FAVS 33 - MAX VERSTAPPEN 3.0

Ok so… 🌧️☁️🔥 - Lewis Hamilton.

Could u base it off the trend, dark curls and water colour eyes.

Thanks Queen

WATER COLOUR EYES | LH44

an: this is totally not based off of nico rosberg, no why would it be? also this was written in an hour and is NOT proof read.

summary: lewis' and his teammate have been treading a thin line between love and hate, so when one of them gets into an accident. surely it changes everything.

wc: 4.3k

warnings: car crash

The air in the garage was thick with the familiar scent of oil and rubber, the rhythmic thrum of engines in the distance like a heartbeat. You were stood at the far end, methodically reviewing your race notes, eyes tracing over each figure with sharp precision. Focused. Composed. Untouchable.

But you could feel him there—he was always there, lingering just on the edge of your awareness, never saying anything but always watching. The weight of it made your jaw clench, your muscles tighten in a way that annoyed you more than you’d cared to admit.

Lewis was leaning against the wall across from you, arms folded, his posture lazy and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. You could hear him breathing. You didn’t have to look up to know he was wearing that same infuriatingly relaxed expression, the one that somehow made you feel like he was waiting for you to slip up.

Minutes passed, neither of you speaking, the silence between you thick with something unspoken, but heavy. The team buzzed around you two, but your world was much quieter—tense, a slow-burning friction that had been there since the day you had both signed on.

Finally, you chose to break the silence, not out of need to acknowledge him, but to break the weight pressing down on your chest. "Do you ever plan on doing something useful?"

Lewis didn’t answer right away. Instead, you heard the soft shift of his weight as he stood straighter, footsteps crossing the short distance between you, slow and measured. You didn’t look up. Not yet.

"Are you always this charming before a race?" His voice was calm, casual, the subtle bite behind his words only evident to someone who knew how to listen for it.

You exhaled slowly, setting your notes down on the table in front of you. Only then did you meet his gaze, your cerulean eyes locking onto his, steady and unwavering. His eyes were dark, tension brewing within them, and the way they met yours now—unapologetically, searching for something—only made your guard go up further.

"I’m focused. Maybe you should try it sometime," you replied, your tone even, though every word was a small act of defiance.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t a friendly one. It was the kind of smile that said he was amused by you, that he liked getting under your skin.

"I am focused," he said quietly, his voice dropping an octave. "Just not on what you think."

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Lewis didn’t like that they were racing today, there was far too much rain. Every practice session since they had gotten to Zandvoort felt wrong, every time he got into the cockpit of the car, he wanted to get back out.

The race was chaos—engines roaring, tires screaming as they hurtled through corner after corner at breakneck speed through the rain. Every move had to be precise, every decision calculated, and he was good at it. No distractions, no second-guessing.Even though he didn’t want to race today, Lewis lived for this.

But today, besides the race, something else was off. He hadn’t been able to get you out of his head. Even as he fought for position, his mind wandered—always back to you. To the way your eyes flashed when she spoke to him, the way you never backed down, never let him in. You were supposed to be teammates. Rivals. So why the hell couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

He shook it off, pushing harder, focusing on the track ahead. But then he saw it.

Your car, just ahead in the pack, spun out. It happened so fast—a sudden twitch, then a violent swerve. His breath caught in his throat as your car skidded sideways, slamming into the barrier with a sickening crunch of metal.

Time slowed. Everything else—the race, the other drivers, the screaming radio in his ear—faded away. All he could see was your car, mangled and still, smoke rising from the wreckage.

"Bono, is she okay?" he breathed, panic clawing at his chest.

He was supposed to keep driving, follow protocol, and wait for the safety car. But he couldn’t. Lewis’ hands moved on their own, wrenching the wheel to the side, veering off the racing line. The pit radio crackled, Bono’s voice screaming at him to stay focused, to stay in the race, but he didn’t care. He slammed the brakes, pulled the car to a halt on the side of the track, ripping off his steering wheel in one swift motion.

Before anyone could stop him, he was out. Feet pounding against the asphalt, he sprinted toward your car, every second stretching painfully, his heart pounding in his ears. His mind was racing, filled with worst-case scenarios he couldn’t shut out. You had to be okay. You had to be.

As he reached the wreckage, marshals were already swarming the scene, but he shoved past them, his pulse roaring in his veins. The front of your car was a crumpled mess, the cockpit barely visible under the bent metal and debris. He could see your helmet, your still form inside, and the sight made something twist violently in his chest.

