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norrussell · 6 months

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A Helping Hand | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: feeling frustrated, you go to George for some aid where he offers to help you blow off some steam

Warnings: smut

A/N: goodness, this is the most I've spent on proofreading, rewriting and editing than on any of my other fics, probably because I babied this idea for a long time 💀 and probably because I was sick for the past few days that I couldn't do anything else except thinking about George taking care of me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it 🥰

You were frustrated. The irritation was welling up inside you, and there was no telling why. And nothing going your way wasn’t helping either. But what it is that you always do whenever you feel like this?

You go to George.

George and you were best friends for as long as you could remember. He played enormous role in your life, in a way that you would often refer to him as an older brother. No one else even came close to being as important to you as he was. He was always there to listen when you needed to rant about something, and the two of you were just as comfortable sitting in silence as you were engaging in deep conversations. Today was no different.

You walked over to George's apartment, knowing that he wouldn't mind your unannounced visit. You knocked on the door and waited a few moments before he answered, your mind racing with all the things you wanted to vent about. The door opened, revealing George’s smiling face.

“Hey there, buddy,” he said, pulling you into a hug. “What’s got you so worked up?” he questioned upon seeing your slumped shoulders and frowning face.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I just know I’m feeling a lot and it’s not good.” you walked further into his apartment, running a hand through your hair.

George followed behind you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, "I don't even know what's bothering me. I'm just feeling so damn… restless." and leaned against his kitchen bar.

George nodded his head, eyes fixed on your face. He knew that look and the manner in which you spoke. George had experienced this before with you. You would continue to speak until the words dried up, and he knew it was in his best interest to listen attentively. And he wanted to do just that. To be a friend and not interrupt for once your thoughts were drifting by. He loved the feeling of neediness you gave him.

So you started to spill your troubles. From everything that happened to you since you woke up to this very moment in the afternoon. He listened patiently, nodding and frowning in all the right places. You continued to talk, your words flowing out in a jumbled mess as you tried to make sense of your emotions. George listened intently, offering words of encouragement when needed. As you spoke, he moved closer to you.

It wasn’t a subtle move, you very much noticed him getting up and walking up to you, caging you in between his arms he rested on the counter behind you. He bowed his head so that his eyes were in level with yours and leaned forward, the words dying on your lips as he did so. Your faces were now only inches away, the air around you charged.

“When was the last time you got laid?” he asked.

You were taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. “W-What?”

He took a step back, giving you space to breathe. “You, my friend, are sexually frustrated.”

You hadn't been with anyone in a while, he was right, like he always was, but “And how do you know that?” there was annoyance in your voice as you crossed your arms.

He sat down in one of his kitchen chairs, leaning on the table behind and legs spread lightly. “How long have we been friends for?”

“Almost twenty years. Why?” you frowned, not really seeing the point of this conversation.

He gave a slight nod in agreement. “And in that long period of time you think I wouldn’t have learned your,” his gaze traveled up your body until it finally settled on your eyes, “body language?” his tongue clicked.

You swallowed hard, feeling the atmosphere between you two shift. There was definitely an undercurrent of something more, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to go there just yet.

“This-That has nothing to do with this.” you choked out.

“So you’re saying,” he moved his head from side to side. “If I offered you a solution you would say no?” his eyes found yours again and his gaze was piercing.

You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine as George's eyes locked with yours. You had expected a hug or some words of comfort, not a proposition. You knew what he was insinuating, and part of you was tempted to take him up on his offer. But the other part of you was hesitant, unsure if you were ready to cross that line with him.

You had to admit, the idea was tempting. George was an attractive man, and you had always felt a certain level of chemistry between the two of you. But did you want to risk your friendship for a moment of physical release?

“I…”

Upon noticing your hesitation, George decided for you. “Come here.” he patted his thigh.

Bolts of electricity ran through your body at his words. There was no denying that the idea of him taking care of you in that way was incredibly arousing. And before you made up your mind, your legs carried you over to him.

He took your arm, leading you in front of him. “Turn aroud. Sit down.” he instructed softly.

“On y-”

“Yes, y/n, on my lap.”

If he wanted to, he could pull you by the arms and just place you there, but he waited for you to slowly sit down yourself, resting your hands on his knees, your back to him.

“Good girl. Now,” he leaned forward, hugging your waist. “If in any moment you feel uncomfortable or just want to stop for whatever reason, I want you to tell me. Alright?”

“Okay.” you nodded, his intense stare more than you could handle.

You were familiar with being this close to George; you'd even slept in the same bed side-by-side without any issue. You had held each other before, but his touch was always comforting and platonic. This time however, something more hung in the air - an energy that made your heart race with anticipation.

“Good.” he kissed your tense shoulder.

George's hands caressed your body with practiced ease, gently running down your sides, across your abdomen, up and down your jean clothed thighs in order to help you relax. Gradually, you leaned into him, your breaths deeper. His lips smoothed over your neck and you let out an unwilling moan.

“You’re doing good.” he reassured and you nodded, affirming that you heard him.

His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, diving under to caress your stomach. They were warm, but your back arched on a sudden skin on skin contact. He stopped for a moment until you relaxed again. Moving upwards, his fingers grazed the lace of your bra before he glided his palms to cup them.

You gasped and bit your lip, surprised by the new sensation of his hands so close to your growing chest, and leaned back on him even more, your nipples hardening. You loved the way George touched you, the way he made you feel. His hands ran up and down between you and your bra, squeezing your globes. His lips found your ear, nibbling on its lobe before he spoke.

“You have a beautiful body.” he whispered huskily.

A shudder ran up your spine at the pure lust in his voice. His right hand slipped under the cup of your bra, freeing your breast. You didn’t protest, you felt good. Instead, you arched your back more, pressing your chest more against his hand. His thumb and forefinger found your nipple and pinched and pulled on it, making you moan.

George lowered his head and licked your neck, kissing it softly and nipping it occasionally. His left hand joined in the fun and massaged your other breast, pinching its nipple just as his right hand was doing. You clamped your eyes shut, enjoying the sensation of his touch.

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

You leaned back once again, despite your best efforts. Now his right hand made its descend down your stomach, making you wriggle in his lap, and reached the button of your jeans. Popping it open, that’s when you opened your eyes as well.

