#gr63 x reader

@ yourusername and @ georgerussell63

♡ 452k 🗨️ 3,456 ↺ 19.8k ➤ 57.2k

liked by georgerussell63, lilymhe and others

yourusername: baby russell loading...

view all comments

lilymhe ✓: quite literally mother now

↳ yourusername ✓: ily lilssss

alexandramalenaleclerc ✓: congratulations! you two will make the sweetest parents!

↳ yourusername ✓: you're the really mommy 😉

↳ georgerussel63 ✓: ??????

alex_albon ✓: congratulations guys!!

↳ georgerussel63 ✓: thank you mate

user: first 2019 rookie baby

user: THEY'RE GONNA BE SUCH GOOD PARENTS!!

@ yourusername

♡ 517k 🗨️ 3,399 ↺ 21.2k ➤ 46.8k

liked by georgerussell63, alexandramalenaleclerc and others

yourusername: its a girl! 🩷

view all comments

georgerussell63 ✓: two angels to spoil 🩷

↳ yourusername ✓: i love you so much!

↳ georgerussel63 ✓: i love you too

alexandramalenaleclerc ✓: already planning the shopping trips liked by creator

lilymhe ✓: i’m so excited to babysit the little princess!! liked by creator

lando ✓: congrats guys! liked by creator

alex_albon ✓: i can’t wait to be an uncle liked by creator

user: i can already imagine how much george and yn are going to spoil her

user: YES TEAM GIRL!!!

@ georgerussell63

♡ 764k 🗨️ 5,294 ↺ 24.6k ➤ 87.6k

liked by yourusername, mercedesamgf1 and others

georgerussel63: one last getaway as two @ yourusername

view all comments

user: she’s so beautiful.

user: george is so aesthetic 😭

user: i can already imagine the baby in little mercedes merch

lando ✓: time is literally flying by! super excited for you guys

alex_albon ✓: i can’t believe she’s almost here!

↳ yourusername ✓: you’re commenting like you’re carrying the baby 😭

↳ alex_albon ✓: george is still mine that’s why.

↳ yourusername ✓: great! i’ll swap him for @ lilymhe

↳ lilymhe ✓: oh yes please

↳ georgerussel63 ✓: ????

↳ alex_albon ✓: ????

@ yourusername

♡ 329k 🗨️ 4,374 ↺ 19.6k ➤ 58.7k

liked by georgerussel63, lilyzneimer and others

yourusername: ☀️ + 🧑‍🧑‍🧒 @ georgerussel63

view all comments

user: the way she always makes room for a holiday even while pregnant! what a queen

user: this is going to be the most precious baby ever!

user: diva george on the loose

alexandramalenaleclerc ✓: hope you guys have the best of time! liked by creator

lilymhe ✓: you look so beautiful mama! liked by creator

@ yourusername and @ georgerussell63

♡ 986k 🗨️ 10.1k ↺ 30.7k ➤ 185k

liked by mercedesamgf1, lilymhe and others

yourusername: welcome to the world 👣🍼

comments are disabled for this post

'are you awake?' george asks quietly, raising up on his elbows to get a good look at your face. you nod and he smiles, leaning in to leave a sweet kiss on your shoulder. 'good morning, my sweet wife.'

you giggle, turning fully to look at him. part of you wanted to tease him, but when you make eye contact and you see how he looks at you, all these thoughts disappear. george has always been very open about his feelings for you, always voiced out loud what you mean to him and made sure that you know where you stand in his life. but he didn't really have to say all of this, because his eyes told it all; the way he was looking at you always was louder than his words. reverence in his touch, awe in his eyes, fondness in his tone - george was like that from the day one and time didn't change him at all. even the way he looks at you right now, like you are the most wonderful painting, a sky full of stars, the most-

'how did i get so lucky?' he whispers, looking all over your face in an awe. 'you are by my side and you are my wife. life doesn't get better than that.'

'i got very lucky with my husband too,' you mumble, turning to the side to face him properly. all the love and adoration in his eyes makes your skin tingle.

george's eyes twinkle and he bites his lower lip, leaning. 'you? calling me 'husband?' life actually can get better.'

you laugh and this sound makes his chest squeeze tighter just like always. he hopes it never wears off, this spell you have him under. he hopes no matter how much time will pass, the effect you have on him stays the same. he hopes what is ahead of you as husband and wife is even better than what you had as boyfriend and girlfriend. all of his prayers are filled with you, he hopes you know that.

'someone is awfully cheesy,' you push him back and he goes easily, letting you lay half on top of him.

'did you sleep well?' he asks, caressing your back. while material of his t-shirt which you are wearing is nice, it's not enough to satisfy him; his hand sneaks beneath the t-shirt for the skin to skin contact. 'that flight was too long. how are you feeling?'