"What the fuck happened?!" His voice was raw, frantic, his hands reaching for the cockpit, trying to pry it open. "Someone help me for fucks sake!"

One of the marshals grabbed him, pulling him back, but he fought against it, his whole body trembling with the need to see you, to know you were okay.

"She’s unconscious—" one of the medics started, but he couldn’t hear the rest. His world had narrowed down to you and the sound of his own ragged breathing. He’d never felt fear like this before, not on the track, not anywhere. It gnawed at him, made his hands shake as he stood there, helpless.

His mind screamed at him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to you.

When the medical team finally got you out, he saw your chest rise and fall—shallow, but steady. Relief hit him like a wave, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to hear your voice, needed to see you open those damn eyes and tell him off like you always did. He needed you to be okay.

"She’s breathing," one of the medics reassured him as they loaded you onto a stretcher, and he nodded, but it felt like a hollow victory. Lewis wasn’t supposed to care this much. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

But as they carried you away, all he could think was that he’d break every rule, throw away the whole damn race, just to hear your voice again.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

The quiet hum of the air conditioning did little to settle the nerves that still buzzed under your skin. You sat on the edge of the small cot in your driver’s room, staring blankly at the wall. Your body ached—nothing broken, they’d told you, but the crash had rattled you more than you had wanted to admit. Your helmet sat discarded on the floor, and the sound of the accident still echoed in your head, the screech of tires, the crunch of metal.

There was a knock at the door, sharp and insistent. You knew who it was before you even heard his voice.

"You in there?"

You closed your eyes for a brief second, already bracing yourself for the confrontation you weren't ready to have. He hadn’t left you alone since the crash—hovering around the medical tent, pacing outside your room. You’d heard him through the walls, arguing with the team, demanding updates. He was relentless. But you didn’t want his concern. You didn’t need it.

The door creaked open, and Lewis stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. Typical. He always pushed his way into your space, never asking, never giving you a chance to breathe.

"You shouldn’t be here," you said, your voice low, your eyes still fixed on the floor. You didn’t have the strength to look at him, not yet. Not when your emotions were too close to the surface.

"I was worried," he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it, and that only made you angrier. "I needed to see for myself that you were okay."

You laughed, a bitter sound, shaking your head. Finally, you forced yourself to look up at him. His usually confident posture was gone; he looked tense, his shoulders tight, his dark eyes clouded with something you didn’t want to name. Guilt? Regret? You didn’t care.

"You were worried," you repeated, your tone mocking, though the anger bubbling inside you was anything but playful. "Since when do you care about me, Hamilton? You’ve made my life hell from the second I signed with this team."

Lewis flinched at her words, but didn’t move, didn’t back down. "I—" He stopped, searching for something to say, something that wouldn’t make it worse. But you didn’t want to hear it.

"You don’t get to be scared for me." You stood up, your body protesting with every movement, but you ignored the pain. Your emotions were a live wire, snapping and sparking in the small room. "Not after everything you’ve done. The comments, the looks, the way you treat me like I’m just some obstacle in your way."

His jaw tightened, his eyes darkening, but you weren't finished. "You’ve been trying to tear me down since the day I got here. You’ve questioned my skills, doubted my place on this team, made me feel like I don’t belong every single chance you get." You took a step closer, your voice rising, cracking with the intensity of everything you’d kept bottled up. "So don’t stand there now and pretend you care. Don’t act like I’m something worth worrying about."

He didn’t move. He just stared at you, his face a mask of tension, like he was holding something back—something he wasn’t sure how to say. His eyes flickered, just for a second, and you saw it: the same fear you’d felt when your car slammed into that barrier. It confused you. It infuriated you.

"You think I wanted this?" His voice, rougher now, cut through the thick silence. "You think I planned to be this way with you? I don’t—" He ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. "I don’t know how to do this. How to deal with you. Because you—"

"Because what?" you snapped, cutting him off. "Because I’m a threat? Because you can’t handle the fact that I’m as good as you? Better, even?"

"Because you scare the hell out of me!" he shouted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. The room fell silent, his confession hanging in the air between you, raw and jagged.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the admission hitting you harder than you wanted to admit. But you didn’t let it show, couldn’t let him see how his words affected you.

"You scare me," he repeated, his voice quieter now, like he was admitting something to himself as much as to you. "The way you drive, the way you push yourself—you’re fearless, and it’s terrifying. And today—" His voice cracked, and he looked away for a second, composing himself. "Today, when I saw you crash, I thought—I thought I’d lost you."

