Hello! My name is Emily, I'm 20-something (but who's counting), and I have been on Tumblr for way longer than I should admit. I am a writer, a passionate history lover, a dedicated full time [and only kind of delusional] George Russell enthusiast, and an avid defender of both Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri.
I DO NOT DO PART TWOS UNLESS SPECIFIED IN MY A/N.
Please do not ask for part twos unless it is actually paired with a thoughtful, polite, and genuine comment on my original. Please appreciate the original fic properly before demanding more. I am not a machine.
MY BLOG IS A 'WAG FREE ZONE'. PLEASE RESPECT THIS.
I will not be posting, reblogging, or talking about any current or past partners of the drivers, including answering asks that mention their names.
The only exception are the Lilies. Don't ask questions.
Current WIPs:
The Braking Point [GR63, Single Parent Karting Fic]
Members Only [GR63, Adult Film Star AU (m/m & m/f)]
The Way It Goes 𩵠[GR63, Slice of Life Blurbs]
Š None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced, reposted, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including reuploading, photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Here for my Why Don't We Era? â Daniel Seavey Masterlist
âł Series Summary:Â As a single mother, Josefine is used to doing everything on her own. Leaving everything behind to chase her son's karting dreams in England, she dedicated herself wholeheartedly to pushing him through the ranks, no matter the cost...even if it takes everything from her in the process. She knows that nothing is guaranteed and trust isn't easily won, and yet she comes to learn that the biggest lessons may not be found on the track but, rather, in the form of a retired Formula 1 driver and his daughter.
âł Pairings:Â SingleDad!KartingCoach!George Russell x Single Mom!OC
âł Chapter Word Count:Â 2666
Josefine stared after where George and Ivy had disappeared like this wasnât real. Like Henrik hadnât just spilled Georgeâs biggest secret to his unsuspecting daughter in a fit of anger. Like George hadnât looked at her like she had committed the ultimate betrayal. Like they werenât now standing in the echoing silence of realization that pressed down agonizingly onto her shoulders until it felt as though her knees were about to buckle underneath her.Â
In the distance, the karts still on track roared through the summer breeze through the final lap of the race. Josefine barely heard them. Instead, it was Henrikâs shuddering inhale that caught her attention. She turned her attention onto her son instead, torn back to reality by the sound of his breath.Â
He, too, was staring after where George and Ivy had gone, eyes shimmering with unshed tears and his youthful face stricken in horror. It had been incredibly unlike him to have an outburst like that, to say such things. Even he, too, was stunned by what he had said and the capabilities of his own words. He had been in a pressure cooker for weeks, Josefine knew there was going to eventually be a moment where he would explode. She just never anticipated it would be like this.Â
âHenrikâŚâ she started, cautious and tentative.Â
âMamma.â Henrik exhaled, his words quivering, eyes still fixed on the direction of the parking lot. When he blinked, a tear dripped down his cheek. His inhale was ragged, âMamma, I didnât mean toââ
âCome on,â she set a firm hand on his shoulder and turned him away from the direction of the parking lot to steer him into the tent.
There was nothing more to say. Not here. Not like this. They had to go home before they made everything worse.
Josefine barely remembered packing up that day. All she could recall was that she was shaking so badly that it was hard to zip up their bag. Henrik was no help; he had sat himself on a chair in the corner and held his face in his hands as if he were trying to will himself from existence.Â
Josefine couldnât deny that she was incredibly upset with him; but, even more than that, she was upset with herself for having trusted her ten-year-old with such a secret. How could she have been so foolish? What had she done? Oh, she felt sick to her stomach.
The mechanics were none the wiserâalthough they could tell something happened, just not exactly whatâand they politely helped her pack up like it was any other Sunday. She couldnât meet their eyes, couldnât properly formulate a response. Her fight or flight was in full swing and all she wanted to do was flee. It was not the right time for any more of a fight. They had done enough damage. She knew the last person George was going to want to see when they inevitably returned to the tent was her.Â
Once they were in the car and back on the M1 towards home, once it was just the two of them, Henrik crumbled into his guilt. It started with a choked back sob that he smothered against his hand as he stared out the passenger side window, as if it were all bubbling up out of him all at once. And it just overtook him. He was in tears the whole drive home and if Josefine wasnât so in shock over everything, she would have been too.Â
âI-Iâm sorry!â Henrik stumbled out, his words gasping and jagged through his tears.Â
âShhâŚjust breatheâŚâ she soothed the best she could, reaching out a hand to set upon his leg in some feeble attempt to calm him. How could she calm her son when she, too, was on the brink of breaking down?Â
It broke her heart to hear her son so distressed and yet all she could think about was how George was likely thinking the same about his daughter at that moment. Josefine swallowed back the bile in her throat and kept her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. As much as she wanted to jump headfirst into fixing this, she knew she had to tread carefully. There were so many variables now, so many peopleâthe children most importantly.Â
And Henrik. Who didnât deserve to have that secret laid upon him at only ten-years-old. Josefine bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.Â
When they finally arrived back at their apartment, Josefine helped to usher Henrik upstairs. His shuddering sobs echoed in the stairwell. In any other situation, she might have worried what the neighbours thought. Instead, her focus was on getting him inside.Â
The door was unlocked with trembling hands and Henrik toes off his shoes and left them strewn haphazardly across the foyer. Josefineâthis one timeâdidnât correct him on it. Instead, she slipped his backpack off his shoulders and quietly instructed him to go wash his hands. She just needed a few seconds to figure out what the hell she was going to do next.Â
With Henrikâs crying coming from the bathroom behind the rush of the faucet, Josefine took out her phone with trembling hands. It had been long enough that a text wouldnât appear too pushy; but not too long where it would come across like she didnât care. She had to make it known she was sorry. Whether George accepted it or not would be another story.Â
The blinking line taunted her as she stared at their text thread. Any words she tried to formulate didnât feel at all sufficient. Nothing felt right. She typed and deleted and re-typed, trying to put together a string of words that made even a fraction of sense. Coaching her clients on how to own up and apologize seemed easy from behind the desk. Here, now, with her being the one in need of taking ownership, it felt incredibly daunting.Â
When she heard the sound of the bathroom faucet turn off, she forced herself to send whatever she had last typed; something was better than nothing. Staring at it any longer wouldnât miraculously change things.Â
J: I am so sorry, George. I should have handled things differently. I understand if you need spaceâŚjust know Iâm here whenever youâre ready to talk.
