⪩⪨ featuring: lando norris, oscar piastri, george russell, kimi antonelli, lewis hamilton, charles leclerc, carlos sainz and max verstappen
⪩⪨ synopsis: f1 drivers react to their engineers letting you do their radio check during practice
⪩⪨ genre: fluff
a/n: oh how i wish i could actually talk to them through their radio. short blurbs!
➜ lando norris
the second he hears your voice, he forgets he's in the car.
"wait, what?"
you giggle, talking into the headset again. "radio check, lando."
lando smiles, focus back on the track. "bit tacky but we can fix it during quali. also hi, love."
he giggles for the rest of the practice and refuses to listen to his engineers, asking to put you back on (they don't).
➜ oscar piastri
oscar takes a second. you hear him inhale quietly before answering. "radio check loud and clear. hi."
he's much calmer, full attention to the car and the track, but his ears are burning under his helmet and his face hurts from smiling so hard.
➜ george russell
george is locked in, annotating in his head everything he sees and feels from the car for his engineer until his radio goes off first.
"okay, and radio check please."
he blinks, doubting if he heard right or not. "that's... not my engineer."
he stays quiet for a second, going through a curve, then he speaks again with a little laugh, "radio is good. you're distracting me."
he sounds mean, but he was smiling under his helmet.
➜ kimi antonelli
with kimi there is immediate chaos.
"hold on a second... ITS YOU!"
his engineer takes the lead back and tries to get the boy to focus again. "kimi, radio check."
"yeah, yeah — radio works. tell y/n i say hi!"
when he's done with practice he goes up to you and asks if you can do it again. this definitely boosts him.
➜ lewis hamilton
lewis goes soft and sweet as soon as he recognizes your voice through the radio.
"radio loud and clear," he pauses for a second and then: "good to hear your voice, sweetheart."
he absolutely loved the change.
➜ charles leclerc
charles laughs quietly, breathy. he's professional but still affectionate at the same time.
"radio check is good. you sound lovely."
he's smiling like an idiot by the way.
➜ carlos sainz
carlos's brain reboots for a quick second.
"radio check—yes—perfect."
then, unable to resist te urge, he says: "careful there, cariño. you're making this difficult."
his engineer doesn't let you say more, but carlos drives like he's trying to impress you specifically after that.
➜ max verstappen
max reacts the least with his nonchalant personality, which for some reason means the most.
"radio clear."
a pause.
"you're not supposed to be on my radio, love."
he tries to be professional, serious, but his tone was light and you could hear the smile in his voice.
☆ ⠀⠀⠀ ⑅ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♩ ⠀⠀⠀⠀◌ ⠀⠀⠀ ꕤ
i've had this idea for quite a while and i finally got the time to write it out! i hope you all enjoy it <3 the reactions are a little short but it was the idea i had in the first place. something short and sweet. feel free to leave feedback in the comments or my ask and if you want you can even leave a request! not without reading my pinned first :). thats all from me! ciao lovelies 💘
george russell x !estranged verstappen doctor reader (smau/written)
you never meant to fall in love with someone famous. you were busy enough — night shifts, residency, constant studying, the quiet exhaustion that came with being a doctor. george was supposed to be a brief breath of air in the middle of your chaos, a soft little distraction with a sharp smile and far too much charm.
and then he stayed. and then he loved you. and then he asked you to marry him. you said yes privately, quietly, the way you lived most of your life.
but the internet is fast, and f1 fans are faster. one blurry picture of you in the paddock — hair tossed by the wind, george reaching for your hand, sunlight hitting you just right — and suddenly the whole world thinks they’ve uncovered a secret: george russell is marrying a verstappen.
you laugh it off at first. until max verstappen himself stops in front of you, eyes wide with something between confusion and recognition, and says softly, “i… think we need to talk.”
and your whole life tilts.
fc : yaelshelbia on ig
a/n : this is terribly long so grab a snack or somethin. also i combined two recent george requests and realized i've never done a george x reader 😭 (y'all are welcome to slander me for that) but i hope you enjoy and ily all
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doctoryn
liked by kimi.antonelli, georgerussell63, alex_albon and 456,000 others.
doctoryn : since georgie had a minor slip up and the whole world knows im a fiancée now...why not open up the ig! enjoy my life in pictures ☺☺☺
tagged : georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli
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view 81,000 other comments.
username008 : THE RING??? HELLO???? DID GEORGE HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE LOURVE HEIST????
↳ doctoryn : happy to report that he was at a race at the time of the robbery :)
liked by georgerussell63 and kimi.antonelli
↳ username55 : oh she has a sense of humor and she is a doctor. new fave wag omg
username007 : george calling you his fiancée like it was nothing and YOU LAUGHING ABOUT IT??? power couple behavior
liked by doctoryn
username010 : im still stuck on the ring. i need a dollar amount someone pls
↳ username075 : someone on twitter said it is rumored to cost around 1.2 million
↳ username010 : mans got that contract extension and bought a yacht AND a 1.2 million dollar ring. i wanna be george russell
georgerussell63 : i could not contain my excitement my love! you are too perfect to not share with the world xx
liked by doctoryn, kimi.antonelli, alex_albon and lando
↳ lando : nice save georgie
liked by doctoryn and alex_albon
↳ doctoryn : you are so lucky i love you
liked by georgerussell63
↳ georgerussell63 : only the luckiest
olliebearman : ring is bigger than my future...congrats again guys!
liked by georgerussell63 and doctoryn
kimi.antonelli : mamma e papà
liked by georgerussell63 and doctoryn
↳ doctoryn : mio figlio :)
liked by kimi.antonelli and georgerussell63
lewishamilton : Congratulations to the beautiful couple! ❤️
liked by doctoryn and georgerussell63
alex_albon : since everyone is talking about the ring...i want everyone to know that i helped pick it out and I KNEW BEFORE ANYONE!!!!!!!
liked by doctoryn and georgerussell63
↳ doctoryn : maybe next you need to go pick out a ring for my best friend...👀
liked by alex_albon, lilymhe and georgerussell63
lilymhe : my beautiful girlllllllll<3 so happy for you 🥹
liked by doctoryn
↳ doctoryn : my maid of honor 😍
liked by lilymhe
↳ alex_albon : george when am i being asked to be best man??
like by georgerussell63 and doctoryn
↳ doctoryn : you failed the test to be best man the minute you let him open his mouth about the engagement
liked by georgerussell63 and alex_albon
↳ alex_albon : blame his press secretary not me!!!!!
liked by georgerussell63 and doctoryn
babickovaeli : you are going to be the most beautiful bride omg 🥹
liked by doctoryn and georgerussell63
↳ doctoryn : love you my girl 💕
mercedesamgf1 : congrats to our favorite couple! we love you both!!
liked by doctoryn and georgerussell63
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You’re not even supposed to be looking at your phone. Not when you’re standing in a cramped room, hair tied back messily, scrubs wrinkled from twelve hours of nonstop patient turnover. But one of your coworkers bursts in, eyes wide, and shoves her phone toward you.
“Your boyfriend is trending,” she whispers like it’s national security.
Your eyebrows shoot up. “What did he do now?”
She plays the clip, and there he is — George, still flushed from the race, grinning like the sun is stuck inside him. He’s answering some post-race question, blissed out and tired, and then—
“Yeah, I can’t wait to get back home and see my fiancée—”
He stops. You watch the exact second his brain catches up with his mouth.
Your coworker gasps. You choke on air.
He stutters, laughs nervously, moves on like nothing happened, but the reporters definitely notice. Twitter definitely notices. The entire world definitely notices.
You press a hand over your mouth to smother a laugh, your coworker staring at you like you’re hiding state secrets.
“I need to get back to my patients,” you say, cheeks burning but grinning.
You spend the next hour between cases biting back laughter every time your phone buzzes with another notification. By the time you finish assisting in your last consult and finally get a quiet minute, your phone rings. George.
You answer immediately. “Hi, darling—”
“I am so sorry.”
You burst out laughing so hard you have to lean against the wall for support. “George, oh my God.”
“I didn’t mean to say it,” he rambles, mortified, “it just slipped out, I was tired, and I didn’t even notice until I saw Kimi smirking like a menace across the room, and then Toto looked like he’d aged ten years, and—”
You’re wheezing now, trying to breathe. “George, breathe.”
“I proposed to you privately for a reason—”
“And I loved that,” you interrupt gently. “But this? This is hilarious.”
He groans loudly. “I don’t want this to be how you feel pressured into doing anything. And if you’re uncomfortable, I’ll fix it—”
“George,” you say, soft but amused, “I am literally scrubbing in between laughing fits. I’m not mad. I think it’s cute.”
“You do?”
“I do. You were excited. You love me. It slipped. That’s sweet.”
He exhales like you’ve just saved his soul. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. Now stop worrying and get home safe. I have like seven hours left.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you more. Go sleep.”
“I’ll try,” he says, sounding a bit lighter now. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
You hang up, heart warm, and finish your shift with a dumb smile on your face.
By the time you get home, the sun is rising over the apartment building, and you’re expecting to find George passed out somewhere — couch, bed, kitchen floor, wherever the jetlag takes him.
Instead, the entire apartment smells like fresh coffee and something warm and buttery. You push the door open slowly.
George is in the kitchen, still in sweats and a faded Mercedes tee, hair messy from travel and eyes sleepy but sparkling when he sees you.
“Hi, angel,” he says, stepping toward you and gathering you into a hug before you can even drop your bag.
“You’re awake?” you laugh into his chest.
“I made breakfast.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Sit. Shoes off. Scrubs off if you want, but not in a weird way—”
You start laughing again.
He’s flustered. “I meant— okay, yes, in a weird way, but also not. I just want you comfortable.”
You kiss him once, slow and grateful, before changing into one of his hoodies and joining him at the kitchen island. He’s prepared pancakes, eggs, fruit, and coffee. It’s almost absurd.
“You should be sleeping,” you tell him, but you’re already taking a bite.
He shrugs, sitting across from you. “Couldn’t. Not until I saw you.”
You blush, ducking your head. “Stop.”
“Never.”
You both fall into easy conversation. You tell him about the nightmare of your shift: the toddler who refused to open their mouth, the elderly patient who flirted with you aggressively, the nurse who played your engagement clip on loop for the entire ward.
George tells you about the race, how he almost spun, how Kimi nearly fell out of the car at the driver's parade and how Alex has already threatened to tell the entire grid you’re his fiancée just to make him suffer.
Breakfast turns into lingering touches, soft smiles, legs brushing under the table. Once you’re both done eating, George reaches for your hand.
“Come here,” he murmurs.
You curl onto the couch together, your head on his chest, his fingers tracing circles on your shoulder. His heartbeat slows under your cheek. His breathing evens out. Jetlag starts to win.
But before he drifts off completely, he speaks.
“YN?”
“Mm?”
“Will you… come to the next race?”
You blink up at him. “The next one?”
He nods, cheeks faintly pink. “It’s my home race. And… I’d really like you there. I know you’re busy, and I don’t ever want to pull you away from work, but—”
“George.”
He meets your gaze.
“You don’t have to convince me,” you say softly. “Of course I’ll come.”
His relief is immediate, like you’ve lifted a weight off his chest. He pulls you closer, burying his face in your hair.
“You’re my lucky charm,” he murmurs.
“You’re dramatic.”
“And hopelessly in love with you.”
You laugh, settling back against him.
“Good,” you whisper. “Because I’m in love with you too.”
He falls asleep like that — holding you tightly, morning sunlight warming your legs, the apartment quiet and safe around you. And somewhere out there, the world is screaming about George Russell’s fiancée. But here, in your living room, it’s just you and him. Soft. Warm. Happy. Right where you belong.
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Silverstone feels different the moment you step through the gates. You’ve been to races before — a handful, always quietly, always slipping in and out with little attention. But this time? This time you’re walking into the paddock as George Russell’s fiancée, and people definitely notice.
George hasn’t taken his hand off your waist for even one second. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, smiling so wide it almost looks painful. Every few steps he glances down at you like he needs to make sure you’re still here. A couple journalists approach, microphones out, hoping for a quote.
George steps in front of you immediately, shoulders squaring, voice firm.
“We’re not doing personal questions today,” he says, polite but absolutely done.
“George,” you whisper, tugging his sleeve, “I’m okay.”
“I know,” he murmurs, leaning slightly toward you, “but I’m not taking chances.”
A camera clicks nearby and he subtly shifts again, blocking you from the shot until his PR secretary reminds him he actually does have work to get to.
“I’ll take her to hospitality,” She offers.
George hesitates. Actually hesitates.
“George,” you laugh, cupping his cheek for a moment, “go. I’ll be fine.”
He kisses your forehead like he’s leaving for war, then reluctantly jogs off toward the Mercedes garage, glancing back every ten seconds.
She snorts. “He’s going to check the cameras every two minutes to see if you’ve moved.”
You absolutely believe him.
You don’t even make it ten steps inside hospitality before you hear a familiar voice behind you.
“YN!!!”
You barely turn before a blur — and a mop of curly hair — slams into you.
“Kimi!” you laugh, stumbling slightly as he hugs you tight. “I saw you like a week ago.”
“But you’re here now,” he says, squeezing you again. “And officially! Do I have to call you Mrs. George now?”
“No, absolutely not.”
“Good,” he nods seriously. “It sounds weird.”
You swat his arm. “That’s what you took from that?”
He beams. “I’m happy you’re here.”
“You doing okay for quali?”
He shrugs, grinning. “I’m faster when you’re around to keep George calm.”
So that’s what this is — he missed you both. Kimi follows you around like a golden retriever until Bono calls him in for engineering briefings. He waves wildly as he goes.
“Don’t disappear!”
“I won’t!”
“If you leave I’m telling George!”
You’re scrolling through your phone, waiting for George to finish prep, when you hear:
“There she is!”
Lily is the first to reach you, pulling you into a hug.
“Show me the ring,” she demands immediately.
You lift your hand and she whistles. “Jesus Christ. Did he propose or try to blind you?”
“It’s big,” you admit, blushing.
“It’s massive,” Alexandra says as she joins the group, her eyes widening. “Charles could never.”
“I heard that,” Alexandra mutters under her breath but she’s smiling as she hugs you.
Then Kika and Eli come over — and suddenly you’re surrounded by the sweetest chaos.