Your breath caught in your throat, but you swallowed the emotion rising there, forcing yourself to stay strong. To stay angry.

"You don’t get to care about me," you said again, quieter this time, but with the same fire. "Not when you’ve spent months trying to break me."

Lewis opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. For a moment, you just stood there, the distance between you feeling both impossible to cross and too close. The tension, the unspoken things that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long, it all hovered between you, crackling like electricity.

Finally, he took a step back, his gaze falling to the floor. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice rough, but sincere.

You didn’t know what to say. Part of you wanted to scream at him, to push him further away, to tell him that his apology wasn’t enough. But another part of you —a part you weren’t ready to confront—was scared by how much you’d wanted to hear him say it.

So instead, you stayed silent, watching him leave, your heart still racing, your mind reeling from everything that had just been said—and everything that hadn’t.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the stillness of the room. Your body felt heavier now, the adrenaline from the confrontation seeping away, leaving only the dull ache of exhaustion and the weight of his words lingering in your mind.

You scare me.

You ran a hand through your hair, still trying to make sense of it all. He was the one who had made your life hell, the one who pushed every button, who treated you like you didn’t belong. And now, he was saying he was scared? That he cared?

You paced the room, the silence gnawing at you, your mind spinning in circles. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You were rivals—always had been. He was the enemy on your own team, the one who made you want to scream every time he walked into the room. But today, when he stood there, looking at you like he was terrified of losing you, it had felt… different.

There was a part of you that had wanted to stay angry, to keep that fire burning between you. It was easier that way. Safer. But another part—the one you hadn’t let yourself acknowledge until now—was starting to unravel, slowly, painfully, as if everything you thought you knew about him was coming undone.

You sighed, sinking back onto the cot. Your body ached, but it wasn’t just the crash. It was everything else—the confusion, the pull you felt toward him, the tension that never seemed to leave you two, the way he looked at you like you were both his greatest threat and something he couldn’t tear his eyes away from.

You don’t get to care about me.

You had meant it when you said it. But now, alone with your thoughts, you wondered if you had been pushing him away because you didn’t want to admit the truth to yourself. That maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want him to stay away. Not anymore.

Before you could second-guess it, you stood up, heart pounding in your chest. You weren't sure what you were going to say, weren’t even sure why you were doing this, but your feet carried you out of your room and down the hall. His room was just a few doors down, the quiet hum of the team in the background doing nothing to settle the storm raging inside you.

Your knuckles hovered above the door, hesitating for just a moment before you knocked, your heart in her throat.

It opened almost immediately. He stood there, still in his race suit, his room a mess and his  eyes shadowed with the same exhaustion you felt. He looked surprised to see you, but there was something else there too—something raw, vulnerable, that made your chest tighten.

Neither of you spoke at first. The silence stretched, thick with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid. Finally, you broke the tension, your voice quieter than you intended.

"I shouldn’t have said what I did."

Lewis didn’t respond right away, just watched you with those sharp eyes that always made you feel like he was seeing straight through your defences.

"I didn’t mean it," you continued, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. "I mean… you didn’t deserve that. You cared, and I shouldn’t have thrown it back in your face."

He looked down, exhaling softly. "I’ve given you plenty of reasons to hate me," he said quietly. "I get why you reacted the way you did."

For a moment, neither of you moved. You were about to say something else, but then he looked up again, and the intensity in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.

"It’s foreign to me," he said, his voice low, his words deliberate. "Liking someone like you. Someone I’m not supposed to like."

Your breath caught in your throat, the air between you suddenly feeling too thick, too charged. The heat from the room, from him, seemed to close in around you, making it hard to think straight.

"You drive me insane," he continued, stepping closer, his voice rougher now. "You challenge me in ways no one else does. And I hate it. But I also…" He stopped, his eyes locking onto yours, his next words barely more than a whisper. "I can’t stop thinking about you."

You swallowed, your heart hammering against your ribs. The tension that had always been between you shifted, growing heavier, hotter, more intense. You could feel the pull, the unspoken thing that had been simmering beneath the surface for months.

Your throat was dry, your body betraying you. "You’re not supposed to care about me," you whispered, but there was no anger left in your voice. Only confusion, and something you weren't ready to admit yet.

He took another step closer, close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, close enough to hear the slight hitch in his breath.

"I know," he said, his voice husky, eyes flicking between yours and your lips. "But I do."

Your pulse thundered in your ears as his words lingered in the air between you, charged and crackling like static. Every second felt stretched, like time was holding its breath, waiting for what would happen next. The tension between you had always been palpable, always simmering just beneath the surface, but now, it was unbearable—thick, electric, like the split second before a lightning strike.