âMamma?âÂ
Josefine immediately tucked her phone away and looked up at the sound of her sonâs broken voice. Henrik was standing in the entryway to the living room, still in his racesuit tied around his waist and his hands wrung together in front of him, cheeks flushed and eyes red-rimmed. The only thing she had to do was hold out her arms and he scurried over to curl himself against her chest. She cradled the back of his head with a comforting hand, holding him close, letting him burrow himself in her shirt.Â
âShh,â she consoled him softly, her other hand rubbing soothingly across his back, âtake a deep breath, my boy.â
Henrik hiccuped through his tears, his hands clutching the back of her shirt as he struggled to get his words out. Oh, it broke her heart to see him like that. It broke her heart to think that all of these dominoes fell because of her decision.Â
Josefine leaned away from his embrace just enough to wipe the tears from his cheeks with the pad of her thumb, breathing deeply to try and get him to follow along with her. Despite how hard it was for the little boy to try and calm himself down, Henrik soon tried to mirror her, pulling in air before letting it all out in trembling exhales.Â
Finally, he managed to speak, âI-I didnât mean to say it. It just came out.â
âI know,â Josefine mumbled, wiping his cheek once more.
Looking to the living room carpet with a frown, Henrik muttered sharply, âI wish I didnât say anything. I wish I kept my stupid big mouth shut.â
âHey, now,â she tutted, âDo not speak so harshly about yourself. You made a mistake but you are not stupid.â
Henrik curled into her chest again, wrapping his arms around her middle, and Josefine dropped a kiss to the top of his head.Â
âYou are a boyâyou are going to make many mistakes, and say many things you wish you could take back in your life, hm?â she spoke softly to him.
âI donât want him to hate me.â
His words were so quiet, muffled into the fabric of her shirt over her chest where his face was buried, that she almost didnât catch it. But she did. And, God, she wished she could have reassured him that it wasnât the case and that George could never hate him; but how was she to know? Emotions were still raw, the situation was dire, and she could still see the way he looked at her like she had committed the ultimate betrayal every time she blinked.
Finally, she found her words carefully, âGeorge could not hate you, Henrik. He may be upset but I cannot imagine that he would hate you.â
Henrik didnât answer, simply keeping himself nuzzled into her chest. She hesitated, her fingers brushing gently through his hair, somehow a way to soothe not only him but herself as well.
All she could think about was that night when she told Henrik about Georgeâs secret; how he had been so upset and forlorn, how she was only trying to comfort him. She hadnât meant to tell him the secret maliciously, but rather to express that not all families are born. To explain that George is more than capable of loving a child who was not from his DNA. To explain that Henrik wasnât less than because he didnât have a biological dad in his life.Â
Looking back, she could see now how misguided she wasâŚhow wrong. She always prided herself on how carefully she treaded, how particularly she chose her wordsâsomething so important in her line of work. Yet, here she was, facing the consequences of her mistakes she couldnât imagine making, facing the consequences of breaking Georgeâs trust in such a blatant and snide way.
With her son in her arms, Josefine confessed to him softly, âAnd I made a mistake too. I should not have told you something like that. You were not meant to carry it. I am sorry for putting the weight of it onto you.â
âBut I still said it. Me.â
âYou do not need me to tell you that it was not nice of you to say what you said. That it was not your right to tell Ivy what you did. It is clear you know very well that what you did was not kind.â
Henrik sniffled and pulled back again to look up at her, his words tumbling out desperately, âSheâs not kind to me all the time! I justâŚI just thought thatâŚI couldnât hear one more second of itâŚit was the first thing that I thought ofâŚI didnât mean to!â
âI know, I knowâŚshhâŚâ Josefine murmured, wiping his cheeks again as more heavy tears dripped from the corners of his eyes and he curled back into her, âI could see how it was all simmering under the surface in you. You are such a kind boy that you never pushed back until it all bubbled up inside you and just exploded, ja?â
Henrik nodded into her chest and gripped tighter onto her shirt.
âYou have to learn how to speak up when someone is upsetting you so it does not bubble up like that. You tell them right away.â
Henrik sniffled, âDo youâŚthink sheâs really upset?â
Josefine sighed, âYesâŚI think she is.â
Henrikâs arms tightened around her and she pressed another kiss to the top of his head.
