max. It’s a silly little blurb, I thought that I’d write the smutty part, but it didn’t come through my mind how to write it well, so I let you imagine what happened next.

Any feedback is welcomed! :)

———

“George, I’m just trying to say that you’re too much sometimes. It wasn’t necessary to say those harsh things about Max to the press.” You were trying to find the key card of your hotel room, pissed off at the scene George just caused with the interview about what happened between him and Max in the stewards room.

“Oh, so you’re sympathizing with him? Perfect. Fucking perfect. And here I thought that you’re on my side.” George ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaustion of the day evident on his face.

“Just because I’m your girlfriend doesn’t mean I’m gonna agree with everything you say.”

“Well, if it’s not the well known British couple.” The voice behind them echoed with smugness and it was Max. That pumped new energy to George’s veins, the audacity of his presence near him was astonishing.

“How dare you even come near me?” George pushed his body from the wall he was leaning over, lunging for him, only for you to get between him and Max to stop the possible fight.

“George! Stop this.” Your hands were placed on his chest while you stood very very close to Max with your back, you could practically feel his nipples through the fabric of your clothes.

Max hummed in surprise, your perfume filling his nostrils and his mind was spinning like crazy. He leaned forward to your hair, his gaze looking up at George to catch his reaction.

“I’m sure she’d like to have a champion in her bed.” He whispered with a teasing chuckle.

Russell’s eyes nearly fell out of the eye sockets even more after he noticed the blush on your cheeks and shiver going down your body.

“You- Verstappen-“

“What? Even she is not happy with your twisted words. How bittersweet to have your own girlfriend standing on my side.” Max pushed your hair from your neck to expose it, his breath hitching when he was hit with more of your beautiful scent, mixed with the heaviness of the day.

“M-Max- stop it-“ you tried to protest, but his lips brushed over that spot between your neck and shoulder, forcing you to gasp, looking at your boyfriend in panic. Well, George was frozen to the ground, watching his rival touching you with mouth agape from shock.

“Do you really want me to?” Max leaned closer to your ear, his hot breath fanning against your skin as he was still watching George with a mischievous spark in his eyes.

You couldn’t breathe, the tension making you weak in your knees, the bubbling feeling of desire pooling in your belly, you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“I thought so.” Max chuckled softly, his hand sliding down your waist to end on your hip.

“So, Russell, let’s decide how this situation will work. You have two choices. First. You’ll be watching how I’m gonna absolutely rail your girl, making her feel all the things you simply can’t give her or… well… we’re gonna show her teamwork and we’re gonna take her together, but I don’t think she’s gonna be able to endure the intensity of our competitiveness.”

Max’s words made you gasp in shock, your cheeks flushed as you looked up at George, shaking your head no.

The Brit just looked at Max, then at you and he said firmly: “Fine. Let’s show her that neither of our sides are good for her.”

———

Please don’t use my writings without permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

-

Tags: @chilling-seavey

[brasiliangp]

GEORGE RUSSELL: F175 LIVE

[mrsfancyferrari]

My Darling

Summary: Out of all the things George says over the years, there's one word that still makes you blush.

Song: Earned It · The Weeknd

Author’s note: THANK YOU FOR THE 1K FOLLOWERS!! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST - F1

The roar of the engine vibrates through your chest, a familiar feeling that settles you even amidst the pre-race jitters. The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. The final race of the season. Another year you’ve spent on the edge of your seat, watching George chase his dream.

You adjust your headset, the noise-cancelling mufflers doing little to completely silence the cacophony of the paddock. He's starting P3 today. A good position. A position where anything can happen.

You've known George Russell since you were awkward teenagers, navigating the minefield of secondary school. He was the lanky, perpetually energetic kid obsessed with karting, and you were the quiet one, buried in books and content to observe from the sidelines.

He dragged you into his world, fuelled by passion and the unwavering belief that he was destined for greatness. He was right, of course.

Now, standing in the Mercedes garage, surrounded by a whirlwind of mechanics and engineers, you feel a surge of pride, so potent it almost makes you dizzy. He’s come so far.

Your focus snaps back as George's voice crackles through your headset. "…and then, darling, I told Toto that the balance felt a little off in turn 7. We made some adjustments, and it's feeling much better now."

Darling.

That single word, so casually dropped, still manages to send a jolt of electricity through you. It always has. It's a habit of his, a comfortable term of endearment he seems to bestow on everyone from his mother to the team's catering staff. But when he says it to you, it feels different. Warmer. More intimate.

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. "Good to hear. Just focus on the start, George. You've got this." You manage to say, hoping your voice doesn't betray your inner turmoil.

"Always do, darling. Always do." He chuckles, and the sound sends another shiver down your spine. "See you after the race."

The line goes dead, and you let out a shaky breath. You hate this. Hated the way one simple word could throw you off balance.

You grab your clipboard, feigning interest in the tyre strategy, desperately trying to regain your composure.

The race unfolds in a blur of adrenaline and anxiety. You watch, heart hammering against your ribs, as George battles for position, expertly navigating the tight corners and high-speed straights.

Every overtake, every defensive move, sends a wave of relief or panic washing over you. He finishes second. A great result.

Later, after the post-race interviews and the podium celebrations, you find him in the cool-down room, towelling off his sweaty hair. He looks exhausted but exhilarated, his eyes shining with hard-earned triumph.

"You were amazing out there," you say, offering him a water bottle.

