That font is called Cherish! Isn’t that so cute :)
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ABOUT ME ♥︎ My name is Cherish, but please just call me Cher! I’m a writer, and currently studying to be a graphic designer! My timezone is PST, and I tend to post more frequently on weekends. My favorite F1 drivers are Oscar and Lando :)
This page is dedicated to Formula One! Motorsports are my biggest interest in life, and I’ve been a fan since I was a kid. I’ve attended a few races and love to yap about my hyper-fixations. I have diagnosed ADHD, which sometimes makes writing difficult, but I do my best.
In terms of BOUNDARIES ♥︎, there are a few things I’d like to go over!
I do not write NSFW! Totally okay if you shoot me a request with suggestive theming, but straight up NSFW is not my forte :) I’d happily suggest other writers if you’re looking for that sort of thing!
I don’t like to write about darkfic topics, such as uncomfortable age gaps, romantic family dynamics, or S/A of any sort.
Please do not be weird or creepy to me. I obviously don’t mind the occasional platonic ILY, but I’d appreciate if you refrain from making weird comments about me!
This is a page for anyone and everyone. I do not post NSFW, therefore I don’t mind people under 18 reading my content. Please keep my comments PG13 and refrain from posting hate towards anyone, including the drivers themselves.
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❝Who do you write for?!❞ What a good question!
2025 grid-
Max Verstappen
Yuki Tsunoda
Oscar Piastri
Lando Norris
Lewis Hamilton
Charles Leclerc
Carlos Sainz
Alex Albon
George Russell
Kimi Antonelli
Gabriel Bortoleto
Nico Hülkenberg
Isack Hadjar
Liam Lawson
Franco Colapinto
Pierre Gasly
Oliver Bearman
Esteban Ocon
Fernando Alonso
Lance Stroll
Jack Doohan
Retired drivers-
Daniel Ricciardo
Nico Rosberg
Kimi Räikkönen
Sebastian Vettel
Mark Webber
Jenson Button
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❝What kind of things do you write?❞ Another great question, yay!
YES! ☆
Social Media AUS (SMAU)
Text fics
Oneshots with multiple drivers
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Fluff
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Suggestive content
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NSFW
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SUMMARY ☆ George finds himself falling for you, his band's new manager! Unfortunately, he and his big mouth royally screws up.
WARNINGS ☆ George is kind of an asshole, hurt w/ comfort, slow burn?
WORD COUNT ☆ 7.9K
A/N ☆ This writing is pure fiction and does not reflect on the true actions, beliefs, or behaviors of the drivers! Some personalities are exaggerated for the sake of the plot. P.S. Experience may be amplified by listening to music! For George, I suggest songs from The Killers, The Smiths, and Oasis. Also, feel free to go vote for whose chapter I release next!
Reblogs, comments, and all support is super appreciated!
DIRECTORY | MASTERLIST | FAST LANE
“So, uh, what kind of experience do you have?” You’re seated at a plastic, folded table. Across from you are three men, all of varying descriptions. The one in the middle has a curly mop of hair, and he seems to be a little sheepish, like he has no idea what he’s doing here. A stack of note cards in his hand, and a pencil lies lopsided beside him. He’s been scribbling things down after every question as if it were a proper interview.
The other two are on each side of him, occasionally glancing at each other. Their gaze tells you they might have lunged at one another if the man in the middle weren’t present. “None,” you reply casually, shifting in your seat to get more comfortable. The taller fellow reacts visibly, his eyes wide and his hands over his heart– he looked to be quite the drama queen.
“None?!” He repeats incredulously. Your lips are drawn straight to reflect your unimpression of his reaction.
“That is what I said, yes.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but the young gentleman in the middle beats him to it, “And… Why are you interested in…”
“Administering.” The one who had been entirely silent so far finally spoke, assisting your interviewer in pronouncing one of the words on the card.
“Really? You couldn’t have just said managing?”
“Hey, this is supposed to be professional,” The diva refutes.
“I’m reading off of note cards-”
“I’m interested because I’ve always been a fan of rock music, and I think I have the organization skills to keep things well-managed,” You replied, just as you rehearsed many times before. It was a complete lie; you were pulling things out of your ass, but they didn’t need to know that. They just needed to know you were capable. This was your last hope.
He shuffles to the next note card, his eyes scanning the text. He squints and brings it closer to his eyes. Suddenly, he slams the thick stack down on the table, scattering everything. You flinch and sit up straight– The other two eye him suspiciously. “Great! You’re hired!”
“Wait, you didn’t even finish-” The Brit is, once more, cut off.
“You’re a perfect fit. I don’t need to hear more. When can you start?”
“Excuse me, I’m the one in charge of this band. I am the lead-”
“I can start today if you want.”
He stands up, holding his hand out with a huge grin. Your eyes shift from his face to his hand, and with reluctance, you stand to shake his hand, smiling. “Welcome to FAST LANE, Y/N!”
You’re flipping through papers on a clipboard while you walk into the recording studio. It’s primarily full of tour dates and notes from record labels– the basics. “Alright, boys, today we need to–”
“Your shoes are a disgrace!” George shouts towards Max. The latter looks down at his feet, confusion written across his face. “You’re totally sabotaging the whole vibe of the band.” He says it so adamantly, like it’s an undeniable fact. You sigh, leaning against the coffee counter. Oscar shuffles beside you, looking unsettled.
“I wear these every day,” Max counters, crossing his arms over his chest. You can practically see the steam coming from George’s ears by now.
“How long has this been going on for?” You whisper to Oscar. He perks up, nearly dropping his cup of coffee as if he wasn’t expecting you to interact with him. You can’t help but smile at this.
“Uh, just…” He pulled his sweatshirt sleeve up to peek at his watch. Oscar swallows thickly, looking shamefaced. “An hour…”
“An hour?” You repeat slightly louder. When Oscar nods, you sigh loudly and slam your clipboard on the counter. George and Max jump and turn to you, faces frozen in anger and shock. “Alright! Both of you, break it up.” You step up onto the stage. “George, quit tormenting him. Max-” You look down at his shoes and you lose your words all of a sudden. “Max, we’ll… Buy you new shoes for the next show-”
“See, they’re awful-”
“Shut it!” You snap, and George listens. Mostly because he’s just utterly taken aback by your sudden burst of confidence. “You two are always fighting like children, and I’m sick of hearing it. Especially from you,” You point an accusatory finger at George. He throws his hands up to look innocent, making you suspiciously squint your eyes. “Quit being so dramatic! You’ll live.”
When you stormed off to grab your things from the counter, you could just barely hear George whispering to Alex, the band’s technician, “Who do they think they are bossing me around?”
“Who do you think you are bossing around the manager you hired?” You fired back casually. You didn’t even turn to face him; you grabbed your clipboard and flipped back to your itinerary for the day. George clenched his jaw, but kept his silence. Good news for you: You’ve gone up the charts in their mental rankings! It’s rare for someone to get their frontman to shut up. “Anyway,” you try to brush past the serious vibe. This was supposed to be fun. “Today, you all need to run through your set list again, this time with Alex.” You gave a nod of acknowledgement to your technician. “Max, I need you to turn your amp up a bit more, and Oscar, I’d like yours to go down. We don’t want you overpowering the lead guitar.”
“Okay,” The younger member nodded, seeming slightly disappointed with this revelation. We can’t all be in the limelight.
“Lando, try to remember to keep your solos within the time given to you…” You scan the rest of the page and nod. “That should be it.”
“Nothing for me?” George asks, his arms crossed. Everyone else has already scampered off to set up the equipment, but he seems more occupied with targeting you. You look up towards the tall Brit, and then back to the page.
“Guess not,” You shrug.
“So… I’m perfect then? I must be if you have absolutely nothing to say. Are you trying to sabotage me?” Holy air ball.
“Mate, I didn’t get anything either,” Charles pointed out as he set up the stand for his keyboard. Max chuckled under his breath, something that went unnoticed by the band’s leader, but not by you. If you were being honest, you usually sided with him anyway.
“Yeah. Doesn’t mean you’re perfect, just means there’s nothing too obvious to point out.”
“Thank God,” Lando chimes in as he raises the seat for his kit. “George, no offense, man, but it was annoying when you’d point out every. little. detail.” He groans to emphasize the point further. “Like… That one time! We didn’t all need to know Oscar was a millisecond from his entrance. Not that you can hear the guy, anyway, because you’re always drowning him out.”
Ouch?
“So you guys are just fine with making mistakes?!” Everyone stares at him silently, making discreet eye contact like they were challenging each other to step up and say what was on everyone’s mind.
“Yes,” you answered for them. “Now get to work.”
“Wait-”
“Get to work.” You had the expression of a mother dealing with a back-talking child. It quieted him down real fast, at least.
Oftentimes, the boys thought they were being slick. They’d hang out in the studio under the guise of personal rehearsals— they’d even tell you that it wasn’t necessary you attend because it was just tweaking song lyrics and chords. In reality, they’d sit around a large table with drinks in hand and discuss things that weren’t music-related. Some include their romantic lives, celebrity gossip (from the lips of George and George only), and commentary on sports.
They operated quietly, keeping these secret meetups on the ‘DL’. They had to swear never to tell you because you’d be a raging—uh, let’s go with ‘lunatic’— if you found out. They planned everything out to go behind your back, and even if they felt guilty—
Yeah, anyway, you knew about it.
You discovered it when you pulled up to the studio to grab the laptop you left behind. You could practically hear their loud banter from a mile away. After listening for a few minutes, you decided it wasn’t anything you wanted to be a part of, so you left them to it. It’s not like they needed the extra rehearsal. Your schedule was doing them just fine. What you didn’t understand is why they didn’t just hang out at each other’s houses. It’s not like you’d want to be invited anyway. Their conversations were less than pleasant, especially with George and Max in the same room.
Today was one of those days, though. They told you ever-so inconspicuously that they would be having another private rehearsal session and that you weren’t required to come. And you, ever-so innocently, pretended like you were clueless and gave them the thumbs up to continue. Let them have their fun… Sure.
But you actually needed to do business at the studio today. Plus, they said you weren’t required to come. That didn’t mean you weren’t allowed. With your laptop and clipboard tucked under your arm, you entered with the intent of heading straight to your office. They didn’t even need to know you were there, and you didn’t need to say hello or anything. You just wanted to make a beeline for your own private room.
But when you passed by the door to the studio, which was just slightly cracked open, you heard your name drift out in casual conversation. So, even though you weren’t there to snoop… You did. You paused, ear pressed to the surface of the door.
“Y/N’s to blame for that.” Charles. You’d recognize that accent anywhere.
“For what? The show going smoothly?” George. The… More annoying accent. His voice made you clench your teeth with indescribable anger.
“Yeah. They work efficiently. It’s impressive.”
Your pride is glowing at the compliment. Maybe being a band manager for a bunch of dysfunctional adult men wasn’t the dream job, but you really had adjusted well. Plus, they were all unique and interesting in their own right. Getting to know them all proved to be a fun side gig.
But you were quickly shot through the heart mercilessly. “Please. It’s not that hard of a job. I used to do it just fine.”
“Woah, woah, woah,” Lando interjects with a laugh from Max. “Let’s not get things twisted here. Y/N’s a way better manager than you ever were.”
“Someone’s just feeling petty.” Max cracked open another can of some carbonated drink and added, “Did they hurt your feelings?” in a degrading tone. Thanks Max.
“No, I’m just annoyed at being micromanaged.”
“You’re annoyed at being micromanaged by someone else,” Oscar points out kindly. Even in tense situations like this, he remains so polite. It often surprised you how messy and disorganized the sweet kid was. “You micromanage us all the time.”
“They’re not even that great, guys. You’re just blinded by a pretty girl joining our group.”
Oh that pissed you off. You took a deep breath and turned on your heel, choosing to leave after that. If you heard much more, you might have barged in there to give him a piece of your mind. It didn’t matter if you had work to do. It could wait. For now, you have a renewed sense of revenge.
You were gonna prove that idiot of a frontman wrong and be the best damn manager around.
