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@eviswriting
hi :)
WELCOME TO MY BLOG, where I yap about all things F1 and so much more...!
main masterlist
requests: open, but let me take my time :)
fyi: no smut!!! just not something I'm comfortable with rn, although I have no problem with suggestive/fade to blacks
i write for: everyone! but keep politics off my page - I want this to be a safe space for everyone.
you can check out the #eviswriting for my work if you don't want to go through the masterlist!
what's poppin' - mv3
summary: yn norris reveals she's pregnant. the internet goes on rampage trying to figure out who the baby daddy could be
notes: i've never written max before!
masterlist | writing tag
liked by lando, flo_norris_showjumping, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, and more!
ynnorris some surprises (and a moron) ☀️
view all comments:
lando i still cant believe it
↳ ynnorris what, that you're the stupidest norris? ↳ lando ily yk ↳ ynnorris i know
lilymhe gorgeousss girl 🤩
↳ ynnorris tyyy lily !!
user1 i can't believe i've never seen her account!!!
↳ user3 she's SO pretty but also she's very out of the limelight yk. idk what she's studying but she's normally in somerset
maxverstappen1 did he actually fly you out?
↳ ynnorris believe it or not, max, yes he did !! thankfully i'm not staying in his stinky flat ↳ lando why am i catching strays??
user2 love the slip dress!
↳ ynnorris thank you so much 🥹
francolapinto hermosaaa
↳ ynnorris no franco ↳ user4 for those wondering, franco's been trying to shoot his shot
carlossainz55 congrats yn!
↳ ynnorris thank youuu carlos! we're so excited 🥺
user5 can we talk about who it is now...?
↳ user6 no bc i really want to know. who could the daddy be!!!
lance_stroll ☀️
↳ ynnorris ☀️
user7 i say it's carlos
↳ user8 no its so obviously charles, why else would lando fly her from england to monaco??? ↳ user9 like half the grid lives in monaco , it could be any of them ↳ user10 WHAT IF ITS OSCAR ↳ user9 nah mate ur crazy ↳ user11 i'm sure she'll say later
user10 where's she staying if not his flat tho
flo_norris_showjumping look at your glow!!!
↳ ynnorris flo you're my favorite <333 ↳ lando again...
user12 the suns are a little weird...it could be lance!!
↳ user13 not STROLL lmao ↳ user14 well from the pic he's a little taller than her but then she's the same height as lando
alex_albon love the first one
↳ ynnorris ty wonder who took it
georgerussell63 do you want to come with alex and i instead of lando?
↳ lando MATE ↳ ynnorris no thanks, i'm with him 🥰 ↳ georgerussell63 it was worth a try lando, alex_albon
user15 2019 rookies dinners CONFIRMED
liked by charles_leclerc, lando, alex_albon, and others!
ynnorris i've been relegated to watching drinks but it's alright because of our late night drives 🥰
view all comments:
user16 DID NOT A SINGLE PERSON THINK IT COULD BE MAX FEWTRELL...
user17 it IS max don't doubt my word
↳ user18 there's 2 maxes lmao ↳ user17 verstappen obvs not that boyfail
lando well ur good at watching drinks
↳ ynnorris ly2
alex_albon lmao
↳ ynnorris screw you !! but not lily x
lance_stroll 🥰
↳ ynnorris 🥰
user19 does NO ONE think it can be lance? come on guys... the matching emojis every post...
user20 it could be charles or pierre or este or isack or one of the french
↳ user21 HEAVILY pushing pierre, could be the reason for the lando/pierre beef!!!
charles_leclerc you should've joined us chérie
↳ ynnorris thank you but no thank you, leclerc
maxverstappen1 what model car is it?
↳ ynnorris audi rs6, it's perf for our little family !!
georgerussell63 you should NEVER follow lando into a club
↳ lando mate. ↳ ynnorris you'd have thought i learned my lesson when i was young but nope
user22 i'm the only one out here fighting for george/yn ✊
↳ user23 joining ur boat
user2 THAT DRESS 🤩
↳ ynnorris 🫶
liked by lando, maxverstappen1, lance_stroll, charles_leclerc, and more!
ynnorris miami what's poppin' 🇺🇸
view all comments:
user24 does anyone know the story between her and lance's friendship...? something? (i want to see soemthing like he COULD be the baby daddy...)
↳ user25 basically at one of the first gps yn went to, she got lost and lance was the one to find her (i think this was 2020 so the beautiful pink racing point days) she recognized him a bit from random karting events + f1, and they hung out. to this day they're friendly! ↳ user24 i might give up my yn/lance agenda then...
user26 THE BABY DADDY. IS. OSCAR.
↳ user27 some people are pushing it but like... htye havent even liked ANY of each others stuff ↳ user26 they're obviously keeping a low profile jeez you moron ↳ user27 right... ↳ user28 well i think its max or an unknown guy!!! the buildup could be just for the baby <3
lando hopefully not your stomach
↳ ynnorris i'm telling mum and oli and dad ↳ lando sorry sorry sorry (and not him pls 🙏)
lando look at that handsome fella!!!
↳ ynnorris go away !!
lance stroll 🇺🇸
↳ ynnorris 🇺🇸
user29 guys what if its a rookie.. like liam or kimi
↳ user30 they're a bit young ↳ user29 age is subjective! mark and ann are happy and they've got what 10 years? ↳ user31 lowk u on to something...
charles_leclerc you never come over to ferrari anymore...
↳ ynnorris i only went over for carlos, is he there, charles? ↳ charles_leclerc ouch
georgerussell63 miami
↳ ynnorris poleboy!
user32 isnt it a little weird oscar doesn't say ANYTHING...
↳ user33 not really (i'm not trying to be anti or anything but) we've seen oscar get sarcastic with lando when things don't go his way; they've said multiple times they're not friends outside of f1; it's just not oscar's business.
maxverstappen1 interesting choices to show...
↳ ynnorris did you know that you, lance, and lando all didn't get p1 when you got pole for the first time? ↳ maxverstappen1 ... ok ↳ ynnorris i'm making the whole grid bracelets come get yours !!
liked by lando, victoriaverstappen, f1, and more!
ynnorris & maxverstappen1 eliza florence verstappen, 15.5.26 ☀️
view all comments:
lando SHES SO FKIFHG GORFEOUS I HAVENT STOPPED CRYING AND HSE S SHO PRETTY AND YOU YN I LOVE YOUUUUUUU
↳ ynnorris stop crying you're making me cry 😭 i love you so much lando, you're going to be the best uncle everrr
carlossainz55 look at her!
↳ maxverstappen1 mate we're all crying
victoriaverstappen such a perfect name 😊
↳ ynnorris 🥺
lance_stroll look at her!
↳ ynnorris 🥰
lewishamilton i accept abu dhabi because it meant that max had the guts to ask you. Eliza is gorgeous! much congrats x
↳ ynnorris thank you so so much lewis!!! and max says the same right back at you x
user24 i'm actually a bit emotional idc if its parasocial
↳ user34 no it really is what do you mean max asked her out after winning his first title!!!
user33 i really thought it would be carlos...
user36 I WAS RIGHTTTT
lilymhe mama!!!
↳ ynnorris <333
georgerussell63 congrats !!
↳ ynnorris tyyy georgie boyyy
maxverstappen1 i love you 💖
↳ ynnorris i love you too 💖
lando i still can't beliee MAX knocked you up
↳ maxverstappen1 consent goes both ways !! ↳ lando fuck right off
story posted by ynnorris:
my baby daddy and my baby 🥺🥰
fin.
Ev's December - cs55
summary: part of the Ev's December challenge! :)
notes: day 1 - carlos! :)
masterlist | writing tag
liked by sister, yourbff, carlossainz55, and 50 others!
🔒 youruser carlitooooos ❤
view all comments:
carlossainz55 mi hermosa [my pretty]
↳ youruser hola bebé! [hi baby!]
yourbff you look majestiiiiccccccc <333
↳ youruser and you look angeliiiiicccccc <333
reyesvdec Es tan bueno verte feliz! 🫶 [it is so good to see you happy]
↳ youruser gracias, Reyes! [thank you, Reyes!]
liked by youruser, carlossainz55, lando, and 729k others!
f1 FOR THE FIRST TIME, CARLOS SAINZ WINS THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX WITH WILLIAMS!
view all comments:
user1 OMG there's our smooooooth operaaatooooor 🎵
user2 he finally has his spark back ahhhh ✨
↳ user3 I know last year in Ferrari killed him
user4 SMOOTH OPERATOR ❤
user5 te amamos <3 [we love you]
↳ user6 NUESTRO CARLITOS! [our Carlitos!] ↳ user7 él es EL "smooth operator" [he is THE "smooth operator"]
carlossainz55 gracias 💪 [thanks]
↳ lando you are the SMOOOOOTH ↳ lando oPERATOOOOR !
user8 comparing him to lewis...
↳ user2 can we just have some happiness? c'mon
user9 CARLOS SAINZZZZZZ
user10 I am genuinely bawling rn 😭
williamsracing that's our boy! 💙
↳ user10 ughhhh Williams admin ily!!!
carlossainz55 mi corazón y mi esposa de seis años, aquí estás para el mundo. los días contigo son los mejores; te amo, bebé ❤ [my heart and my wife of six years, here you are for the world. the days with you are the best ones; I love you, baby]
view all comments:
user10 SIX YEARS?
↳ user11 that's from McLaren, Jesus Christ ↳ user12 wooooow. how long do we think lando's known? that man can't keep a secret to save his life lol
lando FINALLY!!!! I don't need to jide it anymore!!!! so happy for you yn, you deserve it!
↳ lando oh and happy for you too i guess Carlos ↳ lando oh em gee you look so good
maxverstappen1 been a long time coming mate, happy for you both! it feels like yesterday when she was at our garage as "just a friend, maxie!" and now it's been six years of marriage 🤣
↳ carlossainz55 thanks for keeping it a secret, gatito ↳ youruser ahhh always the first one, max 😌 thank you for everything you've done for us!
user13 HOLY SHT MAX AND LANDO'S COMMENTS?????
↳ user14 they are SO funny jesus ↳ user15 right bc i'm crying in the corner, what do you mean "just a friend"?
user16 nooo that should be me!!!
↳ user17 lowk can't figure out if you're lando's burner or charles's 💀
user18 six years...dang secrets can be kept long
charles_leclerc well yn, good for you for staying...Carlos, you traitor, you deserve nothing
↳ charles_leclerc kidding! 😊 ↳ charles_leclerc happy for both of you except from when I heard unholy things 🫶
user19 LMAO not his teammates exposing him 😭
alex_albon well mate, you are officially old
↳ georgerussell63 what Alex is trying to say is happy six years, Carlos and yn!
user20 i CANNOT here 😭
lando ahhh Carlitos looking good
↳ youruser get your Carlos-loving ass out of here
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬 — eo31 + pg10
esteban ocon x !ex reader x pierre gasly (smau + written)
you haven’t thought about esteban ocon in years. not really, anyway. sometimes his name sneaks into your head when the rain smells like home, or when you drive past a go-kart track and remember the way his laughter used to echo off the asphalt. but that was a lifetime ago — another version of you, another version of him.
now you build engines for a living, your hands more familiar with metal than memories. you’ve built walls, too, ones you thought were unshakable. until pierre gasly crashes right through them with his grin, his warmth, his way of making you feel seen again.
you tell yourself it’s safe this time. easy. clean. until he invites you to one of his races, and you find yourself standing in a garage painted blue and pink — staring into the same brown eyes that once promised you forever.
fc : dekota_thompson on ig (used a few pics of kika + flavy as well!) a/n : day 18 of chef's tea party series! (for the purpose of the story, estie is still with alpine and franco is at haas!) (also i switched up the og request ever so slightly, pierre and esteban knew each other as children obvs but reader and pierre never met until later on)
୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
yourusername
liked by pierregasly, alexandrasaintmleux, yourbff and 23,450 others.
yourusername : a little bit of this, a little bit of that <3
tagged : pierregasly
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view 907 other comments.
pierregasly : mon bébé ♥️
liked by yourusername
↳ yourusername : mon amour🥰
liked by pierregasly
username007 : omg we have a new wag!!!!
↳ username13 : she is so beautiful too oml
↳ username15 : how did pierre pull her????
alexandrasaintmleux : please come to a race soon!!!! i need to meet youuuu😭😭
liked by yourusername
↳ yourusername : omg:,) i will be at the next one! so excited to finally meet you!
liked by alexandrasaintmleux
↳ username00 : omg important wag meeting
yourbff : the most beautiful girl in the world 💋
liked by yourusername
↳ yourusername : ily ily ily
liked by yourbff
username005 : pierre's new gf??
↳ username775 : yes yes. i heard she is super smart too. i believe she is an engineer
↳ yourusername : you heard correctly!
liked by 607 others
↳ username775 : omg hiiiii
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flashback!
You meet Esteban when you’re seven years old. He’s the boy next door — skinny knees, messy brown hair, a chipped front tooth, and an endless supply of energy. He shows up at your door one afternoon holding a small die-cast race car and says, very matter of factly, “You’re going to help me build a racetrack.”
From then on, you do everything together. Summers smell like gasoline and lemonade, scraped palms and laughter. He races anything with wheels, and you take everything apart just to see how it works. Your parents call you inseparable, but neither of you ever think much about it. You’re just you and Esteban.
He’s wild in the way kids are when they dream too big. You’re steady in the way kids are when they believe in something. He says he’ll be a Formula 1 driver one day, and you never laugh — you just nod and say, “Then I’ll build your car.”
When you’re twelve, he wins his first real karting race, and you’re the loudest one cheering. When you’re fourteen, he starts spending more time at the track than at home, but he always comes by your house to tell you about his day. He says it’s because you listen better than anyone else.
And when you’re sixteen, he kisses you for the first time — in the empty parking lot of the local grocery store, sitting on the hood of his mother’s car. It’s awkward and too fast, but it feels like something you’d both been waiting for your whole lives.
You start dating after that. Slowly, quietly, in that teenage way where everything feels both infinite and fragile. You learn how to love through him — through every early morning text, every late-night call, every promise whispered into the dark.
You build each other. You make each other believe that maybe dreams aren’t so impossible after all.
When you’re nineteen, the world stops being small.
He gets his first big opportunity — a chance at a Formula 1 career. You get accepted into one of the best engineering schools in France. It’s everything you both worked for, but it means being apart.
The first few weeks, you try. Calls, texts, photos — anything to keep the distance from swallowing you whole. But his schedule gets tighter, and your assignments pile higher. The calls turn into messages, the messages turn into silence.
You visit him once that summer. He’s different — not in a bad way, just different. He’s confident now, busier, surrounded by people who talk about lap times and sponsors instead of small-town dreams. He looks at you like he wants to hold on, but he doesn’t know how.
One night, you’re sitting outside his small apartment, your legs tangled under a blanket, and he says, “I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t know how to do this.”
You don’t cry. You just take his hand and nod. “Maybe we’re not meant to figure it out right now.”
You kiss him goodbye the next morning — soft and steady, like you’re trying to memorize the way it feels.
And then you both go your separate ways.
You tell yourself it’s the right thing. You stop checking the race results, stop following the headlines. You focus on equations, engines, and blueprints. You stop wondering where he is or who he’s become. At least, you try to.
Years pass. You graduate with honors. You get your dream job at a leading motorsports company — designing hybrid systems and performance parts for race teams all over the world.
You’ve built a good life. A quiet one. Your apartment smells like coffee and metal polish, your hands are always inked with notes or grease. You don’t think much about the sport anymore; it’s just a job, one you happen to be very good at.
Then, one day, you’re sent to represent your company at a development conference in Monaco. You’re giving a presentation about energy recovery systems when someone interrupts from the audience with a question — half technical, half teasing:
“So, are you saying you could make me faster than Verstappen?”
You look up to see Pierre Gasly, grinning like he already knows the answer. The room laughs, and you roll your eyes, replying just as smoothly, “If you can keep it out of the wall, maybe.”
He finds you afterward. He’s charming, confident, but disarmingly kind. He tells you your work is fascinating, that he’s never met someone who talks about engines like they’re alive. You try not to blush when he asks if he can take you to dinner to “continue the scientific discussion.”
One dinner turns into two, two into weekends, and before long, into something real. Pierre makes you laugh again — a loud, honest laugh that you hadn’t heard in years. He listens to you talk about your projects, asks questions, remembers details. He tells you you’re brilliant, not just talented.
And you fall for him, softly, unexpectedly. He never pushes you to talk about the past, and you never tell him about the boy who taught you how to dream.
You don’t know that his teammate — the man waiting in the next garage over, the one he laughs about and argues with over lunch — is the same boy whose name you stopped saying years ago. Not yet.
୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
present day!
It’s one of those days that start wrong and never quite recover. The office lights flicker. The simulation software crashes twice. One of your senior engineers questions a design you’ve already tested and proven. You spill coffee on your white blouse right before a meeting and spend the entire afternoon pretending it doesn’t bother you.
By the time you get home, you’re exhausted — the kind of tired that sits in your bones. You drop your bag by the door, kick off your shoes, and sigh into the quiet hum of your apartment. You’re already thinking about reheating leftovers and collapsing in bed when you hear it — soft music coming from the kitchen.
You frown, heart skipping. You didn’t leave anything on.
Then you smell it — garlic, basil, the warm sweetness of something simmering.
“Mon amour?” a voice calls from the kitchen.
Your breath catches. You round the corner, and there he is.
Pierre.
He’s in a white T-shirt and sweatpants, hair slightly messy, barefoot on your kitchen tile. He’s holding a wooden spoon and grinning at you like you just lit up the whole world.
“Surprise,” he says, lifting the spoon as if it’s part of the announcement. “I came home early.”
For a moment, you just stand there, speechless. Then you laugh — tired, relieved, a little shaky. “You weren’t supposed to be back until Friday.”
“I know.” He crosses the room in a few steps and wraps his arms around you before you can say anything else. “But I missed you too much.”
You melt into him instantly, your face pressed against his chest. The warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart, the faint smell of soap and spice — it all untangles the knot in your chest that’s been there all day.
He leans down to kiss your forehead. “Tough day?”
You nod. “Everything went wrong. Absolutely everything.”
“Then tonight,” he says softly, “everything will go right.”
Dinner is perfect — not because of the food, though his cooking is surprisingly good, but because of him. He tells you stories about the last few weeks on the road — about how he and his trainer accidentally got locked out of their hotel room, about a seagull stealing a mechanic’s sandwich, about the chaos of travel that somehow sounds charming when he says it.
You tell him about work — about the project that’s been giving you trouble, about the simulation that refused to run, about how your coworker insists that a certain formula “doesn’t make sense” when it absolutely does.
Pierre listens to every word. He doesn’t interrupt or try to fix it. He just listens, his eyes soft and full of that patient, quiet understanding that always makes you feel like the only person in the room.
When you finish eating, he insists on doing the dishes even though you protest. You try to argue, but he kisses you mid-sentence, a lazy, playful kiss that leaves you smiling against his lips.
“Go,” he murmurs. “Take a bath. I’ll take care of everything.”
You blink, a little dazed. “You’re running me a bath?”
He shrugs, feigning innocence. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”
You roll your eyes but your chest feels light, full.
The bathroom smells like lavender when you step inside. Candles flicker along the counter, and the water in the tub steams gently. You can hear faint music from the living room — something slow and soft, almost like a lullaby.
Pierre knocks once before poking his head in, holding a towel. “Everything okay, chérie?”
You smile, already sinking into the water. “Perfect.”
He walks over, crouches beside the tub, and brushes a wet strand of hair from your cheek. “You work too hard,” he says, his voice low and teasing.
“You race cars at two hundred miles per hour,” you counter. “I think we’re even.”
He laughs, that easy, boyish sound that always fills a room. “Maybe. But at least I get a few days off between races. You don’t.”
You close your eyes, letting the water cradle you. “That’s because machines don’t take vacations.”
Pierre leans down and presses a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll make sure you do.”
Later, you’re both in bed — your hair still damp, his skin warm against yours. The city hums quietly outside, a faint reminder that the world is still moving even though this small space feels timeless.
He lies on his side, propped up on one elbow, just watching you. He traces the tattoo on your forearm with his fingertip, smiling faintly.
“You’re staring,” you murmur.
“Can you blame me?” he says, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “You look peaceful. I like seeing you like this.”
You lean into his touch, half-asleep, half-lost in the comfort of him.
Then his voice softens. “I was thinking…”
You hum in response, your eyes still closed.
“Would you come to the next race with me?”
Your eyes open, just slightly. “The race? Pierre, you know I—”
“I already spoke to your boss,” he interrupts gently, grinning when you sit up in surprise. “Don’t be mad. I just asked if you could have a few days off. I told him it was for something important.”
You blink. “Pierre…”
“He said yes.” He reaches for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “You’ve never been. I want you to see it — what I do, what I love. You’ve spent so much time helping others race. You deserve to see it up close.”
You search his face, trying to find a reason to refuse, but all you find is sincerity. The warmth in his eyes melts away any hesitation.
“Okay,” you say finally, smiling softly. “I’ll go.”
His grin widens. “You will?”
“Yes,” you laugh. “How could I say no when you’ve already planned everything?”
He laughs too, pulling you close again until you’re tucked against his chest. “You won’t regret it.”