You knew you should say something, break the moment before it went too far. You should push him away, remind him of all the reasons this couldn’t happen, why they couldn’t cross this line. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Instead, you found yourself frozen in place, the walls you’d built up around him crumbling. His eyes were locked on yours, dark and intense, and you felt something inside you shift, like a wire snapping loose.

Your breath hitched as you leaned in, just the smallest movement, enough to close some of the distance between you. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the space between you shrinking until it felt like the air itself was suffocating, pressing you together.

And then, he moved.

His hand came up slowly, hesitantly, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, his touch feather-soft, like he was testing the moment, unsure if you’d pull away. Your skin tingled where his hand touched, sending a shiver down your spine, and for a brief second, neither of you moved. His thumb gently grazed your jawline, and the touch was so tender, so unexpected from him, that it made your chest tighten.

When you didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat, something shifted in him. The tension snapped like a taut string, unravelling all at once. He closed the gap between you in a heartbeat, and before you could think, before you could process what was happening, his lips were on yours.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It was urgent, messy, like he’d been holding back for far too long and couldn’t control it anymore. His lips pressed against yours with a hunger that matched the heat between you, a raw, desperate energy that made your knees weaken. It wasn’t gentle; it wasn’t careful. It was a release—months of pent-up frustration, confusion, anger, and something else that neither of you had been willing to acknowledge until now.

Your body responded instinctively, your hands moving to his chest, gripping the fabric of his suit as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. His body was warm, solid beneath your touch, and you could feel his heart racing just as wildly as yours. You pulled him closer, needing more of him, needing this as much as he did.

The kiss deepened, and his hand slid from your cheek to tangle in your hair, pulling you even closer. Your mouths moved together in a rhythm that was both frantic and intoxicating, as if you were both trying to make up for all the time you’d spent fighting this. Every brush of his lips, every shift of his hands made your pulse spike, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. You could taste the desperation in his kiss, feel the tension still lingering in the way his body pressed against yours.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, tangled in each other, caught in the whirlwind of your own undoing. But when you finally pulled apart, gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Your breaths came heavy and uneven, the world spinning around you as you tried to catch up to what had just happened.

Your mind was a haze of emotions—confusion, relief, frustration—and yet there was something undeniable settling deep inside you, something you couldn’t push away anymore.

You felt the warmth of his breath against your skin, and your heart was still racing, but now, instead of fear or anger, there was something softer, something that scared you just as much.

"I’m still angry with you," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. But there was no heat behind your words now, just the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, like you couldn’t quite hold it back.

He let out a soft, breathless laugh, the sound vibrating between you as he brushed a thumb along your jawline, his touch lingering, as if he didn’t want to let go. His eyes softened as they met yours, the usual sharpness replaced by something you weren't used to seeing in him—vulnerability.

"I wouldn’t expect anything less," he murmured, his voice low, rough with the aftermath of what had just passed between you. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles against your skin, sending a fresh wave of warmth through you.

His forehead still rested against yours, and the air between you was thick with the unspoken things that hung in the balance. You could feel his breath mingling with yours, could still taste the remnants of his kiss on your lips. The tension hadn’t disappeared—it had merely shifted, becoming something new, something more dangerous. The line between you was gone now, blurred beyond recognition, and you didn’t know how to navigate it.

His other hand came to rest on your hip, the touch firm, possessive, pulling you just a fraction closer. Your body responded before your mind could catch up, and you didn’t stop it this time. You didn’t want to.

His lips hovered just above yours, teasing, tempting, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you. You could feel his breath, hot and heavy, his eyes searching yours for permission—for something more. And in that moment, you realised that you wanted it, too. Wanted him.

the end.

Fic Recs Masterlist

Rec I

Rec II

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Fourteen - Olivia's First Birthday Party

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

2K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

Series Masterlist

As much as Daniel was looking forward to date number three, where he would finally ask Milo's momma to be his, he had something to do first. It was maybe the most important day of the year for him.

It was Olivia's sixth birthday.

Olivia was so excited on the week leading up to her birthday. She had given out her invitations to her birthday parties (because got two) the week before. Milo was the first to get his invitations. As soon as he got out of daycare that day he ran straight to his mother, waving the invitations in her face.

"Two parties?" Y/N asked as she turned to Daniel.

"One thrown by her mother and a better one thrown by me," he said as he picked up Olivia. "Two parties doesn't mean two presents, though," he said in something of a reassuring way.