You proved to be an invaluable member of the group. Just in the last week, you managed to book more gigs for them and smooth out more issues within the band than George could ever dream of. Sure, he laughed in your face about your tactics, but in the quiet of his lonely home, he’d have to admit you were doing pretty well. Everything you suggested always sounded absurd, and he rarely took you seriously, but ultimately, you showed him up.
For example, your therapy session idea. It had been a rough week for every member of the band, so you offered your personal consolation through short one-on-one sessions. It wasn’t anything particularly grand, but in George’s mind, it most certainly was ridiculous. You’d first find him dead before you saw him sitting in a room, pretending to be your client while you pretended to be his therapist.
And yet here we are.
“Tell me, George,” You click your pen and push your glasses up your nose. Whether they’re fake or not, they amplified the therapist's look. “What makes you so bitter towards your bandmate, Max?” You peer at him over the lenses, and he scoffs. You take note of this when you scribble something down on a paper attached to your signature clipboard.
In reality, you were just making silly doodles. None of this was actually necessary; it was only meant to be a way for the group to simmer down.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am,” You meet him with that typical Cheshire grin of yours. He sighs and sinks back into the cushiony chair, his hands gripping the edges of the armrests.
“He’s just annoying.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well… He’s always purposely pushing my buttons, and he acts like I’m the only one picking fights with him, but he’s always trying to rile me up, too.” You hum as you continue doodling on your page.
“Interesting. Go on.”
“The rest of the band just agrees with him, too! It’s like, come on guys, I can’t always be in the wrong-”
“I beg to differ. Proceed.”
He shot you a glare, but this time it felt different. When he saw your playful grin, his spite faded into something else; something new—something soft. It was hard to notice, but you did. How could you not when he was looking at you like you were holding the universe in your hands?
It was a weird feeling. You didn’t like it.
You were thankful when he broke the awkward silence, standing up and stretching out his lanky arms and legs. “That’s it,” He said firmly, shaking his head. “Great session. I’ll send in…”
“Lando,” You finished for him, and he gave a curt nod. As he left, you were abandoned with only one remaining thought. You spoke it aloud to yourself. It was a faint whisper beneath your breath, like a secret shared amongst close colleagues. “What the hell was that?”
☆!
While George behaved in his typical party pooper manner, the rest of the group seemed to love your therapy session idea. Now, they didn’t exactly take it seriously, but it was a way to bond with your bandmates nonetheless. It was finally time for everyone to start acknowledging that you were just as important as the rest of them, and that your lack of musical capabilities wouldn’t be the thing to change that.
“Alright, Lan,” You greeted the drummer by gesturing to the seat in front of you. Instead of the sofa chair, he opted for your personal rolling office chair. He sat in it backwards, twirling his drumsticks around his fingers. It was somewhat of a nervous tic. The gestures made you smile, nonetheless. “What do you have repressed in there?”
“Ugh, you’re not gonna believe it.” He put forward a faux, overly dramatic tone as he leaned back, nearly tilting the chair over entirely. “Every night I wake up in a cold sweat after having the same nightmare over and over again… It’s chilling, it’s terrifying, it’s-”
“Out with it.”
“Remember when we were playing at a wedding and I fell right into the cake?” He’s smiling, and it’s only slightly shameful.
“How could I forget?”
“Hey, don’t make fun of my trauma! That moment is deeply rooted in my soul, I can’t ever escape…” He sighs, burying his face in his hands.
“Sure you can’t. I’m diagnosing you with a case of embarrassment.”
He peeks through the slits of his fingers and then drops his palms, wiping them on his jeans. “Alright, then I’m diagnosing you with a serious case of chronic sarcasm.” You roll your eyes, but before you can refute, you notice he’s giving you a look. That look.
“What?”
“Are you coming on tour with us?” He asks, his tone suddenly serious. He almost looks like a lost puppy. You hum and shrug. This was meant to be a short, summer job, just until you found a new way to support yourself. But… You were starting to really love it. “Seriously, you make things a lot better. I mean… I don’t think I’ve heard Oscar talk as much as he does now since— well… ever!”
“I’ll think about it, Lan.”
“Okay… But seriously, think about sticking around!” He waves to you on his way out. You smile when he’s gone, somewhat proud of his complimentary praise. You’re in an admittedly good mood for the rest of your mini sessions.
“Charles!” You’re sitting in your office when you hear George shout from the studio. You peek at the clock, one eyebrow quirked with your findings.
“George, it’s 12 in the morning- Why are you still here?” You poke your head out, calling back to him. You don’t get a response for a minute. You wonder if he’s asking the same question, but you have an answer. You had just finished meeting with some agency groups, but they lived halfway across the world, so the timing was bound to be screwy no matter when you scheduled it. You opted to be the one to stay up late, even if your selfish internal voice suggested otherwise.
“Charles!” He calls again as if he’s completely ignoring you— You don’t doubt that he is.
“Charles isn’t here. It’s 12 in the morning,” You reiterate, which draws out a deep sigh from the guitarist. “What do you need?”
“Nothing.”
“No, no. Just tell me. I can relay it to him tomorrow morning.” You and Charles are always the first to the studio for the day. It used to be that mornings were filled with awkward silence and the occasional attempt at small talk, but now it’s actually fairly lively. “Maybe I can help anyway.”
“As if,” He scoffs. You take that as an invitation to enter the studio. He’s sitting at the center table with a notebook and pen, staring at the blank page as if it personally offended him. Knowing George, it probably did. “I’m just trying to write some lyrics, but I can’t get the flow right.”
“Oh, and you think I couldn’t help with that?” His gaze slowly travels up to you with a deadpan expression. You chew at your cheek thoughtfully, brows knitted together. “Yeah, don’t answer that.” You’d hate to be wrong. “Can I see your ideas?”
You seat yourself beside him. You’re close enough that you can sense his arm hairs standing on edge like he’s suddenly become hyper aware of your presence. George hands you the notebook, and you flip back a few pages to see his scratched-out ideas. You can barely make out the words under layers of scribbled ink.
He abruptly stands up and walks to the mini fridge, digging around until he comes back with two cans. You accept when he offers you one, and mindlessly crack it open without even glancing at the label. You’re too focused on the lyrics you’re reading. You take note of where he sits. Close, but further away than he was before.
“These don’t make any sense,” You state firmly, tilting your head as if looking at it from a different angle will help.
“It’s rock music,” George states. “It’s not supposed to make sense.”
“What? That’s awful. All songs should have meaning.”
“Just because it doesn’t make sense doesn’t mean it doesn’t have meaning.” You take a sip of your drink and nearly choke on the bitter taste. He grins at your reaction. “I thought you said in your interview that you liked rock music?”
You freeze, hand on your chest like you were just hitting it with your fist to help the choking subside. Damn. Almost forgot about that. “Uh, well… You know. I usually only listen to rock with lyrics that are… Coherent. You know?”
“Uh-huh. So you don’t like any of the greats. Pearl Jam? Nirvana? Pink Floyd?”
“I never said I didn’t like them. Hey- What the actual hell is this anyway?” You gesture to the drink, and George laughs. It’s casual. He’s leaning against the back of the sofa, sitting sideways with one leg tucked under himself to face you. From what you can tell, he was already a bit tipsy when you walked in. Nothing beats getting drunk when you’re alone at 12 am. Hey, at least he has a drinking buddy now.
“I don’t know, I think it’s Max’s.”
“What!? George,” You groan. “He’s gonna be pissed when he sees I’ve taken one of his drinks.”
“At least it wasn’t his RedBull. Then you’d really be screwed.”
“Don’t even joke about that.” A shiver runs down your spine at the thought. You pick the notebook back up and flip a few more pages back. George is eyeing you cautiously— Almost nervously.
You hum one of the band’s latest tunes under your breath as you skim over the words. No matter how much you read from the journal, your mind keeps returning to one draft in particular. It’s a romantic song— Or, it’s written to be one, but it’s missing something.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice somewhat slurred. You turn to him, and then back to the page.
“It just lacks… Feeling. You’ve got all the lyrics, but it doesn’t seem genuine.” Despite your display of distaste for the drink, you chug a few large gulps of whatever alcohol George offered you. The taste settles in your stomach like a pit of negativity. You bite your lip to refrain from hurling. But it would be a waste just to toss it.
“I can see that,” He nods in agreement. This isn’t something you’ve encountered often. George is typically scolding you nonstop, or he’s shooting snarky comments your way. Constructive criticism usually ends in him insisting he’s flawless and can do no wrong.
You like drunk George. He’s a lot sweeter. It softens your heart.
“I should probably leave the romance to Charles. He’s a lot more…”
“Whimsical?”
“Yeah. Whimsical.” He smiles. George likes you finishing his thoughts. Which is weird, because he’s never thought that before.
He’s thinking a lot of new things right now, like how pretty you look in the low light of the recording studio, and how soft your voice is when you’re not competing with five other people to be the loudest one in the room, and how lovely your eyes are when they’re not shooting dagger-filled glares his way. Are those hearts in his eyes, or is it just the light reflecting off his irises? Either way, he’s entranced by you all of a sudden.
“Did you know that Lando sometimes reads fanfiction of himself?” He blurts it out like he didn’t mean to say it. George covers his mouth right after, hiccuping to top it all off. You’re frozen in shock, but it melts away into warm laughter that has him easing up.
“I can see that, actually.”
“I don’t think he’d like me telling you that,” George admitted.
“It’s alright, I can keep a secret.”
“Good,” He looked stressed, and then… “Also, Charles is afraid of the dark. Fuck, sorry-”
“Do you not know how to keep your mouth shut or something?” You tilt your head, laughing again. “Maybe you should cool it on the spilling of secrets.”
“It’s just really hard keeping it all to myself! I feel like everyone needs to know.”
“Well, for future reference, they don’t. I think they can all be glad I’m the only one you’ve told.” He goes completely silent, and you raise a brow. “I’m the only one you told, right?” His silence tells you all you need to know. “George!”
“I can’t help it,” He cries out. “When I get drunk, I tend to share more than I should.”
“Is this why you and Max are always fighting?”
He whistles and looks away. “Nice weather we’re having.”
“George Russell.” Unfortunately, you didn’t know his middle name. You’d have to ask around for future purposes.
“Alright, yes! I may have shared one too many of his secrets.”
“I’d hate you too,” You joke. He should have taken it like an insult with that typical George Russell reaction: hand on the heart and a look of total offense, but instead, he laughed. He laughed, and it sounded like all of your worries floating out the window. It was a sound that encouraged you to make him laugh more, which wasn’t a goal you often set out for.
“I can balance out the damage,” He insists, and you wait patiently for a further explanation. You’ve finally finished your rather volatile drink and tossed it into the nearby trash can— Clink! It hits the rim and falls out, landing unceremoniously on the ground. You’re too lazy to stand, so you just groan in distressed defeat. Oh, the agony! “Wanna hear another secret?”
“No way,” You tilt your head to look at him. He appreciates your soft, sleepy eyes that gaze upon him so sweetly. “Haven’t you shared enough?”
“It’s my own this time.”
You consider it, and then shrug. “Up to you.”
“I’m terrified of goats.” It takes him only half a beat to answer, and the response has you grinning like crazy. “Don’t laugh, this is a moment of vulnerability.”
“I’m just trying to figure out why?” You chew at your bottom lip, tongue pressed to your cheek— anything to hold back your giggles.
“They have square pupils.” You blink, moving your hand in a circular gesture to suggest that he continue. “Is that not reason enough?!”
“Relax! No goats then…” You sigh, shaking your head. “Great, there goes all my plans for future shows!”
“Don’t even joke about that. I’d seriously run off stage.” You both laugh, and the room falls into silence again. But it’s not awkward or tense; it’s like the silence between lifelong friends; you’ve already shared so much, and it’s hard to think of more. But he does. “I have one more.”
“I’m surprised you’re able to keep your own secrets.”
He takes a large swig of his drink and winces right afterwards. George can already tell this night is gonna be a major headache in the morning. But for you, it’s worth it. “This might ruin me.”
“Share with the class— Don’t be shy,” You playfully elbow him.
“Alright…” He sighs, taking another sip to work up the courage. “A year ago, I tried to launch my own candle line and it failed miserably.” He stares at you expectantly.
