#max could drive the Merc and get wins anyways

[fcb-mv33]

Watch Redbull mess up their development and car next year to suit Checo because he is too slow. That RB engineer talking about how this years car was a failure because only Max could do well in it is crazy and how they didn’t do enough to make Checo comfortable. Why would they think that and ruin an already great car but also that looks bad on Max and makes people go I told you it was built just for Max

Red Bull aren’t that dumb.

[valyrfia]

f1 drivers as tracks from the tortured poets department: a very abridged and very biased list.

DISCLAIMER: this is all for fun and should be taken very lightheartedly. Not all drivers were included, but I am open to suggestions as well as constructive criticism.

Without further ado:

CHARLES LECLERC - I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

Absolutely suicidal lyrics that should be mildly concerning but all in all very upbeat and makes you want to run around doing side quests. Such as write an album, or open an ice cream shop. I'm thinking this is specifically 2022 Charles when he trusted no one at Ferrari, or mid-2023 when everyone was calling him washed and calling for his teammate to be n1 driver, and then he proceeded to put it on pole in a tractor multiple times and still hasn't finished outside the top 5 since. Either way, I am looking forward how this song will hit when Charles gets his eventual championship.

MAX VERSTAPPEN - Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

This one is for Mad Max, who was thrust onto the world stage as an untested young prodigy at seventeen, who was called too young and immature and proceeded to win a GP upon debut in a top team, who was called Crashtappen from 2015-2019 and labelled as overly aggressive to his detriment, who was painted as a villain by every media outlet and documentary and DTS episode, who said "fuck the haters" and won championships anyway, who broke records, and made his own national anthem the expected song for every podium. A driver who is fast approaching greatest of all time status, for his win streaks alone. A driver that most others now just shrug about, because there's no shame in not choosing to fight the inevitable.

LEWIS HAMILTON - So Long, London

Ah, the heart-wrenching track of letting go of your long-term British relationship that doesn't serve you anymore. So many lyrics from here I could apply to the rumoured break down of amicable relations between Lewis and Mercedes, the team he won six championships with. From "My spine split from carrying us up the hill" to "I didn't opt in to be your odd man out. I founded the club she's heard great things about" to "you say I abandoned the ship But I was going down with it. My white-knuckle dying grip. Holding tight to your quiet resentment". Honestly, I could copy and paste all the lyrics here and they would apply to Lewis' Merc swan song. Taylor wrote "you swore that you loved me but where were the clues, I died on the altar waiting for the proof." about Abu Dhabi 2021.

CARLOS SAINZ - The Prophecy

Carlos has been delivering some of the best drives of his career this season, but it doesn't matter because he's not the chosen one, he's not il predestinato, he's not the son of Maranello. No matter what he does, he would never have kept that Ferrari seat over the mythos of Charles Leclerc. "Let it once be me. Who do I have to speak to, to redo the prophecy?"

LANDO NORRIS - Guilty as Sin?

Specifically given for half-flirting with Red Bull for most of last season, only to shake himself out of it and re-sign with McLaren, but I have one eye on him, not entirely sure he's given up on the Red Bull daydream, and Red Bull have been open about wanting to get him, if they can. It's all on Lando to stay faithful.

OSCAR PIASTRI - Fresh Out the Slammer

Piastrigate continues to inspire and compel an entire generation of F1 fans, and as such should form the basis of Oscar's song selection. What was the promises that Alpine made him, if not "Gray and blue and fights and tunnels Handcuffed to the spell I was under For just one hour of sunshine"

FERNANDO ALONSO - Florida!!!

Florida!!! is a big and powerful song about being a Shakespearean villain with a History and questionable morals and motives. Who is that if not Fernando Alonso? "Tell me I'm despicable, say it's unforgivable." "Is that a bad thing to say in a song?"

LANCE STROLL - But Daddy I Love Him

Yeah this one is self-indulgent and too good to resist. He's singing it about Fernando btw. Next.

DANIEL RICCIARDO - Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

Someone is getting that Red Bull seat next year, and every name is on the list except Daniel Ricciardo. "As the decade played us for fools, you saw my bones out with somebody new." Who knows what would have happened if Daniel hadn't left Red Bull, all those years ago? "Just say you loved me the way you were" Oof. We could spend years living in the What Ifs of it all.

[vro0m]

I was going to ask what's the discourse about, but I never go on the main tag, so... I wouldn't inflict that on you.

And yeah, that thing you said about each driver's fanbase is true. I realise that there are two sides. On one hand, you have those who like the driver, support him, and that's all. You won't see them in the trenches of fandoms war because they do not care.

Then, on the other hand, you have those who are "hardcore" fans. They know everything about the driver. To the family members to the strological chart. They know everything. Everything good must happen to their fave driver while the others can just lick hot lava. If the driver encounters any form of hardship, it's "They are treating him unfairly" or "That person should have done this or that, so that we could have [insert desired outcome for the driver]."

I do not even know if there is a middle ground.

Well regarding both the discourse and your ask, I've seen a few posts go by about black and white thinking and that's what prompted me to go to the tag in the first place.

I think it was @formulahs who said yesterday that people have the wrong expectations for what a career in f1 is supposed to look like because we've gone from one unheard of period of dominance with the Lewis/Merc combo to another with Max/RB and now some people seem to think that's what F1 is :

You either win all the time or you're a bad driver.

That's not actually true. These are two outliers back to back somehow, but normal F1 careers don't look like that. It's also due to modern F1 regs and how they tend to maintain one team that gets it right from the start at the top for a long time until others may or may not catch up. The fact is that these prolonged periods of dominance are precisely what F1 and the FIA have been actively fighting with things such as the cost cap, frequent new regs, and the wind tunnel allocation rules.

The fact that people have these unrealistic expectations for their favorite drivers I believe is in part what drives them to these extremes. They expect him to be perfect (on and off track btw but that's a different conversation) and he can't because that's not a thing. So they have to find reasons why, to make sense of it, to preserve the narrative that he is a Good Driver.

For me it all ties back once again into not seeing F1 as a sport but as a TV show and not seeing drivers as athletes or even just people but as characters.

A driver is not a Hero, a Main Character, a Protagonist. A driver is a guy trying to do his job.

There's no foreshadowing or hints of a conspiracy or a plot twist coming because there's no plot, there's just life. There's also no redemption arc or punitive saga because there's no arc or saga, there's just life.

Anyway I don't think it rests on whether the person knows a lot about the driver or not. I know a lot about Lewis by now but if anything it humanized him more in my eyes.

I'm gonna go full psychologist on everyone as usual because what else can I do : seeing your favorite driver as an object is not about him, it's about yourself, and your own ability to 1) step back 2) manage your emotions 3) accept reality including in its difficult aspects of frustration and uncertainty

[pickingupmymercedes]

So, I'm pretty sure George is going nowhere unless it's on his own will. Toto is not the only decision-making person in Mercedes, and the others seem to be very pro George. There has also been a lot of media content of him lately, not only in European/Western media, but also in China. There is no reason to let George go, especially not in his current form. Toto has been loud to praise him in German TV, has been defending him and they do have a comparable relationship, they know each other since George was 15. In my opinion, the Max/Kimi talk was about who gets the other seat and not about having both of them in one team, and Toto really like to stir up the media sometimes. Even if George decided to leave the team after 25, there will be many teams to gladly pick him up, so we should not worry. It's nothing but speculations after all. (and I have not heard anything about that handover, but that would be the most stupidest thing Mercedes could do. Lewis won 6 world titles with them, Kimi has never raced in F1 before. That's even more pressure to put on him, and he will not be the number 1 driver from the beginning as he has literally zero experience. I'm really hopeful to believe that Mercedes know that and don't expect anything from him in the first few races.)

So, I'm not a Russell fan (also not a hater, he's just not one of my favs), but I've been a Merc follower for a while now.

F1 is not only about markets and advertising, but it plays a huge part in it. Specially since Liberty took over. And the drivers today either win enough to be constantly on the up or they have a strong commercial appeal (in a ideal world you get both).

I, particularly, have noticed a different approach to media from Russell's team this year (it was due, honestly) and maybe I'm biased here, or haven't paid enough attention, but it is his third year in a Mercedes, and he's not as commercially appealing as he should be (kind not his fault to some extent).

I have a pretty wide access to Chinese and Japanese media (because of my work) and, again maybe I'm being biased, but even Alonso sells better than Russell in those markets. It's also nowhere near the likes of the Mclaren's, Honda powered drivers, Lewis, and Yuki/Zhou.

In the Americas, his position is slightly worse tbh. In the US, the Ferrari duo, Lewis and Checo are the main faces, and I really thought he'd have some sort of easier introduction in Latam with his first win being in Brasil, but he's just not there, (again, markets I have easy and wide access too)

Now, in Europe, I think that's where his biggest selling pool is. His image sells to the old-money/heritage type (and I have a personal view that that's like 1/4 of the reason it's so hard for him to sell in eastern/latam markets) but in Europe it hits the jackpot.

All this to say, I don't think Max is in contention to a seat so he gets to show how valuable he can be (commercially), because he's already a multiple wdc anyway, he's gonna sell regardless. Russell, we already have a somewhat decent outlook. Kimi's the one we have no idea of.

I also wouldn't take what Toto says to the media to heart. Like, at all. For a number of reasons but the main one being his loyalty is to his money. He is a business man, first and foremost.

