#i love checo a normal amount

[barcaislifeee]

quick break from futbol to bring u this f1 pirelli ad that made me CRY

#formula 1 #f1 #sergio perez #checo perez #yuki tsunoda #WHEN I TELL YOU I IMMEDIATELY SOBBED #IDC ABOUT U ALL I LOVE CHECO #AND SEEING THIS MADE ME #SOOOOO EMOTIONAL #THINKING OF HIM RELATING TO YUKI #OH MY GOD #IM CRYING AGAIN #i am so normal #i promise you #i love checo a normal amount

[sebscore]

FEMALE F1 DRIVER HEADCANONS 

pairing: f1!drivers x fem!driver, f1 grid x oc

warnings: i didn't specify which team, cause it's not really about that tbh. I imagine the oc being one of the younger ones on the grid (around mick's age). I based this one on the 2022 grid. 

author's note: this is basically how things i imagine that would happen with the grid if you were their only female colleague. 

▹ seb and lewis basically being your work parents: defending you from misogynistic reporters, praising you to heaven and back, claiming you are right even when you are obviously wrong in a situation. sewis supports women's rights, but mostly women's wrongs.

▹ the wags either absolutely adore you or they tolerate you, there's no in between. It's girls support girls until one of their boyfriends gives you a hug and then you're fucked. 

▹ getting away with wrong answers in 'Grill the Grid' because the production team are totally in love with you and they hate your sad face when you give them an incorrect response.

▹ giving the grid nicknames that go from normal to borderline weird. for example, Mick becomes Mickie, Latifi becomes Nicky or Goatifi (depends on how the race went), Alex is Albono of course, George becomes Russy Bussy and Lando is Rumplestiltskin. 

▹ at the driver's briefing: ''alright, boys-'' *scratches voice loudly* ''and lady.'' 

▹ valtteri and kevin letting you ramble to them about whatever drama you have going on in your life, cause they don't have much better things to do and they find it touching that you go to them for these kinds of things. 

▹ you and zhou sending pictures of the outfits you're going to wear to the paddock during race week. sometimes even matching, cause yall are close like that. 

▹ max teaching you his second language that is called 'swearing'. checo also likes to chime in. one time he convinced you the word 'cunt' was a compliment and he made you go up to max and call him that to congratulate him on his race win. let's say mad max made a brief appearance. 

▹ jokingly flirting with other drivers just to rile toxic fans up for fun. the flirting consists honestly mostly of sarcastic comments about how they're good drivers, but better lovers, etc. 

▹ fernando giving you random piggyback rides. for what reason? no one knows. It's nando, what do you expect. danny ric also does it sometimes, but he makes horse sounds and it freaks you out. 

▹ you and esteban jokingly asking lance for pocket money, but you two sometimes hope he actually gives it one day. 

▹ weekly gossip sessions with Pierre, because that man seems to know everything about everyone. occasional guest starring by charles and yuki. 

▹ whenever carlos walks into the room, you start playing 'smooth operator'. at first he thought it was funny, but now he deliberately avoids you. 

▹ overdramatic photoshoots with lando and daniel aka the papaya boys for their insta accounts. those jpg accounts are honestly just fan pages for you, because of the amount of times you've appeared on them.

▹ overdramatic photoshoots with lando and daniel aka the papaya boys for their insta accounts. those jpg accounts are honestly just fan pages for you, because of the amount of times you've appeared on them.

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fics #formula 1 fic #formula 1 oc #f1 oc #f1 x oc #f1!drivers x fem!driver

[isabellabrodar]

Can I request something?

What about Lando fooling around with his toddler at the paddock?

thank u! xx

favorite fan | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

warnings: none

word count: ~1,2k

——————————————————————————

all your worries about bringing your daughter to a grand prix for the first time vanished once you saw the excitement in lando’s eyes as he spotted the two of you walking into the mclaren building.

“what are you two doing here?” your boyfriend asked when he finally reached you. aelin’s arms immediately went up in his direction and she let out the most adorable giggle when lando picked her up and sat her in his arms.

“well your daughter really wanted to meet lewis hamilton, so i thought, why not bring her here.” you answered sarcastically while pointing at her outfit. she was wearing a toddlers mclaren tshirt and an orange skirt, paired with a cap on her head that had the teams logo and the number four on it.

“you look absolutely adorable, my love.” lando said to aelin who had started wiggle in his arms, trying to see what was happening around her.

“we’re gonna stay for qualifying, but i don’t know if we’re going to make it to the race tomorrow.”

“that’s alright, darling. thank you so much for coming.” you boyfriend gave you a peck on the lips while placing one of his hands on the small of your back.