For a single mother who didn't make a lot of money, this was something of a relief. "Thank you," Y/N whispered to him and Daniel offered her a reassuring smile. "Are you gonna be at both parties?"

Daniel shook his head as he picked up Olivia. "I can't," he said somewhat quietly. "I don't want to ruin the party for her."

It was understandable really. The first party, the one thrown by Olivia's mother, was on the Saturday. It was princess themed and, according to the invitation, everybody had to wear a costume.

"Momma," said Milo as they drove to the store on the Friday before Olivia's birthday. "I don't wanna wear a prince costume," he said.

Y/N turned into the car park to the store. "What do you want to dress as, Milo?" She asked as she pulled into the first parking space she saw.

Milo thought about it. "Hmm, a cowboy," he said, nodding his head.

A cowboy he would be.

As Y/N got him out of the car, she pulled the phone out and dialled Daniels phone number. She held the phone to her ear with one hand and held Milo's hand with her other.

"Oh God, what do you want?" Daniel asked when he picked up the phone. But there was an inflection in his voice, one that suggested he was only joking.

"Can you ask Olivia a question for me?" Y/N asked as she and Milo walked over to the section with kids toys. "Can you ask her if she's okay with Milo wearing a cowboy costume?" She asked as Milo picked out a toy.

There was inaudible noise from Daniels end of the phone as Y/N looked at the toy that Milo had picked out. It was one of those barbies that came with a horse which had moving legs. "You are sure she's gonna like this?" Y/N asked quietly.

Milo nodded his head. "She told me she wanted a horse for her dollies," Milo insisted and Y/N tucked the toy beneath her arm.

"Now you've got Olivia wanting to dress like a cowboy," Came Daniel's voice as Y/N and Milo moved through the store, searching for the costumes. "Her mum is going to kill me."

"Well, you'll go out knowing you have the happiest daughter out there," Y/N said through a laugh.

It didn't take them long to find the isle that held the costumes. The hard part was going to be finding a costume that fit Milo. "I'm weirdly nervous about tomorrow," she said as she searched for a costume in Milo's size.

"Don't be," Daniel answered. He was currently getting Olivia into the car to drive her to the store to buy a pink cowboy hat. If she had to dress as a princess, she was going to be a cowboy princess. "She's not going to show herself up in front of the other parents."

That didn't make Y/N feel better. "So don't be alone with her?"

"Probably for the best," Daniel replied with a laugh. "You've got to survive this one so you can come to my party on Sunday."

"Oh yes, your party. What does the great Daniel Ricciardo have planned for his daughters birthday?" She asked.

Daniel laughed again. "I can't spoil the surprises," he said as his phone connected to the speaker in the car.

With a cowboy costume and a doll in her arms, Y/N and Milo set off to the cashier. "I got to go," she said. "I'll speak to you tomorrow?"

"Keep me updated through the party," he said, starting the engine. "I... bye, Y/N."

"Bye, Danny," she said and hung up the phone.

***

Milo sat in the back of the car, wearing his brown cowboy hat. He couldn't wait for Olivia's birthday party. He sat in the back of his momma's car, present in his hands.

"Excited, Munchkin?" Y/N asked as they pulled into the driveway.

Milo nodded his head as Y/N killed the engine and climbed out of the car.

Just an hour earlier Olivia had arrived at the house. Her father had dressed her in her princess costume, with the addition of pink cowboy boots, a pink cowboy hat and a pink bandana around her neck.

Just as Daniel had said, her mother was furious when she opened the door to see them. "What's this?" She asked as she stared at Daniel. From her outfit, it was impossible to tell that she was throwing a child's birthday party. She wore a short, tight black dress, one Daniel knew was just for him. Her heels were incredibly high; she was going to tower over everybody at the party, especially the little five or six year olds. "It's a princess themed birthday, Danny, not cowboy," she said, wearing a sickeningly sweet smile.

Daniel sent Olivia running into the house. This wasn't for her to hear. As soon as she had disappeared inside, Daniel stood up straight to face his ex. "I told you not to call me Danny," he said as he crossed his arms over his chest. Her eyes immediately locked onto his biceps. "This is Olivia's birthday, and she wanted to be a princess cowboy, so she's going to be a princess cowboy."

"It's going to look so strange having a garden full of little princesses and having Olivia sticking out like a sore thumb," she spat as she leaned against the door.

"I don't care," Daniel replied quickly. "Olivia wanted to be a cowboy princess. She doesn't care if everybody else is dressed as a princes. She can be what she wants on her birthday," he said and quickly turned around, walking back to the car.

