#george cheering for dream

[lewkwoodnco]

LOCKWOOD & CO. Ep 6 - You Never Asked

[llitchilitchi]

// cw blood

a small panel from my next comic and damn, I think I peaked here

[belovedrm]

here. i live here. this is my happy place.

[fluffallamaful]

concept (irl):

dream tickling george and using football terms throughout his teasing, one’s that he purposelessly knows george won’t understand

i would give an example but i too don’t know football terms 😂 i just know that it’d get the adorable whiney “What dohoes thahat eheheh meheheaaaann?” protests from georgie 🥺

idk it’s just cute

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ Blue or Orange ? (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : lando norris x fem reader

summary : when the shimmer athlete meets the speed athlete

tw : fluff, a little chaos, suggestive

fc: Claire Wolford *she is so pretty-*

a/n : So this was requested anonymously, so if you are seeing this, Hope you like it 💫 AND before anyone jumps on me for using Daniel, it’s just one comment and the meme was started by him !!

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by victoriakalena, chandidayle, kelsey_w, landonorris and 87,290 others

ynwolford Thunderstrucked Vegas 💫✨

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user1 the dream life ✊🏻

user2 THUNDER!! TA DA DA THUNDER !!

victorikalena leader ay-aye 🫡

liked by ynwolford

chandidayle serving serious looks ma’am

ynwolford only for you 🫶🏻

user3 drop. the. freaking. skin. and. body. routine !!!

user4 oh to be her 😮‍💨😮‍💨

kelsey_w the look is perfect !!

liked by ynwolford

user5 I AM SEEING HER IN THE VEGAS MATCH

user6 EXCUSE ME !? - can you take me 🥺

user7 bleeding blue and white 💙🤍

user8 why is lando norris in her likes ?

user9 her boyfriend 💔 user10 WHAT-!? user10 POOKIE IS TAKEN 😭🥹 user11 who is he 😤 user12 a driver 👀 user13 * formula one driver

landonorris BEST SISTER EVER ❤️

ynwolford BEST BROTHER EVER ❤️ landonorris bro 😑 ynwolrford yo u started it landonorris you looked pretty babes 🧡❤️💙🤍 ynwolford ☺️

liked by landornorris, mclaren, chandidayle and 137,283 others

ynwolford blue and orange ? 💙🧡 @ mclaren

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mclaren the color combination for the next livery ?

ynwolford cowboy style 🤠🤍💙

landonorris maybe you could cheer for me in those shorts ? 👀

ynwolford stop it you thirsty shorty landornorris you did not - ynwolford my kicks are taller than you landonorris yet still you do the splits for me -

user1 you two, there are kids 😭

user2 where the hell did lando pop out from ?

user3 when did the couple comments become so active 😭

chandidayle Y/N, please behave, there are kids

user4 THANK YOU CHANDI

georgerussell Y/N, could you please get us passes for the match ?

ynwolford dw! Tickets for you, Oscar, Alex, Max and Charles are in my bag ✊🏻

landonorris last time I checked, I was the one who asked you out

ynwolford last time I checked, you always have no pass entry AS YOUR GIRLFRIEND is a DCC 💪🏻 landonorris oh.

user5 I missed the silent relationship comments

user6 they are entertaining tho-

liked by chandidayle, landonorris, kelsey_w and 162,319 others

ynwolford and after 4 years, the Pom-Poms take a rest 🤍💙🤍💙

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user1 WE WILL MISS YOU 😭

user2 genuinely one of the best dcc!!

kelsey_w can’t believe we were together through it all 💙

liked by ynwolford

dcccheerleaders once a DCC, always a DCC 💙🤠🤍

liked by ynwolford

landonorris I am so proud of you love 🫶🏻

ynwolford thank you 😭

user3 for once his comment was normal -

user4 no horny comments today

landonorris but I am sad I won’t see you in those shorts

user5 there we go ✊🏻

user6 the way y/n just ignored -

user7 lando and her are probably doing dirty

user8 STOP TALKING ABOUT THEIR NIGHT LIFE

user9 yes! This is a child account 😙

carlossainz55 A great end to your career 💪🏻

ynwolford unemployed besties 🫶🏻

user10 she did not -

carlossainz55 that hurt 😞

ynwolford reality hurts my dear Carlos landonorris Stop Calling Him “Dear” ynwolford Dear Carlos 🫶🏻 georgerussell hi 👋 ynwolford dear George 🫶🏻 alexalbon hi 👋 ynwolford dear Alex 🫶🏻 landonorris STOP 💔

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton, georgerussell and 128,271 others

ynwolford and after 2 years, orange is the best 🧡

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landnorris aw 🥺

landonorris cute 😤

landonorris pretty 😮‍💨

landonorris hot 🥵

landonorris mommy 😗

gerogerussell LANDO SHAVED HIS MOUSTACHE!?

ynwolford I asked him too 😌

alexalbon “ THIS MOUSTACHE IS MY BADGE OF HONOUR”

landonorris whatever the queen says 🤷🏻‍♂️

danielriccardio he doesn’t even grow pubes

ynwolford sadly, he does now 😔 landonorris HEY! cmon babe, you know you love it 👀 ynwolford the tree lando, not the jungle 🫷🏻

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[fastandcarlos]

Baby On The Cards : ̗̀➛ George Russell

summary: with so many children all around him, george can't help but wonder when one of his own might arrive. but are you on the same page as george is?

Your smile was wide as you waved goodbye to the young fan who had joined you in the Mercedes garage, watching as George led her away to where her parents waited before returning back to your side. “She was adorable,” George chuckled as he took a seat beside you. 

“I think you might have a new biggest fan.” 

“No way,” George shrugged, throwing his arm across your shoulders, keeping his eye on her as her family walked away. “There’s something about young kids when they shout out at me, I just can’t help but pay attention to them.” 

“That’s because you’re such a lovely driver,” you smiled, resting your head against George’s shoulder. “There’s a reason why so many kids love cheering you on.” 

George nodded as the two of you fell silent. His mind began clouded, staring down at the floor as he heard the yells of several other children across the paddock as they bumped into their favourite drivers. It was part of the job that George loved, he couldn’t get enough of interacting with young fans and making their dreams come true. 

“I’d love to know what skills you’ve got that make you so charming with kids,” you remarked. 

“I guess I just love spending time with them, that’s all.” 

“I can tell,” you noted, unable to deny how much George loved being around them. “I know you hate always having to say goodbye to them though, don’t you?” 

George nodded once again as he remained quiet, slightly lost in his own little world. Your eyes studied him closely, noticing just how lost in his thoughts he seemed to be, knowing exactly what was going on through George’s mind as you watched him too. 

There had been little secret made from George that he saw his future filled with children, and as he found himself getting older, and seeing some of his friends begin to settle down too, George couldn’t help but wonder when his own dreams would start to come true. 

After a few moments, your hand rested on George’s thigh to get his attention. “Do you want to tell me what’s suddenly got you looking as if you’re about to spiral into some deep thoughts?” 

George’s eyes flickered to look at you, “it’s no big deal, just having a bit of a daydream.” 

“George,” you softly spoke, sending a glare across at him. “I know you better than you know yourself, tell me what’s on your mind?” 

You could see him wondering, weighing up whether he wanted to open up to you or not. Out of the two of you, George was absolutely the one that voiced his desire to have children a lot more than you did, almost leaving him wondering sometimes whether you wanted it at all. 

“If you don’t talk to someone, you’re just going to be thinking about it in the car later,” you added, knowing the effects his thoughts had had on his performances before. 

“Let’s move on,” George suggested, trying to stand, only for you to pull him back again. “It’s not something that we need to talk about right now anyway.” 

Your head shook as George continued to speak, “you’re worrying me George, why does this feel like it’s something pretty important that’s bothering you?” 

“Because in the long run, it is,” he admitted, “and I don’t want to sit here and hear things I don’t want to hear.” 

You reached across and took a hold of George’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, silently asking him to open up to you. 

“I spend all this time with young children, but they’re not mine,” George finally confessed, “and I know it’s not an easy thing, but I guess I just can’t help but wonder what these days would be like if the children around me were mine.” 

Your smile turned up as George spoke, leaving him confused beside you. “You know, I think about those moments too and how cool they’ll be one day.” 

“You’ve thought about it?” George asked in surprise, his eyes going wide. “You’ve never really spoken about children, I thought they were something that you weren’t too interested in having.” 

Although you didn’t make it quite as well-known as George, a family with him was high on your list of priorities. When you watched him with all of the fans around the paddock, you couldn’t deny how heartwarming it was and how much you loved seeing the way he made so many of his young fans smile so wide.  

Your response sent a wave of relief over George, your response was completely unexpected for him, but unexpected in the best possible way. To hear you were on the same page as him was all that he had ever wanted. 

“I think about it a lot,” you smiled, “I think it’s only natural to think about these things with where we are now.” 

“But you’ve never told me.” 

Your smile was soft as George shifted so that he was sat facing you. “It feels like it’s an expectation to have a family now, but I want to do all of this in our own time, not when people constantly pester and want to know when we’re settling down.” 

“I get it, the questions are constant sometimes,” George agreed, “I’ve never made you feel like there’s a pressure for us to have children, have I?” 

“No, no way. I know it’s a huge dream for you George.” 

“I guess part of me has always worried about how we’d ever make it work,” you confessed, glancing down to the floor. “You’re hardly ever home and I would never be able to do it by myself.” 

It was George’s turn to take a hold of your hand as he noticed the panic in your voice. “We’d make it work, whatever sacrifices I’d need to make when it comes down to it, I’d absolutely do it.” 

“You make it sound so easy,” you chuckled, “as if you could just walk away from a race and say you’re not doing it that weekend.” 

“Why not? The race would never be my priority.” 

“Racing is your life George,” you reminded him. 

His head shook as you spoke, “racing is my job, but my family is my life. You, everyone back at home, and any future additions that we might welcome into our family. You know that nothing else would ever come before all of that.” 

George had worked hard to make sure that you were the most important thing in his life, to make sure that you were looked after and make sure that you had all of the things that you needed to live as comfortably as possible. 

“I’m not saying that we should have a baby tomorrow George, there’s a lot we need to think about, but I definitely think there might be one, or maybe more, in our future,” you told him, watching his eyes light up. 

“That’s all that I’ve ever wanted to hear,” he responded, offering you a wide smile. “It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks about how our future plans out, the only people that matter are the two of us.” 

You hummed in agreement with him, “throughout all of this, however long it takes us to one day settle down, we’re a team, always.” 

George leant forwards and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “whatever we do, we agree to do it together.” 

“Exactly, and hopefully one day we’ll be able to be mum and dad.” 

“And have baby Russell?” 

“Yes George,” you laughed, shaking your head at his enthusiasm. The excitement in his voice unlike anything that you had ever heard from George before.  

“I’m so happy we had this conversation,” he added, “you have no idea how much you’ve just eased my mind.” 

“See,” you sniggered, “all you had to do was talk to me.” 

“You’re right, as painful as it is to admit it.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[moviecritc]

after midnight ⋆ lestappen

pairing: lestappen x driver!reader

summary: charles doesn't want to accept that he has feelings for both of max and you

word count: 1.8K

warnings: making out, grope? (idk how to saying in english, but in spanish would be meter mano o manosear)

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

part 1 | part 2

Max and Y/N had once again achieved a 1-2, it was the third consecutive race they had achieved this result.

Everyone was cheering their names, and then there was Charles. He had managed to finish third because George DNF'd on the last lap and he took his place in the race.

Charles had always felt a mixture of envy and admiration for the Red Bull duo.

Envy for their driving style and tactics to win all the races and admiration for their personalities. Max stood out simply for being himself, calculating and fierce both on and off the track, his blue eyes sent shivers down Charles' spine. Even more so when he saw him without the fireproofs.

Y/N was slighty warmer than him, but still he feared her, with a somewhat rebellious driving style, Y/N had won the championship last year and was fighting for her second. She was much more open than Max and she was the one who humanized the team, separating her person from her race number very well. Most of the time she was Y/N L/N, when she got into the car she was simply the 1. It was impossible not to fall in love with her, from the moment she joined the competition she had become the girl of the paddock, the representative of all women in motorsport, and she wore it with pride. She has collaborated to form the F1 Academy, has financed dozens of girls to make a place for themselves in the sport and now she was forming her own F1 Academy team with Rare Beauty as a collaborator. She was an ambitious, determined, and also beautiful woman, Charles had found it impossible to resist her.

The most surprising thing was how well Max and Y/N got along off the track, they lived relatively close in Monaco and there had been several times when they had been seen having dinner together. Most of the people said they only had common friends, a few said there was something more than friendship.

The chemistry was undeniable, Y/N brought out the best side of Max in interviews and Max knew how to stop Y/N when she talked too much.

Charles knew the podium was going to be uncomfortable, Max and Y/N celebrating their victories and pouring champagne on each other, and Charles just being there, knowing that neither of them cared at all about his P3.

Surprisingly, Y/N approached him and patted him on the shoulder as she congratulated him, but immediately Max once again drew all of Y/N's attention by soaking her with champagne. Charles drank from his bottle as he watched Max half-kneeling and Y/N pouring champagne from her bottle into his mouth.

That scene caused Charles a strange sensation. Seeing Max like that, slightly kneeling with his hair and suit dampened by a mixture of alcohol and sweat. Y/N with the glow of victory in her eyes and her suit adapting to the curves of her body.

There was something so sexual about that scene that it overwhelmed Charles. His attraction to Y/N he had assimilated, with just a couple of words he knew she would be the woman of his dreams. The problem was that when he was with Max that feeling doubled. The idea of ​​not being a spectator anymore and being with both of them made his heart race.

After finishing all the interviews, Y/N approached Charles. "Hey, we're going to get a drink, wanna come?"

Charles blinked. "Me?"

He pointed to himself, surprised by the invitation and interaction. In all those years he had hardly ever spoken to Y/N, except for business matters, which made her even more ethereal.

Y/N laughed in a natural way and brushed her hair away from her face. "Sure. Max and I usually have a drink with whoever comes third, and today it was you." By the way she said it, it seemed like it was already a routine. "So? Do you feel like it?"

"Uh, yes, yes. I'd love to," he nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

"Great!" she said with a smile. Charles was impressed by her constant naturalness. "We'll get dressed up and then see you at the club."

Y/N gave him a squeeze on the shoulder and left the paddock with Max, who had been present throughout the conversation from a prudent distance.

At the after-party - for lack of a better term - there were many people from Red Bull, too many, and Charles felt like an intruder. He locked eyes with Y/N, who gestured to him as soon as she saw him. She was at a table almost in the center of the place with Max, some friends, and Lando Norris. That guy was always everywhere.

"Charles! Come here, come on. What do you want to drink?" exclaimed Y/N.

Charles approached, somewhat impressed by all of this. Y/N made room for him next to her and instead of fist-bumping, she gave him two kisses. Max, on the other hand, stretched his arm over Y/N to greet him and then left his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to his chest. Y/N didn't mind.

"P3, huh? That was very good," commented Max.

Y/N groaned immediately. "We always talk about races, let's talk about something interesting."

"Isn't Formula interesting?" Max spoke, tilting his head.

"Not with you," said Y/N.

They all laughed and Max made a face.

Y/N once again focused all her attention on Charles, he noticed how Y/N's heel was circling around his calf.

"What about your love life, Charlie?" she asked, without hesitation.

The nickname caught Charles off guard, and even more so the question. If she was asking, it was because she cared.

Max clicked his tongue, telling him he didn't have to answer.

How was Charles going to explain that every time he had felt some sexual desire it had been because of her and her teammate? "Boring," he ended up saying, with a slight frown.

"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed, almost disappointed. "How can it be boring? You're too handsome for your love life to be boring."

Charles lowered his gaze with a silly smile, noticing that Max hadn't stopped looking at him, as if he too were expectant of the answer.

"Don't listen to her, Charles. She rambles when she's drunk," commented Max, rolling his eyes a bit.

"And you get a thousand times more boring when you drink," Y/N gave Max a pat on the thigh, too close to the crotch for some to think.

Y/N drank from Max's gin and tonic and relaxed against his chest because no one was starting a conversation. She quickly got bored and looked at Max with a pout. "Will you dance with me?"

"No," he replied immediately.

"You asshole," Y/N wasted no time. "Charles?"

Charles looked up from his drink. "Huh?"

"Let's dance," she didn't even ask, she got up and pulled Charles' arm while flipping Max off before heading to the dance floor.

Charles knew she had only pulled him to dance to mess with Max, but that moment was like living a fever dream. The music hardly had any lyrics, it was pure beats on instruments. Y/N pressed her body against his in time with the music, so much so that sometimes it seemed like she was rubbing against him.

"You have beautiful eyes, Charlie," Y/N said, getting close to his ear so much that he could almost hear her saliva. She put an arm over his shoulder and kept dancing.

"Thank you," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

Their faces were getting closer and closer, while both could feel Max's gaze on them. When their noses brushed, it was Y/N who stopped, looking at him for a few seconds. She removed her arm from Charles's shoulder and bit her lip, as if she were nervous.

"Hold on, I have to talk to Max," she declared, before leaving the dance floor, leaving Charles stranded and confused.

He returned to the table, not knowing what had happened, but Max and YN were no longer sitting there. Lando pointed in the direction they had gone. He found them leaning against the door of what seemed to be a private room in the club; for a moment, he thought they were arguing because of the tone of their voices, but as he listened to the conversation, he began to feel chills.

"You like him too," Y/N insisted. "Deny it. Deny that it doesn't turn you on when you see him in the fireproofs."

"Damn, yes. But it doesn't matter, I've already told you he won't want to," Max grumbled, with a distressed expression.

"You don't know that," Y/N clenched her jaw.

"He's very uptight, and insecure."

Those two words echoed in Charles's head. Insecure… he knew he was, but he hadn't realized until now that other people might notice it.

"Max, I really want him," Y/N complained. "Just imagining him watching us fuck already turns me on, imagine with us in bed." She pressed herself against Max's chest, with a grimace.