You rest your head against him, feeling his heartbeat slow beneath your palm. The lavender still lingers on your skin, and for the first time in weeks, you feel completely at peace. You don’t know yet that this trip — this one, simple yes — will change everything.
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f1gossipgirls
567,000 likes.
f1gossipgirls : we officially have a new wag in the paddock! after a few months of soft launching, yn ln, has finally entered the paddock alongside pierre gasly. the two have been rumored to be together for a few months now. yn ln is a top engineer for a massive motorsports company. i think pierre found a good one!
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user has limited the amount of comments on this post.
username008 : oh so she is SMART SMART
liked by f1gossipgirls
↳ f1gossipgirls : fr fr one of the teams should hire her
↳ username75 : i heard she also graduated from one of the best engineering schools in the world
liked by f1gossipgirls
username010 : was she seen with any of the other wags today??
↳ f1gossipgirls : yes! she was seen sitting with alexandra and carmen outside of hospitality:)
username085 : i saw her on alpines instagram story and wasn't sure who she was. beautiful girl!
↳ username23 : yeah i saw that video of her talking to esteban and some of the team
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Light filters through the curtains like honey, warm and golden against the linen sheets. You wake before Pierre does — or at least, you think you do. He’s already half-awake, watching you through heavy lashes, a lazy smile curling at his lips when your eyes meet.
“Bonjour, ma belle,” he murmurs, voice still rough with sleep.
You smile softly. “Good morning.”
He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers tracing your jaw in that absent, tender way that still makes your heart trip. “Big day,” he teases. “Your first time in the paddock.”
You groan and bury your face in the pillow. “Don’t remind me. I’m going to make a fool of myself.”
Pierre laughs — that quiet, melodic sound that fills a room without trying. “Impossible. You could walk in wearing pajamas and everyone would still adore you.”
You lift your head to give him a look, and he just grins wider. “I’m serious. You’ll be fine. Just be yourself — the brilliant engineer who makes everyone else look slow.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now.
You shower, dry your hair, and stand in front of the mirror trying to decide if the dress you packed is too much. It’s a simple white sundress — elegant but soft, paired with small gold earrings and comfortable shoes. You’re fussing with the zipper when you hear Pierre behind you.
“Need help?” he asks, voice quiet.
You nod, holding your hair out of the way. His fingers brush against your bare back as he zips the dress up, slow and careful, almost reverent.
When he finishes, his hands linger for a moment. “You look beautiful,” he says, so softly you almost don’t catch it.
You turn around, heart tugging in your chest, and kiss him gently — one of those soft, morning kisses that taste like sunlight and trust.
The drive to the paddock feels surreal. You’ve seen photos, of course — the glitz, the chaos, the fans leaning over fences for autographs. But seeing it up close is something else entirely. The roar of engines in the distance, the blur of team colors, the hum of energy that seems to vibrate in your chest.
Pierre’s hand stays in yours as you step out of the car. Cameras flash immediately, reporters calling his name, shouting questions. You blink against the brightness but don’t flinch — years of conferences and presentations have taught you how to handle being watched.
Pierre introduces you to a few staff members as you walk, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand, grounding you. “This is YN,” he says with quiet pride. “She’s an engineer — one of the best, actually.”
You laugh softly, trying not to blush. “He’s exaggerating.”
But you see the glances exchanged between photographers and team members — curiosity, recognition, maybe even a bit of awe. You’re not just “Pierre’s girlfriend” to them. You’re someone who belongs here, even if you don’t realize it yet.
Across the paddock, Esteban Ocon is talking to his race engineer when something makes him look up. At first, he doesn’t understand what he’s seeing — just the flash of a white dress, a familiar tilt of a head, a laugh that curls around him like a memory.
His heart stops. It can’t be. He blinks, thinking it’s the light playing tricks on him, but when she turns slightly — when you turn slightly — everything in him freezes. It’s you.
Older, poised, radiant. The same eyes, the same smile that used to undo him completely. You’re standing next to Pierre Gasly, hand in his, moving through the crowd like you were always meant to be here.
Esteban’s stomach twists. He looks away quickly, pretending to study his tablet, but his mind is gone — years rewinding all at once. The way you used to laugh when he tripped over his words. The way you’d fall asleep next to him during study breaks. The way you said goodbye. He forces a breath out. Of course Pierre didn’t know. How could he?
He tells himself he’ll stay out of the way. It’s better that way — cleaner. You’re happy, and he won’t ruin that. You don’t see him. You’re too caught up in the whirlwind of introductions and cameras. You move easily through the noise, shaking hands, smiling when photographers call your name, answering a few friendly questions about your work when someone recognizes you from an industry piece.
Pierre watches you the entire time, pride shining through every look. You handle it all effortlessly — calm, gracious, exactly as he knew you would.
After a few rounds of media, he leads you toward the hospitality area where a few of the other drivers’ partners are gathered. That’s where you meet Alexandra Saint Mleux, Lily Muni He, and Carmen Mundt — all of whom immediately take to you.
Alexandra greets you first, all warmth and curiosity. “Pierre told us you’re an engineer! You must be incredibly smart to do what you do.”
You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I like to think so, on good days.”
Lily grins. “You have to meet the rest of us. We’re kind of like the unofficial welcome committee.”
Carmen leans in with a conspiratorial smile. “And the best part of the paddock gossip circle. We promise to share the good stuff.”
You spend the next hour chatting, laughing, sipping on coffee that’s too strong but still comforting. They make you feel included instantly — teasing you about Pierre’s habit of talking about you constantly, telling you stories about life on the road.
It’s easy, warm, and for the first time since arriving, you feel like you truly belong here.
Eventually, Pierre returns, sunglasses pushed up in his hair, a grin on his face. “Having fun without me, chérie?”
“Always,” you tease.
He chuckles and gestures toward the garage. “Come on. There are some people I want you to meet.”
He takes you through the Alpine hospitality area, introducing you to the engineers and technical staff. When they learn who you are and what you do, their expressions shift from polite interest to genuine respect. You talk easily about energy systems, performance analysis, and design structures — it’s comfortable territory for you, and you can see how impressed they are.
Pierre beams the whole time, one arm casually around your waist. “Told you she was brilliant,” he says to one of the engineers, and you elbow him playfully.
Then, as you’re about to head back toward his side of the garage, Pierre glances around. “I should find Esteban — I haven’t seen him all morning.”
You freeze at the name, your pulse skipping. You tell yourself it’s a coincidence. It has to be.
But before you can say anything, Pierre spots him across the garage. “Ah! There he is!”
You follow his gaze — and your breath catches. There he is. Esteban.
Older. Broader shoulders. The same dark eyes, the same sharp jawline softened by surprise when he turns and sees you.
Pierre doesn’t notice the tension. He grins, clapping his teammate on the shoulder. “Esteban! Come say hello. This is YN.”
You and Esteban both hesitate for half a second too long — long enough for it to feel like the air shifts.
“Hi,” you manage, forcing a polite smile. “It’s… nice to meet you.”
His expression doesn’t flicker. If anything, he plays the part perfectly. “Likewise. Welcome to the team.” His voice is smooth, steady, but there’s something behind it — a tremor only you recognize.
Pierre nods proudly. “She’s an engineer, by the way. Works in performance systems. I’ve been trying to convince her to work for Alpine one day.”
Esteban’s eyes flicker, a small smile ghosting his lips. “That would be… fitting.”
The silence that follows feels like a held breath. You clear your throat softly. “It was nice meeting you, Esteban. I should let you get back to work.”
“Of course.” His tone is polite, professional. The same voice he used the day he told you goodbye.
You step back toward Pierre, who rests a hand on your back, none the wiser. As you walk away, you can feel Esteban’s gaze on you — not invasive, not possessive. Just quietly there.
That evening, back in the hotel room, you’re curled up on the bed with your laptop when Pierre comes out of the shower.
He sits beside you, towel drying his hair. “You were amazing today,” he says softly. “Everyone loved you.”
You smile. “It was fun. Tiring, but fun.”
He hesitates for a moment before speaking again. “You seemed… a little quiet after meeting Esteban. Everything okay?”
Your heartbeat stutters, but you force an easy smile. “Yeah, I was just overwhelmed, I think. There’s a lot to take in.”
He studies you for a moment, like he’s trying to read something in your face, then nods. “Fair enough.” He leans over, kissing your forehead. “Try to rest, okay? Tomorrow will be even busier.”
You nod, watching him move around the room, your mind far away — back in that brief moment when familiar brown eyes met yours across the noise of the paddock and everything you’d buried came rushing back.
You tell yourself it’s fine. That you’ve moved on. But deep down, something you thought was gone has started to stir again.
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You wake slowly, the soft hum of early traffic beneath you, the faint rustle of fabric as Pierre moves around the room. He’s already half-dressed in Alpine blue, the crisp lines of his uniform fitting him perfectly. When he notices you blinking awake, his expression softens instantly.
“Morning, mon cœur,” he murmurs, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead. His hand runs absently through your hair, the gesture so familiar it makes your chest ache a little. “Did you sleep well?”
You nod, stretching, your voice still raspy from sleep. “Better now that I don’t have to wake up alone.”
Pierre grins at that, helping you sit up before handing you a mug of coffee just the way you like it. There’s something about him on race mornings — focused but tender, calm but humming with the kind of quiet intensity that made you fall for him in the first place. You sip slowly, watching as he readjusts his shirt, fixing his small necklace as well.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” he says softly, almost to himself.
You smile. “You made it impossible to say no.”
His grin turns boyish, proud. “Good. That was the plan.”
You arrive at the paddock with Pierre’s hand in yours. The cameras start flashing immediately — fans calling his name, journalists shouting questions that he handles with effortless charm. He keeps you close though, his thumb brushing your hand every few seconds, grounding you through the noise.
The scent of rubber and fuel, the electric hum of engines warming up, the blur of blue and orange team colors — it’s all so familiar and yet completely new through this lens. You’ve worked in motorsport for years, analyzing performance data, designing simulations, but walking through the paddock as a wag is still brand new. They’ve all heard about you by now, the quietly brilliant engineer who managed to charm the driver.
When you lean close to whisper something to Pierre, the way his hand finds the small of your back, the way he looks at you — it’s soft, natural, unguarded. And from a few meters away, someone notices.
Esteban. He’s been pretending not to. He’s been trying, so hard, all morning — burying himself in race prep, in data sheets, in pit wall briefings — but every time he catches a flash of you, laughing, standing too close to Pierre, his pulse spikes in a way he hates.
He’s supposed to be over this. Over you. But there you are, wearing the same kind of sundress you used to wear when the two of you were young and stupid and in love — your smile bright, your hair caught by the wind, your hand in another man’s.
He tells himself to look away. He doesn’t.
When the drivers head to the garage for the pre-race briefing, you stand with a few of the other partners — Alexandra, Lily, Carmen — all of them sweet and welcoming. You chat about travel schedules, favorite circuits, jet lag, trying to seem normal while your heart beats like it’s trying to punch its way out of your chest.
At one point, Alexandra leans close and laughs, “Pierre’s been glowing since you got here, you know that? He’s usually all intense before a race, but this morning he was actually smiling.”
You smile at that — genuine, warm — and glance toward the garage where he’s standing with Esteban.
They’re side by side, their Alpine suits matching, helmets under their arms. Pierre looks calm. Esteban… doesn’t. His expression is a practiced mask of focus, but you can see the tension in the way his jaw tightens, the way he keeps his eyes anywhere but where you stand.
The race itself is chaos.
You stand just behind the monitors in Alpine’s hospitality suite, your hand pressed to your chest every time the cameras cut to Pierre’s car. He’s fast today — confident, precise. Esteban too, but every time they battle on track, you feel that strange twist in your stomach.
You want Pierre to win. Of course you do. But when Esteban’s radio crackles through the speakers — his voice tight, straining, full of that same competitive fire you once loved — it hits somewhere deep and uninvited.
Pierre finishes P6. Esteban, P8. Both solid results. The team celebrates. Cameras flash. And you smile, trying to keep your focus on Pierre — who rushes up to you post-race, hair damp with sweat, still in his fire suit.
He kisses you, right there in front of everyone. It’s quick, but it’s enough to make your knees weak and for Esteban — a few feet away — to freeze mid-step.
Later, when things quiet down, you step outside for air. The sunset paints the paddock in gold and rose, soft light bouncing off the metallic trailers. You’re lost in thought when you hear his voice.
“YN.”
You turn — and it’s him. Esteban. Standing a few meters away, still in his base layer, hair tousled, eyes unreadable.
For a moment, neither of you speaks. The hum of generators fills the silence.
“You look…” He pauses, swallowing hard. “You look good.”
You smile faintly. “You too. Congrats on the points.”
He nods. “Thanks.” His hands flex at his sides. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Pierre surprised me,” you say simply. “Didn’t really have time to overthink it.”
He huffs a quiet laugh — one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Sounds like him.”
The silence stretches again, heavier this time.
There’s a million things unsaid between you — old heartbreak, lingering what-ifs, the quiet ache of recognition. You can feel it, the pull of familiarity, the warmth of memories neither of you should still hold onto.
“I’m happy for you,” Esteban finally says. It sounds sincere. Mostly. “He’s… good for you.”
You nod, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “He is.”
And that’s it. That’s all there’s room for.
Before you can say more, Pierre’s voice carries down the walkway, calling your name — bright, warm, alive. You glance toward him, then back at Esteban. He’s already looking away.
You join Pierre, slipping your hand into his as you walk off together. Behind you, Esteban watches until you disappear around the corner, his chest tight with something that feels a lot like regret.
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a few weeks later...
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It happens on a quiet Thursday morning, the kind that starts with lazy sunlight spilling through the windows and Pierre humming to himself in the kitchen. You’re half-awake, padding in barefoot, your hair in a loose braid and your favorite mug in hand when your phone buzzes with an email notification.
At first, you don’t think much of it — your inbox is usually full of data reports, simulation updates, minor consultation requests. But then you see the subject line.
“Formal Offer — Alpine F1 Engineering Division.”
Your eyes widen. You set the mug down slowly. Pierre glances over his shoulder from the counter, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth. “Everything okay?”
You read the first few lines once, twice, three times before your voice even returns. “They… they want to hire me,” you whisper. “Full-time. Alpine wants me on their engineering team.”
Pierre’s reaction is immediate. His face lights up, bright and pure and proud — like the sun catching on glass. He crosses the room in seconds, arms wrapping tightly around you, lifting you off the floor as he spins you once, laughing against your cheek.
“Mon cœur! That’s incredible!” he says between kisses, his voice thick with emotion. “You deserve this — you earned this.”
You cling to him, laughing and breathless. “They said I can lead one of the vehicle performance projects — redesigning their data models, adjusting the suspension and aero integration workflow. Basically, I can… change anything I think needs changing.”
Pierre sets you down gently but doesn’t let go. His eyes shine with pride. “Then say yes.”
You look up at him, heart pounding. “You really think I should?”
“I know you should,” he says softly. “This is your dream, YN. And selfishly?” His lips twitch into a grin. “I love the idea of seeing you in my garage every weekend.”
You laugh, swatting at his chest — but inside, you’re already imagining it. The paddock, the garage, the smell of fuel and machinery, the rush of purpose. And yes — the inevitable complication.
Because no matter how hard you try not to think about it, you know exactly who else wears Alpine blue.
Your first race weekend as part of the Alpine engineering team feels surreal. The uniform fits perfectly — navy and white with your name embroidered just above the logo. The lanyard around your neck carries new weight.
Pierre can’t stop smiling when he sees you step out of the hotel that morning. “You look perfect,” he murmurs, stealing a quick kiss before the cameras find you.
“Professional,” you correct, grinning.
“Same thing,” he says easily, his hand brushing yours as you walk toward the paddock together.
Inside the garage, you’re instantly in your element — monitors humming, mechanics moving with precision, engineers cross-checking telemetry. You slide seamlessly into the rhythm, reviewing data from free practice, analyzing wind tunnel feedback, suggesting adjustments that actually get implemented.
And it works. For the first time in a long while, Alpine feels… sharp. Balanced. Competitive. Everyone notices. Even Esteban.
He keeps his distance at first — polite nods, brief exchanges during debriefs — but his eyes linger longer than they should. Watching you in that space, confident and capable, sparks something both admiring and painful in him.
He’s genuinely happy for you. He really is. But when he sees the way Pierre’s hand rests on your back as he leans in to whisper something that makes you laugh, the way you glow under the fluorescent lights — it’s a quiet kind of ache. The kind that has no right to still exist.
Race day comes, and Alpine is flying. Strategy clicks. Pit stops are smooth. Pierre finishes P4; Esteban, P5. Double points. The best result the team’s had all season.
When the checkered flag waves, the garage erupts — cheers, applause, the slap of hands on shoulders. Someone pops a bottle of champagne over the monitors. You’re in the middle of it all, flushed and beaming.
Pierre finds you first, pulling you into a hug that lifts you clean off your feet. “You did it, engineer,” he laughs into your ear, his voice full of pride.
“We did it,” you correct, cheeks warm.
Esteban approaches a moment later, his helmet tucked under his arm, still in his suit. “That new setup on the suspension—” he starts, smiling faintly, “—genius. Really made a difference.”
You blink, a little caught off guard but pleased nonetheless. “Thanks. You drove it beautifully.”
Pierre glances between you two, smiling, oblivious to the quiet current that hums beneath the exchange. “My girlfriend’s brilliant, huh?” he teases, nudging Esteban’s arm.
Esteban laughs softly, nodding. “Yeah. She is.”
For a fleeting second, your eyes meet — and something unspoken flickers there before you both turn away.
The celebration dinner is full of laughter, champagne, and congratulations. But later, when you and Pierre finally slip away to your hotel room, the quiet feels heavier — gentler, somehow.
You’re both exhausted, the adrenaline finally fading. He’s sitting on the bed, still half-dressed in team gear, scrolling through messages from friends and colleagues. You sit beside him, twisting your fingers nervously in your lap.
“Pierre?” you start softly.
He looks up immediately. “Yeah, mon amour?”
You take a breath. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He sets his phone down, turning his full attention to you. “Okay.”
You exhale slowly. “It’s about Esteban.”
His brows lift slightly, but his expression remains calm. “Alright.”
You hesitate, searching for the right words. “Before you and I met… Esteban and I— we used to be together. A long time ago. When we were kids, really. It ended before I moved on with my career, before I met you. I just— I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else or think I was hiding it.”
Pierre watches you quietly, processing. Then, he nods once — slow, deliberate. “Okay.”
You blink. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” He reaches out, taking your hand gently. “It doesn’t change anything. You had a life before me, YN. So did I. What matters is that you’re here now. With me.”
The relief hits you like a wave, your chest loosening. “You’re really not upset?”
He smiles — small, sincere. “Only if it makes you uncomfortable. If working with him hurts you in any way, we’ll talk about it. But otherwise?” His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “I trust you. Completely.”
Your throat tightens. “I don’t deserve you.”
He laughs quietly, pulling you into his chest. “You do. And for the record,” he murmurs against your hair, “I’m glad he gets to see how amazing you’ve become.”
You laugh softly, half-embarrassed, half in awe of him. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m in love,” he corrects, kissing the top of your head.
You stay like that for a long while — tangled together in the quiet, the city lights flickering outside the window, your heart finally still.
But later, when Pierre falls asleep with his arm draped over your waist, you find yourself staring at the ceiling, thinking about how easy he made it all seem. And wondering why, deep down, part of you doesn’t feel completely at peace yet.
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a few weeks later...
It starts small. Little things that no one else would notice.
The way Esteban’s gaze lingers across the garage a moment too long when you’re leaning over Pierre’s monitor, explaining the telemetry updates. The way your pulse jumps every time you hear his voice during debriefs — that same rhythm you once knew by heart.
You tell yourself it’s fine. You’re colleagues now. Adults. You’ve built something real with Pierre — something strong, something safe. You love him. You’re sure of that. But emotions don’t always listen to reason.
Three weeks later, Alpine heads into another race weekend, and the air in the paddock feels thick with heat and competition. Pierre’s been in form lately — two top-five finishes back-to-back — and Esteban’s pushing harder than ever to match him.
During FP2, they nearly collide in Turn 9. It’s nothing serious, just a close call, but when they return to the garage, the tension is unmistakable.
Pierre pulls off his gloves, shaking his head. “He cut in too early,” he mutters, more frustrated than angry.
Esteban, already out of his helmet, shoots back dryly, “Maybe if someone had checked their mirrors—”
“Maybe if someone remembered it’s practice and not the championship,” Pierre snaps.
You’re standing between them with a tablet in hand, pretending to review data you can’t even focus on. The engineers around you shift awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable.
You sigh softly, setting the tablet down. “Alright,” you say, keeping your tone calm, professional. “Telemetry shows both of you were within a tenth of the same braking point. It was close, but no harm done.”
Both men glance at you, then at each other. Pierre’s jaw relaxes first. Esteban just exhales, muttering something under his breath before walking off.
Later, when you pass him in the hallway, he slows just slightly, his voice low. “You always did have a way of calming me down.”
You pause. “I just did my job.”
He smiles faintly. “You always say that.”
And before you can respond, he’s gone.
You stand there for a beat longer than you should, wondering when he started looking at you like that again — like he’s remembering something he’s not supposed to.