'i'm okay,' you answer, looking up. 'and you?'

i am in love, is what george wants to say but instead he leans in to peck your lips. what supposed to be a peck turned into a gentle kiss, because it's an impossible thing to get close to your lips and leave it all just at a peck. he kisses you slowly, throughly, just like he knows you like; after so many years together, your body has no secrets from him. it's as responsive to his touch as it was in the beginning and he takes a pride in that, in making you feel good, in knowing how to do so in mere seconds.

'george,' you call out as he slots his leg in between yours, giving you a perfect place for subtle grinding. which is a very tempting offer, considering how quickly he makes you affected with his kisses. 'we have to go.'

'where?' he asks in between kisses, running his hands all over your body.

'breakfast,' you mutter, turning your head to break the kiss and sighing in pleasure as he starts peppering your neck with kisses. 'aren't you hungry?'

george looks up, grinning. 'for you? always.'

and he doesn't care if it's cheesy and maybe kinda cringy, he knows you are only endeared. there used to be a time when he dreamt of this: of having you next to him like that, not only physically but emotionally as well. then, there used to be time when he dreamt of you two being bonded in a legal sense too. and now it's not a dream anymore, it's a reality, his reality. now that he has it, has you - how do you expect him to ever get enough?

'george, i think-' your voice breaks into a long moan as his fingers slip inside your underwear.

'if you still think then i'm doing a really bad job.'

with how busy you both are, a lot of love making restored to quickies and that is not okay for neither of you; especially not for george. he loves to take his time with you, loves to unravel you like a birthday present and make you sqiurm and beg and pant before he even got naked. it's a privelege to be able to have you intimately like this and he doesn't take it for granted. knowing that now you two have all the time in the world, he's not about to let you go out of bed any time soon. or ever, if he can.

'so lovely,' he whispers, undressing you. 'always so pretty for me, my pretty wife.' when you cover your face being shy, he gently grabs your wrist, making you look at him. 'hey, what is that? why are being shy? is it because i'm calling you 'my pretty wife', hm?' you squeal, trying to close your face again but he doesn't let you, grinning. 'aw, my darling. but i'm not lying, am i? you are my pretty, sweet wife.'

'g,' you whine, kicking your feet a little. this kind of praise leaves you flustered and you don't know what to do apart from staring at him helplessly. 'just-'

'just what?' george interrupts, staring up at you lovingly. 'just go on with it? is that what you wanted to say?' he slips your underwear away, caressing your thighs gently. 'but i want to take my time, love. every inch of you in the most incredible thing that God ever created, i have to worship it right.'

whatever you wanted to say dies on your tongue as he starts kissing you. george is a generous lover, he is all about giving; not a single inch of your skin is left unkissed by the time he finally moves to the place where you want him the most. he loves your reactions, lives for them, really. content sigh here, broken moan there, a shiver, arch of the back, tightening hold on his shoulders, trying to close your thighs to ease the pressure - he notes it all, saves it somewhere at the back of his mind so he can re-live them later on. if george was asked about his favorite activity then making your thighs shake with how he's eating you out would be his answer. being in between your legs, edging you on until you can't help but bracket him with your thighs is something else, a different kind of pleasure.

'g, i'm- oh my god, i'm-' your hips rise up but he pushes them down gently but firmly, not letting you get away from his tongue. 'fuck- so good.'

george hums, continuing to lap at your juices, instering one finger in. 'you can cum whenever you want, princess,' he mutters before diving in to suck on your clit, making you scream. 'i want you to feel good.'

'i feel good, so good, i'm gonna-'

it's beautiful, the way your back arches, how you fist the sheets so tight they almost rip as a long moan penetreates the silence when you finally reach your high. george smiles, pats your thighs soothingly and starts marking them up, inserting second finger in. by the time he's done with you, you should not be able to walk so he can carry you to the jacuzzi he's seen earlier and fuck you there.

'mmm, george,' you call, licking your lips invitingly. 'come kiss me.'

he obliges, how can he not, have you seen yourself? george is not sure he can ever say 'no' to this request. he kisses you, lets you taste yourself on his tongue. 'my sweet, sweet baby,' he whispers, looking at your satisfied expression.