Do I think Mercedes is actively planning to get rid of Russell atm? No, not in the near future. But for 2026 maybe. And not only because of driving, or season results alone, but because F1 and the teams need to sell, and George's image sells to a very specific demographic.

Now, as for leaving only on his own will. Anon, please it's F1. It's Mercedes. They forced Lewis, of all people, to leave. The guy who won 6 wdc and 8 wcc with them. And I hope Russell's camp is not as dense as Sainz's and their blind belief he was irreplaceable (because no one in that circus is).

But I do agree George probably has a good couple of almost garanteed seats should he leave Mercedes.

[f0point5]

pretty sure you’ve talked about this already so many times so if you don’t want to keep talking about it no worries!!

but this Logan/Kimi swap thing BAFFLES me. Yes, Logan should have improved more by now. I really feel for him because it’s clear that he’s trying to improve and just can’t figure it out for some reason. Plus the team’s bizarre switch from “we resigned Logan because we believe in him” to what appears from the outside to be a lack of support. But i agree he won’t be on the grid next year.

But at the same time it’s idiotic for the FIA to approve the dispensation because then the rules are essentially meaningless. It’s idiotic for Williams to take on an underprepared driver (because as talented as Kimi might be, there’s no way he’s adequately prepared for F1 right now) when part of Logan’s issues were due to being underprepared. If this kid gets eaten alive then merc will have thrown away so much potential. Genuinely I think there’s an incredibly high chance no one wins here. Maybe it all works out, but it seems like a hell of a risk just because you’re worried that he might sign elsewhere.

anyway excuse the rant lol just read the new chapter and so intrigued 👀 hoping lando comes thru for you this weekend <3

No I could go for DAYS.

I wouldn’t blame the team for replacing Logan mid season. It’s incredibly difficult to score points at the bottom and you need to be running two cars. Williams have been fighting one handed. Logan is just not cut out for this, that to me is clear. I am so curious why they resigned him, I guess because they didn’t have any other options from their academy, but the way they seem to have absolutely had enough of him is sad. To hear him on the radio calling himself a “dumb fuck” is horrible. It’s all hard to watch. It’s giving Red Bull.

I don’t understand the Kimi thing. They made this rule because they didn’t want any more children in F1. How would they just throw that out the window because someone asks? And not even for a kid who has a wealth of experience. He’s driven what? 18 months in actual cars? The FIA will out themselves as a complete joke if they say yes. I guess Williams will be saying “we will put him in the day he turns 18 if you say no so you may as well say yes it’s 4 months early”, but I think they have to stick to their guns and say not a day before the 18th birthday.

I don’t have an issue with him being in the car. Maybe he’s another Max, maybe he’s not. Regardless, I think if he is good enough, he will show something. And if he doesn’t, then he doesn’t, there will be others who come up through the feeder series who do. I don’t put a lot of stock in preparedness beyond physical fitness. Another few months of driving F2 where the cars are very slow, very different set up wise, and honestly where the racing is kinda just a free for all is probably not going to prepare him any better than he is now (considering how few F2 races there actually are as well). I think talent shines through. Logan might have done better with more prep but he probably never would have been Oscar. And yes Kimi is underprepared, but the best prep you can get is just to drive, so if Toto really is planning to put Kimi in the Merc seat, this is the smartest way to get around the rules about testing. Because that’s all it’ll be, is testing. He can sit in the Williams for half a season and get his bearings, go to Merc and get his bearings again in 2025, and by 2026 he would be an incredibly well prepared driver. IF that is how Toto decides to approach it, and not expect results from Kimi. I actually do see the merit in it. But only if it’s approached properly by everyone involved which with Toto you can’t guarantee. BUT the FIA throwing out the rule book would be insane.

I’m SO interested what on earth Toto has promised Vowles to get a Merc junior who will essentially be wasting a seat for Williams in the middle of a season. Granted he probably can’t be worse than Sargent but again, James will effectively just have Alex all year. Are Williams getting free engines?

Fundamentally I think the person who comes away with egg on their face here is James Vowles. Mr “you need to give a rookie three years and an arm around the shoulder” has absolutely exposed himself as TotoLite™️. As for Kimi, I can only hope he has a good team around him and that he has people who will come to the paddock and look out for him and not just let Toto run his career. Because I don’t think him being in F1 early is a guaranteed failure, but I think he will need a strong support network and someone looking out for his best interests.

I’m just shocked by this turn of events in all honesty

[charlescoded]

omg would you perhaps be willing to share some things (anything you want, i am so desperate) from your merc!charles au!!! i am so so SOOOOO interested in this concept :D

im always willing to share stuff if i can! okay so im intending for the story to start in silverstone 2024, which is basically the catalyst for the story. a single conversation with max, in which charles learns about a few veryyy important things, makes charles question himself and his future... this sets off a chain reaction that, combined with 2 events that happen during silverstone, makes charles decide to go to mercedes...

also an important difference for charles is that he didn't drive for sauber in 2018, he drove for haas. which then also means fred isn't currently the tp of ferrari, mattia still is :)

anyway, here's a rough little thing i wrote a few days ago:

-

He is selfish, he knows. He thinks about Arthur, about how he hadn’t been able to drive because of Charles. Ruthlessly, he had sacrificed his own brother’s future just so he could have a chance at F1. Years taken from Arthur’s career just so Charles could drive, it had been selfish, and maybe he had been better than him, had more potential, but he took it regardless.

If he was given that choice again, would he take it, not the choice to get to F1, but the chance to win?

Charles falters.

Ever since he was a kid, he had looked at the red cars drive around Monaco and dreamed of driving them too. To be like Schumacher, to have that love of his team, that devotion of his fans. That dream feels like a reality now, he’s at Ferrari, he can see the love that his colleagues have for him, can see the devotion of the fans at every track. Except…

He has not won a race since 2022, in Austria, Red Bull’s home race… 

[antisoucials]

i'm laughing my ass off at that 'anti-max' post with the visual gap between max and checo. like? excuse me? how is that an anti-max post? lmao, if anything it just emphasizes max's greatness and his inevitability as one of the greatest in the history of the sport. i don't get why these people get so pressed about it only when it comes to max. would they say the same thing had we stayed in the merc domination era? ferrari's? like. sorry but that's how sports -and specially f1- work. anyway, great job by the max nation once again. (reminds me of that one anti-lestappen charles-ships poll where lestappen won by a landslide lol).

i mean i only know that was an anti post bc op posted it to show how max’s domination is making the sport boring for them. but to us that visual is just proof of how exceptional his driving abilities are. i guess they were annoyed we hijacked their post but like this site is free real estate you can’t control who rb your posts. also id like to add that whilst lh cult is always spitting shit @us and @max we mostly stay in our lane. like you don’t see us actively hating on lewis or them. if anything we always direct our hatred @merc. and when it comes to domination eras, some of these people weren’t here for merc’s time and only really started watching in 2021. but like f1blr in 2019 was mostly seb fans hoping for a wdc title with ferrari and everyone here was sick and tired of the merc 1-2 every fucking race. back then you couldn’t find anyone enjoying the sport as it was. so i get how they might find max’s domination boring bc they never experienced anything else and it’s not their driver on that top step race after race. but there’s nothing you can do about it. just as there was nothing we could do about it when lewis was dominating. and to be fair merc dominated for almost a decade so i think they can handle a couple years of max winning bc it’s not guaranteed rbr we’ll be able to keep performing at this level in the next years. just let us enjoy it while it lasts

[pressradio]

Ferrari treats Charles like shit already. They use him as a 2nd driver, take unnecessary risks with him. It’s borderline disrespectful. Like when he can’t finish a race or the strategy is a clownery it’s Charles stats that take a hit too. And after that we get long ass posts about how he cannot turn a pole to a win when it’s in fact that he is so good he takes poles with a tractor, or that Ferrari screw him over during the race.

So yes even RB would be better right now. At least Perez fights up front, takes poles…

Of course I don’t think it will happen because Max could never live with that. Just seeing how he reacts to Checo wining one race when it’s clear Max is better than him anyway… It would be chaos. But also so much entertainment.

Even Russel has better chances rights now at Mercedes with that car. And the guy is not the number 1 driver either.

Right now the car is unreliable and et 2021 level of slowness. Except when Charles drives and we can have the 2nd to 3rd fastest car (I think we can fight AM, but will we still be able to when AM get their development going ?)

I want to have words with team Binotto. Scarifying years and years since 2020 to do that. And really F1-75, we need to stop with her she stopped performing as soon as we could not use yet another « trick » that was banned by regulations. So yes we don’t say thank you to Mercedes but also we can’t make a car work for more than 4 months and it’s been that way for too long.

I totally agree with you that they in this universe they won't allow them fight at all. But we can dream hahaha. Our small innocent dreams where Charles is treaten equally in a well-functioning team (ugly crying in the corner).

You know Merc fucked up themselves with the concept, was struggling, fucked up us. And now they are dealing better than us. And Toto stopped being stubborn and ready to change everything to be better.

But it's also our fault because history repeat itself. We had found some interesting decision in PU zone and were fucked by FIA. Then we found interesting decision in concept and were fucked up by Merc-FIA-lobby again. Is it unfair? It is. But maybe we should start to think ahead, because it's not acceptable at all despite all the circumstances.