That night, after the race briefing, you’re helping the team review tire degradation models. Most of the crew has gone to dinner, the garage quiet except for the low hum of machinery.
Esteban walks in halfway through, half in uniform, hair still damp from the shower. He smiles when he sees you. “Burning the midnight oil?”
You look up, startled but composed. “Someone has to make sure your car doesn’t fall apart tomorrow.”
He chuckles, leaning against the counter beside you. “You haven’t changed at all.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You haven’t either. Still impossible to keep off the throttle.”
That earns a quiet laugh. Then, for a moment, it’s silent — until he looks at you again, softer this time.
“Do you ever think about… back then?”
The words hang heavy in the air.
You glance down at the monitor, fingers tightening around your stylus. “Sometimes,” you admit. “But mostly I try not to.”
He nods, lips pressing together, as if he’s trying to respect a boundary but can’t quite help himself. “I never forgot it,” he says quietly. “Any of it.”
You swallow hard. “Esteban—”
He shakes his head, forcing a small smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t make things weird. I just… needed to say that once.”
You meet his eyes, searching for something to hold onto — but all you find is honesty. The same honesty that once broke your heart.
And that’s when Pierre’s voice echoes from the door.
“Mon cœur?”
You spin around, relief and guilt crashing together all at once. Pierre’s standing there, smiling — unaware of what he just walked into. “They’re closing the hospitality lounge soon. Thought you’d want dinner before everything shuts down.”
You nod quickly. “Yeah. I just— I’ll grab my stuff.”
Esteban steps back, letting you pass. “Goodnight, YN.”
“Goodnight,” you murmur.
Pierre wraps an arm around your shoulders as you walk away, pressing a kiss to your temple. He talks about the new sim setup Alpine’s testing next week, but your mind’s somewhere else — replaying Esteban’s voice, his eyes, the weight of words you didn’t ask to hear.
The next morning, Pierre catches you staring absently at your tablet, lost in thought. He chuckles softly. “You’re zoning out again. Should I be jealous of the data?”
You laugh lightly, shaking your head. “You? Never.”
But something in your voice makes him look closer — a faint hesitation he knows too well.
He sets his hand over yours. “You okay?”
You blink, snapping out of it. “Yeah, just tired. Long week.”
He studies you for a moment longer but lets it go. “Alright. Just don’t burn yourself out. I need my favorite engineer at her best.”
You smile — genuinely this time — and lean up to kiss him. “Always.”
Still, later that afternoon, when Esteban’s car rolls into the garage after another strong session and you find yourself instinctively smiling at his feedback — that familiar warmth flickers again.
It’s nothing romantic. Not yet. Just history — the ghost of something that once mattered. But ghosts have a way of haunting the quiet places, the ones you thought were safe.
That night, after the race, Pierre finds you on the balcony of the hotel, sitting cross-legged with a glass of wine. The city glows below, soft and golden.
He joins you quietly, sliding an arm around your shoulders. “You were brilliant this weekend,” he murmurs. “Everyone’s saying you’ve changed the whole team dynamic already.”
You smile, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m just doing what I love.”
He hums softly, his thumb tracing circles on your arm. “Can I ask you something?”
You turn toward him. “Of course.”
“Are you sure you’re okay working with him?”
The question lands gently but hits deep. You look at him, surprised but not defensive. “Pierre…”
He shakes his head quickly. “I’m not angry, mon amour. I just see how he looks at you sometimes. And I know history isn’t something you can just switch off.”
You exhale slowly. “It’s complicated. But I promise — it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
He nods, kissing your forehead. “I believe you. I just needed to hear it.”
The two of you fall quiet again, the night wrapping around you like a secret. Still, when you finally go to bed, your dreams are full of overlapping voices — Pierre’s laughter, Esteban’s quiet confessions, and your own heart caught somewhere in between.
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There was a tension you could almost taste in the air — a subtle, humming current that ran through the Alpine garage every time the three of you were in the same room. Weeks had passed since the first time the walls between you, Pierre, and Esteban had cracked, and in that time, it had only gotten harder to pretend.
The jokes between the two Frenchmen had softened. The teasing glances lasted too long. When Esteban smiled at you during debriefs, Pierre’s jaw would tighten almost imperceptibly. When you touched Pierre’s hand under the hospitality table, Esteban’s voice would falter mid-sentence. You were all trying to play it off — to keep things professional, light, normal — but there was nothing normal about the way your heart jumped at both of them.
It wasn’t just attraction anymore. It was history and possibility and something you didn’t have words for.
But then, the whispers started.
First, it was someone in comms mentioning that Esteban’s manager had been seen talking with another team. Then, the murmurs spread — that he might be in talks for a 2026 seat elsewhere. The minute you heard, your chest went tight.
You found him after hours, sitting in the quiet of the paddock, the light from the motorhome glowing faintly behind him.
“Are you really leaving?” you asked, voice soft but trembling.
Esteban didn’t look at you right away. “You shouldn’t have heard it like that.”
“That’s not a no.”
He sighed, looking down at his hands. “I just think it might be best. For everyone.”
Pierre arrived just then — still in his Alpine jacket, hair slightly messy, expression tight with worry. “So it’s true?”
Esteban’s laugh was hollow. “Depends on what version you’ve heard. That I’m leaving? That I can’t take this anymore?” His eyes flickered between the two of you. “Maybe both.”
You stepped closer. “If it’s because of me—”
“It’s not just you,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “But you’re part of it. You both are.” His voice cracked slightly. “Every time I try to tell myself it’s fine, that I can move on, one of you looks at me like that and—”
Pierre’s voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it. “Like what?”
“Like I’m still wanted.”
That broke something in the air.
You felt tears sting the corners of your eyes as you reached for him. “Because you are, Esteban. You always have been.”
Pierre stepped closer too, his tone raw. “We didn’t mean to hurt you. None of this was supposed to happen like this.”
Esteban finally looked at you both, eyes full of a thousand unspoken things. “I still have feelings for you,” he said softly, looking at you. “But it’s not just that anymore. Somewhere along the way, I started feeling something for him too.” His eyes flicked toward Pierre, hesitant but honest. “And that’s the part that scares me the most.”
Pierre froze. You could see his breath catch.
“Esteban…” he whispered. “You should’ve told me.”
“How was I supposed to?” Esteban asked, voice breaking. “You’re my teammate, my friend, and you’re with her. I wasn’t going to destroy what you two have. I thought the only way to make it stop was to leave.”
You shook your head, stepping closer. “No. No, you’re not leaving. Not because of this, not because of us. I’ll quit before I let you do that, Esteban. You don’t run from people you care about.”
Pierre reached out then — one hand on your shoulder, the other tentatively brushing against Esteban’s arm. “We’ll figure it out. Somehow.”
For a moment, the three of you just stood there in silence — the night still around you, the tension slowly melting into something gentler.
You could see it in all your eyes — the exhaustion, the fear, the longing. None of you had the answers, but for the first time, there was honesty.
“I don’t know what this is,” Esteban said softly.
“Neither do we,” you admitted. “But it’s real. And that’s enough for now.”
Pierre nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “We’ll make it work. All of us.”
And somehow, in that dim corner of the paddock, where everything should’ve fallen apart — it felt like the three of you were finally starting to put it back together.
୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
The sun crept through the blinds of your Monaco apartment, cutting soft golden lines across the rumpled sheets. It was too quiet — the kind of stillness that came after something irreversible.
Pierre was the first to stir. You could feel him shift behind you, his hand finding your waist instinctively, thumb tracing small circles against your skin. On the other side, Esteban exhaled softly, the warmth of his body still close enough to feel. The three of you hadn’t meant for last night to end like that — with confessions and tears and then, somehow, a quiet comfort that had led here.
It wasn’t messy or rushed. It was just… human. Honest.
For a long moment, no one said anything. You could hear the distant hum of the city waking up outside, but none of you moved.
Finally, Esteban broke the silence. “We’re really bad at ignoring things, huh?”
Pierre let out a tired laugh against your shoulder. “Très mauvais.”
You smiled faintly but didn’t open your eyes. “I don’t think ignoring it was ever going to work. Not with us.”
Esteban turned slightly, looking at you both — his expression a mix of wonder and uncertainty. “Last night felt like something we shouldn’t have done… but I don’t regret it.”
You met his gaze, heart squeezing. “Neither do I.”
Pierre nodded slowly, sitting up just enough to look at both of you. “We needed it. To stop pretending. To stop running from it.”
You could see the conflict in Esteban’s face — the professional side of him already worrying, calculating the consequences. “We still have to race together. Work together. This doesn’t just go away because we feel something.”
Pierre reached for him then — just a hand on his arm, grounding. “Then we don’t let it ruin that. We talk, we trust, we protect each other. We’ve always done that, haven’t we?”
Esteban looked down at where Pierre’s hand rested against his skin. “Yeah. We have.”
The room went quiet again. You sat up between them, pulling the sheets closer around your chest, your voice gentle but firm. “We don’t have to label it. We don’t even have to explain it yet. But none of us should keep pretending this doesn’t matter. You’re both too important to me for that.”
Pierre’s hand found yours. Esteban’s followed, hesitant at first, but then sure. Three sets of fingers intertwined, warm and trembling and real.
“I don’t know how this works,” Esteban said softly. “I’ve never… done this.”
“Neither have we,” you said, smiling a little through the ache in your chest. “But maybe we don’t need to have it figured out yet. Maybe it’s enough to just care.”
Pierre squeezed both your hands, his expression soft. “Then that’s what we do. We care. We try.”
Outside, the sun had fully risen now — light spilling over the balcony, catching in Esteban’s hair, glinting off the curve of Pierre’s jaw. You wanted to freeze the moment — the fragile peace of it, the quiet understanding that something had shifted between the three of you.
୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
It had been weeks since everything changed — since the three of you stopped running from the truth and decided to start building something together. Somehow, it worked.
The tension had turned to quiet comfort, the uncertainty into trust. You found a rhythm — morning coffees before briefings, stolen touches in the Alpine garage when no one was looking, long nights filled with laughter and shared exhaustion. For the first time in years, Esteban looked lighter. Pierre couldn’t stop smiling. And you? You were exactly where you were meant to be.
Race day came with the kind of buzz that only happens when everyone knows it’s going to be special. The car setup was perfect. The strategy was clean. The energy in the garage was magnetic.
“Big day, mon cœur?” Pierre asked that morning, slipping behind you and kissing your temple as you checked over data one last time.
“Big day,” you said with a grin. “Let’s make it count.”
He winked. “For you? Always.”
Esteban passed by, catching the exchange, and laughed softly. “You two are ridiculous,” he teased — but the fondness in his tone betrayed him.
“Just jealous,” Pierre shot back.
“Maybe,” Esteban said under his breath, and the three of you shared one last look before helmets went on and engines roared to life.
By the time lights went out, your pulse was hammering louder than the crowd. You watched from the pit wall, headset on, voice calm but heart racing as the two Alpines held strong — lap after lap, strategy after strategy executed flawlessly.
And then it happened. P1 and P2. Across the line. Side by side.
For a moment, the world went silent — and then it erupted. Screams, cheers, blue and pink confetti bursting through the air. You were on your feet before you even realized it, laughter breaking out of you, tears slipping down your cheeks as you pulled off your headset.
They were both out of the cars within seconds, sprinting toward you — still in their helmets, adrenaline burning in their eyes. You barely had time to brace yourself before Pierre swept you up, spinning you around as Esteban wrapped his arms around both of you from behind.
You could hear the crowd roaring louder, camera flashes bursting all around. But none of you cared. Not about the optics, not about the questions that would come later.
Just this. Your boys, their victory, your team.
Esteban pressed his forehead against yours, both of you laughing breathlessly, Pierre’s hand still at your waist. “We did it,” he said, voice rough with disbelief.
“No,” you smiled, “you did it.”
“We,” Pierre corrected softly, eyes gleaming. “All of us.”
You watched them climb the podium a few minutes later, side by side under the French flag, champagne spraying into the air. You’d seen so many podiums before, but none had ever felt like this. The pride in your chest was overwhelming.
Pierre caught your eye from the top step, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. Esteban’s gaze found yours too, softer but just as full of emotion. He reached over and bumped Pierre’s shoulder — a small, unspoken thank you that said more than words ever could.
Later that night, when the celebrations died down and the cameras were gone, you found yourselves curled up in your hotel room — still wearing their Alpine shirts, smelling faintly of champagne and sweat and victory.
Pierre was on one side, his arm slung lazily over your stomach. Esteban lay on your other side, fingers laced with yours, his head resting against your shoulder. The air was quiet, warm, and safe.
“Never thought I’d see the day we’d all end up like this,” Esteban murmured, voice half-asleep.
Pierre chuckled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not,” Esteban said softly, smiling into your skin. “It’s perfect.”
You turned your head just enough to press a kiss to his forehead, then another to Pierre’s hand. “It really is,” you whispered.
Outside, the streets glittered against the night — the city alive with celebration, the sound of laughter still echoing faintly from below.
But inside that quiet hotel room, the three of you had everything you’d ever wanted. Love, peace, and the soft, infinite warmth of finding your way back to each other. And for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like a beginning or an ending. It just felt right.
୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
pierregasly
liked by yourusername, estebanocon, alpinef1team and 2,350,000 others.
pierregasly : i really love this team 🩷
tagged : estebanocon and yourusername
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user has disabled comments on this post.
୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
hey!!!
so I was thinking of doing a little thing for the 25 days of christmas, like an advent calendar. I completely understand that not everyone celebrates (I don't, in fact) but I thought it would be a fun way to get some fics out.
each one would revolve around the same theme, soft/hard launching, and there would be 25 days (20 days for each current driver, probably a throuple for jack and Franco; then days for retired drivers, probably: Daniel, Seb, Jenson, Nico R, Mark).
i was wondering if anyone would enjoy seeing these! most of them wouldn't have any religious themes (I was planning to do maybe 3-4 with something) but moreso using 25 days to motivate myself.
thoughts? excitement?
should I do it?
yes!!!
no :(
lando +0.406 on charles i see you
(ily too charles!!!)
my lovey - gr63
summary: yn somehow turns into george's lucky charm after she comes for his race win in Canada...but by the time they reach Singapore, is she still his lucky charm?
notes: GEORGE WON AT SINGAPORE!!!!
masterlist | writing tag
liked by brother, yourbff, fernandoalo_oficial, and 319 others!
youruser when in Canada ... 🍁
view all comments:
yourbff ugh cutie cattt
↳ youruser you get the vision !!! 😼
yourfriend um canada who???
↳ youruser dw home is calling my name soon, this is for my bro<3
brother what did we say about stray cats 🤦
↳ youruser DID YOU KNOW I ADORE YOU 🤭 ↳ brother girl just stop touching them...
lance_stroll do as the (cool) Canadians do :)
↳ youruser hi lance!!! it was super nice to meet you ❤ ↳ lance_stroll same!
user1 who the hell is this girl and why is THE Fernando Alonso in her pics???
↳ user2 sameeee I need to know!!
yourfriend2 girlie baby pop is that who I think it is
↳ youruser I don't meet and tell 🤭 ↳ youruser (yesss - bro got tickets!!)
fernandoalo_oficial are you coming to the paddock as well?
↳ youruser sí! and thank you for hosting us again, we always have so much fun! good luck!!! ↳ brother sometimes I wonder if you like her more than me ↳ youruser is that even a question? ↳ fernandoalo_oficial ;)
user4 ARE YOU GOING TO THE GP???
↳ youruser 🤭
user3 new vlog soon???
↳ youruser yessss!!! it's a Canada one + studying while not at home ❤
liked by lando, georgerussell63, alex_albon, fernandoalo_oficial, and 542 more!
youruser make it last forever, friendship never ends ... wrap for Canada and I made some new friends ... wonder who those boys in the last pic are 🤭
view all comments:
yourbff so hey babes I know that wasn't your og caption !!!
↳ youruser true I was going to make it "i'm gold + you're silver = we're forever" but then Nando didn't get a podium ... 🙃 ↳ yourbff or you could've used the silver for that fine boy in the last pic I know you wanted it ↳ youruser THIS IS PUBIC HEYYYY
user5 WANNABE SPICE GIRLS MENTION???
↳ youruser I got to meet geri today omg omg OMG
user6 what do you mean she casually just KNOWS Alonso ...
↳ user7 her brother and him were childhood friends I think :) ↳ youruser yep!!! bro and Nando were thick as thieves and I was their favorite target ... let me tell you, the amount of eggs I got in my hair was no joke
user8 they really be letting anyone into grand prixs at this point
yourfriend2 so that vlog is a need not must babes xx
↳ youruser YOU BETTER BE READY CAUSE I MET A SPICE GIRL ❤
user9 I just love her energy omg
↳ youruser aww you're the sweetest ❤
lando where are you
↳ lando george is insisting we wait hurry up parties await ↳ user10 Lando?!?! ↳ user11 oh to have Lando norris comment on your insta post...
brother where are you
↳ brother I know I didn't lose you?! ↳ youruser i'm being social just like you asked 🤭 ↳ brother YN cmon
user12 pls expose some of you and Fernando ...
georgerussell63 it was really nice to meet you 😊
↳ youruser same Georgie!!! ❤
user13 I swear if she gets together with one of the drivers just because she knows Nando ... rip this sport god
yourfriend I EXPECT A FULL DEBRIEF TOMORROW MORNING
↳ youruser yessss OMGGG (I feel famous idk what to say why did my followers bounce up to 1k??? and on yt I gained a good 3k???)
youruser [I was asked to expose - here you go!!!] [partying ❤] [I found more baby nando!!!]
story replies:
fernandoalo_oficial come join the dance
↳ youruser !!!
brother DO NOT GET BLACKOUT
↳ youruser of cim not evn durnek ↳ brother 🤦 ↳ brother also where did you even find these? ↳ youruser i'll send later!!!
georgerussell63 hi yn - sorry just wanted to check, did you get to your room okay?
↳ youruser yep! thank you for checking ❤ hope you had fun! ↳ georgerussell63 I did, you? ↳ youruser ofc because I was with you 🤭
georgerussell63 has requested to follow — accepted.
liked by yourbff, brother, georgerussell63, and 695 others!
youruser bits and pieces from my vlog — a tired uni student xx
view all comments:
yourbff damn you bagged a baddie 😏
↳ youruser ??? I mean the coffee was good yeah ↳ yourbff not what I meant babes xx ↳ youruser OH OH OH he was showing me around after the race idiot bc my stupid fugly brother and nando escpaed together 🤭
user14 VLOG SOoon???
↳ youruser VLOG OUT IN A DAY !!!! ❤ ↳ user15 thanks bae you the best <333 ↳ youruser I live for the people (and exams) 🤭
lando oh...
↳ alex_albon this explains so much ↳ lando EXPLAIN URSELF GEORGIE ↳ youruser do I get to know or...
georgerussell63 glad you enjoyed that ricotta cake 😊
↳ youruser I did omg THANK YOU SO SO SO much for paying 💙 ↳ georgerussell63 of course I did, do you know if you're still free? ↳ youruser texted you 🤭
yourfriend2 baby pop is that... a BLUE heart??? you've busted it out already??
↳ youruser pls this is public 😭
uer16 i'm getting VIBES between george and yn ...
user17 please George don't go for her, you don't need to ruin this sport more...
↳ user9 listen this is her personal page, go talk sht somewhere else !!!
user18 QUEENIE IS UPLOADING AGAIN???
↳ youruser YES ❤ i'm so sorry uni's been kicking my butt and then the whole thing with nando but i'm back!!!
user19 ugh I need your life
↳ youruser thank you <3 but just a reminder that I have my hard things too!!!
user20 who is she trying to trick that she has a hard life ...
↳ user21 I know she seems like a fancy influencer but don't forget that she's not that popular - she talked about how she's paying for school and things herself + she was nearly homeless a year ago. don't joke and say "oh she's rich", she's said before that most of her nice things come from her brother anyway (and they've got like a giant gap, so)
yourfriend i'm in my missing you hours x
↳ youruser right back at you lets meet up 🤭
liked by youruser, alex_albon, lando, and more!
georgerussel63 AND P3 IN HUNGARY!!! both of us in the points - congrats to Kimi! I think there's been a lucky charm in the garage 💙
view all comments:
kimi.antonelli yes, push time mate! 💪
↳ user21 help kimi's little comments on george's posts are always so good
lando HURYR P TEH CLUB IS WIATNG
↳ user22 well they definitely don't waste any time going to the club...
youruser georgie 💙 maybe I should come to races more often, podiums seem to call my name 🤭
↳ georgerussell63 I was told to never say "no" to a pretty girl ... 💙 ↳ youruser oh hehe I love that quote ↳ georgerussell63 just for you 💙
user23 okay George Russell I WAS NOT AWARE OF YOUR GAME???
user30 i NEED to be between this guy's thighs ...
user31 lucky charm I read ??? 👀
user24 wait is this the girl who came to the Canada GP?