“George,” you gulped and put your hand over his. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely,” he pulled you closer, pressing his lips reassuringly to your neck. “Are you not?”

“I’m just worried what it means to us, our friendship. I don’t want to ruin it.” you finally voiced your concerns.

“You won’t ruin it, babygirl.” he smoothed over your hair. “Friends help each other out, don’t they? You can look at it like that.”

“Yes, but…” We shouldn’t be doing this… you thought to yourself.

“We can stop if you-”

“No!” you were maybe a bit too quick to cut him off. “Let’s continue. I… I like it.” you could feel the heat rush into your cheeks.

He kissed your neck, working his way up to your ear. “I’m glad. Cause so do I.” his hand went back to what it was doing.

He pulled down your zipper, but didn’t push your pants down, exposing just your panties. His hand went back to your breasts, kneading them, feeling their weight. Every now and again his hand would brush past your nipple, sending tingles down your body.

You’re breathing was growing heavier, his hands were good at what they were doing and you didn’t want it to stop. He could feel you squirming in his lap, his smirk evident even though your head was turned.

“Someone’s excited.” he teased.

“S-Shut up.” you bit your lip, embarrassed.

His fingers dipped under the elastic line of your panties, and you were glad that you decided to shave that morning. His fingers ran over your mound slowly, feeling every curve, every spot. He circled around your clit, teasing you, before he moved further down, dipping one finger in a bit before pulling it back out.

You moaned and he chuckled. “You like that?” you nodded, trying to contain your moans. “You want me to continue?” you nodded again, too aroused to speak.

His fingers dipped deeper inside your folds, feeling the warm, wet sensation. When his fingers reached the bottom, he started to rub your entrance, pressing just a bit, sending pleasurable sparks through your body.

“Mhm,” he moaned into your ear, “my babygirl likes that.”

“Yes.” you shook your head, agreeing.

“Tell me.” he demanded.

“Yes, I like it. I want it.”

His finger pushed a bit further inside, and you bit your lower lip, unable to keep quiet. “You want what?” he asked in a low voice.

“I want it.” you said in a higher pitched voice, trying to sound like a grown woman. “I want your fingers inside of me.” you blushed.

“You want more?”

“Yes. Please.” you ground onto his finger, your hips following his thumb’s rhythm.

He pulled his hand out of your pants and you audibly expressed your dismay at the lack of contact. He responded by placing his hands on your hips and forcing you up off the chair. Tugging your jeans down, you stepped out of them and he was quick to pull you onto his lap once again. With a nudge from his knee, your thighs opened into a desirable position. His arm was securely locked around your waist, making sure that you wouldn't move away or slip off his lap.

“Now,” he played with your panties, pushing them aside. “You said you wanted more?”

“Yes, George. Please, George.” you whined.

“Only cause you said please.” he smirked and you could feel his teeth graze your skin.

His finger entered you again, slowly, stretching you, moving only an inch or so before pulling out again. When he felt that you were ready for more, he rhythmically started to finger you, gauging your reaction. His finger pushed a bit further in, making you squirm. He pulled it back out, a bit of your juices clinging to it before he thrust it back in. You gasped, feeling the full sensation of his finger inside of you. He added another finger, and you moaned, squirming on his lap, feeling so full. Your breathing had turned into moaning, echoing through the empty apartment in which you were in.

"Shh, babygirl, it's alright. You're doing good.” George’s free hand tangled in your hair, pulling it back, your exposed neck bared to him. He nibbled on it, biting and sucking, loving your reactions.

“Just, please, more.” you begged him.

“I don't think you're ready for that yet.”

His fingers became more insistent inside you, pushing deeper and deeper. He rubbed your g-spot, making your moans turn into pants.

“No, no, no, no.” you panted. “Please, just a bit more.”

“Would my babygirl like to come already?”

“Yes, please, I’m so close.” you said, almost crying, needing to come.

“Let me hear you say it.”

“George, please. I want it. I need it. Please.” you begged.

“God, I didn’t think hearing you beg would be such a turn on.” he confessed, his voice a deep rumble.

“Please, I need it. I need to come. I love it when you touch me like that. Please!” you were almost screaming by the end.

He went back on rubbing you, his fingers moving faster and faster. Slipping his thumb a few times inside you while his fingers were busy doing you, the other hand clamped on your hip for support. His thumb pushed in deeper, your juices coated it and he rubbed your g-spot with it, making you squeal.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes.” you said over and over again, panting.

“Come for me.” he hissed and his other hand wrapped around your throat, holding you gently.

You didn’t even need his encouragement, your whole body was aching for release. His fingers moved faster, rubbing your g-spot, his thumb pressing hard against it. You were soaked, his fingers gliding inside you. You moaned, louder than before, mumbling incoherently.

Your hips bucked on his lap and he held you in place, his fingers continuing their assault on your body. You were his toy, his play thing, and you enjoyed it more than you should have. You didn’t care anymore, you were drowning in pleasure, letting it consume you.

Lights burst behind your eyelids when you came, biting hard into your lip, muffling your screams. Your whole body relaxed from the pleasure, your arms giving out and you would have fallen if he had not held you. You leaned against him, recovering from your orgasm. Your head was laid on his chest and all you could hear was his breathing, slowing down.

When the orgasmic waves subsided, you became aware of your surroundings again and blushed.

“Th-thank you.” you stammered, chest still rising and falling visibly.

“You’re welcome.” he kissed your temple. “Feeling better now?”

“Yes.” you nodded.

“Glad I could help.” he said, his fingers playing with your hair, combing them through.

“You did, but George… This can’t happen again.” you finished, standing up to find your jeans. It was just an excuse to put some physical distance between you for you don’t think you could get the last part over your lips if you were still sitting on his lap.

“Oh,” was all he said. You couldn’t determine was he disappointed or the realization hit him.

“We are friends and I want it to stay that way. You are too important for me to lose over... such thing.” you zipped up your pants.

“I understand.” he said, his voice not betraying his true feelings.

You had expected it to be hard to say it, but it didn’t feel like a lie at all, it felt like the truth. It felt like the right thing to do.

“Thank you.”

He meekly nodded. “Do you want to stay over? We can watch tv or something…” he trailed off.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay.” he smiled and you smiled back.