'i thought i'm your sweet wife,' you interject softly, caressing his back. 'do you want me to take care of you too, my husband?'

if his dick twitches at this, he can't be blamed. but it's all about you, just as it always is, so he stubborly shakes his head and instead moves closer to pay attention to your breasts, adding one more finger in. 'i wish we could do it all day,' he confesses, hearing your high pitched whine as he sucks on your nipple. 'i'd do it all day and night with you.'

tangling your fingers in his hair, you tug a little, making him groan. 'i- is that your plan for this honeymoon?' you ask, breathless. first two orgasms always come quickly for you and you can already feel familiar tingling.

george looks at you cheekily. 'you won't be against it, right?' he bites just a little at the swell of your breast, smirking at your sharp intake of breath. 'you won't, i know. you love it as much as i do.' he starts thrusting his fingers faster, watching our face like he's enamored. 'you love it when i make you crazy with want, when i make you cum so many times that you are sore by the end of it, when-' he cuts off, licking in your mouth.

beautiful sounds you make always set him on edge and when you start whining, trashing a little in his hold, he can't help it even if he planned to tease you - he has to give it to you. george curls his fingers just right and you orgasm for the second time, shaking in his arms. he peppers your face with kisses, positioning himself in between your legs, hiking them up. waiting for the tremor to pass, he caresses your face until you open your eyes, aware of your surroundings. 'with me?' he asks and you nod lightly. 'all good?'

you nod again. you feel much better than just 'good', but it's hard to form sentences when you feel him slowly pushing the tip in. 'just like that,' he whispers into your ear, when you will your muscles to relax. 'taking me in so well, breathe for me.'

you want to stay present, but it's impossible to do so when your eyes roll to the back of your head when george fully slots himself in. it feels full and too much, you claw at his chest, whining. 'shh,' he soothes immediately, pushing your foreheads together. 'c'mon love, look at me.'

opening your eyes is a feat but you manage it, blinking up at him. there's so much love and lust and adoration in his gaze that you can choke with it; this man loves you like you always dreamt of being loved - truly, madly, deeply. looping your arms around his neck, you peck his lips as a sign for him to move. 'i love you,' you whisper. you actually want to shout it out, to tell everyone in this world that this man is yours, because that's how he makes you feel.

george's eyes flutter and when he looks at you again, there's tenderness there that makes you want to cry. 'i love you,' he whispers back, starting to slowly pick up his rhythm. 'you have no idea how much, you are everything to me, my-' he groans when your walls tighten around him. 'fuck, so good- always so good to me, perfect for me, wanna be yours so much-'

you hiccup at this, moaning into his mouth when he starts thrusting harder. 'you are mine,' you remind him, voice laced with possessiveness you never usually show.

his hips falter and then he pulls out completely only to slam right back in, catching your shout with his mouth. 'just like you are mine,' he mutters, biting at your lower lip. 'so sweet, so pretty, all mine, my wife.'

it doesn't take you both long to reach your highs and when you do, it's both of you moaning each other's names, holding to each other for dear life. 'love you, love you,' he keeps repeating, staying inside you and not willing to pull out just yet.

'love you too,' you let out, spent and satisfied.

there's a certain glow around you and george can't look away even when he knows you get shy because of his staring. you look so beautiful, his brain kind of short circuits at the sight. 'sticky,' you mutter after few minutes of being plastered to each other.

george nods, gently pulling out. he gulps at the sight of his semen slipping out and groans loudly, when you stretch, completely oblivious to how seductive this simple gesture is. you say something about shower and breakfast, but his mind is filled with images of you, and bubbles, and jacuzzi, so he doesn't even let you finish before he's lifting you up, smiling at your surprised shout. 'george! what, where-'

'we are so not done,' he announces, carrying you to his goal. 'one more round in jacuzzi baby and then i'll bring you breakfast right to the tub, okay?'

you stare at him in shock, gasping at the way he purposefully grips underside of your thighs, close to a very sensitive part. 'you were not joking about the honeymoon part,' you realize as he carefully puts you down. there are rose petals in an otherwise empty jacuzzi and you try not to blush at this. 'rose petals are really over the top-'

'no,' he says, checking water temperature before signaling you to get in. 'i haven't even started spoiling you yet, just wait and see.'

george fears that sometimes you don't feel the full magnitude of his feelings. you don't understand what exactly he feels for you, how gone he is for you. and it makes him sad and angry, but then he realizes - he has all the time in the world to make you see, to make you understand how madly in love with you he is. and he's going to do exactly that.

a/n: my georgie, he will rise and he will be p1 and all will be good. trust!! hope you liked this one, let me know your thoughts please <3 - nini

writing list for f1 is here

“Maybe I should just surprise him. Be assertive, you know. Ask him on a date. Ask for what I want. I don’t really feel like waiting around, because he probably doesn’t have all that much time anyways. How long does it take to fly back to Monaco, you reckon?”

She’s looking at you, as if you’ve got his schedule memorised. As if you’d know the exact time difference, at any given moment. The assumption settles uneasily in your stomach.