P.S. I just compare how Toto and Binotto acted and hate Binotto again (even if Toto also kinda went through CLOWNification)

[worfianism]

Saudi Arabian GP 2023 thoughts

Uno what I'm so proud of lewis. He made those mediums LAST, he gained two positions, and he actually was it looked like keeping pace with those v old mediums even towards the end. George also did well like he did pick up the pace after that first bit with the hards once he was told he'd have to and they decided on the race strategy on his side of the garage and he had a great drive so I'm pleased with both the merc boys. Mercedes should have told lewis to push at the end though, if fernando was going to get a penalty at the end it was previously established (estie bestie in bahrain) that it would have been a 10 sec pen and lewis was in the end 10.2 seconds from nando so he absolutely should have been told to push.

An aside about the team orders drama which actually doesnt seem to have existed in the first place: george wasn't given team orders so he wasnt actually doing anything wrong because he did indeed pick up the pace once he was told he would have to and hes obviously pleased with the p3, lewis said George's p3 was amazing and he sounded better about his own performance than yesterday too so things seem relatively good on Lewis's side too, i also dont think the "nothing to do with me" comment is as shady as everyone seems to think coz it legit is nothing to do with him, like george got p3 on merit (and Fernando's bad luck) not because theres been much development on the car that lewis could have helped with so its not the same sort of team effort achievement that brazil was (not that im taking anything away from George's drive there either i just think it felt like a team win to everyone at merc including lewis) and like lewis is still his competitor so like I dont think it was so much a dig at george as it was just him being frustrated with his own race a little coz as well as he did he knows it could have gone better so I won't lie I'm still not that worried about Lewis and George's working relationship. I dont know if thats naive or not but like I'd rather not conjure up a fight that doesn't exist right now.

Yuki doing amazing today as well! Nearly got that point but he just missed out but he's made so much progress!

Poor Alex and lance :(((( safety car was odd af but fia shenanigans expected.

Oscar tho making his tyres last 49 laps and then doing a double overtake with them on lap 49???? I love that.

I feel like it'd be remiss to not mention max and Charles as well (not that I had any doubt that max would be on the podium today, hes obviously very talented but also the rb did cut through the field like butter and i will say i was disappointed we didnt actually get at least a nando max fight) but Charles was a pleasure to watch as he was climbing the field and its a shame that he wasn't really given a chance to get further ahead.

And well. Fernando losing his 100th podium after the fact is very fernando. And I think he was cursed inadvertently by one Monaco based YouTuber

Also im fond of checo so good win for him

Anyway another race done. Praying for improvement for the mercs.

[vvettell]

i think about it at least once a week anyway but now that brazil is next i keep thinking about brazil 21 and how much of a rollercoaster ride it was the narrative was SO rich that weekend it was better than any script anyone could have written

when after mexico it felt like max already had one hand on the trophy because the points gap was big enough that lewis would have had to win all the remaining races and first the freight is stuck in miami and arrives late so teams can't work as they usually would and the first rumours pop up of lewis taking yet another ICE and it feels desperate because why would they take yet another one but then quali happens and lewis gets pole by FOUR tenths which was one of the biggest gaps we had in quali all season and it's okay because he'd start the sprint from p1 but then the race from p6 and he did a mega lap

ONLY THEN after the session reports come out about the fia checking lewis's car forever and bam lewis gets disqualified because his rear wing flap opened only 0.02mm more than it should on one side and merc fight it immediately and video emerges of max touching lewis's rear wing in parc ferme after rb had been baffled by merc's straight line speed and newey met the fia about it but the stewards refuse to come to a decision that day and it feels like the championship is already over just hand the trophy to max while the merc admin is posting about lewis being the dj in the garage as if nothing's happening so saturday happens and merc lose the appeal and max gets fined 50k for touching another car in parc ferme

lewis starts the sprint dead last and has one of THE drives and gets 4 cars in the first lap alone and ends up p5 on the grid in a matter of 24 laps which sets a record for most overtakes in that amount of time and it kinda feels like you're watching something special like history being made like maybe..... but WAIT!!! he still has to take the engine penalty

so sunday comes around and lewis starts the race p10 and gets up to p2 after a small battle with checo and the car is so fast lewis is catching and catching and on lap 48 he tries to overtake max in turn 4 who doesn't even TRY to turn the car and punts him into argentina basically and the stewards don't even note it and wheatley is on the radio about how it's all about letting them race and hard racing while merc complains and masi tells them they've looked at it from all angles which turns out to be a bold faced lie after the race because they didn't have max's onboard and couldn't see his steering inputs at all and he's not referring it to the stewards and lewis puts his head down and sets it up and gets a beautiful move done 1 lap later the crowd goes absolutely wild and after the last two races in that triple header it feels like this championship is on again

he picks up a brazilian flag from a marshal in the cool down lap and drives the lap with it and brazilian commentary literally chokes up on live air and lewis stands on the podium with the brazilian flag around him and brazil celebrates him like he's their own and call him the boss and it was the most beautiful thing he came back from what was essentially a 25 place grid penalty and overtook every single car on the grid some of them even twice and still WON!!!!!

[lightsovermonaco]

Till Death Do Us Part: Chapter 12

Masterlist

This story would not be possible without @limp-wrist-max who inspired me to write this in the first place and @acollectionofficsandshit who helped me come up with the storyline and is the best beta a girl could ask for, thanks you two!

Word Count: 9.0k

"Learn how to drive, will you fuckface?"

"Tell that to yourself- ah! See, even that Williams is faster than you. Pick it up!"

Your laugh comes from between Pierre's spread knees. Out of the corner of his eye he sees you beam up at him, the book open on your lap momentarily forgotten. 

"You hush," Pierre says, focused on the split screen. You settle in with your back against the couch, feet tucked under you and your shoulder pressed to Pierre's knee. 

"Yes!" Charles jumps up, holding his controller triumphantly over his head. "P2 in a Ferrari. Beat that!"

"I hate this game," Pierre grumbles, crossing the like sixth in his AlphaTauri. He'd wanted the Mercedes, but you had laid eyes on the navy and white livery and fallen in love with it and as always, Pierre was unable to deny himself the chance to see you smile.

"Aw baby," you croon, reaching to pat his thigh, "you did just fine. Play again, it's fun to watch."

"Is it?" Pierre perks up, leaning over your shoulder to meet your eyes. You laugh, probably at the fact that he's currently upside down and looks like a fool, but whatever. "I'll buy you a sim setup if you wanna try it yourself. With a real wheel and pedals and stuff."

You shrug, "sure. I'll give it a try."

Pierre kisses your forehead and Charles mimics a gag. "Aren't you two the cutest couple on the face of the planet. Disgusting."

"So sorry that our happiness irks you so." Pierre grins up at his friend, who rolls his eyes that sparkle with flecks of gold. 

"Isn't it the winner that's supposed to get a kiss anyway?" Charles whines.

"I don't recall P2 being a win in the record books," you quip, attention rapt on your book. "Come talk to me when you're on the top step."

"That's enough of that." Pierre scowls at Charles, the gesture lacking the heat that floods through his chest.

"Oh stop it." You lean your head back, landing on the cushions so you can smile up at him. "You know I wouldn't."

Triumph comes in the form of Charles' cry of surprise when Pierre shoves him hard enough to throw him off balance. "Fuck you."

"Not after what happened last time," Charles points out, settling in to go another round on the playstation.

"Hey," you tug on his pant leg and Pierre's somber mood instantly dissolves. You crook a finger at him. "C'mere."

He leans down, face inches from yours. He studies the individual freckles and lines of your face, snagging on the slightly reddened lower lip tugged between your teeth. "Yeah?"

"If you win," you whisper, hand wandering over his inner thigh, "I'll give you a reward that's way better than a kiss."

"Can I get that in writing?" You grin and nod. "Text it to me so I have the evidence."

"Yes, baby. I will. Now pick the good car, not the pretty one."

"I call the Mercedes," Pierre promptly declares, ignoring Charles' squeaked protest and planting a kiss to your lips.

"You can pick the track, crybaby."

The weight of Charles' assessing stare is heavy on Pierre's neck. He ignores it, places the emotional price tag attached to such a gesture inside a chest and shoves it deep inside himself.

"Monza. Good luck, the Merc has shit downforce there."

Pierre enjoys the lazy shapes you draw on his calf while Charles goes through and adjusts the specific game settings. It strikes him then, how light he feels. Nothing dragging him down. Free as a bird, with you cuddled up at his feet and Charles playing a game. It almost feels… normal. Dangerously so.

The moment the virtual track appears on screen, Pierre forgets to be concerned about his happiness. He's focused entirely on the buttons beneath his thumbs, the five lights splashed across the top of the screen.

Pierre gets the jump off the line, like usual, and Charles swears under his breath. Pierre hangs on to the lead for a few laps, getting lost in the long straights and the tight chicanes thoroughly enough that your light poke to his leg startles him.

In the blink of an eye, Pierre goes from comfortably leading the race to staring at a crumpled red and white tire barrier. Charles laughs, passing the wreck in a blur of scarlet.

"I'm sorry," you say, "but your phone is going off. I don't know who it is, otherwise I'd answer it."

Pierre snatches the phone from you and immediately soothes the concern creasing your brow with a thumb.

"What do you want?" Pierre snaps, pissed that he'll have to hear about this from Charles forever.

"Oh I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

Pierre's blood goes cold. He hits a button on the remote, the tv screen going black.

"What the fuck-"

Pierre holds a finger to his lips and puts the phone on speaker before setting it on the coffee table.

"Long time no talk," Pierre purrs, slipping into the familiar embrace of his darkness. "What can I do for you, Ramos? Finally come to your senses and decided to fuck off to Peru?"