You spent the rest of the evening wrapped in blankets on his couch, laughing as you watched bad television shows and poking fun at the characters and plots. Between you two was no uneasiness; you were laughing together like earlier events hadn't happened. And that moment looked like a promise that, no matter what, nothing will ever change between you two.

Or so you thought...

Next part

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thepersonnamedsam · 5 months

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she got this - op81

pairing: oscar piastri x academic!girlfriend

summary: oscar visits his girlfriends bachelor thesis defending

word count: 1.3k

face claim: phoebe bridgers

warnings: a swear word, some angst - mentions of a panic attack

note: this is for my baby @lissyontour, you got this, pls wish her good luck for today <3

oh and it’s my first oscar fic, hihi, enjoy it

and there is some of the bachelor thesis… i had to include some of it, thanks to chat gpt

masterlist / taglist

Fuck, was she nervous. Her head was spinning and her legs were jelly - no, scratch that - her legs were liquid.

Her eyes were trying to focus on something, just something that would help her back to reality. She knew she was somewhere else right now, somewhere where she shouldn’t be.

Why wasn’t Oscar with her? Why was she alone? This was not how she planned it!

Her heart was beating, she felt it nearly pop out of her chest. It almost hurt. Oscar should’ve been here with her, but a last minute meeting with Zak just threw her plans overboard.

Her breath quickend and her hands searched for the only safe thing she could think of, her phone. Her fingers quickly glided over the screen and Oscars answer made her hold her breath for a second.

Standing in front of the auditorium, the heavy red doors made her uneasy. It’s gonna be time soon.

Oscar had to hold himself back not to text her that he was actually sitting in the front row and waiting for her to enter the room. He knew it was cruel. But he just had to do it.

He was so much more nervous than her. He watched her write that bachelor thesis for over six months now. At every race she was sitting in his drivers room with at least ten books and her laptop. Only just for the last five laps she came out of the room to watch him race.

He appreciated her coming, she could’ve just stayed at home and studied, but she always came with. Multitasking her way through her studies. And he was so proud of her. There was no way he would miss her final step of the way.

And he knew his cruelty was all worth it, as she stepped into the room and her eyes spotted his. Her whole face lit up and he could almost spot some tears of relief.

„What are you doing here?“, she mouthed. A small smile on her lips. „Supporting you“, he mouthed back, matching her smile.

„Welcome Ms y/l/n!“, her professor welcomed her. „I am exited to hear you defend your bachelor thesis about; How Greek Mythology influenced modern literature.“

She smiled at her favourite teacher and took out her thesis. She closed her eyes for a second, breathed in and out again. She was ready. Oscar knew she studied English literature and oh did that make her sexy.

But he had no idea of Greek Mythology or modern literature by any means. Yes, he read her thesis at least twice, but did his brain understand anything she meant? It did not. Being the smart one was all her job.

„Welcome Professor McAllister, dear colleagues, guests and friends. I hereby welcome you dearly to my defending of my bachelor thesis: How Greek Mythology influenced modern literature.“

Oscar listened intently and always smiled when she looked at him for reassurance. His heart was swelling with proudness. He soon had a girlfriend with a bachelor degree.

„In the vast tapestry of literary evolution, Greek mythology stands as an enduring thread, weaving its timeless narratives into the very fabric of modern literature. As contemporary authors navigate the labyrinth of inspiration, they find themselves entwined with the rich tapestry of gods, heroes, and mythical creatures that originated in ancient Greece.

The resurgence of interest in Greek mythology can be traced to its profound impact on archetypal storytelling. From the lofty heights of Mount Olympus to the depths of the Underworld, these tales resonate with universal themes that transcend temporal and cultural boundaries. Authors draw from the exploits of Zeus, the sagas of heroes like Achilles, and the tragedies of figures like Oedipus to explore complex facets of human nature. The gods' capriciousness mirrors the unpredictable forces that shape our destinies, while the struggles of mortals against divine intervention echo the perennial human quest for agency in the face of cosmic uncertainty.

Prominent literary figures, from James Joyce to J.K. Rowling, have paid homage to Greek mythology, infusing their works with echoes of ancient narratives. The hero's journey, a concept rooted in the mythic structure of heroes like Perseus and Hercules, serves as a narrative template for protagonists in contemporary novels. These echoes are not mere nostalgic nods; they represent a perennial dialogue between past and present, a dialogue in which timeless themes find new expression.

Moreover, the enduring allure of Greek mythology lies in its malleability. Authors wield the myths as allegorical tools to explore issues ranging from power dynamics and hubris to the nuances of morality. The Hydra of Lerna becomes a metaphor for societal challenges that sprout anew when seemingly eradicated, and the labyrinthine trials of Theseus mirror the complexities of modern ethical dilemmas.

In essence, the enduring influence of Greek mythology on modern literature is a testament to the universality of its themes and the perennial resonance of its characters. As authors continue to delve into the wellspring of ancient tales, they discover not relics of a bygone era, but rather a living reservoir of inspiration that fuels the imagination of generations, perpetuating the eternal dance between the ancient and the contemporary.“

Her voice angelic as it could be, drew in people who never even heard of the topic. You didn’t have to be interested in Greek Mythology to listen to her thesis, because she delivered her speech that even Oscar understood and left him wanting to know more about it.

My god was he proud. He was in awe, his beautiful girlfriend standing up there, speaking about her passion and delivering it in a way he never thought she could.

Even the look on Professor McAllister made him proud. She looked at his girlfriend with a proud smile, nodding along with her and reassuring her. She was gonna ace this.

Oscar was snapped out of it when the whole auditorium clapped. She was standing with the biggest smile on that stage. Oscar just had to get a picture of her. His new wallpaper.

„Thank you, Ms y/l/n. This was magnificent! We‘ll just discuss real quick and we‘ll be back with your grade. You can be proud of yourself, Ms y/l/n“, Professor McAllister told the young woman on stage.

And as soon as they left the room, she squealed and ran to Oscar. He opened his arms and let the girl spring into his embrace. „Hi“, he whispered. „Hi“, she whispered back. „I thought you weren’t coming?“

He laughed, a real deep belly laugh. „I had to surprise you!“ She hit his shoulder and said: „I hate you, but I’m glad you came.“

„You did so well, my love. I am so proud of you! We have to celebrate afterwards, anything you want.“

The time together was cut short, when the door opened again and the four professors walked in again. „Ms y/l/n, please, have a seat“, her professor said and pointed to the chair sat in front of the four.