You blink.
“Sorry?”
“Candles. Artisan bullshit with ridiculous undertones and fancy packaging.” You lock eyes, and he groans. “All based around me.”
“You did not. I don’t believe it,” But you’re smiling and laughing like you do.
“Dead serious, Y/N. It was awful— I’m not surprised it didn’t get anywhere. I had everything planned out. The colors, the labels, the names-”
“Name one.” You say it like a challenge.
“…” His silence speaks loudly. “Guitar strings and sweat.”
“You’re fucking lying.”
“I wish I were.”
“You tried to sell a candle that smelled like rusted steel and body odor?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder it flopped.” You snorted, covering your mouth just as the sound left you. George felt proud in the moment, just because he liked seeing your genuine, raw laughter. “You smell like fancy shampoo and flowers. Why not go for that?”
“That would totally ruin my punk rock persona.” George leaned in just slightly. You could smell the alcohol on your breath, and the tiny sliver of you that was sober knew you probably weren’t any better off. “What about you, Y/N? Got any secrets to share?”
You hum. If you were sober, you’d say no, but you’re not, so instead you say, “I only applied for this job because I was trying to prove my family wrong.” You sigh as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “They own a huge business and want me to manage it someday, but I don’t. They all kept insisting it was my last hope, so… I proved them wrong by finding my own job.” There it was—your moment of weakness.
Before he can even reply, you stand up straight and dust yourself off. “I should probably head home— You should too. It’s late, and there’s early practice tomorrow.” Early meant 10 AM, but you liked to get your beauty sleep!
“I can walk you to your apartment,” He declares as he stands up. You want to say no, but it’s pitch black outside, and having George there offers a sense of comfort, so you allow him to display his chivalric side. The walk home is quiet— not a word is exchanged. He’s just letting your previous confession sink in.
The night officially ends with a wave as you enter through the front door. He lingers for just a bit longer, wanting to ensure your safety until the elevator. Once you disappear past sliding doors, George heads out for the night.
Slowly but surely, those late nights start to turn into a normal thing. It was typically once a week, and now it seemed like every night that George lingered around just a bit longer. You assumed that at first he was just there to work on songs, but slowly he started to migrate into your office, and that feeling faded into an assumption to keep you company. Make sure you had someone to rant to about the difficulties of beginner graphic designing and the struggles of trying to find other artists willing to collaborate with a team that could barely collaborate with each other. However, improvement had undoubtedly been made. It had been a long time since the last serious fight.
Tonight was different. You didn’t have to stay, but you did, for your own sake. You were getting seriously involved with this band, and considering they had a worldwide tour coming up, you needed to extend your knowledge of rock music. You spent hours watching performances from various bands. Your research offered artists from grunge bands like Hole to classic pop-rock, like The Beach Boys. You felt the tragedy of Dexter Holland singing about his near-death experience, but you also experienced the joy of freedom and expression behind Freddie Mercury’s Don’t Stop Me Now.
It took George longer to make his appearance that night. He slithered into your office in a discreet fashion, eyeing you carefully. You hadn’t seemed to notice him— Your eyes were focused on the bright screen that illuminated your face in the pitch black of your office. His attention fell to the contents of your media consumption, and he paused. Your efforts have led you to an interesting place.
You were watching him. It was one of FAST LANE’s original performances, back when they were just a local band trying to get by. They all looked young and dumb, but happy. Free from the merciless jaws of fame and fortune. Your eyes sparkled with wonder. You sat at the edge of your chair as if the sight was a suspenseful horror movie rather than a crappy performance recorded on an old digicam to preserve the nostalgia.
“What are you doing-”
“HOLY SHIT-” You actually jumped out of your chair, scrambling to cover your monitor. You looked like you had been caught watching sketchier subject matter. Your heart was pounding so loudly you could barely hear the soft rhythms coming from the speakers in your room. George stood there, his face barely lit by your device. “Jesus fuck, George… You scared the shit out of me.”
You slowly fell back into your chair, pausing the video to take a deep breath. He laughed, seating himself at the cushioned chair in the corner of your office. He played with the frayed seams of the arms. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m watching an old performance. Thought I should brush up on my knowledge,” You were somewhat embarrassed to admit it. Weeks ago, you had kept telling yourself this was only a temporary job, and now you were preparing to go on tour with five idiots that had completely won you over. You were invested. There was no getting you out now. “Look how young you look!”
“I look like a newborn baby.” He sighed, rubbing his smooth chin. “Still do.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“It’s what I do best.” He stared at his former self for a moment longer and then laughed. “I think it was only a year or so before this that I made a shitty audition for a boy band.”
…
“You’re joking.”
“If only.”
“I will be scouring the internet for that later.” He shakes his head and laughs, looking down at the object clutched in his hands. You peek at it, and then look back at him. “Why are you still here?”
He gave you a rather pointed look, and you giggled. You knew why he was there, but you wanted him to say it nonetheless. “Working on song lyrics again.” He knew what your next question would be, so he handed you the book before you could even ask it. You flipped to the dog-eared corner, which represented the last page you had read. “Let me know what you think.”
You scan over the words again, nodding your head along. You learned to imagine beats and rhythms as you read his writing. It was a lot easier after spending so much time around music. It eventually started to consume you and your mind. You couldn’t count the number of times your brain was fixated on things like quarter notes and triplets rather than genuinely concerning matters.
“I like it,” You reply genuinely as you flip to the next page. He suddenly reaches forward, tearing the notebook from your hands. You don’t question it, but you do raise a brow.
“Thanks,” He scrambles to flip it shut. You have to wonder what the hell was in there. Maybe you’d get him drunk one day, and he’d just end up spilling it on his own.
The air was tense.
“It’s late,” You state. It’s just an actual fact, but George knows what it means. It means you want to leave, so he lets you.
But first, he asks, “Are you okay with driving home?”
“Yup.”
No personal escort necessary. Not tonight. He leaves shortly after you, scolding himself for always making things awkward.
It was a bright and sunny day out— Perfect for a bike ride, which is just what you were preparing for. You were about to finish tying your shoes when you heard the overfamiliar tune of your ringtone. You reached over to the coffee table, fumbling with the device before straightening it out to read the caller ID.
Mom!
You bit your cheek thoughtfully before deciding to answer. She rarely called anymore— A talk might be nice. Plus, it could be important family news. What if someone was sick or injured, or maybe—
“Y/N, what the hell is this?!” Her voice sounded distressed. You started to worry, but you had to remember that she always was one to get her feathers in a bunch over trivial matters. “Do you understand what you’ve done? I can’t believe you, going around my back like that-”
“What, Mom, slow down!” You stand up, nearly tripping over your untied laces in the process. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s going on?”
“Have you not seen the news articles? Good grief, child, open my messages!” You switch her over to speaker phone, tuning out her fast-paced rambling as you slide to your text messages. Sure enough, she had sent you a link alongside a bunch of cursing emojis. You tap the article, your eyes scanning with haste. “They’ve got it printed out everywhere! What a disgrace this is-” You hang up.
L/N heir abandons her family to work for a bunch of grungy losers.
What a headline. You almost laugh, but the further you read, the angrier you got.
The band’s frontman, George Russell, claims that Y/N confided about her family background once. “It didn’t sound pretty,” said Russell.
That’s all you needed to see. You stormed out to your car, shoes untied and clothes askew. You drove with the anger of a betrayed woman; you were aggressive. All you could focus on was reaching the studio. You didn’t care if you were interrupting their ‘private rehearsals’ because this was far more important.
You grabbed the rolled-up newspaper from the mailbox as proof of your rage on the way in. The bell rang out loud and clear, indicating your entrance into the building. You could hear laughter from within the walls of the studio. It stopped when you barged in, knuckles pale from how hard you were gripping that phony bullshit of news.
“Oh, shit- Y/N,” Lando greeted with a sheepish tone, embarrassed that you had caught them all slacking off.
“Shut it,” You snapped. You felt guilty for yelling at Lando, but you were clearly pissed off. It was his fault for poking the bear! You stomped your way to the table where they were all sitting, each of them gazing at you with surprise, fear, and… Maybe a little amusement. You slammed the newspaper down onto the table, and it made a resounding ‘SMACK’ of a noise. “What the fuck is this, George?!”
“I don’t-”
“Read it, dipshit!” You take a small step back, crossing your arms over your chest. He winces like a hurt puppy at your scolding and reaches out for the article quickly. His eyes scan over the words, mouth falling agape and eyes widening.
“Y/N, listen, I-”
“Save it.”
Lando snatched the paper from George, and Charles and Oscar both leaned in to skim it over as well. Max is just staring between the two of you, trying to get a full read of the situation.
You lock eyes with your culprit. He looks… Scared, uncertain, and for some reason, that only worsens your anger. Without another word, you storm out of the room. You can hear heavy footsteps as he chases after you, his hand making contact with your wrist just as the door to the studio shuts, giving you guys an ounce of privacy.
“Look, I’m sorry!”
“Do you know why you’re sorry, or are you just saying that because you think it’ll fix all of this?!” You rip your hand from his grip, and he seems to falter. George doesn’t even know what to say. His silence speaks loudly. “God, just when I was starting to like you, too.” You mutter.
He can feel his heart shattering into a million pieces.
“Good luck finding a new manager who’ll put up with your bullshit. It’s not worth it anymore.” That’s the last thing you say before you leave. He doesn’t follow you. He sits there, dumbfounded and confused.
Worst of all, he truly is sorry. He just doesn’t know how to say it.
He wanders back into the studio where everyone else is waiting. When they see that you’re gone and that George’s head is hung low, they know.
Lando’s both the first and last to speak for the day, “Guess we’re back to our old management.”
It was hard to fill the hole in your heart. No more of Charles’ deep, philosophical advice that actually made no sense in reality. No more of Lando’s stupid jokes that had extremely predictable punchlines. No more of Oscar’s sappy song lyrics that he seemed so embarrassed to share. You even missed Max and George bickering.
You tried to find a new place to call home within a different band, but it wasn’t the same. They were all particularly stuck-up and selfish people, blinded by their own fame. FAST LANE was a treat, you just never got the opportunity to realize that. I guess the saying is correct. You don’t know how good you have it until it’s gone.
But it had to happen. You miss George’s fat mouth the least. That was something you could do without, and you had to keep reminding yourself of that. It was time to forget about how melodious his laughter was, how sweet his smiles were, and how genuine the lyrics he poured his heart into seemed to be.
The band was preparing to go back on stage for their encore. The crowds were loud, screaming their name like it was life or death. The lead guitarist bumped into you, scoffing afterwards. “God, can you just… Not be in the way?” The group seemed to laugh, making eye contact subtly. It was a big inside joke, and you were the punchline of it all.
“Yeah, okay,” You mutter between clenched teeth as you remove your headset. One month of this bullshit? Yeah, you were done. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
You start to grab your things. The bassist, who’s sipping from her water with that stupid smug grin, calls out in a degrading tone, “Where are you going? Off to cry? Did we hurt your feelings?”
“Nope,” You reply casually. You even send them a grin as you walk towards the door. “I quit.”
You felt relief as you left the performance hall, exiting out into the warm summer day. No more musty rooms that smelled like awful body odor and unwashed clothes. No more loud, annoying music that lacked proper rhythm. No more bands. Period. It was time to move on.
“Y/N.”
God damnit.
“George,” You mutter with certainty. His voice makes you stop, slowly turning to face him. He looks the exact same physically, but you can see in his face that he’s been through it. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. His hair is messy, his clothes don’t really match, and there are bags under his eyes. “Why are you here?”
“Can’t a guy enjoy a performance?” You blink, and he deflates a noticeable amount. “Alright. I just wanted to… Check on you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” You grumble. “I mean, seriously, I don’t want you to.”
“I’m sorry,” he calls out before you can leave. “And I finally know why.” This catches your attention, so… You stay where you are, your back turned to him. Maybe it’s not apparent, but this was your way of giving him the time of day. He’d take what he could get. “Because you trusted me, and even if I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, it clearly was. It wasn’t the fact that your secret got leaked that upset you, but the fact I was the one to do it.”