Thank god he had Y/N to update him on the party.

On the front door was a sign that pointed to the garden. Y/N held Milo's hand as they walked down the side of the house, joining the party.

It was a sea of pink with a couple of spots of blue. Almost all of the little girls were dressed in pretty pink dresses with little tiaras on their heads. The few little boys in the garden were in blue prince costumes, with crowns sat in their hair.

Milo, in his brown vest, cow print pants, brown hat and red bandana, was the odd one out. And he couldn't be happier. Y/N took the present from his hand and let him run into the sea of his friends. She walked to the table of similarly shaped presents and put theirs down.

"You!"

It was a shrill voice, one that had Y/N's eyes going wide. The other parts turned to her and Olivia's mother, still in her incredibly high heels, strode over. She was almost 6 feet tall in those heels, easily towering over Y/N.

She pointed at herself, brows furrowed. "Me?" She asked as Olivia's mother continued approaching.

"It is your fault that my daughter is dressed like a fucking cowboy!"

The entire party fell silent. The children all gasped as they looked towards her. "Sorry, but it sounds like Olivia wanted to dress like a cowboy," Y/N said, trying to be diplomatic.

"She was going to be a princess and this party was going to be perfect!" She spat, getting all up in Y/N's face. "But you put that stupid idea in Daniel's head and he's dressed her like this just to piss me off!" She shrieked.

The other parents looked around uncomfortably. The children watched on, probably learning their new favourite words.

"My son wasn't comfortable wearing a Prince's outfit," Y/N said quietly, trying to keep the conversation between the two of them. "He's five. I don't want him feeling self-conscious at only five."

"I want you and your son to leave," Olivia's mother said suddenly. "Take your son and get out."

Y/N couldn't quite believe it.

"Mummy no!" Olivia cried. It broke Y/N's heart to hear. Olivia walked over to them, tightly holding Milo's hand. "He's my bestest friend and I don't want him to leave," she said quietly.

Y/N stepped closer to Olivia's mother. "If you have a problem with me, leave the children out of it," she said quietly. "After today you won't have to deal with me again. Just let Milo stay for Olivia's party."

Instead of replying, Olivia's mother huffed and turned on her heel. Everybody, parents and children alike, watched as she disappeared into the house.

The party resumed but the atmosphere wasn't the same. Y/N shot Daniel a couple of texts, informing him what was happening. She told him about the clown, about the cake and about the presents Olivia was receiving. She didn't tell him about the altercation with Olivia's mother, didn't see the point.

The party was fun. The kids did several party games and ate cake and sweet and junk food. It only lasted for a few hours, but Y/N was glad to leave. She was just glad to get away from the eyes trying to pierce right through her.

"Did you have fun, Milo?" Y/N asked as she strapped him into his car seat.

Milo nodded his head. "I can't wait for Mr Ricciardo's party!" He said as Y/N climbed into the drivers seat. She was grateful he wasn't mention what had happened in the early half of the party, didn't talk about what had happened with Olivia's mother.

"I'm excited too, Munchkin."

Daniel picked Olivia up from her mothers house an hour after the party ended. It may have been her birthday, but Olivia's mother didn't want her for the night. Daniel was only too happy to take her home.

"There's my birthday girl," Daniel called as his cowboy princess ran into his arms. In her hand she held a doll, her gift from Milo. "Should we head home?"

Olivia nodded her head. Daniel picked up the bag full of toys she wanted to take with her and headed out to the car. Her mother didn't so much as say goodbye. She redid her makeup in the hallway mirror and followed them out of the house.

Daniel knew exactly where she was going. She had a date, he guessed as he strapped Olivia into the car. It was her daughters birthday and she would rather go on a gate than spend time with her. Anger filled him.

Daniel placed her toys into the trunk and climbed into the drivers seat. "How was the party, badger?" He asked as he began pulling out of the driveway.

Olivia looked out of the window. Her cowboy hat was in her lap, revealing the hairstyle Daniel had spent so long perfecting that morning. "Mummy shouted at Miss L/N and it's my fault," Olivia said quietly.

"Oh Badger," Daniel said as he pulled into a layby. He turned around in his seat to face her. "It wasn't your fault, okay? Your mum is mad at Milo's momma because of me so blame me," he said, but Olivia shook her head. "We're gonna make tomorrow the best birthday ever, yeah?" He asked and Olivia hesitantly nodded.