She nervously walked over to them and smiled at them. „No need to be nervous, you did well, you can be proud of yourself.“

They talked stuff Oscar didn’t understand. But when he saw a big smile form on her face, he knew she received the best grade she could’ve. Proud, that’s the only word that came to Oscar’s mind.

„I love the boys“, she told Oscar. He smiled up at her and said: „I know you do, but only I can celebrate with you today.“ She giggled and would’ve almost kicked her feet, if it weren’t for the others in the room.

Professor McAllister handed y/n her diploma and told her they’d see each other at official ceremony. After that, Oscar and his girlfriend almost sprinted out of the auditorium.

oscarpiastri

liked by yninsta, landonorris and 82‘729 others

oscarpiastri how did we get from that to this?

view all 22‘219 comments

yninsta the first one is NOT me, idk where you got this from

user1 weren’t we all at that point during our studies?

user2 yes, yes we were

yninsta glad i wasn’t alone…

oscarpiastri so it was you

yninsta oop-

landonorris congrats, y/n! when we gonna get a lecture about greek mythology from you?

yninsta any day you want

landonorris now?

oscarpiastri no, now she’s busy with me

landonorris ewww, my eyes are scarred, don’t ever come back to the mclaren garage

oscarpiastri i didn’t mean it that way

yninsta he did

landonorris you’re just kids

user3 we love an academic wag

user4 so proud of you, y/n!

mclaren congratulations, y/n, next podium is for you 🍾

yninsta thank you, admin

yninsta thank you, baby

oscarpiastri i am so proud of you, darling

loganseargant i cannot believe i have a friend with a bachelors degree…

yninsta better believe it, american boy

user4 do u even know what a bachelors degree is..?

user5 american slander, we love it

alex_albon we are all proud, y/n

user6 we really are

yninsta thank you all so much, i love you guys so much

georgerussel63 oh no, she’s getting sentimental, let’s stop here guys

°°°

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#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x female reader #lando norris #logan sargeant #alex albon #george russel #oscar piastri instagram au #yuki tsunoda

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thebearchives · 2 years

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bad liar | CL16

PAIRING: charles leclerc x reader

REQUESTED: [] yes [X] no

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

SYNOPSIS: keeping a relationship hidden from the grid was hard. harder when you and your boyfriend couldn’t stay away from each other and both sucked at telling lies. OR the four times your relationship with charles almost got exposed to the grid and the one time it did.

WARNINGS: fluff, both reader and charles are stupid!!, french and spanish but translation is provided

as always, don't be a ghost reader!

when you and charles put a label on your relationship, the last thing on either of your minds was telling others. objectively, the most important people in either of your lives already knew, so really, there wasn’t a need to tell anyone else.

your family had found out first, with charles walking into your kitchen, shirtless after a late night, while you were facetiming your mother. charles had told his own family not too long after, sending a picture of the two of you on a date.

having met, and subsequently, starting your relationship during the off-season, you hadn’t really thought about how the pair of you would act on the paddock. the media had been a big worry of yours, having seen what they had to say about other wags of the grid drivers. and while charles wanted nothing more to scream to the world that he was happily taken and loved you with his entire heart, he understood where you were coming from and was willing to keep your relationship on the low until you were ready to go public.

but if there was one thing both of your families could agree on, it was that you both were horrible liars. and if arthur made a bet with your brother about how long it would take for your relationship to be exposed to everyone, that’s a secret they’d keep to themselves.

— one

it was the first race of the season. both sides of the ferrari garage were lively and frantic, spending every last minute making sure both cars were suitable enough for the track and drivers alike.

you were in charles’ driver room, standing in between said driver’s legs, hands intertwined as he played with your fingers. the small room was quiet and serene, blocked from the real world just outside the closed door.

although he tried not to show it, charles was nervous. the first race of the season always made him anxious, even if he knew his car was fast.

“you’ll be fine, char.” you squeezed his hands gently, “you said it yourself. the car is good, it’s got the pace.”

you tugged on his hand to get him to look at you, “and most importantly, the car’s got you driving it. the best driver of them all.”

charles gave you a soft smile, “well, that’s a bit biased, don’t you think? i’m your boyfriend, you have to think i’m the best.”

“well, that’s a bit biased, don’t you think?” you playfully scoffed, “i remember thinking you were the best from the moment you joined the formula one scene, i don’t recall having a boyfriend then.”

charles let out a small laugh, tugging you into him. he wrapped his arms around you, head nuzzling into your stomach, “you’re the best motivational speaker, chérie. girlfriend or not, no bias, i promise.”

“i try my best.”

the two of you stood like that for the next few minutes, your hands coming up to play with charles’ hair while his thumbs caressed the sides of your hips. it was nice, healing, almost. just the two of you, alone in your own world. content.

until the door of charles’ room slammed open and carlos’s loud voice broke the two of you apart. you pushed yourself as far away from your boyfriend as you could, but it was useless. carlos had already seen the two of you cozying up to one another.

“what was that?” his eyes switched from charles’ figure to yours, then back to charles’ expecting an answer from the driver.

“ehm,” charles scratched the back of his neck, smoothing down his ruffled hair as he brought his hand back.

“well?” carlos was not letting it go, a knowing look on his face.

charles coughed, averting his eyes from his teammate’s, “i was, uh, i was cold?” he nodded, as if confirming his own lie, “yes, i was cold. super cold. is the ac on high in this room or what?”

he looked over at you, a pleading look on his face. you nodded frantically, “yup, super chilly. haha, chili. speaking of chili, what are you doing here, carlos?”

carlos nodded slowly, “right, cold,” he eyes the ac in the corner of the room. off.

before either carlos or charles could get another word out, charles’ media manager, mia rushed into the room, “god, carlos, i told you to bring him with you, not stay in his room and start chatting. we��re going to be late for the interview.”

you watched as the two drivers rushed out of the room, wiping your hand against your jeans. god, that was close.

on the other side of the paddock, carlos stared at his teammate as he waited for the interview to begin. cold, his ass. bahrain didn’t know the word cold. maybe carlos would have believed charles’ excuse if they were in canada, and if it was december.