"Absolutely not, dear friend. In fact, this is something of a courtesy call. I know how fond you are of the people you employ. How you tend to think of them as family, for some unfathomable reason." 

You look frantically between Pierre and Charles. Fear, unchecked and raw, turns your eyes to pools of molten liquid, their usual starscape of beauty reduced to ashen spheres of panic. Pierre stuffs down the instinct to lock all the doors, draw iron curtains over the windows, and tuck you close to his chest.

"Oi, out with it," Charles spits, "cut the shit. What did you do?" Pierre's gratuitous look is answered with a curt nod. Pierre's mind is buzzing a mile a minute. Having Charles there to take the lead, however briefly, gives him time to process.

"Hello there, little traitor. I suppose I should've known you weren't who you said you were, what with the shit intel you fed me for months, despite being a self proclaimed expert."

Pierre interrupts, "If this is just a social call-"

"I forget how impatient you can be, Gasly. Fine. I'll forgo the pomp and circumstance. My condolences about your mechanic. Joe, I think his name was?"

Ice coats Pierre's tongue.

"Shame," Ramos continues, false pity dripping from his lie-stained lips. "Terrible to see him wind up like everyone else you've admired."

"You fucker-" you snatch the phone, hold it close to your teary face. "You fucker! If you hurt him, I'll- I'll-"

Pierre gently pries the droning phone from your hand and snaps it shut. "Charles, call Soren. Go with him to check up on Joe. See if this carries any weight."

"You're just gonna sit here?" You ask, rounding on Pierre. "He was my friend. Your employee. He had a family somewhere, people who cared about him! And you wanna check and see how bad it is before you do anything?"

"Yes," Pierre says softly, evenly. "Because I don't know if this is a trap. Until someone I trust confirms that something is wrong, I'll treat what Ramos said as a lie."

"He could be dying-"

"Which is why Charles is taking the Lamborghini, so he can get there as fast as possible."

Your lip trembles and a tear spills down your cheek. Pierre is numb to the pain of losing family. He's lost enough over the years that all Ramos' words do is stir a vengeful fire inside him. You haven't lost someone, not like this. 

He remembers what it feels like, how hard it hits, like a truck traveling at highway speed. It knocks your legs out from under you, turns your brain to jello, and fills you with an indescribable hurt, almost as if your nerves can't discern the difference between physical danger and emotional agony.

Pierre looks at Charles, silently commands him to go. Then slides to the floor, murmuring assurances as he wraps your trembling frame in his arms and forces you to lean on him. With a gentle hand Pierre coaxes your head onto his shoulder, letting you cry.

"He- he d-didn't do anything," you get out eventually. "Joe never hurt anyone. He was innocent."

Pierre bites his tongue. Joe's name is inked in the Blood Daggers ledger. Technically, he's anything but innocent. Guilty by association. Your point is valid, though. By no means does Joe deserve to suffer such a fate as to die young, with a family states away counting on the salary he sent home each month.

"We don't know anything has actually happened. This could just be a ploy to catch me off guard."

An olive branch of false hope. Pierre knows, as sure as he was about Anthoine and Jules, that Joe was dead. It was probably messy, drawn out and designed to be a scene so horrific it would imprint itself in his memory and haunt him forever.

"I hope so," you whisper, clinging tight to Pierre. "Joe's… Joe is good. Always so happy and kind and he's so thoughtful."

"Why don't you tell me some of the things he taught you?"

You drag your sleeve across your nose. "What?"

Pierre tucks a stray bit of hair behind your ear. Your red-rimmed eyes are a direct stab to his heart. "Tell me what he taught you. I know you used to spend a lot of Sundays out in the garage. So what did he teach you?"

"Um," you sniff, eyebrows drawing together as you fight to dredge up memories. Pierre's tactic works; your crying has staved off as gears spin in your head. Pierre lets you think, your thick wool sweater aggravating the soft skin of his inner wrist as he rubs your back.

"He taught me how turbos work." You sigh, letting your head rest on Pierre's shoulder. He draws a blanket over you and you continue, "and a supercharger. Those aren't as fun though."

"I don't have any supercharged cars," Pierre points out.

"Mick does. He's got a Mazda with a Hellcat engine in it." You grimace. "I dunno why you'd rip out the classic rotary and replace it with an American V8, but whatever I guess."

"You and your rotaries," Pierre murmurs. "You like those unreliable things, don't you?"

*********

"Well yeah. They sound good."

Pierre tended to avoid funerals. The pollen from various flowers made his throat itch and his eyes water. People tended to mistake that for crying and offer their condolences and in some cases attempt to hug him. Despising pity and a desire to avoid physical contact with strangers generally resulted in Pierre skipping funerals, no matter how much he cared for the person.

When you asked him to come to Joe's, though, he had to. So he dug out the black button down and black silk tie with the embroidered floral print and put it on. 

He buttons the cuffs at his wrists before thinking better of it and rolling up the sleeves to his elbows. Joe liked tattoos, though he had none himself. He sat down with Pierre after each new one the latter received and wanted to know the nitty gritty details about the design. Half the time Pierre hadn't had an answer to give beyond "I liked it at the time," but that was always enough for the older man.

Pierre sighs. Grief is a finicky thing. Where once he felt nothing, suddenly he feels a wash of hurt, like a bullet ripped through his chest. He'd never hear Joe's bellowing laugh or be able to seek out his comforting advice about trivial matters. Pierre was one step closer to being alone.

Pierre blocks out the sickly sweet smell of roses as he re-emerges into the sea of people dressed in black. The only splashes of color come from Joe's wife and daughter, dressed in bright floral prints. Pierre can barely bring himself to murmur his condolences to them. Their red rimmed eyes and hollow smiles serve as reminders that their loss is borne upon his shoulders, a burden he will never be free of.

"Anything you need, just ask," Pierre tells his widow, squeezing her hand. "There's a Swiss account in your name that should be more than enough to set the two of you up somewhere far away from here. Soren said he gave you all the details. If there's anything you two need to be comfortable, anything at all, I want you to let me know, alright?"

The woman nods, lower lip trembling. "He thought of you as a son," she says quietly, accent thick and distorting the words. "He spoke very highly of you. Thank you for that."

Pierre nods, throat closing up. He turns to you, silently asking you to take him elsewhere. You're hurting worse than he is but you manage to find a semi secluded corner from which the two of you can observe as Joe's family read stories and offer prayers over his closed casket. Closed, because Ramos hadn't been kind to the man in his final moments. 

The aftermath of the service is no better. The car ride home is silent, you staring out the window while Pierre takes the curves slow.

Your morose mood drags him down with it. He ushers you upstairs to your shared room, dropping a kiss to your head before promising to come back in a couple hours. You simply nod and crawl under the covers, tv tuned to some mindless show that you don't have to dedicate any brainpower to.

Pierre's cadre waits for him in the larger of his offices. This one is intended to be the pharaoh's false tomb, its purpose to throw off any would-be adversaries into thinking they've uncovered his precious treasures.

Lavishly decorated in jewel tones of ruby and gold, the office is ten times as extravagant as the one hidden behind the freezer. It radiates wealth, from the expensive liquors held in crystal decanters lining a mirrored wall to the scent of Italian leather that permeates the air. His feet sink an inch into the Persian carpet, large enough to protect the original wood floor from the weight of the clawfoot oak table that serves as a conference center.

Nix and Soren, both dressed in sharp black suits, quietly debate the most effective way to pinpoint the location of Ramos' estate. Charles observes from his spot along the wall, brooding over the proceedings. So really, a regular day aside from the cloud that hangs over everyone's heads.

Pierre pulls up a chair, spins it around and sits on it backwards. "Fill me in."

Nix slides the blunt side of a knife over the pad of her thumb, repeats the plan they've come up with in the last half hour.

"There's at least three safe houses that we know of where he stores his product. Now, my thoughts are that we accidentally drop a cigarette in a puddle of gasoline that's accidentally been leaking on the sidewalk from the bike that's accidentally parked illegally. I've got a guy that swears up and down he can get it done with no ties to us. He doesn't even need to see a face, just wants the money. I can get him cash so there's absolutely no trail."

Pierre surveys the map of his city. Truth be told, he was ready to be done. Three counts of arson might be a bit extreme, but when dealing with a lunatic...

"You're positive this guy can be trusted?"

"Absolutely. I wouldn't suggest it otherwise."

Pierre chews on his thumbnail. He thrusts the three people in this room with his life. Their judgements are as good as fundamental truths. Jules had always led with his heart, not with his head- which turned out to be his fatal flaw. Balancing the inputs from both was the key; by now, Pierre had perfected it.

"Minimize casualties. But get it done." 

Nix's ponytail swings as she looks at each of them in turn. "So we all agree, then? We take him out at the knees, cripple his distribution, and then cut off the head."

Soren nods solemnly. "It's too merciful if you ask me, but yeah."

Charles holds up two fingers, "question. Is this supposed to be our retaliation for Ramos killing, effectively, a member of your family? Because I think it'll just piss him off more. I don't see how this is more than a papercut to him."

"It's the first step. We've got more planned, but we don't have time to enact it all at once. We still have threads to pull, people to interrogate." Soren shrugs, his folded arms accentuating his broad chest. "Scrambling his supply chain is the first of many dominos that must fall, little one."