âWe will figure it out,â she murmured, âOne step at a time, ja?â
He didnât answer, but she felt him nod.
Neither of them particularly wanted to stomach eating dinner but they knew they had to; they shared a can of soup and a sleeve of crackers and Henrik finished it with a glass of milk. Neither of them looked at Georgeâs poster on his bedroom wall as Josefine tucked him into bed. In the pitch black room, Josefine stayed with her son as he fell asleep, finding peace in the sound of his breathing.Â
If it wasnât for the way her mind was reeling or the sickening guilt that was still eating her from the inside out, she might have fallen asleep right there beside him. Instead, she eventually tiptoed out of his bedroom, closed the door behind her with a soft creak, and collapsed onto the couch with an exasperated sigh. The sun had just set and it had felt like the longest evening of her entire life.Â
When she picked up her phone, she found that her text to George had been read three hours earlier and left unanswered. Something unsettling churned in her stomach.Â
The last thing she wanted was to hound him while he was dealing with something so big, so she distracted herself with the televisionâsome boring talk show she barely registered. She hadnât even bothered to turn the lights on, leaving her in only the illumination of the moon through the open curtains and the flickering light of the television.Â
By almost ten oâclock, her phone rang.Â
The sight of Georgeâs name flashing across her screen had her heart in her throat. Without giving herself a second to overthink, she grabbed her phone and answered it.
âGeorgeââ she barely managed to croak out. She cleared her throat.
âHello, Josefine.â
The coldness in his tone made her shiver and she slowly eased back into the comfort of the sofa, cowering under the weight of her mistake.Â
âHow, uhâŚis everythingâŚare you holding upâŚâ her words felt too big for her mouth, trying and failing to sound normal; just the right amount of compassionate and remorseful without coming on too strong.Â
George didnât seem to want to bother with the small talk. In all honesty, it was clear he didnât seem like he wanted to talk to her at all. Instead, the reason for his call made itself clear to her with ease as his next words came bluntly, âI wanted to call as I have made the tough decision to forfeit the sponsorship agreement, effective immediately.â
Josefine pressed a trembling hand to her lips and forced herself to swallow back the bile that was working its way up her throat. She had known she had made a grave mistakeâthat she would be owning up for it for the foreseeable futureâbut this?Â
âOh, God, George, please. We are so sorry. I am so sorry. I take full accountability for betraying your trust the way I did. Please, do not take it out on Henrik. Please.â
Her pleas fell on deaf ears. It was clear he had made up his mind.
âMy daughter is my priority, Josefine. She is my priority over everything else, and right now, I have to protect her and deal with the damage you and your son have caused.â
âGeorgeââ
âYou nearly destroyed my family. The trust my child has in me. That is irreversible. Henrik will not be racing with us for the remainder of the season.â
âThere are only two races leftâŚâ
His reply came in expert calm, dripping in that well-practiced PR training prose, âI wish Henrik the best of luck for the remainder of the season.â
Josefine couldnât find her voice. She couldnât find her breath. She knew that anything she said would be a mute point. It was very clear by the tone of Georgeâs voice that his mind had been made up and there was no way to change it. The damage was done.Â
He had the last word with a simple, âGood night.â
And then the dial tone groaned in her ear in the darkness of the living room. On the television talk show, the studio audience laughed.Â
⥠Enjoying my content? Support my writing here :)
⥠None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced, reposted, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
yknow how some museums will have replicas of artifacts for you to touch? they should do that but with things i can put in my mouth. like little candies shaped like roman coins or potsherds or bits of egyptian glass or what have you. let me eat the artifacts. let me in. let me innnnnnn
âł Series Summary:Â As a single mother, Josefine is used to doing everything on her own. Leaving everything behind to chase her son's karting dreams in England, she dedicated herself wholeheartedly to pushing him through the ranks, no matter the cost...even if it takes everything from her in the process. She knows that nothing is guaranteed and trust isn't easily won, and yet she comes to learn that the biggest lessons may not be found on the track but, rather, in the form of a retired Formula 1 driver and his daughter.
âł Pairings:Â SingleDad!KartingCoach!George Russell x Single Mom!OC
âł Chapter Word Count:Â 2666
Josefine stared after where George and Ivy had disappeared like this wasnât real. Like Henrik hadnât just spilled Georgeâs biggest secret to his unsuspecting daughter in a fit of anger. Like George hadnât looked at her like she had committed the ultimate betrayal. Like they werenât now standing in the echoing silence of realization that pressed down agonizingly onto her shoulders until it felt as though her knees were about to buckle underneath her.Â
In the distance, the karts still on track roared through the summer breeze through the final lap of the race. Josefine barely heard them. Instead, it was Henrikâs shuddering inhale that caught her attention. She turned her attention onto her son instead, torn back to reality by the sound of his breath.Â
He, too, was staring after where George and Ivy had gone, eyes shimmering with unshed tears and his youthful face stricken in horror. It had been incredibly unlike him to have an outburst like that, to say such things. Even he, too, was stunned by what he had said and the capabilities of his own words. He had been in a pressure cooker for weeks, Josefine knew there was going to eventually be a moment where he would explode. She just never anticipated it would be like this.Â
âHenrikâŚâ she started, cautious and tentative.Â
âMamma.â Henrik exhaled, his words quivering, eyes still fixed on the direction of the parking lot. When he blinked, a tear dripped down his cheek. His inhale was ragged, âMamma, I didnât mean toââ
âCome on,â she set a firm hand on his shoulder and turned him away from the direction of the parking lot to steer him into the tent.
