#th gr | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

svngiem-remade · 1 year

Text

PHOTO ALBUM | hhj

🧸 pairing. hwang hyunjin + gn!reader

synopsis. your best friend's birthday was right around the corner, and as you were in the process of deciding which pictures you should print for the photo album you got him as a present, you finally admit that maybe you never got over your crush on him.

🌙 wc. 2.2k | au. nonidol!au; college!au; childhood friend to lovers; fluff

You were seven when you met Hyunjin.

It was a warm, sunny day— the birds were chirping and the smell of flowers and freshly cut grass filled your lungs as you happily skipped towards the moving truck, picking up a big cardboard box containing the stuff that used to fill the shelves of your now old bedroom. You secured it in your arms and took a few wobbly steps towards your new home, a few drops of sweat already starting to run down your forehead— and that was what it took for you to realize, a moment too late, that the box was just too heavy for you.

Thud.

The cardboard box slipped away from your grasp and fell right on your almost bare feet, which made you wail out a pained, “MOM!” You dropped on the concrete, vision completely blurred out by tears as you sobbed and tried sliding your throbbing toes from beneath what felt to be as heavy as a thousand pounds of bricks. You sniffled and kept sobbing out, “M—mom! D—dad!” as hard as you could, but your voice was getting weaker by the second.

Thankfully, though your parents still hadn't noticed your distress, a little boy who was riding his bycicle in the front yard right next to yours did. All your crying and sobbing prevented you from hearing his loud gasp and subsequent running towards your hunched figure. You opened your eyes as a blurb of colors crouched down in front of you, “Please, s—stop crying, I’ll help you— ” the boy said, panic filling his sweet voice as you kept weeping loudly, “Wait— here, I’ll try lifting this up, okay?” he gulped, and you nodded profusely. You just wanted to stop that terrible pain that now was starting to shoot up your ankles.

“Yes, ple—please, it hurts s—so much!” you hiccuped, wiping your tears away hastily and clasping your hands around your ankles for extra pull, since you weren't 100% sure you’d be able to slide them out otherwise.

“I’ll be counting to three, okay?” he said as he placed his bent fingers under the gap crushing your darkening feet. He turned to look at your face, your quivering bottom lip, tear-stained cheeks and trembling arms broke his small heart, but gave him extra motivation to help you out, “So! One… Two…”

“Three!” he exclaimed, using all his strength to pull up the heavy cardboard box just enough to let you free.

You let out a sigh of relief as you felt the heavy weight come off, pulling your ankles closer to yourself and immediately starting to stroke your throbbing, darkening toes, though tears built up in your eyes once again as you realized you couldn't feel them, “They are broken! Brok—en! Th—that’s not f—fair!” you sobbed, burying your face between your knees.

The boy pouted and hugged your trembling body gently, rubbing his hands up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you. You sniffled and hugged him back, now loudly crying on his shoulder, “You live in this house, right? Let me help you get u—” he started saying, but got interrupted by your mom’s panicked voice.

“Sweetie! Oh my God, I’m so sorry! We were upstairs moving some furniture around and didn't hear you!” your mom said, running over to your small figures and crouching down to check on your feet, which looked completely wrecked. She shot a grateful gaze at the boy that was still comforting you, “Thank you so much for taking care of them.” she said with a small smile. He nodded.

In the meantime, you’d just realized your clothes were completely soaked in your own sweat and a horrible pain was shooting in your head due to the prolonged time the hot summer sun had been mercilessly hitting you on the head, it felt like you were burning up. “Too hot…” you managed to grunt, and the boy cradling you, wordlessly, took off his colorful baseball cap and secured it on your own head instead, giving you an encouraging smile when you wiped off your tears and looked up at him with a pout.

He ended the hug suddenly, causing your bottom lip to quiver again, so he gasped and hugged you again, “Hey, hey, no need to cry! You’ll be just fine now, your mom's here, she’s going to take you inside and take care of you.” you sniffled and nodded, “I’m Hyunjin, by the way!” he said with a big grin, and you mirrored it without even thinking about it.