“que tonto.” what a fool.

— two

the second time someone had caught you in an incriminating moment was actually on a date. in hindsight, it probably wasn’t smart to go out for a date when you were actively trying to keep your relationship secret, but charles had gotten a podium in the last race and it felt appropriate to celebrate with a fancy dinner.

charles had tried his hardest to find a place far enough away where he was sure he would run into none of his friends and fellow grid drivers, but when he caught sight of lando and george in the far corner of the restaurant you and he had walked into, he couldn’t help but ask for a booth instead of a table.

“don’t look, but i’m pretty sure that’s lando and george across the floor, on the other side of the fish tank.” charles’ eyes widened as you turned to look at the general area charles was speaking of.

“don’t look!” charles’ loud octave caused a few heads to turn to your table. you gasped, grabbing the menu and putting it up to hide your face. charles, albeit after nodding his head apologetically towards the neighbouring tables, also did the same. the two of you soon put your menus together and snickered like teenagers hiding from their parents, unbeknownst to the fact that both lando and george had seen charles’ embarrassed face and were now the topic of their conversation.

“why don’t you just move and come sit next to me?” you moved over and patted the space next to you, “if either of them look this way, they’ll for sure see you.”

and so he did, after dropping both his spoon and fork to the ground as he pushed himself out of his side of the booth. and while you should have worried that the loud clatter of the utensils hitting the floor was bringing more attention to the two of you, you found yourself giggling quietly at the sight of charles’ tomato-red face burning in embarrassment.

it was around a little more than halfway into your dinner date when lando and george decided to make their way to your booth. charles and yourself had been chattering quietly about your plans for the next few weeks and whether or not you would be joining him again for the next race weekend.

your dinner had come and gone, the two of you now nursing the small portion of cheesecake that sat in the middle of the table. you had just placed a spoonful of the sweet confection into your lovely boyfriend’s mouth when both lando and george slotted themselves into charles’ original spot. charles choked, sitting up from his spot to grab a glass of water.

you subtly put some distance between yourself and charles, also grabbing a glass of water to hide your worried face.

“hiya, charlie!” lando smiled wide at his friend.

charles coughed loudly, holding up a finger to indicate he needed a minute.

george looked at you instead, “hey, y/n!”

you were surprised he still remembered your name, having met some of the drivers, george included, in passing. “hello, george. lando,” you nodded to the mclaren driver as well.

“what a surprise it is, seeing you here,” lando smiled, “with our boy charles, at that.”

charles, who had only just managed to stop coughing, coughed again. he cleared his throat, his hand squeezing the hell out of his own thigh as he worried about how you two would get out of this situation, “ehm, hello, boys.”

george nodded, “well…?”

god, it was like carlos all over again.

“well?” charles decided to play aloof. if he pretended like nothing was out of the ordinary, surely they would as well, right?

“well, what are you guys doing out here?” lando took the reigns of the conversation into his own hands, “is this a date?”

this time, it was you who choked. as you waved off charles’ hand holding his own glass of water, opting for your own to avoid further exposing your relationship, both lando and george smiled to one another.

“a date? pfft, of course not,” charles spluttered, “just two friends hanging out.”

“on the same side of a booth?”

“mhm, yup.” charles nodded, “the uh, there was, uh…”

“there was a kid!” you grabbed charles’ hand under the table and squeezed it, using your other hand to point behind the two drivers who decided to crash your date, “yeah, uh, he kept tugging on charles’ hair so i uhm, i offered to let him sit next to me.”

not a bad lie, you mentally pat yourself on the back.

“and the spoon-feeding thing we just saw?”

“i dropped my utensils under the table earlier,” charles smiled, at least this wasn’t a lie. he pushed himself further down into his seat, leg extending under the table until it reached the discarded utensils both of you had forgotten to pick up, “and no waiter was walking by here so we decided to just share a spoon.”

the moment the words left charles’ mouth, a waiter passed by their table, shooting them a quick smile and nod of acknowledgment. talk about timing.

after a beat, george got up from his seat, pulling lando along with him, “well, that explains it. we’ll see on the track next week, charles.”

the pairs exchanged goodbyes before the two drivers left. it was clear to them that the two of you were clearly dating, but for your sake more than charles’, they were willing to pretend like they didn’t know. just to see how long this charade would go on for.

— three

the third time your relationship was exposed to a grid member, you weren’t even there to see it happen. in fact, you hadn’t even seen charles for the entirety of that day.

instead, charles was out shopping for clothes with his best friend, pierre. pierre, who was very attentive and couldn’t help but notice the purple mark on the side of his best friend’s neck.

“joli suçon,” nice hickey. pierre pressed his finger against the bruise. charles flinched at the sudden pain.

“tu as été très occupé, huh? méchant garçon.” you’ve been busy, huh? naughty boy. pierre smirked.

“tais-toi, pierre.” charles shoved his friend’s hand away from his neck, “c'est pas un suçon.” shut up…it’s not a hickey.

“oui, et je suis né hier.” pierre rolled his eyes, “admets-le, ce n'est que moi.” yeah, and i was born yesterday…admit it, it’s only me,

“il n'y a rien à admettre,” there’s nothing to admit. charles was adamant. if he faltered for even a second, he was sure that pierre would be able to get it out of him that he had a girlfriend.

“c'est vrai?” is that so? pierre’s eyes shined with mischief. it was clear charles wouldn’t tell him how he got the hickey, but how far was he willing to go?

at charles’ affirmative hum, pierre nodded, “alors qu'est-ce que c'est?” then what is it?

charles’ movements faltered for a second. fuck, he wasn’t expecting this question. why didn’t he expect this question? this is the first question he should’ve prepped for. but then again, he hadn’t even realized you left a mark in the first place.

“quoi?” what? charles stalled.

“qu'est-ce que c'est? ton suçon qui n'est pas un suçon?” what is it? your hickey that’s not a hickey?

charles’ eyes searched the aisle they were standing in. shampoo, shampoo, conditioner, hairbrush, straightener, more shampoo. wait. his eyes flitted back to the straighteners.