Making a note to ring Y/N the moment he got Olivia in bed, Daniel drove on, taking her home.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @cassie0sstuff @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @aundercover @lou-bean28 @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minkyungseokie @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lillians-world-is-f1 @cixrosie @notyouraveragemochii @charli123456789 @amalialeclerc @teamnovalak @tallrock35 @teenwolf01 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @angiesw0rld @yunakynn @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @catmouseggy @bathedinheat @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @evie-119 @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @radiator101 @lightdragonrayne @angelxxrose @millinorrizz @xemiefx @ellies-world61 @the-depressed-fellow

fqlling4it’s masterlist

formula one

max verstappen

- we can’t be friends (wait for my love)

- sunshine

lando norris

- teenager in love

alex albon

- lover

nhl

quinn hughes

- lake days

In all my relationships with other people I tend to be the emotional one tbh. I’m just easily controlled by emotions as I take everything to heart. It became a hassle for me because people just gets mad that I’m such a cry baby. So I always have this method right now where I try to calm myself down and just breathe. If it doesn’t work I talk with someone who really understands my emotions and they’re the ones who calm me down. 

why is charles wearing 55 😭😭 i thought it was some carcar crumbs

photograph || op81

summary: after receiving an old photo album from your mom you take a bittersweet journey through memories of your childhood best friend, oscar piastri.

pairing: op81 x childhood bestfriend!reader

warnings: heavy on the angst. unresolved feelings

word count: 2,155

a/n: first ever fully written fic 🥹 this is also definitely inspired by the song photograph by nickelback what can i say

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

with a big sigh you pulled the old photo album from the envelope your mom had mailed. she’d been tidying up the house back in melbourne and insisted you take it claiming that it belonged with you. and so there it was resting on your coffee table. the cover was still plastered with stickers and the words y/n's favorite book scrawled across it in glitter glue, a relic of your younger self. you ran your fingers over the worn surface, took a deep breath and opened it. the first page hit you like a truck bringing back an overwhelming amount of emotions. it was a full-page photo of you and oscar on your very first joint podium at 10 years old with the biggest smiles you could have mustered.

✿

you remembered the first time you saw him on track. he was barely tall enough to see over the steering wheel but the way he drove it, like the world around him didn’t exist, made you certain that something special was happening. you two were of similar ages but even then you knew that kid with the messy brown hair and the most determined look in his eyes was destined for something bigger than the little karting track in melbourne and the classrooms you two found yourselves in.

your weekends were spent racing, laughing, and sharing the kind of friendship that only childhood can provide. oscar was your closest friend but there was always something else, something unspoken, that lingered between you. it wasn’t obvious at first, not in the way he smiled at you after winning a race or how you’d both hang out afterward joking about everything and nothing.

but there was something about the way he looked at you in those quiet moments when your gazes met, that made your heart flutter in a way that had nothing to do with the thrill of racing. you would never admit it to him though because he was your best friend and someone you couldn't bear the thought of ever losing no matter how much it hurt to see him with other girls at school.

✿

shaking your head with a small smile, you turned to the next page of the photo album. this one was filled with pictures of you and oscar at your very first f1 grand prix together. tucked neatly beside the photos was the physical ticket from that day and a small picture you had painted that you had signed by your favorite driver at the time. it was a weekend you'd never forget.

✿

“you’re going to make it to f1 and race here one day,” you had told oscar as you two sat side by side watching the cars zip around albert park.

he smile that crooked smile of his and said something like "nah, I'm just racing to beat you silly girl!"

✿

the next page in the photo album brought a wave of nostalgia. it was a collage of moments captured with your beloved little digital camera, the hot pink one you carried with you everywhere back then like a secret sidekick. the photos were a mix of everything that had made that you happy at the time: snapshots of you and oscar grinning wide outside the track, arms slung around each other, sunburnt and buzzing with excitement; blurry, magical pictures of the night sky, stars peeking through the soft glow of city lights; and tucked between them, tiny doodles you’d sketched later of race cars, your helmet design ideas, and little icons of everything that had made you fall in love with racing in the first place.

✿

sometimes, late at night after a race, you and oscar would sit side by side in the grass behind the track. the night air would be cool, the stars barely visible through the lights and he’d talk about his dreams, about f1 and you’d listen, trying not to think about what it would all mean for your friendship.

you were only just kids and you had more time ahead of you or so you thought because the day he hold you he was leaving came sooner than you would've hoped.

✿

you flipped to the next page in the album which held your and oscar’s final last day of school photos that were taken just a few short weeks before he had left. you were on the front porch of the piastri family house in your favorite dress with your hair braided neatly back and oscar stood beside you in his usual school polo, his hair slightly messy, and wearing that same goofy grin he still hasn’t grown out of. you couldn't help but envy the way your eyes sparkled in the photo.