And ever since he basically had to carry you inside of your new house, given that you just wouldn't let him go, a day hasn't gone by without either of you hearing from or seeing the other. You always had to know and let the other know what you were up to, who you were with and find even the smallest gap between your very different schedules to hang out, be it during the day or at the dead of night.

Everything you and Hyunjin ever seemed to talk about to your other friends was, in some way, related to the other, summer and winter vacations were always spent together, you were each other’s declared-undeclared cuddle buddies and even picked up similar interests up to spend more time together, allegedly, though none of you would ever admit it.

You were Platonic Soulmates, as you both liked to put it.

But as you sat on the floor of your shared apartment and looked through the seemingly endless pictures you took with Hyunjin from day 1 ‘till today, wondering which ones you should print to fill the slots of the new photo album you’d just bought as a gift for his upcoming birthday, you realised that maybe, just maybe, you never got over your small —big— crush on him.

And it was so painfully obvious.

You’ve been scrolling through the pictures on your phone and looking through the already printed ones in your box of old memories all afternoon, and you noticed the lingering gazes you always seemed to throw at him in all of them— be it in candid photos taken by your friends or random selfies with him.

But how could you deny the way you blushed when he complimented one of your flower paintings for the first time as children, or the way your heart fluttered when he started showing interest in your hobby, sweetly saying it was because of you and how cute you looked when you were concentrating?

And after you moved in together to be closer to your university and split the rent, your feelings grew even more. Seeing your crush dry his hair with a towel as he walked around your apartment half-naked, how he cared for you when you felt sick, him using the hair treatment you’d gifted him months ago with a big smile— it all made you think he may reciprocate your feelings.

But, “Hmpf— Who am I kidding?” you huffed as you stared at your lockscreen picture, which showed off your latest picture with Hyunjin; both on your mutual friend’s couch with your legs swung over his lap, one of his hands gripping your thigh as you laughed about something, not even realising one of your friends was taking a picture of you until he sent it to you the next day. As always, you had an enamoured look on your face, “Why do I like him so much anyways?” you mumbled, pouting at Kkami, who was lazily walking towards you to cuddle after a long nap on her fluffy dog bed.

She nudged your arm with her nose, as if she wanted to comfort you, before climbing on your crossed legs and yawning, “Oh. You—You like someone?” you heard a stutter behind you, and you turned around, facing Hyunjin.

He looked so good in his usual blue jeans and baggy t-shirt, covered by a big cardigan you’d made yourself for him when you tried out a knitting class together. Your heart fluttered— it was the first time you’d seen him wear it, “Is that the one I made you? Is it comfortable enough?” you asked softly as you looked up at him, trying to avoid answering his question.

Hyunjin sighed and placed down the multitude of bags he’d been carrying around for hours, then stretched, “Yes, it is. And it’s extremely comfortable.” he said, taking quick strides across the room with his long legs, and crouching next to you, placing a hand on your head, “Oh, you bought a photo albu—” he started saying as you widened your eyes. Shit.

Before you could even think, you yelled— “Don’t look!” and tackled him down, pinning him to the ground by the wrists. Shock showed up on his gentle features, before he pouted his plump lips. It took everything in you to stop yourself from leaning down to connect them with your own, not knowing that was all the boy under you dreamed about as well, “Don’t make that face!” you whined when he gave you his puppy eyes. That bastard, he knew they were your weakness.

“But I’m curious…” he protested, turning his head to try to take a peek at what you were trying to hide, “I swear, Y/N! I’m going to scream if you don’t let me go.” Hyunjin whined.

“Come on, Hwang. Stop being drama—” you stopped talking when his gaze suddenly turned serious and he frowned.

“I won't look if you answer my question.” he whispered, looking you in the eyes. Fuck. You thought he forgot.

“Wha—” you started, breaking eye contact.

He rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw, freeing one of his hands from your grip before squishing your cheeks gently to turn your face towards him, “Don’t play dumb with me, please. You’ve been avoiding it for far too long now.” he whispered, his minty breath hitting your face delicately.

You felt your face burning up and you closed your eyes— you didn't think you could handle his gaze without spilling out your feelings immediately, “I-I’m not playing dumb, I-I just don’t like anyone, tha-that’s why I never answer.”

“Bullshit. I literally heard you say, and I quote ‘Why do I like him so much anyway?’” you gulped and bit your lip, now looking him in the eyes, “What, am I not important enough to know who my best friend is in love with or what? Who is it, hm? Jeongin? Minho? Cha—” he rambled without end, but now you had enough. Enough.

“Fuck, Hyunjin, it’s YOU! It’s you I have a crush on! Is it not fucking obvious?!” you blurted out, and he widened his eyes, dropping the hold on your cheeks. Your eyes watered as you balled your fists on his torso, looking down at your hands, ashamed, “I’ve been in love with you ever since we were seven, and coming home and having dinner together, cuddling in front of the tv or noticing how you always toast a slice of bread for me before you head out to your lectures, seeing how painfully obvious it is that I like you from the way I look at you in basically any picture we ever took together fucking pains me, because I know you don't and will never see me that way.” you cried in the tense silence of your darkening living room, sliding off of his body to sit up next to him. He still wouldn't mutter out a word.

I lost him. I lost my best friend. Why couldn't I keep my shitty mouth shut? I ruined everyth— “Who.” you shot your head up.

“What?” your voice cracked, and you tilted your head in confusion when you saw his wide grin.

Your breath caught in your throat when he tackled you down on the floor, just like you did moments before with him. Your teary eyes latched onto his, looking for anything, anything that could mean that that was the last time you’d ever interact, bracing yourself to be told that he wanted you out of your apartment— though all you could find was fondness. One of his hands slowly found your darkening cheek, caressing it delicately, making you feel as if you were in heaven. “Who.” he leaned down, pecking your forehead softly, and you closed your eyes, “Told.” a peck on the nose, “You.” on your other cheek, “That.” and on the lips.

Your eyes opened wide, “Hyun—” you mumbled as his pillow-like lips repeatedly tasted your own sweetly, lingering on them more and more by the second.

Your breath quickened, your trembling fingers soon finding themselves between his soft locs as he swept his hot tongue on your bottom lip slowly, tasting your sweet aroma for the first time— his dark eyes never leaving yours, conveying much more than words ever could; but still, a continuous back and forth of breathy “I love you” and “I love you so much more” were the only words either of you seemed to remember the existence of for the rest of the evening.

please reblog, comment and like, feedback is very much appreciated, plus, I love reading your thoughts!

→ masterlist.

taglist : @strayingawayy

631 notes · View notes

jamminvroomvroom · 1 year

Text

both of you. part 7.

gr x fem!reader

find parts 1-6 on my masterlist!

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

in which you look back on how your lives changed.

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

5.5k words

three years later…

bahrain, march 2025. saturday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

brazil, november 2023.

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

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

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

“it’s time, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“george… are we doing this?”

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

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

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

“i love you, george.”

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

silverstone, july 2024. sunday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

after all, race day at silverstone was always chaos.

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

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

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

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

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

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

that’s when you felt it.

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

“oh, fuck.” you whispered.

babies sure knew how to pick their moments.

“i need to tell him.”

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

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

“if he misses the birth of his child-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

winning your home grand prix was rare.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“tell me!” you beamed.

“don’t laugh. or cringe or whatever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

home, august 2024.

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

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

enter: sylvie.

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

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

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

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

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

“absolutely love it.” you mused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“will you marry me?”

there was only one possible answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your poor daughter.

bahrain, 2025. sunday.

george was leading the race. typical.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

george russell would always be the one for you.

taglist

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

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

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

346 notes · View notes