He takes a long swig, the muscles in his throat working. "Thanks. Felt good. Could have been better, but I'll take it." He grins, and the weariness seems to melt away. "So, darling, what did you think of that move on Leclerc in turn 6?"

There it is again. That word.

You feel your cheeks flush. "It was… impressive. Very aggressive."

He laughs. "Had to be! He wasn't going to give me the position otherwise. Besides," he adds, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I knew you were watching. Had to put on a show."

Your heart skips a beat. "Oh, really?" You try to sound nonchalant, but your voice wavers slightly.

"Of course! Always got to impress my biggest fan." He playfully nudges your shoulder. "So, fancy grabbing some dinner? Celebratory Nando’s?"

Nando’s it is. You and George have had a tradition to go to Nando’s after every single race since he started in F1.

The restaurant is buzzing with energy, filled with fans buzzing about the race. You and George manage to find a relatively quiet booth in a corner, and settle in.

"So," George says, after you've both ordered your food, "what did you really think about the race?"

You tell him honestly, praising his overtaking skills, gently pointing out a couple of areas where he could have been smoother. He listens intently, nodding occasionally, absorbing your feedback. He values your opinion, always has.

Even after all his success, he still trusts your judgement.

"You know," he says, leaning back in his seat, "I really appreciate you being here, at all the races, darling. It means a lot."

The word hangs in the air between you, charged with unspoken meaning. You look down at your hands, fiddling with the edge of the napkin.

"I wouldn't miss it," you say softly. "Seeing you achieve your dreams… it's incredible."

He reaches across the table and takes your hand, his touch warm and comforting. "You've been there since the beginning. Through all the karting races, the Formula 4 championships, everything. You've always believed in me, even when I doubted myself."

You meet his gaze, your heart swelling with emotions you've kept buried for far too long. "I always will, George."

A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the clatter of plates and the murmur of conversations around you. Then, George speaks again, his voice thoughtful.

"You know, I don't think I tell you enough how much I appreciate you, darling. You're not just a friend, you're… you're family."

Family. The word echoes in your mind, a bittersweet melody. You cherish your friendship with George, but you long for something more. Something deeper.

"I feel the same way," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

The food arrives, momentarily interrupting the conversation. You both dig in, the familiar taste of peri-peri chicken a welcome distraction. But the unspoken feelings still linger in the air, a tangible presence between you.

At the end of the meal, George drives you home. As he turns to you before you get out of the car, he says, “I had a great time, darling. We should do it again.”

As the years pass, George's career continues to soar. He wins races, challenges for championships, becomes a household name. Your life, too, evolves.

You pursue your own dreams, excel in your chosen field, building a successful career. But through it all, your friendship with George remains a constant, a source of unwavering support and affection.

And still, he calls you "darling."

He doesn’t realize the effect he has on you. How your heart skips a beat when he says it, how your palms get clammy, how you have to consciously fight the urge to blurt out something ridiculously embarrassing. He uses it with everyone, you tell yourself.

It's just a friendly term of endearment. But still, you can't help but feel a little different when he says it to you. Special, even.

One evening, years after that Abu Dhabi race, you're at George's house, helping him pack for the summer break. He's sprawled on the bed, surrounded by a mountain of clothes, looking utterly overwhelmed.

"I have no idea what to take," he groans, running a hand through his hair. "It's supposed to be relaxing, but I always end up overpacking."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Leave it to me. I'm a master packer."

You start sorting through the clothes, folding shirts and neatly arranging them in his suitcase. George watches you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"You know," he says, after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "you're the only person who can make packing look effortless."

"Years of practice," you reply, without looking up.

"Speaking of years," he continues, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "we've known each other for a really long time, haven't we, darling?"

There it is again. That word. But tonight, it feels different. Heavier. More deliberate.

You finally meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "We have," you say softly.

He held your gaze for a long moment, his expression unreadable. You could see the gears turning in his head, something shifting behind those hazel eyes. You braced yourself, wondering if he was finally going to say something, anything, to acknowledge the undercurrent that buzzed between you.

But then, he blinked, and the moment was gone. He chuckled, a light, disarming sound. "It's crazy, isn't it? All those years of school, all the races we've been to, all the… well, everything. Time flies when you're having fun, I guess."

Relief and disappointment warred within you. He wasn’t going to confess anything. He wasn't going to say anything at all. He was just going to keep calling you “darling,” completely unaware of the effect it had on you.

You forced a smile, trying to match his lighthearted tone. "It does. And we've definitely had a lot of… everything."

He nodded, leaning back against the headboard. "Remember that time in Monaco, when you accidentally dumped a bucket of ice water on Toto?"

You groaned. "Don't remind me. I thought I was going to be banned from Formula 1 for life."

He laughed, a genuine, booming sound that filled the room. "You were lucky he has a sense of humor. Anyway, back to the packing. What do you think? Three pairs of swim trunks or four?"

The tension had dissipated, replaced by the comfortable familiarity that had defined your friendship for so long. You sighed inwardly. The moment had passed, and with it, any hope of clarity.

You turned back to the suitcase, picking up a pair of bright blue swim trunks. "Three is plenty, darling. Unless you're planning on entering a speed-swimming competition."

He grinned, completely oblivious. “You never know!”

The rest of the evening passed in a comfortable blur of folded clothes, shared memories, and lighthearted banter. You told him about your upcoming photography exhibition, he regaled you with stories of his disastrous attempt at learning to surf, and the word "darling" continued to slip from his lips with casual ease, each utterance a tiny pinprick of longing.