Charles wisely keeps his damned mouth shut and doesn't rise to the taunt. Pierre gives him the space of a few heartbeats to assert any further qualms with their plan.

Pierre then turns to Nix, "You've gone awfully quiet. Regretting your suggestion already?"

Nix shakes herself like she's trying to rid herself of a bad dream. "Nothing more to add, boss. I can get out tonight and kick some rocks, stir up some dissent in the Wolf Suns so Ramos might think twice about us being the source. I've got an idea of where his sister might be, too."

"I want you following that lead," Pierre says, smoothing a wrinkle from his black tie. "And I want-"

All eyes lock on the store room door as it creaks open. You poke your head in, bleary eyed. Fresh tears stain your reddened cheeks.

Pierre's heart sinks to his feet. He's soft, so incredibly, vulnerably soft for you. He wants nothing more than to smash his fist into Ramos's face for making you hurt like this. But he can't, not when that damned man is slipperier than a fucking fish. 

"Hey," Pierre says quietly, cautiously, like speaking in a normal tone might spook you into turning tail. "C'mere."

Your bare feet move soundlessly as you shuffle into his waiting arms. His fingertips catch in the black lace of your dress as he rubs a soothing hand over your back.

"I miss him," you murmur, pulling away far enough to stare at the picture crumpled in your fist. One Pierre had actually managed to take last year of Joe laughing his ass off and you standing inside the vacant engine bay of the NSX. Wires and hoses hang loose about your legs, but your face made the whole scene that much better. You grip an imaginary wheel, face set in determination as you fly around a corner in your mind. Pierre had walked out at just the right time and known he had to capture the moment.

"It's been a long day."

Pierre glances up at Charles, surprised that the Monegasque spoke at all. Never one for comforting words, he preferred to stay silent when others were going through a crisis. Silent, or just fucking leave and abandon the other to their own devices.

Pierre fixes Charles with a threatening glare when he tries to approach, years worth of pent up emotion bubbling to the surface. You are Pierre's to protect and soothe, not Charles'. 

Charles purses his lips, stuffs his hands in his pockets and retreats to the opposite wall. Pierre tucks you a little closer. He expected push back, for Charles to insist. The old Charles would have. Backing down without a fight was unheard of when it came to Charles getting what he wanted.

Maybe he was finally learning when to let go. Maybe he had learned to prioritize, to pick his battles. Maybe having him around wouldn't be as much of a headache as Pierre expected it to be, if he was now falling into line.

"I'm gonna meet Mariah downtown," you mumble, breath warming Pierre's chest. "She's gonna show me this new lunch spot she found."

Alarms blare in his head, flashing red lights and all. Letting you out of his sight is the opposite of what he wants right now. His flank is exposed, his core team hunkered down at the estate, with little to no field support in the city should something go wrong.

Pierre knows that he can't say no, either. Not when you're already so drained. And Mariah is a smart girl; the likelihood of her dragging you into a dangerous situation is slim to none. 

Pierre waves a hand at Nix who immediately resumes the previous conversation, occupying the two others in the room and granting you some semblance of privacy. Against his better judgement, he forces his lips to move, "You want me to come with you?"

You shake your head. "I probably won't get out of the car anyway. It's just something to get me out of the house."

Pierre drops a kiss to the top of your head, glad for that slight reassurance. "Alright. Take the Type R so I can have some peace of mind at least."

"Okay." You move like a ghost, slipping out of Pierre's embrace and padding silently out the door. You're a shadow of yourself. Pierre would do anything to make it right, up to and including letting you go off on your own for a few hours. If you needed space, he'd give it.

He doesn't realize the quiet that settles over the room until Nix breaches it. "You want me to go after her, right?"

Pierre shakes his head. "Honestly Nix, I'd rather have you on surveillance. I don't expect her to be gone long. Most likely she'll cancel on her friend and go for a drive through the twisties." It's what he would do. A long, hard drive sounds appealing after the week he's had. That, followed by a few shots of whiskey when he returned home before falling into a sleep so deep and lengthy it might be mistaken for a coma.

"I can at least tail her on my way to the club," says Nix, crossing her arms. "She shouldn't be completely alone."

Nix's insistence is the straw that breaks the camel's back. All the stress comes to a head and the bubble bursts without warning, flooding Pierre with an unrelenting wave of frustration.

Pierre throws up his hands. "Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want. I'm just the boss, right? My orders should always be taken with a grain of salt."

Her blue eyes harden to chips of ice. "That's not at all what I meant."

"Fuck off, Nix. Do what you want but don't come back empty handed."

The knife in Nix's hand suddenly finds itself buried in the wall not an inch from Pierre's head. No one dares breathe. Pierre doesn't look up from the papers splayed across the table.

"I didn't realize my second had the temper of a child." A drop of scarlet blood splashes to the page, leaking from the shell of his ear.

"We're all hurt, Pierre," Nix starts, something akin to hatred in her voice. "That doesn't give you the right to be an ass." Her raven curls bob in the edge of his vision. The door slams hard enough to rattle the glasses behind the bar.

Soren sucks in a breath. "I'll take that as my cue to get the fuck out. I'll fill the rest of the club in on what's happened and make sure they're keeping an eye out."

Pierre dismisses his third with a grunt and a flick of his hand. He blinks away his blurring vision in favor of pouring himself a tall glass of whatever alcohol the closest bottle contains. He downs the contents in one swallow and slams the glass to the bartop.

Charles' hand rests between Pierre's shoulder blades. Throat burning, Pierre meets Charles' gaze in the mirror. He hates this part. He'll say that Pierre's being fucking stupid. Pierre will defend himself, probably piss Charles off in the process. No one will go to sleep happy.

Charles' thumb traces a path along his spine, simultaneously hot and cold. "You might’ve been a little harsh, calamar. I get that you can't be soft around them, but you can let them see that you're human."

Human is not how Pierre chooses to describe himself. He had extricated his basest human elements years ago with surgical precision, leaving behind only what was absolutely necessary to survive. Things like compassion and vulnerability served no purpose to him when he was building an empire. 

It's taken a concentrated effort on his end to relearn those things for your sake. When it came to business though, he still operated the same. Switched off that part of his brain that he might, on a good day, describe as something humanlike and become someone entirely different.

"If you let people in, let me in, I might be able to help."

"No." Pierre shrugs off Charles' touch and rounds on him. "Because if I do, who fucking knows what they might try to take from me? I trust them, I let them in my home, give them the means to live a lavish life- and in the end it always comes back to bite me in the ass."

"How exactly does that relate to anything I said?"

"I don't know, okay? I just- I can't-" Pierre's frustration personifies itself as a disgruntled, strangled sound, followed closely by the glass in his hand being hurtled at the opposite wall. The crystal shatters, the thick base leaving a hefty dent in the drywall. Shards litter the ground like some sort of fucked up reflection of the chandelier hanging above. 

Charles wraps an arm around Pierre's waist. With the weight of the day bearing down on him, forcing him face first into the dirt, the fight is sapped out of him. Pierre leans into it, letting Charles engulf him in a hug. The other man leeches the overbearing warmth from Pierre's bones, calming his boiling blood.

If he closes his eyes, he can pretend nothing changed. He can skip over the years of pain and longing and cement himself firmly in the present. Charles' lips graze his neck and Pierre sighs heavy through his nose.

"At least your shitty blond dye job isn't for nothing," Charles mumbles. "Those people that you consider assets? Pretty sure they're not going anywhere. And I don't think any of them would ever dream of betraying you."

Pierre fingers the coarse strands of his hair. He'd dyed it a month or so ago, just some off the shelf kit from the corner store, because you'd wanted to see what it would look like. He thought it tolerable, but you downright loved it. You couldn't keep your hands off him the first couple of days, and each time he put the slightest effort into styling it even weeks later, you'd drag him off to a dark corner the first chance you got.

Once this color grew out, he'd get it professionally lightened just to see the surprise on your face when you saw.

After one last wistful moment, Pierre peels off Charles' arms. "You said as much once." Pierre stoops down to carefully collect the shattered glass. "And then you did. Betray me."

Charles sets a trash can at Pierre's side. "Yeah, I did. And I've spent the past month groveling at your feet to make up for it."

Pierre dumps the shards in the can and wipes a bead of blood on his pants. "Fine, you win." His knees pop as he stands like an arthritic old man. "Call them both and tell them to get their asses back here so we can figure out what angle to cripple Ramos from."

Charles' grin splits his face. He reaches up to ruffle Pierre's hair, "that's the spirit. A little carnage never hurt anyone."

**********

Sometimes caller ID is unnecessary. Like now, when Pierre's phone rings and three of the four people alive that he cares for stand in a half circle around him. He answers automatically, because there's only one possibility as to who is on the other end.

"How was your afternoon with Mariah?"

"I'm being followed."

Pierre goes rigid. A single glance about the space has him categorizing the usefulness of all potential weapons, ranking their effectiveness in a fight should he have to grab and go. The handgun hidden in the false bottom top right cabinet drawer is the most obvious choice. 

He shoves the phone between his shoulder and ear. "Where are you." the words ring flat, all eyes on him as he shoves the pistol in the small of his back. "Where, baby? Talk to me."

"Um, somewhere in the east part of the city? I might be lost."

His head is spinning. He can't think, can't come up with a single coherent thought outside of 'find her. Bring her home. Cut down anyone who gets in my way.' His temper reaches its flashpoint, burning so hot that merely acknowledging the white-blue flame singes the hair on his arms.