Kika takes your hand delicately, staring at the ring like it’s the crown jewels. “This is… oh my god, this is stunning. George did so well.”
“Ridiculously well,” Eli adds. “Do you need sunglasses to look at it?”
Everyone laughs, and you feel your nerves melt away. Being here is easier with them — warm voices, big smiles, gentle teasing.
Lily links her arm with yours. “How does it feel?”
“You look like you belong here,” Alexandra says softly.
You smile, feeling your cheeks warm. “I just feel really… happy.”
“Good,” Kika beams. “Then we’re happy too.”
They pull you into a group hug. Someone takes a picture. It’s chaos and soft and girly and perfect.
You make your way back into the garage after driver prep, and George lights up the second he sees you.
“Hi, darling,” he says, kissing your cheek. “How’s my girl?”
You roll your eyes affectionately. “The girls love the ring.”
He blushes. “Good. I had… help picking it.”
“Who helped?”
Alex raises a hand from across the room. “Me. I have taste.” (when is alex not in george's garage or george is not in his?)
“You bought it because Albon told you to?” you tease.
“I bought it because you deserve the best,” George corrects softly.
Your heart melts. He’s half in his race suit, the sleeves tied around his waist. You step closer, brushing a small smudge off his cheek.
“Hold still,” you murmur.
He closes his eyes as you adjust the collar and smooth out the fabric over his shoulders. Your fingers run through the hair at the nape of his neck as you gently pull his balaclava in place.
He leans into your hands like it’s instinct.
“Are you ready?” you ask quietly.
He opens his eyes — clear, bright, focused.
“I am now.”
Your thumb brushes his cheek. “You’re going to be great. You always are.”
He takes your hands in his, squeezing them.
“Look at me,” he says gently.
You do.
“You being here means more than any win ever could.”
You swallow. “George…”
“I mean it.” His forehead touches yours. “You’re… everything.”
Your breath catches.
“Go win something,” you whisper.
He grins. “For you? Always.”
He gives you a final kiss — soft, sure, lingering — before pulling his helmet on and stepping toward his car.
Before he climbs in, he looks back over his shoulder, finds you instantly, and gives you a small wave. And you wave back, heart full. Silverstone has never felt more like home to him.
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f1gossipgirls
4,350,000 likes.
f1gossipgirls : george russell’s fiancée makes her first official paddock appearance at silverstone — and she’s already everyone’s favorite. the couple were seen looking disgustingly in love all morning.
but here’s where it gets interesting… fans noticed that yn bears a striking resemblance to a certain dutch world champion 👀 and after some old family photos leaked on twitter this morning… let’s just say the rumor mill is working overtime. is george russell marrying a verstappen?! stay tuned.
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You wake up to sunlight streaming across your face and the familiar weight of George’s arm wrapped around your waist. It’s quiet, peaceful… the exact opposite of what’s happening online.
You have no idea. You stretch a little, shifting under the blankets, and George mumbles something into your shoulder — still half asleep, curls a complete mess.
“Morning,” he says, voice deep and soft.
“Morning,” you whisper back.
Neither of you check your phones. Neither of you look at the outside world. You get dressed slowly, eat breakfast together, tease George for taking forever to do his hair, and laugh when he tries to convince you his shoes match the pants even when they clearly don't.
You leave the hotel hand in hand. Life feels normal. Perfectly normal.
The moment you step inside the gates, something feels off.
The reporters aren’t shouting the typical questions — they’re staring. Whispering. Looking at you with expressions you can’t quite place. Some of them raise their microphones but ask things like:
“YN, can you comment on the rumors?”
“Any thoughts on the family resemblance?”
“George, how does it feel to marry into—”
“Are the Verstappen allegations true?”
George freezes.
“The what?” he asks sharply.
But PR swoops in before either of you get answers, guiding you down the main paddock walkway with a little more urgency than usual.
“That was… weird,” you whisper.
“I don’t like that,” George mutters, protective instincts flaring. “We’ll sort it out inside.”
You nod, though you’re still confused — and increasingly curious.
The moment you walk into the Mercedes garage, Kimi Antonelli stops dead in his tracks.
He is mid-conversation with an engineer, holding a tablet, when he spots you. His jaw drops. His eyes go huge. The tablet slowly lowers like he’s forgotten what hands are.
“Kimi?” you laugh. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
Kimi looks between you and George. Then back at you.
Then at George again.
“You guys haven’t seen anything?” he asks.
George frowns. “About what?”
Kimi hesitates for half a second — then blurts:
“The internet thinks YN is a Verstappen.”
You blink. George blinks. The garage goes silent for half a beat. Then you snort so loudly one of the mechanics jumps.
“Kimi,” you say through laughter, “that’s insane.”
“I know!” Kimi says, flailing slightly. “But they’re serious! They’re comparing your faces, and someone leaked photos of Max’s family when he was younger, and it’s everywhere.”
George looks simultaneously horrified and deeply confused.
“We don’t even— You’ve never even met— What?!”
You’re still laughing. “Okay, that’s ridiculous. It’s just the internet being the internet. We look like a thousand different people.”
Kimi nods slowly. “Probably. But, uh… it’s definitely the rumor of the day.”
You wave it off. “It’ll pass by tomorrow. They’ve said worse things.”
George relaxes at your nonchalance, sliding his hand into yours. “If you’re okay, then I’m okay.”
You squeeze his fingers. “It’s fine. Honestly, it’s funny.”
Kimi exhales dramatically, like you’ve lifted a boulder off his shoulders. “Good. Because I didn’t know if I should congratulate you or hide from you.”
You burst out laughing again. “Definitely hide from me.”
You spend the afternoon in hospitality, chatting with Lily and Kika, sipping iced coffee, and scrolling through your phone only to see memes — some flattering, some ridiculous, all of them hilarious.
You send one particularly unhinged TikTok to George.
He replies in all caps:
STOP MAKING ME LAUGH. I’M IN DRIVER BRIEFING.
You laugh even harder.
The race itself is fun. Loud. Warm. Familiar. You watch George wave at you before climbing into the car. You cheer during pit stops, clutch the railing when things get tense, and beam when he finishes strong.
George jogs over after parc fermé, still flushed and wired from adrenaline, and pulls you into a hug.
“Good race?” he asks against your hair.
“Great race,” you say, grinning. “And great boyfriend. Well, fiancé.”
He kisses your forehead, clearly relieved that whatever storm is brewing outside… hasn’t touched you. Not yet. You leave Silverstone that evening hand in hand, blissfully unaware of the fact that the rumor won’t disappear.
Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not until Max Verstappen sees it — and starts demanding answers.
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a few weeks later...
It had been weeks of chaos. What started as one silly Silverstone gossip caption had spiraled into something massive — “YN LN looks suspiciously like a Verstappen,” “the timelines match,” “the photos leaked of YN as a baby look eerily similar,” and on and on and on.
By Belgium, the rumors should’ve died. They didn’t.
If anything, they grew teeth.
The press wouldn’t stop. Fans were split between joking, theorizing, and genuinely investigating. And George… George had gone full mother hen, always at your side, always one arm around your waist, always stepping between you and any camera that looked like it might ask something stupid.
You had laughed it off at first. Now? It felt like standing in the eye of a storm.
You and George had just arrived at Spa when another cluster of reporters surged forward.
“YN, do you have any comment on the Verstappen rumors?”
“Is Jos Verstappen your father, YN?”
George stiffened like steel beside you.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he said sharply, guiding you through. “Absolutely not. Move, please.”
You squeezed his hand.
“Georgie, it’s fine—”
“It’s not fine,” he muttered, jaw tight. “They’re crossing lines.”
You had tried your best to forget about it — cheering with Lily, Alexandra, Eli, and Kika during quali, watching George’s lap times, being your usual supportive and bubbly self.
But in the back of your mind, there was a quiet buzzing.
You didn’t like it. You didn’t believe it. You didn’t entertain it. Until someone else did. Someone you least expected.
Max Verstappen did not get nervous. Max Verstappen did not hesitate.
But right now, he was standing ten feet away from you in the paddock, hands stuffed in pockets, shifting his weight like a teenage boy trying to confess he liked someone.
You blinked.
“…Max?”
He cleared his throat once, twice.
“Uh. YN. Hi. Can—can we talk? Privately.”
George stepped forward instantly, taller, broader, protective all over again.
“Why?” he asked, voice flat.
“George, it’s fine,” you murmured.
“No, actually,” Max said quietly. “It isn’t.”
That… was not something you expected to hear from him.
You exchanged a look with George, gently touching his arm.
“I’ll be okay. Just… let me hear him out.”
George looked like he wanted to protest, but he swallowed it down, nodding stiffly before letting you walk off with Max to a quieter hallway behind hospitality.
Max took a slow breath.
“Look… I didn’t want to get involved in any of this bullshit. It’s invasive and disrespectful. But… the longer it went on, the more things didn’t add up. Or… did.”
You folded your arms gently across your chest, bracing yourself.
“Max… what are you saying?”
He pulled out his phone. Not for social media. For photos. Private photos.
Your stomach dipped.
“These are from when I was a baby. Jos kept everything. And when the rumors started, I checked. Not because I believed it — because I wanted to shut it down. But…”
He swiped.
A picture of baby Max — chubby cheeks, soft eyes, blonde hair. He swiped again. Another. Younger still. Swaddled in a blanket.
Then he pulled up one grainy screenshot — the leaked photo of you as a baby. The resemblance was…painfully, unnervingly strong. Max’s voice was quiet.
“You look more like me in these than some of my actual cousins.”
Your throat tightened.
He paused before continuing, carefully.
“When did your mother pass?”
Your breath hitched, just slightly.
“W-When I was fifteen,” you whispered. “I don’t… I don’t have answers. She never talked about my biological father. Ever.”
Max nodded slowly.
“I asked Jos,” he said, jaw clenching. “I figured he’d laugh and tell me to ignore it. But instead he—he got angry. Defensive. Told me to mind my own business. And that’s when I… I realized he wasn’t denying anything.”
Your world tilted.
You gripped your own arms a little tighter.
“Max,” you whispered, “I don’t—I don’t know what to say.”
You had spent weeks laughing this off. Weeks pretending it didn’t bother you. Weeks brushing it aside.
But now? Your chest felt hollow.
Max met your eyes — not as a world champion, but as a boy who grew up with too many secrets and not enough love.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly. “I’m not trying to cause… anything. But if the rumors are true… if Jos…” He swallowed. “You deserve to know.”
You blinked rapidly, eyes burning.
And then footsteps echoed down the hall.
“Okay, we’re done,” George said firmly, stepping between you and Max. “Whatever this is, you don’t get to upset her—”
“George,” you said, voice trembling but steady. “I need to hear this.”
His expression shattered for a moment. Protective. Worried. Aching. Max took a step back, hands raised.
“I’m not trying to take anything from you,” he said quietly to George. “Or from her. I just… think she deserves the truth, if she wants it.”
You exhaled shakily, staring at the floor because it was easier than staring at either of them.
Your life — your identity — felt like it was splitting open.
You whispered: “I don’t know if I want to know the truth.”
Silence hung heavy. George gently wrapped an arm around you. Max nodded once — respectful, distant, uncertain.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Max murmured. “Or if you never are — that’s okay too.”
And then he walked away, leaving you and George alone in the hallway.
Despite the chaos. Despite the revelation. Despite your heart pounding like it was trying to escape your chest— You went on with the race.
You stood beside George on the grid. You calmed your breathing. You placed your hand over his where it rested on your hip.
You tried to pretend the world hadn’t just shifted beneath your feet. But the truth — or the possibility of it — now lived quietly inside your chest. And it wasn’t going away.
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You had tried — really tried — to move on. To bury yourself in normalcy. To kiss George good morning. To go to work. To fold laundry. To pretend Max’s photos and Jos’s reaction and the uncanny resemblance meant nothing.
But every night, when everything else got quiet, your mind circled back to it. And then a Dutch article leaked.
Not speculation. Not jokes. Not blurry fan edits. Real photos.
Your mother — smiling in a sunlit café. Jos Verstappen — sitting across from her, leaning in. The timestamp: months before you were born.
And then the supposed copy of your original birth certificate.
The father’s name: redacted but clearly overwritten at some point.
You stared at your phone until your vision blurred.
By midnight, your hand shook as you dialed the one person you never expected to call voluntarily.
“Hello?” Max answered, voice soft, cautious.
You swallowed hard.
“I want the test,” you whispered.
A pause — but not surprise.
“Okay,” Max said quietly. “I’ll arrange everything.”
George insisted on coming. No hesitation. No second-guessing.
“If you’re doing this, I’m with you,” he said as he laced his fingers with yours.
And so the two of you walked into the private clinic together — nerves bundled in your chest like live wires. Max was already there. Shockingly not alone.
Victoria Verstappen stood beside him, arms wrapped around herself, smiling softly when she saw you.
“Hi,” she said gently.
You blinked. “Hi.”
George nodded politely, shaking Max’s hand.
The four of you stood in the lobby like a group project no one had emotionally prepared for. The small talk was painfully awkward.
Max cleared his throat.
“So… how was traffic?”
“Fine,” George answered briskly. “Rainy.”
Victoria offered a tiny smile.
“At least they opened the new road. It used to be awful.”
You nodded, trying not to implode.
“Yeah. Convenient.”
Everyone nodded. No one made eye contact.
Finally, a nurse called:
“Verstappen party?”
You and Max looked at each other.
“Guess that’s… us?” Max said.
You exhaled shakily.
George squeezed your hand once more, letting go only when the nurse guided you both inside.
It was quick. Swabs. Names. Confirmations.
You and Max sat side by side, knees bouncing in alternating rhythms.
Victoria sat across from you, offering occasional reassuring smiles.
George stood behind you, one hand resting on your shoulder, thumb rubbing slow circles.
When it was over, the nurse told you:
“Results will be ready in about a week.”
A week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. A lifetime.
You didn’t expect Max to follow up. You expected him to retreat into his usual bubble of racing and privacy. Instead… he did the opposite.
On Monday, your hospital administration informed you:
“Mr. Verstappen contracted additional private security for the building. Strictly for safety during your shifts.”
You nearly choked on your coffee.
You texted Max immediately:
Max what is this??
Just making sure the press doesn’t harass you.