Later, as you were leaving, George walked you to the door. He paused, his hand resting on your arm. "Thanks for doing this," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "I really appreciate it. You always know how to make things easier."

"Anytime," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just promise me you won't spend the entire vacation glued to your phone."

He chuckled. "I'll try my best, darling."

He hugged you goodbye, a brief, friendly embrace that left you wanting more. As you walked down the driveway, you could feel his gaze on your back.

You resisted the urge to turn around, knowing that seeing him standing there, bathed in the warm glow of the porch light, would only make your heart ache more.

You knew, with a certainty that settled heavy in your stomach, that George wasn't going to say anything. He was comfortable with the way things were, with your comfortable friendship, with the casual affection he expressed so freely.

And you, you were destined to remain on the periphery of his life, forever blushing at a word he didn't even realize held so much power.

As you drove away, you whispered to yourself, “Goodbye, darling.” It tasted of longing and unrequited hope. You knew that the word would continue to haunt you, a constant reminder of a love that could never be. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Maybe the quiet ache of longing was better than the risk of shattering the fragile balance of your friendship. . . .

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

The Ibizan sun beat down on George, but he barely registered it. He lay sprawled on a white sun lounger, the epitome of relaxation, yet a million miles away in his head.

His family buzzed around him; his father tinkering with the pool filter, his sister Cara splashing in the shimmering water with her children tossing a frisbee. Normally, he would be right in the thick of it, teasing his nieces, engaging in some competitive sports.

But not today. Today, he was lost in the past.

He clutched his phone, the screen replaying a grainy video. It was eight years old, a relic from a simpler time. A time before roaring engines, screaming fans, and the relentless pressure of Formula 1. A time when his biggest concern was acing his Physics exam and impressing a certain girl with sparkling eyes and a mischievous grin.

That girl was Y/N.

The video, a chaotic mess of shaky camera work and teenage exuberance, documented a day in their 'exciting' secondary school life. Y/N, the mastermind behind the whole thing, had insisted on capturing their mundane reality for posterity.

He remembered protesting at the time, embarrassed by the prospect of immortalising their awkwardness. Now, he was grateful.

On the screen, a younger version of himself, all gangly limbs and nervous energy, fumbled with his tie as he walked alongside Y/N. Her laughter, bright and infectious, echoed from the phone's speakers, cutting through the gentle lapping of the pool water. She was narrating, her voice brimming with youthful enthusiasm.

"Good morning, world! It's Y/N, and this is 'A Day in the Life of Two Utterly Average Teenagers'. Prepare for thrills, spills, and questionable fashion choices!"

The video cut to a shaky shot of the school gates, then to a montage of their lessons. George cringed as he watched himself struggle to solve a quadratic equation, Y/N whispering the answer beside him with a playful smirk. There was a clip of them sharing chips at lunchtime, fighting over the last one. Another of them huddled over textbooks in the library, Y/N’s hand resting lightly on his arm as she explained a complex concept. He could almost feel the warmth of her touch, the faint scent of her lavender perfume that always lingered in the air around her.

The video was utterly pointless, utterly ridiculous, and utterly captivating. It was a window into a time when life was uncomplicated, when happiness resided in shared glances and whispered jokes. It was a reminder of the deep connection he shared with Y/N, a connection that had only deepened with time.

He was supposed to be sharing this holiday with her. They had planned it for months, a much-needed escape from the relentless F1 calendar. But then, a last-minute work commitment had forced her to cancel. An important project, she had explained apologetically, her voice laced with disappointment. He had understood, of course, but it didn't make her absence any easier to bear.

He was so engrossed in the video, reliving those cherished memories, that he didn’t notice someone sitting beside him until they spoke.

"Where's Y/N? I haven't seen her in a while," his mother, Alison, asked, her voice laced with concern.

George jumped, startled, nearly dropping his phone. He looked up at his mother, her eyes filled with gentle curiosity. “Oh, hi Mum. She… she couldn’t make it. Work stuff.”

Alison's brow furrowed. "That's a shame. I was looking forward to seeing her. She's practically family at this point."

George smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "She is, Mum. She really is."

He paused the video, the image of a laughing Y/N frozen on the screen. "I miss her, you know?" he confessed, the vulnerability surprising even himself. "I miss just… being around her. Being normal."

Alison reached out and squeezed his hand. "I know, darling. It's hard when life pulls you in different directions. But you two have something special. Don't let anything break that."

He nodded, his throat tight. "I won't." He knew she was right. Their connection was strong, forged in the crucible of shared experiences and unwavering support. It had weathered long distances, demanding careers, and the constant pressures of his public life. He wouldn't let it falter now.

"Show me the video," Alison said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Let's see what you two were like back in the day."

George hesitated for a moment, then handed her the phone. As they watched the video together, he found himself explaining the context, reliving the stories behind each clip. His mother laughed at their teenage antics, her face softening with fondness. He realised, with a surge of gratitude, that his family understood his relationship with you. They saw something special in it, something he had been too afraid to acknowledge.

After the video ended, Alison handed the phone back to him. "She's a good one, George. Don't take her for granted."

"I won't, Mum. I promise," he'd replied, a little too quickly.

Then came the bombshell. “Try and ask her out soon,” she added, her eyes twinkling.

“What!” he said, his voice cracking slightly. He hadn’t expected that. He thought his mum would be more cautious, tell him to take things slow. This was the opposite of that.

