#ch 16

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Final Part

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x rookie!redbull!driver!reader Summary: F1 rookie Y/n, known for her guarded "poker face" because of a traumatic past involving an abusive ex-boyfriend , finds an unexpected solution to her problems in McLaren driver Oscar Piastri. Following Oscar's humiliating public breakup, the idea pops up, a perfect PR stunt to shield Y/n from her ex's harassment and distract the media from Oscar's heartbreak. Includes: fake relationship, mutual pining, emotional walls / guarded protagonist, hurt/comfort, slow burnnnnnnn, happy ending at the end of the series. Warnings: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Narcissistic and abusive Ex-Boyfriend, Past Relationship Trauma, Emotional Distress / Anxiety, Cheating, Cuss words. Lily is the cheater (for story purposes, in this account, we like Lily and we don't tolerate hate towards anyone) Word count: 5k a/n: This is going to be a mini series; it's going to be between three and four parts. My first language isn't English, so if you see any mistakes, i'm sorry and tell me so i can correct them. Also, I still don't know if I want to make this my debut into smut soooo Im thinking about it. Also, if I should add another warning, please let me know.

Life has been hard on you, but the thing is, that's life. Life is life, with its ups and downs. You learned that in every twist that your life took, you had something to learn, a lesson to take, and then move on to the next one.

You thought that after everything, you could have been happy until you met him, and your world turned upside down. It took you effort to always be the poker face girl, your nickname, and you promised yourself that your life didn't need any kind of love aside from friends; romantic love was not your thing. It was never meant to be for you, never.

Every relationship that you had was a disaster in all the wrong ways—cheaters, ex-boyfriends, liars, and even an abusive one that you never talk about because of what a failure and mistake it was. Your life was perfect in every other topic, career, job, perfect.

Until Oscar Piastri came into view that first weekend, and you fell hard for him.

“Poker face.” You turned toward the voice and spotted George right away. His blue zephyr eyes glistened because the sun didn't have any kind of mercy for anyone. You put your lips in a thin line, trying not to smile, not even a little.

“Yes, Russel,” You said, stopping in front of the Mercedes garage, where he came from. He put his hands in his pockets, trying to keep it cool.

“You're a rookie here,” He commented, giving the sun a view of his board back. You sighed as he put himself in front of you. You needed to get to the interview room before they fined you a large sum.

“I know, but I'm the best rookie of all,” You commented, not as a question but as a fact. He raised an eyebrow, and he looked like the diva he has the reputation for.

“So much confidence,” he whispered, walking with confidence towards the first interviews of the season. His smile spread across his face, and you gave him a tight smile, making him laugh a little.

It was true that you were one of the best rookies, if not the best one. You had won F3 and F2 without blinking an eye, with a precision and decisiveness nobody understood. You were one of the first women who got too far at that quick pace. You were proud, but you wouldn't be satisfied until you won F1, and, for the way George was seeing you, he knew it.

You've known George since he was karting, and you were just watching. You were seven years younger than him and admired him with all your heart. He trained you in secret when your parents were away for work. He helped you when he was also learning, and you will always admire and respect him for it. That's how you started to pick up an interest in racing, because of him, and it was one of the best things that ever happened to you; it saved you from drowning in the bubble your parents wanted you to live in.

George knew it. He knew everything; he was like a brother to you, the brother you never had. He saw what no one else could, and the most crucial thing is that he understands you in ways you didn't even understand yourself.

“Most of them are nice, and more with rookies, but you're the first woman in a while to make it here.” You furrowed your eyebrows, knowing that next year another great woman would come; she had already passed to F2, and you expected to see her the following season.

“So?” You asked, by the way, he was a little nervous. You knew he wanted to protect you, but he couldn’t anymore. He had something to do, plus you were already an adult. “I'll be fine, George, really.”

“They're nice outside the track, but at the track they're merciless y/n. That's how it works, and I know you're tough, but you need to know that. ” He smiled at you, seeing Kimi walking towards you too. You gave him a tight smile, going straight to Max, your teammate.