You don’t deserve that.
Accept it please.
You did. Because the attention had gotten worse. And his gesture — quiet, sincere — meant more than you could express.
Then Tuesday came.
You received a message from Victoria:
I’m nearby. Tea?
You said yes.
Tea became two teas. A walk. Then tea again two days later. Victoria was warm. Gentle. Curious in the softest possible way. She talked about her kids. About the insanity of Dutch tabloids. About her own messy relationship with her father.
And she listened — truly listened — when you told her about your mom. About the good parts. About the painful parts.
Every time she hugged you goodbye, you felt something heal and ache at the same time.
You, George, Max, and Victoria met again at the clinic.
No one spoke during the elevator ride. Your palms were damp. Max’s knee bounced nonstop. Victoria kept wringing the sleeve of her sweater. George kept rubbing your back, steady and grounding.
The doctor entered with an envelope.
“I have the results of the DNA test.”
Your heart hammered so loudly it drowned out the world. Max’s breath hitched. George grabbed your hand. Victoria whispered a tiny prayer under her breath. The doctor opened the envelope. Read silently. Looked up.
And then said the words that split your life in two:
“Based on the analysis, the probability that you Doctor,"—he nodded to you—“and Mr. Verstappen share a biological father is 99.98%.”
The room didn’t spin. It detonated. Your lungs forgot how to work.
Your vision blurred instantly. Max froze — utterly still — his expression collapsing into something raw and shattered and overwhelmed. Victoria covered her mouth, tears spilling immediately.
George pulled you into his chest, whispering:
“It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”
But you couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Your entire life — your identity — had been rewritten in a single sentence. And then you heard it.
A tiny, broken whisper from Max:
“I’m… I have another sister.”
That was what cracked you open.
Not the biology. Not the paperwork. Not the decades of secrets.
That.
The disbelief. The hope. The quiet, aching wonder in his voice.
You lifted your head, eyes blurry with tears. He looked terrified to approach you — like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.
So you took the step toward him first.
Max exhaled sharply — a sob disguised as breath — and wrapped his arms around you.
Not cautiously. Not politely. But like someone holding something precious they never knew they’d lost. You cried into his shoulder.
He cried into yours. Victoria joined, arms wrapping around both of you, silent tears falling onto your sleeve.
George stood behind you — heartbroken, relieved, protective, proud — stroking your back as you held your newly found family.
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t clean. It was messy and painful and overwhelming. But it was real. You pulled back, wiping your face, still breathing unevenly. Max looked at you with red, glassy eyes.
“Hi,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I’m… your brother.”
You let out a laugh-sob that broke halfway through.
“Hi,” you whispered. “I’m your sister.”
♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚
doctoryn
liked by maxverstappen1, victoriaverstappen, georgerussell63 and 1,750,000 others.
It had been a few weeks since the DNA results. A few weeks of: Max texting you about various nonsense when he was in the sim at 2 am, Victoria checking in every few days with voice notes. You three slowly building something that felt like a real sibling bond — hesitant at first, then warm, then unexpectedly natural.
But when Max sent a message saying:
“Family dinner at my place? Everyone’s coming. I want you to meet them.”
your heart immediately dropped into your stomach.
You read the message five times. By the time George walked into the living room with a mug of tea, he found you staring at your phone like it had personally offended you.
“Baby? What’s wrong?”
You inhaled shakily.
“Max wants us to come tonight. For dinner. With… everyone. Kelly, Penelope, Lily… Victoria’s kids… their mum. His mum.”
George sat down beside you slowly, placing the mug into your hands before curling an arm around your shoulders.
“That’s a good thing,” he said softly.
“I know.” Your voice wobbled.
“But what if they don’t like me?”
George blinked at you like you’d just said gravity stopped working.
“YN.” He turned you to face him. “You are smart, kind, hilarious, strong, warm, thoughtful—Baby, you’re you. Anyone would be lucky to meet you.”
You exhaled, pressing your forehead to his chest. George kissed the top of your head.
“It’s family. And they want you there. Not because of the DNA, but because you’re… you.”
You nodded slowly.
“Okay,” you whispered. “Let’s go.”
Max’s house was warm and noisy before you even stepped inside — children laughing, muffled voices, the sound of dishes and music. George squeezed your hand once before you knocked. The door flew open almost immediately.
Max stood there looking… frazzled. Hair messy. Baby spit-up on his shirt. A dish towel thrown over his shoulder like he’d given up pretending to be put together.
“There you are!” he said, sounding both relieved and wired. “Come in! Please! Quickly! Before someone escapes.”
You laughed in spite of your nerves.
Inside, the chaos was instant and comforting: Victoria was chasing her toddler daughter, who was running around wearing a blanket as a cape. Two older boys were arguing over a toy car. Tom was trying to negotiate with all three at once.
Kelly was in the kitchen holding baby Lily while stirring something on the stove. Penelope sat at the counter coloring, humming to herself.
And standing beside her, smiling warmly, was Sophie.
Your breath caught — she looked so much like Max and Victoria it almost hurt.
Max followed your gaze.
“Oh—Mum!” he called. “She’s here!”
Sophie spun around, eyes lighting up instantly.
Before you could even brace yourself, she walked straight toward you and wrapped you in the softest, warmest, most immediate hug.
“Hello, sweetheart,” she said gently. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
You froze for half a second — and then melted. You didn’t even realize you were hugging back until your arms tightened around her. She smelled like lavender and rosemary. Like someone who had spent years being a mother. You pulled back with a trembling exhale.
“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you for—everything.”
Sophie cupped your cheek affectionately.
“Family is family,” she said. “We’re just glad we finally found you.”
Victoria rushed over next, pulling you into an excited hug.
“You look beautiful!” Victoria gushed. “And oh my god, is that a new necklace? It’s so cute—come meet the kids!”
You were immediately swept into: a three year old who proudly showed you his dinosaur drawing, an five year old who declared George his favorite driver and ignored Max’s offended gasp and a toddler girl who handed you a plastic teacup and demanded you drink.
George played along perfectly — sipping imaginary tea, bowing dramatically, letting the boys climb him like a jungle gym.
Victoria grinned at him.
“He’s going to be a great dad,” she whispered teasingly.
You blushed so hard you pretended to adjust your hair.
Kelly approached you with baby Lily on her hip, smiling warmly.
“Hi, YN,” she said softly. “I’m really glad to meet you. Max has talked about you nonstop.”
Lily, somehow already matching her father’s serious expression, stared you down for a moment… then reached for your hair with grabby baby hands. You laughed and let her. Penelope came next.
She walked up shyly and held out a drawing.
“It’s you,” she said, “and Maxie. And Uncle George. And Victoria. And me. And Lily. And Mum. And Grandma. And Nino. And Jimmy and Sassy.”
It was absolute chaos on paper. You adored it immediately.
“It’s perfect,” you whispered.
Penelope beamed.
“You’re part of the family now. Maxie says so.”
You blinked. Hard. Then hugged her tightly.
Dinner was loud. Warm. Full of laughter. Max kept scooping extra potatoes onto your plate. Victoria kept telling embarrassing Max stories. Tom kept refilling George’s wine glass. George kept giving you that soft, smitten look across the table.
At one point, Sophie said:
“It’s like she’s been here forever.”
And your chest tightened with something that felt dangerously close to healing.
But the moment that broke you completely was when Victoria leaned back, grinning wickedly.
“Hey, Mum,” she said. “Tell YN about the time Max cried because he thought a pigeon was following him home.”
Max slammed his fork down.
“VICTORIA—”
The entire table erupted. Max went bright red. Lily laughed like she understood the drama. And you? You laughed until your stomach hurt.
After dinner, you stepped outside for a breath of fresh air.
Max joined you a moment later, hands in his pockets, expression softer than usual.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
You nodded, eyes slightly glossy.
“I… haven’t felt this in a long time,” you admitted. “Family. Belonging. I didn’t realize how much I missed it.”
Max swallowed, looking down at the ground.
“Good,” he said softly. “Because you deserve it. And you deserve us. And we’re really lucky we found you.”
Your breath caught. Then Max did something unexpected — something that must’ve taken everything in him: He hugged you. Slow. Secure. Brotherly.
You closed your eyes and let yourself sink into it. For the first time, the ache in your chest felt a little less sharp. A little less lonely. A little more… whole. George eventually stepped outside, slipping an arm around your waist.
“You ready to head home?” he asked softly.
You looked at Max. At the house full of loud, chaotic, overwhelming warmth. At the new family you never knew you needed.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “But we’ll come back soon. I… want to.”
Max’s answering smile was small but impossibly full.
“Good,” he said quietly. “Because you’re stuck with us now.”
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You had finally started to feel comfortable in the paddock again. People were adjusting to the news. The media frenzy had died down. You had your new family. Max checked on you constantly. Victoria texted almost daily. Sophie sent you recipes.
And George — sweet, grounding George — held your hand through it all. So when you and George walked into the paddock together, laughing softly about something Kimi had posted, you felt… okay.
Safe. But then you heard your name. Sharp. Too unfamiliar.
Too cold.
“YN.”
Your entire body went rigid. George turned instantly, hand tightening around yours. And there he was. Jos Verstappen. Older in person than you expected. Harsher. Eyes calculating in a way that made the air thicken.
You hadn’t seen him since the truth came out. You never intended to. You didn’t owe him anything. But now he was walking toward you with a look that made your stomach lurch.
“YN,” Jos repeated, stopping in front of you. “We need to talk.”
You didn’t speak. Your throat closed. Your palms went cold. George shifted slightly, stepping half in front of you.
“She doesn’t want to talk,” George said calmly but firmly.
Jos scoffed. “This isn’t about you.”
Before George could answer, a blur of navy appeared between you. Max. He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t pause. Didn’t breathe.
He stepped directly into Jos’s path — physically blocking you from view. The shift in his expression was instant and terrifying. Gone was the soft, tentative brother you’d grown close to.
This was Max Verstappen, the one the entire grid feared when pushed too far.
“What are you doing?” Jos demanded. “I’m speaking to my—”
“No.” Max’s voice was ice. “Don’t say it. You lost the right.”
Jos glared. “She is my daughter—”
“She is none of your concern.”
Jos took a step forward. Max took a step forward too — faster, sharper — chest brushing Jos’s in a way that made even passing mechanics stop and stare.
“Whatever you want from her,” Max said, voice low and lethal, “the answer is no.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” Jos snapped.
“I don’t care,” Max shot back. “And she doesn’t owe you anything.”
Your breath caught. Jos tried again.
“I just want to—”
“Stop.” Max’s voice cracked with something raw and dangerous.
“You had twenty something years. You didn’t want her then. You don’t get to want anything from her now.”
George placed a steadying hand on your back, but you couldn’t look away. Jos’s jaw tightened.
“You’re making a mistake, Max.”
Max laughed once. Sharp. Bitter.
“No. You made all of them.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. Jos looked between you and Max one last time — anger, regret, bruised ego, whatever it was — and then turned and walked away, muttering under his breath. Only when he disappeared around a corner did Max exhale. Slow. Shaky. Like he’d been holding his breath through the entire confrontation.
He turned to you immediately. The fury melted off him the second he saw your face. His features softened — completely, heartbreakingly.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
You tried to speak, but your voice caught, so you nodded instead.
Max stepped closer. Gently. Carefully. He rested a hand on your shoulder — hesitant at first, then firmer when you didn’t pull away.
“He doesn’t get to hurt you,” Max said softly. “Not now. Not ever again.”
Your chest tightened.
“Thank you,” you whispered, the words trembling. “For stepping in.”
Max looked down, almost shy now.
“You’re my sister,” he murmured.
Like it was still something he was learning to say. Something he cherished. Something he meant.
“And I protect my family.”
George nodded beside you, adding softly:
“Always.”
You blinked back tears — overwhelmed, but safe. Between the two people who loved you fiercely in completely different ways. And for the first time in your life— Someone stood between you and the man who had abandoned you.
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months later...
The weeks blur together in ribbons of color and planning boards and half finished to do lists. Between work, fittings, and the rapidly approaching wedding date, you barely have a second to breathe — but today is the one day you’ve protected on your calendar with your entire soul. Dress shopping. And not just with anyone — with your people.
When you step into the private bridal suite, you swear it feels like walking into sunlight. The room is warm and bright, mirrors everywhere, soft music playing under the hum of excited chatter.
Victoria is the first to sweep you into a hug, already misty-eyed. Kelly follows with flowers she insists are “just because.” Sophie arrives last, pausing in the doorway like she’s worried she’s intruding — until you hug her so tightly she whispers, teary, “I’m so honored to be here, sweetheart.”
Then the chaos parade arrives. Lily, balancing a coffee in each hand and grinning like she’s about to cause trouble. Eli, already filming on her phone. And then Kimi, who practically skips into the room like a child at Disney World.
“I brought snacks,” he announces, dramatically setting down three bags of chips and a container of strawberries. “Lily and Eli said I needed to be useful.”
“You begged to come,” Lily laughs, nudging him.
“Semantics,” he whispers.
You’re already laughing. Your chest feels full in a way that’s new — a way that still surprises you sometimes. Family. Not the one you were born into, but the one that keeps gathering around you anyway.
It is magical. Dress after dress, each one bringing a different reaction:
Kimi gasping loudly every time like it’s the first dress he’s ever seen. Eli fanning her face dramatically. Kelly giving the most supportive, mom-coded compliments humanly possible. Victoria crying. Every time. Lily just looks like she has seen an angel.
And Sophie — sweet, gentle, steady Sophie — sits on the little sofa by the mirror with tissues in her lap, giving comments that sound so achingly maternal they nearly undo you.
“My goodness… your mother would be so proud,” she whispers once, so softly you almost don’t hear it.
You swallow around the ache in your throat.
Hours pass in warmth and laughter and teasing until finally — finally — you step out in the dress. The dress.
Everything goes silent. Kimi’s hand flies to his mouth. Lily is openly crying. Victoria is sobbing into Kelly’s shoulder. Eli pushes Kimi halfway off the couch for a better view. Sophie stands. Just stands. And stares. Her eyes glossy but soft. She walks toward you slowly, like approaching something delicate.
“Beautiful,” she murmurs, smoothing the fabric near your waist. Her voice wavers. “You look… absolutely beautiful.”