“You really hurt me, George.” You state firmly, your fist clenching around the strap of your bag.
“I know.” As always, the silence seems to settle uncomfortably. It invites itself into spaces it’s unwanted. It speaks louder than words. Always. But this time, George doesn’t let it. “I actually got accepted into that boy band, but Max told me it was a bad idea, so I quit before it even started.”
“What?”
“And I have a secret playlist full of sad modern pop songs that I cry to, even if I have nothing to cry about.” You turn around to face him, tilting your head. Has he gone crazy? Is the lack of sleep getting to him? “I pretended that the makeup tutorial I made a year ago was just for jokes, but in reality, I practiced that winged eyeliner for weeks.”
“George-”
“My notebook is full of secret love songs about you.” Oh. “Because I’m… Well,” He’s gone fidgety, which isn’t common for him. He’s always so full of confidence and maturity, but when he’s around you, he feels like he can be vulnerable. Even when you’re angry… Rightfully so. “I’m in love with you.”
You don’t have anything to say. Your gut is a mix of emotions right now. Anger, hatred, confusion, uncertainty— There’s this weird, fuzzy feeling that makes you feel light, too. But you keep trying to push that one away.
“I’m not just saying that because I miss you, either. I’m saying it because I told everyone your secrets, so now, if you want to, you can tell everyone mine.” You have to avert your gaze because he’s looking at you with those big eyes of his, and it makes you feel incredibly nervous. “It’s not the same without you. We’re fighting nonstop. They all blame me, and I understand why.”
“Because you’re an idiot,” You finish. He smiles. It’s weak, but it’s genuine.
“Because I’m an idiot,” he repeats.
You slowly walk over to him. He doesn’t say anything— just watches. Waits. For anything. “You’re lucky you’re pretty,” You mutter right before taking hold of the collar of his shirt and pulling him in. Your lips are pressed to his, and weeks of unrequited, ignored feelings are flowing out into one passionate kiss.
It takes him a moment to find his balance. He feels utterly elated at the sensation of your soft, plump lips and the way your warm, delicate hands hold his face. But finally, after what felt like years of poking and pushing and yearning, George kisses you. His hands settle on your waist, but when you pull away, he realizes he’s not ready and wraps his arms around your torso to keep you there a bit longer.
It’s not perfect, but that’s why it’s so lovely. Nothing should ever be perfect. That’s why you’ve chosen to forgive the idiot.
The vibes are down when you both walk into the studio. He tugs his hand away from yours, and you don’t argue. Maybe it’s best to hold off on telling them— Except for the fact he announces it as soon as you walk in.
“I got the girl!” He cheers as he barges in. They all flinch, and their eyes immediately look towards you.
“Y/N!” Lando shouts. He jumps up to pull you into a hug, squeezing you so tight that your back pops quite loudly. You wince when he lets go to grab your shoulders. “You’re back!”
“Alright, relax,” George ushers him away, guiding you to sit down.
“Aren’t you guys supposed to be on tour?” You finally ask, settling in beside your re-established companions.
“We learned we can’t operate without our manager,” Charles admits, making you grin with pride.
“Good to know.”
“George, isn’t it kinda unprofessional for the two of you to date?” Max asks, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
George pauses. He looks at you, then at Max. “I don’t know, we'd better ask our manager.”
They all turn to you, and you laugh.
“Your manager says it’s fine.”
BONUS!!
You’ve all brought out endless drinks to celebrate your return, as well as your laptop to hash out revised tour dates, and a planned apology to the public. George has his arm around your waist and his head on your shoulder, watching you type away through sleepy eyes.
Everyone is winding down. Hardcore rock has faded into soft music as you all settle on the sofa, squished together like sardines. Without even thinking, you blurt out…
"Have you heard of George Russel? He's a damn good guitarist."
George's Love Interest...
❝ HER SOUL IS FIERCE, HER HEART IS BRAVE! ❞
Y/N is 27 years old and living on their own in Monaco. They come across a flyer one day, offering a job to anyone willing to manage a band. They've heard of the group before but are not particularly interested in fame; they just want the money. But, while there, they discover how truly dysfunctional this group is and dedicate themself to fixing broken bonds, and to tormenting their frontman.
💜 here, OMG your Fast Lane band au piece looks like it's gonna be AMAZING you have no idea how excited i am ugh this is AMAZING XD
I’m so glad you’re excited!! (๑>◡<๑) I’m working on George’s chapter first and so far it’s a lot longer than I anticipated so I might have to tide over the wait with little teasers (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)…
Here’s a Lando cameo. A… Landeo…
Some of them are definitely over dramaticized for the plot, but I’m having fun writing it so I don’t care!
OSCAR PIASTRI’s been overshadowed his whole career. Fans obsess over Russell, the lead guitarist of FAST LANE, but what they don’t realize is that they’re missing out on the delight that is Oscar Piastri! He’s used to sitting back and watching everyone else get attention. That is, until you show up. You’re bright and cheery; eager to get his autograph. He’s so desperate for your attention that he can’t help but exchange the signature for your phone number. The issue? Management finds it inappropriate for him to date a fan.
CHARLES LECLERC doesn’t like rock music. When his lifelong friends begged him to join, he couldn’t resist. But now, as he pursues a career he doesn’t want, Charles comes to regret it, especially after meeting you at a classical concert. You share his love for the arts, and he realizes that there’s more to life than heavy metal. Everyone’s afraid that you’ll be what tears them apart.
MAX VERSTAPPEN hates people that snoop. He’s mysterious in the way that the most people know about him is maybe his height and shoe size, but other than that, Verstappen keeps it under wraps. But when you come in and try to dig up his scandals, he finds that he struggles keeping things hidden from such a pretty girl. It seems that Max ends up sharing a bit too much.
LANDO NORRIS’ soul is as competitive as they get. If it weren’t for the persistent work of their drummer, FAST LANE wouldn’t have so many ‘battle of the bands’ awards sitting on the shelf of their HQ. He’s never lost, especially to another person of his same occupation. Until you show up. You’re beautiful, but you’re also really fuckin’ awesome. He struggles defining the line between hatred and being head over heels.
GEORGE RUSSELL has been known to cause drama within the group. He loves to mess with his bandmates and poke fun at them until they’re practically seething, but they’ve had one too many close calls and break-up scares to be comfortable. So, in an intervention-style meeting, they decide to hire you. You help the band settle in together, and mostly help George remain civil, while managing their shows. Except… he seems to be dead set on pushing you away from finding his true colors.
CONTENT ☆
BACKGROUND INFORMATION ☆
LEARNING TO SHUT UP! : 7.9K - George Russell x Reader
While walking along the street, a discarded flyer blows past in the wind…
With ever-growing curiosity, you collect the crumpled piece of paper to examine up close, unfolding it like a scroll.
MEET THE BAND! ☆
Lead Guitarist!
GEORGE RUSSELL x Manager!reader
GEORGE RUSSELL has been known to cause drama within the group. He’s constantly riling up his bassist, and degrading his other members to uplift himself. When they nearly split over these differences, they collectively decide to hire you. George discovers you’re just what he needed to stay grounded ♡
COMING SOON…
Drummer!
LANDO NORRIS x Rival!reader
LANDO NORRIS’ soul is as competitive as they get. He’s the whole reason FAST LANE enters various music competitions to begin with. He’s confident in his skills until he meets you, an overly confident and remarkably intelligent drummer: the first to rival his talent. He wants to hate you, but you’re too damn charming.
COMING SOON…
Bassist!
MAX VERSTAPPEN x Journalist!reader
MAX VERSTAPPEN hates people that snoop. He’s a fairly private man, which is a testament to his role. When you barge in after a particularly large scandal regarding the group’s lead guitarist and bassist, he struggles to keep his secrets, which then leads to trouble.
COMING SOON…
Keyboardist!
CHARLES LECLERC x Violinist!reader
CHARLES LECLERC doesn’t like rock music. He only plays for the band because his friends begged him too. However, when a fan approaches him one day and asks about his own personal album, he realizes his potential. You help him achieve his dream, but you also cause a rift in the group.
COMING SOON…
Rhythm guitarist!
OSCAR PIASTRI x Fan!reader
OSCAR PIASTRI’s been overshadowed his whole career. People love the lead guitarist— They rarely turn a blind eye to the rhythmic one. But when a cheery fan, roughly his age, is first in line to get his autograph, he can’t help but feel somewhat attached to her.
COMING SOON…
INFO ☆
All graphics are made by me, so please do not steal!
All stories were written by me and are original plots :)
Each driver involved is intended to only have one chapter
Okay, but here's another question... What jobs do you think the drivers would have of they weren't a driver? Or what they would major in? (loved the story btw!! :))
YOU DON’T GET WHAT YOU WISH FOR,
YOU GET WHAT YOU WORK FOR.
WORK FOR IT
2025 Grid x Reader
SUMMARY 𐙚 What jobs I think the drivers would have if they weren’t in F1. Part 1, where I talk about the reader’s job, is here! I will be referencing this so I advise reading it first.
WARNINGS 𐙚 N/A!
WORD COUNT 𐙚 2.9K
A/N 𐙚 It was really hard to decide for all of these guys. Some of them do have doubles because I couldn’t think of anything else 😬 Maybe a university AU with some of the younger drivers is needed now. Love ♥︎ Cher
DIRECTORY | MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN
RedBull ෆ
Max Verstappen
Motorsports
Unfortunately I’m a firm believer that if it’s not F1 for Max Verstappen, it’s gonna be a different motorsport. He has racing so deeply imbedded in his soul that I just can’t imagine him doing anything else. I also think that he could potentially be a streamer in another universe, but I think he’s a racer first. Imagine MotoGP Max, or maybe even Nascar Max. He loves the thrill and that’s not something he’ll abandon. So, if he doesn’t make it to F1, there’s lots of other options for this boy.
Let’s go with MotoGP. Imagine the badass pairing of a bartender and a motorcyclist. It’s quite literally a match made in heaven. Bonus points if the reader also rides motorcycles, so they can go out on adventures together. Or, if that’s not your style, he loves to have you ride on the back with your arms around his waist and all.
Yuki Tsunoda
Chef
This guy loves his food, which leads me to believe that culinary school is in his alternative future. I think Yuki could live it up as a chef that experiments with food from all corners of the world— Except America. He refuses to partake in the oily food from America, as we’ve all learned.
And hey, a chef and a seamstress isn’t exactly the expected duo, but it could work. Maybe you’re the one making the uniforms for his restaurant, and designing the logos and such. Even if he’s just in the kitchen working his magic, he still needs to look good to represent his business! It works, okay?
Mercedes ෆ
George Russell
Politician
There was a video where drivers made up what another driver would do if not F1, and a lot of people suggested George was a politician, and I 100% agree. While he said he’d be a farmer, I think he has a talent that shouldn’t go to waste. He’s a very convincing fellow that has a knack for following the rules and maybe even being a bit bossy. He exudes the vibes of someone who is a great leader, so he’d likely be a pretty decent politician.
I don’t really think your jobs intertwine much, but that’s just fine. Graphic design doesn’t have the biggest role to play in politics, but he always tries to find a place to squeeze your work in. Besides, it’s not like they have to match up perfectly anyway. You both have your own respective lives, and the life that you share together. He’s still super supportive nonetheless.
Kimi Antonelli
Scientist
Scientist Kimi! I don’t know why, but I can see it. I think if we want to be more specific, he’d study pharmacology, but I can really picture him working with chemicals in some way. I need to see Kimi in a lab coat and goggles messing around with chemicals. Maybe he’s not the best and maybe it blows up in his face, but he’s having a lot of fun. Maybe he’ll accidentally create a whole new element.
And he has his tutor girlfriend to stand by his side and support him. You’re there to offer knowledge and help in all fields. An intelligent girl matched with an equally intelligent boy is a nearly dangerous duo, and people acknowledge that. All of his friends are a little scared. You have the potential to someday rule the world— But with your childish smile and his cute curls nobody would take you seriously. Maybe it’s best you stick to science.