You and Kimi were fortunate to have the opportunity to race in F1 for a huge team that was paying you. The rookies in second teams, trying to grow into it, they can make more mistakes, that's for sure. They won't have the pressure, Kimi, and you will.

“Talking with the enemy?” Max joked as you moved to his side, waiting to enter the interview room.

There were many drivers outside already: the rookies you had already raced with, and the ones with more experience, like Max and Lewis. You didn't pay much attention, but having to interact with all the drivers for the first time made you break out in goosebumps. It was thrilling, but at first, you were nervous, very nervous. Something George knew, and that's why he approached you.

“Maybe, but I’ve known George since we were kids,” you muttered over your breath, so only Max could hear. He passed a hand over his hair and smiled at you. He looked pretty comfortable with you, but you supposed it was normal after all the teammates he already had.

You fidget with your fingers behind your back, trying to seem cool and composed. The air in Australia was freaking hot, unbearable; you couldn't stop thinking about how it would get hotter inside the car.

“Really?” Verstappen looked surprised that nobody had seen you around, because, well, you tried to keep a low profile, and to be honest, it was normal that the drivers didn't look for the young woman in the paddock.

“Yes, he was the one who taught me to race,” you whisper under your breath so only Max can hear the secret you and George share. His blue eyes were surprised at it; he didn't expect that at all.

You turn your head toward the entry, and that's where the air caught in your lungs. Oscar Piastri was there with Lando by his side; he looked invested in whatever story Norris was saying. The cutest boyish man you've ever seen in your life. You swallowed hard because you didn't do love; it was simply that way. It's been at least three years since the last time you involved yourself in a relationship, and since then, you decided that it wasn't worth your time or your mind.

Plus, he looked like he had a girlfriend and the serious type, a boy like him will never look at a girl like you. That's what you think. Formula 1 drivers didn't want girls who were down for everything and did the same things as them; fearless girls were for another kind of man, if that's even a concept. No, they usually want models and soft girls, and you were neither. Happy for it that you could do what you love, but at this moment it felt bitter in your brain. The thought didn't sit right with you, even though you would never change anything.

You didn't even try to hide the way you looked at him, because George was looking at you and thinking what the hell you were doing. He whistled at that, which took you out of your trance, but a little too late. Norris caught you red-handed, and the only thing left to do was to keep that emotionless mask you grew up using as a shield. He just smiled at you a little, and before you could see Oscar turn his head towards your direction, you looked away.

“That’s incredible, really. George can be hard sometimes,” Max said as he saluted Kimi, who looked like he was about to throw up in the middle of the line.

You only nodded to him, and in that moment, the Italian boy calmed a little. You've been in this kind of position before, being rookies and all that, winning championships in different seasons, but that helps keep the competitiveness and, at the same time, the friendship between you two and the rest of the rookies in the season.

“Yes, he wasn’t very easy on me, but I thank him for it,” You commented, keeping up with the small talk. Your nervousness was going away little by little, the way Max was reassuring you with his eyes, they understood what you were thinking and feeling. “Kimi looks like he's about to run away.”

“Yes, but I think the most scared of them is Gabi, look at the poor guy,” he said, laughing a little at the turn the conversation took. You looked at the Sauber driver and felt his fear as he entered the interview room.

“Gossip this early in the season?” Charles asked as you straighten your spine a little bit. His voice was deep, and Max just nodded with his head. “About what?”

“The rookies,” you answered, and Charles, funny enough, looked at you, his eyes saying, “you're also a rookie.” You knew it, but you adapted quickly in the situations, and every second that passed, you felt more like you belonged here. “To be honest, I'm the least nervous of all of them.”

“Actually, yes, you look to compose for your first interview of the season. Not even Max was so relaxed, “ He joked as Charles saw how Carlos went directly to Lando, he smiled a little at him.

“More respect. Are you ready?” Max asked you as you tried so hard not to look where Oscar was standing. The door opened for you to enter the media room, where many journalists and camera operators waited for articles and headlines.

“I've never been more ready.” Such a liar you were. You didn’t notice Oscar was behind you, trying to suppress a smile with your confidence.