Your chin trembles. And you nod.
“This is the one.”
Everyone cheers, and you end up wrapped in a pile of hugs that smell like perfume and coffee and people you adore.
That evening is quiet. Peaceful. You’re on the balcony of your apartment later that night, the city lights shimmering below you. Lily is curled against your chest, half asleep, her tiny breaths against your collarbone grounding you.
You don’t hear the sliding door until someone steps out. Max.
He’s holding two mugs of tea — one for you, one for himself — and sets them down on the ledge before joining you.
He doesn’t speak at first. Just leans on the railing beside you, looking out at the skyline. The soft glow of the city reflects in his eyes.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“I think so,” you whisper.
And for a moment, that’s enough. Just the two of you, breathing the same cool night air, listening to the soft noises of the apartment behind you.
But something inside you has been building all day — a knot of emotion, fear, longing, grief, love — and it pushes its way up your throat.
You look at him. Truly look at him. Your brother. Your miracle. Your safe place.
“Max,” you say softly, your voice trembling. “Can I… ask you something?”
He straightens immediately, eyes sharpening with concern.
“Of course.”
You swallow hard.
“I…” Your voice catches. “I don’t have a parent to walk me down the aisle. And I’ve been trying not to think about it but today—”
You break. The tears come quietly, sudden and unstoppable.
Max’s face falls. “Oh, sweetheart…”
He reaches for you, his big brother instincts taking over effortlessly. He slips Lily into his arms with all the gentleness in the world — as if she’s made of spun sugar — so you can wipe your face.
You breathe shakily.
“I want it to be you,” you force out, voice cracking. “If you want to. If you’d be okay with that. I just… you’ve become… everything I wished a brother would be. And it would mean so much to me if—”
You don’t finish.
You can’t.
Max steps forward and pulls you into a hug — tight, grounding, protective — careful not to jostle the baby in his arm. His voice is thick when he speaks.
“Of course I will,” he whispers into your hair. “Of course I will. I’d be honored. Truly honored.”
You sob harder, hands fisting in the back of his shirt.
He presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“You’re my sister,” he murmurs, steady and sure. “And I’m going to be there for every moment you want me for. Always.”
When he pulls back, his eyes are shining too — and he laughs softly at himself, wiping at them with the back of his hand.
“Look at us,” he jokes weakly. “Two emotional disasters.”
“Shut up,” you sniff.
He nudges your shoulder gently. “I love you, you know.”
“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling through tears. “I know.”
As you stand together — Max holding Lily, you leaning into his side — the city humming quietly beneath you, you feel something inside you finally settle. Not fixed. But healing. Healing and getting the peace you both should've had as children.
♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚
doctorynrussell & georgerussell63
liked by maxverstappen1, kimi.antonelli, victoriaverstappen and 12,090,000 others.
doctorynrussell : officially mr and mrs russell and happier than ever<3
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user has disabled comments on this post.
♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚
The day you’ve been imagining — planning, dreaming, and sometimes panicking over — has finally arrived.
The room is alive with laughter, chatter, and the quiet chaos of all your favorite people helping you get ready.
Victoria fusses with your hair, brushing soft strands away from your face and adding final curls, while Sophie checks your makeup with meticulous care, her hands gentle and steady.
Lily is crouched near the floor, carefully tucking your shoes away and reminding everyone not to trip. Eli is hovering with the veil, draping it perfectly, and Kimi… well, Kimi is in his own world, holding up a mirror and offering a running commentary on every angle of the dress.
“You look… like a princess,” he says finally, grinning. “Like… a royal princess.”
You laugh lightly through your nerves, feeling a little dizzy from the love in the room. This is your family now — messy, loud, warm, real.
When the bustle calms, Max steps aside, waiting for a moment alone with you.
You take a deep breath, smoothing the skirt of your gown. “I’m… nervous,” you admit, voice soft.
Max smiles, his expression gentle but protective. “Of course you are. But look at you — calm, beautiful, strong. You’ve got this. And I’ve got you.”
“I… thank you,” you whisper. “For everything. For walking me down the aisle.”
He nods, emotion catching in his throat. “It’s an honor, YN. You’re my sister. Today, tomorrow, always — I’ll be there for you.”
You rest your forehead against his chest for a moment, taking in the steady beat of his heart. For the first time since discovering your family, the knot of anxiety in your chest loosens.
Outside, guests are seated in a sun-dappled garden, flowers spilling from every corner. Cameras are tucked discreetly in pockets, but most of the focus is on the ceremony itself — intimate, meaningful, and brimming with love.
Kimi and Ollie are tasked with being the ring bearers. Chaos ensues almost immediately: Ollie trips over the hem of the aisle runner, nearly sending the pillow flying. Kimi tries to guide him, tugging his sleeve, whispering frantic instructions, but Ollie is determined to march forward in his own time.
The guests laugh quietly, and you can’t help but giggle behind your bouquet.
Then there is Max, standing tall, looking impossibly proud and emotional, waiting for you. His hand reaches for yours, and it feels like coming home.
Victoria and Sophie are seated nearby, hands clutched together, tears spilling freely. They’ve watched Max grow into the fiercely protective brother who helped you through so much, and now — seeing him in this moment — their hearts can’t contain it.
The music begins, but it’s the quiet squeeze of Max’s hand that keeps you centered.
When you reach the end of the aisle, you take a deep breath, meeting George’s eyes. His smile is soft, awed, and completely his own. You slide your hand into his, fingers interlacing naturally, and for the first time, the nerves melt away completely.
The ceremony ends, vows whispered, rings exchanged. You and George steal a quiet moment at the edge of the reception space, hidden just behind a flowering arch.
George lifts your hand, brushing a stray curl from your face. “You’re incredible,” he whispers. “You’ve made me so lucky.”
You laugh softly, resting your head against his chest. “I feel the same. Today, all of this… feels right.”
He kisses the top of your head gently. “Let’s make sure it always does.”
You smile against him, heart full, soul at ease, ready to start this next chapter together.
"Let us go celebrate, Dr. Russell."
The reception is lively and perfect chaos — a celebration of love, family, and your new life.
Max and Victoria can’t stop bragging about you. “Our sister is a vision,” Max says to anyone who will listen, proudly pointing to you and George as you dance together. “Look at her — just… incredible.”
Sophie is there, radiant, welcoming everyone with warmth and laughter, treating you like the daughter she’s longed to embrace.
Lily and Eli are dancing on the sidelines, giggling and cheering. Kimi is nervously attempting a slow dance with Victoria's youngest, while Ollie is reenacting the ring-bearer chaos of earlier for anyone who will watch.
The food is abundant, the music lively, the toasts heartfelt and hilarious. George and you share private smiles between conversations, sneaking small moments to steal each other’s hands or laugh over inside jokes.
Your new family surrounds you — Max beside you, Sophie hugging you every five minutes, Victoria constantly checking that everyone has a drink and feels included. The children are running around, sticky fingers and laughter filling the air.
Even half the grid is in attendance — smiling, teasing, and celebrating. They marvel at how natural you are in this world, how the love between you and George radiates, and, increasingly, how seamlessly you fit into this extended, found family.
The night stretches on in laughter, dancing, and countless shared smiles — a beautiful, chaotic, emotional celebration of the life you’ve built together.
And as you sway in George’s arms under the fairy lights, surrounded by your siblings and friends, you realize that this — all of this — is exactly where you were meant to be.
summary: as erling haaland rises to international fame during the world cup, fans start to realize that his sister has had a very public crush on a certain f1 driver for years
pairing: haaland!sister!model!reader x george russell
fc & warnings: none & very poorly translated norwegian (feel free to correct me if you know the language!) and slightly suggestive. you are responsible for the content you consume.
masterlist | pt. 2
ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ
-2024-
ynhaaland has made a post
liked by erling, yourbff, isabellaa, philfoden, niamhcharles17, ilonamaher, kevindebruyne, and 35,944 other
ynhaaland: thanks to my stinky brother for sponsoring this trip so i could see my pookie bear win and see a race for the first time in person instead of from my sitting room 💕
view all comments
yourbff: was HE in the garage when you were there?
ynhaaland: N O !!!!!!
user1: prettttyyyyy girl!
yourfriend1: hope someone warned that bloke to be anywhere but the merc garage when you were there......
ynhaaland: ok RUDE 😭
yourfriend1: kidding bb 😘
user2: footy and f1 crossover! just what i like to see
erling: make your obsession more obvious
ynhaaland: hi georgerussell63 🥰
erling: maybe one day he'll notice ya
judebellingham: and yet no photos of the brother who sponsored?
ynhaaland: you know what he looks like no?
user3: definitely the prettiest haaland
erling: hey...... thats clearly me
-2025-
ynhaaland has made a post
liked by judebellingham, yourbff, dior, mancity, isabellaa, johnstones5, jackgrealish, kevindebruyne, erling, and 85,453
ynhaaland: from the monaco gp with love (dw i did visit the mercedes garage again) 💕
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yourbff: last slide is a jump scare 😭
ynhaaland: sorry should have put a trigger warning
user1: your commitment to having a celebrity crush despite also being a celebrity is my fav thing
isabellaa: så pen [so pretty]
ynhaaland: jeg elsker deg [i love you]
user2: you two are maybe the coolest brother sister duo
erling: and before you ask! NO! she had NO LUCK getting a certain someone to notice her.
ynhaaland: can you not?
odegaard.98: i mean im still available if hes not y/n/n 😌
erling: we've talked about this martin
user3: fr the only nepo baby wag i want to see in f1 🙏🏻
kevindebruyne: you know i love you y/n/n but this is getting embarrassing. do you want me to just dm him? he follows me!
ynhaaland: KEVIN NO
erling: kevin yes!
user3: kdb really said ,,, and what if we just called taylor up? 🤔
user4: that blue dress is everything on you wtf
-2026-
ynhaaland has made a post
liked by erling, yourbff, dior, mercedesamgf1, herrelandslaget, brfootball, mancity, isabellaa, and 876,142 others
ynhaaland: how do i make the world cup about me? btw good luck i guess erling ... i guess its cool that you've made it this far or something idk....
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yourbff: people liking your brother is beyond me why he suddenly got 8 billion followers
ynhaaland: beats me.....
erling: yourbff dont make me pull out the embarrassing photos i have of you from when you were 12 for those 8 billion peope
user1: i'm an og fan pls don't forget me now that you have 3.5 million new followers
isabellaa: it should be about you for real
ynhaaland: and this is why i love you more than him!
erling: really?
user4: hey ynhaaland not alarm you but the mercedes admin is in your likes
ynhaaland: girl i cant talk here .... jude bellingham app me rn
user15: wait why are the haaland siblings both so funny im crying
odegaard.98: wear my jersey next?
ynhaaland: i would if you would give it to me !
erling: martin bro we talked about this
user12: whoa who knew haalands sister was so gorgeous 😍
erling: girl bye
ynhaaland: bye bye big man!
user13: we've unlocked another haaland
ynhaaland has posted to their private story
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yourbff: i can't stop laughing
ynhaaland: ok well stop ...... bc what if he sees
yourbff: you know darn well thats exactly what you want
ynhaaland: CLOCKED my tea immediately
youfriend1: not the f1 gossip accounts finding you hahaahah
ynhaaland: and bc of this,,, these tweets are blowing up now
isabellaa: it was only a matter of time
ynhaaland: i am cringe and i am free
erling: so can kdb message george now or what
ynhaaland: no old man kevin can NOT message my fake internet bf
erling: wait lemme screenshot and put this on my story and tag both of them
ynhaaland: ERLING NO!! SVAR PÅ TELEFONEN!!!! [answer the phone]
judebellingham: L O L
ynhaaland: dont laugh at me judy
yourfriend2: incredible
ynhaaland: im here all week!
britishvogue has made a post
liked by yourbff, ynhaaland, erling, isabellaa, ilonamaher, odegaard.98, mercedesamgf1, lando, iamrebecca and 823,235 others
britishvogue: we had the opportunity to sit down with one of fashion's most in-demand models and the internet's newest obsession, y/n haaland. fresh off norway's historic world cup run, she reflects on watching her brother, erling, chase one of football's biggest trophies, navigating life as part of one of sport's most recognisable families and carving out a career entirely her own.
from growing up in a household where sport was a second language to her surprising obsession with formula 1, y/n opens up about the athletes she admires, the competitions she never misses and why race sundays have become a non-negotiable in her calendar.
read the full conversation at the link in our bio.
photographed by photographer and styled by stylist.