↳ user25 yeah she is, her brother is alonso's friend right? ↳ user26 as a gr63 girl I love when she comes to races because he gets podiums, as a gr63 girlie I hate when she comes because he's just so obsessed with her... ↳ user27 real 😭 but also is this the first time she's come with HIM and not fernando?? ↳ user28 i think it is!!
brother so this is who she's been texting...
mercedesamgf1 GET IT GEORGE 💪 💙🤍
↳ user29 merc admin has my heart haha
youruser [guess where i'm flying!]
liked by brother, georgerussell63, yourbff, and 1,239 others!
youruser pov: studying, traveling, and almost winning x (maybe I need to be a better lucky charm?)
view all comments:
brother go back to being a brat, I don't need your sappiness
↳ youruser wow I love you too ❤
georgerussell63 you're the most perfect lucky charm, you don't need to change in any way 💙
↳ youruser GEORGEEE 😭💙 ↳ youruser seeing you up there was amazing and I know that next time I come you'll be on the top step, I don't doubt you for a second lovey 💙
yourbff so i'm guessing the new vlog has crochet in it.. (yay free patterns and clothes!!!)
↳ youruser i've been travelling so much now I have so much time but baku was simply lovely 🤭 ↳ yourfriend2 I SEE YOU
user32 i love how her likes go up every time she posts, you can really see the f1 and gr63 fans finding her lol
user33 those sunglasses are >>>
↳ youruser ahh thank youuu ❤ they're from dior if you'd like them (we all say "thank you Fernando" in unison)
lando 😏
↳ youruser hold your horses buddy ↳ youruser George has been telling me STORIES
liked by georgerussell63, fernandoalo_oficial, and 2,763 others!
youruser he's a winner, on and off the track 💙 he's my lovey 🤭
view all comments:
georgerussell63 the real prize was you 💙 always proud to be your lovey
↳ youruser ahh georgieee 💙💙💙
alex_albon happy for you Georgie porgie ;)
↳ lando samesies but don't forget about us !
user34 if we may say ... he's a fine man
↳ youruser indeed 🤭
fernandoalo_oficial he better treat you well - he can remember who he races with. glad you are happy yn
↳ youruser Fernando 😭 thank you for being bro's friend, because you're just a great one to have <3
user35 you don't understand, her and Fernando are so special to me!
brother he better be treating you well ...
↳ youruser it's almost like you and fernando have shared one brain cell since birth ... he's great ❤
yourbff yk I take great pride in this, especially since I rly needed to convince you to go to Canada
↳ youruser well thank you babes for telling me that business school can't be my only love, ily2tm&b ❤ ↳ yourbff the moon and back is all you babsies <333
user36 oh to be her... or him... or do they need a third?
↳ user37 I CAN BARK I CAN MEOW ↳ youruser I don't share my boy toys sorry not sorry 🤭 ↳ youruser wait is that a song ... can it be a song?
user44 honestly she's so chaotic but so perfect for George!
user46 vlog soon? ☹
↳ youruser ITS COMING !!!!!!!!!! ❤
liked by lando, and others!
teamgeorgerussell here are some of George's radios at the end of the race! we'd say yn is one lucky girl ❤
view all comments:
user38 "simply amazing" ??? are you trying to be max George???
user39 this is so cute 😭
user40 need myself a man like this 🙏 yn you are a queen and I love your vloggssss
user41 uh lando in the likes??? dude go party your p3... /affectionate <3
user42 seriously, no thanks to the team? 💀 his priorities really shifted with her
↳ user39 or maybe ... its his girlfriend? he literally say amazing job everyone right before?
user43 some of yall need to get off your phones + para social relationships bc wtf...
user45 theyre so cute ugh.
youruser he's my lovey too 💙
↳ lando I KNEW YOU WERE HERE ↳ youruser kindly be quiet and go back to moping and drinking lando 🤭 ↳ lando why do I even try to be nice to you ...
georgerussell63 what can I say 😊 💙
↳ youruser loveyyyy 💙
user47 i feel like Marcus is going to start hating his job soon
↳ user48 who's marcus? ↳ user49 i think it's george's engineer no? ↳ user47 it is! I feel like George is the kind of person to gush all about yn, so Marcus is going to have such a fun time on the radio...
youruser [he's my, my, myyyy...lovey 💙]
fin. i hope you enjoyed ❤
mi bebé - ln4
summary: lando has been thirsting over yn sainz's Instagram for who-knows-how-long — and it's been rumored that they used to date. but the real question is, how does yn respond?
smau & written
notes: lando x Sainz!reader :) this is a bit heavy on the insta stories, sorry
dedications: to everyone, omg! that you for so much support on paper rings because I had such a blast writing it & i'm so glad that everyone enjoyed it so much!
masterlist | writing tag
ynsainz [ready to win 🥹 mi hermano]
story replies:
carlossainz55 yn ❤
↳ ynsainz Carlitos 🥹🥹
lando very cute but you're cuter 😻
↳ ynsainz por favor lando 💀 not on carlos's post ↳ lando can't help it you so pretty 😩 feeling so wet wanna come to my drivers room? ↳ ynsainz LANDO. ↳ lando bebé 😻
iamrebeccad muyyy guapo 🔥
↳ ynsainz bbg 🥹 (not under my post pls and thanks)
lando hermosaaa
lando please just one chance 🙏
williamsracing our driver looking good ✨
↳ ynsainz am I still your favorite admin? ↳ williamsracing maybe... (siempreeeee yn supremacy) ↳ ynsainz ay dios mío ily admiiiin
liked by lando, carlossainz55, iamrebeccad, and more!
ynsainz weekly happenings ❤
view all comments:
lando zoo we mama gorgina 😻
↳ ynsainz lando...
user1 how have I never beaten lando to one of her posts...
↳ user2 he MUST have notifs on (we know he does) bc there's no other way... ↳ user1 YOU GET IT
user3 love an engineering sister!!!
↳ user4 she's an engineer? ↳ user5 she went to BarcelonaTech (Universitat Politècnica de Catalunya) for school! her official role is that she works for ferrari in f2, but there's been talks of her moving to f1 (she's also been spotted around the garage more) ↳ user6 probably only got it because of the name ↳ user5 actually she applied without her full name. no nepotism with her!
user9 lando so desperate it's almost sad
user8 is it... A MAN REVEAL????
↳ ynsainz 🫣
user10 her soft-launch era >>>
alex_albon I NEED carlos's bad pics
↳ ynsainz sending rn Alex bbg
lando what do you need mamá
↳ ynsainz for you to stop stalking me 🫶 ↳ lando but you so hot I cant help myself ↳ ynsainz hold it for the bed or for never ↳ lando YES MAAM YES MAAM
user11 honestly her and lando is a need not want xxx
alexandrasaintmleux cutie cutie pie
↳ ynsainz right back at you loml ↳ ynsainz tell Charles that you're mine!!! ↳ alexandrasaintmleux RUNNING 🏃
lando mi bebé !!!
user7 pls tell ferrari not to fuck up charles' strat
↳ ynsainz i'll try bbg but no promises! ↳ user7 YN ↳ ynsainz hiiii ❤
user11 manifesting lanyn reveal 🕯
carlossainz55 ❤
↳ ynsainz carlitos!!! ↳ carlossainz55 is he treating you well? ↳ ynsainz so well ❤
iamrebeccad 👀
↳ ynsainz 🥹 ↳ iamrebeccad dinner? ↳ ynsainz dinner!!!
user12 bet lando is sobbing in bed now...
user13 mysterious man who DOESNT look like lando? 👀
user14 why are you saying its not lando LOOK AT THE GUY ITS HIM
iamrebeccad [me and yn: power slay girls ✨]
story replies:
carlossainz55 have fun stay safe and love you ❤
↳ iamrebeccad siempre Carloso!!!
ynsainz power girlsssss 🥹 liked by author
lando YN MAMÁ ugh she needs to come home 🫦
↳ iamrebeccad !!! get your horny ass off my story and into your bed ↳ lando only if yn comes home to me ↳ iamrebeccad she's a grown women landito ↳ lando I think she has me blocked 😥 ↳ iamrebeccad serves you write you freaky cunt ↳ lando none of you are any help... all I want is my little bébé
user16 QUEENS
There’s an awkward feeling in your belly as you wake up the next morning, somehow back in your Monaco apartment—how did you even end up back here? Last you knew, you’d been partying with Rebecca and had been having the time of your life—shots with random people, kissing, dancing—and yet, somehow, you were back here.
In a place you’d consider home if it just felt more belonging rather than something out of a magazine.
Sure, you’d personalized it, but it still lacked personality and feel beyond the basics you’d put up. The only part that truly felt yours was your bedroom-slash-workroom, complete with F1 and Carlos posters (and maybe even a small one of Lando somewhere), polaroids hung all over the walls, and engineering and other textbooks that you’d bought over the years.
This was your work, this was your life—just like every driver’s dream was to be a driver for Ferrari, your dream had been to have Maranello in your veins, to be a car engineer.
And you’d made it, done it—but not without sacrifice.
You didn’t have anyone to wake up to every day, not like you used to dream of. Most boys didn’t see past the glamor and glitz of Formula One, and they wanted you for your job—or, worse, they didn’t even try to figure out weekends.
The closest you got was Lando, who would sometimes stay the night and force you to play FIFA and other random videogames until you’d fallen asleep, the void inside you filled for a while.
Before, you jokingly called them “date nights” until Rebecca once stopped you and said, “I think Lando thinks they’re actual dates.”
It had been hard, but you’d done your best to pull yourself away from him a bit—but that didn’t stop his comments and thirsting on social media, the same thing he’d done for years.
A random smell pulls you out of your musings—waffles, it must be.
And never let it be said you don’t like waffles.
Still clad in scanty red-rosso corsa pajamas, you slip outside of the room and into the kitchen—just to freeze.
Yes, there are waffles on your favorite plate and a glass of orange juice, looking freshly squeezed and all calling for you. But there’s also a guy working the waffle machine—Lando.
“Hi.” The word falls out of your mouth, softer than a breath.
“Hey,” he looked up, not looking too surprised, “good night last night?”
“Yeah…” It feels wrong to say with him here, again, just like it used to be—like the picture you’d posted of them in the car. “Listen, I—”
“I—” he says at the same time.
You both laugh. It lightens the atmosphere as you climb into your seat, starting to pick at the waffles. You nearly moan at the first taste—they’re so good.
Obviously Lando knows this too, since he’s looking at you with a knowing expression. “You can go first,” he offered eventually.
“Thanks, Landito.” You take a sip of the orange juice. “Well, I wanted to say thank you for this—”
“You’re very welcome,” he interrupts with a wink.
“Lando. But beyond that—um, I wanted to say sorry.”
“For?” he frowns. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Ay dios mío, you think. “I’m sorry for pushing you away,” you start, trying to be honest, “and posting that picture of us.”
“You don’t think I enjoy messing with Carlos?” he teases, “it’s all fine, bebé.”
“Are you sure?” you don’t expect to feel as anxious as you do, but it’s the simplicity of all it that lets your feelings bleed into your tone.
“Very,” he grins, “but if you ever want to make it up to me, it’s been a while since I’ve tasted your lips. Still using cherry lip gloss?”
“Landito,” you laugh, leaning forward over the table and pressing a kiss to his lips.
It feels like home, in a way.
Like finding your love all over again.
ynsainz [pov: random British boy stalked you all the way to the airport when you're trying to go home]
story replies turned off.
liked by lando, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and more!
ynsainz clocking them work hours 💪
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user no mystery man today ☹
↳ ynsainz I know, so sad, but he needs to work too 💔
carlossainz55 te amo!!!
↳ ynsainz carlitos ❤
lando who is that handsome guy...
↳ lando and FUCKING SMOKING HOT GIRLLLLL ↳ ynsainz thank you landitooo
lando whats off...oops where are my fireproofs? do you know where they are, bebé
↳ carlossainz55 lando. norris.
user18 lando watch your days !!! carlos is after you!!! (stop them freaky messages babe)
user17 oh she answered lando I BET HES FREAKING OUT (but she's getting laid by a guy that's definitely....no him. no wonder she's happy)
lando what oh what can I do for you to go on a real date with me 😩
↳ ynsainz in a good mood- if Carlos gets a podium, fuck yeah why not ↳ lando brb going to let him pass ↳ mclaren no, lando!
user19 dang even the McLaren admin is cockblocking lando
user20 the little bear 🥹
↳ ynsainz it was a gift from mi amor 🥹
user21 REAL date? 👀 meaning there were "fake" dates before???
↳ user22 you onto something!
f1 our favorite Ferrari engineer 💪
↳ ynsainz gracias admin!! ❤
user25 didn't you softlaunch? ... why are you agreeing to a date for a man that's not your bf?
liked by lando, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and more!
ynsainz my home race, you were great ❤ a podium for my darling Carlito — I always have been proud to be your sister but these moments just cement in in my mind. podium at williams!!! te amo mucho carlos 🥹 and lando and Charles podium — can't tell you how many times I've wished for this trio up on this podium! landito, congrats on the race win, you deserve it and more. and Charles, amazing drive— so happy that c2 and carlando have been reunited once more ;) we'll be back next year, españa!
view all comments:
lando aweee bebé ☹ I am now crying if you want to lick away them tears 👅
↳ ynsainz lando... ↳ lando joshing joshing- ily and thank you for everything - and i'm waiting for the promised date 😻 ↳ ynsainz tomorrow, amor ❤
user22 I thought that yn was seeing someone? didn't she soft-launch???
↳ user23 no one knows- and everyone is wondering if it''s lando... ↳ user24 maybe they broke up?
carlossainz55 thank you yn 🥹 también te amo <33 liked by author
charles_leclerc always a pleasure, yn!
↳ ynsainz thank you Charles ❤ amazing drive today!!!
maxverstappen1 I see lando's getting you...
↳ ynsainz shh, max! ↳ user25 queen yn responding to max in the year 2025? ↳ ynsainz listen i'm a lady of the people- and I say the people are wanting some versainz content ↳ user26 ugh ily
alex_albon you've fallen from grace girl, don't let lando win liked by author.
user27 ugh to be a Ferrari engineer and the sister of Carlos...
user28 so she's a cheating whore? going against her boyfriend for LANDO of all people?
user29 do we even know if she HAS a boyfriend? we're all talking as if she does but she obviously agreed to lando's date thing. the picture could've been friends or an old thing; if anything, the guy there looks like LANDO- it could be a hint.
user30 loml you so pretty
↳ ynsainz thank you bbg 🥹
iamrebeccad carlosss
↳ ynsainz our carlitossss ❤
You see it happening almost in slow-motion—Lando has been second most of the race, just behind Oscar, and Charles rounds off their top ten, but then Lando gets a nice overtake, smoothly curving around Oscar, and then Charles capitalizes on an extremely short pit stop and undercut (one you’re very jealous of, even if it’s your own garage—to do that for your F2 drivers would be a privilege and you’re very excited to finally get to join the pit-crew soon) to overtake Oscar.
Oscar’s in third.
At the same time, Carlos jumped up to sixth at the beginning of the race and had been there most of the time, switching back-and-forth with Max. It almost feels like being back in 2015, watching the two of them in practices and races.
But Max gets unlucky with a slow pit stop and it lets Carlos jump up and overtake George Russel’s Mercedes, placing him squarely in fourth.
It’s close—he’s close to Oscar.
Your heart thuds in your ribs as, in La Caixa on lap 65 of 66, Carlos manages to get past Oscar and hold him off for one more lap.
Your gasp of relief, of excitement, of joy, is swallowed by the Ferrari cheers.
It’s one of the only podiums you’ve ever prayed for—sure, you’ve hoped for others, but this is one of your dreams.
Lando’s P1, Charles P2, and Carlos—Carlos, your amazing brother, the one you’ve grown up with, the one who taught you and guided you and supported you on the paddock and off—is in P3, his first podium with Williams and the first of this year.
You’re laughing, you’re smiling, you’re cheering—it’s your home race.
It’s a Carlos podium and it’s your home race—
Well, you better start getting ready for the “real date” you’d promised Lando.
It’s been a good day. Te amo mucho, you think to the TV, showing the three men spraying each other in champagne.
liked by lando, carlossainz55, iamrebeccad, charles_leclerc, and more!
ynsainz seven years next may — seven years since we first met, six years since we first kissed, five years since we first whispered “I love you,” four years since we were torn apart and I lost you, three years since redoing the whole friends thing, two years since finding ourselves, and one year since falling in love again. it’s been a hell of a ride landito but it’s been ours, siempre ❤ I don’t need to hide you or our love or be worried ever again — te amo mucho, mi amor.
tagged: lando
comments have been limited:
carlossainz55 took you long enough ❤
↳ iamrebeccad we're very happy for you, darling! only took seven years for you to find the love of your life- and to stay with him forever ↳ ynsainz Carlitos 🥹 Rebecca 🥹
lando mi bebé ❤
↳ ynsainz landito ❤
lando we look just so good together ! who is that I wonder?
↳ ynsainz god you're so hot can I fuck you? ↳ lando just say the word bebé. my driver's room is open
oscarpiastri as cute as you guys are, lets not do anything in the rooms yeah
alex_albon and they match each other's freaks!!! have fun- we've all known since day 1. liked by author, lando.
charles_leclerc and you've turned into a poet. we love you both - Alex & charles x liked by author.
lando always and forever bebé
↳ ynsainz siempre con tú
maxverstappen1 crazy to think that this was once the girl who ran to me after the race with demands to get lando's number. good for you, lando 👍 don't you dare hurt her. yn- you deserve a good life :)
↳ ynsainz max 🫶
lando [got the fucking girl, what about you? te amo mucho, mi bebé]
story replies turned off.
fin. this is a long one- 2.3k words! I hope you enjoyed reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it!
paper rings - cs55
summary: carlos and yn are the picture perfect relationship - until people start accusing yn of being a gold-digger. all's to say that carlos is NOT happy with it.
notes: ahhh my first f1 fic!!!! and happy birthday Carlos :)
dedications: to @harrysfolklore: your f1smaus are what got me into the whole genre + you never fail to make it hit, especially with red, you belong with me (one of my absolute favs!!!) and so many others ugh ur writing >>>
masterlist | writing tag
liked by youruser, lando, and 1.2 million others!
f1 who's here at the paddock but Carlos sainz and his girlfriend, yn ln! we love to see them here 💙
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youruser omg admin you got my heart 💖
↳ f1 no no no you got ours!!! ↳ user dang what's her issue with the red heart??? no shame but girl when have you used it...
lando it's not so funny when you're the one always thirdwheeling...
user22 girl showed up blinged out in Gucci, LV, Prada (I know that lipstick anywhere)
user2 blue suits both of them so well!!!
↳ user3 so true except i'll forever miss Carlos in ferrari red ↳ user4 i fear that yn ate it UP in red ↳ user5 so real 😩
user6 ugh I NEED that romper!
↳ user7 @ her personal page! she does q&a's every other Friday and she's always willing to share ↳ user8 what she needs to do is explain why her entire outfit is so costly...girl none of us are made of money ↳ user9 exactly! we can all tell you're milking Carlos for it!!!
user10 bet she moves onto lando or charles after carlos's bank account hits 0
liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, yourbff, and more!
youruser los días con mi corazón 💖 te amo mucho carlos!
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user12 they could never make me hate you
↳ youruser thank you bb 🥹
user11 when a man gets you blue flowers 😩
user13 does she think learning Spanish will get him to ignore the fact that she's using up his money or what?
user14 GOLDDIGGER
user15 holy shit and I thought I saw sluts b4...
charles_leclerc do I need to leave Alex those signs....asking for a friend
↳ youruser well technically its from yourbff but Carlos does love them hehe ↳ youruser Alex loves you but maybe a note or too will be nice ↳ alexandrasaintmleux awww sweetie ↳ youruser only the best for my bb ↳ alexandrasaintmleux back at you loml ↳ charles_leclerc i think we got abandoned carlossainz55 ↳ carlossainz55 indeed, cabrón
user17 get a life besides a wag, baby, maybe then you'll be interesting !
lilymhe dinner date is NEED not want xx
↳ youruser lils 🫣
carlossainz55 pretty girl pretty girl pretty girl 🥰 también te amo mucho
↳ youruser ily bb 💖
user16 holy guac her and carlos's comments are borrrriiinngggggg
user18 ahhh flowers I need flowers (cries in loneliness)
liked by youruser, lando, yourbff, and more!
carlossainz55 mi hermosa ❤
view all comments:
youruser un hombre muy guapo !!! 💖
↳ carlossainz55 solo para ti, mi amor
user19 ugh I love their little spanish moments
user20 get urself a man who looks at you like carlos looks at yn challenge: failed
user21 it's so obvious that she forced him to post this, god
user22 can't believe no one is saying this: yn is a GOLDDIGGER
↳ user23 exactly!!! wasn't she spotted at restaurant with charles a year ago? ↳ user24 what i'm sayinnnnn ↳ carlossainz55 not respectfully, blocked. ↳ youruser if you're going to try to create drama, pick something real, please. that dinner (with charles AND ALEX) was a ferrari thing
user26 ugh what I would give to be her
↳ user26 or him i'm not picky !
user27 ew is that... yn? again? Carlos you can do so much better!!!
↳ user12 get over yourself- yn has been nothing but nice and this is how you act?
maxverstappen1 good that you remembered this was for instagram and not the groupchats 👍
user28 help not max's comment
user29 ew get away from her
user29 GOLD DIGGER
user27 she only wants you for your money Carlos!!!
liked by carlossainz55, lando, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and more!
youruser happy 31 mi amor 💖 some said you looked better in red, some said you looked better in blue, but the truth is you look better when you're just you. to many more years and to forever, mi corazón 🥹 i'd marry you with paper rings, nothing at all, or just our hearts, para siempre.