There was nothing more to say. Not here. Not like this. They had to go home before they made everything worse.
Josefine barely remembered packing up that day. All she could recall was that she was shaking so badly that it was hard to zip up their bag. Henrik was no help; he had sat himself on a chair in the corner and held his face in his hands as if he were trying to will himself from existence.Â
Josefine couldnât deny that she was incredibly upset with him; but, even more than that, she was upset with herself for having trusted her ten-year-old with such a secret. How could she have been so foolish? What had she done? Oh, she felt sick to her stomach.
The mechanics were none the wiserâalthough they could tell something happened, just not exactly whatâand they politely helped her pack up like it was any other Sunday. She couldnât meet their eyes, couldnât properly formulate a response. Her fight or flight was in full swing and all she wanted to do was flee. It was not the right time for any more of a fight. They had done enough damage. She knew the last person George was going to want to see when they inevitably returned to the tent was her.Â
Once they were in the car and back on the M1 towards home, once it was just the two of them, Henrik crumbled into his guilt. It started with a choked back sob that he smothered against his hand as he stared out the passenger side window, as if it were all bubbling up out of him all at once. And it just overtook him. He was in tears the whole drive home and if Josefine wasnât so in shock over everything, she would have been too.Â
âI-Iâm sorry!â Henrik stumbled out, his words gasping and jagged through his tears.Â
âShhâŚjust breatheâŚâ she soothed the best she could, reaching out a hand to set upon his leg in some feeble attempt to calm him. How could she calm her son when she, too, was on the brink of breaking down?Â
It broke her heart to hear her son so distressed and yet all she could think about was how George was likely thinking the same about his daughter at that moment. Josefine swallowed back the bile in her throat and kept her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. As much as she wanted to jump headfirst into fixing this, she knew she had to tread carefully. There were so many variables now, so many peopleâthe children most importantly.Â
And Henrik. Who didnât deserve to have that secret laid upon him at only ten-years-old. Josefine bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.Â
When they finally arrived back at their apartment, Josefine helped to usher Henrik upstairs. His shuddering sobs echoed in the stairwell. In any other situation, she might have worried what the neighbours thought. Instead, her focus was on getting him inside.Â
The door was unlocked with trembling hands and Henrik toes off his shoes and left them strewn haphazardly across the foyer. Josefineâthis one timeâdidnât correct him on it. Instead, she slipped his backpack off his shoulders and quietly instructed him to go wash his hands. She just needed a few seconds to figure out what the hell she was going to do next.Â
With Henrikâs crying coming from the bathroom behind the rush of the faucet, Josefine took out her phone with trembling hands. It had been long enough that a text wouldnât appear too pushy; but not too long where it would come across like she didnât care. She had to make it known she was sorry. Whether George accepted it or not would be another story.Â
The blinking line taunted her as she stared at their text thread. Any words she tried to formulate didnât feel at all sufficient. Nothing felt right. She typed and deleted and re-typed, trying to put together a string of words that made even a fraction of sense. Coaching her clients on how to own up and apologize seemed easy from behind the desk. Here, now, with her being the one in need of taking ownership, it felt incredibly daunting.Â
When she heard the sound of the bathroom faucet turn off, she forced herself to send whatever she had last typed; something was better than nothing. Staring at it any longer wouldnât miraculously change things.Â
J: I am so sorry, George. I should have handled things differently. I understand if you need spaceâŚjust know Iâm here whenever youâre ready to talk.
âMamma?âÂ
Josefine immediately tucked her phone away and looked up at the sound of her sonâs broken voice. Henrik was standing in the entryway to the living room, still in his racesuit tied around his waist and his hands wrung together in front of him, cheeks flushed and eyes red-rimmed. The only thing she had to do was hold out her arms and he scurried over to curl himself against her chest. She cradled the back of his head with a comforting hand, holding him close, letting him burrow himself in her shirt.Â
âShh,â she consoled him softly, her other hand rubbing soothingly across his back, âtake a deep breath, my boy.â
Henrik hiccuped through his tears, his hands clutching the back of her shirt as he struggled to get his words out. Oh, it broke her heart to see him like that. It broke her heart to think that all of these dominoes fell because of her decision.Â
Josefine leaned away from his embrace just enough to wipe the tears from his cheeks with the pad of her thumb, breathing deeply to try and get him to follow along with her. Despite how hard it was for the little boy to try and calm himself down, Henrik soon tried to mirror her, pulling in air before letting it all out in trembling exhales.Â
Finally, he managed to speak, âI-I didnât mean to say it. It just came out.â
âI know,â Josefine mumbled, wiping his cheek once more.
Looking to the living room carpet with a frown, Henrik muttered sharply, âI wish I didnât say anything. I wish I kept my stupid big mouth shut.â
âHey, now,â she tutted, âDo not speak so harshly about yourself. You made a mistake but you are not stupid.â
Henrik curled into her chest again, wrapping his arms around her middle, and Josefine dropped a kiss to the top of his head.Â
âYou are a boyâyou are going to make many mistakes, and say many things you wish you could take back in your life, hm?â she spoke softly to him.