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yourbff: my girl is in vogue!!!!
ynhaaland: MWAH 💋
user1: beautiful, gorgeous, perfect, amazing
ynhaaland: dream come true! thank you for having me 💕
britishvogue: it was our pleasure!
user2: NOT HER TALKING ABOUT GEORGE RUSSELL IN VOGUE HAHAHAH
erling: who is this?
ynhaaland: this is patrick
user4: check your jude bellingham app dms ynhaaland
mercedesamgf1: should we check ours too?
user4: Y/N HELLO
ynhaaland: oh! hi user4 & mercedesamgf1! fancy seeing you here! i'm available in a couple weeks for the hungarian grand prix by the way :)
odegaard.98: congrats ynhaaland! a shame you didn't mention your brothers amazing teammates like myself but i will forgive you 😌
ynhaaland: awww marttyyyy!! i didnt have enough time to talk about you but know ily 💕
odegaard.98: i know you're lying vennen [darling]
user12: you guys forgot to mention how she might be one of the funniest people on the internet
user14: i love that the article also talks about how she had a pretty successful football career too but decided to try her own thing
ynhaaland has posted a private story
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yourbff: RED ALERT RED ALERT RED ALERT
ynhaaland: did you hear me scream at the top of my lungs
yourbff: omg that was you?
erling: block me first
ynhaaland: done
odegaard.98: just know i voted no because id rather you post it for me
ynhaaland: i know marty
kevindebruyne: its about time......
ynhaaland: heheeh i know! ill keep you and michele updated
kevindebruyne: oh thats ok.... just keep michele updated not me too.. matter of fact take me off this story
ynhaaland: kevin please... now is not the time! i need my favorite big brother to see all of this!
isabellaa: YEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSS I KNOW JUST THE PIC TOO
ynhaaland: WHICH ONE?!?! I WAS GOING TO TTEXT YOU FOR HELP
isabellaa: the one i took of you at the pool few days ago. hold on lemme text
yourfriend1: omg not only him but mercedes AND LANDO NORRIS!!! get me lando's number im BEGGINGGGGGGG
ynhaaland: im on it baby dont worry
judebellingham: can i be in the wedding?
ynhaaland: yeah! can you be my maid of honor?
judebellingham: as long as i get to kiss your brother at the end of the night
ynhaaland: DEAL!
ynhaaland has posted to their story
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user1: i just know this is because george followed
yourbff: god damn you are one gorgeous lady 😍
ynhaaland: thanks baby girl 😘
user4: queen you are glowing and gorgeous
georgerussell63: hey! heard you might be free the weekend of the hungarian grand prix?
ynhaaland: hi george! i am free that weekend and was thinking about visiting hungary. will i see you there?
georgerussell63: you will for sure see me. hungary is perfect this time of year!
georgerussell63: i'll leave some passes for you and a friend. care to get drinks with me on that thursday night?
ynhaaland: i'd love to
georgerussell63: i booked you a suite at the four seasons in budapest. i'll pick you up at 7 on that thursday 😊
user19: body tea, hair tea, bathing suit tea
lando: if he fumbles lmk
ynhaaland: hahaahahah hi lando
lando: hey y/n
user10: are you sure you need an f1 man? i can stand in if needed
isabellaa: im about to start drooling 🤤
ynhaaland: ISABELLLLLLLLLALLALLLALALAALLAL IT WORKED IT WORKED IT WORKDE. HE BOOKED ME A HOTEL AND IS GIVING ME PASSES TO THE RACE
isabellaa: OMGMFGKJN FACE TIME ME RN CAN I PLS COME W YOU
erling.priv: why didnt you also block my private 😔
ynhaaland: i hate you
user22: good lord
ynhaaland has posted to their story
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user1: omg its happening
erling: you stole my girlfriend and my plane and for what
ynhaaland: for a girls trip duh
erling: right....
user4: go get your man bestie. btw...im hungarian and going to be at the gp.... idk but would love to meet you... ya know if possible
ynhaaland: say less babe! i'll see you at the track on friday 💕
georgerussell63: i'm quite excited to see you later
ynhaaland: and im excited to see you later! i brought a nice dress like you told me to
georgerussell63: good girl , see soon 😊
f1gossip: well ya don't say.....
yourbff: i want a play by play from both you and isa
ynhaaland: he called me a good girl via dm..... this mannnnnnnnnnnnnnnn 😭😭😭🥰🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍😫😫😫😫
yourbff: get out of here
user12: i cant wait to see your outfits for the weekend
ynhaaland has posted to their private story
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yourbff: OMG SPILLLLLL (also you look so gorgeous im screaming)
ynhaaland: WELL first of all... HE SHOWED UP WITH FLOWERS??? like actual flowers 😭😭 then he took me to the prettiest restaurant i've ever been to and he's been such a gentleman all night. opened every door for me, helped me with my coat, pulled my chair out, made sure i was warm, ordered for me after asking what i liked because i was too busy trying not to stare at him 😭 and don't even get me started on how easy it is to talk to him?? it genuinely feels like we've known each other forever. we haven't had a single awkward silence, we've been laughing the entire night, and he's SO funny. like i knew he had a dry sense of humour from interviews but in person?? he's hilarious. AND HE'S SOMEHOW EVEN MORE HANDSOME UP CLOSE????? that man should not be allowed to look like that. but then... he got all shy for a second and started telling me how beautiful he thinks i am 🥹 he literally kept saying he couldn't believe he'd never noticed me before and that he was sorry it had taken him so long bc in his words, "i would've asked you out much sooner." I'M SORRY?????? EXCUSE ME?????? i actually think i'm having the best first date of my entire life.
yourbff: OH MY GOD
ynhaaland: and he asked me to go home with him and ofc i said yes 😏
yourbff: NO WAYAYAYY
ynhaaland: YES WAY
yourbff: i am screaming at the top of my lungs
ynhaaland: ok i have to go he's probably suspicious of how long i've been in the bathroom
isabellaa: you’re the hottest woman alive
ynhaaland: literally wouldnt look like this if not for your help
Drivers Included: Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton, Charles Leclerc, George Russell, Carlos Sainz and Franco Colapinto.
Lando Norris:
He didn’t believe you.
“Swear down,” he laughed, turning the heart-shaped piece of chocolate over in his fingers. “It’s just a stupid TikTok sex trend.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Fine. Don’t take it. But I hope you can handle being edged for three hours when I’m the one who takes it and begs for more.”
That did it.
He popped it in his mouth with a smug little chew. “Tastes like a Cadbury. Bit of mint. Not bad.”
It hit twelve minutes later.
One second he was giggling through a movie with his legs draped over yours on the couch.
The next?
He was straddling your thighs on the living room rug, shirt off, pupils huge, hips grinding down against your clothed core as he moaned—actually moaned—into your neck.
“I feel,” he breathed, pulling his mouth away from your collarbone, “so fucking horny I could die.”
You were still laughing when he ripped your top clean in half.
“Lando—!”
“No, no, no,” he whined. “Need it. Right now. I don’t care. Gimme.”
He dragged your panties down with his teeth.
This Lando? This was feral.
He didn’t even prep you. Just spit, aligned himself, and pushed in with a desperate grunt.
“FUCK—you’re warm, you’re warm, you’re warm—”
He set a pace like he was possessed. Messy, frantic, hips slapping, hands everywhere—your wrists pinned, your thighs shaking, his forehead pressed against yours with insane eye contact the whole time.
Kink unlocked: Overstimulation and begging.
Because once you came the first time, it was like a switch flipped.
“No, no, don’t stop—don’t stop, baby, come on, be good for me, again, again—please again, I swear I’ll die—”*
When he came, it was with a whimper, his whole body shaking like he’d never felt it before. But the worst part?
He stayed hard.
“What the fuck was in that?” he gasped, laughing while flipping you onto your stomach. “Round two, yeah?”
…You didn’t walk for two days.
Charles Leclerc:
You left it on the kitchen counter.
Just a silly little heart-shaped chocolate in pink foil with a note next to it that read:
“⚠️ DO NOT TOUCH — SEX CHOCOLATE. For later. I’m serious.”
You figured he’d laugh.
He’s always teasing you for getting things off TikTok.
You never in a million years thought Charles “Mr. Control” Leclerc would eat it without asking.
So when you come home and find him shirtless, sweat beading at his temples, sprawled across your bed like a painting in distress, hand fisting the sheets while his boxers tent aggressively…
You drop your fucking keys.
“Charles?!”
His head lifts slowly, neck flushed red, pupils dilated to hell.
His voice is wrecked. “Ma chérie… I—what the fuck was in that chocolate?”
You freeze. “You ate it?!”
“I thought you were joking!” he groans, grabbing his cock through his boxers with a desperate, strangled sound. “You left a snack! On the counter! What was I supposed to do?!”
You laugh. You shouldn’t laugh.
But your boyfriend—the stoic, calm, always-in-control Charles—is quite literally bent in half by horniness.
And then he moves.
He gets up slowly, like his own body is too much to handle.
And he stalks toward you—hungry, trembling, growling.
Eyes locked on yours. Lips parted. Breathing like he’s run a marathon.
“You did this,” he rasps, trapping you against the wall. “You put that in the house. You—*fuck—*you knew I wouldn’t resist chocolate. You did this on purpose.”
He grabs your jaw. Tilts your face to his. Licks into your mouth like he wants to taste the sin before he sinks into it.
“Tu vas me laisser te baiser comme j’en ai besoin, n’est-ce pas?”
(You’re going to let me fuck you the way I need to, aren’t you?)
You nod. You whimper.
It’s all he needs.
He rips your leggings down, slides your panties off, then lifts you like nothing.
Holds you up against the wall with one hand on your ass, the other wrapped around your neck—gently, but firmly—and sinks in raw.
You scream.
He growls.
“Tais-toi… Don’t speak. Just feel me. Just take it.”
KINK UNLOCKED:
• Breath play
• French degradation/praise
• Wall sex + size kink
• Delayed orgasm control + possessive dom energy
His thrusts are hard, precise—a rhythm sent from the gods and delivered through Monaco’s most beloved slut.
He’s cursing in French, biting your shoulder, saying things like:
“Tu m’as manqué. Cette petite chatte—putain, elle m’a manqué.”
(I missed you. This little pussy—fuck, I missed it.)
You can’t think. You can’t breathe.
Every stroke is deep and perfect and made to destroy you.
When you cry out—because it’s too much, too full, too fast—he smilesagainst your neck.
“You’re crying?” he pants. “*Mais non, ma chérie—*don’t cry. It’s good for you. It’s supposed to feel like this.”
And then he starts thrusting even harder.
You come with a scream, legs trembling, body writhing—and he doesn’t stop.
Not until he’s filled you twice, not until your tears stain his shoulder, and definitely not until you beg him in French to let you rest.
“S’il te plaît—Charles—je peux plus—”
(Please—Charles—I can’t anymore—)
He kisses your forehead sweetly. Carries you to bed. Tucks your hair behind your ears.
Then pulls the vibrator out of the drawer.
“Non, non,” he murmurs. “The chocolate hasn’t worn off yet, bébé.
He bent you over the counter, dragged your panties to the side, and shoved himself in with a desperate groan that vibrated down your spine.
He started pounding—deep and filthy—his chest pressed to your back, his hand tangled in your hair, his voice shaky and low.
“You gonna take it? Huh? Take it like my good girl?”
You choked. His pace got rougher.
“You’re gonna let me fuck you like this—use you, ruin you—”
KINK UNLOCKED:
• Corruption kink + degradation
• Choking + hair pulling + public risk (open blinds)
• Silent edging/overstimulation
• Possessive virginity-core flipped
He manhandled you like he couldn’t stop.
Thrusting so hard your hands were slipping on the counter, and when you whimpered, he let go of your hair—just to slap your ass so hard your knees buckled.
“Don’t go weak on me now, baby. Not until I say we’re done.”
You came once. Then again. And again.
He refused to stop. Didn’t even slow down.
He came inside you, moaning low and guttural—but stayed rock hard.
Oscar Piastri after sex chocolate is not quiet.
He’s sweaty. Messy. Loud. Obsessed.
When he finally collapsed on top of you, breathless and shaky, he murmured:
“You’re not going anywhere. We’re doing that again. And again. And again.”
Lewis Hamilton:
Lewis knew what he was doing.
He lit candles. Put on a playlist. Set out satin sheets and massage oil like it was a full ceremony.
You placed the little chocolate on his tongue and kissed him slow.
“Think it’s gonna hit hard?” you teased.
Lewis just gave you that smug little smirk. “I don’t need the chocolate to ruin you, baby. But I’ll let it enhance the experience.”
Ten minutes in, he was already kissing down your stomach.
Fifteen minutes in, he was eating you out so slowly you were shaking from restraint.
But at the twenty minute mark?
He flipped.
His calm, sensual energy turned into dirty spiritual chaos.
He was fucking you with two fingers, mouth on your clit, grinding his hips into the mattress like he was the one being touched.
“Feel that?” he rasped. “That’s me inside you already—and I haven’t even started.”
When he finally pushed his cock into you, he did it with a slow, intentional roll of his hips that made you see stars.
“Let me make you transcend, love. I wanna fuck you into another plane.”
KINK UNLOCKED:
• Tantric edging + praise kink
• Mirror sex + nipple play + temperature play (warm oils, cool fingers)
• Throat fucking (gentle but deep)
• Long, slow, multiple orgasms
• High-intensity eye contact and spiritual daddy energy
He had you in positions you’ve never even seen before.
He lifted your legs, curved your back, laid you out with a vibe pressed to your clit while he drilled into you at a luxurious pace—stretching you out until your brain short-circuited.
You came hard. Then again. Then again with his tongue between your thighs and his fingers inside you.
He licked every drop of his own come off your stomach with deep reverence.
And just when you thought he was done?
He rolled you onto your side. Bit your shoulder. And whispered:
“You’re not going to sleep tonight, sweetheart. I’ve got plans.”
Max Verstappen:
You were warned.
Max took the chocolate without even asking what it was. Just bit into it, eyes still on the sim rig screen, and said:
“Tastes kinda bitter. What is it?”
You froze.
“…Max. That was sex chocolate.”
He blinked once. “Like Viagra?”
“Worse.”
He smirked. Shrugged. “Good.”
**Fifteen minutes later—**he was already twitching with tension.
He stalked into the bedroom shirtless, flushed, jaw tight, arms flexing as he stared you down.
“Take your fucking clothes off.”
“Max—”
“Now.”
You did. You didn’t question it.
Because whatever was in that chocolate had turned Max into a full-blown, primal predator.
He shoved you onto the bed, yanked your thighs apart, and stared at your pussy like it was his next podium finish.
“You’re wet already?” he scoffed. “Didn’t even touch you yet. That’s pathetic.”
Then he spit on it. And ate you out like a punishment.
Fast. Rough. Zero mercy.
You came screaming. He didn’t stop.
When he finally slid in, it was brutal—deep thrusts, rough grip on your hips, his voice ragged in your ear as he pounded into you like he was trying to break the bed.
“You wanted to fuck a world champion? You better act like it.”
KINK UNLOCKED:
• Degradation + primal dom + forced overstimulation
• Spit play + spanking + rough grip marks
• Breath play and crying kink (because he wants you to sob)
• Edging + fearplay light (you like the threat of him, even when he’s gentle afterward)
He flipped you face down. Pressed his palm between your shoulder blades. Fucked you so hard your arms gave out.
And when you whimpered?
“No. Take it. I’m not done yet.”
He came with a low growl—then slapped your ass so hard it echoed.
But he didn’t go soft. Not even close.
“You’re not leaving this bed tonight.”
You came six times.
He didn’t even kiss you until round three.
Just whispered: “Mine.”
Carlos Sainz:
You dared him.
“I bet you couldn’t handle the chocolate. You’re all talk.”
Carlos looked offended. Deeply.
He snatched the foil heart, unwrapped it slowly, and popped it in his mouth—with eye contact.
“You’ll regret saying that.”
And you absolutely did.
Because twenty minutes later?