Now, Pierre mouths to Soren, signaling with a twirl of his wrist for him to gear up. Charles silently follows Soren, grabbing whatever weapons he can find.

"I'll take the bike," Charles murmurs, barely loud enough for Pierre to catch.

"That's fine." The words are spoken to you, but intended for Charles too.  In truth, Charles might have said ‘I’ve grown cat ears and a hot pink tail’ and Pierre wouldn’t have known the difference. "Tell me what you see."

"I see, uh... the bridge? I think- only part of it though.” The rumble of your exhaust is audible through the phone. Pierre counts the gear shifts, trying to determine your speed. "I'm in the city but I got turned around, I was trying to get to the Paragon but I fucked up."

Pierre's worst fear is unfolding. He forces himself into a false calm, disguises the fear as a target to be annihilated. If he lets one bit of concern paint his words, one hint of unease coat his tongue, you'd latch on to it and lose it. His one and only goal is to bring you home safe and in one piece.

Covering the phone, Pierre tells Nix, "I want their heads on fucking platters. Bring the Widower."

Nix licks her lips, pushes up her sleeves. She throws her shoulder against a hidden panel in the wall, a rack of glossy, long-barreled rifles rolling on silent casters. She selects the longest of the bunch, her favorite- the one she had multiples of hidden in attics and beneath floorboards in every hideout in the city.

"Pierre?"

"Amour, what street? Give me a street. Help me find you."

Your adrenaline manifests in the form of word vomit, "I went in a circle like you taught me, four right turns, and they're still there. I’m trying not to act suspicious but I don’t know if it’s working. I was on my way home and I noticed them-"

"Okay baby. That was really smart but don't do it again or they'll know you're onto them and it could go bad fast." Pierre picks his suit coat off the coat rack, double checking that it’s the one with the sewn in kevlar. It wouldn’t stop a rifle round, but it’s intended to be a last line of defense.

And for what he has planned, the havoc he intends to wreak on that godforsaken stretch of faded highway, he'd take what he could get.

Soren tails Pierre to the garage, his shoulder length hair tied back so as to not get in his way. "Open the console in the middle, my love. Smack it hard with your palm and the bottom should pop out."

Regardless of where you are, if Pierre pushes the limit he can reach you in under an hour. If you continue to move towards him, that further reduces the time.

Pierre points Soren and Nix to the matte gray Lamborghini collecting dust at the far end of the garage. The overhead door behind it is wide open. A midnight black motorcycle idles outside, its rider clad in a dark jacket and a helmet with a tinted visor.

A humble army of three formed at Pierre’s behest. The two men and one woman under his command ready and willing to give their lives for you, to sacrifice themselves to ensure you make it home.

Your muttered curse brings him back to himself. "I've got it. It's heavier than I'm used to but I can use it if I have to."

"Keep driving, okay? Don't stop. It's heavier because it's fully loaded, not half like I usually have you use at the range. We're coming, baby. Can you make it back to the bridge?"

Maybe it's the fact that you know Pierre is on his way, or maybe your initial shock has worn off, but there's an edge to your reply, "yeah. I'm about to cross it. Should I just keep heading home?"

Pierre starts the blood red NSX and tosses his phone to the passenger seat once the Bluetooth connects. "I’m coming. Keep heading home."

Home, towards Pierre, closer to where he can protect you, further from the man who seeks to ensnare you. Fire burns his lungs, exhaling steam and smoke with each breath. 

"Don't stop for any lights or take any turns off the main highway. Try to stay close to other cars if you can. I don’t think they’ll try anything with witnesses but you use that gun if you need to, understand?" Two sets of headlights shine in his mirrors, one bobbing and weaving down the drive while the other remains stoically straight. 

The unmistakable sound of a slide being racked on the other end of the line grants him the slightest reprieve. "I understand. I'm assuming there's more clips?"

"Two mounted under your seat, just in case." Pierre hadn't told you. He pulled an all nighter when you brought the Type R home, outfitting it with a hidden arsenal should you ever find yourself in a situation such as this. Call it paranoia, but he was glad he opted to be safe rather than sorry.

"You thought of everything, didn't you?"

Pierre rows through the gears, each shift mechanically smooth. Yes, he had thought of everything. He refused to let you succumb to the same curse as everything else he loved.

His heart urges him faster. Encourages him to hang the back end of the car out an inch further around the bends. Calculates how to shave off tenths of a second and close the gap between its soul mate in as little time as possible. 

"So, what? Ten minutes until we meet in the middle?"

A flame twin to his own licks along your voice, each word a red hot nail driven into Ramos' casket. Now that you know you're not alone, you're capable of tearing down a legion. This is why he loves you- your heart is fit for a giant but you don't let anything scare you. 

"Something like that. Stay on the phone. Tell me what the car looks like." You're the only thing keeping him on the ground. If you stop talking, his vision will go black and he'll lose himself in it.

"There might be two. Now that there's less traffic I've noticed two. One is a black Mercedes, I think? Based on the headlights, yeah, Mercedes. And the other is too far back for me to tell but it's blue. Like a dark blue, close to the sapphire you bought me on our anniversary."

A distinct pair then, one that he didn't have to worry about mistaking for regular traffic. You as good as paint a target on their backs with that description, simple as it is. "How fast are you going?"

"Just a couple over the speed limit."

Pierre does the mental math. His nostrils flare and he tightens his grip on the wheel. You’re farther than he’d expected, travelling slower than anticipated. But fine, it'll work. "You know that little overlook I took you to a while ago to watch the sunrise?"

"Of course. You fucked up dinner the night before and that was your apology for the burnt steaks." 

He hums in agreement. Pierre's heart seems dead set on fighting its way out of his ribcage. "That's where I'll meet you. You should reach it in fifteen or so minutes. How far behind you are they?"

"Mmm," you start, calculating the distance. "Fifteen or so car lengths."

"Good. Once you see me, you do not stop. You keep moving. I'll take care of them."

"Yeah, I can do that." 

The very idea of someone having the balls to follow you, probably with the intent of hurting you, pushes his head under a raging red sea. Now that it's unfolding before his eyes, he's drowning in it. Vision tinted a watery crimson by more than just the taillights of each car he passes, inching the pedal to the floor. Engine screaming like it knows a single second could be the difference between life and death, between relief and fatal error.

Pierre nearly misses the turn out. Slamming on his brakes at the last second, he leads his ramshackle army onto his chosen battleground.

"Sweetheart," Pierre starts, finger hovering over the engine off button, "I've gotta go now. Are you okay? How far are you?"

"A couple minutes. Be careful, baby. Come home to me in one piece."

Pierre smiles to himself. "Have I ever not?"

"No. Don't change that now. I'll see you at home."

He pours the last drops of his soul into his next words, "Je t'aime."

The phone call ends when he cuts the engine. A heavy thunk on his roof seconds later nearly makes him jump.

A small, brown palm smacks the tinted glass beside his head. "I'm set."

Pierre climbs out but doesn't shut the door. Considering that its lead lined, it'll offer more protection than the lining of his suit coat. Pierre lays a hand on Nix's shoulder, careful not to disturb her as she adjusts the dials on the scope of her rifle.

Soren parked the Lamborghini at an angle, providing a further barrier between the NSX and the threat quickly barreling towards them. The visor on Charles' helmet is flipped up and he's trading tactics with Soren, the details of which Pierre can't hear over the buzzing in his ears.

Headlights dip over the horizon and Pierre goes rigid. His knee hits the dirt, pistol drawn, finger hovering over the trigger… just for a mini van to pass.

Pierre swears. Combined with the humidity, the hand he drags through his hair leaves the blond strands sticking up in all directions. Heart racing, he begins to pace. Dust coats the hem of his black pants, sneaks into the crevices of his Italian leather shoes.

More headlights crest over the watery dark and Pierre pauses. Three sets, one a fair distance ahead of the others.

"How many you want left standing, boss?" Nix asks, concentration split between tracking her quarry in her scope and heeding upcoming his order.

Pierre’s skin is drawn tight over his bones. His finger hovers over the trigger of the pistol tapping his thigh. He tastes metal on his tongue, becomes aware of the lightning in his veins. 

He welcomes the familiar beast stirring within him. It scents the adrenaline, recognizes the markings of the impending battle and the bodies it promises to produce. It greedily inhales the scraps of fear Pierre feeds it, lifts it's spotted maw and roars.

It demands blood. Pierre intends to feed it until it's drunk on it.

"I only need one."

"Oh, let the fun begin." The smile is evident in Nix's voice. Charles has ripped off his helmet and joined Pierre behind the shield of the NSX's door, gun drawn.

"Take them."

A baby blue blob rounds the corner. One, two, downshifts and the exhaust of your Type R sings, your driving kicking into overdrive once you spot your family camped out. The last bit of adrenaline in his blood demands repentance as two cars, one navy and one night black, round the curve seconds later.

**********

Dirty work is usually best left to his lackeys. Personal matters though, Pierre deals with himself. Which is how he finds himself sweating in a six foot hole in the middle of an orange desert beneath a half full moon.

When faced with death, most men beg for a few extra seconds. They barter with whatever measly earthly possessions they have, some going as far as offering their families in exchange for a chance to escape. 

"Mate."

Pierre frowns up at Soren. He crouches at the edge of the grave, the moonlight at his back making it impossible to discern his expression. "What?"

"Go home. She's called me asking where you are, since you didn't have the smarts to charge your phone."

"Did she sound worried?"