When you just shrug, she sighs. “Okay, you’re right – maybe that’s a bit too much. But like, brainstorm with me here. What would he like to do? What could be like a fun date idea for a millionaire who’s got everything? I’d have picked your place of work, but now that he’s an Ambassador that’s probably not fun anymore.”

You purse your lips to hide the way in which they want to pull into a scowl instead. The question isn’t meant to be a trap, but it feels like one anyways. Shouldn’t it be just as difficult for you to answer this as it is for Rachel?

And yet, you can’t help the suggestions from rolling off your tongue. You want her to have a good time. You want George to have a good time. You want both of them to be happy. They’re your friends. Seeing them get together, making each other happy... It would be a good thing. “Probably something active, like, an experience. But not too taxing/risky becase of his racing. He likes learning new things. He’s into marine life, sure, but you could go to the Natural History Museum? Then dinner somewhere on the water? Maybe a cooking class.”

Your friend makes a face. She’s not a history buff, doesn’t particularly enjoy museums. But Rachel loves a good restaurant. “D’you think he’s an Italian kind of guy? Or like, high-end sushi or something. I can surely find out,” she mutters, no longer paying attention to the race as she starts scrolling on her phone.

It’s ironic, how once again you’ve seemingly gotten swept up in the whirlwind of shenanigans that Rachel gets up to whilst chasing her own dreams. This is how she’d introduced you to burrito bowls once upon a time, how she’d gotten you to move to Monaco, and how you’d ended up being the one collecting shitty postcards and practicing your penmanship for fun – even though it was Rachel who’d initially wanted to try calligraphy. Now it’s you who’s watching races, and finding yourself overly invested in how Mercedes and Williams are handling the new regulations. She'd broadened your horizons plenty of times before. Always to your benefit. Maybe this can be your payment.

George doesn’t win. Has a run of bad luck, ends up slotting into third place as he barely makes it onto the podium. It doesn’t surprise you when days later Rachel tells you with a pout that he’s declined her offer to go for commiseration drinks.

What does surprise you, is running into him at your offices after that. “I thought you’d be too busy licking your wounds to show your face around here,” you smile as he comes over to hug you, and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“It’s still a podium,” George insists, drawing away in mock offense, but his eyes sparkle in amusement. He hums, once. “So you watched, huh?”

Feeling caught out, you shrug, ignoring the way blood is rushing to your cheeks. “I mean, it feels like the thing a good friend does, yeah? I keep up with you, you keep up with me.”

There’s no reason for the smug expression on George’s face. “That’s right. I like keeping up with you. Much more interesting than the Kardashians. Sorry Lewis.”

A snort escapes your lips, before you’re pushing him along to the lunch room. “You’re such a bad gossip. Are you any good at keeping secrets at all?”

George’s quiet at that. When you throw him a sideways glance, he blinks once to get rid of the strange look in his eyes, then gives you a tentative smile as he changes the topic to your favourite fish.

The topic of Rachel, however, doesn’t get brought up at all that day, and you leave work with a strange pit in your stomach that only grows when you come back home to your best friend. The next time you happen to come across George, you’ll do better, you promise yourself.

It’s not a big deal. Or well, it doesn’t have to be one. As long as the next time, you’ll definitely make sure the conversation leads back to propping up your best friend. Like you’re supposed to do.

Rachel will never have to know the way in which you like to make these pockets of time stretch. Enjoy bringing out the smile on George’s face, to see wonder dancing across his features and a content sparkle in his eyes. It’s not yours to keep or create.

So next time. Next time it’ll be different. Except the next time truly happens to be an accident. George is with his niece and nephew, and what you presume to be a security guard, when he spots you meandering down the shopping aisles.

“Look who we have here,” he muses. “Seems a little unethical – the seafood specialist shopping in the seafood aisle.”

“It’s not for me,” you blurt, “these are for Ray,” holding up the packaged shrimp like some sort of peace offering. “I don’t actually eat much seafood. Don’t like the texture. Also – I know too much.”

George doesn’t hide his smile as you shudder for dramatic effect. “You should talk to Lando when you come to a race next. He’ll commiserate with you on that. These are my sister’s kids, by the way,” he says, then introduces you as if it’s obvious you’ll be seeing them in the future. Just like he assumes so easily you’ll be at a next race. Like your part in his life is permanent, even though it’s been nothing but an accident so far.  

You wonder if you’ve already missed the opportunity to plug Rachel beyond her love for shrimp. A small, dark crevice of your mind questions if that’s even really an accident, or if you’ve perhaps done that on purpose. Then again, dating is perhaps not really a topic you’d bring up around his niece and nephew. Or in a public place, for that matter.