Carlos dragged you back to bed with fire in his eyes and a hard-on that looked medically dangerous.
He didn’t even give you time to catch your breath.
Shoved your panties aside. Sucked your clit into his mouth and held your hips down while you screamed.
You begged him to stop.
He laughed. “We’re just getting started, mi vida.”
He threw you onto all fours, gripped your ass like a vice, and fucked you from behind deep and controlled—one hand tangled in your hair, the other smacking your thigh.
“That’s it. That’s how I like it. Let them hear you.”
KINK UNLOCKED:
• Praise in Spanish + breeding kink energy + DDLG softness layered under filth
• Hair pulling + spanking + body worship (he still calls you beautiful while railing you)
• Choking + mirror play (he makes you watch)
• “You’re mine” possessiveness in both languages
He bit your shoulder. Told you to keep your hands flat on the mattress.
If you moved? He started over.
You came once? He wanted two more.
“No lloriquees ahora. Tú querías esto.”
(Don’t whine now. You wanted this.)
He came inside you, held it there, then started rubbing your clit again while still inside.
“Otra vez, baby. Dámelo otra vez.”
(Again, baby. Give it to me again.)
You were crying and shaking by the end.
He kissed your forehead.
“Good girl. Now flip over—I’m not done loving you.”
George Russell:
George didn’t rush into the sex chocolate.
He researched it. Read the label. Looked up the reviews.
“I just want to know what I’m putting in my body,” he said with a perfectly reasonable smile. “Don’t want to lose control.”
…And then he took it anyway.
Fifteen minutes later, he had you lying back on silk sheets, completely naked and trembling, your wrists tied to the headboard with his Hermes tie.
George Russell was gone.
All that British elegance? Now poured into filthy, dominating, perfectionist-level sex.
“Look at me,” he said, voice low and firm. “You do not come until I say so.”
You nodded quickly. He smiled and kissed your forehead—then spread your legs and slipped two fingers inside you while keeping eye contact.
Slow. Deep. Precise.
He worked your body like a symphony, fingers curling just right, while his other hand trailed up to your throat.
“You’re dripping. Can you feel how desperate you are? Pathetic, darling.”
You whimpered.
He laughed softly.
Then the chocolate hit full force.
His expression shifted.
Suddenly he was flipping you over, arching your back with one strong arm under your waist, and sliding his cock into you with a grunt so deep it vibrated your spine.
KINK UNLOCKED:
• Bondage (tie kink) + obedient praise kink
• Degradation mixed with gentle dominance (“You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”)
• Precision edging—he makes you beg like you’re praying
• Mirror play. “Watch how I ruin you.”
He’d go so slow, you’d think he was being soft—until he gripped your jaw and whispered:
“You move without permission, I’ll start over. Are we clear?”
When you finally came—shaking, screaming, gasping—he didn’t even stop.
He gave you a look and said, “Count how many you can give me. Let’s make it a personal best.”
Then he came on your stomach, wiped it up with a towel, and kissed your hand like a gentleman.
You were tied up for two hours.
Aftercare included feeding you chocolate strawberries… and then round two.
Franco Colapinto:
You left it on his pillow. Wrapped in red foil. A silly little heart.
“One piece = one hour of nasty.”
Franco held it up, smirked, and raised an eyebrow.
He didn’t even ask. Just ripped the foil open with his teeth and ate the whole thing.
“Ojalá no llores luego, mi amor.”
(Hope you don’t cry later, baby.)
You thought he was being dramatic.
But fifteen minutes later, Franco was shirtless. Eyes blown wide. Breath shaky. Hands trembling.
He was standing at the edge of the bed, staring at you like you were dessert—naked, sprawled out for him, waiting.
His voice was low. Like a growl, but prettier.
“Don’t say a word. I want to see you cry before you say a single fucking word.”
And then he pounced.
Mouth on your neck. Teeth. Tongue. Fingers in your hair.
He yanked you up by the throat—not hard, just enough for your head to tilt back—and kissed you like he was starving.
Groaned into your mouth. Licked into it. Breathed, “open, bebé.”
You did.
Spit. Tongue. Heat.
He kissed like he fucked—hungry and dangerous.
And when he finally broke the kiss, he had that glint in his eye. That sinister spark.
“Let’s see if this chocolate’s as crazy as people say, huh?”
“Let’s see if I can break you.”
You didn’t even get a second to process it.
He spun you around, shoved you onto the mattress, and ripped your panties off like they offended him.
Then dropped to his knees.
Tongue on your pussy. Hands holding you wide. No warning.
“Ay, mierda… You’re already dripping for me?” he purred against your skin.
Licked a stripe up your center, then did it again. Sloppier. Wetter.
Moaned into you like it was for him.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this, mi chanchita. Look at you. Moaning like a whore and I haven’t even put my cock in yet.”
You came on his tongue. Fast. Hard. Shaking.
He didn’t stop.
He laughed.
“One. C’mon. You can give me seven.”
He spit on your clit. Slapped it once. Twice. You jolted—gasps turning into sobs.
Then he stood up, eyes dark and lips soaked.
And slid in. Raw.
No foreplay. No prep. Just dominance.
He pushed in slow and deep, watching your face twist, until he bottomed out.
Your hands gripped the sheets. He grabbed your wrists. Pushed them above your head.
“No touching. Just take it.”
And then he started fucking you.
No rhythm. Just chaos. Animalistic, deep, punishing.
Every thrust hit a spot you didn’t know existed. And the chocolate? Had him insatiable.
• Overstimulation (he keeps fucking you through your orgasms)
• Mirror sex (he drags you to the mirror just to watch)
• Breeding kink (“Gonna fill you up. Want it dripping down your thighs.”)
• Crying kink + degradation + praise mix
• Mindfuck dirty talk (“I want you to forget what your name is and only remember mine.”)
⸻
He flipped you halfway through. Dragged you to the mirror. Bent you over the bathroom sink.
“Look at yourself. Look what I do to you. Qué rica te ves toda destruida.”
(You look so good all ruined.)
He fucked you like that, from behind—deep and steady, one hand around your throat, the other rubbing your clit just to watch your face as you sobbed through another orgasm.
“You love it. Admit it. Say it.”
You choked.
He slapped your ass, hard. “Say it.”
“I—I love it.”
“Mírame cuando lo digas.”
(Look at me when you say it.)
You came so hard your knees gave out.
He held you up. Kept fucking.
You sobbed. He moaned. Bit your shoulder and whispered every nasty word you’d ever wanted to hear.
Then he pulled out. Came on your back.
“That’s not the last one.”
Dragged you to the bed. Cleaned you with his shirt.
Then pushed your legs up and went back in.
Still hard.
Still filthy.
Still hungry.
“Give me one more. I want to see you lose your fucking mind.”
And when he was finally done—covered in sweat, glowing with pride—he curled up behind you, kissed your jaw, and whispered,
“You’re mine now, ¿sí? No hay nadie más. Just me.”
summary: being the head of social media and marketing, you deal with the mercedes drivers the most. fans know you by now. well, they know your voice saying “cut that out” but still making it in the final edit. the fans love it, the drivers love it. george says he loves it most, as if he isn’t the one causing all those damn “cut that out” messages in the first place
OR
in which george is smitten with head of social media and marketing, and ruins their social media filming to get them to laugh.
youruser 🔒 their senior driver btw (toto said I can’t post these on main 🙃)
liked by georgerussell63, lando, kimi.antonelli, and 38 others
view 39 comments …
georgerussell63 Where did you get the first one of me? You weren’t even there!
youruser I have spies
georgerussell63 I knew admin was acting a bit strange!
youruser I could sink you with one post
georgerussell63 Can you at least get my good side next time?
youruser you don’t have one but I’ll try 👍
georgerusell63 This is blatant favouritism
alexalbon Everybody was Kung fu fighting in the first pic
youruser karate kid but marginally worse
georgerussell63 What have I done to catch these strays?
youruser exist
lando exist
alexalbon exist
georgerussell63 Right, got it. 👍
maxverstappen1 He looks dumb
youruser should I post yours next??
maxverstappen1 I retract my statement
youruser good
lando this has “no one can bully george except me” energy
youruser it does, bc everyone else sucks at it
alexalbon speak ur truth admin 🗣️
kimi.antonelli emphasis on senior‼️🗣️
youruser maybe get ur license first
kimi.antonelli 💀
lando 💀
lando they did not lie
georgerussell63 Kimi I’m only 27
kimi.antonelli that’s 8 years older than me mate, that’s ancient
oscarpiastri Thank God admin isn’t on our cases like George
lando ha trueeee
youruser you boys are nice to me, keep it that way 🥰
oscarpiastri 🫡
lando 🫡
lilymhe masterpieces
alexalbon wait when did you get here??
lilymhe i’ve been here
youruser lily my bestie ❤️
゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
Fridays were content days, everyone in Mercedes knew that, and somehow, George was still late. Fashionably so, of course. With coffee from the paddock café, and a spring in his step. You looked up from Kimi doing a cup stacking challenge to offer a smouldering glare. You waited until Kimi was done and smiling victoriously at the camera before you spoke.
“You’re late.”
“The line was long!” George argued. You rolled your eyes. George planted something in front of you. A tea. You blinked up at him. “You’re welcome,” George sassed as he came down to sit beside Kimi.
“Mate, beat my record! I dare you!” Kimi beamed proudly at the wobbly cup tower he’d built in fifteen point three seconds. You were still staring at the tea with furrowed brows. Like it had personally offended you. George looked over at you, at the way your nose and brow crinkled as you stared at the tea without blinking.
“You okay?” He asked. “You look like the tea insulted your mother.” You snapped your head up to look at him. To really look at him. George was smiling, in that way he does, the way that he always has.
“You got me tea,” you dead panned. George nodded.
“Yes, I did.”
“You never get me tea.” He liked to rub the fact that he got coffee in your face.
“God forbid a man change.” Yeah, God forbid. You pulled your eyes away from the tea with your name on the side in George’s writing. Not the barista’s writing, like his cup. His writing. That extra step. You blinked back into existence as George laughed at a joke Kimi had said, and he glanced at you. He fucking glanced at you. For confirmation, for something, you didn’t know. You had to get a grip.
“Okay, let’s do this challenge!” You had to pretend like nothing was wrong, that your world hadn’t slightly shifted because George Russell decided to buy you tea this morning. George had done kind things for you before, so it wasn’t new. But his good deeds had never felt so … personal. Kindness could be general, and George’s was. This tea was something else, something closer to something unnamed. You and George had always been close, since his karting days, but you’d always been closer to Alex. George was someone you’d orbited around, collided with on occasion, and became close because Alex thought you both would like each other.
Your worlds had collided in an ugly way, with him being the one to offer you a job, and you feeling like you had to earn it when you already had. Now, four years later, you were in a groove. You had a dance.
This tea, this gift, broke the cycle, and you weren't sure what to do about it.
You filmed George taking down Kimi's tower and re-stacking it as fast as he could, the younger driver cheering him on behind the background. Your viewers loved things like these, challenges that made the drivers seem more human. And when George got too cocky and knocked the tower over, you knew your views would skyrocket.
"So close!" You cheered as George barely lost to Kimi's time. The younger driver held the record.
"It's because he's ancient," Kimi explained as he turned your hands to face him. George reached out to try and cover the lens, mumbling something along the lines of you're so funny, but with the sarcastic drawl the world had come to expect from George Russell.
"Thanks, boys," you shot them as a smile as you thanked them. You knew content wasn't every driver's favourite, but you hoped that they'd find some kind of enjoyment in it.
Kimi gave you a smile and hopped up to his feet. "Best way to start the day," he told you earnestly. You placed a hand over your heart and sent Kimi a smile.
"Grazie, Kimi," the Italian driver had started teaching you a few small words and phrases, integrating them into conversation in a way that made sense to your brain. He'd been excited to show someone the ways his language flowed like water, you'd been eager to learn. Always eager to learn, eager to devour new information.
"You learning Italian now?" George asked, like he genuinely wanted to know the answer. He was leaning in with a gleam in his eyes, the one that came out when he wanted something.
"Kimi's been teaching me," you replied as you sipped on your tea. You pulled the cup away from your mouth with your eyes wide.
"What?" George asked.
"You remembered how I take my tea."
"Of course I did," he replied. "What'd you take me for? Of course I know how you take it. I've known you for most of my life." He looked almost offended at your surprise, that you thought so low of him. You looked down at your hands, resting in your lap, company phone staring up at you. It was still recording.
"I guess I'll just have to keep buying you tea, then." George decided.
"What? Why?"
"Because you clearly think so little of me, I must be doing something wrong." You found yourself smiling at the way he was getting so serious about this.
"I never said that," you defended. "I just never told you how I take my tea."
"Yeah, but you showed me, and I remembered."
"I showed you seven years ago. One time." George nodded.
"Yes, that lines up." Behind you, George's trainer called out for him. He looked up, then back at you. "I'll see you later, yeah? Make sure you get some good shots of me during FP1, yeah?" He gave you a wave as he trotted out of the room. Leaving you sitting, still staring at the tea, with your name in his handwriting, made the way you like it.
You were going to be sitting on this one for a while.
mercedesamgf1 What a sight, George Russell on podium!
liked by georgerussell63, f1, redbullracing, and 906,860 others
view 20,483 others ...
user we are so back!
f1 smashing!
mercedesamgf1 truly wonderful!
゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
You rushed to find him. To have a slice of race winner George Russell before the rest of the world. Heads turned as you rant to catch him before media. When you rounded the corner and saw him, dripping with champagne and all, you shot off towards him. George turned at the sound of you calling out to him, phone in hand, frantically red-faced, and smiled. Smiled wider than on the podium. As you keeled over in front of him, obviously filming, he let himself admire you. Not that you’d ever think it was admiring. You’d give it a nasty word like scheming, or contemplating. George didn’t think he was schemer, but you’d disagree.
“Someone’s excited to see me,” he teased. Your face got even redder. George stood tall and accepted the tiny mic you always carried around with you and stood tall. “Okay, I’m ready for my post-race interview.” He knew you too well. He tilted the mic towards you, letting you ask the question you always did after a race.
“How does it feel, George?” You asked.
“To win the race?” He asked back. A question with a question. A game you’d developed, dancing around each other with skillful ease.