Charles felt an instant satisfaction knowing that they also fantasized about him, at least he wasn't the only weird one. He thought about the possibilities of joining the conversation, or just letting them know he was there.

"Are you Charles Leclerc? Can we take a photo?"

Before Charles could react, Y/N and Max peeked their faces around the door, her with a little smile and him slightly nervous. It was an awkward moment while the fan took the photo, but when he left, both Max and Y/N were looking at him with crossed arms and feline eyes.

"How long have you been there?" Max questioned, raising his eyebrows. He thought his friendship with Charles was going to become quite awkward after that.

Charles didn't waste time. "I… I want to,"

Max and Y/N looked at each other, with a devilish smile.

"Really?" confirmed Max.

"Yes,"

Max didn't need anything else to pull him into the room and close the door behind them. Surprisingly, Charles and he were the first to kiss while Y/N watched them. Then Y/N attacked Charles's lips at the same time as Max left marks on his girlfriend's neck. Being in the middle of the two was too much for her; having so many hands on her made her messy. Eager for more, she pulled Charles's hand towards her inner thigh. He stopped at that exact moment.

A feeling of guilt, almost shame, overwhelmed him. The other two noticed it and stopped as well. "Is something wrong?" Y/N placed her hand on Charles's thigh, but that only made him stand up as soon as he felt the contact.

"I can't…" Charles didn't finish the sentence. "I better go."

[drvscarlett]

Let him cook

Charles Leclerc x Masterchef contestant!reader

Series Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

A/N: Got this idea because the masterchef trophy is similar to the Australian GP trophy. This is going to be a series

Charles_Leclerc posted a new photo

liked by CarlosSainz55, PierreGasly, and 365,000 others.

Charles_Leclerc Add professional chef to the list

User1 aint no way you cooked this

User2 nice try Charles but we all saw that pasta video

CarlosSainz55 mate drop the # of the private chef you hired, these look delicious

Charles_Leclerc I told you that I made this myself CarlosSainz55 Lies!!!!

PierreGasly since when did you learn how to make coq au vin???

Charles_Leclerc not you too PierreGasly you should invite me sometimes so I can judge your cooking

Y/NCooks posted a photo

YNCooks last date night before i enter masterchef australia. credits to the boyfriend for the lovely photos

Friend1 Y/N i know this is your dream for a while now. I hope you win. We will cheer for you our next masterchef australia!

YNCooks awww stop! ur making me cry

User1 OMG she is finally competing, goodluck Y/N!

User2 Y/N always talk about how its her dream to enter masterchef, I'm gonna watch it everyday and hope she wins it!

User3 Goodluck Y/N! I hope you become the next masterchef australia!!!

Mystery Box challenge episode

There was a building reputation in the kitchen that you are one of the strong homecooks of the season. After winning the past 2 mystery challenges, you were extremely determined to do well and seek for a third streak. The mystery box today was all about italian cooking, a cuisine that you have been comfortable due to the close ties of your boyfriend being signed to an Italian team.

"And what do we have here with you today Miss Y/N" Matt Preston asked as he approached the work table together with George Colambris "You seem rather comfortable and in your own zone. Its like an ordinary Tuesday date night"

You gave a small chuckle with that mention "That's actually pretty on point of you to say as Tuesday is my date night with the boyfriend"

"Ah so maybe that's why you are so inspired because you are in love"George teased.

"Well I have to admit that there is a little pressure to do well in this challenge or my boyfriend's family will get mad at me"you quipped back a reply.

The judges suddenly leaned a little interested to learn more about your personal life, "So your boyfriend is italian?"

"He is not but he might as well be. He spends a lot of time there"

"It must be hard to not see him a lot since you are here competing" Matt says

"It's a price we are willing to pay. He has been supportive of my dream as I am with him" you gave an encouraging smile as you continue to chop the sweet potatoes.

"We hope to meet that boyfriend of yours because he is one lucky man because that dish looks delicious!" George says before they left the station.

Somewhere in Bahrain, Charles Leclerc is grinning upon watching the replay of the episode. He was beyond proud of what you have achieved as a contestant in MasterChef. He wished that he could do more to express his support towards you but you have an agreement with him to keep things lowkey for the meantime. It was a reasonable decision as he didn't want to overshadow your career but it was nice to know that you two are a private thing but never a secret.

He was so engrossed to repeating the boyfriend clip that he didn't notice that Carlos snuck up beside him.

"What are you watching there?" Carlos asked his teammate

"Oh its nothing" Charles says as he immediately exited the Youtube app "I didn't notice you there, you scared me"

"If you weren't too into your phone then you would have noticed me calling you" Carlos explained "What are you watching on your phone that got you smiling like that?"

"Nothing, I just saw an ad"

"Hmm sure an ad" Carlos was pretty sure that Charles was watching MasterChef but he couldn't care anymore to ask which country because there was too many so he decided to just let it go "Cmon Fred is asking for us, were late for a meeting"

"Carlos! Why didn't you start with that?"

Cake challenge

You were exhausted because you spent the early hours of the morning watching the Jeddah GP. It was a thrilling race to see Charles bag his first podium of the season so you can say that its worth it. Besides, you were able to talk to him after the race so it sweetens the deal even more.

Filming begun for MasterChef and the judges brought out balloons for the mystery box challenge.

"Your challenge today is to make the most imaginative and creative birthday cake that you ever had" Gary explained "The pantry is filled with all the cake flavors you can ever imagine so be creative and show us what you've got"

Baking has never been your strongest suit. It was all about precision and measurements as small increments can make a huge difference. Today, you were determined to do well and you wanted to use the podium finish of Charles for the cake.

It was a struggle to bake the cake, cool it, and pipe it in under 60 minutes. You felt the pressure getting under your nerves as your hands started shaking when you were piping the cake details with 10 minutes left. There was a sigh of relief when you finished just 5 seconds away from the judges calling the time.

There were plenty of beautiful cakes in the room so it was a shocker for you that the judges called you in front to present your cake.

"Judges what I have for you today is a three layer cake with the raspberry,almond, and pistachio with chocolate to seperate the layers and a lemon buttercream frosting."

"You told us you can't bake, that seems like a lie" George says as he cuts through the cake "Look at that layers"

"The layers are actually inspired by the italian flag, its an homage to the boyfriend. Its actually a cake that I made thinking about him" you explained.

"That is simply gorgeous. The cake is very moist and the balance with the flavors is that its not too sweet or nothing overpowering. Your boyfriend is a lucky lucky lucky man to be baked a cake like this" George complimented.

"Does your boyfriend cook?"Matt asked as he took a bite

"Oh God no. I have to cook or else the kitchen will be on fire"you laughed "But I can't drive so maybe that's his payback"

"You seem to show the beautiful dynamics of your relationship when you cook something inspired by him. I wish you two the best" Matt's genuine comment was a heartwarming moment.

Its unfortunate that you didn't win this challenge but you were able to showcase your support for your boyfriend.

Melbourne GP meets MasterChef

This was another challenge as you were elected as a team captain for the second team challenge. You were extremely nervous when you were transported with your team mates from the blue kitchen to an unknown location. It was even more nerve-wracking after you've realized where you are.

"Welcome to the Albert Park where the Australian Grand Prix is underway for this weekend" Matt introduced "Your challenge is to prepare two dishes: a pasta and a fish dish to be served to the talented drivers in Formula 2"

There was a little sigh of relief as you were dealing with the Formula 2 drivers. It was a lot of weight on the shoulder if you will be serving food to your boyfriend.

"The practice sessions will be starting in a few minutes. You have 90 minutes to prepare your dish and an hour to serve them"

All you know was that you started organizing the team to put them in charge of the dishes that you will be making today. You cross your fingers that the color red brings luck to your team today.

Meanwhile, the paddock was buzzing with cameras and Charles immediately noticed that there were some new film crews around the Formula 2 drivers. His eyes did a double take after he recognized the face of three familiar judges he often sees on MasterChef Australia.

"What's going on? Isn't that MasterChef Australia judges?" Charles quizzed

"That's MasterChef Australia, they have this team challenges and they will be feeding the Formula 2 drivers" Silvia answered as she was informed earlier that morning about the extra exposure in the paddock today.

"Why Formula 2? Why not us?" Charles whined

"If you want then you could go ask Ollie for food" Silvia suggested

That sets a lightbulb moment for Charles as he excused himself to talk to the young driver. He will not miss the opportunity to taste the cooking of his secret girlfriend and support her in doing her craft.

It puzzled Ollie Bearman to see that Charles has been looking for him once the practice session was over. He was even more confused by his request.

"So you want me to get you food?" Ollie asked "Doesn't Ferrari have a catering?"

"Its not just food, its the MasterChef Australia food" Charles explained without giving out too much information "I just love the show okay?"

"You can come along, I'm sure they don't mind" Even better.

So here is why you were genuinely surprised to see that Charles Leclerc is walking inside the MasterChef tent with a red and blue plate in his hand. He was grinning wildly as if he was a kid on a sugar rush.

"Ohmygod we are serving food to Charles Leclerc!" one of your teammates whispered.

"Hi goodafternoon! What's the dish for today?" he asked politely.

"Well we have a pan fried cod with a pea puree and then some green grapes some fennel over there and then for the pasta lemon ricotta and beet tortellini" you answered as the team captain "We hope that its up your liking"

Charles gave you that smile that seems to light up the whole room, "I look forward to it, thanks!"

Its moments like this that you wish that you could reach out for him but you understand that its not yet the time. Its nice to see the support that you have for each other even though its all in private and away from the eyes of the media.

"Goodluck on your race Charles!"

There was a smile on both of your faces as you both continued to go chase your dreams.

[requiemforthepoets]

paper crown of silver and gold 𖦹 CL16

leclerc!sister smau - part of the leclerc!reader series

SUMMARY: finally, it was your olympic debut—the one that you had been waiting for all your life. you had never expected that you’ll be advancing to the finals, battling for gold.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: my girl maxine was not able to move forward in the olympics, i’m hoping that she’ll compete again in 2028! the reader here (you) won, so just go with it lololol for the plot! i hope you’ll enjoy this one! :)

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect to the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: none

FACE CLAIM: maxine esteban + others that are found on pinterest. some are taken also from lee kiefer’s (another fav fencer of mine) ig posts.

ynleclerc

liked by pascale.leclerc.355, charles_leclerc, landonorris, lilyzneimer and 546,837 others

ynleclerc PARIS!! I’m ready for you! 🇫🇷

view all 10,837 comments

arthur_leclerc GO FOR GOLD!! 🥇🇲🇨 ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc already planning on it! 🫡 ♡ liked by arthur_leclerc

charles_leclerc we’ll see you in paris soon! gonna be bringing the gang with me! 🤩 ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc pls lay off on the embarrassing signs 😁

charles_leclerc no promises, mon soeur

ynleclerc i’m telling maman 😤

charles_leclerc she couldn’t even stop me 😎

username1 Y/N OLYMPIC DEBUT LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO

landonorris WHAT ARE THOOOOOOSE! I’ll see you in Paris, loser ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc i don’t accept any crocs slander in this household, norris. blocked!!!

landonorris I WAS JUST KIDDING 😔 pls don’t block me, you look very cute though

ynleclerc ikr

landonorris 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

charles_leclerc 🤨

username2 y/n is going to win gold, i can feel it

username3 to those people who’s hating on her just bc she transferred nationality, it’s on sight

pascale.leclerc.355 Mon Ange, I’ll see you in Paris, okay? Je vous aime 😘 ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc yes maman!! love you!! 🫶🏻

username4 MY OLYMPIAN!!!

lilyzneimer can’t wait to watch you in action!! ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc 🥺🥺🥺

username15 MOTHER COMING FOR THE GOLD 👏🏻

ynleclerc just posted a story!

viewed by 457,827 people

lilymhe I WONT BE ABLE TO COME BUT IM WITH YOU IN SPIRIT ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc 😭😭😭 it’s okay!! i know that you be cheering for me :’)

lilymhe damn right i am 😤

ynleclerc OENDJSKS i love you!!

lilymhe I LOVE YOU TOO!!

lilymhe NOW GO WIN THAT GOLD, SUPERSTAR!

ynleclerc YES MA’AM! 🫡

lilymhe let’s spend a day together once olympics is over!!!

ynleclerc OMG YES

username5 GOOD LUCK QUEEN!

username6 I LOVE YOU

georgerussell Best of luck, y/n! ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc thank you, georgie!

carmenmmundt Goodluck, y/n! We’ll be cheering you on, go for gold! ❤️ ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc carmen!! thank youuu 🥺❤️ you won’t be coming to paris?

carmenmmundt unfortunately, we won’t be able to come to your match on time 😢 but George and I will see you soon! Love you!! ❤️

ynleclerc okay, love you too!! ❤️

teammonaco

liked by ynleclerc, charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 23,839 others

tagged: ynleclerc

teammonaco Thrilled to announce that ynleclerc has made it to the finals for the Women’s Individual Foil at the Paris 2024 Olympics! Let’s cheer her on as she aims for gold! 🤺🥇🇲🇨

view all 9,937 comments

You have been waiting for this for a long time—some minor setbacks and emotional turmoil that you went through to get here was a testament of hard work. It has always been your life long dream of competing in the olympics and to represent Monaco on a global scale. Now that you have been given a shot in advancing to the finals and have a big chance of winning the gold, there is no holding you back from getting that gold, it is what you had been training for, and what you’ll continue training for in the coming years.

The Grand Palais had been transformed into a dazzling stage for the 2024 Olympics’ fencing competition. As you stood backstage, you can’t help but feel some nervousness bubbling inside of you. By just being stood behind the screens, you can feel the air of excitement as the crowd buzzed, eagerly waiting for your entrance.

Today for the finals, you are up against an old teammate from the Italian team, Sofia Rossi. You are good friends with her, but there’s just something about Sofia when she’s on the piste, she would sometimes get a little bit aggressive with her tactics when things are not going her way. So this made you a little bit nervous, but you kept a postive mind.

In the midst of of the charged atmosphere, the spotlight shifted to the entrance where you’ll be coming in, and the screen by the entrance had flashed your photo and the Monaco flag, causing the audience to erupt into cheers as the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, introducing you to the world.

“Ladies and gentlemen, representing Monaco, Y/N Leclerc!”

A wave of cheers and applause surged through the Grand Palais as you confidently stepped onto the piste. Clad in your fencing gear, with your foil clutched in your right hand. The crowd’s cheers grew louder as they caught sight of the Monaco flag on your breeches, a symbol of your new allegiance.

Glancing over at the stands where your support team was seated. Charles, Arthur, Lorenzo, and Pascale were all seated on the front, their faces beaming with pride, not missing how Charles had hollered together with Arthur, while Lorenzo and Pascale laughed at their silliness. Your close friends were also in attendance, Lando, Oscar, and Lily—who all waved at you enthusiastically, their support evident even from the distance by waving the obnoxious sign that they made. This had made you smile, it was F1’s summer break and they decided to come to support you on the first week of their vacation.

You made your way to your side of the piste, attaching the body cord and your coach bringing you your bag, grabbing your mask where it has been painted with the Monaco flag on it. The referee had signaled that the match is about to start, and give your coach a fist bump.

“You can do it. Just remember all your training, okay?” He reminded you and nodded at him.

The match had finally began, and it was intense, both you and Sofia are displaying remarkable skill and agility. Given with her aggressive tactics, she tried to catch you off guard with a low attack, but your reflexes were lightning fast and this is where your quick feet would come into play. As she lunged from below, you were able to leap away from her foil and managed to stretch out your arms so that you can touch her from the back, and this caused the crowd to gasp in awe at precision of the move—a remarkable display of tactical brilliance.

As the clock ticks down, you both are aiming to get fifteen points—locked in a fierce exchange of attacks and parries. Sofia’s attempt to close the distance, you performed a split to score a point, where you had managed to touch her torso with the tip of your foil despite her defensive stance.

With every touch, you could feel the excitement and pressure mounting. The final point ended up being yours, as the referee raised his hand signaling your victory, everyone in the arena erupted in cheers. You quickly removed your mask, tears are streaming down your face as you let out a triumphant scream—emotions are raw and the moment was palpable.

Sofia immediately hugged you and you hugged her back, congratulating her as well for winning silver. The moment you removed your body cord, your coach, family and friends rushed towards you, engulfing you in a hug. Grabbing the Monaco flag from your coach, you waved it high and proud as they lift you up in the air. Monaco had won its first Olympic gold, and you had been the one to make it happen.

The commentators were visibly moved and praised your performance with a heartfelt commentary.

“Unbelievable scenes here at the Paris 2024 Olympics as we witness a historic moment in fencing! Y/N Leclerc has secured the gold medal in the Women’s Individual Foil Finals, marking it the first-ever Olympic gold for Monaco! What an extraordinary display of perfomance from Leclerc. With incredible skill, precision and sheer determination, she had carved her name into Olympic history. The final bout was nothing short of a masterclass. The crowd is on their feet, and the emotions are high! This victory does not only brings home the gold but also writes a new chapter in Monaco’s Olympic legacy. It’s a moment of national pride and jubilation, and what a way to make history. Congratulations to Y/N Leclerc—you’ve made not only us proud, but you made the whole Monaco proud!”

As the crowd’s cheers and applause continued to echo through the Grand Palais, you soaked in the glory of your victory. It was a dream realized, a testament to your hard work and dedication. Little you would be very proud that you had achieved an incredible feat in your journey.

ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, lilyzneimer, lilymhe and 873,648 others

ynleclerc man, i love winning for the haters 🥰 mandatory pic of the gold with the eiffel tower! 🇫🇷

view 74,658 comments

lilymhe THATS MY GIRL!!!! CONGRATS ON WINNING GOLD OMG 😭❤️ ♡ liked by ynleclerc

username7 OUR FENCING QUEEN

username8 how does it feel that she bagged the gold against your fav team 😘 haterusername1

haterusername1 whatever, rossi should’ve won this one 🙄 team italia is still much better

username9 haterusername1 stfu, stop spreading this kind of shit when you know damn well that she’s still very much good friends with her previous team. such a bitter ass that you are omg

haterusername2 she just got lucky lmao she’s not even that good 🙄

username9 haterusername2 no, stfu. she won fair and square, she won bc of her TALENT. you need to shut up honestly, being bitter gets you nowhere, loser!!!!

username10 OUH MISSMAAM THE CAPTION 😮‍💨

scuderiaferrari FORZA Y/N! ❤️ ♡ liked by ynleclerc

oscarpiastri a well deserved win! ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc thanks, osc!! 🥺

lilyzneimer that’s my best friend everyone!! ❤️ ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc 🤩🤩🤩

alexandrasaintmleux you.are.amazing!!!!! ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc ALEX!!! Thank you, thank you!! 🥺 missed you at the match ☹️

alexandrasaintmleux don’t worry, as soon as you get back in monaco, we’ll be celebrating! ❤️

georgerussell63 Well done, y/n! You had Carmen and I on the edge of our seat during the match! ♡ liked by ynleclerc

charles_leclerc THAT’S OUR GIRL!!! OUR OLYMPIAN!!! Can’t wait for the next summer olympics to defend your gold title 🤩 ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc the next olympic is still far away, charles…you need to calm down 😭 wdym defend…i’m 😭 pls calm down 😭 i love you, but calm down 😭😭😭😭

landonorris TIME TO PARTY!!! 🥳🎉 ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc as my head of victory party committee, you may now proceed

oscarpiastri this might not end well…

ynleclerc now that osc mentioned it…lando pls keep it pg 🥹

landonorris i’ll try my best 🤪

ynleclerc lando…🥹🥹🥹

username11 what a great time to be alive

username12 y/n winning the gold and becoming a gold medalist in olympics…you’re never gonna hear the end of me people!! PREPARE TO BE SICK OF ME 🗣️

username13 are you sure you don’t want to become an f1 driver, queen? your reflexes are INSANE yo ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc i’m good with fencing! 🤣 my brothers can handle being an f1 driver on their own, we don’t need another leclerc in f1! 🤣🤣🤣

username13 ODKFMDKJSJS I LOVE YOU 😭 CONGRATULATIONS ON WINNING GOLD!!! 😭

lewishamilton Congratulations, y/n! What a phenomal win! ❤️ ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc thank you so much, lewis! 🥺

username14 a legend, an icon, the greatest of all time!

twitter posts

ynleclerc and time

liked by ynleclerc, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, carmenmmundt and 24,839 others

tagged: ynleclerc

time “Y/N Leclerc is not laying down her sword anytime soon”

“In a breathtaking display of skill and determination, y/n has made history at the Paris 2024 Olympics by winning the first-ever gold medal for Monaco in the Women’s Individual Foil Fencing. This remarkable achievement not only places y/n at the pinnacle of her sport but also highlights Monaco’s growing presence on the global athletic stage.” writes lucyfeld. “Her journey to this moment has been marked by relentless training, unwavering focus, and an unyielding commitment to excellence.”

“With the national flag waving proudly behind her and the gold medal around her neck, y/n stood as a beacon of inspiration and excellence. Her victory at the Paris 2024 Olympics is not just a moment of personal triumph but a milestone for her country’s sporting legacy, paving the way for future generations to follow in her footsteps.”

Read the full essay in our bio.

Photograph by Hannah Peters—Getty Images.

view 12,838 comments

ynleclerc thank you so much for having me. it was such a pleasure ❤️

ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, pascale.leclerc.355, lilymhe, landonorris and 347,839 others

tagged: time

ynleclerc thank you so much for the wonderful opportunity, time ❤️ also, a little surprise…i’ll be this month’s issue cover!! how cool is that?! for the meantime, you can read the essay—link is on my bio!

comments on this post has been limited

[russellbby]

There's always pressure || Pt.4

parings: charles leclerc x sister!f2 driver!reader, arthur leclerc x sister!f2 driver!reader

in which: y/n leclerc makes history, while the leclerc family can only watch her celebrate..

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

taglist: @edgyficuselastica @zulema222 @samantharaytanner

a/n: Part 5 is in the making and will be the final part of this mini-series!

//

"From being a rookie at the beginning of the season to formula 2 world champion at the end!"

"Y/N LECLERC CROSSES THE LINE AND HISTORY IS MADE!"

"What an end to an incredible season, congratulations to Y/n and Prema Racing!"

“You’ve done it Y/n, world champion!!”

“Ahhhh!!!! Let’s go team, thank you all so much!! Oh wow, what an incredible season this has been, world champion guys!! C’mon!! Wooohooo!!”

//

When Y/n parked her car in the P1 spot, she stayed there for a few minutes before eventually getting out. She stood on the front of the car in celebration before jumping down and running to her team.

“Y/n! You did it!” Ollie shouted as the pair hugged tightly.

“World champion!!” Kimi called as he joined the pair hugging.

“Thanks guys!!” Y/n giggled before taking her helmet and balaclava off.

After Y/n got weighed and had a sip of water, she made her way over to Susie, who pulled her into a tight embrace.

“You shown today that it is possible for girls who have the same dream as you, welcome to the history books. You deserve this so much, sweetheart” Susie told her.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, I wouldn’t be in this position without you” Y/n replied before hugging Toto who congratulated her.

“Proud of you kiddo,” Lewis said as he hugged her tightly.

“Welcome to the club of F2 champions, Y/n!” George added as he and Carmen hugged the young girl after she left Lewis’s embrace.

Y/n greeted all the other Mercedes team that had come to watch her, then did her post race interview before making her way into the cool-down room.

After some time, she was stood on the top spot of the podium listening to the Monaco anthem being played, lifting the championship trophy in the air and getting sprayed with champagne.

In the crown below the podium, she saw the familiar faces of her family watching her..

//

y/n_leclerc

Liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55 and 1,139,937 others

y/n_leclerc: We done it!!! F2 WORLD CHAMPION!!❤️

I can’t thank everyone enough at @prema_racing, what a season it has been for us! Sadly, this is where I say goodbye and where we part ways with our journey together. I’ve been apart of your team since F4, it’s been a crazy few years but I’m so thankful and proud of what we all achieved together, I’ll definitely miss it but thank you all for everything!!

Susie, Toto, Lewis, George and everyone else at @ mercedesamgf1, thank you all for being in the crowd today and cheering me on! Ever since I joined the junior team you guys have been so helpful, supportive and I have learnt so much from you all. Thank you guys, I really do appreciate everything and hopefully you’ll see me more in the garage next year!!

Papa, you weren’t here in person today but you were my biggest cheerleader ever since I started karting and I hope I made you proud today❤️🕊️

view all 30,639 comments

username Congrats Y/n!! Fully deserve it!!💗

username Awh, Y/n & Prema era is over💔

username Anyone else see that the Leclerc family were watching her on the podium?! Like now they decide to turn up?!

prema_racing Our World Champ🙌 Thank you for all the memories Y/n, we will miss you kid!!❤️

username We loved Y/n in her Prema era!!

username Her family only turned up right at the end💀

username Y/n to Mercedes?👀

lewishamilton Proud of you kiddo, history was made today and you fully deserve it❤️

username Awh, I love Y/n and Lewis!!

username The fact that Lewis is Charles’s teammate next year yet he has a better relationship with his sister than he does😭

mercedesamgf1 We will always be there when others can’t. Congrats World Champ!❤️

username ^ I see what you did there admin💀

username The fact that her family only turned towards the end of the podium celebrations..

olliebearman World Champ!!🏆🥳

kimi.antonelli CONGRATS Y/N!!!🥳

username I can’t believe she’s only 17, crazy!!

username Ollie, Kimi & Y/n fav trio💗

username Y/n to replace Lewis!!

georgerussell63 Congrats kid, fully deserved!

carmenmmundt Proud on you💗

username George and Carmen are literally Y/n parents, it’s co cute how they have taken her under their wing!!

username I love how many of the Mercedes team were there for her today❤️

//

“Y/n?”

Y/n knew instantly who that voice was, she turned around to be greeted by her family in front of her. She hugged Charlotte, Alex and Jade as at the end of the day the three of them didn’t do anything.

“Yes? You need anything? I was just about to leave,” Y/n said.

“Congrats on the championship, you deserve it” Arthur told her.

“Oh, now I deserve it do I?” Y/n retorted.

“I know you only seen us at the end, but we did watch it on the tv” Pascale said.

“But none of you weren’t here in person, maman! Do you know how much this moment meant to me? It’s the biggest race in my career and none of you were there!

Look, I know what happened yesterday was intense but I couldn’t hold it in anymore. But I didn’t think you guys wouldn’t come to my race as you knew how important this meant to me. I can’t accept any apology from you, it really hurt me that you weren’t there today despite what happened yesterday..” Y/n told them.

“We knew that we shouldn’t have let what happened yesterday get to us, we are so sorry that we didn’t come today..” Lorenzo replied.

“Just come to the hospitality before my race? We just want to make it up to you” Charles said.

“Please petite sœur,” Arthur added but Y/n stayed quiet.

“Chéri?” Pascale questioned.

“Fine, I’ll see you there” Y/n told them after some silence before leaving towards her garage.

[emeritusemeritus]

Fred Weasley headcanons

Just a few personal headcanons for our man, NSFW under the cut 🌹

SFW ✨

Still considers you his best friend even though you’re together now (you and George being tied in first place).

Calls you princess and sweetheart (both of which started as sarcastic remarks that stuck around and are now used as endearments).

Always ready to kiss you. Doesn’t care who’s around, once he can be open about your relationship he’ll kiss you anywhere, and passionately - except for in front of his mother.

Actual menace at school. You’re walking to your next class and you pass him in the halls? He lifts you up and spins you, shouts out your name across crowded, echoing corridors to embarrass you. One time he lifted you up onto the stone pillars outside charms and left you there. You had to wait to be rescued by Ron who was luckily passing by.

You tease each other constantly, bantering back and forth. He’s heard more ginger jokes from you than anyone else in his life, but he knows just how much you love him and his red hair so there is never any malice behind it, the same with his teasing of you. It all comes from a place of love and familiarity.

He’s a natural prankster and takes great pride in it but he knows your limits and would never intentionally cross them. One time he did inadvertently go too far and he’s apologised profusely and had been torn up about it, trying to win back your trust in anyway he could. George still says that it’s the only time he’d seen Fred be actually remorseful in his life.

Throws notes to you in study hall, usually by scrunching up large balls of parchment and throwing them directly at you, bonus points if he manages to bounce them off of your head. Always followed by a sickly sweet smile or a wink.

As much as he teases you, he’s the only one truly allowed to (even George is warned sometimes).

LOVES seeing you wear his clothes, specifically his jumpers or his old quidditch T-shirt’s that you sleep in. It makes his little possessive brain twitch seeing you wear his clothes so openly in front of the whole school, declaring that you’re his.

Looks for you at every one of his Quidditch games- it gives him a boost of confidence to know that you’re cheering for him. Wanting to impress you, he always plays harder and better, putting on a show.

The first time you’d attended a quidditch game as his official girlfriend, you had worn his green ‘F’ jumper and he nearly fell off his broom once he’d realised.

He’s incredibly supportive as a friend and boyfriend. Even though he knows that he is seen as the ‘meaner’ twin, he has a true sweetness to him that most people overlook but he’d do anything for you and his friends, even at great personal risk. He supports you in everything you want to do and always looks after you if you get stressed or disheartened whilst chasing your dreams.

He’s especially protective of Ginny, taking his role of older brother very seriously. He still says that he fell truly in love with you the moment he saw you running up and confronting Malfoy, who had been teasing Ginny after the whole Chamber of Secrets event. Upon seeing the commotion, Fred had run to help her, followed closely by George, but you had gotten there first and had verbally berated the bully before punching him square in the nose. You then pulled Ginny away, cast your arm around her protectively and had begun escorting her back to the common room even though you were originally going the other way. Only when you had met up with Fred and George did you eventually leave her and go to your destination, making sure that she was comfortable and safe with her brothers before leaving. You’d received a letter home and detention for three weeks for punching Malfoy and another late night detention for being late to class but you still maintained that it was worth it.

Will throw hands without a second thought at anyone who disrespects you. He’s incredibly protective and won’t hesitate to throw a punch at anyone who violates your boundaries. Minimal offences still demand punishment and it’s common for anyone who crosses you to suspiciously find themselves with boils, purple hair or spontaneously vomiting the next day.

He’s surprisingly needy in private and loves to cuddle. Loves having his hair stroked and played with. Always has to be touching you in some way, even just your feet touching in bed or a hand absently placed on your hip.

Cannot cook to save his life, even with the assistance of magic.

He LOVES being a twin but he’s actually terrified of having twins once you start trying for a baby.

NSFW🌹

Will try anything once. Fact.

He’s a master with his fingers. He knew how much you loved his hands even before you were together, having caught you staring at them multiple times. They’re long, thin and incredibly skilled.

Makes it his personal mission in life to learn every single one of your pleasure points and can anticipate your every reaction just by the sounds you make, having learnt each and every one.

Had a definite breeding kink but doesn’t actually want kids yet. The idea of knocking you up and seeing you pregnant makes him harder than he ever thought possible. It’s his dirty little secret.

Dirty talk champ- he knows how much you love his voice and how much it gets you off when he whispers absolute filth to you in the middle of sex but it absolutely riles him up too. It’s less of a calculated dialogue and more of a dirty, running commentary on how well he’s fucking you.

Big fan of quickies. He’ll literally fuck you anywhere if the mood arises, which is always. As much as he loves to tease you and make you wait, savouring your body, there’s nothing like a quick, hard fuck in his book.

Definite size kink. He’s 6ft 3 and you are definitely not. Along with this comes a specific show of dominance, his height making him tower over you which makes him feel powerful and in control.

Although it depends on the overall mood, he’s mostly still playful and teasing even during sex, as are you. Occasionally you will try and throw each other off their game. One time you purposefully moaned out Snape’s name to throw him off and it caused a three minute intermission as you both had to stop and laugh. He then swiftly pulled out of you, spanked you and then proceeded to fuck you harder as ‘punishment’ for moaning another man’s name.

He’s absolutely feral for you wearing skirts.

He likes the idea of public sex but after you were both once accidentally caught by George, he decided that he hated the thought of anyone but him seeing you like that and put an end to your more risky escapades. Semi-public is still fine, of course.

[amirasainz]

I feel like the grid would be so happy to see Amira in the Met Gala like in thr fic that you wrote... And then Carlos would see her with Lewis and go: HEY WHY DID HE GET AN INVITE AND I DIDNT?? ALSO WHY IS HE TOUCHING MY BABY SISTER

Cue Carlos throwing hands and trying to convince Max to lend him his plane so he can go chase after a knight for being near his sister 😂

I love writing about the Met Gala. Enjoy reading and send me some requests. -XoXo

The After Party

The Met Gala and its glamorous allure had captivated the racing grid. Lewis Hamilton’s presence was no secret; they watched him on the screen, cheering and eagerly awaiting Amira’s grand entrance.

But the unsuspecting twist came during the After-Party. The anticipation to see Amira in her stunning new dress was palpable. And when they noticed her surrounded by girls, Kim and Lana, their happiness soared. Amira’s animated conversation with her friends seemed like a dream unfolding before their eyes.

Then reality shattered that dream. Lewis Hamilton, the unexpected intruder, covered her eyes. The shock wasn’t just that he was there; it was the genuine happiness on Amira’s face. But the worst part? His possessive arm remained around her waist. The. Whole. Damn. Time.

Oscar muttered, “No. No fucking way.” George stumbled over his words, unable to form a coherent sentence. Max, in his stunned state, accidentally dropped his phone.

Carlos, protective brother mode activated, shook poor Charles. “That stupid man! First, he takes MY seat. Now he wants to take my sister. What’s next, my liver? Where’s my invitation? Did you eat it?” His frustration knew no bounds.

Charles stood up, resolute. “Not with me, mate.” Daniel attempted to mediate. “Hey, Carlos, let’s calm down a bit.”

But Carlos wouldn’t be placated. “No! I won’t calm down. This man has the audacity to hold my sister. MAx, give me your plane, You don't need —DID HE JUST KISS HER CHEEK?!" "Quick! Grab him!” Pierre’s command set off a frenzy. Six drivers piled on top of Ferrari’s Carlos Sainz, determined to protect their own.

Carlos’s final declaration echoed through the room: “NO, YOU CAN’T PROTECT HIM FOREVER! I WILL SEE HIM IN IMOLA!”

And so, for the next 30 minutes, the room buzzed with attempts to calm Carlos’s fiery rage.

**********************************************

Bonus (+)

“Oh, look at her. It seems our pretty girl fell asleep,” Lana gently informed Lewis. Throughout the night, he had subtly shifted her chair closer and closer to him until, finally, she succumbed to slumber in his arms.

Kim, ever considerate, asked, “Should we help you get her to the car?” Lewis’s gentle response came, “It would be very sweet if you could help me get her to her hotel room.”

And so it happened—the iconic picture of Lewis Hamilton carrying a sleeping Amira Sainz, flanked by Lana Del Rey and Kim Kardashian, became an internet sensation.

[clarkevision]

George Clarkey | Flowers of Regret

Summary: George goes on a lads holiday where he is unfaithful...

George Clarkey wasn’t just my boyfriend; he was my best friend, my partner in crime, and the person who could make even the worst days feel bearable. His laugh, the way it lit up his entire face, was something I couldn’t get enough of. From the moment we met, I felt like I’d found someone who truly got me.

Our relationship wasn’t perfect—what relationship is?—but it was ours. We’d spent late nights talking about everything from his YouTube channel to our dreams for the future. He wanted to grow his brand, keep making people laugh, and maybe one day settle down when the time felt right. I loved that about him—how he balanced ambition with warmth, never letting the pressures of his rising fame change who he was.

So when he told me he was going on a lads’ holiday to Ibiza with Arthur TV, Arthur Hill, and Chris, I wanted to be supportive. They’d been planning it for months—a chance to unwind, let loose, and celebrate the success of their channels.