Ferrari ෆ
Charles Leclerc
Architect
An architect and a fashion designer. Yes, this seems about right. You’re both designing, just in your own way. I’d like to think you each contribute and help each other with the designing process, and it’s always easy to tell what aspects were thrown forth by the other person. Suddenly he’s bringing math equations into your designs, and you’re bringing little details and trends to his.
Charles himself said he’d like to be an architect, but if I were to assign him something from my own mind, I’d probably say music. It’s clear it’s something he’s very passionate about, and he’s very musically talented too. I can picture the reader sitting with him and resting her head on his shoulder while he plays.
Lewis Hamilton
Fashion designer
Yet another obvious choice. Maybe him and Charles’ girlfriend can be friends. Anyway, a makeup artist and a fashion designer kind of go hand in hand. You’re in the fashion industry, and you both work with specific clientele. Maybe you’re even a package deal. Celebrities hire one of you, and they end up hiring the other too. Just for fun.
I think this choice is obvious because it’s clearly that Lewis has a talent for fashion. His work with the Met Gala, and his day to day wear just proves that. He’s always dressed to the tens in my opinion, and I think he should spread that knowledge with the world. He’s a genius!
McLaren ෆ
Oscar Piastri
Engineer
Yes, Oscar’s expressed before that he would go into engineering if it weren’t for his current career. It makes sense. The boy’s smart, and his family has a history with racing so it’s not like mechanical engineering is all that far off. I can even see him being a track engineer. I think he’d have some decent strategies to share with a team, and would be smart enough to handle all the numbers and stats.
Now, it’s not really like his occupation matches up with yours either, but again… I think that’s okay. If he was an F1 engineer, I could see him taking you along with him, so as a food critic you’re getting to travel the world and experience dishes from different regions. So maybe in that sense, you’re perfect for each other. Who knows.
Lando Norris
DJ
Similar to George, a lot of the other drivers said that if he wasn’t a racing pilot, he should be a DJ. Esteban Ocon himself said that Lando got up behind the booth and made some decent beats, so with a bit more practice he could definitely do it. He also has the necessary party boy energy to pull off being a DJ, so it makes a lot of sense in the long run.
I’m not sure how well a teacher and DJ would work, but I think that’s ultimately part of the charm. You’re total opposites. One of you is quiet and collected while the other is loud and chaotic and it makes you relationship consistently interesting and engaging for you both. If you were paired with people exactly like yourselves, you’d probably get bored after awhile. Each of you brings something new to the table.
Aston Martin ෆ
Fernando Alonso
Football / Soccer
This was hard because, much like Max, it was hard to see Fernando doing anything but racing. I was almost tempted to keep him in motorsports as well, but I chose not to because I remember Fernando saying he liked football, and that just makes a lot of sense in my mind. I definitely don’t think he’d play football as long as he raced for F1, so after he reaches a certain age he retires, but I can see him pursuing this career at some point.
The life of a football player with a wedding planner wife is rather domestic. You’re constantly doting on him and taking care of him, treating your retired lover as if he’s old and decaying. He insists that he can do everything on his own, but he does like the attention nonetheless, so Fernando sits back and lets you pamper him like he’s your princess. Hey, whatever keeps the man busy.
Lance Stroll
Business man
I was unsure about this one, but I think considering that his dad is a business man, it makes sense for Lance to follow a similar destiny. Maybe he also ends up owning his own F1 team, who knows? I think he’s a very diplomatic guy, even if he’s somewhat introverted. That doesn’t mean he’s rude or anything, so talking business would come along just fine for Lance! He’s a very smart guy. I’m picturing him as a CEO of sorts.
He doesn’t play about you, either. You get to act as his sugar baby for a while, even though you make plenty of money yourself. He loves getting to tell you to buy whatever you want using his card, and he loves spoiling you. If you need new equipment for writing, he’ll buy it. If you need help getting your books published, he’ll talk to people for you. If you need help advertising, he’s on it. Lance is there to assist you in everything. He’s your partner in crime!
Alpine ෆ
Pierre Gasly
Football / Soccer
Okay I KNOW, this is unoriginal, but if you look at Pierre’s instagram there’s lots of photos of him playing football and I think it just makes sense to me. He kind of has the appropriate build for one too? Muscular, but also very strong legs and a good runner. I can’t really describe it, just trust me.
And, since he’s still in a sport, you can continue to be his social media manager and like everything related to him. People are still stunned to find out that Pierre runs his accounts and is the one viewing everything, but they’re even more stunned to find out that a majority of the time you’re the one actually liking the posts because every time you see anything related to him you giggle uncontrollably and spam the like button. Still a perfect, dynamic duo.
Franco Colapinto
Journalism
This guy likes his gossip. Franco’s charismatic enough to be able to easily interview people, and I firmly believe in that. He loves catching up on all the latest gossip and posting about it online for everyone to see. It doesn’t matter if it’s none of his business, because he’s gonna make it his business. Either way, he tends to be fairly respectful about what he posts. Even if he wants to phrase it in the most dramatic way possible, Franco sticks to the facts. And what he assumes are facts.
He likes to work on his pieces while he’s in your shop. He’s usually sitting behind the counter while you tend to customers, typing away on his newest report back to his boss. Every now and then he gets a few weird looks, almost like people recognize him, but they aren’t quite sure if it’s actually him or not.
Williams ෆ
Carlos Sainz
Boxer
Ohhhh… Okay sorry let me compose myself. Carlos gives off these casual aggressive vibes that tell you he’s not someone to be messed with, but also he’s a very sweet guy deep down. He loves his job, but he makes sure to remain unbiased and sportsmanly throughout, because it’s important to ensure that your opponent knows they did a great job too. He always said he’d remain an athlete if he was to do something other than F1, and while boxing probably isn’t on the top of his list, I can see it happening.
A boxer and a baker. It’s very much giving cute wife who bosses her strong husband around like it’s no big deal. Sure, he’s a champion in the ring, but when Carlos comes home he has to listen to you first. You’re the one wearing the pants in this relationship. He doesn’t mind, either. It’s nice to come home and be ordered around by you.
Alex Albon
Golfer
Vet gf and golfer bf. Makes perfect sense to me. He’s out there enjoying a nice day on the fresh green grass while you’re taking care of very cute patients. It’s a win for you both, and at the end of the day you both get to come home and relax together and talk about your days.
I think golf suits Alex. I know he always jokes about being terrible about it, especially in comparison to his actual girlfriend (The beautiful that is Lily Muni He) but if he had years of experience like he does with F1, I think he’d be really talented! It’s something that he loves already, so it makes sense.
Visa Cash App Racing Bulls ෆ
Liam Lawson
Actor
Uhm, hello have you seen him acting in the VCARB tiktoks? Perfect. But also I think he’d be typecasted as a stereotypical teen in the 90’s. He looks young enough, and that’s exactly how he dresses and acts. He’d be very charming with younger audiences due to his boyish charm. He just needs to brush up on those acting skills a bit and then we have the perfect actor.
And hey, you’re an actress. It fits perfectly. Maybe the two of you meet on set. Maybe you’re even casted to play lovers, and then it just ends up being that you come out of the experience actually dating. Who’s to say if it actually works out. Lots of actors say it’s hard to date your co-worker, but you guys would have to disagree, because you’re going strong!
Isack Hadjar
Physicist
Isack’s dad is a physicist! I think it would be cute if he followed in his footsteps. Most F1 drivers do follow in their parent’s footsteps, especially their dad, but Isack didn’t. However, imagining a universe where he did is interesting. He’d probably have the brain for it, he’d just have to dedicate a lot of his time to school, which might be hard.
A physicist and a photographer. I think you guys both like to discuss your more nerdy occupations. You get to rant about photo editing and camera settings, and he gets to rant about astrophysics and a lot of stuff you don’t entirely understand, but you enjoy hearing nonetheless. This is my favorite duo, never stop being a nerd.
Kick Sauber ෆ
Nico Hülkenberg
Male model
Nobody can convince me otherwise. He has the perfect face for modeling. Ruggedly handsome with a slight stubble and nice hair. I almost gave Carlos this role, but I think Nico is perfect for a model. If he hasn’t already received offers, he should, because he’s 37 and he looks fantastic still.
A model and a sommelier is a great duo, actually. You both have jobs seen as sophisticated. You’re a killer duo, the type of couple that can kill with your looks alone. He’s always impressed by your extensive knowledge, and you’re impressed by just how beautiful he is. You like to show him off at events you’re invited to, and he likes to do the same himself. Power couple. End of sentence.
Gabriel Bortoleto
Sports commentator
Not sure of this one either. I think Gabi would be a very fun commentator, always making silly quips and witty jokes that draws the audience in while retaining that necessary sports knowledge. At first he’d definitely let the other commentators do a lot of the talking, but once he’s warmed up to the environment, you hear him just as much as you hear the others. There’s no more hiding!
I think a streamer and a commentator is a silly duo as well. Maybe sometimes you stream sports and commentate it to mimic your boyfriend, which he always pretends to be offended by, but he thinks it’s adorable in reality. He likes showing up on your streams too. I love them. I’m jealous of you, reader.
Haas ෆ
Oliver Bearman
Male model
ALRIGHT I KNOW. I’m being unoriginal again, but have you SEEN Ollie?! He’s absolutely model material as well. Tall, handsome, fit. He might need some training on how to pose and walk a runway, but he’ll get it down eventually. I can also see him being like a hand model for watches and jewelry and such. He has very nice, soft hands that are still very masculine.
A painter and a model are you SERIOUS? I know I wrote it but I’m also fangirling because wow. He can quite literally be your muse. He doesn’t even have to sit there, because there’s thousands of beautiful pictures online for you to use. Although it does make the experience a lot more special when he offers to be your live model and pose for you. It’s like something only you get to see. Yeah… Huge fan of this.
Esteban Ocon
Comic book editor
PLEASE he would have a BLAST. He gets to read all these superhero comics, and he actually gets to contribute to the process of making them. I don’t know I just love the idea of a superhero fanatic, especially someone who loves Spiderman like Estie, getting to edit the scripts for comics. He’d be so into it, too. Like “this idea is unoriginal, so you should go for something like this” because he’s already read so many comics out there that he can recite plot lines from a lot of them.
And trust that I am a huge fan of goddess girlfriend and loser boyfriend. A model with a comic book editor? Nobody would see it coming. Imagine pulling up to the red carpet, cameras flashing as a tall, handsome figure emerges from the limo and it’s… Oh, it’s just some guy they’ve never seen before, but you look so happy that it’s impossible to harbor any judgement. It’s adorable how much you two love each other.
Cher!! I love your writing and you aesthetic so much :)
You’re a graphic designer yeah? What driver do you think would work well with a graphic designer reader, and on that note, what occupation do you think each driver’s s/o would have?
And do you do emoji anons? 👀 If so can I be 🫧?
I LOVE HER AS SHE IS,
DOING HER THING!
WORK IT!
2025 Grid x Reader
SUMMARY 𐙚 What jobs I think each driver’s girlfriend would have + how you first met.
WARNINGS 𐙚 Fluff, reader is described with feminine terms, mentions of alcohol / handling alcohol, not proofread
WORD COUNT 𐙚 6.3K
A/N 𐙚 Hi!! Tysm I love my theme, and yes I do accept emoji anons! Hello 🫧 !! Also, before I actually write, I love all the WAGs and respect their jobs, but I wanted to romanticize this a bit so… All the drivers are getting hypothetical new girlfriends with weird and interesting occupations and personalities
DIRECTORY | MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN
RedBull ෆ
Max Verstappen
Bartender
You cannot convince me this man isn’t always in need of a drink. Whether he’s celebrating or he’s upset, Max likes a good gin and tonic. Sure, he can make his own, but nobody makes it as good as his lovely girlfriend: a bartender. That’s right! He met you at a club in Monaco, of course. It was after he had won a grand prix, and he kept coming back for more and more alcohol until he was blackout drunk. You had to call him a cab home, and he kept mumbling about how beautiful and perfect you were. When he came back to retrieve his lost phone the next day, he apologized and properly asked you out.
