Summary: “We were never bad, Charles, we just lost each other somewhere along the way.”
It’s been two years since you and Charles broke up and you have been trying to find your way ever since. Will seeing him again make you find your true north?
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader (unnamed OFC, nicknamed Flo)
Although this is very much a Charles x reader, it also focuses heavily on Pierre Gasly and reader being best friends.
Warnings: Mentions death of a parent/parents. Mentions Jules Bianchi and Anthoine Hubert. They are not used as plot points, but they are a big part of both Pierre’s and Charles’ lives and thus are interwoven with this fic which relies heavily on backstory. I wanted to include these in the warnings because I know it can be triggering for some, however I really tried to keep it as respectful as possible.
Status: Finished
Part 1 - published 12/28/21
Part 2 - published 01/09/22
Part 3 - published 01/23/22
Part 4 - published 02/08/22
Epilogue - published 03/13/22
Bonus - published 03/21/22 (timeline: between part 4 and the epilogue)
Wrapped Stories?! Please! I love your work so much! Can you do 16 for my favourite Ferrari lad? I’m happy to hear you are back writing again!
Babe. BABE. I would love to, but... Song 16 is 'Within You' from Ray LaMontagne where the lyrics literally are:
War is not the answer, The answer is within you
Love
And that's it. Not much to go on, tbh. So might I perhaps suggest picking a different number? 😇 I mean, I could probably make something work, but it would be very abstract 😘
BABE. YES. We very much need a Top 50 songs stories again, please and thanks. Let me know when I can fire off a single number and definitely not send other anon asks asking for more than just one. 😘
xoxox - Your Fav Menace/ Podcast Host
Great idea for all the anon messages, babe. I would have absolutely no idea they'd be from you. No clue. None. But. BUT. We could do ours on the podcast, no? That way we can either write or like, audiobook these drabbles. Yes/No/Maybe? 👀
Should we do another "Send me an ask with number between 1 and 50 and a pairing of your liking (within the realm of people I write for ofc), and I'll write a 5-sentence drabble based off the corresponding song on my wrapped list' this year?
Summary: “Like I said, she isn’t afraid to call me out on my bullshit.” Max isn’t sure how he ended up here, talking about his relationship with his Communications Manager, but he decides right then and there that he likes it. He likes that for once he doesn’t get asked about GP, or even Brad, and gets to talk about her instead, even though, up until now, their relationship has been strictly professional.
Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader (unnamed OFC)
Warnings: Language.
Word count: 7.1k
AN: So. This happened. Honestly, I have been working on the plot to this fic for weeks on end, coming up with endless scenarios, but after you guys told me to go for a Max x reader, friends to lovers-fic it sort of wrote itself… I don’t know what happened either, tbh. If anything, this is not my usual style of writing, but it’s always been how I thought this story should be told, so I hope you like it :) Feedback is very much appreciated!
“Max,” she all but sighs from where she’s waiting for him in his hotel room, the frustration clear in her voice when she continues, “come on. We need to-”
“-to go,” he says at the same time she does, knowing all too well she hates it when he does that. He chuckles when he steps out of the bathroom and sees her roll her eyes at him. He doesn’t comment on it though and instead points at the grey button-up shirt she insisted he’d wear, “Are you sure about this?”
He watches her as she knits her eyebrows together as she gives him the once over, “Yes?”
“It’s not too dressed up?”
She rolls her eyes but there’s a hint of a smile tugging on the corners of her lips, “It’s an interview with ESPN, Max. I’m not going to let you wear your fuckin’ Red Bull shirt.” She motions him to come closer and holds out her hands, “Come here.”
When he does she tugs on his sleeves before she seems to think better of it and unbuttons one of his cuffs, rolling it up just below his elbow, her fingers ghosting over his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She seems oblivious to the effect she has on him and instead lets her eyes wander from his head to his toes and back, “No, yeah, that’s better,” and rolls up the other sleeve as well.
Every single fic update there is an author trying frantically to find the right balance between a nonchalant aside of "leave a comment if you enjoyed =)" and clinging desperately to the coat tails of a random stranger, dragging along behind them on the street wailing "Please, please! I have to know what you thought! I'm desperate to talk to people about this! Ask me about the alliterative repetition! Ask me about the symbolism!"