“I’m happy for you,” I said one night as we curled up on the couch.

“You sure?” George asked, looking at me with those big, brown eyes of his. “I know Ibiza’s got a bit of a reputation, but it’s just going to be chill. Beach, drinks, banter. You know how it is.”

I forced a smile. “Of course. You deserve a break. Just... don’t forget to call me sometimes, okay?”

He grinned, pulling me closer. “I’d never forget about you.”

The first few days of the trip seemed harmless enough. George sent me updates—pictures of the boys lounging by the pool with beers in hand, group shots of them at sunset, and videos of their ridiculous antics.

Arthur TV, ever the instigator, seemed to be leading the charge. One video showed him trying to get Arthur Hill to dance in the middle of a crowded club while Chris cheered them on. George was in the background, laughing so hard he was crying.

I smiled at the clips, feeling a little less anxious. This was the George I knew—the George who loved his mates but always made time for me.

“You’re behaving, right?” I teased one evening, sending him a selfie of me in pajamas.

“Always,” he replied with a winking emoji.

But as the days went on, his messages became less frequent. The photos stopped, and our texts turned into brief exchanges that left me feeling more disconnected than ever.

“Having fun?” I asked on the third night, hoping for reassurance.

“Yeah, all good,” he replied hours later. No emoji, no follow-up.

I stared at my phone, the sinking feeling in my stomach growing heavier with each passing day.

When George finally came home, I was relieved but also nervous. He walked through the door looking tanned and relaxed, his hair tousled in that effortless way that always made him look like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

“Hey, babe,” he said, dropping his bags and pulling me into a hug.

I wrapped my arms around him, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne, but something felt different. His hug wasn’t as tight as it usually was, and when I looked up at him, his eyes didn’t meet mine.

“How was it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

“Yeah, it was good,” he said, shrugging. “Just the usual—beach, drinks, a bit of clubbing. Nothing too crazy.”

He kissed me quickly and headed to the kitchen, leaving me standing there, my heart sinking. Normally, George couldn’t stop talking after trips, reenacting every funny moment and showing me the footage he planned to use in his vlogs. This time, he seemed... guarded.

Over the next few days, the distance between us grew. George was quieter than usual, his energy subdued. He spent hours editing footage from the holiday, his headphones on as he stared at his laptop. I tried to give him space, but my unease was impossible to ignore.

One evening, as he sat on the couch, laptop balanced on his knees, I leaned over his shoulder. “Can I see what you’re working on?”

“It’s nothing exciting,” he said quickly, clicking away from a folder.

My heart sank. “You always show me your edits.”

He hesitated, then gave me a weak smile. “It’s just rough stuff. I’ll show you when it’s done.”

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something.

That night, after George fell asleep, I did something I’d never done before—I opened his laptop. I told myself it was nothing, that I’d find the usual clips of him and the boys being idiots. But as I scrolled through the folders, my hands began to shake.

There, tucked away in a folder with the dates of the trip, were photos and videos I wish I’d never seen.

In one video, George was dancing with a group of people in a club. At first, it looked innocent enough—until I noticed one woman in particular. She was gorgeous, her dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her smile bright and confident. She and George were pressed close together, her hands resting on his chest as they moved in sync.

Then came the kiss.

My stomach dropped as I watched George lean in, his lips meeting hers in a moment of drunken recklessness.

I slammed the laptop shut, my hands trembling.

The next morning, I confronted him. He was in the kitchen, making coffee, when I placed the laptop on the counter.

“Care to explain this?” I asked, my voice shaking.

George froze, his eyes widening as he saw the screen. “I—”

“You promised me,” I said, tears streaming down my face. “You promised you’d behave. That I had nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t know what happened,” he stammered, running a hand through his hair. “I was drunk, it was stupid—it didn’t mean anything.”

“But it meant something to me,” I snapped, my voice breaking. “You didn’t just hurt me, George. You broke my trust. You broke us.”

He stepped toward me, his eyes filled with tears. “Please, don’t go. I’ll do anything to make this right. You’re everything to me.”

I shook my head, backing away. “You made your choice in Ibiza. Now I’m making mine.”

As I packed my things, George sat on the bed, his head in his hands. I wanted to forgive him, to believe that it was just a mistake, but I couldn’t. Some lines couldn’t be uncrossed.

The days after I walked away from George were excruciating. Every corner of my apartment felt heavy with his absence—the cozy nights on the couch, the inside jokes, the sound of his laugh echoing through the rooms. But those memories were tainted now, overshadowed by what he’d done on that lads’ holiday.

My phone vibrated constantly, his name flashing on the screen more times than I could count. I ignored most of the messages, unwilling to face his words when my heart still felt so raw.

“Please talk to me. I’m so sorry.” “I miss you so much. I can’t believe I messed this up.” “You mean everything to me. Please give me a chance to fix this.”

The messages ranged from desperate apologies to quiet admissions of how much he missed me. I didn’t know how to respond. Part of me wanted to believe him, to hold onto the George I thought I knew, but another part of me couldn’t forget the betrayal.

One morning, I opened my door to find a bouquet of flowers waiting on my doorstep—peonies and tulips, a mix of soft pinks and whites. My favorites. Tucked inside was a small card in George’s handwriting.

“I know flowers can’t fix what I’ve done, but I wanted to remind you of how much you mean to me. I miss you more than I can put into words. Love, George.”

I stared at the card for a long time, my fingers tracing the words.

That same day, another message popped up on my phone.

“I left flowers for you. I don’t expect them to change anything, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how much you love them. I’m so sorry, and I’ll do anything to make this right.”

I didn’t reply, but I kept the flowers.

The next day, another delivery arrived. This time, it was a small box of my favorite chocolates, along with a handwritten note.

“I saw these and thought of you. Every little thing reminds me of you—every song, every place we used to go. I can’t stop thinking about how much I’ve hurt you, and I hate myself for it. You deserve so much better, but I want to prove that I can be better. I love you.”

The messages kept coming, each one a mix of remorse and longing.

“I miss your laugh.” “I miss your smile.” “I miss the way you’d always steal the blanket in the middle of the night and act like it wasn’t you.”

I hated how much his words tugged at my heart, how they reminded me of all the good times we’d shared before everything went wrong.

On the third day, George showed up at my door. He stood there holding another bouquet—this one bigger than the last—and looking utterly defeated. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he had the same messy, unshaven look he always got when he was stressed.

“Please,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “Can we talk?”

I hesitated, my heart pounding, but eventually stepped aside to let him in.

He set the flowers down on the table and turned to face me, his hands trembling slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say, how to make you see how sorry I am, but nothing feels like enough.”

I crossed my arms, keeping my distance. “Words won’t change what you did, George.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “And I don’t expect you to forgive me just because I’m saying sorry. But I can’t let this go without trying. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I ruined it because I was selfish and stupid. And I hate myself for that.”

Tears welled up in his eyes as he continued. “I miss you so much it hurts. I miss waking up next to you, hearing your voice, seeing your smile. I miss us. And I’ll do anything—anything—to earn your trust back, even if it takes the rest of my life.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. “How do I know you won’t do it again?”

“You don’t,” he said honestly, his voice breaking. “All I can do is show you that I’ve learned from this, that I’m never going to let myself make such a horrible mistake again. You mean too much to me. I can’t lose you.”

Over the next week, George didn’t let up. He sent more messages—each one heartfelt and raw, never pressuring me, but always reminding me how much he cared.

“I saw a couple walking in the park today and thought of you. Do you remember that time we got caught in the rain and you laughed the whole way home? I miss that laugh.” “I’m not giving up on us. Not because I deserve forgiveness, but because you deserve to know how much I love you.” “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

One evening, as I sat alone in my apartment reading his latest message, something inside me shifted. His words weren’t just empty promises—they were full of vulnerability, of someone who truly understood the weight of what he’d done.

I picked up my phone and typed a single message.

“I’m not saying I can forgive you yet. But maybe we can talk.”

The reply came almost instantly.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

When George showed up the next day, he looked nervous but hopeful. We sat on the couch, the air between us heavy with unspoken feelings.

“I’m not ready to jump back into anything,” I told him honestly. “But I’m willing to see if you can prove yourself.”

George nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude. “I will. I promise you, I will.”

It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t a guarantee of a happy ending. But it was a start.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Start Something

Summary: GR63 + "Don't start something you can't finish." 🥧🏈

Song: Gigi Perez - Sailor Song

Author’s note: First time writing George and it's with a black Queen! aka Lewis' sister! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 16.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

In the dazzling world of Formula 1, where speed and fierce competition ruled, George Russell had always thought that nothing could distract him from his relentless pursuit of victory.

Raised amidst the roar of engines and the cheers of euphoric fans, he had turned a passion nurtured in go-karting into a career in racing. Joining Mercedes was a dream come true, a feather in his cap, and the stepping stone to establishing himself amongst the giants of the sport.

Yet, as George settled into his role alongside the legendary Lewis Hamilton, fate decided to introduce a new element—a distraction that made his heart race in ways no car ever could.

That distraction stood at the heart of the Mercedes garage, your laughter intertwining with the mechanical precision of pit stops, your presence an ethereal glow that drew every eye.

Y/N Hamilton, Lewis’s younger sister, with your long, flowing black braids and captivating smile, had transformed George’s world.

From the first moment he saw you, casually leaning against the garage wall and teasing your brother about his tire choices, George felt something shift within him.

You had a spark, a vivacity that permeated through every conversation. Every playful banter between you and Lewis made his heart flutter.

Unlike the calculated strategies and adrenaline-soaked races he were used to, you were uncharted territory, an alluring enigma that he found impossible to resist.

There were something intoxicating yet daunting about you—you were Lewis’s sister, a protector of the family name, and that made George hesitate. In a sport where boundaries was often blurred, this one felt resolute.

When the races ended and the teams dissipated back to their homes, George's thoughts lingered on Y/N like a lingering tune.

He would catch glimpses of you in the paddock, joking with mechanics, stealing the occasional insightful chat with engineers, and even cheering from the pit wall.

Everything about your captivated him—the way your laughter harmonized with the thundering engines, how your eyes sparkled when you spoke about racing, and the warmth of your presence that pulled everyone in closer.

George tried to tell himself that he had experience with women, with dating, and that he could easily approach you. But as he watched you from afar, the typical confidence he exuded on the track melted away.

You were untouchable, wrapped in the aura of familial loyalty; your brother was a legend in the sport.

Asking you out felt like challenging a titan.

You were the sister of Lewis Hamilton, a seven-time world champion, and that distinction brought its own kind of attention. People flocked to you, drawn in by your radiant smile and laughter.

Yet, amid the glamorous chaos surrounding you, there was George Russell, the promising young driver from Mercedes.

His piercing blue eyes often met yours in fleeting glances, a moment of light amidst the sea of noise, but when they did, his usual bravado seemed to dissipate, leaving behind a shy, vulnerable side of him that was rarely seen.

As you took your place near the track—the energy of excited fans thrumming in rhythm with your heartbeat—Lewis nudged you gently.

“Look at George over there,” he said, pointing to where George stood in his paddock, fiddling nervously with his cap. There he was, the confident driver to the world, yet utterly bashful in your presence.

You chuckled softly, unable to suppress the warmth blooming in your chest. “What’s he doing?” you mused, tilting your head to get a better look.

“Probably trying to figure out how to say hello to you without blushing,” Lewis teased, a grin stretching across his face. “It’s hilarious, really. I’ve never seen him shy around anyone else.”

“Maybe I should go say hi,” you suggested playfully, feeling a small thrill at the thought.

You had developed a mutual admiration with George over the months—not just for his driving skills but the warmth behind his reserved demeanor. Their playful banter only added to the chemistry you felt building with him.

“Go for it. But prepare for him to fumble like a rookie at the last corner,” Lewis chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Bracing yourself, you made your way through the throng of team members and media personnel, your confidence buoying you along.

As you approached George, he looked up, and his handsome face fell into a genuine smile, although the faintest blush tinted his cheeks.

“Hey, George,” you greeted, injecting cheerfulness into your voice.

“Uh, hey! I—um... hi!” His words tumbled out like loose marbles as he fumbled with his helmet.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Lewis says you’re a little shy around me. Is that true?”

“Shy? Me?” He pretended to scoff, but his shy smile betrayed him. “Nah, just... focused on the race. Really important stuff, you know?”

You leaned a bit closer, observing how unlike his usual self he was around you. “Sure, Mr. Focused. But the race isn’t happening for a while. Don’t you have time to chat?”

His gaze softened, his nervousness dwindling as he began to relax. “Right! Of course. What do you want to talk about?”

“How about you tell me what this weekend means to you,” you suggested, curious to know more about his passion.

George’s eyes lit up, and for a moment, the world around you faded. “It’s everything. The adrenaline, the competition—it’s like... like dancing on the edge. When I’m out there, nothing else matters; it’s just the track and me.”

You watched him talk, captivated by the passion in his voice. “That sounds exhilarating. I can’t imagine how it feels.”

“It’s—” he paused, catching himself, “It’s even better knowing you’re here. Really.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you searched his blue eyes for sincerity. “Why’s that?”

He dropped his gaze, appearing bashful once more. “I don’t know. You just bring a different kind of energy. It’s nice.”

Before you could respond, Lewis appeared, draping an arm around George’s shoulder. “Look at you two! I knew you’d scare him out of his shell,” he laughed. “Do you need a tutor in flirting, George?”

George shot him a mock glare. “I don’t need a tutor. I’m just... um, focused.”

“Sure, focused,” you interjected, suppressing laughter. “Give it time, Lewis. Maybe he’ll crack.”

“Oh, he will. Just wait until he gets back from the race and needs someone to celebrate with,” Lewis smirked before giving George a friendly nudge. “Break a leg out there! But not literally. We still need you alive for the after-party.”

With a final flip of his cap, George knew it was time to shift his focus. “Catch you after the race?” he asked, his tone growing a little more assured.

“Definitely,” you replied, giving him a smile that felt like a secret promise.

You stood beside the barriers, a proud family member soaking in the electric atmosphere that only race day could provide. George, Lewis's teammate at Mercedes and an up-and-coming star in his own right, had just come off the track after a hard-fought race.

As the cars roared by in a cloud of tires and adrenaline, your heart raced—not from the high speeds, but from the anticipation of welcoming George back.

“Georgie! You did so well!” you yelled, waving your arms as he approached the garage, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

George's expression softened, and a weary smile tugged at his lips. He was exhausted, but your encouragement infused him with energy.

“Thanks! It was a tough one out there,” he replied, shaking his head as if trying to clear the dizzying effects of the race.

As he drew closer, you could see the way his hair clung to his forehead, the remnants of the incredible effort he had just put forth.

Your heart fluttered, and as you often did, you reverted to that endearing nickname. “You’re such a little champion, Georgie! I’m so proud of you!”

George blushed, a swath of crimson spreading across his cheeks. “I’m not that little,” he protested weakly, trying to play off the nickname, but the smile on his face betrayed him.

You laughed and stepped closer, an undeniable warmth spreading through you. It was a little game you played, this teasing; you loved seeing him squirm, and you loved even more how he would pretend to be annoyed while secretly reveling in the attention.

George took a step forward and embraced you tightly. The warmth of his sweat-soaked suit pressed against you, the mingling scents of adrenaline and engine oil surrounding you both.

The hug was a blend of camaraderie and something deeper, something you both tried hard to ignore yet felt every time you were together.

“What a race! I thought I was going to lose it at that corner,” he said, pulling back from the hug but not entirely letting go of your hands.

“Corner ten, right? I was holding my breath! But you kept your cool,” you grinned, feeling the intensity in his eyes as he recounted his experience.

“I tried to channel my inner Lewis,” he joked, but there was a flicker of sincerity in his tone. It turned into a soft admiration that you couldn’t help but notice.

George had an undeniable respect for your brother, but was he beginning to look up to you too?

“You should!” you teased, playfully bumping your shoulder against his. “Just don’t forget who’s been cheering the loudest for you!”

George chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. “You’ve made that very clear, y’know. I can hear you through my helmet.”

“Oh, you think I’ll mute myself because you’re a big-shot F1 driver now? Not a chance!”

The banter was light, but beneath the surface, there was a palpable tension, an unspoken bond that lingered in the air like the scent of burnt rubber.

Excitement crackled in the air as fans buzzed around the barriers, their cheers mingling with the distant roar of engines. Amidst the whirlwind of team activity, George Russell leaned against the open door of the Mercedes garage, his arms crossed as he watched the sea of enthusiastic supporters.

"Hey, try and shoot your shot with my little sis, even though she will reject you," came the teasing voice of Lewis Hamilton, who had just stepped out of the hospitality suite, an amused smirk dancing on his lips.

George’s eyes darted to where you stood, chatting amiably with a group of fans. With your effortless grace and radiant smile, it was difficult to imagine anyone being brave—or foolish—enough to approach you.

Lewis shrugged lightly, as if he had just made a casual comment about the weather.

What he didn’t know was that George had been harboring a significant crush on you for longer than he cared to admit.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” George said, trying to sound nonchalant. He could feel his cheeks warming with embarrassment.

The last thing he wanted was to confess to Lewis how he felt about you, especially since Lewis had made it quite clear that you had rejected quite a list of drivers before.

“You sure? I mean, you never know,” Lewis teased, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eyes.

George turned his gaze back toward the fans, pretending to be absorbed in an ongoing autograph session, while internally he sighed.

His heart raced as he watched you bend down to sign a cap for a young girl, the way your laugh rang out like a bell, how genuine and warm you were in your interactions. Truly, anyone would have a hard time coming to you with all that positivity surrounding you.

George sighed, pushing away from the door. "I have to get ready for the next session," he replied, waving a casual hand to dismiss the increasingly tempting idea of approaching you.

"Suit yourself," Lewis said, an amused expression crossing his face as he stepped back inside.

With heavy footsteps, George made his way to his car, but his mind was still fixated on you.

