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norrussell · 2 months

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Home | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Word count: 8316

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

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

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

Previous part

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you watch the race?” he murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay with me,” you breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong with my cooking?”

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

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

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

246 notes · View notes

lxclerc · 1 year

Note

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

pairing: george russell x reader rated: fluff

INSTAGRAM AU

Liked by lewishamilton, charlottesine and others

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

View all 4,372 comments

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

user2 carlos sainz?

user3 bro carlos is not that pale

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

user5 you want to tell us who he is soooo bad

isahernaez that doesn't seem very safe

yourusername shush

isahernaez 🙄🙄

lewishamilton ❤️❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️

user6 is iT LEWIS?

user7 does that look like fucking lewis to you?

georgerussell63 where are you going?

yourusername i don't know. wanna come?

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

Liked by yourusername, isahernaez and others

georgerussell63 summer break well spent

View all 7,739 comments

danielricciardo russell george, you have been a busy bee

georgerussell63 😉😉

user1 y/n liked...

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

lewishamilton ❤️

georgerussell63 ❤️

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

carlossainz55 oi there are children here

georgerussell63 🤣🤣

user4 george russell might just be the driest replier on earth

yourusername looks relaxing

georgerussell63 it really was

user5 theyre fucking with us

alex_albon georgeeeeeeeeeee

georgerussell63 albonoooo

user6 @yourusername we know it's you

yourusername 🤫🤫🤫

Liked by charles_leclerc, charlottesine and others

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

View all 4,528 comments

georgerussell63 it's not that many

yourusername it's definitely that many

user1 is this the confirmation

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

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

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

georgerussell63 real funny 🖕🏻

user3 someone needs to take emojis away from these men

landonorris think of my virgin eyes, y/n

yourusername sorry i forgot you were still a minor

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

user5 not the twitch quartet getting back together to bully george

Liked by isahernaez, yourusername and others

georgerussell63 morning views

View all 8,728 comments

user1 topless boyfriend 🤝 bottomless girlfriend

user2 wish i was heather

isahernaez tell her to give my shirt back

yourusername no

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

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

landonorris 🙄🙄

user3 they're right, lando

user4 god i hate happy couples

Liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1 and others

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

View all 5,262 comments

mercedesamgf1 thank you for your service, y/n

yourusername where should i send in my resume?

user1 YES

user2 new wag in the house 🥳

danielricciardo everyone knew it was george

yourusername don't ruin my vibe

danielricciardo you need to announce relationships?

yourusername i wanted the clout

danielricciardo brb about to announce a relationship

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

yourusername thank you, uncle lewis ❤️

user3 finally a picture with his face on it 😭

isahernaez you're out of his league

georgerussell63 you introduced us?

yourusername i'm doing charity 🤫

georgerussell63 😧

yourusername just joking, i love you baby

user4 i mean...is isa wrong?

georgerussell63 my girl ❤️ ❤️ Liked by yourusername

2K notes · View notes

silversainz · 1 year

Text

Baby Russell - GR63

summary: baby Georgie's first time seeing his dad race

Warnings: ignore jack <3

,,,

Y/n/l/n

liked by LewisHamilton, Sebastianvettel, GeorgeRussell63, and 809,900 others

First time seeing his daddy race, he was a little nervous but enjoyed it so much 🥹❤️

tagged, GeorgeRussell63

view comments

Vettelkimi aww he's adorable 🥺

georgerussell63 my boy 🥰🥺

rayhamilton44 he looks so much like george

Mercedesamgf1 hope he enjoyed it ☺️

> y/n/l/n oh he very much did, was screaming and cheering the whole time for his dad 🥺🥰

LewisHamilton bring him by my garage sometime ☺️

> y/n/l/n sure thing uncle Lewis ❤️

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Georgerusell63

Liked by y/n/l/n, LewisHamilton, Mercedesamgf1, and 999,999 others

what a great start to the season, my boy came to witness his first race and absolutely loved it, and Toto made him a little gift for his first kart race tomorrow ❤️

Tagged, mercedesamgf1, susie_wolff

view comments

Raylerlerc16 aww his lil Mercedes suit 🥺

Susie_wolff Toto and I hope he liked his gift and good luck on tomorrow 💕🤞

> y/n/l/n oh he absolutely loves his gift, still hasn’t taken it off ☺️🥰

> Georgerusell63 he also demands sleeping in it 😂

ashleclerc16 he’s so adorable

sainzz55 it was adorable how hard he was cheering for you

markkimi his little smile is so adorable 🥺

#george russell #george russell x reader #george russell x you #george russell imagine #george russell drabble #george russell fanfic #george russell one shot #george russell fluff #George Russell instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fluff #f1 instagram au #instagram au

1K notes · View notes

silverstonesainz · 4 months

Text

regret & whatever love is

of everything said and left unsaid frat!george x reader 2.8k words warnings: toxic relationship ; mentions of alcohol

d rambles. . . i wrote this in one sitting and i think thats super apparent but YAY, i wrote smth. this is for two requests that i received months ago, so two birds one stone. hope u like this, and as always feedback is always appreciated!!

you find that these days, it’s easier to be further from george than right by him. but that isn’t a truth you could ever cough up to.

it’s obvious though, you think as you babysit a cup of warm vodka and flat sprite. he’s on the opposite end of the room, laughing at a joke and entertaining people without you. he talks to the whole room like he doesn’t have a care in the world, truly, you’ve never seen him so relaxed. it irritates you to no end, and you almost walk over to watch the tension weave back into his shoulders, watch that stupid smile fall off his lips and remind him that you exist.

you sip on your drink, down the rest of it even if it burns. you excuse yourself from the group, walking back into the kitchen to pour yourself another drink. the kitchen island is a mess of half-empty bottles of soda and even emptier bottle of liquor. there are already three bottles pushed aside, empty, in the first hour of the post-social shenanigans. You reach for the blue bottle of plain new amsterdam vodka, pouring what you can only guess to be three shots worth before adding sprite. it bubbles, fizzes close to the brim, and you watch as the foam subsides before dripping in a little more. the soda does a shit job at masking the putrid taste of liquor, and for once you accept that.

foot steps move closer into the kitchen, followed by laughter and promises that he’d be right back. you know it’s george, you know by how light his steps are. it’s like he walks on air, floats. you don’t look up from your cup, more interested in the clear mix swirling in your cup. it washes against the stain of your lipstick, and the color doesn’t budge.

george walks around you, reaches over you, moves about like you’re not even in the room. it hurts. you turn, lean against the edge of the sticky island, bringing the cup to your lips but your eyes trained on the red stain on the dingy tiled floor. the fridge opens and closes, something is poured and another bottle added to the stash of empty ones. then you see a pair of worn brown loafers, the same one he wears when he wants to put effort, but not too much. the leather is begin to peel and you make a mental note to get him new ones.

“you okay?” george asks.

you scoff, sipping the drink again before setting it by you, “sure.”

“you wanna talk about it?”

did you? you’d been fighting for so long you aren’t even sure where to begin. honestly, you hoped it would fizzle out like all your other fights have in the past. but fizzling out means someone has to give in, and neither of you are really ready to give up having the upper hand this time around.

maybe to some, the fight was stupid. hell, your girlfriends thought so too. but they only knew of this one instance, and not the three others you’ve made a point to keep hidden. he’s a good guy, it’s an honest mistake, they said. one time is an honest mistake, but catching him talk to his ex four times isn’t.

“you want to talk about it now?” you ask, eyes wide and disbelief weaved into your features.

he shrugs, sipping on his cup before placing it on the counter. “yeah. might as well.”

you scoff again before mocking him. “yeah. might as well.”

george runs his fingers through his hair, already vexed by a conversation that hasn’t even happened. you bite down on your lip, feeling the tension begin to rise. the air is thick, dense, just like molasses. the tension oozes out into the room, drips slow and thick, sticky and hard to get rid of. the kickback happening in the next room, the messy chorus of conversation and the low hum of music, does little to break it. you shift uncomfortable, foot to foot, not sure if you should speak up first or wait on him to say something.

“i honestly forgot how we got here,” george mumbles, twisting his body in search of his drink.