âI donât want him to hate me.â
His words were so quiet, muffled into the fabric of her shirt over her chest where his face was buried, that she almost didnât catch it. But she did. And, God, she wished she could have reassured him that it wasnât the case and that George could never hate him; but how was she to know? Emotions were still raw, the situation was dire, and she could still see the way he looked at her like she had committed the ultimate betrayal every time she blinked.
Finally, she found her words carefully, âGeorge could not hate you, Henrik. He may be upset but I cannot imagine that he would hate you.â
Henrik didnât answer, simply keeping himself nuzzled into her chest. She hesitated, her fingers brushing gently through his hair, somehow a way to soothe not only him but herself as well.
All she could think about was that night when she told Henrik about Georgeâs secret; how he had been so upset and forlorn, how she was only trying to comfort him. She hadnât meant to tell him the secret maliciously, but rather to express that not all families are born. To explain that George is more than capable of loving a child who was not from his DNA. To explain that Henrik wasnât less than because he didnât have a biological dad in his life.Â
Looking back, she could see now how misguided she wasâŚhow wrong. She always prided herself on how carefully she treaded, how particularly she chose her wordsâsomething so important in her line of work. Yet, here she was, facing the consequences of her mistakes she couldnât imagine making, facing the consequences of breaking Georgeâs trust in such a blatant and snide way.
With her son in her arms, Josefine confessed to him softly, âAnd I made a mistake too. I should not have told you something like that. You were not meant to carry it. I am sorry for putting the weight of it onto you.â
âBut I still said it. Me.â
âYou do not need me to tell you that it was not nice of you to say what you said. That it was not your right to tell Ivy what you did. It is clear you know very well that what you did was not kind.â
Henrik sniffled and pulled back again to look up at her, his words tumbling out desperately, âSheâs not kind to me all the time! I justâŚI just thought thatâŚI couldnât hear one more second of itâŚit was the first thing that I thought ofâŚI didnât mean to!â
âI know, I knowâŚshhâŚâ Josefine murmured, wiping his cheeks again as more heavy tears dripped from the corners of his eyes and he curled back into her, âI could see how it was all simmering under the surface in you. You are such a kind boy that you never pushed back until it all bubbled up inside you and just exploded, ja?â
Henrik nodded into her chest and gripped tighter onto her shirt.
âYou have to learn how to speak up when someone is upsetting you so it does not bubble up like that. You tell them right away.â
Henrik sniffled, âDo youâŚthink sheâs really upset?â
Josefine sighed, âYesâŚI think she is.â
Henrikâs arms tightened around her and she pressed another kiss to the top of his head.
âWe will figure it out,â she murmured, âOne step at a time, ja?â
He didnât answer, but she felt him nod.
Neither of them particularly wanted to stomach eating dinner but they knew they had to; they shared a can of soup and a sleeve of crackers and Henrik finished it with a glass of milk. Neither of them looked at Georgeâs poster on his bedroom wall as Josefine tucked him into bed. In the pitch black room, Josefine stayed with her son as he fell asleep, finding peace in the sound of his breathing.Â
If it wasnât for the way her mind was reeling or the sickening guilt that was still eating her from the inside out, she might have fallen asleep right there beside him. Instead, she eventually tiptoed out of his bedroom, closed the door behind her with a soft creak, and collapsed onto the couch with an exasperated sigh. The sun had just set and it had felt like the longest evening of her entire life.Â
When she picked up her phone, she found that her text to George had been read three hours earlier and left unanswered. Something unsettling churned in her stomach.Â
The last thing she wanted was to hound him while he was dealing with something so big, so she distracted herself with the televisionâsome boring talk show she barely registered. She hadnât even bothered to turn the lights on, leaving her in only the illumination of the moon through the open curtains and the flickering light of the television.Â
By almost ten oâclock, her phone rang.Â
The sight of Georgeâs name flashing across her screen had her heart in her throat. Without giving herself a second to overthink, she grabbed her phone and answered it.
âGeorgeââ she barely managed to croak out. She cleared her throat.
âHello, Josefine.â
The coldness in his tone made her shiver and she slowly eased back into the comfort of the sofa, cowering under the weight of her mistake.Â
âHow, uhâŚis everythingâŚare you holding upâŚâ her words felt too big for her mouth, trying and failing to sound normal; just the right amount of compassionate and remorseful without coming on too strong.Â
George didnât seem to want to bother with the small talk. In all honesty, it was clear he didnât seem like he wanted to talk to her at all. Instead, the reason for his call made itself clear to her with ease as his next words came bluntly, âI wanted to call as I have made the tough decision to forfeit the sponsorship agreement, effective immediately.â
Josefine pressed a trembling hand to her lips and forced herself to swallow back the bile that was working its way up her throat. She had known she had made a grave mistakeâthat she would be owning up for it for the foreseeable futureâbut this?Â
âOh, God, George, please. We are so sorry. I am so sorry. I take full accountability for betraying your trust the way I did. Please, do not take it out on Henrik. Please.â
Her pleas fell on deaf ears. It was clear he had made up his mind.
