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F1Gossip Actress Y/n L/n mentions Piastri as her favorite Formula One driver.

"I love watching F1, my favorite driver is Piastri. When it comes to F1 the drivers tend to choose you and he spoke to me."

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user1 yeah yeah yeah his face card spoke to me too

user2 wait i had no clue she was an f1 fan

user3 cant tell if she's shooting her shot or what??

user4 i gotta see her at a race now

user5 "ANOTHER ONE THANK YOU"

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F1Gossip Oscar adds onto the lore with Actress Y/n L/n after she mentioned Oscar being her favorite Formula One driver.

It feels wrong not to ask about your interaction with the Actress Y/n L/n you said 'crazy' to her saying she was a fan, any more context or will we be seeing her in the paddock anytime soon?

"Yeah, I mean, I was surprised that she was a fan of mine. I've watched some of her movies so that's why I said 'crazy'. I sent a message and we started talking so hopefully we see her on my side of the garage soon."

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user1 she'll def be at a race soon

user2 them being fans of each other is so cute

user3 could it be pr if they dated..?

->user4 doubt it, y/n doesn't really do "are they dating" pr with anyone 🤷‍♀️ ->user4 and she doesn't have anything to promote right now

user5 "hopefully we see her on my side of the garage" this guy 😭

user6 he got so giggly when they brought y/n up im so here for this duo

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yourinstagram insane 🧡 congratulations to oscar on the win, stunning!!!

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user1 THE FITTT OMFG

user2 so gorg wowww

user3 IS THAT OSCARS LAUGH IN THE BACKGROUND OF THE VID??!?!

->user4 YES ->user3 they are so cute i can't

user5 she looks so happy MY HEART

user6 i feel a coupling brewing

user7 you looked so stunning when they showed you on tv

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PopNews Actress Y/n L/n is sparking romance rumors with McLaren Formula One driver Oscar Piastri after being spotted at a hotel in Belgium together.

The pair have reportedly been messaging since March and made things official mid May.

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user1 these face cards dude

user2 the hand in her pocket is so cute 🤭

user3 wait he's cute, i get it y/n

user4 i knew it from the second she mentioned him SHE HAD A PLANNN 😭

user5 she needs her a good man hopefully he's the one 🤞

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f1 Our front row starter and 'Twisters' Y/n L/n have arrived for race day at Spa.

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user1 oh i love this pair

user2 lets hope he wins 😭🤞

user3 his smile... he's in lovee

user4 most iconic wag already 😩

user5 love how they were fans of each other then started dating

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yourinstagram i think he might like spa...

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user1 boyfriend osc has arrived

oscarpiastri I like you a little more than Spa

->yourusername i'll take it 😮 ->user2 thats pretty high praise

user3 his arms in that picture 😩

user4 wait y'all are so cute together

user5 comes to more races PLEASEEE

user6 ur look was so cute i need it

user7 future oscar winner and future world champ we win these 🥳

Oscar groans, looking at the stretch of sidewalk. It’s half-shielded by awnings, but there are open sections where rain buckets down. You know he’s regretting forgetting the free umbrella the hotel gave you guys the other day. You’re regretting forgetting that umbrella.

He sighs, “We gotta leg it.”

“Yeah,” you agree forlornly, already mourning the loss of the hairdo that you spent so long on, and your perfect makeup, “We do.”

You and Oscar reach for each other at the same time— he grips your hand tightly and you run out into the rain together. Honestly, it’s not as bad as it had looked. Your hair is holding up under the hand you’ve got hovering above it. Your dress is getting wet, but it’ll dry in the warmth of the restaurant. It’s fine.

You’re about to breathe a sigh of relief as the two of you come up on the restaurant. The maître d’ holding the umbrella and beckoning you forward.

Then Oscar is biting out a curse, and even though you’re safely under cover right now he’s grabbing you and tucking you behind his lanky body. You’re confused, you grab his shoulder and turn him around to ask him what’s going on. You frown, he’s facing you and then suddenly a car is whizzing down the cobblestone road and it’s kicking up a spray of water that goes splat right onto Oscar’s back. You catch some of it, but not nearly as much as you would if Oscar hadn’t shielded you.

He cringes, cheeks screwing up in embarrassment or disgust. You’re looking at him with wide eyes. He’s wet, utterly soaked through. Or at least his back half is. You can see his nice button up shirt sticking to his shoulders even from here.

“Um,” you say for lack of anything else.