But it’s also nice because Max’s favorite way to relax with you is to lay across the couch, drink in hand, and watching a show you both enjoy. He doesn’t want to overwork you, but if you offer to whip something up real fast, he’s definitely not going to say no to your hard work and encourage you to keep doing what you love. Side note, I genuinely think he loves being able to party at the club you work at. He loves getting to enjoy a night out, but also being able to visit you whenever he wants. His friends have stopped wondering where he’s ran off to after they found out who was behind the bar. They shouldn’t be surprised when he disappears every five minutes to go chat you up again. Sometimes regular patrons give him dirty looks because they think he’s hitting on you inappropriately, but then you flash the matching set of rings and they simmer down.
Yuki Tsunoda
Seamstress
I’ll be honest, I was unsure about this one, but I honestly think it makes a lot of sense. Yuki has really good style, so I had a feeling his partner should be related to fashion. However, seamstress was a bit of a stretch. I think you’d make a lot of clothes for him, which is why he has such great style to begin with. He’s wearing handmade, high quality patchwork hoodies and jeans and shoes that you decorated yourself, all made by you! So yeah, whenever someone compliments his very fitting form of fashion, he lets you know that the people are certainly admiring your work. Do we all remember when the internet went crazy over Yuki wearing his RedBull shirt unbuttoned? Yeah. All you.
He first met you when you were still just a fan. Some might argue the dynamic seems inappropriate, but you were never a huge fan of him specifically. Just… An F1 fan. You sewed shirts for the RedBull team, and they weren’t the typical tacky wear that the team usually received. These had lots of thought and enthusiasm put into them— He could only imagine how hard and how long you have slaved away making those, so he wore it with pride… Even if it was a tad bit too big. After that, he kept seeing you in the paddock, communicating with various engineers and drivers, collecting autographs like it was your job. He complimented your work, you introduced yourself, and the rest was history. So yeah, you ended up falling for the irresistible charm of Yuki Tsunoda, and honestly who can blame you?
Mercedes ෆ
George Russell
Graphic designer
Yes, okay. This is my line of work, and I honestly believe George would be the most supportive for a graphic designer out of everyone. I mean, he at least thinks he knows fashion and technology, so he assumes that he’s being helpful. I can see the two of you being high school sweethearts that pursued different paths, but stuck together. Of course you knew George was into racing at the time, because he was karting even back then, but you never expected him to reach such fame. He even managed to get to a job with the FIA, designing graphics for winners and podiums and such, so yeah. People have been silently appreciating your work for years. You’re the one who gets to see all the unused winner graphics.
Whenever you’re working on a project, you consult George. Even though half the time you don’t listen to his advice, it’s nice to get somebody else’s opinion and support. You know he’ll be honest instead of giving you that “it’s perfect the way it is” bullshit, so his unfiltered opinion is just what you need to get a sense of what the right direction might be. He used to sugarcoat it, but you eventually told him that his honesty wouldn’t hurt your feelings, and he started to be more open. Not that it was rude, because his opinions were still helpful and polite! He always tops it off with a kiss and a wish of good luck. He knows you’ll make the right decision.
Kimi Antonelli
Tutor
Alright. We all have fun joking about Kimi needing a math tutor, but what if he doesn’t. Because his girlfriend is one. You know? You’re still in school, just like him, so you make a lot of money by people paying you to help them out in classes. Yes, Kimi needs a nerd girlfriend I feel it in my SOUL. Now, contrary to popular belief, you actually don’t tutor him. Why? Because he gets distracted by you very easily. He can’t stop looking at your pretty eyes, your plump lips, and your soft hair. All he wants is to bury his face in your neck and lay on top of you 24/7/365, because you’re so soft and warm. So no, you don’t tutor him. You can’t tutor him. You’ve tried. You’ve failed.
He brings you to the Imola Grand Prix, happily showing you off and introducing you to all of his track mates with that huge boyish grin. He tells them all that you’re just his tutor, and that afterwards you’ll be in his drivers room teaching him the pythagorean theorem (which he doesn’t even know how to pronounce in any language, mind you, so he’s just stumbling over syllables to get the idea out.) You correct him and politely let them know you’re actually his girlfriend. They all tease him, insisting that this whole story was just an excuse to sneak you into his room for a cheeky make out session, which you both quickly deny with flushed cheeks and slight stutters. Looks like he’s been caught before he could even try.
Ferrari ෆ
Charles Leclerc
Fashion designer
Now this isn’t to say that Charles doesn’t already have good fashion sense, because he definitely does. However, I do think that after the two of you started dating, there was a noticeable change in his choices. He started to dress in a manner that was suitable to his… Well, everything. He had custom made clothes with logos pertaining to him on them, everything matched his face and body shape, and he was dressed to an absolute T. All thanks to you! He doesn’t even have to ask, you just quietly sketch up designs for jackets and shirts that he can proudly show off at races, and you’ve even helped him customize merch that is both affordable, and fits the aesthetic of most of his fans. Goodbye trashy t-shirts with a logo lazily slapped on, and hello well thought out designs.
You were definitely hired to design some of his merch after the team saw your concept sketches. He was completely clueless to your arrival, but once he saw you he knew there was something irresistible that surrounded you. Your aura was undeniably attractive, and you were a genius when it came to your job. Of course. He loved your sense of fashion, so Charles discreetly asked you out to go get coffee and discuss things some more. Except, the two of you ended up talking and laughing the entire time, so of course you had to reschedule. And then you had to reschedule again because the same thing happened. Then finally you realized what he was doing, and asked him out on an official date. From then on, he proudly showed you off as his girlfriend. No more hiding!
Lewis Hamilton
Makeup artist
Yes, both of the Ferrari boys have their fashion girlfriends. I think if they existed in the same universe they’d be really good friends, too. I think Lewis loves to listen to you rant about different qualities of makeup, and how different makeups can affect break-outs on skin, and how to prevent all that. There’s a lot that goes into your line of work, and he never gets tired of hearing it. I think his favorite thing is hearing you talk about different color palettes and how you decide what colors suit a client best. You’ve definitely done similar things on him, and he stays true to your advice and tries to mix those colors in to his outfits. He also refuses to hire anyone but you to do his makeup for events, and he brings you everywhere he can. Trust that you were attached at the hip during the Met Gala, and that he was announcing to everyone he met that you did his makeup, and how talented you are. Watch out because you’re gonna have so many clients coming your way.
Unlike Charles and his girlfriend, you were not hired to work for him when you met. It was actually more of a meet cute— He was asking for advice in your local beauty shop, because he figured you looked like you knew what you were doing and could tell him what the correct shade of blush was for his niece, who was clinging to his side. You were in awe because holy shit, the Lewis Hamilton was asking you for advice, which you gave while stammering to an embarrassing extent. He thanked you, and asked for your number with the excuse that he might need more advice in the future. You did not hesitate to give it to him, and while he didn’t call for advice, he did call to ask you out properly. Your dynamic is very much so “girlfriend who knows a lot about fashion and boyfriend who pretends not to so he can hear her ramble.”
McLaren ෆ
Oscar Piastri
Food critic
Oh yes, the two of you are most certainly bonding over a shared love of food. Oscar Piastri doesn’t present himself as a foodie, but it’s more of a hidden pleasure of his. I won’t lie, when you first mentioned your occupation he thought it was somewhat funny. Reviewing food for a living seemed like something simple. He took it at the base level ideation and assumed that’s all it was. However, when you got really invested with talking about it, Oscar was quick to learn there was so much more. You discussed about different types of recipes, and methods when it came to baking. You ranted about cuts of meat and how each one had its own taste. With your influence, he quickly became quite the enthusiast himself. So, every time you guys went to a restaurant, you both ordered something entirely new to compare and contrast to past dishes. It was fun getting to try new things with you.
When you first met, it was in a restaurant. One of those crowded places where you ended up shoulder to shoulder with a random stranger because of how busy it was. For you, that random stranger ended up being famous racer Oscar Piastri. Although it was awkward at first, you sparked up soft chatter about the meal. He told you he was having the same thing he always did: pasta. You explained your meal, which was exotic to the both of you. When you expressed your disinterest in the taste he teasingly asked what made you so qualified to comment on such a thing. That’s what he found out. Intrigued by your charm, and your passion for all things food, Oscar couldn’t help but ask for your number.
Lando Norris
Teacher
Lando, in my firm opinion, is fantastic with children. He’s a little immature himself, which gives him that natural charm that makes getting along with children easy. He has no troubles throwing on that enthusiastic tone that lights their brains up. One morning in particular, Lando’s dear friend Max had a huge favor to ask of him: Take Penelope to school. Kelly was out for work, and he was running a high fever, which meant ‘Uncle Lala’ was on duty for the day. Admittedly she was a little late, and she showed up with a smoothie from Lando’s favorite coffee shop and a brand new pair of shoes. While he’s good with kids, he’s terrible at saying no. He walked the young girl into her classroom, and he damn near lost his mind. You were perfect— radiant, kind, soft-spoken but not timid. The dream girl that mirrored him perfectly. Even though you playfully scolded them both for being late, all he could focus on was how beautiful you were.
From that day forward, Lando made it painfully clear that something was up. He offered nearly everyday to take Penelope to school, which Max and Kelly would not complain about. She always returned with a huge grin on her face, recommending that her uncle take her again because he was so fun. However, when she started talking about the flirty comments he’d exchange with her teacher, they realized why he was suddenly taking an interest in the life of their child. Lando loves hearing about your day and listening to the various interactions between the kids in your class. He’s smitten with you and your ability to flawlessly interact with children— Unfortunately this means your relationship is destined to be filled with baby fever from you both. 24/7.
Aston Martin ෆ
Fernando Alonso
Wedding planner
As expected, you meet at the wedding of a mutual friend. You planned everything from the venue to the number of flowers in each arrangement, and both the bride and groom were eternally grateful for your help. It was always much easier to have someone else do a majority of the planning for you while you got to sit back and nod along to every suggestion made. In short, your efforts paid off immensely. When you sat down at your assigned table, you were surprised to see the Spanish man in question not far behind you. He seated himself across from you, reaching a hand out to shake yours politely. He was charming right off the bat, his flirty comments flowing with ease. You almost wondered if you were intentionally set up to sit beside this guy, because your fun-loving personalities matched up nicely. He matched your vibe and you matched his.
Now you were going 20 years strong, each anniversary celebrated more profound than the last. You were teased nonstop by friends and friends of friends about the lack of a ring on your finger. “Twenty years and he still hasn’t made it permanent?” was something you heard more often than you were willing to admit, but in all honesty, neither of you were interested in the concept of marriage. Your love was all you needed to seal the deal. You didn’t require a fancy ring to know that. But finally, after years and years of waiting, Fernando dropped down to one knee to give you the opportunity to finally plan your own damn wedding, and you happily accepted. You harbored no anger towards his decision to wait, because ultimately it made the experience a lot more special. You finally got to be on the other end of things and understand firsthand why people hire you to begin with: Planning your own wedding is not all it cracks up to be.
Lance Stroll
Author
Lance needs the peace and quiet that an author girlfriend brings to his life. He’s a well known introvert, which has yet to go unnoticed by anyone that he’s met. Lance prefers to keep to himself, and tends to distance from individuals who are overly loud. While opposites tend to attract, such an ideal is not the case for this fellow. He dreams of a romantically quiet life, and you’re there to fulfill that for him. You meet in the most cliche spot possible: a library. He’s not even that big on reading, but the spot was quiet and it gave him an excuse to brood in a corner and listen to music. You happened to be doing a book signing that day, which made the joint just a tad bit louder than he would have liked. However, when he saw you sitting at a table with a line extending outside the door, a cute smile on your face… Lance was utterly captivated. Your voice was low, your smiles were awkward, and your hands were trembling. Maybe it was weird, but that was everything he yearned for and more. When people started to clear and you started to pack up, he made a move.