“c’est une brûlure.” it’s a burn. charles looked back at pierre’s amused face, “c'est vrai, je le jure.” it’s true, i swear.

pierre couldn’t hold back his laughter, his loud guffaws causing people to glance at the two men.

“une brûlure?” a burn? pierre chuckled, shaking his head.

“oui,” charles was firm in his lie, “une brûlure.” yes…a burn.

pierre’s shoulders shook as he bit his lip, nodding at his friend. clearly, he did not believe charles’ horrible lie.

“pierre, je dis la vérité!” charles crossed his arms. i’m telling the truth!

“oui, oui, mon frère.” pierre calmed down, “tu ne pourrais jamais me mentir.” yes, yes, my brother….you could never lie to me.

and it was true, charles really couldn’t. because pierre had already figured it out.

— four

although it obviously wasn’t something to be happy about, charles couldn’t help but grin when you told him about how you lost your luggage during your connecting flight and no longer had any clothes for the weekend.

in charles’ mind, this was the perfect set up. what better way to show the world you were his but also not at the same time? by dressing you in his clothes.

it was saturday when you finally agreed to wear his shirt out on the paddock. charles had quelled your worries by reassuring you that the shirt was new, having never been worn outside of the comfort of his own home or hotel room.

maybe it was the teenager in you but that morning, you stepped out into the paddock with a little pep in your step, undeniably happy to be wearing your boyfriend’s clothes out in public. charles wasn’t much different, catching sight of your figure walking past his side of the garage as you chatted with a young f1 intern.

you waved hi to many drivers as they passed by, continuing your conversation with the intern who was explaining how she got the opportunity to work at the paddock. although she worked under the fia, she was assigned to the team that worked directly with mclaren, hence why you now stood outside the motorhome as she went inside to grab some documents.

“hey! y/n, right?” your eyes dragged from where they were inspecting your ferrari paddock pass to the orange-clad figure walking up to you.

“hi, lando!” you moved your hands down the front of charles’ shirt, smoothing out any wrinkles.

unbeknownst to you, daniel was just a couple of steps behind lando, his eyes zeroing in on your shirt in slight confusion.

“you’ve met daniel before, right?” lando pointed to the driver behind him, the latter snapping his eyes back to your face and giving you a smile.

“no, i don’t think we have.” you stuck your hand out, “i’m y/n, friends with charles.”

daniel smiled, returning the handshake, “daniel, the better mclaren driver.”

as you watched lando complain about daniel lying with an amused look, daniel looked back down at your shirt and ferrari pass.

you parted ways with the two mclaren drivers not long after, getting a text from the intern saying she wouldn’t be able to accompany you any longer due to her work. you made your way back to the ferrari garage, smiling at the mechanics and engineers as you passed them.

charles’ room was empty, the ferrari driver busy in the media pen answering questions left and right. as you busied yourself scrolling through instagram, charles began making his way out of the media pen.

“hey, charles!” a loud voice called out.

charles stopped in his tracks, turning to face the australian who was jogging up to the monégasque, “hey, mate! how’re you?”

“great, great,” he clasped a hand on charles shoulder, “listen, so i got around to meeting your friend today.”

charles cocked his head to the side, “my friend?”

the two began walking back towards the motorhomes. daniel nodded, “yeah, uh, i think her name was y/n?”

charles nodded in realization, “right, yeah. of course, y/n. my friend.” definitely not his lover.

“yeah,” daniel chuckled at how obvious his friend was being, “so i couldn’t help but look at the shirt she was wearing?”

charles’ body tensed under daniel’s hand before quickly relaxing. he’s never worn that shirt outside, there’s no way daniel could know it’s his. not unless he missed something, which he definitely didn’t. charles would even go as far as to bet his entire career on the fact that there were no pictures of him in that shirt.

“mhm, what about it?” charles looked at daniel. there’s no telling how this conversation would pan out.

“well, it looks a lot like that shirt i got you for your birthday this year, doesn’t it?”

oh.

“hm, now that i think about it, it, uh, it definitely does, doesn’t it?” the ferrari motorhome was now in sight. so close yet so far.

“yeah, for a second there i thought it was the one i had got you.” daniel pegged, “but that’d be crazy, right, mate?”

charles’ hum was almost robotic, “yeah, definitely crazy.”

“but it’s such a bloody coincidence, no? i know there were only a few of those shirts made, and both you and your friend own one of them.” daniel smirked at charles’ nervous face. not long ago, he’d overheard lando and george talking about how charles had a secret girlfriend, and although he didn’t believe them then, right now, in this moment, he couldn’t help but think that lando and george were right.

“yeah,” charles chuckled awkwardly, “well, i gotta go get ready for q1. i’ll see you on the track.”

daniel laughed as he watched charles’ body disappear behind the motorhome doors, “ah, young love.”

— + one

it was the last race of the season. 22 races later, and still, no one knew of your relationship with charles. at least, that’s what you and charles thought.

once daniel found out about charles’ secret lover, he went around telling every driver he could see. by the summer break, a group chat had been made, titled ‘charles is a bad liar’, where for the rest of the season, the drivers would send inconspicuous pictures of you and charles. all pictures captured the two of you in situations and poses that made it so clear you two were dating. it seemed to the drivers that you guys had focused more on avoiding the actual media than the drivers on the grid as no one outside of the grid had a clue that you two were together.

charles had landed in pole position after an amazing qualifying and just like the first race, you found yourselves in his driver room, quiet murmurs and sweet kisses being dropped here and there.

“my world champion,” you cupped charles’ face with your hands, thumbs softly caressing his skin back and forth.

“there’s that bias again,” charles smiled, moving his head slightly to place a kiss on your palm. his hands reached up and grabbed your hands, pulling them down to his lap, “i’m gonna get that title for you, mon ange.”

“i don’t doubt you will, mon amour.” you pressed a kiss to his forehead, “good luck, and godspeed.”

if there was any day that charles would never forget, this day would surely be it. his eyes filled with tears as the checkered flag came into his view, the yells over the radio only confirming his achievement.