âMy daughter is my priority, Josefine. She is my priority over everything else, and right now, I have to protect her and deal with the damage you and your son have caused.â
âGeorgeââ
âYou nearly destroyed my family. The trust my child has in me. That is irreversible. Henrik will not be racing with us for the remainder of the season.â
âThere are only two races leftâŚâ
His reply came in expert calm, dripping in that well-practiced PR training prose, âI wish Henrik the best of luck for the remainder of the season.â
Josefine couldnât find her voice. She couldnât find her breath. She knew that anything she said would be a mute point. It was very clear by the tone of Georgeâs voice that his mind had been made up and there was no way to change it. The damage was done.Â
He had the last word with a simple, âGood night.â
And then the dial tone groaned in her ear in the darkness of the living room. On the television talk show, the studio audience laughed.Â
⥠Enjoying my content? Support my writing here :)
⥠None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced, reposted, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Oh I can't wait for Friday!! I'm flying that day so I hope either 1. You post before I get on the plane, or 2. I have wifi so I can aggressively refresh your feed while waiting for the upload.
Ahh! What time are you flying, if you want to share? I can see if I can post before takeoff so you have some in-flight entertainment hehe
Last The Braking Point chapter!!! I feel so sorry for Henrik that I can't even bring myself to be angry at all the mess he's created. I can't even imagine how he'll feel after find out George is not his sponsor anymore. How can Josefine will handle everything now?? It's so sad that just one momentary mistake of hers lead all this.
But also so sorry for George and Ivy. I can't imagine being Iyv's shoes. Poor girl must be feel betrayed. And also George. He had trusted someone after ages and now look how it ended up for him. This chapter is broke my heart for all of them.
Despite all the heartbreak I felt for them as if they're my real friends, you ate as always, Em. Now I need a time machine or whatever will help me go to the future. I can't wait for Friday to arrive!!!
Absolutely made my whole week/month/life with this message, thank you!!! I loveee messages like this <3
I literally loved writing this fic because of the sole reason of each 'side' having such valid reasons and feelings and the fact that you can't easily 'take a side'. Like Henrik just making a kid mistake and his obvious regret and guilt with Josefine's constant attempts at just trying to do the right thing all the time and ending up costing them so much...to Ivy being so misunderstood in her own way and not knowing how to communicate her feelings and especially to George who also is trying to do the right thing all the time in his own way.
And I LOVE when you said "I felt for them as if they're my real friends" because that is sooo the goal!! That is the goal with OC fics! They're not the 'flat' x-reader where it's supposed to be you, but you find your comfort and connection with the characters through a type of 'friendship' almost. And I think that's so beautiful. And I'm very glad that you feel that way :')
(+ Friday's chapter is another extension chapter...and its a big one đ)
âł Series Summary:Â As a single mother, Josefine is used to doing everything on her own. Leaving everything behind to chase her son's karting dreams in England, she dedicated herself wholeheartedly to pushing him through the ranks, no matter the cost...even if it takes everything from her in the process. She knows that nothing is guaranteed and trust isn't easily won, and yet she comes to learn that the biggest lessons may not be found on the track but, rather, in the form of a retired Formula 1 driver and his daughter.
âł Pairings:Â SingleDad!KartingCoach!George Russell x Single Mom!OC
âł Chapter Word Count:Â 2666
Josefine stared after where George and Ivy had disappeared like this wasnât real. Like Henrik hadnât just spilled Georgeâs biggest secret to his unsuspecting daughter in a fit of anger. Like George hadnât looked at her like she had committed the ultimate betrayal. Like they werenât now standing in the echoing silence of realization that pressed down agonizingly onto her shoulders until it felt as though her knees were about to buckle underneath her.Â
In the distance, the karts still on track roared through the summer breeze through the final lap of the race. Josefine barely heard them. Instead, it was Henrikâs shuddering inhale that caught her attention. She turned her attention onto her son instead, torn back to reality by the sound of his breath.Â
He, too, was staring after where George and Ivy had gone, eyes shimmering with unshed tears and his youthful face stricken in horror. It had been incredibly unlike him to have an outburst like that, to say such things. Even he, too, was stunned by what he had said and the capabilities of his own words. He had been in a pressure cooker for weeks, Josefine knew there was going to eventually be a moment where he would explode. She just never anticipated it would be like this.Â
âHenrikâŚâ she started, cautious and tentative.Â
âMamma.â Henrik exhaled, his words quivering, eyes still fixed on the direction of the parking lot. When he blinked, a tear dripped down his cheek. His inhale was ragged, âMamma, I didnât mean toââ
âCome on,â she set a firm hand on his shoulder and turned him away from the direction of the parking lot to steer him into the tent.
There was nothing more to say. Not here. Not like this. They had to go home before they made everything worse.
Josefine barely remembered packing up that day. All she could recall was that she was shaking so badly that it was hard to zip up their bag. Henrik was no help; he had sat himself on a chair in the corner and held his face in his hands as if he were trying to will himself from existence.Â
Josefine couldnât deny that she was incredibly upset with him; but, even more than that, she was upset with herself for having trusted her ten-year-old with such a secret. How could she have been so foolish? What had she done? Oh, she felt sick to her stomach.