"She'll be fine, mate. You aren't gonna leave before the job's done, are you?" Charles jumps down to join Pierre, hopping when he lands and crashing into Pierre's sweat-stained back. "I'll help you dig."

Pierre is far too tired to follow through on the urge to punch Charles. He glances between his friend and his third, waiting for an answer. Soren shifts on his feet to say, "I think you should go home. Don't kill me for saying that."

"Finish what you've started." Charles' murmur sounds half like a warning. Like if Pierre doesn't stay, doesn't see this bit through, it'll change… something.

"No. I should've gone home right away." Pierre hands his shovel to Charles, who's face sours.

"Run home to mommy." Pierre grips Soren's hand and hauls himself up. "You're just giving Ramos the satisfaction of knowing that he's rattled you. He's smarter than you think, he'll know you went home to her as soon as you got the chance!"

Pierre whirls on Charles. The man scowls right back at him, the challenge clear in his green eyes. Cruel as it is to string Charles along, to not sit down with him and stomp out his hope that Pierre might still harbor romantic thoughts for him, Pierre needs this anger. He needs Charles to stay fiery. More than once his uncorked anger coupled with his ability to charm the pants off a nun has gotten them out of sticky situations.

But fuck if Pierre isn't inclined to jump back in that grave and throttle Charles until his mouth is incapable of fouling your name any further.

"You've got issues man." Pierre is immensely grateful for Soren at that moment, because his comment saves him from doing just that. "Go home," Soren says. "I'll keep an eye on dipshit."

Charles spits at his feet. "Fuck you, Soren."

"If his attitude doesn't improve, leave his ass here. He can walk home, through miles of empty desert." Pierre scowls at Charles, who returns the look with equal animosity. Their battle is silent, one of wills instead of blades.

In the end, Pierre wins. Charles looks away first. 

Pierre keeps the radio off on his drive home. Charles flip flopping between supporting his decisions about the club and bashing his choices about you was beginning to wear him thin. He was damn near ready to give in to Charles, to let him take over his life, if only for five minutes of peace.

Why hadn't Pierre run to you the second it was clear Nix and Soren had the situation under control? Because Charles had insisted he stay. 

Pierre parks out front in his usual spot. He slips his ring back on his pinky finger. Movement on the porch catches his eye. Instinct has him reaching for a gun before he realizes it's you.

Keeping his movements slow, he crouches in front of you. Your head rests in one palm, your phone clutched in the other. 

Pierre's fingertips alight under your jaw, exerting slight pressure until you tip your head up. "Ma cherie." The endearment stirs nothing in you. Your eyes are semi vacant, like your consciousness is far removed from your body. His thumb brushes along your cheek, running through the scenarios of how this might go.

The best conclusion seems to be to simply coax you to your feet. "Are you hurt?" He asks softly, holding you at arms length to examine you for any sort of physical distress. The dress you're wearing isn't one he recognizes, but that's neither here nor there. First and foremost he needs to know if you're harmed because if you are… "hell breaking loose" wouldn't begin to cover it.

You shake your head. "'M okay."

Pierre wraps you in a gentle hug and presses his lips to your temple. His heart's rapid rhythm begins to calm. His eyes slide shut and he breathes you in, granting himself a minute to remember how to speak.

The first words he's capable of muttering are an apology. You don't say anything, just stand there clutching his shirt, your hot cheek pressed to his chest. Pierre holds you like you're made of glass, like if he puts too much pressure on one area you'll crack.

"I don't know how they found me so quickly." Your chin digs into his sternum when you look up at him. "They were on me the second I was in the city. Like they knew I'd be there."

Coincidences don't exist in the world of organized crime. Pierre accepted that fact a few months into his rise.

"Where did you get that dress." The question comes out flatter than he intended. 

"You left it for me. It was in a box on our bed when I went upstairs-"

"Baby, I didn't buy that."

"Yes you did." 

Pierre shakes his head.

"Then…" Your brows come together for a split second before realization washes over you. "Oh, fuck."

"Off. Right now." Pierre nearly rips the buttons from his shirt in his rush to get it off. He tosses it around your shoulders and covers your front while you shimmy out of the dress. You hand it to him and he immediately turns it inside out.

"Fucking hell," he breathes, wiggling a small metal device from in-between the folds of the tag. He holds it up to the light, mouth going dry.

Ramos had upped his game. Who knew what this little device had picked up on. He had to assume it had a microphone, probably not a camera though- he damn near crushes the thing at the thought.

Pierre needed to start thinking like the enemy. It was time for him to abandon the rulebook and start playing dirty. Nothing was off limits. Nothing too sacred. Pierre would rip Ramos down to his foundations and wipe out anything that remained.

Pierre crumples the fabric into a wrinkled ball. "I'm fucking burning this."

"I'll light the fucking match." 

Pierre's eyes soften when he notices the hard set of your shoulders. He grabs your wrist and tugs you to his chest. The cool desert night has you shaking like a leaf, dressed as you are now in nothing but his shirt.

"Come inside with me," he says quietly, taking your hand. Clutching your borrowed shirt at your throat you let him lead you inside. "Have you seen Mick?"

"Oh, that blond kid?" You jerk your chin towards the dining room, where a few guys sit and hash out some sort of game plan. Based on the presence of Sebastian, Pierre's head of security now that Soren had officially been promoted to third, he guessed he was giving them all a well deserved verbal lashing. 

Too much shit continued to slip through the cracks for it to go unpunished.

Pierre calls for the young German boy and his head snaps up. Sebastian dismisses him with a waved hand and launches right back into his speech. Mick, eager as ever, jogs over and dutifully ignores your half-dressed frame. 

"What can I do for you sir?"

"Take this to Soren at the Paragon." Pierre drops the bug in the boy's outstretched palm. "I want to know who made it."

Mick tucks the device in the interior pocket of his suit coat. "Yes sir, I will-"

"Where were you this afternoon, Mick?" Your voice rings through the entry, clinical and cold. Pierre purses his lips but doesn't say anything. 

Mick keeps his chin held high and looks you in the eye as he speaks, "Off duty, ma'am."

"Right. But where were you?"

"Playing cards with some friends at the Paragon. Esteban should be able to confirm that for you. He just about cleaned out my pockets by the time I had to leave. I only got here an hour ago, found everything in chaos."

A relieved smile tugs at your lips. "Thank you, Mick." You pat his cheek and Pierre swears a hint of pink rises on the boy's cheeks. "I like you. I'm glad you've been untouched by all this mess so far. Keep it that way, please."

"Yes ma'am." Mick nods to Pierre and heads for the garage.

Pierre glances sideways at you. The pace you set up the stairs is unhurried, like you could care less that Ramos' dogs nipped at your feet mere hours ago.

"Do I need to be worried about how well you're taking all this?"

Inside the sanctity of your shared room, you shed Pierre's shirt and leave it in a puddle by the door. "No. I'm fine."

"Are you?" Pierre comes up behind you. He sweeps your hair up, exposing your shoulder so he can drop kisses to your skin. He can't stand to not be touching you for more than a few seconds, lest this reality prove to be false. He's still on edge, gut roiling at how close he was to something disastrous happening. 

You, on the other hand, seem practically unaffected. Like tonight's events were just another average night in the Gasly household, funeral, attempted kidnapping and all.

"Yes, I am. I'm used to it by now."

"Used to what?" You step out of Pierre's reach and Pierre follows you dutifully to the bathroom, where you draw a bath.

"All of this." You flourish a hand to encompass the room, like that explains it. When Pierre quirks a brow, you sigh, "the threats, Pierre. The constant looking over my shoulder to check for a tail. Talking in hushed tones, questioning people I'm supposed to be able to trust blindly. It's all become commonplace for me in the past few months."

Pierre wishes he could read your mind. He'd give anything for a glimpse in your head right now, to witness first hand what you're feeling, so that he can be utterly sure that you're truly as nonplussed by almost being kidnapped as you outwardly seem to be. Because what sane person lets themselves become accustomed to that? He was, sure, but no one on this planet would classify him as mentally stable.

Pierre shakes his head and states the only logical conclusion, "You're in shock."

"I'm not," you snap, rounding on him. "I'm fucking used to it, Pierre. I am. You try to protect me from it but do you really think I don't know? This is my house, my castle, as much as it is yours and I know everything that goes on under this roof. I know how many of Ramos' dealers you've caught and killed and how little it affected him. I know Niall's been sitting over in Belfast waiting on payment for his last shipment for a month and a half, because you've been chasing Ramos' breadcrumb trail.

"But what I don't understand," you continue, wagging a finger in his face as angry tears glass your eyes, "is why you won't just give that bastard what he wants. We're stuck in this loop because you killed his fucking kingpin or whatever- what could he want? Money? Drugs? Territory? Why can't you just give it to him?"

Pierre did know what Ramos wanted. He'd laid it out in plain terms. It wasn't a price he had been willing to pay then, and it sure as fuck isn't a price he's willing to pay now.

"I can't give him what he wants," Pierre says, borderline pleading with you.

"I'm sick of it. I don't want to live like this, Pierre. I'm fine with the way it was before, when you were the king and you were untouchable. The Daggers were on top of the food chain, eating other clubs for a midmorning snack. But now? Never knowing if today's the last time I'll see you? I fucking hate it."

A single tear slips down your cheek at the same time the bath overfills. Water spills over the tiles. Pierre lets it flow, reaching for you. You fight him, pummeling his chest with well-placed blows but he takes it, folds you to him until your hands fall to your sides and you let out a sob.