“we got here because i caught you talking to sabrina again,” you say, hands coming up behind your neck and fingers reaching into the roots of your hair. you tug softly, let the soft ache distract from the one in your chest. it feel like a ball has grown in your throat when you say her name and remember the circumstances in which you found them.

to the naked eye, it looked like two friends catching up. but to you, to his girlfriend, you picked up on the glimmer in her eyes as she stared up at him. you notice the subtlety of her body language, how loudly it screamed for your boyfriend. all of her was turned to him, leaned towards him. she looked so comfortable and so did he. he wasn’t antsy, wasn’t looking for an out of the conversation, you bet you weren’t even a thought in his mind even after you had begged him not to talk to her again.

“you’re still mad about that?”

you jaw falls open as you stare up at your boyfriend, searching for the joke and the punchline. but his face doesn’t waver that way. instead his brows furrow and his lips pout. both your expressions, though different, ask the same question: you can’t be serious?

“of course i’m fucking mad about it george,” you say through your teeth, “why wouldn’t i be when i asked you not to talk to her anymore.”

you see a ghost of a smile on his lips, but it’s hidden as he brings his cup up to his mouth. he shakes his head into his drink, exhaling loudly through his nostrils. it’s clear he doesn’t take this as seriously as you do. you watch him drink, the way his adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps whatever is in the red solo cup. you wait even though you want than to push the bottom of the cup up and watch its contents drip onto him. you’d love nothing more than to watch his perfect white t-shirt get stained with alcohol, watch his face contort in anger because then maybe he’s feel just an ounce of what you do.

“i haven’t talked to her since,” he finally says, crossing his arms. “if it’s any consolation.”

“it’s not. of course it’s not, are you kidding?” you push your fingers through your hair, inhaling sharply. you fill your lungs until it hurts, exhaling loudly before releasing the grip on your locks. “you don’t even care, do you?”

“of course i care—“

“just not enough?”

he presses his lips into a thin line, nostrils flaring. he breathes in through his nose, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to suffocate the irritation rising in his chest. “i fucking care. i just don’t see what the big deal is.”

“the big deal is, is she’s your ex george. she’s your ex girlfriend who is so clearly still into you. and i’ve asked you not once, but three time to stop entertaining her and you still do!”

“sabrina is not into me.” you shake your head when he says it, speaking over him immediately. “sabrina is definitely into you.”

george huffs, “so what? you want me to ignore her?” you blink, hard, before nodding your head. your eyes are wide, lips agape, and a crease in your forehead wondering if he’s really asking that ridiculous question. “it’s rude.” he says.

“i could give a shit,” you reply quickly.

he digs his tongue into his cheek, nodding his head as he looks you up and down. “well i give a shit. i wasn’t raised to be fucking rude to people, and i sure as hell am not gonna start just to appease this delusion you have in your head about me and sab.”

you freeze, the words render you stiff. your heart falls apart, falls at his feet piece by piece. tears begin to brim at your eyes. you wonder if he regrets it, you can’t tell as he hides behind his cup.

“i should smack the shit out of you,” you whisper, voice quivering.

george scoffs, unamused, as he empties the cup down his throat. “yeah, maybe.”

tears blur your vision before falling onto your cheek. you have to turn away when you hear another set of footsteps walk into the room. you make quick work to wipe away any evidence of heartbreak, listening to george ask one of his brothers how it’s going. you fumble for your drink, bringing it up immediately to take another gulp of it. you see pierre just above the rim of your cup, his back to you as he talks to george.

pierre turns to you, smiling, “hey there,” he greats. he extends his arm to you, and you lean into his side for a brief hug. you avoid looking up at him, and when he releases you, you take george’s cup and move to the opposite end of the island. you try to play the doting girlfriend, the girlfriend who knows him so well, well enough to know that his cup is nearly empty. you refill his drink— vodka and mountain dew. you feel george watch you, half paying attention to whatever it is pierre is talking to him about. you don’t meet his gaze, instead reach for the blue labeled bottle of vodka and pour another shot or two in your half empty cup. you take a sip. it tastes terrible.

you hand george his cup, leaning by him against the counter while he and pierre converse. he doesn’t put his arm around you, or even kisses your forehead like he always does. he just mumbles a thanks and looks at his brother. and though his arm presses against yours, it feels like he’s miles away. you both stand there, even if your hearts had already left the room. you felt empty, a shell of a girl you both loved.

pierre eventually leaves, returns to the kickback that had picked up since you and george had found yourself stuck in the kitchen with even bigger problems than you led yourself to believe.

you return to your spot on the kitchen island, back still to him. your elbows rest on the counter, hands supporting your head as you allow yourself to let go of the tension you’d been holding. you cry softly into your palms, letting the tears smudge the makeup around your eyes. you’d look crazy by the end of this, but maybe you always did anyways. george calls your name softly, slightly defeated and maybe even resigned. you wipe your fingers against your eyes, wipe away the tears and the mascara that fell with it. you use every clean bit of finger to wipe your eyes until it no longer leaves streaks of black on your skin. then you turn to george, who looks a little more guilty than moments earlier.

“i’m sorry.” he says.

“you always protect her,” you stammer softly, “you always find a way to defend her and make me feel fucking crazy george. you always do this.”

“because you worry yourself over nothing!”

“it’s not nothing!”

alex walks in, and you both have to bit your tongue. he must’ve felt the tension in the room, because he only smiles over at the two of you before grabbing an unopened box of seltzers from the fridge and a stack of unused red cups.

“we’re uh,” alex clears his throat, “we’re playing rage cage, if you guys want to come.”

“yeah man,” george’s lips curve up, almost a smile, “we’ll be out in a sec.”

alex nods before walking out. you wait until his footsteps drown in the music before continuing.

“it’s not nothing,” you start again, softer this time, “it’s not delusion, even if you want to believe it is. i know she’s into you, a girl always knows.”

“we’ve been broken up for nearly a year,” george is so clearly exasperated, growing tired of the topic. you see it in his green eyes, in the way he presses his lips into a thin line.

“doesn’t mean she stopped caring about you.” you sniffle. you look up at your boyfriend, who has his gaze cast down at his beat up loafers. he is probably looking at the creases in the leather, the threads holding it together beginning to fray. maybe he’s even acknowledging he needs a new pair. “do you still care about her?”

his body goes rigid. and he opens his lips to give you the answer you want to hear but then he bites down on the words. his head coils back slightly, and his face grimaces because he can't say it. for whatever reason, for every reason, he can’t say that he doesn’t.

but he should’ve said it. he should’ve been sure, shouldn’t have left a second of space between your question and his answer.

you whimper, the tears come back. “oh my god,” you whisper.

you have to walk out of the room, you have to get out of the space and find way to breathe. you can hear george calling behind you, following you with heavier footsteps. no one notices you walkout of the house, but they do notice george. you try to close the door behind you, but he catches it before it can slam shut. he reaches out for you, fingers curling around your arm and pulling you into his chest. you can feel the words vibrate in his chest and into you. i don’t, i don’t, he chants. i’m sorry. i swear i don’t. he holds onto you so tightly, and you find it hard to slip away from him no matter how hard you try. you push and writhe, but george holds on. but you get away, panting and red in the face.

you stand with a bit of a distance between you two. you find it easier to be further from george than right by him. it’s easier to breathe, easier not to hate him or yourself. distance might make the heart grow fonder but not here. between you and george, distance makes the relationship bearable. but love isn’t supposed to be this way. love should make the distance hurt, it should make standing a foot away from him burn your skin. but to you, a foot of space isn’t enough.

george takes a step forward. you take a step backward.

the words, the tension, the soft admittance that a bit of space might be beneficial for the both of you is stuck in your throat. but the tears, the tears keep falling. they fall and fall and fall, dripping onto your chest.

the guilt, the regret, is evident in george’s face, even more so now than you had ever seen. “i’m sorry.” he stutters.

this is the part you’re supposed to say that you know, that it’s okay. but it’s not. it’s not okay. you know he’s sorry, but you also know that nothing about the last fifteen or so minutes is okay.

“i’m sorry.” he says again.

“i know.” your voice breaks.

is this even love anymore?