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user27 bet those presents are all for her...
carlossainz55 gracias mi hermosa ❤ siempre te amo mucho
↳ youruser ahh I'm going to cry carlos 🥹 siempre mi corazón y soy para siempre tuyo
user12 making me feel single ... but i'm so happy mum and dad are together!!!
↳ youruser thank you 🥰 hopefully you find the person of your dreams soon!
yourbff just came back from a no-phones trip and why do I find out everyone is calling you a GOLDDIGGER??? and happy bday Carlos I guess, f u for stealing her away from me watch out xx
↳ youruser tbh I have no idea? but I have you and Carlos and Alex and everyone so I am happy 💖
user30 GUYS WHY IS HER COMMENT SO SAD????!!
francolapinto pretty girl~
↳ youruser gracias Franco but I am all carlos's 🥹 ↳ francolapinto sí sí sí y feliz cumpleaños Carlos!
charles_leclerc should've stayed at Ferrari ... happy birthday carlos :)
↳ youruser just enjoy the post bb
user22 golddigger golddigger golddigger
user31 louder for those in the back: RUN DONT MARRY HER SHE WANTS YOUR MONEY CARLOS
carlossainz55 are those for me? 😩
↳ youruser sí, corazón ↳ carlossainz55 and the girl behind the camera? ↳ youruser always hehe ↳ carlossainz55 I am one lucky man ↳ your user indeed you are
lando take your flirting off main but also YAY CARLOS YOU OLD MAN
carlossainz55 dos anillos de papel coming right up
↳ youruser 😻
liked by youruser, yourbff, lando, charles_leclerc, and more!
carlossainz55 stay mad. she is and has always been mi hermosa, mi amor y mi corazón, no matter the name; yn has always been perfect for me and I have never doubted us nor our relationship. stop calling her names now- I will and have been very liberal with the block button. no, she is not forcing me to say this. I love her so I am telling you. y a yn, gracias por todo y te amo ❤
fin. ahhhh it's done!!! I hope you enjoyed !!! ❤
Bottas and Perez is actually such a good debut lineup for Cadillac
I was kind of expecting that they’d go down the route of them having an experienced driver and a rookie, but they’ve got two experienced drivers and quite high calibre ones at that
puzzle pieces - gr63
summary: a new strategist who happens to be a single mom of a five-year-old girl joins the mercedes team for the 2025 season, and george fits in their world like puzzle pieces. wc: 13.3k + social media posts
folkie radio: MY FIRST GEORGE LONG FIC !!! im not that confident about it but i really hope you like it ! let me know all of you thoughts
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
📍Melbourne, Australia
You're huddled in the darkest corner of the Mercedes garage in Melbourne, your silver shirt dampened with tears as you try to muffle your sobs. The Australian Grand Prix weekend has barely begun, but your heart is 16,000 kilometers away in London, where your five-year-old daughter Amelia is fighting a nasty fever. Your mother had called an hour ago - Amelia's temperature wasn't going down, and she kept asking for you between fitful naps.
The garage is a flurry of activity, with mechanics and engineers rushing around to prepare for the first practice session of the 2025 season. You know you should be at your station, going through the setup parameters with Kimi, who you'd worked with during his F2 championship run at Prema last year. The transition from F2 to Mercedes F1 had been smooth, largely because Kimi had practically begged the team to bring you along when they signed him. But right now, you feel like the worst mother in the world for being so far away from your baby girl.
"Hey, are you alright?"
The soft, distinctly British voice makes you jump. You quickly wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, mortified to find George Russell, your other driver, standing there with concern etched across his features. At 27, he's the same age as you, but while you're a mess of tears and worry, he looks immaculate in his race suit, the top half tied around his waist.
"I'm so sorry," you stammer, trying to compose yourself. "I'm being completely unprofessional. I should be with Kimi, going through his-"
"No, no, don't apologize," George interrupts, crouching down beside you. His eyes are kind, and there's genuine worry in his voice. "Kimi mentioned you seemed upset. He's worried about you too, kept asking if anyone had seen where his 'Team Mom' disappeared to."
You manage a weak laugh at that. Kimi had started calling you that in F2, and the nickname had stuck. "I should go find him, he'll be nervous about his first F1 weekend-"
"He's fine," George assures you. "What's wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?"
The kindness in his voice makes fresh tears well up in your eyes. "My daughter," you manage to say. "She's sick back home in London. She's only five, and I've never been away from her for so long, and now she has this fever that won't break, and I just-" Your voice cracks.
"I didn't know you had a little girl," George says softly. "What's her name?"
"Amelia," you reply, a small smile breaking through your tears at the thought of your daughter's bright brown eyes and untameable curls. "She was so excited when I got this job. She made me promise to bring home one of those tiny Mercedes model cars they give out during race weekends."
George smiles warmly. "I'm sure you have an amazing support system back home helping you out with her?"
You bite your lip, looking down at your hands. "It's just me and her, really. And well, my parents help when they can. I'm a single mum."
His expression shifts to one of deeper understanding. "Oh, I didn't know that. That must be really challenging, especially with a job like this."
"It is," you admit, wiping away another stray tear. "Most days I can handle it, you know? We have our routine, and Amelia's such a good girl. The team at Prema was amazing with her too, always making sure we could manage. But being so far away when she needs me..." You trail off, the lump in your throat growing bigger.
"Listen," George says, his voice gentle but firm. "Being a single parent in F1 is incredibly tough. I can't even imagine how you manage it all. But you're here, following your dreams, showing your daughter that anything is possible. That makes you an amazing mum."
You look at him, touched by his understanding. "It's just... I feel like I'm failing at both jobs right now. I should be focused on the race weekend, but all I can think about is Amelia."
"You're not failing at anything," he insists, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "And you know what? I bet Amelia is going to be so proud when she tells all her friends that her mum works for Mercedes F1. Speaking of which, we definitely need to get her one of those model cars. And maybe a signed cap too?"
You can't help but laugh through your remaining tears. "She'd love that. She's already telling everyone at school that she knows George Russell."
He grins, his eyes twinkling. "Well, now she actually does. Come on, let's get you some water, and you can tell me more about this little fan of mine. I've got some time before practice, and I'd love to hear about the girl who's apparently been spreading my fame in London playgrounds."
As you follow him toward the team's hospitality area, you feel a little lighter. Your worry about Amelia hasn't disappeared, but somehow, sharing it with someone who seems to genuinely care has made it a bit more bearable. Sometimes comfort comes from the most unexpected places, even from a Formula 1 driver in the corner of a garage in Melbourne.
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liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli and 987,487 others
f1 NEW ADDITION TO THE SILVER ARROWS!
Mercedes F1 Team welcomes YN as their newest Race Strategy Engineer for the 2025 season! The 27-year-old British engineer joins from Prema Racing, where she spent three years working on race strategy and simulation.
Fun facts about YN: First class honors in Mechanical Engineering from Imperial College London Started her motorsport journey as an intern at Sauber in 2020 She was key to Kimi Antonelli's championship last year (he even calls her "Team Mom") She's a mum to 5-year-old Amelia 👶 Youngest strategy engineer on the current Mercedes team
Welcome to the Silver Arrows family, YN! 💫
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username1 love seeing more women in F1! and a mum too, that's incredible!
username2 i already stan her so bad
mercedesmagf1 Welcome to the best team on the grid! 🏁
kimi.antonelli THATS MY TEAM MOM!
username3 impressive cv
username4 One of the minds behind Prema's brilliant season last year! Mercedes making smart moves for 2025
username5 Imperial College London grad 🤓 She's definitely got the brains for this!
username6 THIS DIVA
georgerussell63 Welcome to the team! 🌟
liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli and 54,098 others
yourinstagram First race weekend with @/mercedesamgf1 in the books! ✨
Still pinching myself that this is real. What an incredible start to the season: P3 for @/georgerussell63 and P4 for @/kimi.antonelli! Proud to be part of the team that made this result possible.
Special shoutout to everyone in the garage who made this rookie engineer feel so welcome (especially when I was having a bit of a mum meltdown missing my little one 🥺). The Silver Arrows family is real!
And to my little Amelia back home: Mummy's bringing back some very special presents from George and Kimi (aka Baby Driver) Thank you for being such a brave girl this weekend. You're the reason I push myself to achieve these dreams ❤️
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username1 AWE THIS IS SO CUTE
username2 her little girl must be adorable
georgerussell63 Couldn't have done it without you! See you in China (with presents for a certain little fan )
↳ username1 THE WAY HE SAID LITTLE FAN I'M CRYING
↳ username2 George is so sweet omg
mercedesamgf1 Silver Arrows family forever! 🌟
friend1 So proud of you! Amelia was screaming watching the podium 😂
username3 living the dream! you're such an inspiration!
username4 From one racing mum to another - you're crushing it! 💪🏼
username5 the way the entire F1 community is rooting for you
username6 I BET AMELIA CALLS KIMI BABY DRIVER AHH
kimi.antonelli love you team mom
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📍Shanghai, China
The Shanghai paddock is relatively quiet this early in the morning, and you've found a peaceful corner in the Mercedes hospitality area to have your breakfast while FaceTiming Amelia. She's excitedly showing you her school art project, a rather creative interpretation of a Mercedes F1 car, complete with glitter.
"And look, Mummy! I made George extra tall in the drawing!" she giggles, holding up her artwork where she's drawn a stick figure at least twice the size of the car.
You're in the middle of laughing when a familiar voice comes from behind you. "Did I hear someone say my name?"
Amelia's eyes go wide as George Russell himself appears in the frame, leaning over your shoulder with a warm smile, a coffee in hand.
"George!" Amelia squeals, pressing her face closer to the camera. "I drew you! You're really tall in my picture!"
George laughs, pulling up a chair beside you. "Well, I am quite tall in real life too! How are you feeling now, Amelia? All better?"
"Much better! I got a golden star at school yesterday for my maths!" She beams proudly. "And Sophie believes me now that my mummy knows you because I showed her my signed cap!"
"That's brilliant!" George responds enthusiastically. "You'll have to show me your maths skills sometime."
"Okay, sweetheart," you cut in, noticing the time. "You need to get ready for school now. Be good for Grandma, alright?"
"Okay, Mummy! Bye George! Good luck in the race!"
After you hang up, you can't help but smile at how Amelia has somehow managed to wrap one of Formula 1's top drivers around her little finger without even meeting him in person.
"You know," George says thoughtfully, taking a sip of his coffee, "why don't you bring her to one of the European races?"
You look up from your tea, surprised. "Oh, I... I hadn't really thought about it. I mean, I'd love to, but managing a five-year-old in the paddock while working..."
"Bring her to Silverstone," he suggests. "It's home race, your parents could come too. The team would love to meet her - she's practically our mascot now, the way Toto smiles whenever someone mentions 'George Russell's biggest fan.'"
You laugh, remembering how the team principal had been thoroughly amused by the story of Amelia's reaction to George's message. "She would absolutely lose her mind. She's been begging to see a real race."
"Then it's settled," George says with that characteristic Russell determination. "I'll talk to Toto about getting extra passes for your family. We can set her up in the garage with some headphones, show her the cars up close." He grins. "Plus, I need to see if she's as good at maths as she claims."
"George, you don't have to-"
"I want to," he interrupts gently. "You're part of the team now, and so is Amelia, in her own way. Besides," he adds with a playful smile, "I need to make sure my biggest fan gets the full Mercedes experience, don't I?"
You feel a warm glow in your chest, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, George. Really."
"Don't mention it," he says, standing up. "Now, how about you tell me more about this artwork where I'm apparently a giant? Should I be concerned about how I'm being portrayed to the next generation?"
As you describe Amelia's creative interpretation of the Mercedes team, complete with glitter and impossibly tall drivers, you find yourself looking forward to Silverstone more than ever. The thought of sharing your new world with your daughter, of seeing her eyes light up at the sight of the cars and meeting the team she's heard so much about... maybe George is right. Maybe it's time to bring your two worlds together.
"Oh, and YN?" George adds as he's about to head to the engineering briefing. "Tell Amelia to practice her maths. I'll be testing her when I see her."
You shake your head, laughing. Who would have thought that your daughter would end up with a Formula 1 driver as her personal maths tutor?
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📍Suzuka, Japan
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liked by username1, username2 and 10,985 others
f1updates Spotted: Mercedes driver George Russell grabbing coffee with the team's new strategy engineer YN outside the Suzuka paddock this morning. Could there be a new F1 couple on the horizon?
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username1 omg they look so cute together!! did you see how he's looking at her? 🥺
username2 okayy let's not be weird about this
username3 please chill out they're coworkers grabbing coffee
username4 she's the one who came from prema with kimi right? love seeing her settling in at mercedes!
username5 wait isn't she the single mom everyone was talking about during the melbourne weekend? when george was so sweet about her daughter being sick?
username6 kimi's team mom and george
username7 george russell 🤝 having excellent taste in both coffee and women
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The Bahrain paddock is eerily quiet at 1 AM, most of the team having retreated to their hotels hours ago. The gentle hum of your laptop and the occasional click of your mouse are the only sounds in the engineering room as you pore over tomorrow's race simulations for the hundredth time.
"You do know quali ended six hours ago, right?"
You jump slightly at George's voice. He's leaning against the doorframe, changed out of his race suit into casual wear, looking at you with concern.
"Just want to make sure we've covered all the scenarios for tomorrow," you mumble, stifling a yawn. "Your start position gives us a real chance at a win, I just need to-"
"YN," he interrupts softly, walking over to your desk. "It's 1 AM. The simulations will still be here in the morning."
You shake your head, forcing your tired eyes to focus on the screen. "I'm fine. I just need to run through these few more scenarios. Can't afford to miss anything."
George pulls up a chair, sitting beside you. "Can't afford to, or won't allow yourself to?"
Something in his gentle tone makes your carefully constructed walls crack a little. You sit back in your chair, running a hand over your face.
"I just... I need to prove I deserve this position," you say quietly. "I need this job, George. It's not just about the racing anymore. I have to put food on Amelia's table, pay for her school, her clothes, her future." Your voice catches slightly. "I'm all she has."
"What about her father?" George asks carefully, then immediately adds, "Sorry, that's none of my business-"
"No, it's okay," you say, surprising yourself. Maybe it's the late hour, or maybe it's just George's caring presence, but you find yourself wanting to talk. "He left when I told him I was pregnant. Said he wasn't ready to be a father, that it would ruin his career plans." You let out a bitter laugh.
George's expression darkens. "What a-" he catches himself, but you can guess the word he's thinking of.
"Yeah," you agree. "Anyway, he signed away his rights before she was born. Hasn't seen her once in five years. Doesn't pay any support." You fidget with your pen. "So it's just me. Every promotion, every extra hour, every bit of overtime, it all goes to giving her the life she deserves."
"YN," George says softly, placing a gentle hand on your arm. "You're already giving her an amazing life. You're showing her what strength looks like, what dedication looks like. But you can't pour from an empty cup."
Tears prick at your eyes. "I'm just so scared of failing her," you whisper. "Every time I see a bill, or she needs new shoes, or I think about university fees in the future... I can't mess this up, George. I can't let her down."
"Hey, look at me," he says firmly. "You're one of the best engineers I've worked with. Toto wouldn't have hired you if he didn't see that. The team trusts you, I trust you. But working yourself to exhaustion isn't going to help anyone - especially not Amelia."
You wipe away a stray tear. "I just want her to be proud of me."
"She already is," George says with certainty. "I've seen how she talks about you, her mummy who makes the silver cars go fast. But I bet she'd be even prouder knowing her mum takes care of herself too."
You manage a weak laugh. "When did you get so wise?"
"Must be all those post-race press conferences," he grins, then stands up, offering his hand. "Come on. I'm calling you a car, and you're going to get some sleep. That's an order from your driver."
"Oh, pulling rank now, are we?" you tease, but you're already saving your files and shutting down your laptop.
"If that's what it takes to get you to rest, absolutely," he says. As you gather your things, he adds softly, "You know, you're not alone anymore, YN. The team... we look after our own. You and Amelia, you're family now."
Something warm unfurls in your chest at his words. As you walk with him through the quiet paddock, you feel a little lighter, like you've shared some of the weight you've been carrying for so long.
"George?" you say as you reach the paddock exit. "Thank you. For listening, for caring... for everything."
He smiles, that genuine Russell smile that makes his eyes crinkle. "Anytime. Now go get some sleep - we've got a race to win tomorrow. Can't have my strategy engineer falling asleep on the pit wall, can we?"
For the first time in weeks, you fall asleep without worrying about simulations or spreadsheets, George's words echoing in your mind: you're not alone anymore.
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liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli and 67,890 others
yourinstagram Great triple header with a bunch of points for the team ! Super proud of George and Kimi and all the team who makes everything possible. Now it's home time where a certain little girl is waiting for me with hugs and drawings for her favorite drivers 🤍
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username1 WE LOVE YOU YNNN
username2 sometimes i forget that team members have families waiting for them at home and they spend so much time away at races
mercedesamgf1 Proud of our favorite engineer ✨
lando the famous amelia! eager to finally meet her
↳ yourinstagram She says her favorites are the silver arrow boys, but the papaya ones are also cool
username3 amazing job now time to resttt
username4 amelia must love kimi and george i'm crying
username5 you're a super mom! your little girl should be really proud
username6 rest queen you deserve it
kimi.antonelli love you team mom, say hi to my little bestie for me
↳ yourinstagram She says she can't wait to see you, baby driver
georgerussell63 Can't wait for more of Amelia's glittery good luck drawings
↳ yourinstagram She made you extra tall in those again
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You're curled up on your couch in your London flat, finally home after three grueling weeks of racing across different countries. The morning sun filters through your curtains, casting glow over Amelia's curls as she snuggles against you. She hasn't left your side since you got back yesterday, following you around the flat like a tiny shadow, even waiting outside the bathroom door. Now she's nestled into your side, her small hand playing with the sleeve of your jumper, a self-soothing habit she's had since she was a baby when she wants to make sure you're really there.
The TV is playing her favorite morning cartoons, but you can tell she's not really watching. She keeps glancing up at you, as if making sure you haven't disappeared in the last thirty seconds.
"Mummy?" she asks during a commercial break, twisting to look at you. "Does George miss us when we're not at the races?"
You smile at her use of 'us', even though she's never been to a race. "I don't know, sweetheart. Why do you ask?"
"Because you said he asked about me in Japan," she says matter-of-factly. "And he always says hi when you call me from the track." She pauses, then adds, "Sophie says her dad doesn't even remember to call when he goes on business trips."
You pull her closer, pressing a kiss to her head. Sometimes it startles you how perceptive five-year-olds can be. "That's because George is special. And you know what? You'll get to meet him at Silverstone."
"That's so far away," she pouts, crossing her arms. "It's ages and ages away. Does he know I got full marks in maths last week? Mrs. Thompson said my adding up was ex-cell-ent."
Before you can answer, your phone buzzes with a text. Speaking of the devil...
Your heart does a little flip as you read the message.
"Melia?" you say, running a hand through her curls. "How would you like to meet George today?"
The speed at which she sits up is almost concerning. "Really? Really really? Not just on FaceTime?"
"Really really," you confirm. "He wants to get coffee near the park."
Amelia launches herself off the couch, practically vibrating with excitement. "Can I wear my special cap? The one he signed? And my Mercedes shirt? And can I bring my drawings to show him? And-"
"Slow down, love!" you laugh. "Yes to the cap and shirt, and yes, you can bring one drawing. Now go get dressed while I text him back."
Two hours later, you're walking through Hyde Park, Amelia's small hand clutching yours tightly. She's wearing her prized Mercedes cap and has been chattering non-stop since you left home.
"Do you think he's as tall in real life as on TV?" she asks for the third time. "Will he remember that I said his car looked like a rocket ship? Can I show him my times tables? Do you think-"
"Breathe, sweetheart," you remind her gently, amused by her enthusiasm.
You spot him before she does, sitting at an outdoor table of the café. He's dressed casually in jeans and a white t-shirt, sunglasses perched on his head, looking nothing like the fierce competitor you see at races. He's doodling something on a napkin, and the sight makes you smile - he's nervous too.
"George!" Amelia calls out before you can stop her, and his face breaks into a bright smile as he stands up. He really is impossibly tall, you think, especially from a five-year-old's perspective.
"Hello there! You must be the famous Amelia," he says, crouching down to her level. "I've heard so much about you."
Amelia, usually so outgoing, suddenly turns shy, pressing against your leg. "Hi," she says softly, then adds with determination, "I got all my sums right at school. Even the hard ones with carrying over."
George's laugh is warm and genuine. "Did you now? Well, I brought something to test that." He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small notebook and some colored pens. "Thought we could do some racing maths while your mum and I have coffee. What do you say?"
Amelia's eyes light up, and just like that, her shyness vanishes. "Can we do sums about how fast you go? Mummy says you drive at three hundred kilometers per hour sometimes!"
"That's right," George grins. "Should we calculate how long it would take me to drive to the moon at that speed?"
"Don't get her started on space," you warn with a laugh. "We'll be here all day."