“Oh, come on! Everyone can see it, George. Except maybe you, in your state of blissful denial.” His sister, Cara, perched beside him on the sun lounger, her eyes knowing. "She's practically perfect for you, you know. Smart, funny, loves dogs… what's not to like?"

The rest of the holiday passed in a blur of sun, sea, and a constant internal debate. You were always on his mind.

He found himself reaching for his phone to text you, only to stop himself, unsure of what to say. He didn't want to jeopardize their friendship with clumsy advances. Rejection scared him, especially from you.

He glanced at the group of sunbathers by the pool, families laughing and couples holding hands. It made him feel a pang of loneliness, a longing for something more than just friendship with you.

Finally, on the last day of the holiday, he decided he couldn't put it off any longer. He needed to talk to you. At least, send a message. He typed and deleted several texts, each one sounding more ridiculous than the last.

“Hey Y/N, just thinking of you. Hope you’re having a good week!” - Too generic.

“Missing you! Greece is great, but it would be better with you.” - Way too forward.

“Fancy grabbing a coffee when I get back?” - Too casual.

He groaned and threw his phone onto the sun lounger. He was overthinking it. Terribly.

Later that evening, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, George found himself alone on the beach. The gentle lapping of the waves was the only sound that broke the silence. He picked up a smooth, white stone and skimmed it across the water.

"Overthinking it, are we?"

George jumped, startled, and turned to see his sister, Cara, walking towards him, a knowing smile on her face.

"How did you…?" he began.

"Oh, please. I know you better than you know yourself," she said, sitting down beside him on the sand. "Look, George, I know you're scared. You don't want to ruin the friendship you have with Y/N. But sometimes, you have to take risks. Life's too short to wonder 'what if?'"

He sighed. "It's just… what if she doesn't feel the same way? What if I make things awkward? What if…?"

"What if she does?" Cara interrupted. "What if she's been waiting for you to make a move? You won't know unless you try. And honestly, the way she looks at you? It's pretty obvious to everyone but you."

Cara’s words hung in the air, a stark challenge to his own self-doubt. He knew she was right. He couldn't let fear dictate his actions. He had to be brave.

When George returned home, he went straight to his apartment and after some thought, he texted you.

He replayed their text exchange in his head, his palms sweating.

George: Hey darling, how are you doing? Hope work isn't too crazy.

Y/N: Hey George! Glad you're back from your holidays. I'm good, swamped with work as always, but surviving. How was Ibiza?

George: It was nice, but glad to be home. Actually, I was wondering if you were free sometime this week? I’d love to hear all about what you’ve been working on.

Y/N: I might be. What did you have in mind?

George: There’s this new italian place I've been wanting to try.

Y/N: Dinner? You’re asking me on date, George?

That text had sent his heart into overdrive.

George: Only if you want it to be.

The agonizing minutes of waiting, the wave of relief when she finally responded.

Y/N: I’d like that very much.

He knew he had to confess. He couldn’t just dance around the issue any longer, teasing himself and her. He had to lay it all on the line after dinner.

Now, as he waited for the time to pick her up, he felt a nervous energy he hadn't experienced since his first F1 race. He checked his reflection one last time, smoothing down his hair.

He was wearing a crisp, dark blue shirt, tailored to fit perfectly, and dark jeans.

Smart casual, he hoped. . . .

The hum of the hair dryer vibrates in your hand, a dull counterpoint to the frantic drum solo your heart is currently playing. George asked you to dinner. Just dinner. A friendly dinner. To discuss work and his upcoming holiday.

You repeat the mantra in your head like a lifeline, trying to quell the butterflies that have taken up residence in your stomach.

The dryer clicks off, and you stare at your reflection in the mirror. A strand of hair stubbornly refuses to cooperate, twisting into a rogue curl despite your best efforts.

You sigh. This is ridiculous. It's just dinner. With George. Your best friend. Right?

Your gaze drifts towards the two dresses laid out on your bed, each a stark contrast to the other, each holding a different promise. The first, a little black dress, is a classic. Short, sleek, and undeniably alluring.

It hugs your curves in all the right places, the low-cut neckline hinting at just enough skin to be intriguing without being overtly provocative. You imagine yourself in it, feeling confident and sophisticated, ready to take on the world.

Or at least, ready to face George.

Then there's the blue dress. Long, flowing, and ethereal. The color is a vibrant cerulean, mirroring the summer sky, and the fabric shimmers with a subtle, almost otherworldly glow.

It's elegant and understated, the kind of dress that makes you feel like you could float away on a gentle breeze. It hides more than it reveals, whispering of secrets and untold stories.

You pace between the two dresses, your mind a battlefield of conflicting desires. The black dress screams confidence, but is it trying too hard?

Would George think you're trying to send a message that isn't there? The blue dress, on the other hand, feels more like you. Honest. Authentic. But is it too… casual?

After what feels like an eternity, you make your decision. The blue dress. It feels right. It feels like you. And tonight, you need to be yourself.

You slip into the dress, the cool fabric cascading down your body like liquid silk. You smooth it over your hips, feeling a sense of calm settle over you. A light touch of mascara, a swipe of your favorite lip gloss, and you're ready.

The doorbell rings, and your heart leaps into your throat. You take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure, and walk towards the door.

When you open it, George is standing there, looking impossibly handsome in a tailored crisp, dark blue shirt and dark jeans. His blue eyes widen slightly as he takes you in, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face.

"Wow darling," he says softly, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. "You look… amazing."