“that is p1, charles. you’ve done it. you’re a world champion, congratulations.”

you cried into pascale’s shoulder, the happy yells of charles ringing in your ears as you congratulated his family. in front of the podium, you had pushed and shoved your way to the front, smiling a watery smile as your boyfriend collected his trophy and title.

from the moment he finished his media duties, to the moment everyone packed up and headed home, charles was attached to your hip, arm wrapped around for everyone to see. the grid and the world.

just outside of your reach, the group chat was blowing up. every driver’s pocket buzzing every few minutes as someone sent pictures of the pair of you hugging and wrapped up in each other’s arms.

charles pulled you tight against himself, the wide smile on his face never disappearing. he placed his forehead against yours, “i did it, chérie.”

you smiled back at him, hands finding their home on his face once again, “i didn’t doubt you for a second, amour. i’m so proud of you, charles. i love you.”

“i love you more, ange.” charles pushed forward, connecting his lips with yours.

not far from you stood a large group of formula drivers, all with their phones out, snapping pictures and recording videos of the pair of you. the second you pulled away, they started yelling and cheering for charles.

the ferrari driver, no, the world champion laughed, “they finally know, now.”

“on le sait depuis le début de la saison, abruti.” we’ve known since the start of the season, dumbass.

“yeah, you suck at lying, mate.”

from the corner of your eye, you could see your brother grudgingly hand over fifty euros to arthur. in any other moment, you would have yelled at them for betting on you, but right now, you couldn’t care less.

you were in love with charles leclerc. a ferrari driver. a world champion. your boyfriend. and you didn't care who knew.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula one #formula 1 #ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ writes #lando norris #george russel #daniel ricciardo #pierre gasly #fluff #charles leclerc #charles #leclerc #cl16 #1k #2k

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monegazque · 1 year

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mercedes: let hamilton through

george russell:

#yall #i kinda hate it ngl #george russel #lewis hamilton #formula 1 #f1 #mercedes #mercedes amg f1 #jeddah gp 2023 #saudi arabia gp 2023 #APPARENTLY HE HAS TO LS IN HIS LAST NAME... WHO T HE FUCK #anyways. edited #george russell

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tsumnoda · 26 days

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the merc boys on their tractors looking at the redbulls

#z talks f1 #australian gp 2024 #lewis hamilton #george russel #lh44 #gr63

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landoom · 6 months

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Double date soon?

#f1 #lando norris #formula 1 #mctwinks #mclaren #f1 rpf #alex albon #george russel #oscar piastri #landoscar #galex

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blamemma · 1 month

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oscar piastri, daniel ricciardo and george russel during the drivers parade | 📍 jeddah corniche circuit, race day | 📸 zak mauger

#daniel ricciardo #oscar piastri #george russel #dr #op #gr #jeddah24 #i like the aussies hanging out together

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reesemon · 2 months

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me when i go to the generic british person competition but my opponent is George Russell

#im gonna lose #no hate to George Russell please don’t come for me #formula 1 #formula one #george russell #george russel

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lnorrizz · 3 months

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The 2019 rookies own my heart

Trying to upload some more of my art bc I forgot to post most of it

TikTok | Instagram | Twitter

#f1 #f1 fanart #formula 1 #my art #digital art #lando norris #lando norris fanart #digital drawing #2019 rookies #alex albon #george russel #mercedes #williams #mclaren

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httpiastri · 8 months

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zandvoort weekend highlights 💘💘

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norrussell · 6 months

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What Are Friends For | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: George is frustrated after a bad race and as his best friend you take it as your responsibility to make him feel better

Warnings: smut

A/N: this could be taken as part 2 of this, but you don't have to necessarily read it

George was charging through the Mercedes motorhome to his driver's room. Barely catching up to his long strides, you followed after him. Immediately, it was obvious that something was wrong. He didn't even stop to take off his helmet, much less check on you. The last time he had sprinted into the hospitality like this, he had collided with a TV crew and sent them rolling across the concrete floor.

The race started good, excellent even. The lead-in to the start was exciting. The initial straightaway was wide and flat, then leading down into a series of lazy curves. He blazed past the other racers with ease. Everything indicated that he was going to win that one, or at least end up on the podium. But everything took a wrong turn in the end.

Like he didn't know you were behind him, he almost slammed the door shut in your face.

"George!" you pushed through, but it was like he didn't even notice you.

He was in a state of frenzy, pacing around the room, his helmet still on and his eyes wild and unfocused. You had seen him like this only a handful of times before, and it always meant trouble. You knew how important this race was for George. He had been working tirelessly for weeks, preparing for this moment only to be taken away in a matter of seconds.

A stream of muffled curse words left his mouth as he finally began to remove his helmet.

"George, it's not your fault..." you knew better than to speak up right now, but you felt like you should say something when you're already there.

George turned to you with a look of anger in his eyes. "Not my fault?! Do you even know what happened out there?!" he shouted, dropping his helmet on the desk. "I was leading the race, and that idiot just had to ram into me and send me spinning off the track!"

You took a step back, not wanting to push him further, but George continued his tirade. "I had it in the bag, I was going to win, but now it's all ruined!" he yelled, pacing back and forth across the room.

"I know, George, but it happens to the best of them," you said, trying to calm him down.

George turned to you, his chest heaving with anger. "I don't want to hear it," he spat. "I'm sick and tired of this. I pour my heart and soul into this sport, and for what? To have it all taken away in an instant?"

You watched as he ran his hands through his hair, his eyes filled with frustration and disappointment. You knew that George was a perfectionist, and losing was not an option for him.

You nodded, understanding. "I'm sorry, George. I know it's tough."

He let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know what to do. I feel like I let everyone down. My team, my sponsors, myself."

"You didn't let anyone down, George. These things happen. It's part of the sport," you said, trying to reassure him.

"But I was so close to winning. I could taste it," he muttered, staring off into the distance.

"You'll have another chance," you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're a great driver, George. You'll bounce back from this."

George glared at you, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't want to just win the next race. I wanted to win this one. This was my chance and I lost it."

You took a step back, unsure of what to say to him. You knew that he was in a delicate state, and any wrong word could set him off again. There was a moment of silence, as the two of you stood there, the weight of the disappointment heavy in the air.

"If there's anything I can do to help-"

"How could you possibly help?!" he snapped again, turning around.

You flinched at the tone of his voice, closing your eyes and reassuring yourself that he wasn't mad at you. He slumped onto the couch, covering his face with his hands. After a moment, he dragged them down along his face exhaling deeply.

"I'm sorry." he said more softly, his eyes searching for yours.