Safe to say that said move was successful. The early stages of the relationship were less than ideal with both of you waiting on the other person to initiate every single thing, but finally you warmed up to each other and fell into a comfortable rhythm with your everyday lives. He cherished the days where he came home from loud engines and bustling crowds to the soft clicking of your keyboard, and the occasional flipping of pages. At the end of the day, no matter how stressful things get, Lance will always be grateful for the safety of your warm embrace as you hold him close to you at night. You’re his rock and his anchor, keeping him safe from the extroverts of the world. The media finds the two of you to be the ideal celebrity couple. Matching aesthetics, personalities, and beliefs. Your relationship is private, but it’s far from a secret!
Alpine ෆ
Pierre Gasly
Social media manager
I thought I was funny for this. You’re not a very good manager, because you’re always sitting there beside him, giggling at every post he scrolls by that’s related to him. With that being said, you always reach out and double tap the screen, liking whatever stupid thing had you guys giggling to begin with. So, to the people who wonder why Pierre is always liking every F1 related post, it’s actually your doing. You’re less focused on your actual job, and more on whatever content other people have managed to come up with. It’s really funny, in your defense. You guys first met because you were hired as the Alpine social media manager, but you always ended up laughing just a tad bit too much with Pierre over your ridiculous ideas that he kept building on to. Half the time you barely were able to execute said ideas, and ended up going with something entirely different.
Pierre loves that he found someone to match his energy and be okay with his teasing, along with tease him back. You’re fun— sometimes even more fun than him. Everyone in the paddock would agree. He loves filming videos and taking pictures with you for social media pages, and he loves even more than you get a little bit more freedom with his personal account and have directly spiced up all of his most recent content. Pierre fans have been wondering why most of his stuff has been a lot more enjoyable. Little do they know, you’re quietly working your magic behind the screen. Sorry Pierre, you get no credit. Although, having a hilarious muse does make it much easier.
Franco Colapinto
Florist
With this little flirt, knowing a lot about flowers actually proves to have some value. Franco’s always going out of his way to impress you: fact. He loves bringing home flowers, especially after triple headers, or just generally weekends that felt extra long without you right there beside him. It’s a new bouquet every time. While it is handpicked and arranged by him, it’s safe to say that Franco actually has no clue what he’s doing; his decisions are based off the initial beauty level of the flower. But, we can’t rule out that he intentionally picks randomly, because he does seem to love hearing you lecture him about flower language. He’s got roses being romantic burnt into his memory, but he can’t quite remember that yellow carnations are supposed to mean rejection. He does remember your face the day you brought them home, though, so he decides based on that. You sounded so sad as you explained the initial idea, and Franco was quick to make something up. So now, you guys decided they meant the love of Franco Colapinto— Yeah. He got his own damn flower.
You, as expected, had a meet cute as well. It came straight from a tacky hallmark movie. You had simply been arranging your outdoor stand one day, when a particularly fast biker flew by, clipping the edge of your stand and sending flowers flying through the air. You were devastated to see your hard work flying through the air and drifting away from you. Thankfully, one kind passerby stopped to help you pick up the lost work. He was handsome in his own, unique way. Somewhat familiar, you were sure. He laughed with you as he helped you set things back up, dropping a few flirtatious remarks that had your cheeks growing increasingly warm. It wasn’t until he dropped a joke related to racing that you picked up on it and breathed out a rather distressed, “Oh my God you’re Franco Colapinto!” He barked out a laugh and nodded to confirm your suspicions. He insisted you take his number. You know, just in case you need help dealing with a runaway biker again. It had nothing to do with the fact he thought you were the most beautiful person alive. No, no way.
Williams ෆ
Carlos Sainz
Baker
Get this man a beautiful baker girlfriend who can make him all the sweets in the world. No, but I did have a thought process for this. First date, he still doesn’t quite know that you’re a professional baker, so he’s going on and on about his incredibly pancake recipe when you mention that it’s your favorite breakfast food. You have a recipe of your own, of course, but you’re intrigued by the way he seems so cocky with said recipe, so you let him make you some when you visit him. And honestly, they’re really quite good! You’re considering replacing your own recipe. You repay his kind offer by baking him sweets— and I mean you really got busy in that kitchen, because you’re probably about to hand over 10 large containers full of sweets with flushed ears that tell him everything he needs to know. He’s a little embarrassed that he was ranting about his tasty pancakes to someone who makes them professionally, but he was happy to hear you sincerely liked them.
Now imagine Carlos’ embarrassment when he recounts how the two of you met to begin with. After a long night, he stopped by a local café to pick up a pick-me-up. You were there, but you weren’t behind the counter. You were standing off to the side, leaning over it as you chatted to the barista with a cup of coffee in hand. He approached the register, and you both paused your conversation so said barista could assist him. When Carlos pondered on a dessert from the display case, you very casually suggested that he take a croissant with that ‘trust me’ sort of vibe. He teases you— asks you what makes you a master of breakfast pastries, and you just shrug nonchalantly and tell him that maybe you have ‘insider’ information. He assumes you’re a regular by now, and accepts your suggestion. He gets the croissant. And your number. And a first date… And the embarrassment of finding out way too late into your relationship that you’re the damn baker for the café. That was your insider info.
Alex Albon
Veterinarian
The more obvious choice, yes. While I was afraid this might be too on the nose, I think it makes a lot of sense, really. He has a lot of pets. What does a guy with a lot of pets often do? He takes them to the vet. Alex already takes great care of his pets, so this visit was a little out of the ordinary. His cat had fallen ill, and he needed to get the proper medicine to care for her. But there was you, the newest hire at the clinic who seemed so good with his pet. You gave her treats to keep her distracted as you checked her out, ensuring the man that this was just a common sickness and would pass, but if he wanted he could slip some allergy medicine into her food next time. He was forever grateful. But then, suddenly his pets were falling injured or ill left and right. A man who rarely visited the vet was now becoming a regular, always coming up with some sort of concern. “Doesn’t her leg look weird?” “Nope, looks good to me.” You eventually caught on, and told him that at a vet clinic there was no rules against dating clientele. Now, there was rules against dating patients, but that was because your patients were animals.
He works well with your nonchalant charm. You’re easygoing and laidback, and that’s just what Alex needs. He appreciates having someone he can chill with because his life is often so chaotic that it’s hard for him to take time for himself. Therefore, he has you now. Plus it’s always nice to no longer have to visit the vet when you can now just stop by his house for a quick check up. It becomes even easier when you move in with him, because instead of being worried he can just rely on you to tell him when things are wrong and need to be taken more seriously. All in all, he found an absolute keeper, and the internet won’t stop encouraging him to put a ring on it to ensure nobody else does. Although, not sure anyone needs a veterinarian quite like Alex Albon does. So, I think he’s safe for now.
Visa Cash App Racing Bulls ෆ
Liam Lawson
Actress
I like to think you actually met when filming the F1 movie. You’re a background support character in the film, and Liam was just there to play himself, much like all the other drivers. You two managed to bump into each other, and it seemed like day to day conversations started to take place. You’d share a joke you heard while standing behind him at the coffee making station, or catch him up on the latest set gossip in passing. He was charmed by your wit, and you were charmed by the way he cluelessly fumbled over words around you. Imagine how surprised he was when you asked him out. He felt somewhat disappointed because he had been hoping to have that honor for himself, but he was glad that you reciprocated his feelings.
I think Liam with an actress girlfriend just makes sense anyway. He’s all for the drama you bring to the table, and loves watching every single film you star in, whether it’s a big or small role. He’ll go to every premiere, red carpet, and gala you’re invited to as your plus one. Not only does he love to show his support, but he also realized early on that he gets to meet a lot of his own idols this way. You have lots of connections, and he now has a stack of autographs from famous celebrities at home. It’s a win-win.
Isack Hadjar
Photographer
Your first time meeting Isack was actually a little chaotic. The team hired you to shoot some shots from the first practice on Friday. It was experimental, because it was their first time hiring you, and it was your first time working for a huge company, let alone shooting athletic shots. When it started raining, you hadn’t even noticed. You were so focused on capturing everything perfectly, and with the right settings, that eventually you were completely drenched without a care in the world. It was really down pouring. Subsequently, teams were pulled in from the nasty weather to dry off and warm up. You, however, were still perched in the stands out in the rain, laser focused on your camera. Isack, ever the gentleman, came out with an umbrella and held it over your head. You hadn’t even realized he was there until you felt his shadow cast over you. You looked up, and nearly dropped your camera. You were stuttering all like “Oh- It’s- Oh no, it’s you- Gah, I’m so sorry!” Which only confused him more. You explained you were meant to be taking shots of his team today, but all the ones you got were bad. You were better with portraits. He was stunned by you too. You were beautiful, even with your wet hair plastered to your face and your clothes soaking wet. So, with red cheeks himself, he invited you in to take some portraits, which would hopefully give you a chance at staying with the team. And you did! Which then gave him enough time to work up enough courage to make a move.
You’re a little scatterbrained, it’s true. Every-time you come to the paddock, you’re in a panic as you ramble about how you accidentally left your SD card at home in your laptop, and that your whole reason for coming was now ruined because you didn’t have a way to take photos. Isack reassured you that missing one race wouldn’t be the end of the world. Besides, he ended up finding your SD card in your purse when you asked him to grab your phone. You’re lucky to have found him, because he certainly helps keep you grounded. You’d probably have floated off into space without Isack there to hold you down and keep you steady.
Kick Sauber ෆ
Nico Hülkenberg
Sommelier
You were evidently flawless at your job. You knew everything there was to know about wine, and all of its pairings with food. It was an elegant and refined drink to be saved for fancy events, much like the one you met your beloved at. Your relationship has been in the making for about three years now, and despite its… Awkward start, the two of you have been developing nicely. There was an event for F1 drivers hosted at a vineyard, and you were hired to take care of the wine: a rather simple job. Famous people weren’t a surprise to you anymore, but as you were sharing with your audience the history behind the drink you picked out, you felt your breath leave your body in an untimely manner. That was when he walked in, stealing away your attention. Salt and pepper stubble, a lazy smile, and an appearance that screamed ‘just woke up from a nap in the sun’ in the most endearing way possible. You, a normally charming and easygoing woman, were caught off guard and ended up muttering something stupid like “this wine is… fermented” followed by a nervous laugh, which cued your audience to chuckle along with you.
He teased you later. Of course he did, because how could he not notice the way you’d freeze as you quietly eyed him. When you were setting up glasses, he approached from behind, and you immediately turned around at the sound of his voice, which consequently sent one of the glasses flying. Nico, a man trained in his reflexes, caught it with ease that made your heart flutter. Thank God you managed to snatch him up, because nobody had ever made you feel such a way. It didn’t matter if he didn’t win on the track, because everyday he came home to the most beautiful woman possible, who’d shower him with lots of well deserved love. Plus, you always knew what wine would suit his mood. Yeah. He made the correct choice.
Gabriel Bortoleto
Streamer
We know how brain-rotted Gabriel is. You can’t tell me he doesn’t have a favorite streamer too. It’s you. Before you guys started dating he was a fan. He found your unique commentary on games to be interesting and the way you played— yada yada. Truth be told, he just thought you were pretty and funny. He even suggested through donations (under a secret account name, mind you) that you play one of the F1 games. With the money you earned from the donation, you bought it and showed the whole world just how awful you were. Gabriel secretly messaged you on instagram, claiming he had just found you when you were playing F1 24, and would love to come properly teach you how to play on stream. You agreed, of course. And it was a success. After the cameras turned off, he shyly admitted that he had actually been a fan of yours for awhile, because he felt bad for deceiving you. You just thought it was cute, and offered him the opportunity to come back if he so wanted.
Now, Gabi is a frequent feature on your streams. Not necessarily just as your partner in multiplayer games, but he can be seen on your face cam. Maybe he’s sleeping in the background, or he just happens to pass by. Sometimes he’ll even come give you a kiss in front of thousands of viewers, acting like he forgot you were streaming when in reality it was done intentionally. Sneaky bastard. Your fans love him, but Gabriel also loves to remind them that you’re a happily taken girl. You don’t mind anyway. It’s nice to see your longterm fanboy staking his claim in a way he thinks is secretive. Trust that you know… You always know what he’s up to. There’s no hiding it. Don’t be surprised if he starts spamming your chat with italian brainrot. Imagine having to explain to newcomers that it’s a regular thing, too.