How was it that you could have such an undeniable effect on him?

Just before he climbed in, he glanced back, hoping to steal one more look. The moment he did, he caught your attention; you waved at him, and a smile graced your lips.

He froze, caught between the instinct to wave back and the fear of making a fool of himself.

After what felt like an eternity, he managed to raise his hand in a hesitant wave, heat flooding his face. It was ridiculous—he was a driver in the elite world of Formula 1, yet here he was, acting like a schoolboy with a crush.

Later that evening, during a team dinner, George found himself at a table scattered with familiar faces. Lewis, animatedly recounting a recent on-track incident, commanded attention while George half-listened.

He glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of you again, this time engaging with a couple of other drivers who were undoubtedly vying for your attention.

“God, look at her,” one of the drivers muttered, casting a flirtatious eye your way. "You think she’d notice if I shot my shot?"

“No one’s shooting anywhere, mate,” George snapped, surprising even himself with the sudden flare of jealousy. “She’s Lewis’s sister.”

The driver rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t mean she’s off-limits. She’s not a trophy to be won, you know.”

As the evening wore on, George made a conscious effort to not think about you. He should focus on the upcoming race and the important decisions that needed his complete attention.

Still, the thought of you lingered in the corners of his mind.

Then, as fate would have it, you entered the dining area, searching for a seat. Spotting George at the table, you smiled and made your way over.

“Mind if I join?” you asked, your voice warm and inviting.

“Of course not! I mean—I mean, please!” George stammered, his heart racing again. Mystery of how to act around you descended into chaos in his mind.

You chuckled softly as you settled into the seat opposite him. “What are you talking about? I saw you glancing at me during the signing session today. I thought you were going to knock someone over with how tense you looked!”

He couldn’t help but laugh nervously, the kind of laugh that felt more like a burst of squealing excitement than anything else. “Yeah, well… it’s just, I’m not good at that kind of stuff.”

Your eyebrows arched in surprise. “Not good at handling fans? But you’re a driver! You basically live under a spotlight,” you retorted playfully.

“More like I’m good at racing cars, not at charming beautiful women,” George admitted, taking a sip of his drink.

“Beautiful women? Now I’m curious. Have you been talking to anyone?” You leaned forward, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

George felt himself blush at your inquiry. “Only one, I suppose…but you probably wouldn’t care for that,” he said, trying to deflect.

“Try me,” you said, leaning back in enjoyment of the banter.

Before George could respond, Lewis appeared, swinging a hand around your shoulders. “There’s my sis! I hope you’re not stealing my teammate’s heart!”

George felt his face turn crimson. "That’s— uh, not happening, Lewis.”

“Blushing? Wow, I’ll have to tell the media about that,” Lewis laughed, holding on to your shoulder like a protective brother.

Not wanting to seem awkward, you quickly intervened. “Chill, Lewis! We’re just getting to know each other.”

George stole a glance at you, his heart racing yet again. For the first time, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he could open up about his feelings—just maybe.

But then came the reality: fear tightened around him again. What if you rejected him too? Would that ruin everything?

“Anyway,” you said, breaking the momentary silence. “What’s your take on the race tomorrow?”

George plunged into a conversation about strategy and his excitement, but in the back of his mind, the wish that he could simply tell you how he felt hung between you like an unmentioned dart.

As the dinner carried on, with laughter and snippets of conversation bouncing between you and the others, George realized he’d have to take a leap of faith at some point.

“Hey, would you… want to catch up after the race? You know, just us?” He fixed his gaze on you, uncertainty sprinkled with a hint of determination.

Your smile widened, an invitation hanging on the edge of your lips. “I’d love that, George.”

╚═ * . · : · . ✧ ✦ ✧ . · : · . * * . · : · . ✧ ✦ ✧ . · : · . * ═╝

The sun dipped low on the horizon as George paced in the paddock, his heart heavy with disappointment.

It had been a tough season.

He could still hear the cheers from last year, the adrenaline pulsing through him as he crossed the finish line, grinning widely with the trophy held high above his head. But this year was different.

This year, every race felt like a battle against unseen foes, and his performance was slipping.

You hadn't been to any of the races this year, and it gnawed at him. George had always believed in the idea of lucky charms, and you had been his.

The way you would wrap him in a soothing hug after a bad score, whispering encouraging words in his ear. It had brought him a confidence he didn’t even know he needed.

He would always think of those moments, of your laughter echoing in his mind, propelling him forward when he felt like giving up. “Just do it for her smile, Georgie,” he’d remind himself, drawing strength from the bond you shared.

Now, he stood alone on the edge of the pit wall, wind whipping through his hair as he tried to shake off the feeling of dread that hung around his neck.

There was no one here to call him ‘Georgie’ like you used to, no teasing remarks about being a baby even though you were just a year older and a few inches taller.

The void you left felt so immense, filling the space where hope and encouragement had once thrived.

As the cars tore down the track, he struggled to push himself to focus. The roar of the engines was an ominous reminder of the struggles he faced.

Every corner he took felt unmotivated, every lap just a task to be completed rather than a race to be conquered. He could almost see you in the grandstands, waving your hands, your infectious energy lighting up the day.

But all he could see now were empty seats.

During the race, he made a few mistakes, his mind wandering to what you might say if you were there. The frustration built in him until finally, it burst. Ignoring the instructions from the team, he pushed the car harder than ever.

His only thought was “You need to do this for her,” and for a brief moment, it worked, igniting a familiar fire in his chest.

But then, as luck would have it, that very push led him to misjudge a turn, and he felt the tires screech in protest before the world spun around him.

Silence fell in the aftermath of the crash, and as he peeled himself out of the car, the reality hit him. There were no cheers, no warm embraces waiting for him, only the medics’ concerned faces.

Anguish swelled in his chest. All of his efforts to make you proud had culminated in this moment of humiliation.

As he sat on the sidelines, bandaged and dejected, he felt a familiar shiver run down his spine. He suddenly remembered the last race of the previous season, the way you had been waiting for him in the pit after his win, your arms wide, your smile brighter than the sun.

“See, Georgie, I told you it was going to be okay!” you had exclaimed, laughing as you wrapped him in an embrace that made all the struggles worth it.

The thought of that memory stirred something in him. Determination bloomed within his heart. In that moment, he resolved he wouldn’t let year’s disappointing results define him.

He would find a way to get back on track. He had to, if only to find a way to bring you back to the races to see him rise again.

As the team carried the wrecked car away, George stood up, swaying slightly but determined to shake off the remnants of defeat.

One thing was clear: he needed you, his lucky charm, back by his side. The next race was just around the corner, and he would make sure you would be there—no matter what it took.

The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, casting a warm glow on him as if signaling the start of something new.

Just as he was about to turn and walk away, he felt an inexplicable warmth, a flicker of your spirit. He smiled softly to himself. “Next time, I’ll make you proud, I promise.”

George took a deep breath as he watched Lewis scroll through his phone, the bright screen illuminating his relaxed expression. His heart raced slightly—today felt different.

He had been trying to find the right moment to ask Lewis about you, the woman who had captured his thoughts regularly since he joined Mercedes.

“Hey, George! Do you need something?” Lewis looked up just as George was approaching, his face lighting up with casual interest.

“Uh, yeah…” George hesitated, his mind racing. “I was just wondering where Y/N has been these days,” he managed, trying to sound as casual as possible.

The words came out more like stutters than coherent speech.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a grin breaking out on his face. “My sis, huh? Do you miss her that much?”

George felt the heat rise to his face, and he was sure he resembled a well-cooked lobster. “I was just wondering,” he said defensively. “That’s all.”

“Well, apparently she found something she wants to do and set off doing it. She didn’t give any details, though,” Lewis replied, an amused sparkle in his eyes.

“Oh, okay,” George replied, disappointment seeping into his voice. He had hoped for more, some hint of where you might be or when you might come back. “That’s...uh, good for her.”

“Should I call her for you?” Lewis teased, leaning back in his chair with a smug smile.

“No! I mean, no thanks, Lewis! That’s all I needed to know. See you!” George replied quickly, his nerves overtaking him as he turned to leave.

As he walked away, he could hear Lewis chuckling behind him, which only made his face feel hotter. George couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to know more about you.

You two had developed a close friendship through Lewis, sharing countless late-night conversations in the garage and daring adventures that seemed to bind your souls together.

The soft rays of the autumn sun filtered through the white curtains of your new apartment, casting a warm glow on the walls. You sank deeper into the plush couch, pulling a cozy blanket around you as you surrendered to the soothing embrace of a nap.

The chirping of birds outside formed a gentle background melody, lulling you further into restful oblivion.

Just as you began to drift off, the shrill ring of your phone broke the serene silence. Groggily, you fumbled to grab it from the coffee table, squinting at the screen. It was Lewis. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and answered.

“Hey Lewis! Is something wrong?” you asked, concern lacing your voice, knowing that he was supposed to be at a big race in just a few hours.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Lewis replied, his tone light and cheerful. “I’ve gotten a sick teammate.”

You shot straight up, your heart racing. “Oh no! What happened to Georgie?” you asked, brain already filling with worst-case scenarios.

“It’s not that kind of sickness,” Lewis laughed, a laugh that felt like a warm embrace over the phone. “I mean lovesick.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, but also felt a knot form in your stomach. “Oh, you shouldn't scare me like that!” you said, half relieved, half annoyed.

“Sorry, sis, but I couldn’t help it!” Lewis chuckled. “He looked so sad when I told him you were on an ‘adventure’ and didn’t know when you were coming back. You really did a number on the kid.”

Heat crept to your cheeks. Georgie had been such a sweet boy, a devoted fan of Lewis and his racing, but more so of you, it seemed. “Did he ask where I was?” you inquired, feeling strangely shy.

“Oh, definitely. He practically pouted when I told him,” Lewis laughed again, the sound brightening your mood even more. “I mean, he is missing his number one fan, I get it.”

You smirked, feeling a flutter of happiness at the thought. “Well, who wouldn’t miss me? I’m pretty amazing,” you jested, tossing your hair back dramatically for effect.

“Yes, yes, the most amazing person on the planet. All hail the fearless adventurer!” Lewis replied, his tone mock-heroic, making you giggle at the absurdity of it.

“I wish I had my cape,” you grinned, “but really, what’s this about him being lovesick?”

“He’s been moping around like a puppy who lost its favorite toy,” Lewis explained, his voice turning more serious. “I honestly think you’ve left quite an impression on him, sis.”

Now you felt shy again. “What am I supposed to do about that? I’m off on my own journey, and I didn’t mean to make him feel, you know, this way.”

“I don't know,” Lewis said thoughtfully. “But maybe it’s worth talking to him? Just to clear the air? He thinks you’re out doing some grand adventure, which you are, but he’s worried he’s lost his shot at it.”

You bit your lip, considering. The thought of Georgie missing you tugged at your heartstrings more than you anticipated. “I guess… I could give him a call or something. Maybe a video chat?”

“Definitely! Give the poor kid a break. Plus, I’d love to hear the shenanigans you two would get into,” Lewis encouraged.

You felt a stirring of excitement at the idea. “Okay, I’ll do it! But if I end up causing him to fall head over heels in love with me, I’m blaming you,” you joked back, “It’s all your fault for egging me on!”

“Hey!” Lewis exclaimed, sounding mock-offended. “I’m just a brother trying to save his teammate's spirit here! I’d never want that kind of drama on my hands.”

You could hear the laughter in his voice and it made you feel more at ease. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do. Just keep an eye on Georgie, will you? And make sure he doesn’t drive himself to distraction before our talk.”

“I’ll send him your warmest regards,” Lewis promised, “And I expect full reports of your ‘adventure’ when you get back home.”

“As if I’m not already planning to regale you with tales worthy of royal storytelling!” you declared with mock seriousness.

“Perfect! I can already picture the enthusiastic crowd gathered for your triumphant return!” Lewis teased, and you both burst into laughter.

After the call ended, you put your phone down and stared out the window, contemplating the golden leaves dancing in the mild breeze. Who knew?

Perhaps this adventure was about more than just finding yourself. It might also be the path that led you toward an unexpected connection, one that had stirred beneath the surface, waiting for its moment to bloom.

And Georgie? Maybe he was one of those surprises along the journey.

George sat on the edge of his driver’s room chair, the weight of disappointment pressing down on him like the thick heat of a summer day.

The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, illuminating a world that felt far too bright and unjust.

He couldn’t shake the image of the checkered flag unfurling just as he crossed the finish line, his heart sinking as he realized he was in 17th place—a rank so low, it felt like a personal failure.

Outside, the celebrations for Lewis echoed through the walls. His teammate had pulled off yet another impressive race, scoring 6th place and basking in the accolades from fans and team members alike.

George could almost hear the cheers and laughter of the other drivers as they recounted their thrilling overtakes and nail-biting moments. But all he could feel was bitterness clinging to him like the stale odor of spilled fuel.

He had let himself down, and in turn, he had let down the team who had worked tirelessly to give him the best chance possible.

His thoughts spiraled into dark territory—if only the car had performed better, if only he had pushed harder, if only he hadn’t made that last-minute decision to take the inside line.

Not that it mattered now; the race was over, and all that remained was the sinking feeling of defeat.

After the debriefing, George had retreated to his room, avoiding the glances of his teammates who knew better than to engage him in conversation. He appreciated their silence, but it added a new layer to his frustration: the isolation.

A part of him longed for the comfort of a familiar voice, someone to tell him it was just a race, that he could come back stronger. But that supportive presence couldn’t arrive soon enough.

Why hadn’t you come?

You’d been a pillar of support, a reminder that racing was about passion, not just the numbers on a scoreboard. But today, you weren’t here, and he felt that absence like a gaping void.

George slumped back onto the couch, the weight of his disappointment crashing down like the checkered flag at the end of a long race. Seventeen place.

It wasn’t where he saw himself landing, not after all the preparation he had gone through for this event. His usual drive was throttled by anger and frustration, and there wasn’t much anyone could say to lift him out of this funk.

He rolled his head to the side, staring at the wall, half-listening to the muted sounds of the race venue still bustling outside. The excitement felt like a distant echo, so far removed from his own bitterness.

His phone sat silently on the desk, an uninvited messenger of expectation. It vibrated quietly, then rang out—it was family, probably. They’d be calling to soothe him, to assure him that he had more races ahead and that this one outcome didn’t define him.

But in that moment, George couldn’t muster the patience. He didn’t want to hear their words, wrapped in kindness, when all he felt was regret. He turned his head back toward the wall, letting the phone ring out.

But seconds later, it rang again—a familiar ringtone that made him sit up. They weren’t giving up easily. Just as he was about to dismiss it again, the third ring pulled him in.

With an exasperated sigh, he pushed himself off the sofa, his feet leading him to the desk. He picked up the phone and glanced at the screen. His heart dropped.

It was you.

The image of your face, lit up by the screen, chased away the haze that had settled over his mind. His stomach twisted as nostalgia teamed up with excitement, and he quickly answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, Georgie!” Your voice danced through the receiver, a melody that tugged at his heartstrings. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his nickname escaping your lips. “How are you doing?”

“I got 17th place today,” he muttered, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I know, I watched the race,” you replied, unfazed. “I wish I could give you a hug right now.”

George's heart ached at your words. He wished he could feel your warmth surrounding him, erasing the chill of loneliness that had settled in. “Where did you go?” he said softly, laying down on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. “You've just... disappeared.”

“I've just gone to find my own path, you know?” Your voice was tinged with a weariness he could hear even through the phone. “Did you miss me?”

“Should I lie?” George joked, but the jest had a bittersweet edge.

“Nope, only the truth,” you insisted, making his stomach twist in knots.

“I’ve missed you a lot,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. It had been months since they had last seen each other, months since laughter had filled the gaps between them, and the thrill of their shared dreams had become mere echoes.

As silence settled between them, George could picture you—a smile that could light up any room, laughter that could dissolve his worries.

He missed the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about your passions, how every conversation turned into a palette of colors that painted hope into his often grueling life as an F1 driver.

“Are you still there?” you finally asked, as he remained lost in thought.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, pulling himself back into the moment. “I was just... thinking about how life is different now that you're not around.”

“I feel the same way,” you admitted, voice softer now. “It’s strange, isn’t it? One moment we were inseparable, and the next, it feels like the world pulled us apart.”

George sat up and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Do you think it’ll always be like this? Just... drifting apart?”

“I hope not.” Your voice was resolute, but the uncertainty lingered. “I think we’ve both been chasing something, but maybe our paths will overlap again.”

“Maybe,” he echoed, though he felt a pang of doubt. The F1 circuit was ruthless, and the more he advanced, the more it consumed him.

Success came at a price, and that price had meant sacrificing time with you, with the person who had always seen him beyond the flashy cars and the roaring crowds.

“Let me know what I can do to help,” you joked lightly. “Send you good vibes? Or maybe I should crash the race tomorrow and cheer you on?”

He chuckled, grateful for the banter amid his anxieties. “I’d love that. The distraction could help.”

As your laughter echoed through the phone, his heartstrings tugged as they always did.

How could someone so vibrant and full of life care enough to check in on him? In his eyes, you were effortlessly beautiful, with a spirit that could light up even the darkest corners of his fears.

“Alright, I’ve got to go. I need to call Lewis and congratulate him,” you announced, bringing him back to reality.

“Yeah, see you soon?” He tried to keep his voice casual, but the thought of your absence felt like a weight in his chest.

“I hope so. Bye, Georgie!” you sang before hanging up, the sound leaving an aching silence behind.

George tossed his phone onto the desk and took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling.

The vibrations of the engines revving echoed in his mind, but it was your voice—your laughter—that settled in his heart.

“So you talked to my sis then?” Lewis called out, his tone teasing.

George halted mid-stride as he walking past the hospitality room, his confident demeanor faltering for a brief moment.

Heat crept up his cheeks as he glanced back at Lewis. “What? No, I didn’t—”

“Come on, mate. It’s written all over your face!” Lewis laughed, the sound infectious. “I saw you two chatting before on the phone. What’s it got to do with racing, huh?”