“i’ll— i’ll block sabrina. i won’t speak to her, i’ll be rude to her, fuck whatever it takes. i’m sorry baby, you have to know how sorry i am.”

maybe this is love. a skewed, fucked up version of love that works for you and george. maybe that’s why you hold on, because it works. even if it’s toxic and wrong and goes against every single thing written about love, even if it’s a kind of love that needs the threat of leaving to find a bit of compromise— it works.

“don’t put me in the position again george.” your voice barely carries above the wind. but george hears it, nods profusely when he does. “please.”

“i won’t,” he reassures.

you should’ve said it was over. you shouldn’t have given him another chance, because you’d already given him one too many. and you know what this will all succumb to, you’d been down this road before. maybe you’ll regret this one day, when george will say things he’ll apologize for when its too late, and talk to a girl you’d already begged him not to. one day you’ll regret walking back into his arm and accepting that maybe this is what love ought to be: a lot of heartache and just enough compromise to quell it.

george holds you so tightly you struggle to breathe. you drown in his scent, in his hold, and in the threat of all this coming back to punch you in the face. you drown in regret and whatever love is supposed to be.

#george russell x you #george russell x reader #george russell one shot #george russell blurb #frat george

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f1letters · 1 year

Text

midnight rain | gr63

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

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

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

pairing: george russell x reader

word count: 3.1k

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

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

masterlist

Rain

Life as we know it is made of cycles.

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

And love is very similar to this philosophy of nature.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My town was a wasteland

Full of cages, full of fences

Pageant queens and big pretenders

But for some, it was paradise

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

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

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

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

She looks so annoyed to be there, so ungrateful.

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

My boy was a montage

A slow-motion, love potion

Jumping off things in the ocean

I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain

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

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

But she tried.

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

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

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

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

She was sunshine, he was midnight rain.

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck me, the team party.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It came like a postcard

Picture perfect shiny family

Holiday peppermint candy

But for him, it's every day

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

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

There was no turning back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How did things go so wrong all of a sudden?

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

So I peered through a window

A deep portal, time travel

All the love we unravel

And the life I gave away

'Cause he was sunshine, I was midnight rain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

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

And like the seasons, time moves on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I guess sometimes we all get

Just what we wanted, just what we wanted

And he never thinks of me

Except for when I'm on TV

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

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

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

What cold, dark, sad winter it was.

But spring always finds a way to come back.

I guess sometimes we all get

Some kind of haunted, some kind of haunted

And I never think of him

Except on midnights like this

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

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

(taglist continues in the comments)

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

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libraryofloveletters · 2 years

Text

Pack Light

George Russell x Reader

Warnings: George has airport dad energy, a series of unfortunate packing events, Lewis is the plug, general couples teasing each other, all around soft boyfriend George <33

Word Count: 2.0k

Author’s Note: this has been sitting in my inbox for over 2 months and it’s time I wrote it + I expanded on it, hope that’s okay anon! <3 -- based on this ask: one

----

The sunshine was calling your name. There was nothing you wanted more than to be sitting on a lounger, a drink in hand and the warm sun beating down on your skin.

Alas, you were not there.

Cold, rainy England held you in its grasps but not for long.

The two of you were last minute packing for your trip, you needed to leave for the airport in 3 hours. George had surprised you with a vacation, he was whisking you off to some Caribbean island for a week in the sun and since you were only going to be there for a week, you both decided to pack light.

One suitcase for the two of you was the original idea but you quickly realized that would not work. One suitcase each was more plausible.

Your suitcase sat opened on the floor, George’s on the bed as you folded the pants he had left behind the opened suitcase. Your boyfriend was currently in the bathroom, groaning about something.

“Georgie ?” You call, setting the pants in the suitcase before getting up. “Baby, what’s going on?” you ask, peeking into the bathroom.

George has got his back to you, hands on the counter and he’s hunched over. Your first instinct is that something is wrong.

So you ask; “what’s wrong?” Resting a hand on his back.

George glances over at you, “I can’t fit all of this into the bag.” He tells you, gesturing to the collection of products on the counter. “Can I put some in your bag?”

“My toiletries and makeup bags are full, honey.”

“Impossible,” George shook his head. “We have..” he glances at his watch, “two hours and fifty three minutes to leave the house. We can do this. Get the bag, we’ll rearrange it.”

You sigh, stepping out of the bathroom to get your makeup and toiletries bag from your suitcase.

You were both standing in the bathroom, all of the products dumped onto the counter. Your makeup was emptied first; foundation, colour corrector, concealer, highlight, blush, primer, mascara, lashes, 3 eyeshadow palettes, bronzer, chapstick, lipstick and lipgloss.

“Do you really need all of this?” George asks, unzipping the bottom half of the bag to see your brushes at the bottom.

“If you want me to look like a zombie on vacation, I can leave it home.” You tell him, the annoyance evident in your tone.

George sets the bag back down, “okay so that’s all going.”

“Here, fine.” You sort through the pile, “I'll compromise.” One of the four lipglosses from the makeup bag gets tossed back in the drawer. George can't help but laugh, he gives you a round of applause, “wow, good job. Thank you so much darling, that makes such a huge difference.”

“I thought so too,” you smile.

The skin care bag was next, George carefully dumps it out onto the counter. The bag contained a face mask, face wash, toner, pimple patches, serum, eye cream, moisturizer and face oil.

“Why do you need face oil?” George asks, inspecting the bottle. You pick up the black bottle on the counter, “you have aftershave.. you barely grow facial hair.”

George fakes a gasp, pulling the bottle away from you. “Shut up,” he laughs.

“Okay but we don’t need doubles of this stuff,” you point out the two bottles of moisturizer and toner.

As it would turn out, you and George use a lot of the same products for your skin care and it didn’t make sense to overpack and take doubles when you were taking one suitcase each. You two sort through the products to see who has more left and manage to condense it into one bag rather than two; and yes, George’s aftershave made it into the bag.

You two head back into the bedroom, you toss him the bag. “That goes in your suitcase, mine’s almost full.” George didn’t argue. He knew you had more clothing which meant extra weight, not to mention the million and one extra outfits you packed just for Instagram photos.

When he asked why you would need so many pictures and so many outfits, you told him that you weren't sure when you two would be going on vacation again between your hectic work schedules so you were going to milk the hell out of this vacation.

George can’t lie, he sneaked a few extra pieces into his luggage for the same reason.

The rest of things were now shoved into George’s suitcase and he sat on the bed double checking your flight status when you returned from the bathroom with your very large bottle of body wash.

“Honey, you can buy that there.” He reminds you, watching you shove it into the inner pocket of his suitcase.

“Why? To end up with two half used bottles? Seems wasteful.” You tell him, zipping the suitcase.

George glances over at you after he shuts his laptop, slipping it into his backpack. He thought your wasteful comment reminded him of someone and then it clicks. “Have you been talking to Sebastian ?” He teases, making you laugh.

“Yeah,” you play along, “jealous ?”

“Of Sebastian ?” George asks, “husband and father of 3? No, I don’t think I am, darling.” He smiles, his hands finding your waist before pulling you to him. Your hands are flat on his chest, smiling at the man holding you.

“If you keep looking at me like that, we're going to end up in bed.” You tell him, brushing him off.

George pulls you back, snagging a kiss before you push him off once more. “C’mon, let’s go. We have to head out.” You tell him, grabbing the last of your things and running through the checklist in your head.

You two head out for the airport, George insisted on driving himself even when an Uber made more sense. Not only did he take four million years with the guy at the park and fly booth, but George also stopped for a coffee which you had a feeling you were going to regret.

Things were going too smoothly. Something was going to go wrong, that’s just your luck.

Not like you jinxed it or anything, but boy, were you right.

The flight was in less than two hours and you were about to walk to the check in desk when George turned to you, stopping you. “Do you have my passport?” He asks you, searching through his backpack.

Your brows furrow, “why would I have your passport? It was on the nightstand.”

“Okay, don’t panic.” He starts and you roll your eyes, “that’s going to make me panic, George.”

“I don’t have it.”

“What do you mean you don’t have it?” You ask him, beginning to look through your own bag for yours. “I thought you picked it up,” he says, “I saw you looking through the nightstand and I figured you picked it up.”