“let’s go, i have so much to show her.” his excitement really started to show as you made your way outside and he started to tell you about how well the last practice went.

the paddock was filling up quickly. media teams trying to get some footage before the qualifying seasions and a couple of famous people using their vip access to stroll past the team buildings. the amount of people and cameras would’ve normally made you nervous, your instincts to bring your daughter home kicking in. but she had a huge smile on her face, matching her dad’s who was proudly explaining everything.

“okay so this is were the good drivers work, my love.” lando stated as we walked out of the orange building

“but these lads over there are very, very slow. you will only ever see them in your mirrors.” he was now pointing at max who was talking to checo and charles, all three of them too engaged in their conversation to hear lando’s comment.

“daniel is going to join us in a minute and then we can go to the garage.” you couldn’t help but smile at your little family when lando turned around to face you, making sure you heard him. aelin was holding onto him tightly while trying to look at everyone and everything that was surrounding her.

you also tried to take everything in, realizing that it had been a very long time since you joined your boyfriend for a race weekend. lando was pointing at drivers and staff again while whispering in aelin’s ear, who in return seemed to be absolutely hypnotized by the scenery around her.

“y/n is that you? oh my it feels like i haven’t seen you in ages!” just as you turned towards daniel, he was already pulling you into a very big hug, pressing your face against his chest.

“mate, your suffocating her.” lando exclaimed from next to you.

“good to see you too, danny.” you smiled up at the tall driver. you had grown close quickly after he joined the team in the past year.

“weren’t you just at our house last week?” a laugh escaped you as you recalled him falling asleep next to aelin on the couch after having had a tad too much wine at dinner.

“maybe, still good to see you back here. and you too of course.” his attention now turned to your daughter who was holding onto her dad tightly.

“dan, hand me your sunglasses for a second?” a mischievous smile was forming on lando’s face.

“lando, you’re already wearing a pair.” you pointed out but daniel didn’t hesitate, already laughing because he knew what his teammate had planned. you couldn’t help but giggle when lando placed them on your daughter’s face. he had already turned her tiny mclaren cap around, so now she was matching her dad perfectly. the pair of them looked adorable together, the glasses almost hiding all of her face but you could still see her big smile underneath.

as you made your way towards the garage you noticed several people turning their attention towards lando. you saw them whisper, some people even took pictures of him holding his daughter. and while you knew that this was just another side of being somewhat famous, it made you very uncomfortable to have your daughter out in the open like that. it seemed like your boyfriend could sense how you tensed up next to him. so when he took your hand in his and gave it a little squeeze, he also leaned down to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“it’s okay, my love. her face is almost fully covered by the glasses.”

“i know, i know” you whispered back, whilst again admiring how great of a dad lando really was. you had never really doubted it anyways, but finding out you were pregnant came really unexpected. and with the both of you being so young and still in the midst of working on your careers it was quite the shock. but you two are handling it very well and every time you look at lando and your little girl, you realize that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

the garage was already filled with mechanics and a couple of engineers that were getting both mclaren cars ready for qualifying.

“okay, normally people don’t get to do this, but since you’re my favorite fan, let’s get you inside.”

“lan, do you really think that’s a good idea?” you laughed when you saw that aelin was already reaching for the orange race car, trying to get closer to it.

“she’ll be in her own sooner or later anyway.” your boyfriend explained while placing your daughter onto the seat. she wasn’t even tall enough to look over the steering wheel but that didn’t seem to bother her. aelin started to press all of the buttons in front of her while smiling from ear to ear and letting out a couple of giggles.

“see, she loves it.” lando said as he put his arm around your waist, pulling you up against his side. he had his phone out in the other hand, filming his daughter while she was exploring the inside of his race car.

“you know what we should do, darling?”

“what?” you asked whilst keeping your eyes on your little girl.

“have another one.” lando said to you.

“i think you better finally propose first, mate.” daniel half-shouted from where he was standing with someone from the media team.