You blush, feeling your cheeks flush with heat. "Thanks," you manage to stammer, your voice betraying your nervousness. "You look pretty good yourself."

He grins, that familiar, boyish grin that still makes your heart skip a beat after all these years. "Shall we?" he asks, extending his arm.

You slip your arm through his, and together, you step out into the warm evening air.

He leads you to his car, a sleek, dark Mercedes that screams money and success. He opens the passenger door for you with a flourish. "After you darling," he says, a playful glint in his eyes.

As you slide into the buttery leather seat, the scent of his cologne – a subtle blend of spice and citrus – fills your senses. You buckle your seatbelt, acutely aware of his presence beside you.

“So,” he says, pulling away from the curb. “Italian tonight? Heard they make a mean carbonara.”

“Italian’s perfect,” you reply, relieved that the awkwardness seems to be dissipating. “I’m starving.”

The drive is comfortable, punctuated by easy conversation. You catch up on his whirlwind month – the adrenaline-fueled races, the sun-drenched beaches of his holiday. He listens intently as you recount your own, significantly less glamorous, experiences at work.

“It’s nice to just… talk,” he says, his voice softer than usual. He glances at you briefly, a fleeting smile playing on his lips. “It feels like it’s been forever.”

“It has,” you agree, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “A month is a lifetime in George Russell time.”

He chuckles. “Tell me about it. Sometimes I feel like I’m living five different lives at once.”

The restaurant is tucked away on a quiet street, a charming establishment with twinkling fairy lights and the comforting aroma of garlic and herbs. George leads you to a table tucked in a cozy corner, away from the main bustle of the dining room.

“Table for two, Signore Russell?” the waiter asks, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

“That’s right,” George replies, flashing him a charming smile. “And this lovely lady is… Y/N.”

You smile at the waiter, feeling a surge of affection for George. He always remembers to introduce you, no matter how famous he gets.

As you settle into your seats, you have the familiar sensation of being utterly at ease in George's presence. You've known each other since you were both gangly teenagers with braces and questionable fashion choices.

You've seen him at his best and his worst – celebrating victories, nursing broken hearts, struggling through exam stress. He's seen you through equally tumultuous times.

The conversation flows effortlessly as you peruse the menu. You reminisce about old times – the disastrous school play where George forgot his lines, the time you accidentally set his hair on fire during a chemistry experiment, the countless late-night study sessions fuelled by copious amounts of sugary snacks.

“Remember Mr. Henderson’s history class?” you ask, laughing. “He used to fall asleep mid-sentence.”

George shakes his head, grinning. “And we’d draw moustaches on his notes. Good times, darling, good times.”

That word again. Darling. It still has the same effect on you.

As the waiter takes your order, George leans forward, his expression becoming more serious. “So, how are you, really?” he asks, his blue eyes searching yours. “How’s everything going?”

You hesitate for a moment, unsure how much to reveal. “I’m… okay,” you say cautiously. “Work’s been hectic, but nothing I can’t handle.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “And personally?”

You sigh. “Honestly, it’s been a little lonely. I miss having you around.”

His gaze softens. “I miss you too,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “More than you know.”

As your meals arrived, the waiter offered a bottle of Chianti. George raised an eyebrow at you in question, and you nodded, deciding to throw caution to the wind. The wine was rich and smooth, loosening your tongue and easing the tension that still lingered beneath the surface.

"Remember that time we tried to sneak into that over-18s club?" you asked, swirling the wine in your glass.

George laughed. "And got caught immediately! Your fake ID was so bad, it said you were born in 1888."

"Hey, it was worth a shot," you retorted, grinning. "Besides, we ended up having more fun at that dodgy karaoke bar. Your rendition of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' was truly unforgettable."

The laughter flowed freely, punctuated by shared memories and inside jokes. You talked about everything and nothing, the years melting away as you rediscovered the easy camaraderie that had always defined your friendship.

"It's just… it's hard, isn't it?” you said, the smile fading slightly. “Watching you achieve all your dreams, knowing that you're living the life you always wanted. I'm happy for you, I truly am, but it also makes me question my own choices."

George reached across the table and took your hand, his touch sending a familiar shiver down your spine. "Don't," he said softly. "Don't ever think that your life is any less important or fulfilling than mine. We all have different paths to follow, different things that make us happy."

He paused, his gaze intense. "And, to be honest, sometimes I envy you. You have a sense of normalcy, a stability that I often crave. The racing world is… insane. It's all-consuming. Sometimes I wish I could just escape it all and live a normal life, like you."

You laughed, incredulous. "You? Want to be normal? I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it," he said, squeezing your hand. "And you know what else? All this success, all the trophies and champagne… they mean nothing if I can't share them with the people I care about."

The rest of the meal passed in a comfortable haze of wine, conversation, and shared history. As the waiter cleared the table, George suggested a walk. You readily agreed.

As you stepped out onto the bustling city street, the cool air sent a shiver down your spine. The night was alive with the hum of traffic and the murmur of conversations spilling from open doorways.

Neon signs cast a colourful glow on the wet pavement, reflecting in the puddles like scattered jewels.

"Do we know where we're going, or are we just wandering?" you asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

George simply grinned, that familiar, charming grin that had always made your stomach flutter a little. "Don't worry, trust me."

Trust George? You always had. You'd known him since the awkward days of secondary school, a lifetime ago. He was a constant, a familiar comfort in your life. You started walking, falling into step beside him.