“Yeah?” You sigh, looking at your boyfriend, “figured wrong because I don’t have mine either.”

“Okay,” George pauses, thinking what to do. “I can run home and grab them. I'll be back before the check in closes.” You nod but then stop him before he goes running off. “Check and see if the route is clear, it’s rush hour.”

George makes a quick check, sighing as he scrolled through his phone. “Two hours at most, all routes are backed up because an accident.”

There was no way to get home, get the passports and be back in time for your flight. It was like the lightbulb appeared over your head and you turned to your boyfriend. “What about from home to here?” You ask, pulling your phone from your pocket.

“Why?” He asks, clearly confused as to why you wanted to know the route from home to the airport.

“Can you just check?”

You have already opened the chat, just waiting for George to give you the details. “It’s clear, it’s going east that’s blocked.”

“Perfect.” You tell him, typing away on your phone. George is often confused by you, you did questionable things but they tended to work so he waited to see what it was you were doing.

Meanwhile your boyfriend stood confused, you had hatched a plan. Texting the one person you knew was going to be able to help you.

To Lewis: LEWIS!! EMERGENCY!!

From Lewis: What’s wrong? Are you okay?

To Lewis: forgot our passports at home and there’s a roadblock going east. Could you bring them?? it’s clear coming this way.

From Lewis: no problem, where’s the stuff?

To Lewis: key is under the blue flower pot in the backyard and the alarm code is 6344. passports are on the nightstand in the bedroom.

To Lewis: ignore the mess.

From Lewis: cute alarm code :) be there in 30.

You show George the phone and he lets out a breath. “You always know what to do, don’t you?” He says, an arm over your shoulder.

“Kinda my specialty.” You say, smiling at him.

It wasn’t even the full 30 minutes and Lewis had called to let you know he was outside. He rolls down the window and you lean into the car to get the passports from him.

“Held onto the key, figured it’d be safer with me.” He tells you, smiling as you pat a sleeping Roscoe in the passenger seat.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Thank you Lew, you’re a lifesaver.” You smile at him and he nods, smiling. You take a step back and let George speak to his teammate, the man bent down to peek into the window, his hand reaching down to rub the sleeping puppy’s side.

“Mate, thank you.” George says, his hand extending towards Lewis. The two of them share a half way handshake. “We’ll bring you back a souvenir.” George tells him, standing up straight now.

Lewis laughs, “bring me back a baby Russell, need another baby to spoil.”

“I’ll try my best.” George tells him, chuckling. You two wave off the man, thanking him once more for his help.

George leans you two back in, you manage to make it through check in without any problems and with 40 minutes to spare before you board. You were sitting by the gate, digging through your purse when George returned from talking to someone he knew.

“What’s wrong?” He asks you, standing in front of you with his hands on his hips. You bite back a smile, “I uh- I forgot my charger,” you tell him.

George chuckles, “I'll buy one for you, stay here. Don’t wander off.”

You raise your hands in surrender, promising to stay put. The last time you two went on vacation, he had left you by the gate when he went to the bathroom and returned to find your spot empty. You had wandered off to check the gift shop and the other stores around it whilst he was gone and you forgot to text him.

This time you stayed put, waiting for your boyfriend to return.

He was gone all of ten minutes, returning with the charger and a bottle of ginger ale. “What’s this for?” You ask, the man handing you both things.

“To settle your stomach,” he says, sitting beside you. “I noticed you took your meds.” He smiles, kissing your temple as his arm comes up around your shoulder.

You usually didn’t get nervous when flying but after the whole passport fiasco, you were on a little tailspin so you took one of your pills to relax.

“Baby?” he calls for you and you look over your shoulder at him. “Maybe next time we don’t pack light, hm?” He asks, making you laugh.

---

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writingshushf1 · 1 year

Text

THE LONELIEST

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

Rating: +16

Warnings: angst? breakup? losing someone

Word count: 3.7k

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

masterlist

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

Monaco, August 2022.

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

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

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

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

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

"George Russell. You?"

"Y/n."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Kiss me then."

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

"Vision of paradise." I said unashamedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

"George?"

"Huh?"

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

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

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

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

"I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"For you? Yes."

...

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

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

That's when the inevitable problems started to happen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe this was not the time to be together.

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

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

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

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

We needed to talk.

...

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

"We need to talk."

"What's it about, kitten?"

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

"Love..."

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

"However?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How do you know?"

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

"I will never forget you.

"Then let's make this night unforgettable."

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

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

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

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

"See you someday."

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

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

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

...

George (pov)

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

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

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

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stateofcharles · 2 years

Text

family time - GR63

pairing: dad!George Russell x mom!reader

word count: ~ 4,4k

warnings: fluff, labour and birth, fluff again, just fluff really be ready

summary: (requested by Anon) Please do dad!George part 2, pretty please! Him and Jack are making my hormones go crazy + (requested by Anon) Please please write part of Dad George, I am obsessed with the first part and need more.+ prompt n.3 was suggested as well by Anon, thank you lots, i loved writing it! Some glimpses into parenthood with George

a/n: this can be read as standalone or as a part II to this. I HAD TO SORRY, the photo of george meeting little jack made my hormones fly as well and i couldn’t resist. it took me quite a while but i’m actually really proud of this and i also gave the best of myself, so here enjoy this +4k! <3

1. Meeting the twins

It was a calm, sunny, spring day when your babies decided to make their appearance. Your waters had broken early in the morning and as soon as you had realised it you had let out a scream that woke up George immediately. When he noticed the soaked bed sheets it took him only a couple of seconds to join the dots. He helped you to put on some comfortable clothes before grabbing your hospital bag and guiding you to the car. During the ride you could only focus on breathing, while your boyfriend was calling his parents to tell them what was happening.

When you reached the hospital you were laid on a stretcher and brought to the maternity ward. The rest of the day passed almost in a blur, you were too concentrated in your pain to remember clearly what was going on around you.

You just had a vague memory of your midwife, at some point during the evening, telling you that the moment to push had come: you had grabbed George’s hand and poured all your energy into bringing your babies to the world.

After almost two hours you heard the first crying and the little girl was placed on your chest. You were completely captured by her tiny fingers and her buttoned nose, but what made you sob even harder was George sticking out his pinky and the baby grabbing it almost immediately, as if she knew that he was her dad and that she was safe with him. You turned towards him, finding his eyes glistening as well and you tilted your head backwards to leave a kiss on his lips.

Your moment of heaven was interrupted by another contraction, which reminded you there was another baby on their way. The nurse temporarily took the newborn from your arms so that you could push with all your strength, and it was a matter of just 10 minutes before another newborn was crying on your chest, another babygirl. The twins were soon reunited and they both latched on your nipples, whilst both you and your boyfriend were staring at them in awe.

It felt so surreal, the four of you were engulfed in your bubble of pure happiness. George leaned his forehead on yours and then moved slightly to nuzzle your noses together. “Thank you for everything love” he murmured before placing a kiss on your daughters’ heads.

Suddenly a nurse woke you up from your state of trance to ask you whether you already had the names for the babies. Your boyfriend threw you a glance and you nodded, still completely sure about your choices.

He smiled at you before turning to the nurse again, “Amelia Joy and Emma Mae Russell”

2. Visiting the paddock

When your girls were a little older than 1 you and George agreed that it was time for their first race weekend. It was the second race of a double header and you had decided to join your boyfriend only for Saturday and Sunday.

The previous monday your daughters had cried when they had realised their dad hadn’t come home as usual and your heart had broken a little. Their giggles when they had seen him at the airport on Friday night, though, those were music to your ears. They had started getting so excited in their double stroller that you were almost afraid they would fall from it. George had picked Emma up, while you had taken Amelia. Both girls started waving their arms and laughing and you could swear George’s eyes were glistening.

On Saturday you arrived at the paddock late in the morning. The babies were asleep in the stroller, so you swiped your badge and you calmly headed towards the Mercedes hospitality. On your way you met Alex, whom you greeted and you had a word with, mainly about the babies and his plans with his girlfriend to join you and George for a dinner once back in England. In the meantime the girls woke up and they received plenty of raspberries on their tummies from uncle Alex.