Soon, the three of you are settled at the table, Amelia perched on a chair between you and George as he draws race cars and creates simple math problems involving lap times and pit stops. You've ordered coffee for yourself and George, and true to his word, he's gotten Amelia a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.
"Right then," George says, drawing a simple track layout. "If I'm two seconds ahead of Max, and each lap takes one minute and thirty seconds..."
"That's ninety seconds!" Amelia interrupts proudly. "Because sixty plus thirty is ninety!"
"Brilliant!" George exclaims, and Amelia beams. "Now, if we do ten laps..."
You watch them interact, your heart swelling. George is surprisingly good with children, patient and engaging as he turns mathematics into a game about racing. He listens intently to Amelia's stories about school, asks her opinions about different racing tracks ("Abu Dhabi looks like a spaceship!" she declares), and seems genuinely delighted by her quick mind.
"Your daughter is brilliant," George tells you during a moment when Amelia is focused on coloring a particularly detailed Mercedes car. "She's got quite the mind for numbers. Wonder where she gets that from?"
"Like mother, like daughter," you reply, then catch him giving you a soft look that makes your cheeks warm.
"Mummy's really good at numbers," Amelia pipes up, not looking up from her coloring. "She helps me count my pocket money and everything. And she knows exactly how many sleeps until every race."
The afternoon passes quickly, filled with laughter and racing stories. George tells Amelia about his karting days, and she hangs on every word, occasionally interjecting with facts she's learned from watching races with you.
"I started racing when I was about your age," George tells her. "Maybe a bit older."
"Really?" Amelia's eyes go wide. "Mummy, can I do racing?"
You see George trying to hide his smile at your slightly panicked expression. "Maybe we can start with something a bit less dangerous," you suggest. "Like your school sports day?"
"Oh!" Amelia bounces in her seat. "George, I'm going to run in races at school! We have a special day and everything!"
"Is that so?" George leans forward, genuinely interested. "When is this big race?"
"Next Thursday!" she says excitedly. "We get to wear our own clothes instead of school uniform and everything! And Mummy's taking the morning off work to watch." She pauses, then adds hopefully, "Will you come see me race? I'm going to run really fast, like you drive."
"Amelia," you start to say, not wanting her to put George on the spot, but he interrupts.
"Well, I'll have to check my schedule, but I'd love to come see you race," George says seriously. "What events are you doing?"
"The hundred meter dash," Amelia pronounces carefully, clearly proud of remembering the proper term. "And the egg and spoon race. And maybe the three-legged race if Sarah wants to be my partner."
"Those are very important races," George nods solemnly. "Almost as important as the British Grand Prix."
"More important," Amelia declares. "Because Mummy says taking part is what matters, not winning."
You catch George's eye over her head, and he gives you a warm smile that makes your stomach flutter.
As the afternoon light starts to fade, you reluctantly check your watch. "We should probably head home, love. It's nearly dinner time."
"Five more minutes?" Amelia pleads, in the middle of showing George her detailed drawing of what she thinks the Mercedes factory looks like (complete with a rocket launch pad, because according to her, race cars are basically rockets).
"Tell you what," George says, "why don't I walk back through the park with you both? It's such a nice evening."
The walk back is filled with Amelia's chatter as she skips between you and George, occasionally holding both your hands to swing herself forward. She's completely at ease now, telling George about her friend Sophie's hamster and how she wants a pet too.
"Maybe a racing dog?" George suggests with a wink at you.
"George!" Amelia says suddenly, stopping in her tracks. "Will you come to my birthday party? It's not for ages and ages, but Mummy says we can have it in the garden and there might be a bouncy castle!"
"Amelia," you say gently, "George is very busy with racing-"
"When's your birthday?" George asks, ignoring your attempt to give him an out.
"In the summer!" she says proudly. "I'm going to be six!"
"I think I might be able to make it," George muses thoughtfully. "If your mum says it's okay, of course."
You're about to remind them both that summer is months away when you reach your street. As you're saying goodbye, Amelia surprises both you and George by hugging his legs. "Thank you for helping me with maths," she says. "And for making the silver cars go fast with Mummy."
George's expression softens as he hugs her back. "Thank you for being such a great student. Keep practicing those sums, okay? I'll need to test you again at sports day."
Later that night, as you're tucking Amelia into bed, she asks sleepily, "Mummy? I like George. He's nice."
You smile. "Yeah, baby. He is nice."
"He listens when I talk," she continues, fighting to keep her eyes open. "And he makes you smile the pretty smile."
You brush her curls back from her forehead, your heart full. "Get some sleep, love."
"Can we see him again soon?"
"We'll see," you say, kissing her forehead. "Sweet dreams, love."
As you close her door, your phone buzzes with a text.
You lean against the wall, smiling at your phone like a teenager. Something warm and hopeful blooms in your chest, a feeling you haven't allowed yourself to experience in a very long time. The way George was with Amelia today, so patient and kind, so genuinely interested in her thoughts and ideas...
You fall asleep that night thinking about George's smile, Amelia's laughter, and the way your little family of two suddenly feels like it might have room to grow.
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liked by georgerussell63, lando and 72,037 others
yourinstagram Someone special showed up to support our champion🥇 Thank you @/georgerussell63 for being such a good sport (literally) and making a little girl's day!
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username1 THIS IS SO CUTE OMFG
username2 IT WAS REALLY GEORGE
kimi.antonelli my team mom and dad being cute again 😎 tell my bestie i'm proud of her medal!!
mercedesamgf1 Our driver taking his coaching duties very seriously!
charles_leclerc this is adorable! congratulations amelia! 🎉
georgerussell63 Best co-pilot ever! Thanks for letting me join sports day, champ!
username3 GEORGE RUSSELL SHOWING UP TO SPORTS DAY AND DOING THE PARENT RACE?? this man is unreal 😭
username4 the way he's just casually becoming dad of the year?? help??
username5 THIS IS NOT REAL
username6 kimi calling them team mom and dad i can't- this family dynamic is everything
username7 the way the entire paddock is just watching these two co-parent at this point
username8 george showing up to support his engineer's daughter at sports day?? this is literally a romance novel
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You're in the Mercedes garage at Monaco, triple-checking the timing screens when Kimi bounces in, still buzzing with energy despite just finishing FP2. At seventeen, he's the youngest driver on the grid, but his talent is undeniable, having him move up to Mercedes feels like watching your second child succeed.
"There's my favorite strategy engineer!" he announces, dropping into the chair next to you. "Where's my bestie? I thought Amelia was coming to Monaco?"
You laugh, ruffling his hair despite his protests. "Silverstone, kid. That's the plan for her first race."
"But that's so far away," he whines, sounding remarkably like Amelia when she's disappointed. "I need her to draw me a good luck picture too. George keeps showing off the ones she makes him."
At the mention of George's name, you feel your cheeks warm slightly. Kimi notices immediately, his face splitting into a mischievous grin.
"Speaking of George..." he starts, wiggling his eyebrows. "I saw you two in the engineering room yesterday. Looking pretty cozy over those strategy plans."
"We were working," you say firmly, though your blush deepens.
"Sure, sure," Kimi nods sagely. "That's why George gets this dopey smile every time someone mentions your name. Because of work."
"Shouldn't you be in your post-practice debrief?" you deflect, trying to hide your smile.
"Oh, I'm gathering important team information right now," he says cheekily. "Like when George is finally going to ask you out properly instead of pretending he needs to discuss strategy at midnight."
You swat at him with your notebook. "Focus on your driving, kid."
"I am!" he protests. "Now let me focus on my other job, getting my two favorite people together." He pauses thoughtfully. "Well, three favorite people. Amelia's my number one, obviously."
"Of course she is," you roll your eyes fondly. "She asked about you this morning, by the way. Wanted to know if her 'baby driver' was being good."
Kimi beams at the nickname. "Tell her I'm being excellent. Unlike some people who keep pining away instead of-"
"Who's pining away?" George's voice cuts in as he enters the garage, and Kimi's grin turns positively wicked.
"Oh, just talking about-"
"Your tire management," you interrupt quickly, shooting Kimi a warning look. "Which needs work, by the way."
Kimi gives you an exaggerated wink before turning to George. "Hey teammate, YN was just telling me about Amelia's new drawing. The one where she drew you holding the trophy in Monaco?"
George's face lights up. "She drew that? Can I see?"
"It's not finished yet," you say, making a mental note to kill Kimi later. "She wants to add glitter."
"Of course she does," George laughs. "Speaking of Amelia, I found this great book about space and racing. Thought she might like it for her school project. I can bring it by later when we go over the quali strategy?"
"Quali strategy," Kimi mouths behind George's back, making kissy faces. You resist the urge to throw your pen at him.
"That would be nice," you say, trying to maintain professionalism despite Kimi's antics. "Thanks, George."
After George leaves, Kimi leans back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be good with numbers, you're really bad at calculating how totally in love with you he is."
"Don't you have some sim work to do?" you ask, but there's no bite to it.
"Fine, fine," he sighs dramatically, standing up. "But tell Amelia her baby driver misses her and needs more good luck drawings. And tell her that her future dad is doing great in practice-"
"OUT!" you laugh, pushing him toward the door.
"Love you too, Team Mom!" he calls over his shoulder.
As you turn back to your work, you can't help but smile. Between Amelia's enthusiasm, Kimi's teasing, and George's... everything, your life has become wonderfully complicated.
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liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli and 82,478 others
yourinstagram Couldn't be prouder of these two! P1 for George and first ever podium for our baby driver. Special thank you to a certain 5-year-old whose lucky drawings (and very specific corner-by-corner instructions) clearly did the trick! 💫
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username1 COME ONNNN
kimi.antonelli BESTIE YOUR DAUGHTER IS MAGIC!! her rocket drawings made me faster, i have proof 🚀
georgerussell63 The fairy wings definitely gave us extra downforce today! Thanks chief engineer in training!
mercedesamgf1 Proof that rocket drawings = extra speed
alex_albon Need to know more about these magic drawings tbh 👀
username2 okay but can we talk about how george keeps amelia's drawings in his driver room?? proud dad energy??
username3 MY SON'S FIRST PODIUM 😭 and him immediately showing yn's daughter the trophy i'm deceased
username4 not me crying over kimi calling yn "team mom" and showing off his trophy like a kid who got an A+ 🥺
username5 the cutest f1 family doesn't exi-
username6 LIVING for george and yn trying to pretend they're not basically dating and co-parenting at this point
username7 george russell handsome successful f1 driver who keeps a 5 year old's drawings for good luck?? my heart can't take this
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The Silverstone paddock is buzzing with its usual race day energy, but today feels different. Your parents arrived with Amelia an hour ago, and watching your daughter take in the F1 world for the first time is making you see everything through new eyes.
"And this is where all the computers are," you explain, showing her around the garage. She's wearing her special Mercedes outfit, a miniature team kit that appeared mysteriously in your flat last week (you suspect George), complete with her own headset and passes.
"It's like a spaceship!" she whispers in awe, clutching your hand. "Is this where you make George and Kimi go fast?"
Before you can answer, a familiar voice calls out, "BESTIE!"
Amelia whirls around to see Kimi bounding toward her, already in his race suit. "Baby driver!" she squeals, running to hug him.
Kimi scoops her up, spinning her around. "Finally! I've been waiting forever to see you! Your drawings give me good luck, you know."
"Really?" Amelia beams. "I made you a new one for today! Mummy, can I show him?"
You pull the carefully protected drawing from your bag. Kimi and George's cars racing with what appears to be rockets attached to them. Kimi examines it with exaggerated seriousness.
"This is perfect! The rockets are exactly what we need," he declares. "Should we go put it up in my driver room?"
Amelia looks at you questioningly. "Can I go with Kimi, Mummy?"
"Of course, sweetheart. Grandma and Grandpa can go too." You turn to your parents, who are watching the scene with amused smiles. "I need to check some things before the race."
"Come on, bestie," Kimi says, still holding Amelia. "I'll show you where I keep all your other drawings. They're my lucky charms!"
As they head off, Amelia chattering excitedly about her rocket design theories, you hear your mother say to your father, "Did you ever think our granddaughter would have a Formula 1 driver as her best friend?"
You're reviewing last-minute strategy changes when George arrives, looking sharp in his race suit but slightly nervous.
"Is she here?" he asks, peering around the garage.
"Kimi kidnapped her," you laugh. "Something about lucky charm drawings."
George's face falls slightly. "Oh. I, uh, I got her something. For her first race." He pulls out a small package wrapped in silver paper.
"George..." you start, touched by his thoughtfulness.
"GEORGE!" Amelia's voice echoes through the garage as she runs back in, Kimi following with a grin. She launches herself at George, who catches her easily.
"Hello, trouble," he says warmly. "Ready for your first race?"
"Kimi showed me his room! And all my drawings are on the wall! And he has a special chair that spins around and around and-"
"Breathe, love," you remind her, sharing an amused look with George.
"I have something for you," George tells her, setting her down and handing her the package. "Every proper race engineer needs one of these."
Amelia carefully unwraps it to reveal a personalized notebook with "AMELIA - Race Engineer in Training" embossed on the cover, along with the Mercedes logo.
"It's just like Mummy's!" she gasps, running her fingers over the lettering.
"Look inside," George encourages.
She opens it to find the first page filled with messages - one from George, one from Kimi, and to your surprise, messages from Lewis Hamilton, Toto, and the entire engineering team.
"Now you can take notes during the race," George explains. "Study all our moves so you can tell us what we did wrong later."
Amelia hugs the notebook to her chest, then throws her arms around George's neck. "Thank you! I'm going to write down everything! Even when you make mistakes!"
"Especially when he makes mistakes," Kimi adds with a wink.
The pre-race preparations fly by, and before you know it, it's almost time for the drivers to head to the grid. Your parents have taken Amelia to their seats in the garage, where she's already making serious notes in her new notebook.
"Right," Kimi says, giving Amelia a high five. "I've got my lucky drawing, so P1 is basically guaranteed."
"No way," George argues playfully. "My drawing has more glitter. That's worth at least half a second per lap."
As they head out, you hear Amelia ask your mother, "Grandma, why does George look at Mummy the same way Prince Charming looks at Cinderella?"
You feel your face heat up as Kimi bursts out laughing and George nearly trips over his own feet.
The race itself is intense. Through it all, you can hear Amelia's running commentary behind you:
"Mummy told George to go faster and he did!" "The red car is being silly, Mummy make them move!" "Baby driver is catching up!"
And even though the race itself didn't bring good results for the team, the smile on George's face when he hugged you and Amelia after the race could probably light up London after dark.
Hours later, you're packing up your things in the engineering room after a long day of post-Silverstone analysis when George appears in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically nervous. He's changed out of his team gear into casual clothes, hands stuffed in his pockets.
"Hey," he says, lingering in the doorway. "Good day?"
"Yeah, just finishing up the race report," you nod, trying not to notice how good he looks in that light blue jumper. "You?"
"Same, all done with media." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Listen, I was wondering... would you like to get dinner?"
"Oh," you say, checking your watch. "I should probably get home soon. It's Amelia's bedtime and-"
"I meant just you and me," he interrupts softly. "Like... a date."
You freeze in the middle of putting your laptop away, your heart suddenly racing. "Oh," you say again, eloquently.
"I know this great place in Mayfair," he continues quickly, as if afraid you'll say no if he doesn't get all the words out. "And I already talked to your mum, she said she'd love to watch Amelia for the evening. If you want to, that is. No pressure at all, I just thought... well, after everything, and Silverstone was amazing, and you're amazing, and-"
"George," you cut off his rambling with a smile. "Are you asking me on a proper date?"
He runs a hand through his hair, that endearing nervous gesture you've come to love. "Yes. Very badly, apparently."
"You talked to my mum?" you ask, amused and touched.
"Well, yeah," he admits, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "She cornered me after the race actually. Said something about being tired of watching us dance around each other and that she'd happily babysit any time."
You laugh, remembering your mother's knowing looks throughout the race weekend. "Did my five-year-old and my mother conspire to set us up?"
"Don't forget Kimi," George grins. "He's been sending me links to romantic restaurants for weeks. And threatening to tell Amelia all my embarrassing stories if I didn't, and I quote, 'get my act together.'"
"Sounds like we've been thoroughly outmaneuvered," you say, your heart feeling impossibly full.
"So..." George takes a step closer, hope written all over his face. "Is that a yes?"
You pretend to think about it. "Well, since you've already gotten approval from my entire family, including my self-appointed eighteen-year-old son..."
"YN," he groans, but he's smiling.
"Yes," you say softly. "I'd love to have dinner with just you."
His face breaks into that brilliant smile that never fails to make your stomach flip. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He takes another step closer, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "I've been wanting to ask you for ages," he admits. "Since Barcelona, really. Well, since before that if I'm honest."
"What took you so long?" you ask, even though your heart is hammering so hard you can barely hear your own words.
"I wanted to do it right," he says. "Make sure Amelia was okay with it, that you were ready. That I wasn't misreading things." He pauses. "Also, Kimi told me I had to wait until after Silverstone because he had money on me asking you out this week."
You laugh, shaking your head. "Of course he did."
"So," George says, taking your hand. "Tonight? I can pick you up at eight?"
"Seven sounds perfect."
As if on cue, your phone buzzes with a text from your mother:
Mum: Amelia and I are having a girls' night! Don't worry about bedtime, we've got it covered. Have fun on your date! 😘
George peers at your phone and laughs. "I think we've been set up by the most elaborate matchmaking scheme in F1 history."
"Seems like it," you agree, squeezing his hand. "Better make it worth their effort then."
His eyes soften as he looks at you. "I plan to."
As you walk out of the engineering room hand in hand, you can't help but smile at how perfectly everything has fallen into place. Your daughter adores him, your family approves, and even your teenage driver-turned-matchmaker is thrilled.
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liked by yourintagram, lando and 601,287 others
georgerussell63 Not the Silverstone weekend we wanted on track, but having this little engineer-in-training in our garage made everything better. Thanks for the lucky drawings Amelia - we'll get them right next time! P.S. Your detailed notes about my "silly mistake in turn 3" were very professional 😅
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username1 AHH THIS IS THE CUTEST THING EVER I CANT
username2 GEORGE SOFT ERA
kimi.antonelli she told me your mistakes too 😎 bestie keeps it real
lando mate she really wrote "george needs to drive more zoomy" in her notebook i'm crying
mercedesamgf1 Our newest team member giving very thorough feedback! 📝
yourinstagram She's already planning your strategy for Spa. Apparently it involves fairy dust and "extra zoom buttons"
username4 the way george claimed both yn and amelia is just to cute
username5 WE STAN AMELIA
username6 not to sound weird but you can tell that george ADORES both of them
username7 THIS IS MY FAMILY
liked by username1, username2 and 12,095 other
f1gossip BREAKING: Mercedes driver George Russell and chief race engineer YN spotted having dinner together at exclusive Mayfair restaurant. First time the two have been seen together outside of work events. 👀
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username1 HELLO??? THIS IS NOT A DRILL?? look at the way he's looking at her omg
username2 someone write this romance novel immediately
username3 not me zooming in on every detail 👀 THE HAND ON THE TABLE NEARLY TOUCHING HERS I'M SCREAMING
username4 not to be That Person but the way he's always so sweet with her daughter?? and now this?? im crying in the club rn
username5 don't be weird about this
username6 someone check on kimi, bet he's having a proud son moment watching his team parents finally get together
username7 manifesting the cutest f1 family rn 🕯️🕯️🕯️
username8 GEORGE RUSSELL BOYFRIEND ERA STARTS NOW
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It's well past Amelia's bedtime when you unlock your front door, cheeks still flushed from the perfect evening, and the goodnight kiss that made you feel like a teenager again. You expect to find your mother reading on the couch, but instead, you hear small feet padding down the hallway.
"Mummy!" Amelia appears in her pink princess pajamas, clearly having fought off sleep to wait for you. "You're home!"
"Sweetheart, why aren't you in bed?" you ask, though you can't bring yourself to be stern when she looks so excited.
Your mother appears behind her, looking apologetic. "Someone insisted on staying up until you got back. Said she needed to make sure the date went well."
"Did you have nice dinner?" Amelia asks, taking your hand and pulling you to the couch. "Did George tell you funny stories? Did he make you laugh? Sophie says her mummy went on a date and didn't laugh at all and never saw the man again."
You catch your mother trying to hide her smile as she disappears into the kitchen, clearly giving you space for this conversation.
"Yes, we had a lovely dinner," you say, settling onto the couch. Amelia immediately climbs into your lap, her favorite spot for important conversations. "And yes, George made me laugh a lot."
"Good," she says seriously. "Because you have a pretty laugh, Mummy."
Your heart catches at her observation. Sometimes you forget how perceptive she is.
"Did you wear your sparkly dress?" she continues, playing with your necklace - the delicate silver one George had noticed and complimented over dinner.
"I did."
"George likes sparkly things," she nods sagely. "He always says my glitter drawings are his favorite."
You smile, remembering how George had shown you a whole folder on his phone of photos of Amelia's artwork. "He does love your drawings."
"Mummy?" Amelia looks up at you, her expression suddenly serious. "Are you happy?"
"What do you mean, love?"
"When George is around, you smile different," she explains. "Like when we have ice cream on Sunday or when I learn a new word. It's your happy smile." She pauses, thinking hard.
You pull her closer, pressing a kiss to her curls. "You're right. George does make me very happy."