George chuckled nervously, an undeniable smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “We were just discussing the dynamics of the track...”

Lewis nodded, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with genuine warmth. “Just be yourself, mate. If she can see the real you, I think you’ll be just fine.”

As George nodded, ready to head back to his garage, a newfound determination surged within him. . . .

George Russell leaned against the cool metal of his car, the adrenaline still pulsing through his veins like the roaring engines that surrounded him.

He had just experienced a whirlwind of a race, finishing in second place—a personal victory, considering the challenges of the season.

As he peeled his helmet off and wiped the sweat from his brow, he locked eyes with his teammate, Lewis Hamilton, who grinned with pride.

"Not half bad for a young gun, eh?" Lewis teased, clapping George on the shoulder.

The camaraderie they shared gleamed like the trophy that would soon be presented to the race's champion—theirs was a friendship forged in the heat of competition.

"Better than I expected," George replied, his voice laced with uncertainty. While the roar of applause from the crowd filled the air, George could only think of one thing: you.

George had hoped you would be there to witness his triumph, to celebrate the moment that felt like it had been carved out just for him.

Tonight marked a holiday celebration that provided the perfect opportunity for the team to let loose, and Lewis was determined that George would join in the festivities.

"Time to celebrate, mate! You need to unwind."

George sighed, running his fingers through his tousled hair. "I don't know, Lewis. Maybe I should just head home."

Lewis shook his head vigorously, his face alight with mischief. "No way! I’m inviting you to our little soiree. Get ready—you need to dress for the occasion!"

Before George could protest, Lewis dragged him to the team's hotel. A little while later, George found himself staring at the mirror, adjusting a fitted black t-shirt and tailored trousers that felt disconcertingly foreign on him.

It wasn't his usual racing attire, and it certainly didn't feel like something you would want to see him in.

"What if my sister comes and you look like a runaway groom?” Lewis quipped, laughing as he helped George complete his look. “She hates it when guys dress too formally.”

The playful jab made George forget his reservations momentarily. “Alright, alright. You win. But if she laughs at me, I’m blaming you.”

“Perfect! Let’s bring on the night!” Lewis said, grabbing George's shoulder enthusiastically as they headed toward the club, their laughter echoing down the hallway.

When they entered the venue, the bass from the music thrummed through George’s chest. Familiar faces filled the space—Charles, Lando, Carlos, and other drivers were scattered throughout, already in vibrant spirits.

A few cheers erupted the moment George and Lewis stepped into the atmosphere of celebration.

"George! He finally shows!" Lando shouted, raising a drink in acknowledgment. George waved back, but a piece of him felt distant amidst the noise.

The pounding music blended with raucous laughter, but amidst the revelry, George's thoughts remained fixed on you.

As if sensing George's distraction, Lewis clapped a hand on his back, leaning in closely to shout over the music. “How’s it feel to be a podium finisher?”

“Great! But I don’t know... It would be better if you-know-who were here,” he admitted, keeping his tone light, yet tinged with sincerity.

Lewis raised an eyebrow knowingly. “You’re still hung up on her, huh?”

“C’mon, she should have been here to celebrate.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself! Come on, let’s find you someone to cheer you up!”

Before George could respond, a young woman, strikingly beautiful with warm eyes and an inviting smile, approached him. “Hey George! Wanna party with me?” she said, her lips curving in a playful manner.

George hesitated, a knot forming in his chest at the prospect. She was gorgeous, no doubt, but all he could think about was you—how much he missed your laughter, your warmth, and the effortless way you lit up a room.

“Thanks, but I think I’m just going to sit this one out,” he said politely, offering her a smile even if his heart wasn’t in it.

He turned away and made his way to the bar, needing a moment to collect himself. The bartender raised an eyebrow as George ordered a drink, and as he took a sip, he swore he could almost feel the tension release… but it didn’t work.

Instead, all he felt was a longing tugging at his heart, reminding him of the vacant space left by your absence.

George nursed what was supposed to be a single drink. But suddenly, what began with one drink turned into three, and now the room was spinning as he clutched the table for stability.

He chuckled nervously, acknowledging how quick he was to forget the limits he set for himself.

“Just one more sip, and I’ll head out,” he muttered to himself, yet deep down, he felt the pull of the crowd, the booming music, the laughter that was too easy to lose himself in.

But as he stood to leave, the earth shifted beneath him. He wobbled precariously, a laugh escaping his lips when he felt a warm presence wrap around him.

“Woah, Georgie! Let’s not fall now!” The voice was melodic. It sounded like you—the very essence he had been searching for on a night filled with hollow connections.

He turned slowly, squinting against the neon lights, and was met with a face that mirrored yours. Same bright eyes, same hair that danced whimsically with every sway of her body.

Was he delusional?

“You look just like her,” he slurred, momentarily forgetting his desire to escape.

“Let’s get you some fresh air, okay, Georgie?” she said, her hand still clasping his arm with a gentle but firm grip. He couldn’t muster a response; he simply nodded, following her through the throngs of dancing bodies until the blaring music was a distant thrum.

Once outside, the crisp night air hit him, refreshing but still dizzying. She led him to a bench in a shadowed corner, shielded from the rest of the clubgoers.

“Come sit over here so no one sees us,” she said, patting the surface beside her.

George obeyed, sitting down heavily as he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He stared at the woman beside him for what felt like minutes, captivated by her resemblance to you—your features, your voice.

Every detail seemed to stitch his heartstrings tighter, tugging at the loneliness that lingered like an unwanted guest.

“Oh Georgie, why are you crying?” she asked, her voice full of concern as she reached out to wipe a tear that had escaped the confines of his drunken haze.

“I miss her,” he muttered, leaning into her soft touch. He couldn’t believe he was pouring his heart out to a stranger, yet it felt inexplicably right and terrifyingly real.

“Who?” she asked gently, coaxing the truth from behind his barriers of inebriation.

“Y/N,” he admitted, not catching the way her breath hitched at the sound of your name.

“Is she that important to you?” Her voice was soft, almost like a whisper engulfed in their little cocoon of semi-darkness.

He nodded quickly, the gesture almost frantic. “She was everything… and I was nothing, I really messed up,” he confessed, tears emerging anew as he dove into memories of laughter, late-night conversations, and the electricity that sparked every time you smiled at him.

Sensing his vulnerability, the woman shifted closer, her hand delicately resting on his forearm.

“Tell me how you messed it up, George. Maybe it’ll help,” she encouraged, her eyes reflecting understanding that was almost uncanny.

“I—” he started, the words fumbling in his mind but finally tumbling out. “I was always too focused on racing. I was so caught up in being this driver that everyone would love and I lost sight of the love I had always wanted. I thought she’d always be there, that I could ask her to be mine one day.”

The woman bit her lip, absorbing his words. “Sometimes we don’t realize what we might have until it’s gone,” she replied softly, a note of sadness tainting her voice.

“I’ve reaching out, but it feels like there’s this wall between us now, one I built up without even knowing,” he continued, his heart racing with equal parts regret and hope.

“I miss her laugh, the way she could find joy in the simplest of things. I miss…” His voice trailed off as he blinked back more tears.

“Love is powerful, Georgie,” she said, her gaze unwavering. “You need to fight for it.”

He turned to face her fully, the realization hitting him like a pit stop at full speed. This woman could not only have been a reflection of his heartache, but perhaps also the voice that pushed him to find clarity.

“But what if she doesn’t want me?”

“Then you’ll have to accept that, but you haven’t even tried yet, have you?” she challenged gently, her expression earnest. “You’ll never know unless you do.”

George inhaled deeply, the words resonating within him. Maybe this stranger—this woman who wore your likeness—was simply a guiding light.

“Georgie, listen to me,” she said, squeezing his arm gently. “You have to reach out before it’s too late. Don’t let fear hold you back.”

As the night wore on, he felt the weight of the world lessen just a tad. The fire in his heart reignited, and he made up his mind. He would call you, declare what he could no longer hide.

“Thank you,” he whispered, looking into her eyes that held so much warmth and wisdom.

"You're welcome Georgie," she said, bringing him into a warm hug which also reminded him of you. . .

George Russell groaned as sunlight streamed through the curtains, each ray piercing into his consciousness like tiny needles. Rubbing his temples, he tried to dispel the pounding headache that greeted him with cold indifference.

He glanced around the room, finding a stark contrast between the chaotic remnants of a night perhaps too wild for a professional Formula 1 driver and the calming colors of his well-organized space.

The clothes he had worn the night before were folded neatly on his desk—a testament to a gradual descent into maturity, or perhaps just a diligent hotel staff.

For a fleeting moment, he contemplated the irony of being a high-speed driver yet feeling this slow and uncoordinated.

Then, his phone buzzed like a mosquito in the dead of night, drawing his attention. A text from Lewis griped his curiosity: "Hey George, apparently Y/N was in town. Did you see her?"

George’s heart dropped into his stomach. Y/N?

The name echoed in his mind, accompanied by fragmented images of the previous night—a soft laugh, the swish of a black dress, and a set of mesmerizing eyes that had entranced him even as the liquor clouded his memories.

He cursed under his breath. She had been delightful company, and it gnawed at him that he couldn’t remember every detail.

He was too drunk. Too engrossed in the moment. Was she the stranger from last night, or just a fleeting wind?

He could almost hear Lewis’ voice in his head: You need to get your act together, George. You’re a professional, remember?

Ignoring the nagging voice, he replied to Lewis, "No, I didn’t see her. Things got a bit out of hand last night."

As he sat up, still groggy from sleep, he stared at the wall, deliberating over how he had ended up in his pajamas, yet again.

“Hangover bunks,” he mumbled to himself. “Last night was intense.”

With a sigh, George tossed his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching as he surveyed the mess around him.

Despite it being a day off, his thoughts were far from the circuit and more focused on the woman he couldn't seem to shake from his mind: you.

“Focus, Russell,” he muttered. “This isn’t about you today.”

He hastily made his way to the bathroom, where he turned on the shower. The hot water felt fantastic against his skin, washing away the remnants of the previous night's events.

He found his mind drifting to the way you had smiled at him, how your expressive eyes sparkled under the sunlight, how the world around you seemed to fade away when you spoke.

George didn’t realize he was smiling in the shower until he caught a glimpse of his reflection. Flushing, he mentally slapped himself.

“There’s enough pressure today without thinking about… her,” he chastised, but in truth, the thoughts wrapped around his mind like a twisted tire, always returning to you.

Rinsing off, he dedicated himself to his skin care routine, that brief moment of self-care morphing into an involuntary meditation over the more meaningful moments shared with you.

As he applied moisturizer, each swipe was a daydream filled with giggles and shared glances, the feelings dancing just beyond his grasp.

Despite military-style discipline on track and media channels, his heart raced more for you than any car he’d ever driven.

George stood before the mirror in his apartment, adjusting the collar of his light blue button-up shirt. The sun streamed through the window, illuminating the polished floor, and as he ran a hand through his hair, he thought about how long it had been since he last saw his family.

The whirlwind of racing circuits, late-night parties, and media commitments had left little room for moments that mattered. Today, however, he decided to change all that.

Breakfast with the family seemed more necessary than ever, so he slipped into a comfortable pair of dark jeans and polished off his look with fresh sneakers.

His family home was situated just outside of town—a charming two-story house filled with memories that flooded back with every step he took toward it.

George felt a familiar buzz in his chest, a blend of excitement and apprehension, as he reached the door and knocked.

“George!” Alison exclaimed as she swung open the door, her face lighting up with warmth and happiness. “Look at you! Come in, come in!”

“Hi Mom!” He embraced her lightly, still cautious after the night before where he had indulged a little too much at a celebratory party. “Is Dad here?”

“He’s in the kitchen with Benji,” she motioned toward the heart of the home, a space filled with the mouthwatering smell of pancakes and crispy bacon. “Cara’s still getting ready.”

As he entered the kitchen, the sight of his father, Steve, flipping pancakes was a comforting reminder of all the mornings spent devouring breakfast together as a family.

Benji, with his youthful enthusiasm, was leaning against the counter, arms crossed and a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence!” Steve called out teasingly without turning around.

“Very funny, Dad,” George replied, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a grin. “I was just busy winning races and celebrating my victories, you know?”

“Celebrating a bit too hard, I hear?” Benji raised an eyebrow, smirking knowingly. “You were looking a bit worse for wear yesterday on the media feeds.”

“Oh, come on! I had a couple of drinks,” George shrugged, trying to shrug off the mockery. “It was nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“So you claim.” Benji snickered, settling back down on a stool at the kitchen island as George poured himself a cup of coffee. “But really, man, what’s up with you? You’re more moody than usual—don’t try to say it’s just the fatigue of being an F1 driver. You know we’ve seen a different side of you.”

As they ate breakfast, the laughter and chatter wove seamlessly through the small kitchen. George was content just to be around them; the little quirks and affectionate jabs felt like home.

Jokes were told, stories were shared, and for a moment, everything felt normal again.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Alison asked with her gentle smile, genuinely curious about his schedule as she placed a fresh stack of pancakes on the table.

“Honestly? I just wanted some family time,” George admitted, a flush tracing his cheeks. “I’m still living out of a suitcase, my schedule is crazy, and I miss you guys. Just needed this.”

The conversations gradually shifted from the racing world to memories of childhood, and George sat back, letting the familiar warmth take over him. Yet, even amidst the laughter, he couldn’t shake the thought of you.

Your smile had become his driving force lately, the light that punctuated the chaos around him. But every time he allowed himself to dwell on you, a layer of embarrassment washed over him.

As if sensing his distraction, Benji slid into the seat next to him, nudging him playfully. “So what lucky lady is running ‘round your mind, mate? Or is it still Y/N stuck in your head?”

George jumped, caught off guard. “What? No way!” His denial came out too sharp, and he immediately regretted it as the teasing glint in Benji's eyes grew brighter.

“Come on, bro, I’ve seen how you look at her,” Benji said with a chuckle. “You’re gonna have to stop denying it sooner or later.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I just…think she’s really cool or something.” George tried to save face but was only met with knowing expressions from the whole table.

“You’re blushing, George,” Cara chimed in as she strolled into the kitchen. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and she carried herself with an unhurried grace. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing much,” Benji replied with a grin that hinted at his amusement. “Just George being shy about his potentially crippling crush.”

“Whatever!” George exclaimed, hiding his face behind his hands as warmth cascaded down his cheeks. “You guys are ridiculous!”

“Hey, it’s just us,” Alison said softly, overjoyed at the candidness, even if it came with a bit of teasing. “If you like her, it’s great! You should tell her how you feel.”

“I don’t even know if she feels the same way,” George replied, desperate now to change the subject. “But we’ve just been…friends, you know?”

“Well, sometimes you have to take risks, son,” Steve chimed in, his voice steady and reassuring. “Life is too short to hold back on what could be something special.”

The conversation changed topics, but George's mind raced back to the allure of what could have been. He felt the weight of his family's expectations and hope.

It was new… this desire to open his heart to someone beyond the racetrack.

As breakfast wrapped up, George found himself distracted again, daydreaming about you, thinking of how he could break the casual barrier between just friends and potentially something more.

The heartfelt banter of family lingered in the air, but as he slipped into the warmth of nostalgia, he realized that in whatever direction life took him—whether he was conquering the circuits or fighting for love—family would always anchor him, grounding his ambitions in the realm of the heart.

With a gentle nudge from Benji, reminding him that life is fleeting, George resolved to take a chance when it came to you.

The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows over the family home as George finished his late afternoon workout. The aroma of his mother's famous chicken alfredo wafted through the kitchen, mingling with the scents of garlic and herbs.

As he entered the dining room, the laughter of his siblings—Cara and Benji—echoed off the walls. Their noise was a welcome distraction, but today, George could hardly shake the thoughts swarming in his mind, particularly the thought of you.

“So George, what would you want for your birthday?” his mother, Alison, asked as she dished up the alfredo, her eyes bright with excitement.

“I don’t really need anything,” George replied casually, forcing a smile, but his thoughts drifted once more to you.

“Come on, at least think of something,” Cara chimed in, her bright eyes sparkling with mischief. “How about a new racing suit? I hear they could use some updates.”

George chuckled, shaking his head. “I'm fine with what I have. Really, I’m just happy to spend the day with you guys.” Lying was a skill he had mastered well as a race car driver, but today it felt heavier than usual.

Benji, ever the inquisitive one, nudged him playfully. “Really? Not even a new car? You know, maybe this time, something that goes faster than a snail?” He burst into laughter, and soon the others joined in.

Their playful banter felt comforting, a light fabric draped over the layer of tension woven into his heart. George broke bread with his family, occasionally laughing at their jokes.

“Okay, George," Steve finally spoke up, his father’s tone a mix of authority and affection. "If you truly don’t want anything, how about a day at the go-kart track this weekend? Just the family. No fans, no pressure. Just us.”

His father’s eyes were warm, radiating the kind of understanding that came from years of navigating the complexities of family life.

George loved the suggestion—spending time with his family without the trappings of his racing career—but a part of him felt guilty for wanting something more than just this tight-knit gathering.

“Sure, that sounds great! I just need to clear it with my team, but I’d love that.”

Alison smiled and carefully placed a hand on his arm. "You know we’re proud of you, love. Just don’t forget to breathe once in a while. Life’s not just about the fast corners and tight turns.”

He met her gaze, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for her unwavering support. “Thanks, Mum. I appreciate it.”

After dinner, the family split up—Steve and Alison went to the living room to discuss weekend plans while Cara and Benji challenged each other to a board game in the adjoining room.

George found himself standing outside for a moment, the cool evening air bringing him a sense of clarity.

He leaned against the porch railing, staring at the stars emerging against the deepening twilight. The sky, a blanket of possibilities, made him think of you and how special you made him feel.

Just as he opened his phone, eager to see if you had messaged him since they last spoke, his thoughts were interrupted by Cara’s voice calling out.

“Hey, George! Come play!” She tugged at him, not realizing he was lost in thought.