“Maybe,” you allow in lieu of response, and try not to think too hard about the implication of George’s words, or your lack of words in return. “Nice to meet you two. What a great uncle you have, ensuring you both get to wear race winner caps out and about!”

“Next one’s for you, promise,” he says. Your eyes shoot up to meet his in surprise.

His nephew pulls on George’s shirt, tells him they need to still get snacks – that Uncle Georgie had promised them as much after all. But George’s eyes, his gentle smile are still stuck on you. Waiting for a reply you can’t seem to sound out, not even in your own head.

Eventually, you just scrunch your nose. Try to pretend you’re unaffected as you shake your head. “That’s alright. Save it for Rachel. She’d love that, you know?”

George’s smile falters a little. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Text her, will you?”

You don’t wait for his response. Instead, you throw a quick bye over your shoulder, then scurry towards the self-checkout. When you get home, Rachel squeals in delight at her latest message. There’s no need to guess who it’s from.

It’s tickets for his next race, an invitation for the both of you to join him in the Mercedes garage. The decision’s made before you even register the words coming out of your own mouth. “You should go, I’ll stay here. Maybe it’ll get you some one on one time,” you encourage Ray.

Instead, you end up watching at home with a furrow in your brows as George crosses the line in fourth – clearly frustrated throughout the entire weekend.

Rachel has dinner with him, though. And his physio. And his race engineer. And his press officer. She's slightly disappointed when she relays it back to you. You try to suppress the way in which your heart flips at the non-date of it all, then insist it’s probably George being a gentleman. That the timing probably was off, what with his disappointing race. It’s all true, yet the words still feel like lie after lie as they effortlessly tumble out of your mouth.

But then a week passes by, another race happens, and all of a sudden George has the next weekend off. Rachel’s texted him, has decided to ask him out herself. Except it’s you who gets a text instead.

Hey.

Hi.

Can I call you?

You can, I just don’t know if you should.

Why shouldn’t I? I’ve missed you.

When you don’t respond, he predictably tries to call you next.

Equally predictable, you pick up on the second ring.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says in lieu of greeting. “We’re friends. I call my friends all the time to check in on them. We've been over this.”

You hum in acknowledgment. He’s not wrong. Of course he isn’t. And he probably truly doesn’t mean anything else by it. But the thing is… You do. As much as you try and pretend that’s not the case, you know that your heart skips a beat when he says he misses you. When he takes time out of his day to talk to you. But there’s the lingering voice of Rachel in your head, telling you that she has finally found the right kind of man to get serious with. That she’d worship the ground he walks on. That she believes George belongs with her.

And you can tell it’s different this time. It’s not a silly crush to her. He’s a real person, not just a fantasy. A real person that she likes. He’s not yours to like. So you fold all your feelings back into a paper crane and let them take flight.

“Maybe. Do you have us all on rotation, then?” You end up joking in return. 

“Oh yeah. I’ve got a spreadsheet and everything.”

It’s hard not to fall into easy banter with him, and you figure noone needs to know how fond your smile is and who caused it. There isn’t anyone around to witness it anyways, you consider as your eyes scan the empty office that surrounds you. It is a Saturday afternoon after all. Hell, you shouldn’t be in the office either. But it’s your sanctuary, the one place you can gather your thoughts or escape from them – whatever mood strikes.

Taking a call from perhaps the reason you’re here in the first place is probably a sign for you to leave. Then again, this place has been haunted by George ever since he first came to visit. What is one more call going to do.

“Does it include question prompts? Like a little checklist to see how we are all doing, who might be in need of a follow-up soon?”

He tsks over the phone. “You know I don’t do anything half-heartedly.”

That hits a little closer than you’d like. “No,” you hum. “I suppose you don’t.”

Wanting to keep the silence from wrapping around the conversation and suffocating it before it’s even truly begun, you ask about your prompt. “What made you want to check in on me?”

George grins through the phone. “I always want to check in on you. But I do have an ulterior motive this time.”

You have to clear your throat, pretend that his casual words don’t affect you.  “Oh?”

“I want to buy a yacht,” he announces.

“You want to buy a yacht.”

Slowly repeating the words back to him doesn’t make them make more sense, unfortunately. When you tell George as much, asking what that has to do with you, it’s clear you’ve played perfectly into his hands.

“I’m so very glad you asked. You see, I want to buy a yacht so I can go for diving trips whenever I’ve got some time. But I also need it to be ecologically sound. The least harmful to marine life. So I thought, I need an expert. I need you.”