At the hospitality you were welcomed by Lewis, who embraced you in a tight hug before focusing on the babies. Amelia literally lightened up when she saw the man and started kicking her legs; Lewis threw you a glance, as if asking for permission, and when you smiled he picked up the little girl. On the contrary, when Emma saw that the man was wearing the same T-shirt her daddy had, she started babbling “dadadada”, which you knew was the word both babies used when they wanted your or George’s attention.

Lewis then, who was playing with little Amelia in his arms, told you that George was speaking to the engineers and that he could take the three of you to see him. You gladly accepted and the older man guided you through the garage.

Your daughters soon became the main attraction of the whole team. Whenever you would walk next to someone who knew who you were, they would immediately stop whatever they were doing and they would greet the girls. You had lost the count of how many times you had repeated “This is Emma, while Lewis is holding Amelia”.

Finally you got to your boyfriend, who had his back to you and was speaking with his engineer and Toto. When the twins noticed their daddy’s presence they didn’t waste their time to make themselves heard. They simultaneously started their babbled “dadadada” and George immediately turned around.

He smiled brightly when he saw the girls and quicked excused himself to the others to hurry to you and take Emma from your arms. He peppered with kisses her whole face but before he could even turn Amelia started stretching her arms towards him, wanting to be held. George took her from Lewis’ arms as well, so that he was now standing proudly with one twin per arm. In the distance you saw Mercedes’ social media manager snapping photos of the moment, and you knew it was just a matter of time before the whole F1 fandom would start going crazy for daddy George.

George then introduced the girls to Toto and his race engineer, and when he stepped outside the garage with still the babies in his arms he was met by Charles and Daniel. Knowing your daughters were in safe hands, you allowed yourself to relax a little and you went to the toilet and organised the babies’ bag in case of emergency .

By the time you had come back there was no sight of your boyfriend or your babies. Before you could even panic you heard giggles from inside the garage, so you went to check. You found yourself in front of probably one of the sweetest scenes of your life.

George was sitting in his car with Emma on his lap, while the girl was clicking any button she could reach. Beside the car there was Amelia, who had come back in Lewis’ arms, who was trying to stretch towards her dad to sit there as well.

After a couple of minutes George took her as well, and now both your girls were on their dad's lap, being still so small to fit at the same time. Your heart skipped a bit at the sight and you had to fight your tears back. The babies were clearly happier than ever to be with their daddy, and you could tell George was having the time of his life as well, spending time in his car - probably one of his favourite places - with two of the most important people in his life.

Furtively you pulled out your phone and took a photo of the scene, too sweet and spontaneous not to be remembered, and you set it as your lock screen immediately after.

Later that night you were lying in bed after a tiring day. The twins hadn’t stopped moving not for a minute, too thrilled by everything going on around them, and they started moving even more when the mechanics cheered after George took pole in quali. When he came back to the garage the first thing he did was smash a forehead kiss on your daughters’ and then he bent his back down to kiss you and nuzzle your noses together.

Now he was having a shower and the girls were in their bassinets already asleep. You opened Instagram and the photo you found on your homepage made some little tears escape your eyes. It was the photo the admin had taken at the garage: George was facing away, he had his gaze turned towards Amelia, in his right arm, who was pointing something outside the garage whilst Emma, in his left, was playing with his T-shirt collar. The second was a snap of the babies on his lap in the car: Emma was leaning on George’s shoulder laughing with crinkled eyes and Amelia was focused on pushing the buttons on the steering wheel. What took you a while to notice was that there was a third photo after that one, and it was of you staring at your family with a hand over your mouth and clearly teary-eyed. The caption filled your heart with love, “The sweetest (and best) family ever is here❤️”

You quickly liked it and left a heart emoji in the comment. And the admin was indeed right, your family was indeed the sweetest (and the best).

3. Stuffed animals and sunflowers

One of the first toys the twins were ever gifted were 2 stuffed animals, the first presents from uncle Lewis: an elephant for Amelia and a bunny for Emma. Both girls had immediately become attached to them, almost obsessed with them - much to their uncle’s delight.

They would carry the animals literally everywhere: in their bassinets, in their highchairs while eating, in the paddock, when going out for a stroll and you and George almost had to fight every evening when it came to bath time, because the twins wouldn’t let them go even in the bathtub.

You had lost the count of how many times you had to wash them because they were too dirty or soaked in drooling due to the twins teething. When the babies would realise their plushies had disappeared they would start crying non-stop, and calming them was almost an impossible challenge.

That was why you knew that day you were screwed.

Emma and Amelia had just fallen asleep on the sofa - weirdly without the toys, so you decided to clean their room up. You found Emma’s bunny on the floor and you quickly placed it on the shelf, then bent down again to pick up the elephant as usual. You frowned as you noticed it wasn’t there, normally they would lie in the same place, but still you decided not to worry: it probably had been left somewhere in the house, so you kept tidying.

Terror flashed in your eyes when you finished cleaning but there was no sign of the little elephant. You knew for sure that wasn’t going to end well. You had looked for it everywhere but in vain, it seemed to have disappeared. Suddenly you heard the door opening and you knew it was George even because you could hear the twins babbling; they had woken up as your boyfriend had stepped in, it was like they had a radar and they were always awake whenever their daddy came home.

You chose to forget for a moment about the whole plushie matter and instead focus on your family. Both you and George played with them for a while on their little mattress in the living room before you noticed it was dinner time. As you headed to the kitchen George went to the babies’ room to get their pyjamas and bathe them.

“Darling?” you heard him call you from upstairs, “where’s the elephant? I can’t find it” You panicked. Shit. This was going to be a mess, you knew it.

You reached them in the room, where George was standing in the middle. Emma was peacefully playing with her bunny on the changing table, whilst Amelia was curled in her daddy’s arms, her head tucked in his neck and you could already hear some sniffles: it was just a matter of time before she would start crying frantically.

George threw you a glance, meaning tell me we haven’t lost it please, but you could only panicky nod. He murmured “fuck!”, but it was already too late. As if she had seen her parents’ glances and understood the meaning, Amelia started crying abruptly, her sobs were more heartbreaking than usual.

“Phan dada,” she managed to say through the sobs, “phan, phan”, it was like a chant at some point.

Emma seemed to sense her sister’s sadness because she started crying as well. Good! Now you had two crying toddlers that you didn’t know how to calm. George started rocking Amelia in his arms and you picked Emma up to do the same, but nothing seemed to work.

“Oh god, where could we have left them? Georgie?” you asked, almost freaking out. Finding that plushie had out of sudden become the aim of that night, considering that now the twins would refuse to do anything without it.

“I don’t know, last time I saw it was this morning when you went with them to the grocery store.” he answered, as nervous as you were.

“Wait, what if she left it in the cart? Or somewhere at the shop? Nonono George, it’s the end if this is what has happened, they will drive us crazy.”

From the outside it could seem a funny scene, almost ridiculous, but you actually knew very well that it was a matter of life. Your sleeping - and your headache - quite depended on it.

George handed you a crying Amelia as he headed downstairs. Great, now you had two crying babies to calm! You followed him ready to throw him the worst insults, when you saw he was picking up his Mercedes’ keys. He checked the clock, 19:28.

“Babe where are you going?” you asked.

“Going to the store, I have about half an hour before it closes. I’ll look for the toy and ask the salesperson if they’ve seen it.” And with that he was out of the door. You knew why he was so determined to find the damn elephant: lately he hadn’t been sleeping very well, too worried about the car’s not-up-to-par performance and a sleepless night was the last thing he needed, his headache was already pounding.

While he was away you tried everything to soothe the twins’ sobs. After a while Emma’s died down and she - thank god! - decided to focus on the cartoons you had put on the TV while chewing her bunny’s ears. Amelia was instead desperate and you had tried everything to distract her: bottle, food, pacifier, cartoons, cuddling, rocking through the room, but nothing seemed to work.

It was a little after 8pm when you saw the lights of George’s car in the driveaway. You anxiously waited for him to walk in but when he did and you saw his disappointed face you were struggling yourself not to cry. It was going to be one of those nights and you really weren’t ready. You loved your daughters but a night of sleep was really appealing.