"Good," she declares. "Because he makes me happy too. And he helps me with maths. And he remembers what I like. And he makes baby driver behave." She counts off these qualities on her small fingers.
"Does he now?" you laugh.
"Mhm. Today when you were getting ready, he called to tell me a bedtime story about racing cars while Grandma did my hair. But then I had to promise not to tell you because it was supposed to be a surprise that he called."
Your heart melts at this revelation. You hadn't known about the bedtime story.
"And Mummy?" she continues, fighting back a yawn. "I think George has a happy smile when he sees you too. Like when you wear your sparkly dress or when you tell him he did good racing."
"Did well racing," you correct automatically, making her giggle.
"Did well racing," she repeats. "So can we see him again soon? Maybe for pancakes? He promised to show me how to make them in funny shapes."
"Did he now?"
She nods enthusiastically. "He said he can make race car pancakes! And he said maybe next time we can both come to dinner with him, and he knows a place that has the best chocolate cake ever."
"We'll see," you say, but you're already smiling at the thought. "But right now, little miss, it's way past your bedtime."
"One more question?" she pleads, giving you her best puppy dog eyes.
"One more."
"If George makes us both happy, and we make him happy, and he makes good pancakes..." she thinks carefully about her words, "does that mean he can stay? Properly stay?"
Your throat tightens with emotion. "Oh, sweetheart..."
"Because I think we should keep him," she says matter-of-factly. "He fits good with us. Like my puzzle pieces when they click together right."
"Fits well," you correct softly, blinking back tears.
"Fits well," she agrees, snuggling closer. "So can we keep him? He remembers everything. That's important, Mummy. Mrs. Thompson says remembering things about people you love is very important."
"When did you get so wise?" you ask, hugging her close.
"I learned it from you," she says simply. "And George says I'm smart like my mummy. I think we should definitely keep him."
Looking at your daughter's hopeful face, thinking about the perfect evening and how naturally he fits into your lives, you find yourself agreeing.
"Yeah," you say softly. "I think we should."
"Good," Amelia yawns, finally letting sleep catch up with her. "Because he makes everything better. Like sprinkles on ice cream."
As you carry your sleepy daughter to bed, she mumbles, "Mummy? I'm happy you're happy."
You tuck her in, your heart so full it might burst. "I'm happy you're happy too, love."
"Tell George I said goodnight," she murmurs, already drifting off. "And that he better not forget about the pancakes..."
Looking at your sleeping daughter, thinking about George's words, you realize that sometimes the best families are the ones you build yourself, piece by perfectly fitting piece.
You fall asleep that night with a smile on your face, dreaming of race car pancakes, perfect puzzle pieces, and the way happiness feels when it finally clicks into place.
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The summer heat has turned your London flat into a lazy afternoon paradise. You're in the kitchen preparing cold lemonade while Amelia sits at the counter, tongue stuck out in concentration as she works on her latest masterpiece - a drawing of what she claims is Kimi's car with rocket boosters.
"Mummy, do you think baby driver will like the purple rockets?" she asks, reaching for another crayon.
"I think he'll love them," you assure her, just as there's a knock at the door.
"I'll get it!" Amelia scrambles off her stool before you can stop her.
"Amelia, wait-" but she's already running to the door.
"Who is it?" she calls out, following your safety rules.
"It's George!" comes the familiar voice, and Amelia beams at you.
"Can I open it, Mummy? Please?"
You nod, and she throws the door open to reveal George standing there in casual clothes, looking unfairly handsome in a simple white t-shirt and jeans.
"George!" Amelia launches herself at him, and he catches her with practiced ease. "Are you here to see my new drawings? I made one for baby driver with rockets!"
"Of course I am," he grins, carrying her inside. His eyes meet yours over her head, soft and warm. "Hi."
"Hi," you reply, trying to control your smile. "This is a surprise."
"Good surprise?" he asks, setting Amelia down.
"Look!" Amelia interrupts, grabbing his hand and pulling him to her artwork. "See? Purple rockets!"
"Very aerodynamic," George nods seriously, examining the drawing. "Though I think the Mercedes might need some rockets too, don't you?"
While Amelia launches into an elaborate explanation of her rocket distribution strategy, George catches your eye again, mouthing 'kitchen?' with a raised eyebrow.
"I'll get you some lemonade," you say, heading to the kitchen. Moments later, you hear him tell Amelia he'll be right back to help her with the Mercedes rockets.
As soon as he enters the kitchen, he's in your space, hands settling on your waist. "Hi," he says again, softer this time.
"You said that already," you tease, even as your heart races.
"Didn't get to say it properly though," he murmurs, leaning down. "Been thinking about doing this all week..."
His lips meet yours in a gentle kiss that makes your knees weak. You wind your arms around his neck, melting into it as he pulls you closer-
"Mummy? George? What are you doing?"
You jump apart like teenagers caught by their parents. Amelia stands in the doorway, head tilted in confusion, her purple crayon forgotten in her hand.
"We were just..." you start, face burning.
"Were you kissing?" she asks directly, making you both flush deeper.
"Um," George runs a hand through his hair nervously. "Yes?"
Amelia considers this for a moment. "Oh. Like in the princess movies?"
"Something like that," you manage, wondering how to handle this situation.
"Okay," she says simply. Then, "Can I have more lemonade?"
You blink at the sudden change of subject. "Of course, love."
As you pour her drink, she looks between you and George thoughtfully. "Does this mean George is your boyfriend now?"
George makes a choking sound beside you, and you nearly spill the lemonade.
"Well..." you look at George, who seems equally unsure how to answer.
"Because Sophie from school says when people kiss they're boyfriend and girlfriend," Amelia continues matter-of-factly. "And you smile a lot when George is here. And he brings me drawings from baby driver. And he remembers I like the blue cup not the red one."
She says all this while George hands her the correct blue cup, proving her point.
"Would that be okay?" George asks carefully. "If I was your mummy's boyfriend?"
Amelia takes a long sip of lemonade, clearly thinking it over. "Will you still help me with my drawings?"
"Of course."
"And tell me racing stories?"
"Absolutely."
"And you won't make Mummy sad?"
Your heart clenches at that, and you see George swallow hard.
"I promise," he says softly, "I will try my very best to only make your mummy smile."
Amelia nods, apparently satisfied. "Okay then. Can we do the rockets for your car now?"
"Lead the way, boss," George says, shooting you a relieved smile.
As Amelia skips back to her drawings, George quickly squeezes your hand. "That went better than expected?"
"Yeah," you breathe out. "Though we might want to be more careful with the kitchen kisses."
He grins, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. "Noted. Though I can't promise I won't want to kiss you every time I see you."
"George!" Amelia calls. "The rockets won't draw themselves!"
"Coming!" he calls back, then quickly steals one more kiss. "For the road."
You watch him join Amelia at the counter, the way he listens intently to her explanation of rocket physics (mostly gathered from cartoons), and feel your heart swell. It's early days still, but watching them together, you can't help but hope this is just the beginning of something wonderful.
"Mummy!" Amelia waves you over. "George says we need strategy for the rockets. That's your job!"
"Can't argue with that," you laugh, joining them at the counter.
As evening settles in, you find George and Amelia sprawled on the living room floor, surrounded by LEGO pieces. The instructions for her new F1 car set lie forgotten as George helps her create what appears to be a highly modified version.
"See, if we put this piece here," George explains, "it makes the perfect spot for your rocket boosters."
"Can we make the wheels rainbow colored?" Amelia asks through a yawn.
"Of course we- did you just yawn?" George teases, poking her side gently.
"No," she protests, even as another yawn escapes. "M'not tired."
"Really?" you ask from your spot on the couch. "Because it looks like someone's about to fall asleep in her LEGOs."
"But George hasn't finished helping me," she whines softly, rubbing her eyes.
George catches your eye, silently asking permission. At your nod, he says, "How about I help you get ready for bed, and tomorrow you can finish the car?"
Amelia perks up slightly. "Promise you'll come back tomorrow?"
"Actually, sweetheart," he says carefully, "I have to go to Monaco for a few days. But I'll be back for your birthday next week."
Her lower lip trembles slightly. "You won't miss my party?"
"Miss your sixth birthday party? No way," he assures her. "I've already got your present picked out and everything."
"Really?" she asks sleepily.
"Really. Now, bedtime?"
She holds up her arms. "Will you carry me like when I fell asleep at the factory?"
George scoops her up easily, and your heart melts as she immediately snuggles into his shoulder. "Story?" she mumbles.
"One story," you say, following them to her room.
You watch from the doorway as George helps her into her pajamas and tucks her in, making sure her favorite stuffed car is properly positioned.
"Can you tell me about Monaco?" she asks as he sits on the edge of her bed. "Since that's where you're going?"
"Well," he starts, smoothing her hair back, "Monaco is like a magical kingdom by the sea. The buildings are all white and shiny, and the race track goes right through the city..."
You listen as he weaves a story about princesses who race cars and dolphins who watch from the harbor. By the time he's describing the tunnel section, Amelia's eyes are fluttering closed.
"G'night George," she mumbles. "Love you."
George's hand stills in her hair for a moment, and you see the emotion cross his face. "Goodnight, princess," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Sweet dreams."
He joins you in the doorway, both of you watching as she snuggles deeper into her blankets.
"You okay?" you ask softly, noting his expression.
He nods, leading you back to the living room. Once you're out of earshot, he pulls you close, burying his face in your hair.
"She said she loves me," he murmurs.
"She does," you confirm, wrapping your arms around him. "You've become very important to her."
He pulls back enough to look at you, his eyes intense. "You know you both are important to me too, right? I know we haven't been dating long, but..."
"I know," you assure him, reaching up to touch his cheek. "We know."
He leans into your touch. "I hate that I have to go to Monaco."
"It's only for a few days," you remind him. "And it's part of the job."
"Yeah," he sighs, pulling you toward the couch. You curl into his side automatically. "I just... I'll miss this. Miss you both."
"We'll miss you too," you admit. "But you'll be back for the party. Speaking of which, what exactly have you got planned? Amelia's been trying to guess all week."
His face lights up. "Ah, that's classified information. But I think she'll love it."
"George..."
"Don't worry," he laughs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Nothing too extravagant. Well, maybe a little extravagant. But she's only turning six once!"
You shake your head fondly. "You're going to spoil her rotten."
"That's my job, isn't it?" he asks, then seems to catch himself. "I mean, not my job, but... you know what I mean."
"I do," you say softly, understanding the weight of what he's not saying. It's early days still, but you both know this is heading somewhere serious.
He pulls you closer, and you sit in comfortable silence for a while, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm.
"When do you leave?" you ask eventually.
"Early tomorrow," he sighs. "Need to be there for some sponsorship events."
"Then we should probably clean up these LEGOs before someone steps on one in the morning."
He groans dramatically but helps you up. As you both kneel to collect the scattered pieces, he keeps stealing glances at you.
"What?" you ask after the third time you catch him looking.
"Nothing," he smiles. "Just... thank you."
"For what?"
"For letting me be part of this," he gestures around the flat, at Amelia's drawings on the fridge, the LEGOs, the life you've built. "For trusting me with her. With both of you."
Your heart swells. "Thank you for wanting to be part of it."
He reaches for you then, LEGOs forgotten as he pulls you into a soft kiss. It's different from the heated kitchen kiss earlier - slower, deeper, full of everything neither of you are quite ready to say out loud.
When you break apart, he rests his forehead against yours. "I should go," he whispers. "Early flight."
"Okay," you murmur, stealing one more kiss.
At the door, he turns back. "Tell Amelia I'll FaceTime her from Monaco? And maybe..." he hesitates, "maybe we could FaceTime too? After she's in bed?"
"I'd like that," you smile.
"And you'll text me if you need anything? Or if she does?"
"George," you laugh softly, "it's three days."
"I know, I know," he runs a hand through his hair. "I just... I got used to seeing you both every day. This is different."
"We'll be fine," you assure him. "Just come back in time for the party. Can't disappoint your biggest fan."
His expression softens. "Never." He kisses you one last time, gentle and sweet. "Sweet dreams, beautiful."
Later, checking on Amelia before bed, you find she's kicked off her blankets as usual. As you tuck her back in, she stirs slightly.
"Mummy?" she mumbles. "Is George gone?"
"Yes, love. But he'll be back soon."
"Good," she sighs, already drifting back to sleep. "He gives good hugs. And he makes you smile the proper way."
Looking at your sleeping daughter, thinking of George's gentle ways with her, his careful consideration of her feelings, the way he's slotted so perfectly into your lives, you can't help but smile "the proper way."
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liked by username1, username2 and 17,984 others
f1gossip George Russell pulled up to a Mercedes event in Monaco… and brought a model with him 👀
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username1 OHHHHH
username2 what about yn...
username3 THEY LOOK SO GOOD
username4 george single era is coming
username5 this is why i told y'all not to be weair about him and he merc strategist
username6 NOOO HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE WITH YN
username7 yn and amelia are literally right there
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The flat feels quiet without Amelia's laughter echoing through it. Your mother had taken her for a girls afternoon, and you stayed back home doing some chores. A certain British driver's smile coming to your mind as you move through the house.
You're curled up on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone when they appear, photos that make your heart stop. George at some glamorous Monaco event, looking devastatingly handsome in his tailored suit. But it's not his appearance that makes your stomach churn, it's the stunning model on his arm.
They look perfect together - like something out of a magazine spread. The kind of couple that belongs at these events.
Your phone rings, making you snap out of it. Kimi's name appearing on screen. For a moment, you consider letting it go to voicemail, but he'd only keep calling.
"Hey," you answer, trying to keep your voice steady.
"Finally," he grumbles. "Been trying to figure out what to get the little monster for her birthday. Does she still like those unicorn games?"
"Yeah, she does."
"That's enthusiastic," he says sarcastically. "What about- hang on. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong."
"Don't bullshit me, YN. I've known you too long. You're my team mum."
You sink deeper into the couch, pulling a throw pillow to your chest. "I'm fine."
"You sound like when George beat you at Mario Kart and you pretended it didn't bother you for two weeks."
"That was different," you protest weakly. "He cheated."
"Stop deflecting. What happened?"
You're quiet for a long moment, then, "Have you checked social media today?"
There's rustling, then typing. A long pause. "Ah, fuck."
"Yeah."
"YN..."
"Don't," you cut him off, voice thick. "Don't try to explain it away. I get it. She's gorgeous and sophisticated and probably knows all about sponsorship events and doesn't have a complicated life with a six-year-old and-"
"Stop," Kimi interrupts firmly. "First, you're spiraling. Second, you know these events are bullshit. Remember when they tried to set me up with that Instagram model?"
"This is different."
"How?"
"They look..." you swallow hard, "right together. Like they fit. Like they make sense."
"And you and George don't make sense?" Kimi asks skeptically. "Because from where I'm standing, you fit better than most things in this ridiculous sport. Like Amelia says, puzzle pieces."
"I thought..." your voice cracks. "I really thought maybe this time would be different. That maybe..."
"Have you talked to him?"
"No."
"YN..."
"I can't," you whisper, tears finally falling. "I can't hear him say that this was fun but he's found someone more suitable or-"
"Now you're being stupid," Kimi cuts in. "George isn't like that. You know he's not."
"Do I? Because I thought Amelia's father wasn't like that either, and look how that turned out."
There's a long pause. When Kimi speaks again, his voice is gentler. "George isn't him. You know that."
"I can't risk it," you say softly. "I can't risk Amelia getting hurt. I can't have her wait by the window, hoping he'd come back."
"And that's exactly why you should talk to George," Kimi insists. "Because he's not the kind of man who makes little girls wait by windows."
"But what if he is?" Your voice is barely audible. "What if I let her love him and then..."
"Then you'll deal with it. But you can't protect her from everything, YN. And maybe you're protecting her from something beautiful."
You wipe your eyes. "When did you get so wise? Why am I taking advice from my 18-year-old work son."
"I've always been wise. You just never listen." His tone turns serious again. "Have you checked your phone? Has he tried to contact you?"
You glance at your notifications - nothing from George. The realization makes your chest ache. "No."
"Give it time. There's probably an explanation."
"Yeah," you say hollowly. "The explanation is probably five-foot-ten with perfect hair and no emotional baggage."
"YN..."
"I should go," you cut in. "Amelia will be home soon and I can't... I can't let her see me like this."
"You don't have to handle everything alone, you know."
"Yes, I do," you say quietly. "That's what being a single mother means."
Before he can respond, you hear keys in the door. "They're back. I have to go."
"YN, wait-"
You hang up just as Amelia bursts in, already talking excitedly about her day with grandma.
"And then we saw the biggest dog ever and- Mummy?" she stops suddenly, looking at you with those too-perceptive eyes. "Are you sad?"
"No, love," you force a smile, quickly wiping your face. "Just tired."
She climbs onto the couch next to you, her small hand reaching up to touch your cheek where a tear had fallen. "You look sad though."
Your heart clenches. This is exactly what you were afraid of - her picking up on your pain, carrying it. You won't do that to her.
"I'm fine, sweetheart," you say, pulling her close. "Tell me more about your day with grandma."
"Well..." she starts, but then pauses. "When is George coming back? He promised to help me finish my LEGO car."
The innocent question feels like a knife to your heart. "He's very busy with work right now, love."
"But he'll be back for my party, right? He promised."
You hold her tighter, breathing in her familiar sweet scent, trying to find the right words that won't hurt her. "Sometimes... sometimes grown-ups have to change their plans."
"Oh," she says quietly, and you can hear the beginning of disappointment in her voice. It makes you want to cry all over again.
Looking down at Amelia, at her tiny fingers playing with the bracelet George gave her, you think maybe some risks aren't worth taking. You won't let her build hopes around someone only to watch them crumble.
Better to step back now, before she gets even more attached. Before those goodnight calls and LEGO sessions and racing stories become something she can't live without. Before George becomes a person she waits by windows for.
Even if it means breaking your own heart in the process.
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The soft knock at your door comes just after ten. You knew he'd come, George Russell isn't the type to let something go, especially not this. Still, your hands shake as you open the door.
He looks exhausted, still in his travel clothes, hair messy like he's been running his hands through it repeatedly. The moment he sees you, his face crumples with relief.
"YN," he breathes, stepping forward, but you move back.
"You shouldn't be here," your voice is barely a whisper, conscious of Amelia sleeping down the hall.
"Where else would I be?" He stays in the doorway, respecting your space even as his eyes plead with you. "Please, just talk to me. What happened? What changed?"
You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold it together. "I saw the photos."
"The- oh god, the event photos?" His eyes widen. "YN, that wasn't- it was just PR. Mercedes arranged it, I should have told you but I didn't think-"
"It's not about the photos," you cut in, though your heart clenches remembering them. "It's about what they made me realize."
"Which is?"
"That this isn't fair. To any of us. But especially not to Amelia."
His face falls. "What are you talking about?"
You glance down the hallway, making sure her door is still closed, then move further into the living room. George follows, closing the front door softly.
"She never met her father," you say quietly. "He left when I told him I was pregnant. Said he wasn't ready for a family, for responsibility. Last I heard he was in Australia somewhere."
"YN..."
"She used to ask about him," you continue, voice thick. "When she was younger. Why didn't she have a daddy like other kids? Was it because she wasn't good enough? Did she do something wrong?"
"She was just a baby," George says softly. "It wasn't her fault."
"No, it wasn't. It was mine. For letting someone into her life who could hurt her." You look at him directly. "I won't make that mistake again."
"I'm not him," George steps closer. "I would never-"
"You can't promise that," you cut in. "You can't promise you won't wake up one day and realize this is all too much. The responsibility, the complications, the fact that you're barely twenty-seven and suddenly playing father figure to a five-year-old."
"I'm not playing at anything," he says fiercely. "I love her. I love you both."
"Now you do. But what about in six months? A year? When the novelty wears off and you realize you could have someone without all this baggage?"
"Is that what you think this is?" He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "That you're some kind of novelty? That Amelia is baggage?"
"I think you're young and successful and have your whole life ahead of you. And I think one day you'll realize that life could be a lot simpler without us in it."
"You don't get to decide that," he says, voice rising slightly before he catches himself, lowering it again. "You don't get to decide what I want or how I feel."
"I get to decide what's best for my daughter."
"And you think pushing away someone who loves her is what's best?"
"I think..." your voice cracks. "I think protecting her from another heartbreak is what's best. You should have seen her face yesterday, when she thought you might miss her party. The way her whole world dimmed, just at the possibility. I can't... I can't watch her go through that for real."
"Then it's a good thing she won't have to," he steps closer again. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
"You can't promise that."
"Yes, I can." He reaches for your hand but you pull back. "YN, please. Look at me."
You shake your head, tears falling now. "I can't risk it. The way she looks at you... she trusts you completely. She loves you so much already."
"And I love her," he insists. "More than I ever thought possible. Do you know what I keep in my wallet? That drawing she did of us, where she put all three of us together and wrote 'my family' at the top. I look at it every day. It's not some game to me."
"George..."
"No, listen to me. I know you're scared. I know you're trying to protect her. But pushing me away isn't the answer. Let me prove to you that I'm not going anywhere."
From down the hall comes a small voice: "Mummy?"
You both freeze as Amelia appears, rubbing her eyes sleepily. The moment she sees George, her whole face lights up.