“You look too pretty,” he says by way of explanation, shrugging like it’s nothing, “Had to sacrifice myself.”

You snort, then laugh. He laughs too, and the you’re just standing there a few metres from the restaurant giggling like school children.

When the laughter subsides you hum, leaning forward to kiss him on the corner of his mouth, “My hero.”

oscar piastri treasures every moment of sleep he can get. cuddling up under the covers, catching up on much-needed rest between races, training sessions and team meetings is his sanctuary, a place where he can recharge. it’s entirely different for you. sleep often feels elusive, insomnia visits you regularly, and after trying to take melatonin, you feel like there truly must be something wrong with you when you’re still left you tossing and turning while oscar dozes peacefully beside you.

one particularly restless night, as you lie awake staring at the ceiling, you decide you’ve had enough. oscar, sensing your frustration, turns over and looks at you with sleepy but concerned eyes.

“another bad night?” he asks softly, voice groggy.

you nod, feeling guilty for disturbing his rest. “i just can’t seem to fall asleep.”

determined to help you find the peace he enjoys so effortlessly, oscar spends the next day researching every possible solution for insomnia, and he ends up with a list. 5 things that have helped others who are suffering from the same problem, and over the next few weeks, he convinced you to try it all, hoping to find the one thing that will finally help you sleep.

1. white noise

the first thing he tries is white noise. researching the best possible brand, he buys a white sound machine and sets it to a gentle hum when you go to sleep one night. the constant noise fills the room, creating a soothing background sound and drowning out any distractions.

it’s nice to lay and listen to, and at first, you think it might work. you close your eyes, snuggle into the covers to find the best position and takes oscar’s hand in yours.

you try, you really do try your best, to let the sound lull you to sleep. everything is nice and calm, but after a few nights, it’s clear that the constant noise only makes you more restless. you lie awake, feeling like you’re trapped in a static-filled void, and you just want to cry.

2. sound apps

oscar is quick to notice your disappointment, and he therefore quickly moves on to the next point on the list.

he downloads several sound apps on his phone, experimenting with everything from rainstorms to ocean waves to forest sounds. he tries different combinations, adjusting the volume and mixing the sounds in various ways, bringing out his inner dj to make you as comfortable as possible.

you appreciate the effort, but none of the sounds seem to do the trick. you lie awake, feeling more like you’re in a nature documentary than trying to sleep. the sounds that are supposed to be calming just keep you more alert, your mind unable to quiet down.

3. blackout blinds

oscar then orders blackout blinds, thinking that maybe the slightest hint of light is the culprit.

the blinds plunge the room into complete darkness, blocking out any external light. at first, you think it might work. the darkness is comforting and you hope it will help you relax, but instead of soothing you, the darkness feels oppressive. you lie there, eyes wide open, feeling the walls close in. the complete absence of light only makes you nervous and the two of you quickly have to give up on that as well.

4. counting sheep

you insisted that counting sheep was silly. there was no way it was going to work and you told oscar exactly that. he didn’t agree though, and with the use of his best puppy eyes, he convinced you to try.

he decides to buy a small stuffed sheep and as you lie in bed one night, he starts an impromptu counting session. you giggle at the sight of him hopping the little sheep across the bed.

“i don’t think this is gonna work.” you hold back a laugh as he makes the sheep take a particularly long jump across your duvet.

“not even if he gives you a little kiss?” he asks, holding back his own giggle as he moves up to you on the bed, making the sheep “kiss” you all over your stomach.

you laugh at the ticklish sensation, and the two of you have to realise that the sheep counting feels more like a silly game than a serious attempt to help you sleep.

5. a cold bedroom

the last thing on oscar’s quickly disappearing list is sleeping in a cold room.

to make that happen, he insists on making the bedroom as cold as a freezer. he cranks up the air conditioning and piles extra blankets on the bed so you don’t freeze to death.

the room quickly becomes chilly, and you snuggle under the covers, head on oscar’s chest as his arms snake around you, trying to regain some body heat. you’re really hoping the cold will help you relax, but you find yourself shivering more than drifting off. the cold air makes you uncomfortable, and instead of helping, it only adds to your restlessness.

the 1 thing that actually did help

after trying numerous different methods, you’re ready to just give up.