“So… y/n…. Do you mind people calling you poker face?” A journalist from Sky Sports asked, as you were sitting in one of the chairs behind most of the grid, where all the rookies were. Kimi touched his feet to yours; he's trying to play and distract you like old times, even before someone calls you cold.

“I don't mind at all.” You shuddered a little, feeling all the eyes in the room were on you, paying attention.

“Do you think you're going to be the best rookie this season?” The same woman asked, writing something in a notebook, and you could feel some of the drivers in front of you looking at you.

“That's something we’re going to see, but I don't expect these guys to do it easy for me.” You give a tight smile, and a lot of flashes blurred your vision a little. You heard Ollie's small laugh on your left, and you suppressed a bigger smile.

“We're going to compete a lot, it's going to be fun,” Kimi interjects during the interview, and you thank him with all your soul. At that moment, you turned your head towards one of the corner chairs and saw Oscar, seeing you with a deadpan expression, but his eyes were bright, like chocolate brown, and you felt his intense gaze on you.

You wanted to smile at him, but you couldn't risk yourself; everyone was looking at the way you lit up when you saw him, and more in your first fucking interview. You've only seen him on TV and all that, but in person, he was more handsome and charming in his own, unique way.

“Oscar, how is your heart after the breakup with your girlfriend?” Your blood ran cold, completely cold, as you heard another journalist ask.

Oscar looked at him with a cold face, serene but polite. Kimi shoved his elbow into your ribs as you composed yourself a bit. You felt your neck burn, but luckily, that was all. You didn't blame yourself, and you thanked whoever was making you feel this way to stop it. You felt so out of control. Nobody was expecting that.

George looked at you with his lips in a thin line, his blue eyes wide open, and the room fell into complete silence. You could slice the tension with a knife. Everybody was holding their breath, looking meticulously towards Piastri. Usually, these interviews were about races and work stuff; you've never heard someone ask a question like that. All the cameras were facing Oscar. He straightened a little and looked up, thinking of his response, you supposed.

Single, fresh from a break-up that, for the way Lando was looking at Oscar, was… messy. Something wasn't right, and the way half the grid looked at him with empathy and the other half with curiosity to know what actually happened, it gave it all.

“I… um… I'm focused on the races and locked in for the season,” He simply said, trying to look casual, but his expression was tense. The air in the room changed as the journalists moved on with some questions towards Max and Lando.

You could only think of the race and the way Oscar's eyes lost their brightness at the mention of his breakup. You were curious, you wanted to know what happened, but you knew that the moment George knew the information, he was going to spill the tea.

The moment they let you go, Ollie and Kimi grabbed your shoulders towards the exit. You suppressed a playful smile that wanted to break free. You were about to ask what they were plotting against you.

“We need to do our bets this season.” You relaxed, thinking they might have seen you paying too much attention to the McLaren driver.

”Best rookie?” Ollie asked, taking out a paper from his pocket and writing the name of each one. You smile, hiding your face in Ollie's back as he laughs.

“Me,” you said in unison, making you chuckle a little. Both as competitive as always.

“Honestly, Kimi, I think she’s gonna win,” Ollie confesses as he earns a smack on his shoulder from Kimi, the Italian boy.

He looks offended, but has a bright smile on his face. Like the old times when you were racing together in karting, you were the oldest of them, but Kimi always brought out the child inside you. You used to hate it, but you learned to cherish it.

The memories of your childhood weren't bad, but they weren't great either. You loved to play at the park, to laugh, always to be happy, and the most characteristic thing about you was your smile, until, little by little, it faded with your happiness and your trust in people.

You blocked the thoughts away; you need to focus on the race and the practices. You didn't have time at all to think about your whole life, even though you went into that spiral more times than you'd love to admit.

You placed all your bets on the table, with nothing to expect for the season.

Your world fell apart before the race, when you were pacing through the paddock, and you saw him. The guy who turned the sweet girl into the bitter, serious woman you were. You felt your skin prickling and your gut clenching negatively. Your intuition wanted you to run away as far as you could, but you just couldn't get yourself to do it, not when all the cameras were on you, waiting to know if you actually were something more than acquaintances or friendship.