——————————————————————————

please just imagine lando doing his model walk around the paddock someday, but with his kid in his arms. adorable

hope this goes into the direction of what you wanted:))

#imagine #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #lando norris #fluff #f1 #charles lecrelc #max verstappen #sergio perez

[thetwelfthcrow]

For the trick or treat ask, I would love to know what are your headcanons about Mawis and their interactions with the other drivers please 🙏🏼🥺?

hello!! thank u !! this is fun to brainstorm !!

god okay i think people who baby-max raced with will definitely need some time to adjust to the idea. one, because lewis was already a legend in the making before most of these guys even entered F1 and two because lewis is .... old. er. older.

but also, and i live in a world where homophobia's a unique disease only a very small amount of people worldwide carry, the grid would be generally really accepting of it all. mainly, probably, because these are two legends of the sport who are absolutely capable of outperforming everyone on the grid and you'd want them on your side. two, because it's also none of their business, really.

lando would love it. at first, he'd be a bit conflicted about max being basically his age (max is only two years older) and having grown up together and then big, legendary lewis hamiton who lando grew up looking up to is suddenly smooching his friend. but he'd get used to it and be really stoked. he'd wedge himself in between as some sort of adopted child, going to parties and going wild with max and martin and then being brought home safe by lewis.

george would hate it. he looks up to lewis in a way that i think he'd sink to his knees and suck his dick if lewis asked. and he doesn't really seem to get along with max (maybe out of some twisted loyalty to lewis/merc, maybe british pride, maybe jealousy). he'd be okay with it but he'd also look away when max chats up with lewis and gives lewis a kiss before he heads to his own garage. he'd probably very loudly Not Have An Opinion which really is a thinly veiled opinion of its own.

checo would look at max like, really? oh. really? and max would nod, maybe lewis would be there and max would squeeze lewis' hand, and then checo pats max on his shoulder and goes on with his day.

daniel would make jokes about it to try and ease the mood, but personally i'd think he'd make max a tiny bit uncomfortable with it and lewis politely laughs along. basically, i think daniel would respond the way he does in the last chapter of three small daises.

fernando would awkwardly congratulate max and lewis, but he's also in a position where he's too old to really care about other's business, so he just makes a few well-meant comments and then changes the subject back to racing.

oscar would. would just 🙂👍

yuki would, like lando, somehow find himself in this position where both max and lewis are completely endeared by the young driver and want him to do well, so it's kind of adoption as far as non-parental colleague-adoption goes. yuki would be totally stoked about this, looking up to both drivers.

alex would be very loudly and sweetly confused and also excited about it. he likes both max and lewis, so it's great for him. he'd be the only one that can make good gay jokes about it. non-offensive gay jokes. he'd also know when a comment from a journalist is meant in a lowkey homophobic way and he'd also glare angrily at it or even answer the question in a completely normal way that fully takes out the gayness of the equation.

charles, to me, feels a bit more distant from both lewis and max than lando or alex do. so, i don't know. i think he'd be happy his friends are happy and he'd make a nice comment on it, maybe even send a gift basket or whatever, but he'd also go back to work and sit happily beside them on the presscon couch the way he does now.

carlos would make jokes about it with max that are supportive, he'd be Normal about it to lewis. i think he'd generally be quite supportive of this relationship.

k-mag would be genuinely stoked and sweet about it, hulk would make an ehhh comment that gets one glare and a half from max and a 'i'm gonna pretend i don't get it'-response from lewis and then he'd know his place. he means well, especially to max, i think.

valtteri would be...valtteri. happy for lewis, that he's in a good relationship, unsure how to Behave. not in a homophobic way, more in a my-colleagues-are-dating way. in an i-didn't-expect-this way. he does smile nicely whenever he sees lewis happy so that goes for max as well

i don't know lance, esteban, pierre, logan, or zhou well enough to make a comment if i'm honest.

christian and all other red bull personell that worked there in and before 2021 will seriously have to Adjust to the idea solely because lewis is and will always be, a rival.

phew! tough question! anything i put here might very not be the case if i'll ever end up writing these drivers interact with canon!mawis, but we'll see! it was fun to brainstorm and also made me realise how little i know some of em lmao

[context; trick or treat! receive a three-sentence-fic, drabble, headcanon, sneak-peek, last sentence i wrote, new fic idea, random line from a fic, an idea for a sequel or behind-the-scenes info!

#rafarogeliofr #4433 #trick or treat #zhalia’s lil’ chit chat

[slow-button-off]

All your points about sainz makes me enjoying his good drives less than from every other driver. Beginning of the season when he spend more time in the gravel and being just slow there where always excuse even from ferrari side. Rear is moving to much, tyres where gone a something with the steering wheel. He wasn't closer to lec than perez to max and nobody cared. Ferrari tries everything to help him and red bull is like yeah let's support our fast driver.

Hiya!

You are getting a full on rant from me because the narrative of Ferrari vs Carlos drives me up the wall.

I have to preface this by saying that Carlos is a perfectly good driver and that this isn't really something to hold against him as a person because he isn't the one that made this whole narrative into a thing.

I don't agree with everything he says but I only really have an issue with one little statement because that one was just stupid.