“maybe i should go to the doctors,” you eventually suggest. you wish the problem would go away by itself, but it doesn’t seem like it will.

oscar finds himself running out of ideas too, until something dawns to him one night when he’s on facetime with his mom.

entering your bedroom with a book clutched tightly in his hand, you raise an eyebrow at him. “so mom just left to read to read my sister a bed time story, and i thought: why don’t i read to you as well?” he suggests.

you raise an eyebrow, skeptical at the suggestion but at this point you’re willing to try anything.

oscar shuffles across the bed, helping you adjust so your head is pressed against his thigh as he begins to read. his voice soft and steady, keeping a calm pace to his words and you can’t deny that it’s nice.

he plays with your hair as he reads, gently running his fingers through the strands and massaging your scalp. the combination of his calming voice and the soothing sensation of his touch begins to work its magic.

you feel your body relax, the tension melting away. his words become a comforting background noise and his fingers in your hair provide a gentle, rhythmic motion. for the first time in what feels like ages, you feel yourself drifting off, your eyelids growing heavy.

oscar continues reading until he hears your breathing deepen and become steady. he smiles, closing the book quietly and turning off the light, but he doesn’t move, terrified to wake you after you’ve finally found the peace you desperately needed.

sitting against the headboard starts hurting his back, but he still stays beside you, his hand continuously playing with your hair, ensuring you stay asleep.

as the nights go by, oscar’s bedtime stories and hair-playing become your new routine. you find yourself looking forward to bedtime, knowing that sleep is no longer a battle but a peaceful journey.

You hate that he thinks he is, you hate that he thinks he needs to be a certain way to make you happy. To make anyone happy. And you certainly don't care if he doesn't want to dance at a club— no one's going to die if he doesn't, and you'll survive a few hours in the booth until Max tires of Lando and his boundless energy.

Across from you, Oscar's taking sips of his vodka pineapple. His pale cheeks have been steadily turning more red the more alcohol that he drinks, it's cute. You're turning your drink in circles, watching it leave condensation rings on the linoleum table. The DJ is playing a remix of Murder on the Dancefloor and you're about to tip your head back and groan oh my god I love this song,

but Oscar is laughing before the words can even leave your mouth.

"You love this song too?", he raises his very nice eyebrows at you, smiling that closed mouth polite cat smile everyone likes so much.

You sigh, laugh, then roll your eyes at yourself, "Yeah. Love it."

He smiles into his drink, it turns into something a little bittersweet after a moment of you watching him. You think of the sad way he'd twitched his nose the other day, while he was telling you he was boring. Without thinking, spurred on by the alcohol, you lean across the table and swat his hand with yours. But you don't move after, you just slip your fingers into the grooves of his knuckles.

"What are you thinking?"

He bites the inside of his bottom lip, shrugs, "Nothing important."

You're not convinced.

"Is this about you thinking you're boring, Oscar?" —he raises an eyebrow at you, one that says maybe, one that says go on— "Because you are not fucking boring, Piastri."

He laughs, but its critical, disbelieving. More of a scoff than a laugh, but he doesn't want you to catch on. He's trying to act like it's all fine. That's how he is— it's fine it's fine he says and he doesn't let anyone see that things hurt him. He's so good, so nice, so unwilling to make anyone else feel bad.

Positive, optimistic to a fault.

"You're not," you insist, pressing your fingertips into his knuckles.

He shrugs again, "I'm keeping you here. I know you want to go dance. You should go.”

You’re shaking your head before he can finish, “Oscar. Please, I will live. Anyway, sometimes I want to spend time with you without Lando hanging around, y’know.”

Oscar snorts, sincerely this time, “Yeah, he’s—”

“Annoying,” you supply.

“I was going to say a pain.”

“Same thing.”

“Mm,” Oscar snickers, “S’pose so.”

Then,

“Are you sure you want to stay here with me?”

You slide your fingers down to his wrist, gently turning his arm around so it faces upward. His skin is smooth where you trace the lines in his palm. You're both quiet, looking down at your hands where they're intertwined. If you're honest, you've kind of forgotten why you did that— your thoughts feel loose, a bit disconnected. Oscar is warm and sweet and here. You just wanted to touch his hand you think. You trace a line up his ring finger without thinking.

"I'm sure," you say, a little breathless for no good reason.

"Promise."

"Huh?", you drift your gaze up to his.

Polite cat smile, he repeats, "Promise?", it's more of a question now.

You nod seriously, curling your fingers into a fist and sticking your pinky finger out, "I pinky promise, Oscar."

He does the same, lifting his hand up in offering. Your pinkies lock together, he squeezes tightly and you pull against him, like the tighter the promise is the more that you mean it.