The mechanics were none the wiserâalthough they could tell something happened, just not exactly whatâand they politely helped her pack up like it was any other Sunday. She couldnât meet their eyes, couldnât properly formulate a response. Her fight or flight was in full swing and all she wanted to do was flee. It was not the right time for any more of a fight. They had done enough damage. She knew the last person George was going to want to see when they inevitably returned to the tent was her.Â
Once they were in the car and back on the M1 towards home, once it was just the two of them, Henrik crumbled into his guilt. It started with a choked back sob that he smothered against his hand as he stared out the passenger side window, as if it were all bubbling up out of him all at once. And it just overtook him. He was in tears the whole drive home and if Josefine wasnât so in shock over everything, she would have been too.Â
âI-Iâm sorry!â Henrik stumbled out, his words gasping and jagged through his tears.Â
âShhâŚjust breatheâŚâ she soothed the best she could, reaching out a hand to set upon his leg in some feeble attempt to calm him. How could she calm her son when she, too, was on the brink of breaking down?Â
It broke her heart to hear her son so distressed and yet all she could think about was how George was likely thinking the same about his daughter at that moment. Josefine swallowed back the bile in her throat and kept her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. As much as she wanted to jump headfirst into fixing this, she knew she had to tread carefully. There were so many variables now, so many peopleâthe children most importantly.Â
And Henrik. Who didnât deserve to have that secret laid upon him at only ten-years-old. Josefine bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.Â
When they finally arrived back at their apartment, Josefine helped to usher Henrik upstairs. His shuddering sobs echoed in the stairwell. In any other situation, she might have worried what the neighbours thought. Instead, her focus was on getting him inside.Â
The door was unlocked with trembling hands and Henrik toes off his shoes and left them strewn haphazardly across the foyer. Josefineâthis one timeâdidnât correct him on it. Instead, she slipped his backpack off his shoulders and quietly instructed him to go wash his hands. She just needed a few seconds to figure out what the hell she was going to do next.Â
With Henrikâs crying coming from the bathroom behind the rush of the faucet, Josefine took out her phone with trembling hands. It had been long enough that a text wouldnât appear too pushy; but not too long where it would come across like she didnât care. She had to make it known she was sorry. Whether George accepted it or not would be another story.Â
The blinking line taunted her as she stared at their text thread. Any words she tried to formulate didnât feel at all sufficient. Nothing felt right. She typed and deleted and re-typed, trying to put together a string of words that made even a fraction of sense. Coaching her clients on how to own up and apologize seemed easy from behind the desk. Here, now, with her being the one in need of taking ownership, it felt incredibly daunting.Â
When she heard the sound of the bathroom faucet turn off, she forced herself to send whatever she had last typed; something was better than nothing. Staring at it any longer wouldnât miraculously change things.Â
J: I am so sorry, George. I should have handled things differently. I understand if you need spaceâŚjust know Iâm here whenever youâre ready to talk.
âMamma?âÂ
Josefine immediately tucked her phone away and looked up at the sound of her sonâs broken voice. Henrik was standing in the entryway to the living room, still in his racesuit tied around his waist and his hands wrung together in front of him, cheeks flushed and eyes red-rimmed. The only thing she had to do was hold out her arms and he scurried over to curl himself against her chest. She cradled the back of his head with a comforting hand, holding him close, letting him burrow himself in her shirt.Â
âShh,â she consoled him softly, her other hand rubbing soothingly across his back, âtake a deep breath, my boy.â
Henrik hiccuped through his tears, his hands clutching the back of her shirt as he struggled to get his words out. Oh, it broke her heart to see him like that. It broke her heart to think that all of these dominoes fell because of her decision.Â
Josefine leaned away from his embrace just enough to wipe the tears from his cheeks with the pad of her thumb, breathing deeply to try and get him to follow along with her. Despite how hard it was for the little boy to try and calm himself down, Henrik soon tried to mirror her, pulling in air before letting it all out in trembling exhales.Â
Finally, he managed to speak, âI-I didnât mean to say it. It just came out.â
âI know,â Josefine mumbled, wiping his cheek once more.
Looking to the living room carpet with a frown, Henrik muttered sharply, âI wish I didnât say anything. I wish I kept my stupid big mouth shut.â
âHey, now,â she tutted, âDo not speak so harshly about yourself. You made a mistake but you are not stupid.â
Henrik curled into her chest again, wrapping his arms around her middle, and Josefine dropped a kiss to the top of his head.Â
âYou are a boyâyou are going to make many mistakes, and say many things you wish you could take back in your life, hm?â she spoke softly to him.
âI donât want him to hate me.â
His words were so quiet, muffled into the fabric of her shirt over her chest where his face was buried, that she almost didnât catch it. But she did. And, God, she wished she could have reassured him that it wasnât the case and that George could never hate him; but how was she to know? Emotions were still raw, the situation was dire, and she could still see the way he looked at her like she had committed the ultimate betrayal every time she blinked.
Finally, she found her words carefully, âGeorge could not hate you, Henrik. He may be upset but I cannot imagine that he would hate you.â
Henrik didnât answer, simply keeping himself nuzzled into her chest. She hesitated, her fingers brushing gently through his hair, somehow a way to soothe not only him but herself as well.