I understand that Carlos was really loved when he was at McLaren and that he was McLaren fans wise pretty much on the same level as Lando. And I also get that people wanted that to be exactly the same at Ferrari. But it makes a difference when you join a team at the same time as a rookie vs joining a team when they have their guy already in place and he's been there for a little while. And it's been really obvious that he is their guy for the future. I don't think it's entirely unexpected that that person has a bit more support from the fans or even the team to a certain extent.

And I understand that that is uncomfortable for some people to accept. But there is no need to come up with ways in which your favourite driver is being mistreated when compared to like every other driver in a similar position in their team he actually has one of the best situations.

They can't build up the narrative that the team doesn't support him car wise or strategy wise so they have to come up with other ways to have someone to blame for something. And the next best thing is the fact that there are maybe three people less there for the podium celebrations while ignoring all context.

They aren't even comparing Ferrari celebrating achievements between their drivers they are comparing it to other teams and not all team celebrate the same way.

And even in Silverstone people would have you think that there was nobody there for the podium but there was a perfectly normal amount of staff there. And we can't make a comparison to Charles first win because Spa 2019 was a whole different situation.

But the real question to me is do those 3 less people under the podium really matter?

He is in a team that is tweaking their upgrades to help with his driving style. (Just for the record that doesn't harm Charles, but it shows that getting Carlos comfortable is a priority). And if you listened to what Checo has said a lot of different times recently he would love to have that. It makes perfect sense to get Carlos more comfortable in the car because it'll lead to better team results. But it also shows that he has a lot of support.

When he had his bad start to the season the team didn't blame him but kept talking about the car and about how they were going to work to get him more comfortable. That's a luxury that a lot of drivers don't get. They haven't blamed him for a single bad performance even when he had like no pace compared to his teammate. They'd say it was the car. Checo doesn't get that treatment.

Anytime Carlos does well but there were issues with Charles race that Charles didn't even cause they pretend that Charles doesn't exist on social media. All they post about and give attention to is Carlos. It's not like he doesn't get praise for his great performances.

Carlos got a contract extension when a lot of the media were speculating if he was really going to get one because his performances were a bit meh. This team clearly believes in him.

Another thing that Checo for example doesn't get and surely would like is that Carlos is never asked to sacrifice his own race to help Charles. And most of the very strange strategy decisions that Ferrari have made this season were born out of the fact that they didn't have two drivers at similar pace and that they had to use Charles the guy in the lead of the race to cover his own undercut in a risky way because they couldn't use Carlos without ruining his own race because his pace didn't allow for normal way of covering.

RB do that to Checo here and there.

Ferrari refrained from calling a 1-2 when the entire media and fans of all other teams thought that they were stupid for not doing it. But Ferrari didn't because Carlos and his confidence matter to them. (and it makes sense when looking at the future)

None of that is Carlos fault but this idea that his is getting horribly mistreated is just wrong.

For guy that is getting absolutely spanked by his teammate (if you remove the strategy issues) and is particularly getting spanked pace wise (it's exactly the same as it is with RB actually) he is getting really really good treatment if the only thing that people can find to criticise the team for is the fact that there were three people less waiting at the podium after a shite race for the entire team.

I'm sure Checo would trade those 5 extra mechanics for the rest of the treatment. Because performance wise they are similarly far away from their teammates.

#📨

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 18

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 7.6k

Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.

Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven. 

Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind. 

If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.

Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.

"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."

"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."

"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."

Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"

"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."

"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.

"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"

"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.

"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."

"I don't think-"

Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"

Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks. 

"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.

"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."

"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."

"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."

"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"

"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."

"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.

"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."

"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.

"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."

Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.

"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"

"A few extra pennies."

The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.

"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."

"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there. 

Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.

"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."

"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.

"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.

Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.

"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.

"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair. 

You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.

"I'll tell you a story." 

Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"

Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.

"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"

**********

Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.

The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.

Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.

"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.

Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.

Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.

Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.

“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.” 

The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.

Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.

Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.

"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."

How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.

But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."

Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"

"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."

"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"

You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.

"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."

"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."

You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh. 

“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”

“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”

Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?” 

"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web. 

Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."

You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.

“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”

Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”

“What do you-”

Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.

He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.

Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.

Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.

Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"

A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.

"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.

"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."

Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.

"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project. 

Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."

"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"

"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.

"Are you ready to order?"

The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile. 

How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-

The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."

"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.

"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"

Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."

"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter. 

"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise. 

The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.

You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"

"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."

The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.

"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."

You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."

Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."

Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.

"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine. 

"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.

"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes. 

"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.

"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"

"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.

"Excuse me?"

You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.

"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."