The conversation flowed easily, as it always did between you. He talked about the upcoming Formula 1 season, the pressure, the anticipation, the relentless training. He spoke of the new car, the tweaks, the improvements they were hoping for. His passion was infectious, even to someone like you, who only understood the basics of motorsport.

Then, you found yourself venting about your own work. Another day, another unreasonable client, another project that felt soul-crushingly pointless. "Honestly, George," you sighed, "I think I'm going to lose my mind if I have to write another article about the top ten cat breeds for apartment living. My creative soul is dying a slow and painful death."

He chuckled, squeezing your hand gently. "You know, you could always quit. You're talented, you could do anything you want. Write that novel you've been talking about for years. Open that quirky little bookstore you always dreamed of. Life's too short to be writing about Persian fluffballs."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Easy for you to say, Mr. Multi-Millionaire Racing Driver. Someone has to pay the bills."

"Hey," he protested playfully, "I'd happily support you. Think of it as an investment in the arts."

"Very generous," you teased. "Maybe I should just marry you for your money."

He stopped walking, turning to face you, his expression suddenly serious. "Don't say that, even as a joke." He paused, then added softly, "I wouldn't want you to marry me for the wrong reasons."

The intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. You quickly looked away, a sudden wave of nervousness washing over you. "I was just kidding, obviously."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied, and resumed walking. The comfortable rhythm of your conversation was slightly disrupted, replaced by a strange, unspoken tension. You both walked in silence for a little bit.

After some time, you noticed that the sounds of the city were fading, replaced by the gentle roar of the ocean. The air smelled of salt and seaweed.

"Where are we going?" you asked, curiosity piqued.

He just smiled mysteriously. "Almost there."

Finally, he stopped. You were standing on a deserted stretch of beach, the waves crashing softly against the shore. In the distance, you could see the faint glow of the city lights reflecting on the water. And then you saw them.

Balloons. Dozens of them, bobbing gently in the night breeze. They were inflated with helium, their strings tied to small weights that kept them from floating away. And emblazoned across the balloons, in large, cheerful letters, were the words: "WILL YOU BE MY GIRLFRIEND?"

Your breath caught in your throat. You must have stumbled upon someone else's surprise, you thought. It was a sweet gesture, incredibly romantic. You started to turn to George, ready to apologize for intruding on someone's special moment.

"George, I think someone is asking some…" The words died in your throat as you saw what he was holding. A bouquet of your favorite flowers, lilies and roses, their delicate petals illuminated by the faint moonlight.

Your hand flew to your mouth, stifling a gasp. What? This couldn't be…

George looked incredibly nervous, his usually confident demeanor replaced by a vulnerability you'd rarely seen. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clutching the flowers tightly.

He took a deep breath and began to speak, his voice slightly shaky. "Darling," he said, and the sound of that single word sent a shiver down your spine. Out of all the things George had said to you over the years, there was something about "darling" that was uniquely special. It felt warm, intimate, and utterly disarming.

"Darling, from the moment I was paired with you in year nine to do that disastrous science experiment," he continued, a small smile playing on his lips, "I knew you were going to be a special person in my life. I just didn't know how special until a few months ago. Will you be my special person and be my girlfriend?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You couldn't believe this was happening. You and George? After all these years? It felt like something out of a movie, too perfect to be real.

"Yes, George," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Relief washed over his face, and the biggest grin you'd ever seen spread across his features. He carefully placed the bouquet on the sand, then stepped towards you, his eyes shining with happiness.

He reached out, cupping your face in his hands. "Really? Yes?"

You nodded, unable to speak. The tears were flowing freely now, but they were tears of joy, of disbelief, of pure, unadulterated happiness.

He lowered his head and gently kissed you. It was a soft, sweet kiss, filled with tenderness and affection. It was a kiss you had dreamed about countless times, a kiss you never thought would actually happen.

When he pulled away, he was grinning from ear to ear. "I can't believe it," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You actually said yes."

"Of course, I said yes," you replied, laughing through your tears. "What took you so long?"

He chuckled, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I was terrified," he admitted. "I didn't want to ruin our friendship. You're one of the most important people in my life, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

You hugged him tighter, burying your face in his shoulder. "You could never lose me, George. I've been secretly in love with you since that disastrous science experiment in year nine."

He laughed, squeezing you even closer. "So, all this time…"

"All this time," you confirmed, pulling back to look at him. "Now, about those balloons…"

The rest of the night was a blur of laughter, whispered confessions, and stolen kisses under the moonlight. You walked along the beach, hand in hand, talking about the future, about your hopes and dreams, about all the possibilities that lay ahead.

Later, as you sat wrapped in his arms, watching the sunrise paint the sky in hues of pink and orange, you finally found the courage to tease him.

"You had me scared for a second there," you laughed softly, nuzzling into his chest.

"Why?" George asked worriedly, his arms tightening around you.

"Your speech sounded like a proposal," you said, your voice light and teasing.

George grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, you're going to be a fiancée soon enough."

You gasped, playfully shoving him. "George! Don't even joke about that!"

He laughed, pulling you closer. "I'm not joking, darling. I know we've only just started dating, but I know what I want. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Your heart fluttered. "You're crazy," you whispered, but there was no denying the warmth spreading through you.

"Crazy about you," he corrected, kissing your forehead. "Now, tell me, what kind of ring do you like? Just so I have an idea," he winked at you

You playfully roll your eyes, burying your face in his shoulder. "You're getting ahead of yourself."

"Am I?" George playfully nips at your ear. "Maybe. But a guy can dream, can't he?"