You sighed disconsolately and sat on the couch. George headed to the kitchen to grab something to eat and brought you a slice of the pizza left in the freezer. He sat next to you and switched the TV from cartoons to some sappy movie, but neither of you paid attention to it. Emma fortunately didn’t fuss when she saw the cartoon disappear, but on the contrary Amelia was still whining.

George was clearly losing his patience: he never yelled at the babies when they misbehaved, but you could spot his nervousness. You didn’t want him to take it out on Amelia, so you decided to go out for a while with her, one last attempt to calm her.

“Babe,” you whispered not to worsen his evident headache, “I’m gonna grab the car and take a drive around here to see if she calms down.” You left one kiss on his forehead and then briefly nuzzled your noses together.

He nodded and you could see the relief on his face knowing he was going to have a bunch of minutes of silence. Before you could exit the door he called you, tiredness obvious in his voice.

“Y/N,” poor boy, he really was tired “today I drove some people from the team to the circuit when we went testing, I moved the babies’ seats in the trunk.” He rubbed one hand over his eyes, you could tell he was going to fall asleep soon.

“Ok Georgie, thanks.” You left another kiss but on his lips before leaving.

When you were in the driveway you started talking to the baby still in your arms, “Mel you see the stars?” you pointed your fingers to the sky, “look how shining they are! And that’s the moon baby”. Even this attempt was totally futile, instead your baby started again to whisper phan, phan. You sighed heavily, understanding it was a lost fight. You just hoped the car ride would make her fall asleep.

You went to open the trunk to take the seat and that was when you saw it: a glimpse of a plushie ear popping up from under the seat. You quickly lifted it and there you saw the elephant: it had been under there the whole day and now it was a bit flattened from the weight of the seat.

You immediately grabbed it and showed it to the baby, “Mel look! It’s phan!”

That sentence seemed to awaken your whining baby. Her eyes literally lit up when she saw the animal in your hand and she wasted no time in catching it. As soon as she had it in her hands she put it in her mouth and you could see her drooling. Good old habits.

The car ride was useless in the end and you were ready to come back in. However you couldn’t forget George’s tired and sad face. You came up pretty quickly with an idea. While Amelia was still biting her plushie you hurried yourself to collect a couple of sunflowers from the ones you had been growing in your garden and you put them in your baby’s hand.

She stared at you right in the eyes while you were speaking, “Listen Mel,” you pointed a finger to the flowers, “now we give these to dada, because even if he’s tired he went to the store just to look for phan. You give them to him and you say ‘thank you dada’, fine?” She just shook her hands and you could only sigh, hoping she had understood.

George was still on the sofa when you entered, he lifted his head up as soon as he heard the door opening: he clearly couldn’t understand why you were already back. When he saw that Mel had her toy in her mouth he heaved a sigh of relief: he was going to be able to sleep later that night.

You placed Amelia on his lap and the baby started giggling at the sight of her daddy. George was still tired but this time you saw a little smile he was trying to hold back. No matter how tired or angry he was, his babies could lift his mood in a second.

You handed the flowers to Mel and she gave them to George. Seeing his confused face you reminded your daughter, “Baby, what do you say?” She seemed to struggle for a moment but then she babbled “Tek dada phan”

George’s eyes filled with tears, a blend of commotion and tiredness, and he hugged the baby tightly, keeping her close to his chest. “Anytime baby” he whispered on the top of her head before pressing a kiss there.

The baby then quickly threw herself out of her dad’s arms, falling on the couch next to her half-asleep sister and screaming “EMA! PHAN!” Both then began to play with their animals, mainly smashing one against the other, but happiness was blatant on their faces and in their little laughs. That’s the only thing that matters you thought as you fell into George’s arms, a soft smile adorning both your mouths.

4. Braiding time with super dada

You were running late, extremely late. George had decided to bring you and the twins to the event he had been invited to, an occasion to spend some family time - and also to give the audience the content they loved.

You had just finished your shower and had worn the suit you had chosen with your best friend: a plain black suit that felt very comfortable and which you preferred to an elegant dress, considering that you would spend the whole night running after two toddlers who loved to walk around everywhere ever since they had learnt how to.

George was for sure going to spend the night talking to important people and other celebrities, so you had already reckoned that looking after the kids would be on you. You didn’t mind though: Emma and Amelia were becoming more and more of comedians, always managing to put a smile on everyone’s face and laughing for anything.

When you walked out your bedroom and you arrived in the living room what you found was a battlefield. Emma was running around shouting dadadada - her favourite word apparently - while George was busy trying to braid Amelia’s hair. He was wearing his trousers only and he was clearly in a rush, unsuccessfully attempting to make braids out of your daughter’s hair. The girl wasn’t helping though, too busy laughing and moving her head to follow her sister’s running.

You caught Emma just before she could bump against the wall and you brought her on the sofa placing her on your knees; George next to you breathed a sigh of relief. Both girls were still laughing out loud for no reason, and in the end you couldn’t help but giggle as well.

George was staring at you as if you had three heads. You tried to contain your laugh, “Sorry bubs but you know their laughs are contagious.” He slightly shook his head, knowing that deep down you were right.

“Ok girls, listen now,” you called the attention of your babies, “now mommy puts cartoons on the TV and you watch them whilst we do your hair, fine?”

“MOMMY TOONS!” Emma shouted, so you grabbed the remote and set some random ‘Peppa Pig’ episode, a cult classic to make the girls sit still.

“Ok babe now let’s braid these princesses’ hair.” You winked at your boyfriend before starting your work. Both Emma and Amelia loved to be dressed in the same way, so you had picked two identical dresses and decided to braid both their hair, embellishing it with some little bow hair band.

Halfway through your work of art Amelia spoke, “Mama, dada good wok?” she asked, wanting to know if her dad’s work was coming out well.

You smiled and nodded to your girl, “Of course baby, your dad is good at everything, isn’t he?” and your baby nodded back.

George had really become a master in taking care of the girls throughout the years, and he would do anything gladly: from brushing their hair to choosing their outfits, cooking them their favourite meal - fruit salad with too many strawberries, and he even loved cooking biscuits with them to surprise you in the morning.

You made sure to take photos whenever you caught them in one of these moments and you sometimes would share them in your stories. The fans would go insane for those frames you provided them and every time ‘Dad George’ would trend on twitter for hours.

“Super dada” Emma exclaimed after a couple of seconds; you saw George’s eyes immediately paint with tears, he still wasn’t used to it even after two years - and you honestly thought he would never go to.

‘Super dada’ was the writing you decided to print on your daughters’ onesies for George’s first Father’s Day: that morning you had carefully placed them on his chest and they had woken him up - well, as much as two two-month-old babies could do, and when your boyfriend had opened his eyes he had found you beside him with his breakfast on a tray and a present in your hands.

When he then had picked Amelia up he had noticed the onesies and that was when he bursted into tears. The twins had quickly followed and in a couple of minutes the four of you were all crying. Needless to say that was one of the most beautiful - and most emotional - days of your lives, one you wouldn’t easily forget.

After a while your girls’ hair was ready so you carefully placed them on the sofa, Peppa Pig still playing on the screen, hoping they wouldn’t destroy their look while you two finished getting ready. When both of you were standing you gently slapped George’s butt, “Hey!” he exclaimed, turning to face you with an amused expression on his face.

“C'mon Mister, we don’t wanna be late and you still need to finish dressing up!” you encouraged him while you headed to the shoe cabinet to grab your heels.

“I’m sure neither you nor the fans would mind if I showed up like this, I mean-” he pointed at his six pack, “this is some hot sight, right?”

You came back with the shoes in your hand and you couldn’t help but laugh at his foolishness, “I’m sure it is but I’d like to keep it just for me,” you went to hug him, “and besides your fans see already enough in those thirst traps of yours that you love to post.” You crossed your arms falsely pissed whilst he laughed.

“Well then-” he stopped to lower his mouth to your ear, “I’ll make sure you’ll be the only one who will enjoy this sight tonight.” As he whispered you felt a shiver running down your spine

“Well, deal.” You replied in the same tone before leaning in to leave a kiss on his lips.

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cutielando · 2 months

Text

mercedes ~ george russell

Summary: You've been with George since his Formula 2 days, and now, after an awful season with Williams, he is finally given the opportunity to drive for Mercedes and you were beyond proud of him.