"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.

Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."

Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile. 

"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.

"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."

Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior. 

Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.

And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.

"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.

"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."

Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.

“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”

“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”

Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."

"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.

"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging. 

For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.

A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers. 

"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."

**********

Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.

"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.

Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.

"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle. 

You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.

"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."

You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."

Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."

A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.

"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.

"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."

Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee. 

Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.

A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.

Come on down baby

The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.

You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.

The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.

Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."

"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"

"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.

Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.

"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.

"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.

"Definitely not you I'm worried about."

As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.

Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.

Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"

Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.

"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"

"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.

The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.

Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.

If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.

When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.

You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"

Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."

"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.

"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."

**********

As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.

"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.

"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.

"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.

"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.

Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.

"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"

Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.

"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.

"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.

"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."

"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.

"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"

Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.

"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.

"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."

"Pierre!"

Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"

Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler​

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In addition to that, but a majority of users in most cases update the others regarding progression by publishing videos on their achievements and challenges, to ensure the entire city is only superb motivating! Perhaps you may study in a number of critiques that a Reviews of BarStarzz BTX 3.0 by ReviewsMagz school is certainly not worth the money simply because it is too expensive and doesn’t provide nearly anything further, having said that i really feel that’s BS. The city all by yourself will be worth way over the path total price if you decide to you can ask me. Finding the perfect neighborhood works to make all the difference for many people, therefore i cannot positive reviews this element about the Review of BarStarzz BTX 3.0 by ReviewsMagz school an adequate amount of. What Gear Are You Needing for BarStarzz BTX Program? Since this is principally a bodyweight working out targeted strategy, you will not must have a lot of devices. All you really need is: A pullup club A spot to operate body weight rows A spot to operate dips If you should don’t have any of these, I suggest you just go walking with the nearest calisthenics park in your town and you will be 100% covered up dealing with technology. Things I Enjoyed One of the best situation about Reviews of BarStarzz BTX by Ed Checo is that you could do the whole thing at your home, provided that you have critical devices we just mentioned above. One-time cost, no reason to subscribe to a single thing and moreover, there are zero disguised rates, which can be alas not always true in the most services. The Thing I cannot compliments ample certainly is the accommodating society you’ll be a part of when you finally subscribe. This alone is definitely worth the price. I additionally preferred their calisthenics knowledge guides that could teach you how to perform a handstand, back handle, front part handle, the muscle up and perhaps the tuck plenches. While I handled most of these on Men As opposed to. Excess weight, I purchased to disclose their guides are significantly better than my own. I additionally preferred that you can down load a lot of the exercise routine supplies to acquire in the real world accessibility training course. This can be very effective, and many training don’t supply this opportunity that could be especially uncomfortable. Something I Did Not Like I stubled onto a few of the training being fairly drawn out in excess of 40 minutes, but actually this can greatly reduce as you become more powerful and. Generally, I don’t like if my exercises are over 30 minutes, but that’s just my selection. And as I said, just like you improvement, you will unquestionably locate your exercise routines to use less and less time, so even in the event you are genuinely occupied you will know how to press them in. The fact is, I couldn’t try to obtain the tutorial videos them selves, so whenever you greatly reduce access to the training course you will shed admission to these Hi-def videos at the same. Another problem for me was that a few of the articles and other content was a tad unorganized for my liking. I could possibly consistently determine what I necessary, it just had a lttle bit for time for me than envisioned. By way of example, Tier 2 bundle was named just before Degree 1 and many others. No popular issues, I really contemplate these matters might be straightforward to resolve. Review of BarStarzz BTX - The Actual Final Outcome: Could It Be Good for you? I don’t say this more often than not, although i consider the ReviewsMagz BarStarzz BTX 3.0 Review software program is virtually for all people. Whether you’re a newcomer or more advanced, you are likely to find certainly a new challenge inside the over 250 HD exercise videos. And also the tremendous, supporting neighbourhood that you will arrive at be part of the instant you work with is correctly out invaluable. Needless to say, it’s not really magic pill magic formula and you’ll simply have to make the working hard, however it will pay out thousands of time periods. Of course, if you’re witout a doubt particularly enhanced and discover how to perform almost all superb calisthenics abilities, and you’re presently lovely delighted by our bodies there is no requirement to fork out of the funds of this system. But if so, I don’t believe you will have to finance any study course, so put a stop to viewing web based ratings and go, do your proven physical exercises and get way of life! Nonetheless, if you’re not yet totally content with your fitness goals, go to check out the official ReviewsMagz BarStarzz BTX Reviews product there. And in case you have questions along the route just you may want to seek me inside of the commentary just below.