"It's fine." you said. "I've gotten used to it. I know you're not actually upset with me." you gave him a weak smile.

"I don't want you getting used to something that shouldn't even happen in the first place." he looked at you apologetically.

"I don't mind-"

"You should." he cut you off.

"Alright then, let me help you feel better." you walked up to him and stood in between his legs.

George looked up at you, exhaustion evident in his eyes. "I don't think anything can make me feel better right now," he said, his voice flat.

"Well, there's one thing I can certainly try to ease the tension." your hands undid the collar of his suit and found the zipper, pulling it down.

"Wh-What are you-"

"Just relax, George." you smiled, your hands removing the overalls from his broad shoulders and revealing his black fireproofs.

George's eyebrows furrowed as he watched you, confusion written all over his face. He was still too caught up in his own disappointment to understand what you were doing. You leaned in closer to him, your fingers trailing over his chest. Your palms slid down his abdomen as you sank down to your knees in front of him.

George's eyes widened as he watched you sink to your knees, his breath catching in his throat. He couldn't believe what was happening, but he also couldn't deny that his body was responding to your touch, his eyes darting back to the door for a moment before returning to you. You could see the tension in his body slowly dissipating as you continued to touch him.

Just when you were about to take his racing suit further down, he caught at your wrists.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"Yeah, you helped me last time, now I want to return the favor."

"You don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything." he looked more intensely in your eyes.

It's been a few weeks since the event that occurred in George's kitchen, but neither of you has mentioned it at all since then, as per your request. Although you didn't let it show, it was lingering in the back of your mind, constantly nagging you.

"I know." you said like it was obvious. "But I want to. Let me take care of you like you took care of me."

George hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. Then he nodded, his grip on your wrists loosening as he leaned back on the couch. "Okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your fingers continuing their exploration of his body, taking in the contours of his muscles and the warmth of his skin. George inhaled sharply as your hands continued to undress him, his hips lifting up to help you, revealing the tight black boxers he wore underneath. You ran your hands over the bulge in his shorts, feeling him start to harden under your touch.

"Is this okay?" you asked, your eyes meeting his.

His eyes seemed to soften, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He nodded slowly, "Definitely."

You dug your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, but there he was, stopping you again.

"It's not too late to back out of this if you want." he put his hands over yours.

"George, I swear to god if you interrupt me again I just might. I am not backing out." you said, your voice firm and unwavering.

"Sorry." he put his hands up in defense, smiling a little.

You slid his boxers down, taking in the sight of his growing cock, shiny and wet with a small drop of pre-cum. You rubbed your thumb over the head, feeling the pre-cum spread over his shaft. George moaned, his hands going to your hair, running his fingers through it. He let his head fall back on the couch, his eyes closed as his hips started moving in small circles.

George's cock was nice and long, and seeing it only made you want to taste it. You let your hand crawl up the column of his cock, teasing the underside with your fingers.

"Ahh, y/n..." he groaned, a look of pleasure on his face.

You felt a shiver run through your body at the sound of your name. The amount of passion and lust in that one word was like music to your ears. You felt your confidence rise at the sound of it, your lips wrapping around his head.

George let out another groan, his body arching towards you. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue curling around his cock as you moved.

It was warm and smooth, and you couldn't get enough of it. The taste flooded your mouth. You felt yourself getting wet, the sound of George's heavy breathing spurring you on. You continued to work his cock, letting it hit the back of your throat before letting it slide back out, your hands softly cupping his balls.

George let out another moan as you nailed his sweet spot, his cock hitting the back of your mouth over and over. His hips started to buck against you as he approached his climax, a hand gripping the back of your head.

Your jaw was getting tired from sucking him off, but you didn't want him to finish just yet. You released him from your mouth, lapping at his tip, letting your tongue circle around him. You let go of him, taking a break before you took him back in your mouth, sucking on him even harder than before, letting your spit drip all over his cock.

"Please, don't stop." he panted, his voice hot and heavy.

You hummed a little around his member, your hands gripping his hips as you deep throated him more. You watched as his toes curled, his eyes closed shut, his face completely lost in pleasure.

"Ahh.. ahh..." he gasped, his body tensing up. "I'm coming." He let out one last moan before you felt his cock throbbing in your mouth.

Then he released, warm cum shooting into your mouth. "You don't have to... Fuck, you swallowed."

You let the salty liquid slide down your throat, massaging his cock as you slowly released it, sucking the last of it from the tip while keeping eye contact. You licked your lips, savoring the taste.

"Wait," he said, and ran his thumb over the corner of your mouth, wiping off any leftovers.

You grabbed his wrist and put his finger into your mouth, sucking and twirling your tongue around it.

He sighed, his body feeling lighter than it has in a long time. "Holy shit."

You released his thumb with a pop, smiling mischievously. "Is that all you can say?"

"I'm still recovering from this," he said, his voice light and airy as he looked down at you. His chest heaved heavily as he caught his breath, his hands moving to brush through your hair, lightly gripping your scalp. "God, you're amazing."

"So... You feel better?" you asked, your eyes watching his, a light from within them that wasn't there before.

He nodded, a smile on his lips. "Much better."

"Good." you said, the sight of him making you feel good.

"Uh, I should clean up..." he said.

"Oh, right," you exclaimed, pulling up his boxer for him and standing up.

"Wait," he said, grabbing your hand. "Can we... not let this get awkward between us?"

Maybe George finally understood how you felt the last time when you asked the same from him.

You nodded, your hand still in his. "Of course not."

"Great," he said, his free hand grabbing yours. He pulled you towards him, his hand running up and down your side. "I really, really enjoyed this."

"I did too," you replied, your hand on his chest.

"Thank you." he kissed your forehead and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

As you sat at the desk, you couldn't help but think about what you had done. Even though the gesture was for George, there was a part of you that knew it was for yourself too. Ever since he helped you get off that one time at his place, your mind wouldn't stop replaying the memory. You knew that something like that could never happen again, but now that you've repaid him -even though he would have never asked- there was a weight lifted off your shoulders.

You understood that no matter what happened between you two, that even if things were awkward at first, in the grand scheme of things everything would be okay. Your friendship was stronger than anything else. You've overcome it before, you can certainly do it again.

That was, until…

Next part

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