He stands long enough that water soaks his shoes and wicks up his socks but he doesn't dare let go.

"I'm so sick of crying." You paw at your eyes, smudging the artfully applied mascara.

That's all it takes for Pierre's resolve to crumble to dust. You're the one thing he's sworn his life to protect. He'd give up everything to keep you safe, sheltered, and happy.

"I'll end it. I'll give him what he wants."

You reach behind you to shut the tap. "How long until it's over?"

"As long as it takes me to get everything in order."

"Give me a timeline."

"A month then. It'll be over in a month." 

You nod against his chest. "I wanna move up our wedding to then. It'll give us something good to start a new chapter with, once all this shit is behind us."

He'd fucked himself there. But there's no way he can spin it to buy himself more time with you so he agrees.

“One month and I’ll say ‘I do.’”

God help him if he went back on his word.

@justbeingoceana​  @teenwaywardasgardian​ @ladyperceval​ @empress-ofbloodshed @limp-wrist-max @clarreee @mycharminglxve @fangirlin-like-a-hoe @pxtroclus @alexalboo @ffreya @lmaodontyoudare @cappot @midnightcrumbs​ @furiouscaseofastudent @1-800-away-we-go @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @badoopwoop @its-astrotea-love @ggaslyp1 @elle4404 @avsensio​ @kovalcin​ @thisisaworkinprogress​ @inconspicuousindo​​​​

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

[fcb-mv33]

Okay SO!! Here on my favorite Max moments from each race..please feel free to add🧡🧡

Bahrain- The Q3 lap…like Max did three fucking purple sectors…on his last flying lap like 2 purple sectors is amazing but 3?? Sexy as fuck.

Imola- That whole race…Max’s overtaking on the first lap was amazing!! And Max’s out-lap in the first pitstop to stop the undercut was beautiful!!

Portugal- Not a vibe really but Max’s overtake on Hamilton in lap 7 like he just goes all fucking in I loved it and overtaking Bottas!!! Once again the mans overtaking was phenomenal.

Barcelona- FIRST LAP FULL SEND AGAIN?!!! Like he just planted his car in the right space and it was fucking beautiful…no bullshit he just went for it.

Monaco- It would have been pole for the first time for Max…he was flying if not for Charles crashing. And then the race was just so fucking chill from Max…left no space for Bottas to get ahead and got his first win at Monaco.

Baku- Anothrr Ferrari in the wall along with Yuki didn’t help Max in Quali which was annoying cause his pace was good all weekend. The race until the tire blew was good!! Max got ahead of Lewis once again in the pits (shoutout to Red Bull mechanics).

France- POLE AND RACE WIN ON A MERC DOMINATED TRACK!!? Like that was sexy as FUCK…Max overtaking Lewis on the fucking last lap!! And pushing all fucking race showing such skill…loved it top 5 race.

Styria- Another pole and win for Max…Max was just in a league of his own all weekend. AND THE BURNOUTS LIKE DONT SLOW DOWN LIKE THAT AGAIN.

Austria- 3rd pole position and third win…another dominating display from Max…and no burn out.

Silverstone- Shit race but Max in the sprint race over taking Lewis with his brakes ON FIRE?! And the wreath was adorable. Only good part of the weekend (and seeing Merc annoyed lol)

Hungary- Max driving and getting in the points in a car that was almost undrivable and having some fun battles with Daniel and Mick…he never gave up just kept going and those two points at the end mattered

Spa- The quali lap from Max was honestly amazing…like it isn’t talked about enough but he left no room for error and drove so well to get pole…and he won another home GP

Zandvoort- Absolutely iconic!!! Pole and win at his first home race!! And his quali lap was once again so good and his just pulled out 2 seconds on Lewis on the first 2 laps…amazing weekend

Monza- ‘That’s what happens when you don’t leave the space’

Russia- P20-p2…no more to say

Turkey- White suit and white car…beautiful

Austin- Pole and win for the first time in Austin!! Those last few laps with Lewis BREATHING DOWN HIS NECK HE MADE ZERO MISTAKES!! Like he drove so so fucking well…left Lewis no room to overtake by placing his car PERFECTLY. Sexy race

Mexico- THE FIRST CORNER OVERTAKE!!! That was the best overtake of the season!!! He went full send…and just shown how fucking good he is about reading the gaps he is left (Checo’s Dad was amazing too xx)

Brazil- ‘Yeah perfect say hi’

Qatar- ‘Mate let’s have a bit of fun!! We are gonna be second anyways so let’s push!!’…‘Good Evening!!’

Jedda- That quali lap up until the end was fucking amazing…he was flying and pushing (a little too much) around the track. His overtaking after the second red flag…p3-p1 was sexy. HIS POST RACE RADIO ‘ Luckily the fans have a clear mind about racing’…‘This is not Formal 1 but at least the fans enjoyed it’ HIM WALKING OFF THE PODIUM (as he should fuck Merc they didn’t deserve him up there)

Abu Dhabi- POLE POSITION AGAIN!!! And that last lap WITH A CRAMP!! Post race celebrations😭boring as fuck race until the last lap…and he made it count. And also like the man ligit knew how that was his ONLY chance and he just gave it his all…like he left it all on the track and you could see how fucking much skill the boy has when it counts.

[hangman--seresin]

Noa watches Imola

• Pretty safe and normal start

• Lance his front wing ☹

• Vettel spinned Magnussen

• They're just gonna leave Lance his front wing there?

• Imagine living next to the track and just sitting on your balcony watching

• It looks a bit misty or foggy

• Go Alex catch Laclerc

• George is still P13❤

• I don't like hearing Lando Norris and problems together

• Dany leave Alex alone challenge

• Can we please get some George points this weekend

• NO PIERRE 💔

• Fuck terminal car problems, let Pierre drive cowards

• First Harry Potter tiktok broke my heart and now Pierre retires

• *Pause for toilet and snack*

• Come on Alex drive faster

• Oh god George is gonna pit

• COME ON ALEX ❤

• Alex is six tenths quicker than Ricciardo

• Leclec is pitting, clown team in action

• Lando is in pit as well

• Alex is pitting oh god

• So is Dany and Daniel

• Do NOT screw this up RBR

• 2.1 is a fast one, nice job RBR

• Leclec almost missed the braking point

• No further action between Vettel and Magnussen, good

• It's lap sixteen and they're telling Bottas to give everything he's got, so pitstop soon

• ALEX

• Dany stay the fuck back

• Max is gonna pit

• DO NOT FUCK UP

• 2.2 nice one RBR

• I don't like seeing Sainz infront of Lando

• Bottas stop

• Damn Bottas is still in front of Max

• I feel like it's gonna be boring (she says after 20 laps)

• Max overtake Bottas challenge

• Lewis with a 1.18.4 damn

• Bottas has floor damage

• MAX IS WITHIN DRS

• *Starts playing Super Max*

• LEWIS HAS A 1.18.3

• Max his engineer saying that Max is being held up by Bottas, just overtake him than?

• Max is almost a whole second slower than Lewis

• Max his battery is charging slow

• They're gonna let Lewis drive 10 (TEN) more laps??

• Lewis saying he could do more??

• Maks catch Bot

• Nice overtake from Daniel

• ALEX IS CLOSE TO LECLEC AND MAGNUS

• Alex overtake that Haas

• Perez goes pit

• Bye Ocon

• Yellow in sector 2 & 3

• Safety car???

• It's smoking

• Not Olav Mol jinxing Romain

• Lewis is gonna pit

• Virtual Safety Car

• Lewis is lucky

• Virtual Safety Car ending

• Lap 31, almost halfway there

• Nicholas is pitting

• There's a race next week as well?? I thought we had one week off and than next race?? I am confusion

• Max his engine cut out a bit?? Not good

• I have WiFi and data off, so I don't get spoilers

• BOTTAS MADE A MISTAKE

• GO MAX

• GASSEN MAX KOM OP

• George is back to P13, king shit

• Not Ferrari screwing up Vettel his pitstop

• Fucking 13 sec, clowns 🤡

• George P12❤

• BOTTAD MISSED BRAKING POINT AGAIN

• GO MAX

• WHOOO

• GASSU MAX

• Did Max just say 'suck it'❤

• Raikonnen still has to pit?

• 15 laps to go

• George P11!!!!

• Sainz go and retire so that George can get points

• NEEEEE

• GODDAMNIT

• NOT MAX

• SAFETY CAR

• LEWIS IS GONNA PIT

• I DON'T WANT FUCKING PEREZ ON THE PODIUM, GO AWAY

• 😭😭😭

• WAIT GEORGE IS P10 HE CAN GET POINTS BECAUSE OF THIS

• Daniel P3??? Nice one

• NO GEORGE 💔

• I FUCKING HATE THIS RACE

• FIRST PIERRE, THAN MAX AND NOW GEORGE

• Why do the racing gods hate me

• Lance did not brake good enough for this stop

• That poor pit guy, I hope he is okay

• Don't show me George sitting sadly there😭

• Can I please get an Alex podium then?

• Anyways I really hope Perez stays the fuck away from Alex

• Safety Car ending!

• Dany don't

• ALEX NO💔

• NO NO NO NO NO NO

• I really fucking hate this race

• I am sad

• Go Dany

• FINAL LAP, FINAL LAP OF THE RACE

• Lewis has 1.15???

• Merc is winning constructor, congrats!