The first rays of sunlight kiss your skin, a soft warmth that mirrors the feeling in your heart. You are finally with George, the man you have loved for so long.

And as you look up at him, at the love shining in his eyes, you know that this is just the beginning of your beautiful life together. . .

[obsessedhoneycomb]

I remember how I got the idea for this fic sitting in my car, drenched from the summer rain, with the only a piece of bread for dinner with some butter (giiiiirl dinner), waiting desperately for another paycheck, while I was scrolling through the instagram where everybody posted about being fancy at Wimbledon. 😅

Wimbledon

George Russell x fem!reader

Summary: when George wants something, he always gets it. No matter how hard she’s trying to resist.

Warnings: some curse words; implied smut, but nothing extra steamy; mostly fluff and love; George being a cocky bastard; no use of y/n

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: I wrote this a while ago, so I did some proof reading, but it still can hold some mistakes, because English is not my first language. Enjoy it, babes!

I don’t own any images, they’re from Pinterest. Please don’t use my writings without my permission!

“If I get a pole, you’re gonna go to Wimbledon with me.” George smirked looking at her, and she rolled her eyes, not amused.

“Why would I want this?” She asked with arms crossed on her chest.

“Because you wouldn’t want me to tell Susie, that you’re flirting with Toto on daily basis.” George knew about the flirting and he also knew, that she wouldn’t want to destroy the Wolffs marriage.

Clearing her throat, she looked over the people around. “You wouldn’t do this. The last thing I want is to destroy people’s lives.”

“Then you’ll go with me to the Wimbledon if I win or not.” George smirked again knowing that she’s trapped in this.

“You’re an asshole.” She said feeling little embarrassed.

“But you like it, don’t you?” He said in low voice brushing past her getting himself prepared for race. Toto saw their interaction and was curious what left her in that shook state.

“Are you okay?” Toto’s voice interrupted her reel of thoughts as she put on her okay face again.

“Yes, yes, I’m okay. I need to get back to checking the car.” She avoided his eyes as she walked quickly towards the car looking over it.

Susie walked in to the garage, surprising everyone by her presence. George smirked, he was in the process of putting on his helmet, she was looking at him with stern look while Toto was greeting Susie as a good husband would do.

“The car is okay. I think today is a good day to get you to that pole.” After a while she came to George while writing something to her papers.

“I’m gonna do everything I can to get that. Wish me luck, princess.” He said as he hopped in the car.

She just smiled a little. Maybe she was attracted to his cocky persona. Maybe she wished deep down for him to get the pole to be with him at Wimbledon.

———

And that was it. They were sitting together at the royal booth along with other celebrities. Social media were already full of their photos together and she tried to put on her best smile. Wearing the silk creamy dress with cardigan over her shoulders, she screamed royalty along with him wearing striped dark blue blazer with white shirt underneath along with tie and white pants. Like they were born to be beside each other.

When she was focused on the game, George was watching her through his sunglasses. As the one of the players won the set, she gasped in excitement. Was it from the game or from the feeling of George’s hand on her bare knee?

She turned her look at him only to see his smirk plastered on his face as he tried to look invested at the game.

She let out a little huff, placing her hand on his, nonchalantly sneaking her fingers around his palm. He squeezed her fingers lightly.

“That game is pretty interesting, don’t you think?” She leaned closer to his shoulder, speaking in low voice. He felt her breath on his neck and it made him shiver a little.

“Yeah, very intense, I would say.” He said calmly with smirk. His hand on her knee moved a little up her thigh. She took in a sharp breath. Quickly she carefully looked around them, if someone seen what he’s doing. Her hand tried to get his hand away but it resulted only in his getting even higher moving her dress to reveal more of her skin.

She looked up at him in disbelief and he was already looking at her with smirk.

“What? I thought that you find this game interesting.” He said in amused tone.

“Are you trying to embarrass me? This is not appropriate.” She said nearly whispering.

George only chuckled, averting his gaze at the court as his hand moved back adjusting her dress. Then he placed his hand in her lap, finding hers and intertwining with it. She cleared her throat being slightly calm with the outcome.

After the game, they were up to meet a Novak Djokovic, George took many photos with the fans around as she watched it. She knew there was also a people snapping photos of her with him, already conspiring what they are.

Meeting with Novak was great, she already met with him a few times.

“So, you two together here at Wimbledon, that’s something.” Novak said amused. Oh no, he’s also the one to tease it, she was thinking.

“Yeah, I needed to get my girl into that nice dress when the only thing we wear is race suits or Mercedes merch. Also we’re fans of tennis so…” George chuckled as she looked at him in slight disbelief and Novak noticed.

“Oh, your girl. I didn’t know that you’re official. Took you long enough.” Novak grinned.

“We’re not-“ she tried to have a word in this, but was interrupted by George’s hand around her waist.

“We’re not used to all that attention, so we kept it a secret for a while, but I think the Wimbledon was a great chance to get into that spotlight, don’t you think love?” George smirked looking down at her, something loving in his eyes.

She felt trapped, but understood the assignment. “That’s true. We tried to be secret for so long, that we grew tired of it. It was really exhausting.”

“Congratulations. You two are a good match, I saw it coming.” Novak winked as he walked away to prepare for his game.

She parted from George quickly, going for the champagne from the nearest bar. He just followed her calmly, because there was no chance of her escaping him.

As she gulped a champagne, he was standing beside her, getting a cup with strawberries, she knew that it was his strange tradition, getting strawberries at the Wimbledon.