✿

you were sitting in your final class of the day before break - only half listening as the teacher rambled on about everything you'd have to complete while on holiday. you willed the time to go by and snuck glances at oscar who was sitting next to you. when the bell finally rang and you skipped out of the classroom excited for break, you noticed that oscar hung behind. you turned to face him and were met with a rather sad looking oscar, something you hadn't really seen before much less on the last day of classes.

“i have to leave,” he said, the words so simple yet terrifying. he was fumbling with the zipper on his backpack as he refused to make eye contact with you.

your heart dropped into your stomach. "wait.. oscar what in the world are you talking about? you mean leave class?" you asked quickly.

oscar finally looked at you now, his expression a little too serious for comfort. “i’m going to boarding school..... in england so that i can focus on my racing.” his voice was barely a whisper.

it took you a moment to process what he was saying. this wasn’t just about leaving class or even leaving your karting team behind.... this was him leaving everything including you.

“you..... you cant be leaving already? but… what about karting? what about your family? what about me?” you squeaked out as tears began falling down your cheeks.

“i have to do this, y/n/n,” he explained. “you know I have to. this is the next step for me y/n/n just like we've always talked about!! i want to make it to f1 and this.... and this is the way i do that.”

your chest tightened. you wanted to tell him to stay. in fact, you wanted to beg him to stay on your hands and knees but you couldn’t. he was chasing his dream and you knew that but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

✿

you wiped away a tear as the memory of that day replayed in your head. it felt like a piece of you had climbed onto that plane to england with him and no matter how hard you tried you were never quite able to find that piece again.

✿

when you said goodbye at the airport it was even harder than you expected. he stood there with his backpack, his eyes damp and his hair dishevelled. he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye either.

“i’ll be back,” he promised. “i’ll visit, and we can race again together, yeah?”

you nodded, though you didn’t know if you ever would because you were staying here and he was moving on without you.

the months that followed felt like years until they began to actually turn into them. he was gone and living a life you couldn't even begin to imagine. you’d send occasional messages, have brief update sessions but it was never the same. you wanted to be happy for him and part of you was but you missed him terribly. and it wasn’t just the friendship that you missed. it was the little moments like the endless laughter, the late night ice cream runs, and the way he made everything feel right even when a race or a maths test hadn't gone your way.

✿

the last page in your album held a photo of you and oscar at the final race of his you’d ever attended. it was not long after your birthday when nicole had insisted you come with her and hattie to watch one of his formula 3 races. you hadn’t seen him race in person since the karting days and truthfully you hadn’t really seen him much at all since then either.

after a lot of convincing you finally agreed to tag along. and it was there, standing at the edge of the track, that it hit you.. the boy you had grown up with wasn’t the same person anymore and you hardly even knew who that person was.

that day was the last time you'd had seen oscar.

wiping away more tears, you flipped back through the album looking through all the doodles, race tickets, school photos, and everything else in between. so many tiny pieces of your childhood was captured within these pages and so much of it included oscar.

you'd spent all these years thinking you were just missing your best friend. but now, looking back on it all, you knew the truth. you loved him and maybe you always had.

but he was gone now. not in a tragic way, just... in that way life sometimes pulls people apart. years had passed and the distance between who you were then and who you were now felt impossibly wide. you couldn’t call him up and tell him not after all this time. what would you even say?

so instead, you closed the album slowly, pressing your hand to the cover like it could hold everything in place.

you missed him and maybe you always would but that’s just how it had to be.

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

a/n: ahhhh if you made it this far tysm for reading!!!! let me know if you would like a part 2... maybe of y/n getting an invite to australia 2025??

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

Oscar Piastri | Masterlist

Just Oscar (WC. 900+)

Sunshine (WC 1.3K)

Family at Mclaren (WC. 4.7K)

Soulmate (WC. 4.9K)

— EVANGELINE’S PAGE💌

୨ৎ ‘maybe some of us aren’t good at anything’

୨ৎ redbull, ferrari, and mclaren

୨ৎ I write, and then procrastinate, and then post, and then critically judge my ability to write

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Redamancy Series Masterlist

Jasper Hale x Reader

Redamancy • (noun) The act of loving someone who loves you; a love returned in full.

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Twilight

Preface | Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four

Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten

Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen

New Moon

Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen

Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One

Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three

[In-progress • New chapters drop on the weekends]

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