Words: 1.2k+

Other works: my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

Being with Williams had been a great period for George.

He had the opportunity to learn everything about Formula 1, adapt to the new more challenging lifestyle, see so many more new places all around the globe, it was the dream.

At the beginning, at least.

It had been a known fact for years that Williams had been struggling, both on-track and off-track. Even though George had placed his faith in the team, giving them multiple chances when they would constantly disappoint him, he was nearing the end of the line.

His contract was about to expire at the end of the season, and he was seriously considering not re-signing with Williams.

You and him would have multiple talks about this, brainstorming and trying to see what the best course of action would be for George's future.

"I just know things won't get better in the future and I am tired of always being at the back of the grid" he told you one night as he was helping you prepare dinner for the two of you.

"Georgie, you have to do what's best for you, my love. You don't have to stay with the team if you don't see your future there" you explained, approaching him and rubbing his back.

He sighed, leaning into your touch.

"You've followed the season, Williams isn't gonna get better anytime soon, I'm wasting my talent if I stick with them any longer"

You pursed your lips, nodding in agreement.

George had so much potential, so much talent that was being wasted in bad strategies and with an awful car. The highlight of the whole season had been the race where Mercedes requested that George drive for them because Lewis was sick and couldn't make it.

You vividly remembered how excited George had been when he told you he had been chosen, how alive he felt when he got out of the car after the race and with how much excitement he told you all the details about it in your hotel room that very same night.

You had never before seen him so happy, his eyes sparkling so brightly they could outshine any star in the sky.

His dream had always been to drive for Mercedes, to be a proud driver of such a legendary team. He figured he would start small, build up his reputation and then make the transition.

That, however, proved to be a very tough thing to do while driving the Williams car.

"What do you think I should do?" he asked you, his eyes boring into yours.

You always had a way with words, but your eyes would have conversations of their own when you'd look at each other.

"I think you should follow your dream and listen to your gut. You're such a talented driver, my love, but you're wasting it away by sticking with a team you can't win with" you said, a small encouraging smile on your face as you caressed his cheek with the pad of your thumb.

He sighed but nodded, smiling before leaning down to peck your lips.

His mind had been made up from that moment. He knew what he needed to do.

He needed to leave Williams.

♡♡♡♡♡

Planning to leave a Formula 1 team while having no guarantee about your future with any other was incredibly and stupidly risky.

But George had done it anyway.

After the second-to-last race of the season had ended and the team was debriefing, he had made it clear to everyone that he would not be returning as a driver for the next season.

Everyone, of course, was not very surprised by that. They could feel it coming, they knew they weren't strong enough to keep George as their driver for much longer.

"How did it go?" you had asked him when he came back to the hotel, anxious to hear about the meeting.

The relief on his face was enough of an answer for you.

"I'm free of the contract after Abu Dhabi" he announced, slumping into your arms and nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

You laughed, happy that George had finally made the decision that had been plaguing his mind for months on end.

"What are you going to do after?" you asked once you slowly backed away from the hug.

He sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't know, but I have faith that everything will work itself out"

You nodded, kissing his cheek before bringing him into another hug.

"We're going to be okay" you whispered, one of your hands caressing his soft hair while the other rubbed soothing circles on his back.

Whatever the future might bring on, you would face it together.

♡♡♡♡♡

Having some time off had proved to be exactly what George had needed.

For once, in many many years, he didn't have to worry about when the next race would be, he didn't have to worry about cheating his diet, about working out as constantly as he had had to during the previous years. He could finally just relax and take a breath of fresh air.

The two of you had been on holiday, traveling all around the world to the most beautiful places, taking in the quality time you got to spend together, uninterrupted by anything.

Sadly, your fun had been cut short while you were skiing in the beautiful Alpes, deep into the south of France.

You had been lounging in the cabin George had rented for your stay, drinking some hot chocolate while cuddled up next to your boyfriend in front of the burning fireplace. Your phones long forgotten somewhere in the bedroom, the only sound disturbing the peace being the crackling coming from the fire.

Just as you were about to doze off, George's phone suddenly started ringing from the bedroom, making him apologize before quickly getting up to grab it.

"Hello?" his voice drowned out as he closed the door behind him, not wanting to disturb you.

You didn't know how long he had been talking on the phone, losing track of time while looking out the window at the beautiful scenery around you. You only noticed he had returned when he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin against your shoulder.

"Who was it?" you mumbled, leaning back against his chest.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you" he chuckled, making your curiosity peak even more.

You raised your eyebrows, turning around in his arms.

"Now you've made me curious. Who was it?"

"Toto Wolff"

Your eyes widened when you heard the name, your heart starting to beat more quickly inside of your chest. You knew what that meant, there was only one option.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" your voice was merely a whisper, afraid you would jinx it and then it wouldn't be real anymore.

He smiled and nodded, making you squeal and jump into his arms.

The both of you laughed, basking in the happiness that the good news had brought you.

There had been rumors that Valtteri would be leaving Mercedes and they wanted to bring in a younger driver, someone to balance out Lewis. For months on end, speculation circled around George being the driver Toto had been eyeing, but there hadn't been any official communication from the team whatsoever.

Until now.

George Russell, your boyfriend, the Mercedes F1 driver.

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starkwlkr · 1 year

Text

and i love her | george russell

faceclaim suki waterhouse

Liked by y/nsbitch, lucky1s and 2,738 others

y/nscorner Y/n tonight in Liverpool. Her family was backstage. Towards the end, she sang blackbird with her grand father.

formulapodiums33 twitter said George was also there

y/nscorner who the fuck is George?

goodlookingwhore the f1 bitches are here y/n get behind me baby

gr6963 if it wasn’t for George the song in your username wouldn’t have been written soooooo

goodlookingwhore you watch grown men drive in circles and crash into each other for a trophy

russellsgeorge DID YOU JUST ADMIT GEORGE IS A GOOD LOOKING WHORE

view all 1,478 comments

Liked by schecoperez, jodiecomer and 2,462,270 others

y/nmccartney cars go fast 🏎️ 💨

charles_leclerc everyone is a Ferrari fan

georgerussell63 keep telling yourself that, mate!

charles_leclerc what more proof do you want?

georgerussell63 at least i have songs written about me.

landonorris THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING

scuderiaferrari great choice in teams! 😉

mercedesamgf1 wait until you see what Sir Paul McCartney says is his favorite team

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Liked by Georgerussell63, stellamccartney and 1,748,640 others

y/nmccartney red was never my color actually

Mercedesamgf1 red is overrated anyways

Georgerussell63 I felt like I needed to comment some sort of Beatles lyrics, but I have no idea which one.

y/nmccartney how about you don’t do that and come cuddle before your race?

Georgerussell63 that sounds better

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#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #gr63 #george russell #george russell x reader #george russell imagine #george russell one shot

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paddockbunny · 1 year

Text

The Right Man

Summary : George is one of your longest friends but he’s also your boss, and it’s wrong to have a crush on your best friend and boss right?! Rating : 16+ but please check the TWs Pairing : George Russell x Reader Word Count : 2,124. Trigger Warnings : adult themes, adult language, kissing, unrequited love delectation, best friend trope, boss employee trope, angsty but nothing too bad

Gif owner : @russellius 🥰

Authors note : Still sick but feeling better, thank god! I don’t know if I like this enough but I thought I’d post it and see what you guys thought. Also this fucking app decided not to save my original formatted post so there are a line or two that are missing and I can’t remember what they were so please forgive me if this makes no sense, I’ll run back through it at some point! The “read more” thing will be put in when I can 😘

The party buzzed around the small group you were a part of. Music thumped away in the background and the sound of people enjoying their summer holidays blended amongst it. You hadn’t been to Mykonos before. Hell, you hadn’t even been to Greece before but it was George that insisted you chum him on his summer break that brought you here.