He slowly took a bite from one of the berries looking around them at other people.

“So, what if I don’t want to be your girl?” She said turning her body to face him.

He scoffed looking at her. “If you really didn’t want this, you’d be fighting like a lioness back there to assure Novak, that we’re not dating. You wouldn’t be standing here with me, you wouldn’t want to be near me. So. Do you want to be my girl?” George ate another of the berries, there was something about the way he just bit into them that made her mind go wild.

“Are you serious or is it one of your games? Because I’m not some play toy, Russell.” She said in serious tone. Ah, there it was, her calling him by his surname. It was always a turn on for him.

“I’m dead serious, princess.” He grabbed another berry and gestured for her to open her mouth and she obeyed, still holding his gaze. As he was about to place a berry in her mouth, he quickly put it away and kissed her lips instead. She gasped surprised, but quickly gave into the kiss, her hands sneaking around his neck. He smirked into the kiss, feeling of her soft lips shook his entire body. She tried to deepen the kiss, her tongue softly licking on his lips, he tasted like strawberry.

They parted after a while, her hands placed on his chest to steady her in her place as his rested at her hips.

“You really are unbelievable, Russell.” She chuckled.

“If you call me Russell one more time, I’m not gonna last to the hotel room.” He said with dark gaze.

“We wouldn’t want that, right, Russell?” She leaned closer to him just for whisper into his ear with chuckle.

That was the last straw. In one hand, he held the cup with strawberries, and in another her hand as he guided them through the crowd to the parking lot, where the driver was waiting for them. When they got to the car, George took off his blazer like a gentleman, pulled off his tie, navigating the driver to their hotel. Then he averted his attention to her, getting strawberry into his hand and then to her mouth. She took it in her mouth, chewing and finally gulping. With that his lips was on hers for another round of kissing. This time it was passionate, wild and sweet. His hand on her neck, steadying her in place as she was holding him by his upper arm.

“Oh, George, you’re… really something.” She said in between the kisses when she tried to catch her breath.

“Wait until we get to the hotel. You’re gonna be more surprised.” He whispered as he bit on her lower lip.

———

The clock hit midnight, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her body wrapped in the sheets as George was getting her a glass of water. He sat beside her, watching how she downed the whole glass.

“You’re a beast, George.” She exhaled with chuckle, her face showing how she’s tired from their evening activities.

“I didn’t expect you being this wild. I clearly underestimated you.” He chuckled jokingly.

“So. Are we a thing or is this some friends with benefits kind of stuff?” She looked at him with serious look.

George retrieved the glass from her hand, putting it down on the bedside table. Then he cupped her face with his hands.

“I told you already, that you’re my girl. I would scream it to the whole world, if I could. This is not some one time thing, I really want to cherish you, take care of you, love you. Because you mean so much to me, you can’t even imagine.” His eyes were full of love, he was truly mesmerised by her.

She was ready to melt on the spot from his words.

“Beside all the teasing and banter we had to this day, I had a crush on you since you were racing for the Williams. But as time progressed I thought that you’re just cocky asshole, who wouldn’t even talk to me. And then you got to Mercedes and my head was spinning every time I needed to talk to you. That’s why I started to flirt with Toto, to clear my head and get some fun. From my side it was harmless, but I think you stepped in in right time, because he seemed to take the flirting on another level.” She ran her hand through her hair with sigh.

“You don’t need to worry now about Toto. I knew that you would never want to hurt Susie, I just wanted to poke that feelings in you, to get them to the light. And it worked.” He smirked.

“I’m so happy you did it. My heart is fluttering right now.” she chuckled leaning against his shoulder. He pulled her closer, kissing her temple.

“I was actually taken aback by you from the moment I saw you around the paddock. But I was so young and you always had that unavailable face.”

“That’s my mask to unwanted attention.” She chuckled.

“We need to get to Hungary in the morning. It’s the media day, would you like to fly with me or by yourself?” He teased her.

“You’re already trying to get rid of me this soon. Shame on you, Russell.”

“You know what it’s doing to me, you calling me that.”

———

Media day went pretty well, all eyes and cameras were on them, as they tried to keep their composure. She was stuck in the garage, preparing George’s car for the practice session, and George was sitting with the press, smiling and talking like he usually did.

“So, you and George, huh?” Toto stood beside her looking over the car casually.

“Wha- Yeah.” She was little startled by his sudden presence but she kept it cool.

“I didn’t know that you’re a thing.” Toto said a little saddened?

I didn’t know either, but here we are, she thought.

“It may seem confusing, yeah.” She chuckled while writing something to the data sheet.

“I thought that we… You know.” He leaned closer.

She took in the sharp breath pointing her pen to him, looking serious. “As much as it was flattering to talk with you, you have a family, a wife. We can’t talk like we used to. I’m sorry I let you misunderstood the situation.”

In that moment George appeared at the entrance of the garage seeing how she pointed her pen towards Toto, who looked at her with furrowed brows.

“Hey, baby.” George walked to them, standing beside her, kissing her temple, which caused her to smile happily. Toto saw that and his face softened a little.

“You’re really a good match, I see it now. But don’t let your personal life into work. You know I’m strictly against that.” Toto said with slight smile and went after other teammates.

She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“What did he want?” George asked with concern.

“He was surprised that we’re together and that he thought me and him are something more. I reminded him, that he has a wife and family.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m so proud of you.” He said with a teasing smirk.

She rolled her eyes at him.