Haas ෆ
Oliver Bearman
Artist
This is a pair nobody expected, to be honest. The Haas team was directed by PR to show up to an art event. Apparently the establishment was sponsoring them for the next race, and it was the polite thing to do. Oliver didn’t really care— He wasn’t a fan of PR events and media. He was outgoing and charming, but he tended to keep his life private for the most part. But he was glad he went, because when he saw you on a shaky ladder hammering in a stubborn nail with frustration, he knew you were someone to keep him on his toes. You had on overalls covered in paint. Some was fresh, but most of it seemed deeply imbedded in the fabric, like you wore them just to get them dirty. Your arms, too, were covered in colors. It was quite the sight. When you saw him, you dropped your hammer. Right on your foot, and then it tumbled down the ladder to fall unceremoniously on the ground. You hissed as you descended the ladder, jittery with excitement. You greeted him with a very enthusiastic handshake, announcing how you didn’t think he’d show up. You kept rambling, and he kept listening. Eventually you asked him if he could sit still, and he said yes, to which you replied with, “I wanna sketch you, then. You have this beautiful angelic vibe and I need that.” So, if that’s not forward I’m not sure what is.
It’s true. You’re his joy, and he’s your muse. And, for what it’s worth, Ollie was right. You certainly do keep him on his toes because he never really knows what’s next with you. You’re vibrant and fun and you love nature— The stereotypical small town girl who falls madly in love with a city boy. You like to run through tall grass barefoot and paint in the middle of giant fields whatever your heart desires, and now you’re dating Oliver Bearman. But it’s a good thing, because you both have changed each other in the best way possible, and even though you’re so different, you work harmoniously in a healthy relationship. You’re both happier than you’ve ever been, truly.
Esteban Ocon
Model
This man is TALL. He needs a tall girlfriend to sit by his side, and that just so happens to be you. You met at a huge gala for F1, where various other celebrities were invited to bring more attention to the sport. You’ve always been a fan, so you were glad to have the opportunity to meet a lot of the people you had admired for so many years. One of those people was Esteban Ocon. He was hated by his own community, regarded as one of the least likable people around, but you saw through that. This was a sweet guy with a bad reputation over one incident that took place many years ago. He was a bit surprised when you intentionally sat down beside him and introduced yourself with a huge smile and a delicate handshake. You were beautiful. It was almost too good to be true. He couldn’t let go of an opportunity like this, so he clung to you the entire night and asked if you’d be willing to see him again. Of course you would.
He supports your career through and through. He admires your skill, and all the thought that goes into modeling. It’s truly impressive. In turn, you support his racing career. You frequently feature his races, and while you do try to avoid the cameras, it’s impossible to not be featured when reacting on occasion. You have a loving dynamic— almost the perfect couple, and everyone in the paddock knows it. You’re the type of people to solve every disagreement by calmly talking it out. You’re the type of people to live by the rule “never go to bed angry.” You both get bad reps. In his community’s mind, Esteban is cruel and vicious and impossible to like. In your community’s mind, you’re stuck up and bossy and rude. So, together you make a perfectly misunderstood pair that understands one another. Delightful, right?
SUMMARY 𐙚 Danny seeks out a new tattoo artist: You! He keeps finding excuses to come visit you, and it’s obvious.
WARNINGS 𐙚 Fluff, suggestive jokes, partially written but primarily a smau
A/N 𐙚 Hi guys! Thank you sm for all the support :)
DIRECTORY | MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN
yourusername
📍 Tattoo Parlor
liked by friend1, friend2, danielricciardo, and 1.2K others
yourusername Finishing up work in the shop :) Made lots of progress today 🤘
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user1 Baddie
friend1 💍??
user2 She’s so pretty
user3 I’ve been here and the service is great 😍
yourusername Happy to be of service!
user4 Do you do piercings?
yourusername Our shop does, yes! I don’t do them myself though
→ user4 Great tysm!
user5 Five day drive. Should I go?
yourusername Absolutely 🔥
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danielricciardo
🎵 De La Soul • The Magic Number
liked by yourusername, lando, and 302K others
danielricciardo I got great service and a new tattoo 🔥
tagged tattoo.parlor, yourusername
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user1 This is so cute 🥹
user2 Ahh another tattoo to the collection!!
user3 OMG I’ve been there, my favorite artist is Y/N they’re soo sweet
yourusername That’s me!! Hope you’re healing up okay :)
user4 This is so fire
lando You know what’s even funnier than 3
danielricciardo 4!!!
user5 I miss him everyday
user6 So real
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For about the fourth time this week you found yourself looking up upon the chime of the door’s bell, only to see Danny wandering back into the shop. Your client gasped, trying to hold deathly still despite the excitement of witnessing a Formula One driver right in front of him. You pulled the tattoo gun away, sitting back in your chair.
“Welcome in, Danny,” You called out nonchalantly. Your client pushed themself up onto their forearms, hissing as their back scrunched up, applying a sting to the fresh tattoo. “I’ll be with you in just a sec.”
“Nah, take your time.” He sat himself in one of the lobby chairs, getting a few rather obvious stares from other clients who were waiting. You quickly finished up the piece you were working on, checked out your client, and then approached your newfound friend.
“What’re you in for this time?” You crossed your arms over your chest, giving him a pointed expression. Danny held his hands up, playing the role of innocent. “Oh, please.”
“Hey, is it a crime to visit a friend?”
“When they’re working, yeah.”
“Hey— I’m paying you!” You both laughed. Other patrons eyed you both, unsure of what to make of the interaction. It was weird to see some local artist such as yourself talking to a hit celebrity like Daniel Ricciardo.
“Seriously though, what do you want? Another touch up? Something new?” You walked away to take your gloves off, applying hand sanitizer afterwards. It was important to keep the place clean and hygienic. People already trusted you with their skin, letting you apply something permanent. It would be rude if you got them sick while you were at it.
He trailed after you like a lost animal, leaning up against the counter next to you. He’d been there about six times now, and he was already acting like you owned the place. Of course, you didn’t mind, but it was always entertaining to watch someone become so familiar with your little shop.
“Nah,” He looked around like he was stalling for time, huffing a sigh. You raised your brow and tilted your head. “I just wanted to know if you’d accompany me on a date. Nothing too fancy.”
You raised your brows with amusement, a little smile decorating your lips. The same lips he had been nonstop staring at, because they were so plump and pretty and he just wanted to steal a kiss away from you immediately. “Yeah?” Oh and that voice of yours. Smooth like honey, and absolutely beautiful. “What if I want fancy?”
“Then you’ll get fancy,” Danny replied as if he was willing to give you anything you wanted. It was instantaneous. He didn’t even need to think about it.
“No,” You lightly smacked his chest. “I’d love to go on a date with you, but you’re right. Fancy’s not my thing.” He grinned. You could tell he had managed to keep his cool, but you could also sense the relief flooding him at your positive response. As if you’d say no. “7pm Saturday. Don’t be late.”
He didn’t even get to reply before you were leading another client back to the chair. He watched you walk away, stunned by your confidence. He watched knowing that he picked the right person…
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yourusername
🎵 Eagles • Hotel California - 2013 Remaster
liked by danielricciardo, lando, friend1, and 12.3K others
yourusername Don’t be jealous but 💋
tagged danielricciardo
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user1 We used to pray for times like these
user2 Hottest couple ever
danielricciardo 🤤🤤🤤
yourusername Who are you drooling over? 🤨
→ danielricciardo Uhhh… you ofc!! 😥
ー→ yourusername Good boy 😏
ーー→ lando EWWW
lando I’m so jealous of you 😖
yourusername We can share him
→ user3 They’re so funny I love them
user4 Gorgeous beautiful radiant princess… Oh and Y/N too
yourusername I get it. He’s such a princess
danielricciardo Come over here and kiss me on my hot mouth
I have a request: if you'd like to could you write a GR53/reader where reader is POC and George is helping to take down her/their braids for the first time? And just some general fluffiness?
Ik it's like super niche and stuff ans if you don't want to that's totally fine, but I'd love to see it!
Thank you byeeee :)
-💜
I AM ONLY A POEM
IN THE BODY OF A HUMAN.
LET YOUR HAIR DOWN
George Russell X Reader
SUMMARY 𐙚 George helps you take your braids down for the first time :)
WARNINGS 𐙚 Intended for a black reader, and overall pure fluff!
WORD COUNT 𐙚 809
A/N 𐙚 I love this trope IDC. It’s so cute, I will happily write this. Also tysm!! I love decorating my posts :) Love ♥︎ Cher
DIRECTORY | MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN
It didn’t matter how many times in your life you did this, you always struggled. It was the same process: Cutting off the extensions, unraveling the braids, and detangling your hair. The last step was probably the easiest, and even then it was no walk in the park. Doing your own hair was a lot more difficult than working on someone else’s.
You were sat in front of your vanity, snipping the braids right beneath where your natural hair ended and faded into dyed extensions. You had to be very delicate and sensitive so that you don’t end up cutting off chunks of your real hair, which is why you have to focus for each and every individual braid. You’re roughly five in, and you already feel tired of the process.
When you saw the door slowly creak open from the view of your mirror, you perked up to peek over your shoulder. George met you with a smile, and then froze in his tracks… “What are you doing?” He inquired softly, his head tilted. He was like a confused dog.
“I’m taking my braids out. They’re starting to hurt.” They’ve been in for so long, and they were always just a tad bit too tight, which caused strain on your scalp. George stepped up to you from behind, gently resting his hands on your shoulders. “It’s not a very fun process,” You laughed weakly, which led into a joking, fake cry.
He ran a hand through your braids, fingers gliding right through the bunches of hair. George met your eyes in the mirror, and when he saw your weak smile, something seemed to click in his mind.
“Can I help?”
Well, that wasn’t really expected. You turned to face him head on. “Do you even know how?”
“No, but if you talk me through it I can do all the work.” George kissed your forehead. Obviously you somewhat doubted his abilities in this regard, but you really needed the help, and you could tell he was eager to please. So, with much reluctance, you handed him the scissors.
“See where the hair fades into color?” He nodded at your question, grabbing one braid near your face for reference. “Cut just a little below that. I like to cut them all, and then unravel them.” George nodded, and he got to work.
He worked diligently, listening to your soft rambling and chatter with a look of focus. His replies were short, because he couldn’t afford to focus on anything else. He set the extensions aside, smiling with satisfaction when he managed to cut the last one.
“Okay, now is the really tedious part…” You grabbed one cut braid, slowly unraveling the small pieces of hair. “You have to do this… To all of them.”
George sighed and stepped back to look at the work ahead of him, but he carried on. He undid each braid one by one, letting your natural hair spring out in its free form. It was slightly frizzy, but thankfully the breakage was minimal. As he went along, you started to spritz it with dry shampoo and water to moisten the textured hair.
This was the longest process of all. His hands were just slightly too big for some of the braids, and he found himself unintentionally knotting some of the hair. You reassured him it would be fine, and that it wasn’t a big deal… Even if it was somewhat annoying. He was trying so hard and you couldn’t bring yourself to be upset with him.
“There.” He looked at you in the mirror, his hands on your shoulders. “Your natural hair is just as beautiful.” You grin at his compliment- it’s not something you hear often. Braids are always beloved, and it makes your unstyled hair look bland. Based on the look in his eyes you could tell he was being 100% sincere.
“Thank you, George.” You handed him a comb. He accepted it, but just sort of… Stared with confusion. “If you brush it, it’ll get frizzy.” You explained. “I already got it damp, so just gently comb through any knots.” That he did.
Afterwards, George’s slender fingers found your scalp. He gently massaged the surface, scratching at the sore spots. You couldn’t help but close your eyes and hum with delight. It was relaxing to have the ache treated with such tenderness. “Thank you, George, my love,” You whispered, leaning back against him.
He looked at you with delicate eyes, his lips twisting up into a smile. Pretty. You were so damn pretty no matter what. “Of course, anytime. Hopefully I’ll get better at it,” He tilted your head back, kissing you on the lips in an upside down fashion. You giggled.
“Well, you’re already better than me, so that’s a good start.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” He was flattered nonetheless.