“Y/n,” He exhaled like a prayer, but you felt it more like a plea to a sin he committed. Surely he did. You stop on your tracks.

“Foster,” you put on your mask as you feel the cameras taking photos. You were in front of the McLaren and Ferrari hospitality. You needed to go to the other end of the paddock towards Red Bull. You saw a girl in the chair outside the McLaren hospitality. They were near the only thing you wished for was that they weren't too close to hear the nasty conversation that was going to take place.

You felt your cheeks tremble at the memories that rushed back of that night and of all the relationship you had with him, your F3 journey, tainted by that relationship. You tried to suppress the panic in your chest, your labored breath, and obviously, he noticed it; of course, he did, like the narcissistic man he was.

You looked at the blue sky as if it held the answer to how you'd get out of this uncomfortable situation.

“You made it, I've never doubted it,” He commented with a big smile plastered on his fucking perfect face. You felt how your brain turned completely blank at his cynicism. He was a liar, a fucking liar.

“I was gonna make it. I always achieved my goals.” You responded dryly as you put your hands behind your back, before one of them flew through the air and slapped his face, or even worse.

“Yes, but lonely as always. You'll never find someone to love you. The only one capable of loving is in front of your eyes.” Your jaw tightens at the statement, fury rising through your veins, your heart pumping blood through your body, preparing for war. For a fight but no words form on your mouth. “You’ll see me around.”

You felt trapped with your worst nightmare, with your insecurities, and you felt like that seventeen-year-old girl who fell for the wrong guy at the worst time of her life. That girl who was so naive and sweet, he destroyed her piece by piece, from the inside out. The worst of all is that you believe half of it, that you'll never find someone to love you. You hated yourself for it.

“I'm where I want to be and who I want to be.” You said more confidently than you actually felt. Your insecurities crawl on your skin the way he only provokes them. There were ghosts that you ignored most of the time, but they were appearing in your peripheral vision.

He was about to say something else when you felt an arm intertwined with yours, and you thanked whoever came to your rescue.

“Excuse me, but I need to talk to her for a second.” A female voice said to you casually, and with optimism.

“And for the record, I'm dating someone.” The lie slipped through your lips before you could stop it.

You felt your body relax at that moment, as a weight lifted from your shoulders. You needed to focus on the race, not on this stupid asshole. You didn't dare look at your savior, as she didn't leave him room to respond; she took you to the nearest bathroom.

You let yourself take out a shaky breath as you recline on the sink. Your racing suit hangs loose on your hips.

“It looked like you needed someone to save you,” she commented, closing the door so no one could eavesdrop.

“God, thank you. You're my savior.” You whisper, splashing some cold water onto your face, trying to concentrate on the freezing feeling of it and not on the interaction of your ex-boyfriend.

“An ex?” She asked curiously, her voice sweet, and you only nodded as you dried your face with some paper. Trying to recover your composure.

“Sadly, an idiot.” You were looking into the mirror and seeing a taller girl, not so much older than you, smiling at you, without pity, just pure empathy. Her hair was short and pink; she looked so carefree that you wanted to be her friend instantly.

“I know a lot of them, I have two sisters,” she said, giggling, which made all the tension on you ease faster than you'd expected. “So… you're the new rookie of Red Bull.”

“I am, and really, thank you for this.” You felt your eyes water a little; you thought nobody would save you from the situation, and she stepped in without knowing you at all—a kind soul in a world of cruel people.

“Any time. If you need someone to talk to. I'm here.” She took out a notebook and pen and annotated her number. She passed it to you, and you gave her a tight smile, grateful for the gesture. Her eyes widened a little bit at your sudden expression.

“Thanks, he was an idiot… and well… it affects me more to see him than I want to admit it,” You blurted out and mentally slapped yourself for telling this to an altogether stranger, but she put herself beside you. Shoulder to shoulder, and smiled at you. She was attentively listening. “I haven't seen him for more than two years. A narcissist and more.”