“To be you right now,” you offered instead. Because that sounded nicer. George blinked for a moment before he chuckled.
“Christ, you always have to make things philosophical, don’t you?”
“Someone has to keep you on your toes.” George chuckled again, the mic catching the way his breath seemed to stutter out of him like a school boy. He hoped no one would notice.
“You certainly do that.” It felt like a victory, and you relished it. “Well, it feels good to be me right now. Just won a race, so that’s a bonus. The car had great pace today, and the team gave it their all, and it paid off.” He talked about the team, the track, his skill, Kimi’s drive, and thanked all the people who made it happen. You smiled behind the camera and George forgot how to breathe. A moment of silence, almost too long for George. One that made you furrow your brows as he tried to force himself to stop looking at you like that.
“Are you alright?” You asked, though the mic wouldn’t pick up on that.
“Couldn’t be better,” he assured you. He didn’t want you to worry, not about him. Not ever. “Although, I will say, I wish I had someone to celebrate this win with.”
“You have your team,” you replied. George blinked. Were you that dense? Truly, properly dense?
“That’s not exactly what I meant,” George tried to clarify. “I mean, yes, I’ll celebrate with the team, but I meant a one on one celebration.” He hoped you got it. Oh God, you were still filming.
“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” you assured him. It took everything in George not to scream. He just gripped the mic a little tighter and tried to smile.
“Yeah, for sure. I’ll probably call my mum, she’d love to hear all about it.” Your eyes brightened at the mention of his family. You’d met them before, when you were young and still clinging to the back of Alex’s shirts and wouldn’t look him in the eye. You’d grown so much since then, gotten braver. But not to the point of annoyance. Brave in the ways that counted.
“Tell her I say hi?” You asked.
“Oh, of course, always.” He nearly choked up on the last word. That wasn’t the kind of always he wanted. He really was botching this all up wasn’t he? God he could imagine what the fans would say. How he looked in love. They wouldn’t necessarily be wrong, but he couldn’t have that reflecting badly on you. This video couldn’t be posted, he knew that for sure.
“Do you have any victory words for the camera before you go to media?” You asked, into the mix this time.
“Fuck the haters!” He said it with such emphasis that it caught you off guard. George didn’t swear on camera much, he felt it was undignified, if people still cared about that in 2025.
He watched as your face broke into the biggest smile he’d seen all weekend as you laughed. Not the one you did when trying to be polite, but the full-bodied laugh that made your shoulders shake and tears form in your eyes. The laugh that made him think that he could spend forever with you.
“George! I can’t use that!” You protested through your tears. He still smiled. Even if you’d chew him out for it later. “We’ll try this again after media.” It wasn’t a question because you weren’t asking. George liked that about you.
“You can’t ask me something like that on the spot, love,” he told you. “I go all wibbly.”
“Yeah, well, you and your wibbly are staying after debrief to film some content for the fans.”
“Do I have to?” I wouldn’t want to spend the night with anyone else.
“Yes, you have to.”
“Fine, for the fans.” I’d do anything for you, all you have to do is ask.
“Good luck,” you whispered.
“Don’t need it.” If I can survive talking to you, I can do anything.
youruser 🔒 a trip home ft. gr63 👊
liked by yukitsunoda, kimi.antonelli, lando, and 27 others
view 30 comments …
yukitsunoda invite me next time 🙏
youruser HELL YEAH!
georgerussell63 Who’s that stunner on the bottom right? 😏
youruser idk he followed me on my flight and insisted he could come with me 😑
georgerussell63 It was fun, though!
youruser yes George, it was fun
georgerussell63 👍👍
kimi.antonelli He joined your trip? 😭
youruser he did 😭
georgerussell63 I seem to remember you inviting me
youruser never happened actually ur crazy
゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
“Hi everyone, it’s George, and today we’re making cookies!" Behind the camera, you offer him a thumbs up. The baking cookies had been your idea, something different to spice up the Mercedes social media. Kimi being banned from the kitchen after the last cooking-related video you'd filmed left only George. He'd requested just you behind the camera, to help him focus better. You knew that was a lie. "I've got a recipe from our lovely admin behind the camera, and I've got an hour timer to make, bake, and decorate a car that looks like ... this!" George flipped a photo of a Pirelli tire to the camera.
"And if I have extra time, I'll make a Mercedes logo to give to Toto. Should we get started?" He was asking you, so you gave him a smile and a thumbs up. You made a note to put a timer up on screen in post, to add to the tension. George holds up the Mercedes-branded tablet to read the directions off.
"Okay, so, dry ingredients first. We need flour, baking soda, and salt." You had faith in George, but seeing him struggle to see if something was a teaspoon or a tablespoon cracked you up. You hid your laughs behind your hand as George spilled flour on the counter, dashing it across the front of his team shirt.
"You think this is funny?" George asked you. You tried to shake your head, but a snort escaped you. Undignified, and clearly caught on camera. "Alright, that's it," George dipped his hands in the flour bag and rushed behind the camera. You screamed as he tried to clap his flour-dusted hands in your face.
"George, no!" You scolded.
"George, yes, actually." George lunged for you. You rushed into the camera's view to avoid his assault. The camera picked up George lunging and clapping flour on the front of your shirt as he picked you up, spinning you through the air without a care in the world. You shrieked and held onto his shoulders. George had always been like this, affectionate. Especially when you were both younger, when he needed to show the world that the people closest to him mattered. Now, the world knew their faces, and he had less to prove. That didn't stop him. You didn't think it ever would. Because George Russell loved people, he loved being around people, with the people he chose.
And he'd choose you again and again.
"Put me down!" You shrieked. Outside, through the glass windows, employees had stopped to stare. Some with smiles, others with wide eyes. You saw Kimi waving, which you mirrored. Behind him, Toto stood with his arms crossed, but his face covered by the largest grin you'd seen from him in a long time.
"If you say please," George sassed back.
"When did you get good at negotiation?" You fired back.
"Since last year," he shot back. The night he convinced you to take the Mercedes social media coordinator role, take the promotion, dive head into an industry you never planned on loving. Since that night.
"Fine! Can you please put me down?" You asked. George nodded and gently placed you back on the ground.
"There, was that so hard?" He asked, his cheeks pulled up, his eyes sparkling. He looked nice like this, happy, enjoying life. He always looked good, hadn't he?
"Hardest thing I've had to do," you chastised. George rolled his eyes, but his smile never got smaller. His perfect teeth gleamed under the LED lights. Why did you feel faint?
"How you wound me!" George clutched a hand to his chest, which only spread flour further. You found yourself smiling. Like you always did around him. He brought that feral happiness out of you.
"Enough goofing off, you have cookies to make!" You pointed to the abandoned project on the table. George sighed, his eyes locking in on you.
"I'm down a teammate, help me out?"
"You want me to help?"
"Yeah, you're a great baker! Besides, this challenge was technically made for two." You tapped your chin. You turned around, where Toto still stood tall and firm. You pointed to the table, the question hanging in the air. Can I join him? Toto nodded.
"I've been given permission, let's do this!" You jumped in front of the camera, adding the apron meant for Kimi to your stained Mercedes jumper. George bumped your shoulder with his, you looked up at him.
"Okay, let's make the best cookies you've ever seen!" George cheered. You found yourself giggling as you instructed him to mix, showing him how to knead cookie dough. George listened, nodding intently. You split your dough into two balls, one for you, one for him. he mimicked the way you pushed and rolled the dough, laying it out, ready to be cut.
You and George worked well together, not needing to communicate before the other understood. It had always been like that, even when you'd been closer with Alex, when George was someone you existed around, not with. He was good at understanding people, you most of all. You never needed to tell him when you were in a bad mood, he just knew. You were twenty-two when you learned that he didn't do that for everyone. You'd kept it to yourself since. Keeping something just for the two of you. Even if the possibility of you two had always been impossible, you'd pretended that special treatment was enough.
Pretending he annoyed you had always been easier than being vulnerable. But how could you be anything but that when he smiled at you and dabbed icing on your nose?
"What if I made a pink tire?" George asked.
"You go girl, slay."
"Noted, 'slay' it is." You snorted. "What?" He asked, his attention drifting from the pink tired he was decorating to you, face splotched with blue and pink icing, mostly from him. He tried not to stare, he really did.
"Just you, you're being funny again."
"I'm always funny, love," George shot back. "You just don't appreciate good humour."
"I understand good humour just fine," you mumbled back, still focused on your cookie. You were making cookies of Kimi and George, trying to get every detail right. George watched you tongue slide out between your lips, your brows furrowed in concentration, and he let himself imagine. That this could be normal. This could be everything. In a kitchen in an apartment you decorated, making sweets, probably somewhere in the UK, happy, together.
A thought he'd had since he was fourteen. Never spoken out loud. He always had a feeling that you knew, somewhere deep down.
"Is that me?" He asked, his eyes snapping to the cookie you were occupied with.
"I'd say it's pretty accurate," you held up the cookie beside his face. George raised a brow in a quizzical look.
"I like to think I look better than the cookie," George mused.
"Wait, can I get a photo of this?" You were already reaching for your phone, discarded on the counter.
"For Mercedes or your private?" George joked as you pulled your phone out.
"Just for me," you whispered as you snapped the photo of George holding the cookie, mimicking the expression you'd painstakingly drawn in icing. George's smile turned soft as you turned the phone to show him.
"It does kind of look like me," he mused.
"I knew you'd come around." It didn't really look like him. He was just agreeing with you because he loved seeing you smile. And if saying that he looked like a sugar cookie made you laugh, then he'd do it a thousand times.
mercedesamgf1 Fun fact of the day: George Russell can bake! Check out our newest YouTube video now!
liked by georgerussell63, youruser, kimi.antonelli, and 2,460,680 others
view 197,594 comments ...
user okay but the sudden jump cut from george being alone to admin (i think) baking with him took me out
user yeah that's their head of social media! they prefer to have their face blurred for privacy but that's them fs!
user he probably forced them bc kimi's banned from the kitchen
user the way he was looking at admin during the decorating segment tho??? can we talk about that??
user oh i KNOW he was so soft that entire video
user whoever blurred admin's face when i find you
user THERE'S SOMETHING THERE i scream as i'm pulled off stage
user the cut from them being mostly clean to admin and george being COVERED in icing. LEAK THE FOOTAGE
user i need to know what happened
user oh to have been a fly on the wall in that room
georgerussell63 Toto approved of the pink tires!
user as he should
mercedesamgf1 Pink tires next year?
user admin i like the way you think
kimi.antonelli Thank you for the cookie that looked like me, admin!
mercedesamgf1 Treat Cookie Antonelli kindly!
user the kimi cookie was so precious
user he looked so happy to receive it, i just know that admin is well-loved at mercedes
alexalbon When is it my turn??
georgerussell63 Never
user sassy man apocalypse starts with george russell
youruser 🔒 i taught you well
mercedesamgf1 Showing up to a "cut that out" contest and my opponent is George Russell
liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli, f1, and 3,585,869 others
view 465,965 comments ...
user crying admin saying "cut that!" twice and it still making into the final edit KILLED ME
user they’re so done it’s iconic
user george was having the time of his LIFE
user "george you can't say that" vs "watch me!"
user admin works hard but george works harder
user can't believe toto let them post this
user you know george was so smug making admin laugh
user he kept smirking every time he got them to laugh
user the way admin had to leave so they could finish the video is insane work
゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
“Excellent job, George,” the photographer praised as the flashes went off. The shoot for their summer merch line had been going on for a few hours and he was losing steam. Shoot days weren’t his favourite part of his job, but it was necessary, in a strange way. Besides, the summer line was fun, he enjoyed the designs, and hoped fans would too. But, that meant that he had to stand in an inflatable pool, with a silly flamingo float or around his waist, laughing at something behind the camera. Kimi would join soon, once his other media duties were finished. It felt like the end of a marathon.
“Perfect, can you add the sunglasses?” The photographer, who he had nothing against really, asked. George nodded, taking the glasses from an assistant. How long had he been here? Too long, he reckoned.
“Just give us a big smile!” George didn’t think he could. Not when he was so tired and the day was almost over. George tried, he really did, but it just wasn’t what the team was looking for. Which wasn’t anyone’s fault, and he was glad that they didn’t hold it against him.
“I’m sorry that this shoot is running long,” the photographer apologized. “We can try again tomorrow, if you’d like.”
“No, it’s alright. We’re on a deadline, and I won’t drop out. Let’s do this.”
You chose the perfect time to walk into the studio. You were huddled with other members of the social team, people you’d taken under your wing and helped succeed at Mercedes in various ways, like magic. The team rookies were drawn to you, and George didn’t blame them. How could he?
He called for you, you turned up, met his eyes, and smiled. The photographer beamed behind the camera as you trekked over towards George. “Impromptu beach day and you didn’t invite me?” You asked, gesturing to his attire.
“Blame the postal service,” George fired back. Your smile grew.
“I’ll file a formal complaint,” you assured him.
“This is good timing, actually!” The photographer, George was sure her name was Anya, gestured for you to come closer. “Would you stand in a few shots with George for me?” Your eyes widened.
“Me?”
“Why not? If you don’t like them, we can cut you out!” Your brows furrowed.
“I have content—” you went to make the excuse, but your gaggle of rookies had vanished, almost too quickly.
“It won’t take long,” Anya promised. “Only a few minutes.” You looked to George, who nodded.
“What the hell, why not?” You reached for the summer shirt and rushed behind curtains to change. Your team uniform didn’t allow for much summer imagination, but you still slipped into the kid pool with bare feet and let Anya slip a floater over your head.
“We look coordinated,” George observed.
“I look ridiculous,” you whispered as you both flashed a smile at the camera.
“You look fine,” George assured you. You shot a glance up at him, letting yourself admire him for a moment. Just a look. The most you would allow yourself.
“Thanks,” you breathed as George turned to face you. He pulled his sunglasses off his face and slid them over your eyes. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you heard the camera going off. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when he was looking at you like you mattered to him.
“You make shoots like these better,” George admitted. You felt your face warm under his intense stare. Something you hadn’t done since you were a kid. He brought that out of you, feelings you expected to leave behind when you turned nineteen. Here you were, seven years later, still feeling them.