All she could think about was that night when she told Henrik about Georgeâs secret; how he had been so upset and forlorn, how she was only trying to comfort him. She hadnât meant to tell him the secret maliciously, but rather to express that not all families are born. To explain that George is more than capable of loving a child who was not from his DNA. To explain that Henrik wasnât less than because he didnât have a biological dad in his life.Â
Looking back, she could see now how misguided she wasâŚhow wrong. She always prided herself on how carefully she treaded, how particularly she chose her wordsâsomething so important in her line of work. Yet, here she was, facing the consequences of her mistakes she couldnât imagine making, facing the consequences of breaking Georgeâs trust in such a blatant and snide way.
With her son in her arms, Josefine confessed to him softly, âAnd I made a mistake too. I should not have told you something like that. You were not meant to carry it. I am sorry for putting the weight of it onto you.â
âBut I still said it. Me.â
âYou do not need me to tell you that it was not nice of you to say what you said. That it was not your right to tell Ivy what you did. It is clear you know very well that what you did was not kind.â
Henrik sniffled and pulled back again to look up at her, his words tumbling out desperately, âSheâs not kind to me all the time! I justâŚI just thought thatâŚI couldnât hear one more second of itâŚit was the first thing that I thought ofâŚI didnât mean to!â
âI know, I knowâŚshhâŚâ Josefine murmured, wiping his cheeks again as more heavy tears dripped from the corners of his eyes and he curled back into her, âI could see how it was all simmering under the surface in you. You are such a kind boy that you never pushed back until it all bubbled up inside you and just exploded, ja?â
Henrik nodded into her chest and gripped tighter onto her shirt.
âYou have to learn how to speak up when someone is upsetting you so it does not bubble up like that. You tell them right away.â
Henrik sniffled, âDo youâŚthink sheâs really upset?â
Josefine sighed, âYesâŚI think she is.â
Henrikâs arms tightened around her and she pressed another kiss to the top of his head.
âWe will figure it out,â she murmured, âOne step at a time, ja?â
He didnât answer, but she felt him nod.
Neither of them particularly wanted to stomach eating dinner but they knew they had to; they shared a can of soup and a sleeve of crackers and Henrik finished it with a glass of milk. Neither of them looked at Georgeâs poster on his bedroom wall as Josefine tucked him into bed. In the pitch black room, Josefine stayed with her son as he fell asleep, finding peace in the sound of his breathing.Â
If it wasnât for the way her mind was reeling or the sickening guilt that was still eating her from the inside out, she might have fallen asleep right there beside him. Instead, she eventually tiptoed out of his bedroom, closed the door behind her with a soft creak, and collapsed onto the couch with an exasperated sigh. The sun had just set and it had felt like the longest evening of her entire life.Â
When she picked up her phone, she found that her text to George had been read three hours earlier and left unanswered. Something unsettling churned in her stomach.Â
The last thing she wanted was to hound him while he was dealing with something so big, so she distracted herself with the televisionâsome boring talk show she barely registered. She hadnât even bothered to turn the lights on, leaving her in only the illumination of the moon through the open curtains and the flickering light of the television.Â
By almost ten oâclock, her phone rang.Â
The sight of Georgeâs name flashing across her screen had her heart in her throat. Without giving herself a second to overthink, she grabbed her phone and answered it.
âGeorgeââ she barely managed to croak out. She cleared her throat.
âHello, Josefine.â
The coldness in his tone made her shiver and she slowly eased back into the comfort of the sofa, cowering under the weight of her mistake.Â
âHow, uhâŚis everythingâŚare you holding upâŚâ her words felt too big for her mouth, trying and failing to sound normal; just the right amount of compassionate and remorseful without coming on too strong.Â
George didnât seem to want to bother with the small talk. In all honesty, it was clear he didnât seem like he wanted to talk to her at all. Instead, the reason for his call made itself clear to her with ease as his next words came bluntly, âI wanted to call as I have made the tough decision to forfeit the sponsorship agreement, effective immediately.â
Josefine pressed a trembling hand to her lips and forced herself to swallow back the bile that was working its way up her throat. She had known she had made a grave mistakeâthat she would be owning up for it for the foreseeable futureâbut this?Â
âOh, God, George, please. We are so sorry. I am so sorry. I take full accountability for betraying your trust the way I did. Please, do not take it out on Henrik. Please.â
Her pleas fell on deaf ears. It was clear he had made up his mind.
âMy daughter is my priority, Josefine. She is my priority over everything else, and right now, I have to protect her and deal with the damage you and your son have caused.â
âGeorgeââ
âYou nearly destroyed my family. The trust my child has in me. That is irreversible. Henrik will not be racing with us for the remainder of the season.â
âThere are only two races leftâŚâ
His reply came in expert calm, dripping in that well-practiced PR training prose, âI wish Henrik the best of luck for the remainder of the season.â
Josefine couldnât find her voice. She couldnât find her breath. She knew that anything she said would be a mute point. It was very clear by the tone of Georgeâs voice that his mind had been made up and there was no way to change it. The damage was done.Â
He had the last word with a simple, âGood night.â
And then the dial tone groaned in her ear in the darkness of the living room. On the television talk show, the studio audience laughed.Â
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i am genuinely losing my mind because it makes absolutely no sense for him to look this breathtakingly gorgeous????
the way itâs physically painful how attractive he is??? truly what is the purpose of my life if it doesn't involve him and a marriage certificate lol iâm completely done for
*cracks knuckles & neck, puts glasses on & hair up in a bun* alright, so letâs figure out this cloning business so we can have one george russell to drive the car & one to be the race engineer