“They're the worst ones, but look, you focus on your first weekend in F1. Don't give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this.” That made you focus on the present rather than the past.

He was out of your life; you didn't owe him anything, and you weren't planning on seeing him again. But you knew him too well; if he came back, he wanted something from you. That's how it works. He wants you again now that you're in a better position, but after all the things he's done, you'll never go back to him, over your dead body.

“Of course, yes… The race” You straighten yourself more and take another look at the mirror. You weren't afraid; you were more than that. “I'm not dating anyone.”

“You just said that for spite?” She laughed with a brightness that made you feel completely at ease. Somebody was calling you on your phone, god, it was Max. They were looking for you, and you needed to be there for the strategies and everything.

“Yes, now, I'll need a fake boyfriend.” You joked, but you could see the wheels turn in the pink-haired girl's eyes. She was thinking about something that you didn't have time for. “ I need to go, but I'll call you. What's your name?”

“Hattie, nice to meet you, and I have an incredible idea,” she said with mischief in her voice, making you smile wider at her words before putting your cold mask back on.

“Y/n,” You said back, opening the door and running through the entire paddock, without a clue of what was on the mind of the girl that you just befriended.

The race went well, not perfect, but enough for your first race in Formula 1, 5th behind Kimi. You didn't hear the end of it when you stepped aside to see the podium. Max was second, and you cheered for him as he clapped. Happy with your result of today's race.

“I won,” he cheered, putting his arm around your shoulders as you shook your head with a little grin, the only smile that you allowed yourself, and only in celebrations.

“It's the first race, Italian boy, wait for it.” You threatened him jokingly, and he smiled at you as he walked towards his garage. You saw how Ollie waved at you with a thumbs-up as he entered his own garage.

How life moves so fast: a few years ago, we were just kids dreaming of becoming the best and one day entering Formula 1. And here we were. Fulfilling that dream. You smiled at the ground, with your helmet in one hand, the realization of it hitting you like the best ton of bricks in the world. You felt more whole than you've ever felt in your life. Your heart skips a bit at the emotion. The happiest you've ever been in a while now.

And that asshole had shown up again to keep ruining your moments.

“Where's your boyfriend?” He asked directly. He came from the Ferrari garage, and you tensed up, walking toward the safety of your own garage. He couldn't enter it. He walked with you, with that knowing look on his face. He knew you wanted to get away from him.

“My love life is private,” You simply said, looking for another escape for the second time in the day. They were fans shouting your name from above the pits, and you waved at them, making them cheer for you a little more. “It has never been like that.” He commented, trying to catch your arm, but you put more distance between him and you, trying not to look so suspicious about it. You didn't want to draw any attention to him.

“Well, now it is, and more for you. Just leave me alone, do your life, and I’ll do mine.” You said dryly, seeing your mechanics cheering for you, you ran towards them, but you still heard him say

“You're going to end up with me, and you know it,” he said, as if it were a fact. You almost gagged at it, it made you nauseous. You ignored it as you, engineers, and mechanics hugged you for a great race on points. You were shining, blocking all thoughts of Foster. It wasn't his moment; it was yours.

“Great race,” You heard everyone yelling and happy at the podium, and you ended up in points.

After chatting with Max and everyone else, you were exhausted, but before you took a quick shower, you sent a message to Hattie. You wanted to hang out with her and know more about her.

“I’m Y/n, see you soon?” You asked as you discarded the racing suit and got into the cold water. You sighed in relief, feeling your muscles relax. You blocked your thoughts toward Foster; you didn't have enough energy to think about it. You wanted to relax and focus on the next race.

Maybe sometimes you dodge your thoughts, but you don't have time to deal with a lot, especially when you feel so lonely, even though you have your friends. You pushed them away; the only one who knows you is George, and when you tried to push him away, he didn't let you. He forced the friendship, and now you're glad someone actually fought for a connection with you.

As you wrapped a towel around yourself and stepped out of the shower, you saw your phone light up. You pick it up with a message from Hattie.