The words settle into your skin, like a dangerous lick of fire giving off its first warning. Not to touch, not to get close, not to stare at the blue core for too long, lest you might lose yourself in it. But just like a moth to a flame, you can’t help it. Can’t keep yourself from reaching out, touching, staring at blue eyes until they swallow you whole, knowing full well you will be the one who ends up getting burned.  “Alright. Tell me when and where, I guess. Let’s make an ethical millionaire out of you.”

You don’t tell Rachel. It’s not right, but you tell yourself it’s because you don’t want to make her sad. In fact, you should probably be annoyed with George. He’s ghosting your friend and spending his day shopping for a yacht, rather than taking Ray out for a coffee. You should’ve told him no.

It’s the ugly part of you, the side that’s always in the shadows, that wins out in the end. You know you’re pretending – can’t even convince yourself fully that this is fine. And yet you’re still here, standing in the harbor of Monaco, waving awkwardly as George pulls up in a car that looks wholly unsafe.

“What the hell is this?”

He steps out of what might as well double as a toy car. “A Fiat jolly. A joyride, if you will.”

You raise an eyebrow, swiftly stepping aside while he pulls himself up and out of the vehicle. It’s a weak attempt at maintaining some distance, and one that George ignores entirely as he leans in to kiss your cheek.

“Shall we?” He breezes past you, easy smile on his face like you’ve hung out like this a thousand times before. Like your stomach isn’t currently up in your throat, reminding you of how this moment shouldn’t belong to you.

But it’s too late to turn back now, and an ever growing part of you also just doesn’t want to turn back. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with accompanying him for this. He’d asked his friend, because he knew you’re an expert. And he needs an expert.

It’s a feeble argument – one that feels more like a technicality than the truth. Still. As long as nobody knows, there’s also no need to explain anything. To defend a friendship that shouldn’t exist, to avoid touches that shouldn’t linger.  

The wind sighs as you step ontothe deck of the first yacht of the day.  It’s not the first time you've been on one, but it is the first time you get to leisurely explore one. A hand brushes your waist when you wobble slightly on your feet, and then George is right there steadying you.

“Careful,” he mutters around a smile. For a second, you feel stuck in the moment. As if there’s a tiny pocket of the universe carved out just for the two of you, finally getting to exist in just each other’s orbit.

“Ahem, it’s – we have a shoes off policy on deck, if you could just,” one of the deckhands interrupts. George’s hand slides off your waist, as you fumble to unlace your sneakers as quickly as possible.

There’s another salesperson awaiting your arrival, handing the two of you a glass of champagne like there’s already something to celebrate. “We’re very happy to have you consider one of our newer models, and I can assure you that everything’s as sustainable as possible. We can run through the specs at the very end,” the man who introduces himself as Paul Enright smiles at George.

He just points at you instead. “Don’t look at me for that part, that’s going to be all her.”

Paul doesn’t bat an eye, not even when a treacherous blush takes over your cheeks, just nods in acknowledgment and motions for the two of you to follow him. It’s a nice yacht, you think. Not that there’s a lot of comparison you can do. For as much as you’re willing to humour George and delude yourself, you’re not actually much of a connoisseur.

Paul does most of the talking throughout the tour, occasionally volleying back and forth with George, who’s apparently got opinions about the amount of beds and baths. “I should be able to have a nice bath on board, for after,” he justifies. Paul seems delighted by this, and eagerly points out the options for built-in outdoor showers as well as bathtubs in the primary ensuite. “We’ve previously fitted one of your colleagues’ yachts with a custom made lion mosaic,” he shares.

“You’re a Verstappen fan?” George asks casually, Paul realising his faux-pas only as he’s mid-nod.

“I mean, I am a Silver Arrows fan, too. But four championships in a row is – well. It’s impressive.”

George nods politely, corner of his mouth curving upwards. “Hopefully the Mercedes car is competitive enough to keep it at four.”

It effectively kills the conversation. And while you try to get things back on track by asking about the heat recovery systems, hull optimisation, and rotor blades – Paul is a little less delighted to answer your questions. Nonetheless, he remains eager to please and has clearly picked up on George’s earlier directive. So when you sit back down on the main deck, it’s you he turns to as he hands over a folder of specs and certifications.

Except he’s come to the wrong conclusion.

“If I may,” Paul adds before leaving the two of you to talk on deck. “It’s great to see such a trusting partnership.”

Your eyebrow shoot up as you sneak a glance to George, who’s just nodding along blithely. His shirt sleeve billows in the wind, caressing your arm as it goes. A reminder of how close you’re standing. You’re not entirely sure if the ensuing goosebumps are because it’s too close, or not close enough.

The salesman’s statement is incredibly presumptuous, and you can’t quite tell whether it’s envy or admiration you detect in his voice through the buzzing in your head. Why isn’t George correcting him?

“However, should you need anything else, you have my number.”