“Keep me company and out of mischief” as he put it. And that was what you were currently doing. You had nursed your fruity cocktail for nearly 40 minutes - the ice slowly turning into water and diluting the strong alcohol due to the stiflingly hot Grecian air - so to keep a clear, open head incase George needed you. Although the notion of him needing you right now seemed ridiculous seeing as he hadn’t needed you professionally this whole trip. A few times you had even thought he might have wanted you here for other reasons. Just yesterday, while out on that yacht he chartered, you were convinced he was eyeing you up when you strolled outside in your bikini. But you almost became certain he had brought you along on false pretences when he practically pulled you into his lap when someone made everyone get together for a group photograph. You could still feel the imprint of his large oversized hand on the curve of your waist. It was almost seared on your flesh like a griddle mark on a piece of tuna. But then you thought he was just being George. Sweet, gentle, gorgeous George. The same one that had asked you to be his personal assistant without you having a single idea what the hell personal assistants even really did. The same George that as a result of that job allowed you to travel the world with him. The George that trusted you, implicitly. That was why your little fantasy of the “boss falling for his employee” seemed so far out of the realms of possibility it simply failed to even comprehend it could exist.

“…and what about you? Boyfriend?” The guy who seemed to know George very well asked, turning to you and shooting you a slight smirking smile “or girlfriend?”

“Uh no. No boyfriend. And no girlfriend.” You glanced at George upon your last word and you saw the cheeky hint of a grin momentarily glide across his mouth. You wanted to believe he had just had the vision of you and another girl together and he was enjoying the thought of it. Typical male fantasy, you figured. “Why? You are a beautiful, beautiful girl.” You realised the man that was talking to you seemed familiar and had a thick Spanish accent but seemed a tad out of place in such a noisy busy bar. Although, you felt you were being a little judgmental as he might have been younger than his salt and peppered dark hair would lead you to believe and besides, you were sure you recognised him from somewhere but you pushed the thought out of your mind in order to answer him.

“Haven’t found the right man.” You shouted above the music and this guys eyes instantly shot toward George which although made you feel sort of awkward, you also felt a bit “wait-a-minute-why-are-you-looking-at-him-and-does-that-mean-something-I-probably-should-know”-ish.

The night ended a little earlier than you had anticipated. You thought George would want to be out till the small hours of the morning. Partying, living it up and being centre of attention. But instead, George whispered in your ear he was ready to leave only an hour or so after the conversation with that guy (who you still couldn’t quite put your finger on how you knew) and so you organised a car to come and the you both up to go back to the beautiful villa he had rented. In the car you became aware that although the ice had been slowly melting in your drinks it had not diluted the alcohol quite as much as you thought it did and so the buzz you were feeling was very much real. Hearing George’s laugh as you swayed while the car went round a rather dramatic corner made you laugh yourself.

“Those drinks were stronger than I thought they were.” “That’s why you only had three and nursed them all the whole night? A little lightweight are we?” He enjoyed having a little fun with you. Mocking and playfully taunting you. Afterall, he was the only person in your life that could get away with it without you ever feeling offended. But that was what came with the decades of friendship the pair of you had. And it was the precise thing you were worried about when George asked you to work for him. You didn’t want to ruin the jovial, relaxed vibes between the pair of you that took so long to build. It may have also been the exact reason you always felt a little dirty and gross whenever you had a rather sexual dream about him or found yourself envisioning him whenever you touched yourself. But even if you were his friend and employee, you were only female and George was insanely hot so you always forgave yourself for it rather quickly.

The drinks really did work a wonder on you as by the time you reached the villa your body coursed with an free spirited buzz. It was a buzz that meant you hadn’t realised that any time whatsoever had passed even if it took a solid 25 minutes to get back to the impressively large abode overlooking the beautiful Aegean Sea. It was also a buzz that meant that you only felt happiness and joy and not any of those horrible other emotions people usually felt when they got a little too close to drunk rather than simply tipsy. Independently you strolled through the door after George. You thought you would head straight to your room and give him the space he was probably seeking when he decided to leave the club. But George gently said your name and asked if you wanted another drink, if you would have another drink with him. You accepted, without so much as a second thought.

George poured the pair of you two glasses of wine. You watched as the deep, dark crimson liquid flowed quickly from the bottle and swirled around as it filled two thin glistening glasses. He simply motioned toward the patio beyond the open doors behind you as he carried your glass for you. You took a second to think how lucky any girl would be who ended up with George. He was a gentleman with slightly old fashioned values. He always held open a door for a woman, offered his hand if needed or his arm if there were a pair of high heels involved, and he never let a girl carry anything. So right now, as he carried your glass outside for you, you felt a little high rush through you and allowed yourself to think of what it would be like if it were YOU that were his. The weight of the cushioned patio sofa dipped beside you after you sat down and it immediately brought you out of your trance.

The conversation was always easy. There was never a second it didn’t flow and it was never, ever forced. You knew everything there really was to know about one and other and so it was so comfortable and easy to talk to him. You took a sip from the emptying wine glass and realised George’s head was turned and his eyes were staring straight at you.

“What?” You whispered and he had that naughty glint in his eye that he had earlier when that Spanish guy asked if you had a girlfriend. “Why haven’t you found the right guy?” He asked it so plainly. It was exactly what you had said back in that bar. “That was what you said, you haven’t found the right guy.” You knew what you said. You didn’t need it repeating to you. Not by one of your closest friends that you happen to be having regular smutty thoughts about. “I don’t know….just haven’t.” You shrugged. Trying to muster up a little bit of sass as you did so so he didn’t see how awkward the question had made you.

“Well….what you look for?” You hadn’t thought the conversation was going anywhere specific but certainly not in the direction it currently was where George was offering to be a one man dating app. You sensed he would keep pressing the idea of you spilling what it was you wanted in a guy until you gave in, either tonight or at some point in the near future. So with the alcohol running through you you decided now wasn’t the time to put up a fight.

“Well….” You took a big inhale as if it were going to save you from the situation of explaining your ideal guy to, well, your ideal guy. “He has to be smart. Someone I can hold a conversation with. And I’d want someone who can make me laugh. Who makes boring, mundane things fun and enjoyable. And obviously a guy who is big on family and naturally wants his own someday. But also someone that makes me feel at ease and relaxed around them. Who makes me feel supported and as if I can take on the whole world.” You had started off by being generic and then as you went on and turned your head to look into those fucking soul boring eyes he had, you began tailoring it more and more to what you could say about him himself. George was every single one of the things you had described and it really was utterly stupid that you were somewhat ousting yourself in such a needy fashion. “But….physically, would be tall, dark and handsome. Strong but not too strong. Well groomed, maintained. Smouldering, simmering eyes like Idris Elba. And I guess, what girl wouldn’t want a guy with a big dick?” You laughed and George did too, but ducked his head down so you didn’t quite see it.

When George finally looked up at you you felt the strange shift in the atmosphere. It went from lighthearted and merry to sort of tense in a millisecond. Nervously, just for something to do you placed your glass on the coffee table right next to his. Had you overstepped a line? You’d talked about guys with him before, specific guys, and this had never happened. The burning need to find out if you had gone too far had you turning your body so you were angled more toward him and opening your mouth to apologise. When without a single shred of warning, warm, slick lips were on yours. George’s lips were on yours.

It took you a few seconds for your brain to catch up but when it did you immediately began kissing him back. You had thought about this moment so frequently that it truly felt rather impossible it was actually happening. And now, as his tongue swiped along your lower lip and his hand found the back of your head, you let a tiny small moan of appreciation rumble through your vocal cords. As you gave permission for George’s tongue to enter your mouth and caress your own he began to lean into you. An action that resulted in you slowly falling against the sofa pillows behind with George baring down on top of you. It was everything you had been wanting for the past few months and it dawned on you that perhaps you were right in your assumptions George wanted you too. You were so lost in thought that when he stopped kissing you momentarily you almost didn’t open your eyes.

“When you told Fernando you hadn’t found the right man, did you mean it?” “No.” You answered immediately. “I’ve known you were the right man when we first met as children. I just, didn’t think you would want me.” Your chest was heaving from either the kiss or the declaration you were making and you knew your eyes had to have been looking up at him full of expectation and longing.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen. Of course, I fucking want you. I’ll never stop wanting you.” And then he kissed you again. It was all you had wanted to hear. The looks, the touches, the burning and feelings weren’t in your head at all. But in the moment all you could focus on what his mouth, his tongue, his taste. Your brain blocked out everything else so it was all about George’s kiss. Allowing you to finally enjoy what you had been longing for for so long.

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