“You make filming the ultra rich better,” you parroted back. George found himself laughing, the loud and boisterous one you swore felt like a sugar rush. He stepped back, holding his hand to his chest as he let the laughs escape him. You couldn’t help but start laughing.
“That’s not funny!” You hissed through laughter.
“I’m your favourite rich person, that’s a tall order!”
“You have the tall part down. I don’t know about favourite.” George snorted.
“Yeah, right. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” You both turned to Anya, who looked demented with her wide eyes and gleeful smile.
“One last photo and then you’re set, George,” Anya assured him. “Can you move-” she adjusted you to be in front of him.
“Okay, perfect, just lean forward and give a big smile!” George leaned down, his arms snaking around you. You froze, shoulders tense. He noticed. He always noticed.
“You alright?”
“You just … scared me.”
“It’s just me,” he assured you. That was the bloody problem. Everything George had started to make everything make a lot more sense. He’d become a proper thorn in your side now, one you didn’t want to remove.
You didn’t stick around to see the photos.
youruser 🔒 taking days off (ft georgie)
liked by georgerussell63, lando, alexalbon, kimi.antonelli, and 18 others
view 29 comments ...
kimi.antonelli He forced you to take him again????
georgerussell63 Hey! I was invited! Of their own free will!
youruser he does make a good vacation buddy (unfortunately)
kimi.antonelli very inch resting
georgerussell63 Mate, what?
kimi.antonelli Nothing, enjoy your vacation mate!
maxverstappen1 Very nice cat
youruser she was the sweetest, you'd love her, max
maxverstappen1 And yet you take George?
georgerussell63 Not my fault I'm more desirable
lando who's that handsome lad in the second photo and is he single?
youruser pls take him he keeps asking if we can go karting (it's against the rules)
georgerussell63 Out of all the photos you took of me, you choose that one?
youruser i have an eye for these things
georgerussell Right, sure thing
youruser ... i can post some nicer ones of you if you want
alexalbon eyes emoji dms at once
INSTAGRAM DMs — alexalbon
alexalbon: You're being so obvious
you: wdym???
alexalbon: You have the biggest crush on him and you don't know how to act around him anymore!
you: dehywgrbvndskoc
alexalbon: 🧍🏼
you: sorry threw my phone so george wouldn't see
you: you're fucking psychic or something mate i was gonna scream at you about it
alexalbon: how long?
you: ... since he got tea for me
alexalbon: aT THE START OF THE SEASON?!
you: yeah lmao how pathetic am i?
alexalbon: i'm surprised you haven't exploded yet
you: idk man he's being a douche on purpose
alexalbon: or ... hear me out ... he likes you back
you: now why would you say that to me
alexalbon: think about it!! he gave you tea, people know when you film content bc he's happier, and he goes out of his way to spend every second he can with you.
alexalbon: girl if you deny me i'm telling george bc we both know it's true, tell me ur not that dumb
you: oKAY DAMN
you: i've had a suspicion since the summer shoot we did a few weeks ago
alexalbon: those photos?? oh, he is so in love it's sickening
you: nbhertgbfv okokok
alexalbon: tell him tomorrow night or i'm flying out there and hosting an intervention
you: 👍
゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
"Do you ever wonder if shells have feelings?" George asked, under the sunset. You both had walked down to the beach from the apartment you were staying in for the week. Two bedrooms, separated by thin walls. You couldn't sleep, replaying your conversation with Alex on repeat in your brain. Tell him tonight. It was the perfect place to do it. Romance novel level. The sunset, the gentle lull of the waves, him at his most relaxed. Why couldn't you talk?
I like you, the words seemed so easy to say. But every time you opened your mouth, they caught. You choked, and backed down. That intervention didn't sound do bad right now.
"What?" You asked.
"Do shells have feelings?" George repeated the question.
"Are you being serious?" You asked because you didn't have a real answer.
"No, not really. I just wanted to start a conversation," George admitted. You chuckled to yourself, adjusting your hands in your lap. "You alright? You've been off today." So he noticed. Shit.
"Off?"
"Zoning out and stuff, you only do that when you're thinking about something."
"I didn't think you'd notice," you admitted. George's brows furrowed.
"I notice everything about you." He wasn't making this easy. The opposite, actually. The way he was looking at you, like knowing you was a privilege, it was tugging at your heartstrings. This dance was getting tiring. Six months of pretending that your heart didn't flip whenever he looked at you. Tired of pretending that he wasn't the first person you looked for. Tired of pretending that George Russell wasn't the most important person in the world.
"Don't do that," you protested.
"Do what?"
"Say stuff like that." George tilted his head.
"How'd you mean?"
"'I notice everything about you' and 'it's just me'."
"I'm quite proud of those, actually." You groaned into your hands. "Am I overstepping? Because if my flirting makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop." You looked up from between your fingers, heat filling your cheeks.
"What?"
"I've been flirting with you for the past six months. Longer than that, actually. For the past ten years." You blinked as he reached out to lower your hands." George offered you a smile. "You okay?" He asked. How could you be okay when your world had been swept out from under you.
"More than okay," you breathed. George let himself smile. "I thought I was overthinking again and projecting my feeling onto the best friendship I've ever had." You ducked your head, tearing yourself away from his eyes.
"I thought I was ruining everything."
"Darling, you couldn't ruin anything if you tried."
youruser 🔒 it's just him <3
liked by georgerussell63, lando, alexalbon, kimi.antonelli, mercedesamgf1, and 28 others
oh for sureee, she’s got countless of viral moments it seems neverending. fans still live for it tho!!!
more about driver!yn
the podium slip
Rain soaked podium. Champagne everywhere. YN took one step in her race boots and slipped, did a perfect spin, and took George down with her.
He fell. Oscar slipped on them. Yuki watched it all happen with a horrified face from below the podium. They all ended up on the floor. She raised a thumbs up from the ground and said:
“I stuck the landing.”
“WHY DID SHE TAKE GEORGE DOWN WITH HER”
the team radio breakdown
She was in P2. Two laps to go. The podium was hers. And then—snap. A mechanical failure. Complete power loss, everything stopped.
She rolled to a stop in sector three, heart thundering, fists clenched so tight it shook. The radio crackled. And then—anger.
“I swear, I will actually FIGHT this car. Someone hold me back.”
Luca’s silence was deafening.
Later, she laughed about it. Said she’d cool off. But fans? They turned it into a war cry.
“luca’s js used to everything she’s doing”
post race cravings
Post-race interview. She looked dead behind her eyes. Grease smudged her jaw. Her ponytail was falling apart. The race had been hell. No points, no pace. And the reporter asked what her plans were.
She sighed, blinked slowly, and went: “…nuggets. McDonald’s. I’d sell my souls for a 20 piece right now.”
And the best part? McDonald’s replied. By the next race, she had a personalized nugget box. With her number on it.
“she ate the nuggets during fp1. realest driver out there”
the lewis interview
Post race, she walked into frame next to Lewis. Exhausted, but radiating chaos. He leaned on her shoulder. She leaned back.
“We’re tired,” he said to the mic.
“We’re delusional,” she added. They both bursted into laughter.
They started high-fiving out of nowhere mid-interview. Talking over each other. Giggling at nothing.
The interviewer gave up halfway through.
“these two have NO media training and we LOVE that”
grid kid softness
He looked scared. Eight years old, holding the umbrella next to her on the grid, hands shaking.
She knelt down.
“Hey,” she said gently, handing him her cap. “You look cool. Wanna wear this?” He nodded shyly.
She fist-bumped him. “You’re braver than half the grid.”
He beamed back at her. And she stood for the anthem, capless, with one hand protectively behind his back.
“he said she makes him feel ‘safe.’ i’m actually sobbing’
the seb moment
During a race weekend, Sebastian Vettel made a surprise paddock appearance. YN spotted him from across the media pen and literally gasped. Covered her mouth. Full body turn. Then ran.
They hugged, she squealed. He called her "the fiercest thing on four wheels." She teared up.
Photos of her beaming at Seb like he was her dad? Broke the internet. They love them both.
“she looked like a kid meeting her hero”
the public nap situation
It was between sessions. Hot day. Busiest paddock of the season.
Someone walked by a tire stack and found YN asleep behind it. Fully out. Arm as a pillow. Hoodie pulled over her eyes, how did she get there?
She woke up to the sound of a mechanic accidentally dropping a wrench and sat up like a soldier in a war movie.
summary the whole paddock is aware george has been dating someone for the last years but no one knows who she is
literature student x george russell. inspired by bewitched - laufey
series masterlist ★ masterlist
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆☕︎⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
yourusername lost in a book, please do not disturb
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friend great collection
yourusername well thank u, i worked hard for it
friend girl we were supposed to meet in the library thirty minutes ago !!
yourusername oops lost track of time! omw
user love your page! you motivate me to study
yourusername 🫶🫶
friend you are everything i aspire to be
yourusername 🥺🥺
privgeorge gorgeous<3
yourusername 🤍
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆☕︎⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
yourusername last stretch
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friend how are you this beautiful while this stressed omg marry me?
yourusername a thousand times yes! say when and where and i'll be there🫶
friend so u ditched me to hang out with the secret boyfriend!!! i see how it is
yourusername i'm sorryy😩😩 i don't see him often and i missed him
friend can't believe it's been years and we haven't met him! he better come to the graduation
friend ^^ this! why so much mystery?? is he famous or something??
yourusername or something...🤭 he will be there don't worry
privgeorge you've got this my love❤️ love you
yourusername love you more❤️
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆☕︎⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
georgerussell63 you have bewitched me, body and soul❤️
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user I CANT BELIEVE WE ARE FINALLY GETTING A SOFT LAUNCH it's been years 😭😭
user historic events are happening as we speak
user i thought this day would never come🥺
user she is so unbelievably beautiful!!
user you can't see her face clearly at all?
user idc i feel it in my heart ♥︎liked by author
user george liked🥺🥺
user the caption !! welcome back mr darcy
user don't be shy tag her
user she clearly wants to remain private
user i know🙄 i was joking
user what's the lore? why is everyone freaking out?
user bc we don't know who she is, not even her name, and he has never posted her before today
user girl the lore is crazy george has been dating her for YEARS but we only know she exists because he mentions her from time to time
user what they said! i want to add it's been two years and ten months since george said he wasn't single anymore...
user that's insane how did they manage to keep it private for ALMOST THREE YEARS???
user and nothing ever leaked either!! i love that for them, clearly they have great trustworthy people around them
user the way you can tell they are really in love
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆☕︎⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
yourusername i'm not a religious person, but sometimes i do think god made you for me
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friend oh my heart...brb going to re-read normal people
friend no girll come on we have to study, it's our last test
yourusername can't believe we have one more test and then we are free
friend i can already taste it...
friend my bag will be so light when i don't have to carry a million books with me everywhere i go anymore
yourusername lets be for real, we are still gonna carry a million books with us
friend you are probably right😂
user your nails>>
privgeorge one last test my love! you will do amazing, you are the smartest person i know❤️
yourusername and you know a lot of smart people so this means more coming from u<3
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆☕︎⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
📍london
russellistaforever uhm i think i just saw george walking hand in hand with a woman!!!!! do we think it's her??
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user she has to be !!
user why are you posting this?? they probably didn't want to be photographed, considering they've always been private
russellistaforever i would have agreed before and i would have never shared it otherwise, but they didn't seem to mind. george saw me taking a picture and winked at me
user can't believe we are the closest we've ever been to discovering who she is🤭
user yes!! i think it's sweet they finally feel comfortable going public with their relationship
user sorry i'm new here. i understand they've been dating for almost three years now, why didn't they go public before?
user george said in an interview once that she wanted to finish university before dealing with that kind of chaos
user oh thank you! that's so valid tbh
user that must mean she is graduating finally! hopefully we'll get pictures 🤞
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆☕︎⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
♥︎liked by alex_albon and others
yourusername 3 years since our first date so here's a poem i wrote about it. i love you🌹
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friend this is great ?? i am in love with your brain
friend SO ROMANTIC🥺 maybe he's not so bad after all and i can forgive him for remaining anonymous....
yourusername lol he's amazing!! i promise it was all me. if it were up to him, we would have been public since day 1
user call me crazy but isn't that—
user keep going i think you might be onto something
user i mean, her hair looks just like in that fan's picture,,,
user alex liked too....
user why is this comment section filled with formula one fans??😂 she's just a random student sharing her poetry
user don't mind them, they are clowning
user you are gonna feel so dumb about this comment when we are right
friend YN ARE U INSANE??? this is so good, you are so talented!!
user i loved this please share more of your writing!
georgerussell63 forever my favorite memory too❤️
user Oh My God ... we were RIGHT????
user i don't know how to feel or act🫠 we have never been right before,,,
user this is so devastatingly cute i can't
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆☕︎⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
georgerussell63 so unbelievably proud of you and all that you've achieved❤️
tagged yourusername
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user HE TAGGED HER THIS IS NOT A DRILL
alex_albon congratulations yn 👏👏
yourusername thank you alex! and thank lily for the flowers too
user my galex heart<3
user we got a hard launch three years later never give up on your dreams😩✊
user beauty and brains?? no wonder george is so in love ♥︎liked by author
user i stalked her page and she's been posting him discreetly for years🥺 i love them your honor
user power couple<3
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆☕︎⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
georgerussell63 posted a story
💿still into you - paramore
caption my graduate🫶
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆☕︎⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
💿marry you - bruno mars
georgerussell63 keep me in your heart🤍
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user oh my goddddd they are engaged??????
lando congrats👏 love u two!!
user the song choice🥺🥺 he's the og loverboy
friend nooo she was supposed to be my wife i proposed first💔 guess i can't compete with a f1 driver
yourusername noo babe i swear he doesn't mean anything, it's u and me<3
georgerussell63 😐
georgerussell63 under my own post too
yourusername 😂😂
lewishamilton congratulations guys!
yourusername forever and ever🤍
georgerussell63 🤍
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆☕︎⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
yourusername it was always going to be a yes💍
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lilymhe this makes me so happy!! love you both🫶
user the picture of george reading with her🥺 goals
friend congratulations my friend, u deserve all the happiness in the world<3
friend so happy for you babe💖
georgerussell63 love you, can't wait to be your husband and brag about my smart poet & literary researcher girlfriend❤️
yourusername love you too, i will be bragging that my husband has the best win celebration in motorsports❤️