Envy it is, with a touch of smarminess, then. Even though there’s really nothing to be envious of. There is no partnership. George doesn’t like you like that. You don’t like him that either. And if either of you did, well. You shouldn’t.

A single chuckle escapes George the moment Paul’s out of earshot. As he shifts, you pretend not to notice how his shirt finally retreats from touching your skin. “Ha. I wasn’t sure if he was going to either add a grand onto this model or give us a discount.”

You roll your eyes and leaf through the folder of documents. “Come on. Everyone likes you, George.”

He hums, looks at you askance before he pulls at the folder. “Everyone?”

“I’m pretty sure even that guy’s a little bit in love with you,” you joke, sidestepping his question.

“He just told you to call him, I’m pretty sure.” George retorts, and you snort at his obliviousness. “I’m pretty sure out of the two of us, it’s you who has his number – not me.”

He purses his lips, as if he’s quietly processing whether he’s surprised or annoyed at the revelation that he was wrong. “Hm. Well. Still,” he insists. “I could show you a Twitter thread right now that tells you very clearly not everybody likes me. Besides, I don’t care about everyone. I only care about specific people.” The way he’s staring at you as he says it sends a little forbidden thrill up your spine.

It’d be so easy to fall into his gravity. Or maybe you’re already stuck in his orbit, on the verge of crashing right through the atmosphere and burning as you go. Except there’s someone else that’s anchoring you already, pulling you back from destroying the prettiest constellation you’ve ever built. A friendship for life, someone you’d consider a sister first, a friend second. So maybe all you’re ever meant to be is to be caught in between. Aligned, but hidden and never quite meeting, like a syzygy in the sky.

“So. What do you think? Could she be yours?” Paul interrupts. Your breath hitches, and you look away. Pretend there’s no tension hanging in the air as you let the moment fade. Or try to, anyways.

It’s hard, when George’s shoulder brushes yours, as he stands up and reaches for your shoes. He briefly shoots the man a conspiratorial smile that turns slightly fond when his eyes find yours. They remind you so much of the sky, and just like that you’re helplessly falling all over again.

“You understand, Paul, that this isn’t a rash decision. But between the two of us, I’d really like for her to be.”

Paul smiles. "You're a good man. I'm sure you'll make the right choice."

The words have you crash-landing right back into reality. Because what if the right decision might not be in the cards? Guilt follows you all the way home.

a/n: girly pop is having a realisation. she can't wash away a crush that's already rooted into your bloodstream like a pesky little wildflower - even if it's inappropriate because he's meant to be your friend's next boyfriend... except what if he wasn't :) :)

please don't hesitate to send me your thoughts, any comment, reblog, like is appreciated so so much by me <3 if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know either via ask or here in the comments below x

george - kimi

GR63 “george, georgie, love, darling”

he loves you loudly and proudly. even though he’d never admit to it out loud, he’s counting down the days until he can wear a wedding band and forever solidify his love for you. he’s romantic without even trying. he often sends fresh flowers to your apartment and makes sure dinner dates are frequent and drenched in candlelight and red wine.

KA12 “kimi, baby, amour”

loving kimi is so easy and so fun. the two of you exude puppy dog energy and match each others’ freak in the best way possible. in the beginning of the relationship, he was nervous and shy, but as your relationship deepened and his walls lowered, you fell even more in love with that playful and joyous boy. you’re happiest when he’s around.

alex - pierre

AA23 “alexander, alex, albono, babe”

in public and in the paddock, alex puts on a cool guy front. the reality is that he’s so sweet and affectionate in private. the second the door closes and seals the two of you off from the world, he’s dragging you to sit in his lap and nestling his face in your neck. his trademark no-filter humor becomes his own custom love language. compliments, observations, jokes, and inappropriate comments flow from his lips with no hindrance. when he’s around you, he feels like he can finally breathe deeply.

PG10 “pierre, amour”

hands down, pierre’s love language is physical touch. he needs to be touching you at all times: holding your hand walking into the paddock, gripping your waist when posing for photos on red carpets, dragging your legs over his lap on the plane…

lewis - esteban

LH44 “lewis, lew, lulu”

he is gentle, careful, and surprisingly thoughtful. if you mention something you’ve been wanting to purchase, it’ll be on your bed a week later because he listens. you’ve come to be able to read his body language and hold a silent conversation through eye contact. quality time is one of the biggest priorities in your relationship. all free weekends are spent either exploring a new city or in colorado, getting a glimpse of a “normal” life.

EO31 “esteban, estie, amour”

esteban is a literal ball of sunshine through and through. he can’t resist making silly faces in photos and you don’t let him hear the end of it. “esteban! i want one normal photo of you!” he’s very observant and analytical. the two of you often stay up too late dissecting some small corner of the mcu. one of your favorite memories with him was when you two spent an afternoon people watching and chatting in a cafe in bordeaux.