He smiled and gave a small wave, reluctantly putting his phone away.

It was easy to get immersed in the game, to enjoy the competitive spirit that thrummed through their laughter—yet, every moment seemed to pale in comparison to the connection he felt with you. . . .

The air was thick with the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline, a sensation that George Russell had long ago come to associate with the thrill of racing.

The vibrant colors of the paddock seemed to pulse under the Mediterranean sun as he wandered through the area, lingering a bit too long at the sight of the cars glinting under the sun.

He had just returned from a brief holiday with his family – an exhilarating few days spent go-karting at a private circuit that had reminded him of his roots.

He could still hear the laughter of his siblings, Cara and Benji, and his parents, Alison and Steve, echoing in his ears.

George, ever the competitive spirit, zoomed past his family members, reveling in the thrill of victory as he crossed the finish line.

“First place, as usual!” he declared with a playful smirk painted on his face, lifting his helmet to the cheers from his family.

“The only reason you win is because you’re the only one who takes it seriously!” Cara laughed, tossing her hair in a mock gesture of frustration. “How convenient that the racing driver is racing!”

“Someone has to keep this family in line. Besides, I’m just showing you guys how it’s done!” he shot back, ruffling Benji’s hair as he walked by, eliciting a squeal of protest.

As their laughter echoed around the circuit, George felt a rare lightness.

It reminded him of carefree days before the bright lights of the paddock overshadowed everything; days filled with family and simplicity.

But the holiday had waned quickly, and soon, the thrill of Formula 1 would call him back.

It was Thursday, the day of calm before the storm of race week. George meandered through the complex, past various teams—crewmembers bustling about, preparing for another race.

The atmosphere felt electric, but his mind drifted back to the previous week's bliss with his family.

As he sauntered, he overheard the voices of two men, each seemingly oblivious to the world around them. Curiosity piqued, George positioned himself closer, intending only to eavesdrop briefly.

“I remember when Y/N came over to me and showed me around. I swear Mercedes uses her to get more fans. She’s so pretty for a whore!” one of them laughed, the words dripping with contempt.

“Yeah, she did the same with me. To be honest, I only came to see her, but she hasn’t been here in months. I wish she gave me a performance, that slut.” The other man joined in, his tone equally disdainful.

He felt a swell of anger—with no outlet in sight, anger was all the more potent. He clenched his fists, the muscles in his arms tightening as he fought back the urge to confront them, the response simmering just below the surface.

He could visualize the headlines in his mind already: “George Russell Loses His Cool!” and he couldn’t allow that. Not here.

“Is that why you left?” he thought sadly, memories of you stinging his heart involuntarily.

“Hey, you guys want to keep it to yourselves?” George said, stepping forward, his voice cool but eyes blazing.

The two celebrities turned, surprise washing over their faces, and then derision. “What’s the matter, George? Can't handle a little talk?” One of them sneered, crossing his arms as if to project power.

“I just think it’s pathetic,” he replied, his anger simmering, careful not to escalate the situation while still making his point. “You’re just proving how small you really are, talking about someone who’s so much better than you’ll ever be.”

With that, he turned sharply on his heel and walked away, the adrenaline pumping through him, the conversations of others muffled by the growing storm in his mind.

He didn’t want to feel possessive over you, but that was almost impossible when he witnessed so many men trivializing your worth.

He would make sure that those two were banned from the paddock by the time you came back.

The rest of the day wore on, yet George felt the tension deep inside him.

By that evening, he found himself sitting in a quiet corner of the paddock, contemplating his next few days, trying to push away the bitterness of the day.

George’s phone buzzed unexpectedly in the pocket of his racing suit. He hesitated for a moment, torn between professionalism and curiosity.

He finally glanced at the screen; it was you. Your name lit up like a beacon of hope amidst the pre-race chaos.

“Hey, Georgie!” you said cheerfully when he answered, your voice cutting through his anxiety.

“Hey Y/N,” George replied, his brow furrowing slightly at the unexpected call. “What’s up? Watching the race?”

“I just wanted to tell you that on live television, you look like you’re about to beat someone up. So cheer up before there’s another rumor,” you teased, laughter dancing in your tone.

George looked up instinctively, eyes darting to the camera that had been trained on him moments before. He quickly realized that the camera was still aimed at him, trapping him in his moment of serious concentration.

He instinctively smiled, waving at the camera, which quickly shifted to another driver.

“Thanks, Y/N. Are you really watching the race now?” he asked, curiosity swirling in his chest.

“Of course! I’ve always been watching the races, Georgie. I have to support my favorite driver one way or another,” you replied, the sincerity in your voice unmistakable.

His heart raced faster, not just from the anticipation of the race ahead, but from the warmth of your words.

Your voice lingered in his thoughts, making him feel lighter and more buoyant. “Do you have your lucky charm with you?” he asked, shifting the conversation.

“Of course! I still have the tiny figurine of you from the last race at Silverstone. It brought you good luck, didn’t it?” you wittily remarked.

He chuckled, “Well, let’s hope it works its magic again. The last one wasn’t so bad, thanks to you,”

As he navigated through the twists and turns of the race, George couldn’t help but imagine you cheering from the stands. He could almost picture you, hair blowing in the wind, laughing and shouting for him.

It fueled him, a burst of energy propelling him forward through the tight corners.

“Are you keeping your eyes on the track, smart guy?” you teased, snapping him back into the present.

“Always! I’m in fourth place in the championship—just trying to keep my head in the game. You’re distracting me,” he admitted with a hint of a smile.

“Distraction isn’t always a bad thing, though. Just think of me as your good luck charm.”

“How’d I get so lucky?” he said, slyly.

“Mmm, I don’t know — maybe it’s my irresistible charm,” you quipped back, your playful banter continuing even as the race progressed.

George took a deep breath, eyes laser-focused on the road ahead. He could see the leading cars weaving around each other—an intricate dance of speed and precision.

But who else could mirror that thrill of competition but you?

George had always been the quiet type, the kind of man who found solace in solitude but who also longed for the warmth of another soul—the warmth of your soul.

It had been two years since he last laid eyes on you, since he had held you in his arms like you were the very air he breathed.

The distance between you felt almost unbearable after being stitched with frequent calls and video chats, allowing him to hear your laughter and see your smile, but still leaving him hungry for the presence he had once taken for granted.

He missed everything about you: the way your laughter danced in the air, filling the empty spaces around him with joy, and the sharp, floral scent that clung to your skin—a delicate reminder of the beauty you exuded.

He often found himself lost in thought, contemplating the contours of your face, eager to memorize each line and perfectly imperfect feature once more.

How could distance feel this heavy when they shared a bond that had once tethered your hearts together so tightly?

It was a Friday afternoon when George found himself in a familiar café that he used to visit with you. The place smelled of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries, the air buzzing with quiet chatter and laughter—yet it felt devoid of life without you beside him.

He absentmindedly stirred his coffee, giving in to the memories flooding his mind. A couple at the corner table laughed, and for a moment, it felt like you were there, your amber laugh reverberating in his heart.

They've talked about their weeks, shared the minutiae of their lives—your tales of new places you visited, his stories of late-night work grinding—but sometimes, beneath the surface of your conversation flowed the unspoken truth of your hearts.

Despite all this, he couldn’t shake off that familiar desire for something more tangible, more real. One could only drown in the virtual so long before gasping for the realness of pure, unfiltered presence.

For weeks, George and you had been discussing his birthday, a date he held dear. He had never been one for grand celebrations—his family had always kept things simple, focusing on the quiet joys of life rather than loud revelries.

He had looked forward to spending this birthday with you, perhaps sharing a cupcake at their favorite café or taking a long stroll under the stars.

Yet, as the day drew closer, he sensed a distance growing between them, a subtle divide that gnawed at his heart.

“I really want to see you,” he said the last time they spoke.

You had chuckled, but your laughter was tinged with an undercurrent of regret. “I wish I could, George. I’ll definitely call you on your birthday, though. That’s a promise.”

He had nodded, trying to be understanding, but the thought of spending his birthday without you left him feeling strangely adrift.

He understood that life could get hectic, but part of him wished you could understand how much he cherished your companionship, especially on a day that felt so significant to him.

George stood outside his parents' home, his heart racing. It was his birthday, and while he had envisioned a peaceful day celebrating with just a few close friends, his family evidently had a different idea.

As he knocked on the door, he took a moment to straighten his shirt, a navy blue one he had borrowed from Lando’s closet a few weeks earlier.

“Hey George! Happy birthday!” His mother, Alison, flung the door open, her bright smile lighting up the dim hallway. She drew him into a warm embrace, her familiar scent making him feel comforted despite his growing apprehension about the day ahead.

“Thanks, Mum,” George said, returning the hug graciously before stepping inside. As he crossed the threshold, he was greeted by the sounds of laughter and chatter filling the living room—a cacophony of friends and family mingling in celebration.

“Happy birthday!” the chorus rang out, friends and family alike raising their glasses in unison. The sheer number of faces surprised him, but what caught his eye was an unexpected figure among them.

“Hey George!” Lando chimed in, appearing out of the crowd with a cheerful grin plastered on his face.

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a beautifully wrapped gift, handing it over with an exaggerated flourish. “For you, mate. I hope it’s as amazing as you are!”

“Thanks, Lando,” George replied, holding the gift carefully as he looked at the whimsical wrapping. “You know I didn’t want anyone to make a big deal out of today.”

“Well, too bad. Your family thinks you deserve a big bash, and I agree!” Lando’s eyes twinkled mischievously, but George couldn’t help but feel a warm glow at being surrounded by friends.

“You didn’t have to come, you know,” George teased back, scrutinizing the package in his hands.

“Oh, but I did,” Lando said dramatically. “Besides, I brought you something that’s definitely not small—just like your party!”

George rolled his eyes playfully but felt gratitude wash over him. His friends were his anchor, especially Lando. Before he could get any deeper into thought, Cara, his sister walked into the room.

“Happy birthday, George!” she said, handing him a present as well.

“Thanks, Cara!” he laughed, accepting the card and marveling at its haphazard charm.

“Can’t wait for you to be added into the ‘old age’ groupchat,” she quipped, winking at him.

George chuckled, feeling the familiar banter that grounded him. Despite the overwhelming party atmosphere, moments like these made him feel at home.

His father, Steve, emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “George! Happy birthday!” His dad clapped him on the back, a grin stretching across his face. “Alison made your favorite—lasagna! And the cake is a surprise.”

George felt his stomach flutter at the thought. His parents had taken such care to prepare everything, and for a fleeting moment, the earlier dread of a party dwindled, replaced by a sense of appreciation.

“This is a great party, Dad,” George admitted. “But really, you could have let me plan something smaller.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Steve replied, feigning innocence. “Now, come on! Let’s get this party started!”

As the evening wore on, George found himself at the center of attention. Friends returned from the buffet table back to him, drinks filled with laughter and jokes.

Among them was Alex, who came striding across the room with his signature confidence.

“Happy birthday, mate! Ready to get older?” Alex flashed a smirk that matched his casual tone.

“With your banter, I’ll feel ancient by the time this is over,” George shot back, good-naturedly punching Alex’s arm.

As the festivities continued, George finally found a moment to settle into a quieter corner with Lando. “So… what’s in the box?” he asked, nodding toward the carefully wrapped gift.

“You really want to know?” Lando leaned in, the playful grin returning. “Okay, but it’s a secret. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Promise, just show me.” George couldn’t hide his curiosity any longer.

Lando tore the paper off with excitement to reveal a high-performance gaming console. “I thought you might enjoy something new to blow off some steam between races!”

“Lando, this is amazing! But you didn’t have to go all out,” George said, his grin widening with genuine surprise.

“Of course I did! You deserve it. Besides, now you’ll finally let me win at video games,” Lando chuckled, nudging him playfully.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the backyard where the party was in full swing. Laughter mingled with the chatter of cars racing around the circuit, and the enticing aroma of grilled burgers filled the air.

Yet, as George stood near the brightly colored table overflowing with gifts, he couldn’t shake the emptiness gnawing at his heart.

He smiled at Lando, who was animatedly recounting a wild karting story, but his thoughts were somewhere else—outside the boundaries of this cheerful gathering.

His mind wandered to you, the one person he had secretly hoped would show up, despite knowing you wouldn’t be there.

“I swear, I was like a ghost out there,” Lando laughed, mimicking how he’d crashed into the barriers last weekend. Everyone erupted into laughter, but George found it hard to join in.

He picked at the icing on the cake, wishing it could somehow conjure thoughts of you instead.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, mate. Everyone knows you’ve got the skills,” Alex said, slapping Lando on the back.

“Yeah, man! Maybe one day you’ll get a chance to drive for real,” Lewis chimed in. The good-natured ribbing continued, but George felt more and more like an outsider.

His phone buzzed in his pocket—just a notification from a group chat. He swiped it away, already knowing it wouldn't be from you.

“Earth to George!” Lando waved a hand in front of him, snapping him out of his reverie. “You good, mate? You've been kinda quiet.”

“Oh, yeah. Just thinking,” George replied, forcing a smile. The rest of the crowd had congregated to discuss the upcoming F1 season.

They analyzed teams, speculated who would dominate, and recounted past races as if recounting epic tales from a shared history.

With a heavy heart, George pulled his phone out, staring at the blank screen. He had sent you a message earlier in the day, but there had been no reply.

He tried to brush it off—maybe you were busy—but deep down, the ache remained.

“George!” Cara's voice broke through his thoughts. “Are you going to open your presents or what?”

“Yeah, I’ll get to them in a bit,” he replied, glancing at the colorful packages decorated with ribbons and bows. He wanted to open them, but a weight sat on his chest, tethering him to a world where you were missing, and nothing felt quite right.

There was a knock at the front door, but George didn’t pay much attention as Lewis, his older brother, ambled over to answer it. The chatter of their family echoed around him, a thick tapestry of warmth and laughter that felt alien.

George’s thoughts drifted; all he could focus on was the memory of you—the way you laughed, how your eyes sparkled when you talked about your dreams, and the way everything felt right when you were around.

“Hey, George!” Cara chirped, breaking his reverie, waving at him with excitement. “Open my gift!”

He offered her a weak smile, still lost in his own world. As he finally picked up a present wrapped in shiny paper from her, he felt a sense of heaviness lift, if only temporarily.

Unwrapping it, he revealed a gleaming silver watch that seemed to catch the light and dazzle.

“Oh thanks, sis,” he said, genuinely trying to summon enthusiasm. However, as he glanced up to thank her, he noticed that Cara's attention, along with the rest of the room, was drawn to something behind him.

Curiosity tugged at him, and he turned around slowly.

Standing just inside the doorway, illuminated by the soft glow from the hall lights, was you. A tired smile played across your face, but it was unmistakably you.

His breath hitched in his throat as he took in the sight of you—the way your braids cascaded around your shoulders, framing your face, just as he remembered.

“Happy birthday—!” you began, but before the excitement of your return could fully settle in, George dropped the watch onto the table and rushed toward you.

He enveloped you in his arms, lifting you off the ground as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the familiar scent he had missed for years.

You felt warm against him, as if the distance of the past few years hadn’t existed. The world around him faded, and in that moment, it was just the two of you.

“It’s really you,” he muttered, half in disbelief.

“It’s really me,” you replied softly, squeezing him tighter as if you were afraid he’d let go and vanish again. “I missed you so much.”

“Me too,” he said, pulling back just enough to analyze your face. His ocean eyes, alive with wonder, traced the contours of your cheeks.

You could see the spark of recognition flaring in his gaze as he took in the changes—your brown braids, longer now and cascading over your shoulders like caramel waterfalls, framing your face.

Your cheeks were fuller, your eyes a deeper shade of warmth, enhanced by the quiet confidence that had grown in the time you had spent apart. You wore a radiant smile, one he had missed more than he could ever express.

“You’ve gotten prettier,” he noted, almost as if he couldn’t believe his words, a shy smile creeping onto his lips.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling heat rise to your cheeks, the compliment unfurling something warm and bubbly within you. “I guess time can be kind in some ways.”

“Or cruel,” Lewis quipped from the other side of the living room, rolling his eyes with a teasing smirk on his face. “Right guys! Why don’t you get a room after everyone leaves?”

His laughter rang out, piercing the moment like a bubble popping, but it only made the warmth between you and George swell.

“Shut up, Lewis!” you shot back, playfully swatting at him, though there was no real malice in your tone.

Alison was setting the table in the background, chuckling softly at Lewis' antics.

“You should let them have their moment, Lewis. Two years is a long time to be apart,” she remarked, casting a knowing glance towards you and George, whose cheek was now tinged with a shade of red.

“Yeah, it is,” George added, his voice softer now.

The light banter and teasing faded into the background as the reality of the years apart seeped back into the room, reminding you both of everything that had happened.

“Best birthday gift ever,” he muttered for only you to hear, his voice laced with a mix of sincerity and sweetness. You giggled, the sound a little breathless.

“Since when have you been so bold?” you teased, leaning closer to him across the table. “The Georgie I remember used to be so shy of me.”

“Things change, you know?” George shrugged, though a sheepish grin danced on his lips. “Some of us grew up. And besides, it’s hard to be shy when you have someone worth being bold for.”

Your heart fluttered even more at his words, and you felt the heat rise in your own cheeks. “Well, maybe I was just waiting for you to catch up,” you shot back, attempting to maintain your composure. “It only took two years, but here we are.”

“Two years was rough,” he replied earnestly. “I mean, who knew how hard it would be? I missed your jokes, your laughter. You always knew how to make everything better.”

And just like that, the conversation turned into something deeper, filled with unspoken feelings and lingering glances.

You and George had shared countless moments over the years—playful arguments, late-night chats, and the comforting silence that only came from being around someone you genuinely cared for.

Alison cleared her throat, cutting through the burgeoning tension. “Alright, lovebirds, while you two are busy contemplating the meaning of life, how about we celebrate George’s birthday? I brought candles!”