"George!" she runs to him and he catches her automatically, lifting her up. "You came back!"
The way she clings to him, the natural way he holds her, the absolute trust in her eyes - it makes your heart ache.
"Of course I came back, princess," he says softly, but his eyes are on you. "I'll always come back."
"Promise?" she asks, already drifting back to sleep against his shoulder.
"Promise," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her hair.
You watch them, your chest tight with love and fear and possibility. "I should put her back to bed."
"Let me?" he asks quietly. When you hesitate, he adds, "Please?"
You nod, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.
You follow them to her room, watching as he tucks her in with practiced ease, making sure her favorite stuffed car is properly positioned.
"G'night George," she mumbles. "Love you."
"Love you too, princess," he whispers, smoothing her hair back.
Back in the living room, he turns to you. "That's what you're trying to protect her from? Love?"
"I'm trying to protect her from losing it."
"Then stop trying to make her lose it," he says gently. "Stop trying to make us both lose it."
"I'm scared," you admit, voice breaking.
"I know," he steps closer, and this time you don't move away. "But I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you make me."
"She needs stability."
"I know. Let me be that for her. For both of you."
"George..."
"Look at me," he pleads. "Really look at me. Do I look like someone who's going to walk away from this? From her? From you?"
You do look at him - at the sincerity in his eyes, the way he's still oriented toward Amelia's room like he can't help it, the drawing you know is worn at the edges from being taken out of his wallet so often.
"I can't lose you," you whisper. "Either of us."
"Then don't push me away," he reaches for you again, and this time you let him pull you close. "Let me love you both. Let me prove to you that some promises are worth believing in."
And there in the quiet of your flat, with your daughter sleeping peacefully down the hall and George's heart beating steady under your ear, you think maybe he already has.
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liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli and 90,122 others
yourinstagram Six years ago, you made me a mother. Six years of endless love, racing car stories, messy art projects, and the kind of joy I never knew existed before you. You amaze me every single day with your kindness, your intelligence, and your incredible spirit. The way you see the world, the way you love so fearlessly, the way you make everyone around you smile. You're magic, my darling girl. Happy birthday to my little racer, my best friend, my greatest adventure. Here's to many more years of race car pancakes, LEGO building sessions, and hearing you explain aerodynamics to anyone who'll listen (sorry about that, fellow airplane passengers). I love you more than all the checkered flags in the world. ❤️
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username1 THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL
username2 happy birthday to little amelia !
georgerussell63 Happy birthday to the most amazing co-pilot anyone could ask for ❤️ Can't wait to finish that LEGO car with you today, princess. Love you lots x
kimi.antoneli happy birthday little monster. your present will make your mother cry. you're welcome.
carlossainz55 Feliz cumpleaños pequeña! 🎉 Still waiting for that rematch on the simulator!
lando HAPPY BIRTHDAY MELIA!
username3 the entire paddock loves her i'm crying
mercedesamgf1 Happy birthday to our youngest team member!
username4 yn is the best mama ever, doing it on her own too
username5 GEORGE THIS IS YOUR FAMILY
alex_albon Happy birthday Ames! 🎈 Still using those overtaking tips you gave me
username6 george bonus dad ever
username7 I LOVE THIS FAMILY SM
username8 Happy birthday to F1's favorite little princess
username9 george's comment 🥺 he loves them so much
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The house is finally quiet, scattered remnants of the party everywhere - wrapping paper, balloons, the racing track cake that took you hours to perfect. You're gathering paper plates when you hear George's soft footsteps coming from Amelia's room.
"She's finally asleep," he whispers, leaning against the doorframe. "Had to read the racing manual three times, but she's out."
You can't help but smile. "The manual? Really?"
"Her choice," he grins. "Said she needed to dream about proper racing lines."
"Of course she did." You shake your head fondly, continuing to clean up.
"Hey," he catches your hand gently as you pass. "Leave it. Just... sit with me for a bit?"
You hesitate, but nod, letting him lead you to the couch. You both sit, a careful distance between you that feels wrong after how close you've been these past months.
"She had a good day," you say softly, filling the silence.
"The best," he agrees. "Though I think Kimi might have gone overboard with the simulator."
"Might have? She's going to be impossible to get to school now."
George laughs quietly, then sobers. "YN... can we talk? Really talk?"
Your heart speeds up. "About?"
"Everything. Us. What happened this week. What you're afraid of."
You pull your knees up to your chest, making yourself smaller. "George..."
"Please," he says softly. "I need to understand. I need to know how to fix this."
"It's not about fixing," you say, staring at the birthday banner hanging crooked on the wall. "It's about... reality."
"What reality?"
"The reality that you're 27, successful, with your whole life ahead of you. And I'm..." you gesture vaguely, "complicated."
"You think that's how I see you? As complicated?"
"Isn't it true though? I come with so much... stuff. A child, responsibilities, limitations-"
"Stop," he cuts in, turning to face you fully. "Just... stop. You want to know what I see when I look at you both? I see family. I see home. I see the way Amelia's face lights up when she masters a new racing game. I see the way you scrunch your nose when you're concentrating on work. I see movie nights and pancake mornings and silly dance parties in the kitchen."
"George..."
"No, let me finish. You think you're some burden I'm carrying? You're not. You're the best part of every day. Both of you. Even when Amelia's giving me detailed critiques of my qualifying laps or when you're stress-cleaning at midnight before a deadline."
You feel tears forming. "But your life would be so much simpler without us."
"Simpler?" he laughs incredulously. "My life before you was empty. Sure, I had racing, but I came home to quiet rooms and takeaway for one. Now? Now I come home to crayon drawings on my fridge and LEGO cars in my shoes and two people who make everything better just by existing."
"But what about your career? The traveling, the events..."
"What about them?"
"I saw those photos, George. That world... it's so different from this one."
"You think I care about that world?" he moves closer. "You think I'd choose fancy parties over helping Amelia build racing tracks in the living room? Over watching you fall asleep during movies? Over this?"
"I don't want to hold you back."
"You don't," he says firmly. "You push me forward. Both of you do. Do you know what Amelia said to me tonight? She said we fit together like puzzle pieces. And she's right."
You wipe your eyes. "She's too smart for her own good."
"She gets that from her mum." He reaches for your hand, and this time you let him take it. "I know you're scared. I know you're trying to protect her. But I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you make me."
"I don't want to make you," you whisper. "That's what terrifies me."
"Why?"
"Because..." your voice breaks. "Because I love you. We both do. And if you leave..."
"I won't."
"You can't promise that."
"Yes, I can," he says fiercely. "I can promise that every single day for the rest of our lives if you'll let me. I can promise that I'll always come home to you both. That I'll always be there for school plays and birthdays and random Tuesday mornings. That I'll love you both more each day than the last."
"George..."
"You know what scared me most this week?" he continues. "Not just the thought of losing my girlfriend. The thought of losing my family. Of not hearing Amelia's bedtime stories or your laugh first thing in the morning. Of not being the person she runs to when she masters a new racing game or you turn to when you've had a hard day."
You're fully crying now. "When did you become so important to us?"
"Probably around the same time you became everything to me." He wipes your tears gently. "I love you, YN. Both of you. The busy mornings and quiet nights and everything in between. The complicated parts and the simple ones. All of it."
"Even when Amelia corrects your driving technique?"
He laughs softly. "Especially then. She's usually right anyway."
You lean into him finally, letting yourself feel the familiar comfort of his arms around you. "I'm sorry I pushed you away."
"I know why you did it," he kisses your hair. "But please don't do it again. Talk to me instead. Let me prove to you that some people stay."
"I'm still scared," you admit.
"That's okay," he says. "We can be scared together. Just don't shut me out."
From down the hall comes a small voice: "Mummy? George?"
You both look up to see Amelia standing there, clutching her stuffed race car.
"What's wrong, princess?" George asks.
"I forgot to say thank you," she says seriously. "For the best birthday ever. And..." she looks between you both. "Are you staying? For real this time?"
George looks at you, letting you take the lead.
Looking at them, at the man who loves your daughter like his own and the little girl who's already given him her whole heart - you make your decision.
"Yes, love," you say softly. "He's staying."
And sitting there, with your daughter asleep between you and George holding you both like he'll never let go, you think maybe it's okay to be scared sometimes. Maybe it's okay to let someone in, to trust that they'll stay, to believe in the kind of love that builds homes in hearts.
Because some puzzles are meant to stay together, even if it takes a six-year-old to show you how the pieces fit.
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georgerussell63 The best kind of Sunday 🚲❤️ From "I can't do it!" to "Watch how fast I can go!" in under an hour. Couldn't be prouder of my favorite co-pilot. Even if we had a few crashes into the bushes (sorry about that, YN). Worth every scrape and tear for that victory smile at the end. Now she wants to know when we can upgrade to a motorized version... Think that's a conversation for another day
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username1 THIS IS SUCH A PROUD DAD MOMENT
username2 he's protecting her from falling while letting her be brave
username3 george russell: world class driver, even better bonus dad
username4 "My favorite co-pilot" I'M NOT OKAY
username5 the way he naturally stepped into being her dad though 🥺
lewishamilton Next generation driver in training! 🙌🏾
lando should we be worried about our jobs?
yourinstagram Love you both, you troublemakers
username6 GEORGE REALLY IS THE FATHER WHO STEPPED UP
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The garage is a flurry of activity, screens displaying data streams and weather patterns while mechanics rush around with last-minute adjustments. You're deep in conversation with Bono about tire strategies when your phone buzzes with Amelia's FaceTime call.
"Hi baby," you answer, trying to keep one eye on the radar. "Ready for the race?"
"I've got ALL my lucky charms!" She holds up an assortment of trinkets, including the Mercedes keychain George gave her. "And Grandpa's watching with me! He says hi but he's pretending to be grumpy."
You hear your father's distinct grunt in the background and laugh. "Tell him I said-"
"Is that my favorite co-pilot?" George appears behind you, still in his race suit, hair messy from the helmet.
"GEORGE!" Amelia practically screams. "I miss you! Are you going to win today? I told everyone at school you would!"
His face softens in that way it only does for her. "Well, now I have to, don't I? Can't disappoint my biggest fan."
"I drew you a new good luck picture! Mummy has it!"
You pull the slightly crumpled paper from your pocket - a detailed drawing of a Mercedes car with "GO GEORGE!" written in wobbly letters.
"It's perfect," he beams. "Just what I needed."
"Mummy says it's going to rain," Amelia says seriously. "Remember what we practiced about wet weather racing?"
"Smooth inputs, gentle throttle, stay off the kerbs," George recites dutifully. "Did I pass the test?"
"Mmhmm. You can race now."
You both laugh at her solemn approval.
"Thanks, princess. Better go get ready now, okay? Watch out for me on the podium."
"Love you George! Love you Mummy!"
"Love you too, baby. Be good for Grandpa."
After you hang up, you notice George hasn't moved, still staring at the spot where Amelia's face had been.
"George? You okay?"
He seems to make a decision, turning to face you fully. "Move in with me."
Your heart stops. "What?"
"Both of you. Move in with me." His eyes are intense, certain. "The summer break is coming up. I've already been looking at furniture for Amelia's room, there's this racing car bed I found that she'd love, and the spare room would be perfect for your home office, and-" he stops, running a hand through his hair. "I know it's fast, but it doesn't feel fast, does it? It feels like we should have done this ages ago."
"George..."
"I hate coming home to an empty house," he continues. "I hate not hearing Amelia's morning chatter or your late-night typing. I hate that my fridge doesn't have her drawings on it, that my shelves don't have your books mixed with my racing magazines. I hate that when I buy groceries, I automatically get things for three people but there's only me there to eat them."
You glance around the garage, but everyone is deliberately focusing elsewhere, giving you privacy in the midst of chaos.
"The house is too big," he says softly. "Too quiet. Too... not you. Not us."
"Are you sure?" your voice barely a whisper. "This is a big step."
"I've never been more sure of anything." He takes your hands. "I want to wake up to Amelia jumping on our bed demanding pancakes. I want to fall asleep watching you work on race strategies. I want to build that LEGO city she's been planning in the spare room she already thinks of as hers. I want... I want everything. With both of you."
A mechanic calls out the five-minute warning.
"You need to go," you say, but don't let go of his hands.
"I need an answer more."
You look at him, this man who loves your daughter like his own, who makes you both feel safe, who wants to build a home with you.
"The racing car bed better be amazing," you whisper.
His face breaks into that brilliant smile. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You squeeze his hands. "Now go win this race so we can celebrate properly."
He starts to walk away, then turns back. "YN?"
"Hmm?"
"I love you. Both of you. So much."
You smile, feeling something settle in your chest. "We love you too. Now focus on the race, or Amelia will never let you hear the end of it."
"Yes ma'am," he grins, pulling his helmet on.
You watch him walk to the car, your heart full. Outside, the Belgian sky opens up with rain, but for once, you're not worried about the weather.
And as George's car roars to life, as Amelia undoubtedly bounces with excitement on your couch at home (soon to be your old couch in your new home) you think about puzzle pieces and racing car beds and the way love builds itself into something permanent when you're not looking.
The race is about to start, but really, you think, the best part is just beginning.
ahhh my girl im so glad to finally see this in its entirety!! how wonderful and so sweet!!! kimi is baby driver always 🥺🥺🥺 and i adore amelia soooo much!! this was so so wonderful and you did an AMAZING job!!!
you belong with me is one of my absolute favs and now this?! perfection 💖🥹
Franz Kafka, from Letters to Felice
Fandom: Harry Potter (pre-Golden Trio Era) Ship/Character(s): Genfic, Ginny Weasley & Ron Weasley Tags & Such (Tropes, etc): Fluff, character study/development, short oneshot? Main Idea: They don't get chocolate frogs often, but when they do, Ron and Ginny Weasley, the youngest, rush to check what card they have. Vibe: fluffy, excited, childlike Extra Notes: Really just a cute, short fic between ginny and ron and their relationship pre-sorcerer's stone!
thank you :)
word count: 1.4k Characters: Ronald "Ron" Weasley and Ginerva "Ginny" Weasley Fandom: Harry Potter
notes: I called this "Chocolate Frogs", I hope that's okay! I love this idea! Not sure if it's clear, but it happens when Ron is 10 and Ginny is 9. Thank you for being the first person to request <3 it should be up on A03 either today or tomorrow!
THEY DON’T GET CHOCOLATE FROGS MUCH ANYMORE.
They never did, to begin with, surviving on their dad’s meagre salary, but lately, they’ve been getting them less and less. This doesn’t mean Ron doesn’t like them — love them, in fact. Their mum’s call always, “Ron! Ginerva! I have a surprise for you!” always gets the kids running. It’s tradition, at this point — Ginny’s insistence that her name is ‘Ginny’, never ‘Ginerva,’ Ron’s detective smell of each box, and their “three, two, one, card!” upon opening the frogs’ boxes.
It’s been so long — a year, in fact. Ginny, barely eight, still cannot really fathom the lack of money they have. Ron sort-of understands. And this morning feels just like any other. The birds chirp as he wakes up, pleasant calls, and just like every other morning, Ron remembers his great-great-aunt Muriel’s tale of the birds calling for their lording phoenix. They wish, he thinks bitterly as he, not wanting to be caught in the red flame of his mum’s ire, changes out of his pyjamas and into ratty, passed-down clothing. The only thing that marks it as his is the faded strip of paper with just the bare markings of the word ‘RON’ in nearly-whitened ink. It was rich in colour, black, once.
But like everything he owns, it’s not in prime condition. He’s just in the process of pulling on a pair of maroon socks (yes, he does hate the colour maroon, and yes, he will be wearing the socks) when his mum’s voice filters through the door. “It’s time for breakfast, dears!” has never sounded as frightening as it has in the past two years. As money grew tighter and tighter (Ginny kept growing and they didn’t have much clothes to fit her), breakfast meant chores afterwards, so their mother could focus on the bit of ‘freelancing’ she did — an odd sewing project here, a knitted sweater-and-bonnet set for a next-door neighbour.
Langly legs leading him down the stairs, he joins the mob of red that heads to the kitchen. The Burrow, their home, is held up only by magic. How else would the additional rooms protruding from the original structure stay up?
“Hi,” he says to his brothers, George and Fred, though they wink at him before returning to their hushed murmurings. Twins and devious, Fred and George would be heading for their second year at Hogwarts (the brilliant wizarding school in Scotland) on September 1st.
Sometimes, Ron feels excluded from his family. His eldest siblings, Bill and Charlie, have each other, Percy’s the most studious out of all of them and is always contemptuous about remaining with his books, and Fred and George have each other. So Ron sticks by himself or Ginny, his younger sister. It’s a bit embarrassing for his best friend to be his younger sister, but he does it.
“Hey, buddy!” As Ron perches precariously on one of the stools, Charlie — who was apparently already downstairs — reaches over to mess his hair. Ron smiles cheerfully, loading oatmeal, sugar, and cream into his bowl.
After breakfast, they receive chore lists. Ron sighs in relief when he realises he just has to clean out the chicken coops, remove the hens’ eggs, and make sure no gnomes are hiding in the area. It seems that Ginny isn’t as lucky, as she gives a very dramatic sigh and pouts at Mum. Luckily, Mum isn’t facing her, so she isn’t swayed by her only daughter’s child emotions.
With a kiss on each child’s cheek, Molly Weasley watches her kids leave the room to complete their chores. Smiling softly, she starts preparing a casserole she needs to make for the Lovegoods.
Ron rushes out to the yard and towards the coops quickly, so none of his siblings can rope him into helping with their chores. He completes his tasks quickly yet efficiently; when he comes back to the Burrow to give his mum the filled egg basket, Ginny is huffing about only being on her second task — the second out of five. Sucks for her, he thinks, grabbing one of their mum’s concoctions that is supposed to help in warding off gnomes.
He completes that task quickly, and after he carefully replaces the foul-smelling potion, he contemplates his options for a second. He can either go back to Mum and get a new list or go upstairs to his room. Instincts win out and he carefully creeps up the stairs. He’s about to pump his hands and whisper ‘yes!’ when his toes push into a hard stair. The creaking stair, and the bane of Fred and George. Shoot. The squeak is loud, and Ron pauses, not breathing. What fib can he come up with if Mum comes to check?
Thankfully, his mum doesn’t move from the kitchen and Ron, a bit more careful, tip-toes to his room, shutting the door softly behind him. “Success!” he laughs as he falls onto his mattress, letting it wrap him. Ron stays there for a while, staring at the ceiling until his eyelids flutter close once, twice, thrice, before settling into a light sleep.
Three hours later, he’s awoken by a call of, “Ron! Ginny!” He doesn’t move, and Mum calls the iconic “Ron! Ginny! I have a surprise for you!” Ron is up in an instant. It doesn’t matter that the small flame in his heart is re-awoken with hope, the smallest part that hopes reverently that it’s a chocolate frog.
He’s already downstairs, standing at the table, white knuckles clutching the back of a chair, when Ginny finally makes it down. The nine-year-old has an adorable pout on her face, and Molly softens at the sight of it.
Molly beams at her children. She loves them, through anything. Anything. Even though they don’t have much money, she makes due with what she can. She tries to give them all they’d ever want. And she knows it's not ideal, but she works with what she has. Clearing her throat, misty-eyed, she says, “I have a surprise for you.” Ron’s grip on the chair grows tighter, and Molly smiles even wider. She knows that her youngest son is probably aware, and trying to repress his hopes — and it hurts her so much, like a million thorns sticking themselves into her heart, that he can’t wish for some simple chocolate. She’s tried before to recreate the iconic frogs, but they never turn out as well as the original.
“What is it?” Ginny asks with the pretence of boredom, but Molly sees her only daughter’s confusion and faint hope. It hurts.
“Well…” Molly trails off, removing her hands from behind her back. Two chocolate frog boxes are held tightly in her hands. It’s why she baked the casserole and knitted Pandora Lovegood and her daughter Luna matching cardigans for the grand sum of fifteen galleons. (Not that the chocolate frogs cost so much — only a galleon together; the rest of the money, fourteen galleons, would go to Ron and Ginny’s Hogwarts funds.)
Ron’s face lights up with pure, child joy that makes it all worth it. So does Ginny’s, though she tries to hide it. “Thank you!” they both squeal (though they’d both deny that), and each grab one. Together, with a, “Three, two, one, open!” from Ron, they tear through the packaging, carefully putting the box to the side, and pulling out the card.
“Cool!” yells Ginny, brandishing her new, first-ever Jocunda Sykes card.
Ron, grinning, says, “I got bloody Devlin Whitehorn! First one!”
It has been a while since Molly has seen her youngest two so joyful. It always makes all of the extra work worth it — plus, she’d be doing that work anyway, trying to maintain a cosy home. They both repeat extravagant thank you’s, and Molly can’t help but chuckle. Such simple, childish behaviour that would disappear in a few years as they went to Hogwarts and learned more responsibility.
Ron is first, but then Ginny joins. Soon, all three of them are hugging, holding on to each other tightly. Molly feels like never letting go. She loves her family so, so much; she does, like Arthur, everything she can for them. This? This is family.
Family means sticking to each other through thick and thin.
It means never, ever giving up in difficult situations.
That you should always keep pushing to be a better, healthier version of yourself.
Family is such a precious thing.
have a great day/night! :)