-

'you think this button is broken?’ you ask instead, turning back. you push at 'call’ button again but no sound comes out. 'we can’t actually be stuck here with no connection to the outside world, right?’

'it happens quite often. but no, this button works, we just need to wait a little. maybe these guys are out somewhere.’

'out where?’ you ask, turning back to him. smell of chips - wait, are they the healthy ones? why does it smell like broccoli? - starts filling up the cabin and you try to concentrate on it instead of thinking about being stuck here forever. 'should i just keep on pressing that button?’

your voice gets caught in your throat because the guy looks at you with… you don’t know what. his gaze is piercing and it’s like he’s looking right at you, within you, in your soul. it’s unsettling, especially when it comes from someone that handsome. your brain unnecessarily reminds you that right now you’re standing in front of a really handsome guy in old washed out t-shirt and pj pants, while he’s at least dressed in jeans and sweater.

'i’m george,’ he says suddenly, breaking your thinking spiral. 'i'm sort of a building manager here voluntarily. and as i know every single person here, i can only assume you're the new person renting 63 apartment on the sixth floor, correct?’

his green eyes are shining too bright that for a second you forget about the whole stuck in the elevator thing. you nod, unsure what to think of someone that handsome who also voluntarily became a buiding manager and who eats healthy versions of chips that smell like broccoli. that's a lot to unpack here. he keeps on calmly sitting on the floor and at your raised eyebrow he simply shrugs: 'had a leg day at the gym yesterday. and trust me, we're not here for good, but we are here for some time so might as well sit. chips?'

there are a lot of things that you can say or do, but your mind chooses to grab offered snack and silently move to where heэs sitting. george seems to approve, as he smiles a little and leans with his back on the opposite wall so he can still look at you. his hand reaches out and he keeps on pressing the 'call' button, so you won't have to. this litte gesture, for some reason, warms your heart.

'god these are awful!' you blurt out, staring at the bag of chips with horror. 'what even-'

'broccoli,' george supplies helpfully, smiling at your disgusted expression. 'snacks should be healthy too, you know.'

'but also delicious, no?' you counter, cringing at the horrid taste in your mouth. it’s salty taste helps you stay here in the moment instead of disappearing in the anxiety, but my god, these chips are awful.

george smiles and goes on a long rant about the healthy snacks and how important they are prior to chocolate. it takes you five seconds to realize that he is doing this on purpose. george is distracting you so you won’t panick and this gesture is incredibly sweet for a random stranger. you’re not sure how much time passes. you don’t notice how your spine is not rigid anymore, but george does. he notices how you slowly relax, hold his gaze more and eat chips more actively even when they are horrible. he notices how corners of your eyes crinkle when you smile and how cute you look with confusion written all over your face. in truth, he has no idea what he is even saying, but he can’t stop, can’t let you remember even for a second that this stupid elevator is not working. his thumb is numb from how strongly he pushes on that 'call’ button but he ignores it in favor of staring in your eyes, catching every emotion that sparkles in them. you are cute and you don’t even realize it and that makes you even cuter.

'hello? is someone there?’ when static voice cuts through, both of you jump a little. 'apologies for this horrible inconvinience, elevator will start working in few minutes. are you alright?’

george takes a look at your surprised face and half-finished bag of chips. 'yeah, we are all good.’

pang of regret slashes through him when you hastily stand up and cheer, when cabin finally starts descending. shit, he didn’t even manage to learn your name! when elevator door opens, george reaches out for your hand and is pleasantly surprised when you take it with a smile, rushing out with the cutest little 'whoop!’ he saw in his life.

he wants to say something along the lines of 'welcome, all your neighbors are nice' but instead what comes out of his mouth is: 'you owe me.’ at your confused expression, he points at his snack. 'chips.’

'oh. oh!’ you exclaim, getting flustered. 'of course, i will-’

'-and your name.’ he adds, making you freeze. he watches understanding dawn on you and smiles. 'and your favorite drink. so i would know what to buy for you.’

it’s bold. not exactly his style, but you're too cute, too pretty, too nice for him not to try. he thinks he overdid it but then you blush (so prettily), then smile (so, so prettily) and he knows he didn’t mess up. when you step closer and introduce yourself, george knows he not only didn’t mess up, but also won something out of this whole situation. (and he doesn’t know it yet, but this big win? it’s your heart. it really is).

a/n: i'm sorryyyyyy i know it's soooo cliche but i had to, okay? i love georgie :') hope you liked it, let me know! - nini

my other formula 1 writings are here