You both jumped slightly, like deer caught in the headlights, as Alison revealed the large cake decorated with the bold letters “Happy Birthday, Georgie.”

The lightheartedness was a welcome distraction, allowing you to shake off the moment of vulnerability.

���I can’t believe they managed to get my nickname on it,” George said, staring at the cake in disbelief.

“Of course they did. I made sure to keep that tradition alive, along with picking your favorite cake,” you grinned, feeling a rush of satisfaction.

“You helped?” he asked, astonished, raising one eyebrow in that way that you always found charming.

“Couldn’t let my best friend have an average birthday cake, now could I? I had to make it special,” you replied, leaning back against him.

“Come on, son, blow it out!” she called, carrying the cake as if it were the crown jewel. The candles flickered, waiting for George's breath to extinguish them.

You quickly moved out of the way, wanting to ensure that everyone got the perfect shot of George, the birthday king. Just as you were about to slip away, George’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back into place.

“Stay, I don’t want you to run again,” he muttered against the top of your head, his voice low and warm.

You pouted slightly, playfully nudging him again. “I won’t run, but you do realize it’s your birthday, right? Shouldn’t we be getting you to center stage?”

“Not without you,” he insisted, his grip tightening just a little. “Plus, you make me look good.”

“Oh come on,” you laughed, your heart racing in the way it always did when he held you close. “You’re practically a supermodel next to me.”

Alison stood expectantly in front of you two, the cake reflecting the sunlight. “What are you two lovebirds doing back there? Come on, the world needs to see this stunning cake and its dashing contender!”

You stepped in front of the cake, and George followed suit, his hand never leaving your waist. The cake was a masterpiece, layers of chocolate stacked high, adorned with colorful frosting and surrounded by sparklers.

It demanded attention, and everyone moved in closer.

“Blow it with me?” George asked when the spotlight was finally on him, a charming grin illuminating his face.

Your heart raced at the suggestion, warmth flooding through you again as you took a moment to gather your courage.

You smiled, nodding. “Anything for the birthday boy.”

“Alright, everyone!” Alison called out, raising her hands like a conductor ready to lead an orchestra. “On the count of three! One… two… three!”

“3, 2, 1!” the crowd yelled in unison, and your breath hitched as George turned to you, his eyes brimming with exhilaration.

In perfect sync, you both leaned forward and blew out the candles, the flames extinguished with a puff of laughter, cheers erupting around you.

That moment was magic— the noise faded, and for just a heartbeat, it felt like it was just you and George, suspended in time.

“Make a wish,” you whispered, your heart racing. “But I don’t think it can come true if you’re going to keep holding on to me like this,” you added playfully.

“I have everything I need right here,” he quipped with a wink, drawing soft laughter from your lips, but inside, you felt something deeper.

After the cake was cut, the room began to dissolve into familiar pockets of conversation and laughter, filling the air with voices both soothing and celebratory.

You found yourself catching up with Lando and Alex, the three of you reminiscing about old times while trying to vouch for who had the craziest stories involving the birthday boy.

Just as you were getting to the good part of a particularly funny story involving a mud pie and a runaway dog, you felt a familiar tap on your back. Turning around, you were met by George’s shy smile.

“Yes, Georgie?” you asked, unable to suppress the brightness in your voice.

“Can I have you for a second?” he replied, his words almost a plea.

You excused yourself, the curious gazes of your friends following as you stepped outside with George. The cool night air wrapped around you like a refreshing breeze, your heart beating a little faster in anticipation.

George reached for his suit blazer, his fingers brushing against your arm as he placed it over your shoulders, the fabric warm and intoxicating.

“Here, sit,” he said, guiding you to a pair of empty chairs on the patio. The stars shimmered overhead, their light casting a silver glow upon the garden.

“Thanks,” you smiled, settling into the chair, feeling the weight of his blazer envelop you like an embrace. You glanced back at the door, music and laughter faintly echoing inside.

After a brief pause, George leaned back, his gaze fixed on the stars with an intensity that made your pulse race. “You’re not getting away that easily tonight, you know?” he said, his voice soft, breaking the comfortable silence.

You smiled, playful. “Oh? What am I in for, then? A secret surprise?”

“Something like that.” He turned to you, his expression earnest. “I just wanted to talk, you know, without the noise.”

“Okay,” you replied, a slight tremor of excitement weaving through your words. “What’s on your mind?”

He paused for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “Can I ask where you’ve been for these two years?” The question hung in the air, almost palpable.

You knew he was going to ask this question, but not so soon, and his earnestness caught you off guard. A cocktail of old feelings bubbled up inside you, a mixture of nostalgia and trepidation.

“Yes, you can,” you began, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “I went to find my calling, and I did.” You could see his interest spark like fireflies in the dark, and it emboldened you to continue.

“I started a charity from scratch, without anyone knowing who I was, which was hard.”

“What kind of charity?” George leaned forward, his intensity growing as he focused on your words, pulling you in.

“It’s for at-risk youth—teaching them art and giving them a place to create without judgment. I wanted to give back in a way that could light up their lives, you know?”

“That’s incredible!” George’s eyes sparkled with admiration. “You’ve always had such a big heart. It must have been tough, though.”

“It was,” you admitted, a shadow sliding over your smile. “Finding the right people to trust in a world that’s sometimes cold and unwelcoming… it took time. But then someone found me.”

You paused dramatically, relishing in the curiosity that painted his expression. “And I did some modeling.”

“Modeling? You?” George chuckled, his laugh rich and melodic in the stillness. “That’s wild! But I can’t picture you strutting down a runway.”

You laughed lightly, the sound easing the knot in your chest. “Neither could I! But it was for charity, so it felt right. They let me use my platform to promote the awareness of youth issues. It became more than just about looks; it was about the message.”

George's brow furrowed in curiosity as he relaxed against the chair behind him, crossing his arms. “What kind of outfits are we talking about here? Like, designer pieces or…?”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you pulled out your phone. “Oh, you’ll see. Not exactly designer, more like a collection of ‘what was I thinking?’”

With a few taps, you flicked through the pictures, showcasing outfits that ranged from a bold royal gown to a muse pearl dress. “Here! Look at this one! I call it ‘A Colorful Catastrophe.’”

George burst into laughter, shaking his head. “You know, you could have just gone with your regular jeans and a t-shirt, but you chose to make a statement.”

“Yes! And they said it made a big impact, which is what I care about and I could keep some of the dresses too,” you said, your smile softening as you scrolled to the next picture.

“They’re being posted today, and however much it makes will go to the charity.”

George looked genuinely proud as his gaze shifted from the phone to your excited face. “So what's the name of this charity?”

You hesitated for a second, enjoying the suspense before delivering the punchline. “I’m glad you asked; it’s called Georgie.”

His eyes widened, and the laughter suddenly evaporated from the air. “You named it after me?” His voice was a mix of surprise and disbelief.

You nodded, your grin widening. “I didn’t have any names for it, so they said to name it something I care about. And that was you, so happy birthday, Georgie!”

George felt a strange warmth flood through him, almost overwhelming. He blinked back the sudden threat of tears. “Thank you,” he managed to say, placing a steady hand on your thigh as if trying to ground himself in the moment.

You smiled brightly, appreciating the bond that had grown between you over the years. “No problem! I forgot to mention the ridiculous pictures of you that are also getting posted, thanks to Lewis,” you giggled, already anticipating his reaction.

“Lewis?” His expression quickly morphed from touched to mortified. “What kind of ridiculous pictures? Please tell me they’re not the ones from the summer at the beach 3 years ago! You know that I was just being silly!”

“You mean the ones where you tried to do a backflip and ended up in the sand instead?” You laughed harder, clutching your stomach.

“Oh yes, those are definitely included! But wait until you see the one where you’re trying to get the seaweed off your shorts. Priceless.”

“You’re very lucky I love you,” he sighed, so softly that you almost missed it among the haze of laughter.

Both of you froze, caught off guard by the shift in atmosphere that hung in the air.

“Did you mean that?” you asked after an agonizingly long pause, your voice barely above a whisper.

George’s blue eyes widened, and for a split second, his expression was a mix of surprise and vulnerability. He nodded slowly, swallowing hard, his gaze dropping to the ground as if searching for answers in the fallen leaves.

“I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t plan to say it,” he trailed off, his voice hesitant and soft, almost as if he were afraid of how the truth would change everything.

You smiled, trying to ease the nervousness that had settled between you like an invisible barrier. “Never seen you look at me like that before, Georgie.”

His cheeks flushed slightly, the unmistakable hint of a blush creeping up his neck. “What do you mean? Like… what? How am I supposed to look at you?”

His sudden defensiveness sent a flicker of amusement through you, but you moved an inch closer, wanting to make the moment lighter, yet also more profound.

“Like it’s the first time you’ve really seen me,” you teased, watching as he avoided your eyes. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” you continued, the glint in your eye coaxing him back to the conversation.

“I—” George opened his mouth, then closed it as though battling with unspoken thoughts. “I… just thought I could keep things light between us. You know? Friends and all.”

“Friends?” you echoed, arching an eyebrow. “That’s a convenient excuse, isn’t it? Especially when I can see how much you want to kiss me.”

George’s breath hitched, a faint blush creeping back into his cheeks. But instead of stepping back into his comfort zone of playful banter, he shifted closer until there was barely any space left.

This was how your flirting had always worked—tease, blush, repeat—but something was different this time.

His hand moved from your thigh up to your waist, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of your dress, pulling you slightly toward him. You weren’t expecting that.

“I’m not the George from two years ago,” he muttered, his gaze locked onto yours, intense and searching. His voice was lower now, a tone that sent a shiver of excitement down your spine.

“Then prove it to me,” you teased back, though your heart raced at the challenge slipping from your lips.

In one swift move, he closed the distance and crashed his lips onto yours. It was a kiss fueled by two years’ worth of unspoken feelings, shared moments, and all the times you had skirted around this very confession.

Your heart soared as you melted into him, every nerve in your body ignited with warmth.

But just as you began to lose yourself completely, a burst of cheers jolted you both back to reality. You pulled away, breathless, and looked around to see George’s family and friends engulfing you in applause.

“Finally!” Lando shouted from the crowd, a wide grin stretching across his face. “Took you long enough!”

Your cheeks flushed crimson, and you felt a rush of embarrassment wash over you. Bursting with a mix of exhilaration and vulnerability, you buried your face in George’s neck, hiding from the teasing eyes that surrounded you.

“I can’t believe we just kissed in front of everyone,” you murmured, your voice muffled.

“Let’s not get shy now,” George chuckled, rubbing your back in gentle circles. “We have to finish what we started.”

A playful smile danced on your lips as you looked up at him. “Don’t start something you can’t finish because I will make out with you in front of everyone right now, Georgie.”

His gaze brightened with playful challenge, “Be my guest; I would love that.” He narrowed his eyes as if daring you.

You bit your lip, weighing your options. “You know they’ll probably get their phones out, and then it will go viral,” you said, your heart pounding in anticipation, a knot of excitement mixing with a sprinkle of embarrassment.

“Let them! I’m ready to show the world,” George declared, his confidence shining through.

You laughed, feeling surprisingly emboldened by his words. “Alright then, you asked for it!”

You leaned in, a smirk plastered across your face, but George grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, capturing your lips once more.

The kiss was soft and tender at first, but as the moment embraced you both, it deepened into something more passionate, filled with the promise of everything that had been left unsaid.

Somewhere in the background, Lando exaggeratedly whistled. “Get a room, you two!”

The sounds of laughter grew louder, but you hardly noticed as your world shrank to just the two of you. Every cheer from George’s family, every sidelong glance from friends, faded into a gentle hum.

When you finally pulled away once again, breathless and slightly dazed, George’s eyes sparkled with happiness.

“Wow,” you said breathlessly, your cheeks flushed. The cheers turned into supportive whoops, filling the backyard with positive energy that felt like pure joy.

“Are you sure you’re not just going to run away? Because if you leave me here to face them alone, I might seriously regret this,” he said with a teasing wink, attempting to lighten the mood.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you nudged him gently. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Georgie. I’m here to stay, for better or for worse.”

“Good,” he said, pulling you into a side hug, “because I’ve spent way too long waiting for that kiss. I’m not about to let you run away again.”

[f1version]

THE SLIP UP SERIES ★ LH44 version

pairing: lewis hamilton x singer! reader ( she/her )

summary: You and Lewis are known to be really close friends, but sometimes the adrenaline of a win or a show makes you slip up some secrets.

or these requests

note: what a busy week! but i’m finally making an appearance… for this au / version lewis wins silverstone !!

YNNATION’s tiktok page

10,726,155 views

ynnation Yesterday, Y/n confessed us #Daylight is about, long-term friend and F1 World Champion, Lewis Hamilton! Aren’t they the cutest?! 💘☀️ #TheErasTour

LEWIS HAMILTON’s team radio

lewishamilton’s insta story

lewishamilton

Liked by yourusername, mercedesamgf1 and 1,726,927 others

lewishamilton 104. This feeling, sharing it with my home, it’s everything. Thank you to everyone in my team for their unwavering support. Feels like the first one, what a dream.

Also, a very special thanks to ＠yourusername, you give me strength, we rise together, we fail to hide our relationship together. I love you forever. 💜🤞🏾

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yourusername IT WAS JUST HARD OK? i tried

lewishamilton WELL if it makes you feel better, i think i made it more obvious

yourusername “i love you baby” OF COURSE you did

mercedesamgf1 Thank you PR for giving us those last words 🙌

lewishamilton i had to BEG

yourusername oh? 👀

mercedesamgf1 yeahh oh???

yourusername You are a daylight. I love you too 💜🤞🏻

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1 and 5,827,826 others

yourusername Kansas City I can’t stop loving you. Thank you for everything. All the cheering, screaming, jumping, dancing, singing at the top of your lungs. Thank you for singing "Dlaylight" with me after that little secret I told you. You were a mesmerizing crowd, love you all 💜💜💜 See you 🔜 Denver

PS Daylight is not the only song about ＠lewishamilton. Congratulations on P1, Lover. 💜🤞🏻

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lewishamilton Love you to the moon and to saturn!!!! wish we could be two places at a time 🫶🏾

yourusername Same, just don’t slip up more things 😭

lewishamilton YOU STARTED

yourusername AND YOU FOLLOWED

lewishamilton WHAT CAN I SAY one single thread of gold tied me to you

yourusername DONT USE MY LYRICS AGAINST ME U DORK

lewishamilton I JUST LOVE U

yourusername ME TOO

georgerussell63 aw blimey now i’ll have to watch you being more lovey dovey than usual 😔

mercedesamgf1 And that is a blessing, George

[fastandcarlos]

: ̗̀➛ IMAGINE

: ̗̀➛ Cuddles Are Home

as max arrives home after a busy day, he's keen to try something new, however it doesn't quite work out as well as he imagined

: ̗̀➛ Sweet Voice

the sobs of your daughter could be heard for miles, but there's one voice that always seems to know the way to soothe her

: ̗̀➛ The Biggest Tease

you're all for supporting max's career, but isn't a sex ban just a step too far?

: ̗̀➛ Restless Baby

1.1k words of dad and husband max trying to fix the angsty mess that he’s made

: ̗̀➛ Padel Queen

when max suggests couples padel with george and carmen, he worries about how good you'll be, little does he know though what a master of padel you are

: ̗̀➛ Never An Interruption

you’re all ready to celebrate max’s win with him, only when you find someone already there to celebrate, you begin to question the role you truly play in max’s life

: ̗̀➛ The Perfect Wake Up

reunited at last, the two of you savour the feeling of finally being back with each other again

: ̗̀➛ Sleepless Nights

as your daughter cries out yet again, you can’t help but feel like the problem, especially when max swoops in and saves the day again

: ̗̀➛Baby Sibling

whilst all his friends are having siblings, your son is keen for the two of you to start thinking about when he can have one too

: ̗̀➛ Bump Cuddles

watching you pregnant is a dream for max, especially with your bump there on offer for him to always snuggle up to

: ̗̀➛ Sleepless Nights

when max leaves you and your daughter to stream for the night, only one of you is happy to let max go and play for a while

: ̗̀➛ Helping Hand

what was supposed to be a nice dinner for the two of you is ended with fans waiting around. with your nerves growing, max is there to protect you

: ̗̀➛ My Little Graduate

you’re all prepared to graduate with your family by your side, and an unexpected extra sneaking into the crowd

: ̗̀➛ Home For The Summer

travelling around the world with max is one of your favourite things to do, however none of it compares to home. even though you can’t afford to make it there, someone else might just

: ̗̀➛ Clingy

how does it feel to have the clingiest partner in the world? well, max verstappen can tell you

: ̗̀➛ All Your Little Things

imagine being able to date the perfect gentleman, well that’s exactly what you get being the one in a relationship with max

: ̗̀➛ She's In Labour, Now?

it wasn’t supposed to happen yet, especially with max preparing for a race…

: ̗̀➛ SMAU

: ̗̀➛ Family Affair

it’s a family affair at the singapore grand prix as the entire verstappen family come to cheer max on

: ̗̀➛ Missing Piece

fans are beginning to notice your absence around the paddock, little do they know the amazing reason you’re finding yourself hiding away

: ̗̀➛ Hometown Glory

it all leads up to the race at zandevoort, and we all know how it ends

: ̗̀➛ Life With The Verstappen Family

a glimpse into the life of the verstappen family and your two little ones who are always causing chaos

: ̗̀➛ A Decade Of Love

as you and max celebrate ten years together, take a look at a snapshot of your social media for each one of those years

: ̗̀➛ Summer Break

with three weeks off to enjoy yourselves, you and max make the most of it adventuring together

: ̗̀➛ "Hey Stranger!"

with your conflicting schedules, match day always clashes with race day. it means it’s been a while since you’ve seen max, until you pull a few strings 🥺

: ̗̀➛ Baby Perez Is Mine

after getting to know your brother’s team mate max, you soon find that it’s more than just a friendship that’s struck between the two of you

: ̗̀➛ TEXTS

: ̗̀➛ Pregnant Wife Texts