“You're staying at this hotel?. If yes, we can see each other in the restaurant.” She sent her location, and indeed, you were staying in the same place.

You sent her an awkward thumbs-up as you went directly to the exit of the paddock, and someone picked you up. You went the whole drive to the hotel in total silence, trying to process the weekend of your dreams and your nightmares.

You went straight to the restaurant and saw the pink-haired girl waving at you. You sat in front of her, the restaurant was empty, everyone had departed, and you supposed that most of them were catching a flight to the next destination or home for a few days.

“Great first race… congratulations,” she said with a smile, and you nodded back, more composed and a little more reserved than in the bathroom.

“I did what I could, it was… fine,” you said, pursing your lips a little. You needed to push more, but that was something to worry about for the next race.

“Hattie, so why do you want me to come…” You heard that masculine voice and tensed up immediately. You look at how Oscar Piastri was in front of you, sitting next to Hattie, and in that moment, the resemblance hits you like a million stones.

“You didn't tell me you had a brother.” You accused her. Scratching your arm, as you felt Oscar's eyes on you, his jaw dropped. He didn't expect this either.

“My bad, look at my brother and my new friend I made today.” You try so hard to suppress a smile at the fake innocence radiating from her, but when you can't, you pass a hand over your mouth—easing all your facial muscles.

“What are you scheming?” Oscar looked suspiciously at her sister, and the interaction felt so natural that you felt uncomfortable looking at them. He looked more at ease, relaxed, than you've ever seen him in your short journey of three days, seeing him everywhere.

“We're going to make this quickly.” She promised, wearing a mischievous smile. She looked pleased with whatever plan she made, and the second realization of the night hit you.

“Oscar, you need to direct the attention towards other things, and not your cheater ex-girlfriend. You need someone fresh and new so that people will talk about.” You take a sip of your water at that exact moment and almost spit it out. The least you expected was that. George must have the most exciting tea of his life. You needed to know it all.

“And you need a boyfriend so your ex stops bothering you.” You felt your cheeks warm the moment Oscar looked at you with the same surprise.

His brown eyes were seeing your soul; you felt it. Suddenly, you were embarrassed by both of your situations. They were pathetic. The realization that Hattie was making a matchmaker, well, a fake one. The way she was exposing the problem made it more like a PR stunt than anything else. A lifesaver for the situation that you had, and well, it favors Hattie's brother.

“We are both drivers of the grid,” he said politely as always, his hands loose fists, looking at every reaction and expression you made.

“And different teams,” you whispered, making eye contact with Oscar at the table. Suddenly, you felt shy; it had been years since you'd felt this way. You've never looked away first, no matter the situation, but here you were, doing exactly that.

“I took the liberty to ask first your PR manager, Oscar.” Oscar groaned quietly. You saw how blush crept into his neck and cheeks, barely, but it was there—the kind of embarrassment only a sister could make. You suppress a chuckle. “She said I was nuts but that it was a great idea, the only one that needs to check if it's alright with your team is you, Y/n.”

“First, you want to do this? ” Oscar asked you, searching for your eyes, and you chewed your lip unconsciously. You were considering it.

Foster wasn't going to stop bothering you; that's a certainty. He will travel the world so that he can torment you. You needed to seem stable and settle down with someone. If he sees that, maybe he’ll stop caring so much and make your life easier. This was the only path that could make him go away as far as he could and start his own life without destroying the one you had a difficult time building again, even though the building wasn't stable enough for you to create a durable life.

“I need a solution, and I think this is the only one I have.” You confess above your breath, taking out your phone to call Jade, your PR manager. She was going to think you were going mad, but you knew the moment you said Foster's name, she would say yes, without any doubt or further questions.

“We barely know each other.” He mumbles, looking at the big window by his side. You just agreed with a predictable nod. His face looked sad, his eyes didn't have that brightness you saw once this weekend. His girlfriend must fucked it up badly.

You knew it, you needed to spend time together, and you didn't think that was a great idea, not after the way you catch yourself looking at him every time he appears. You needed space, but you also needed help with this.

“It's a big stunt, just try to become… friends, and you'll be alright,” Hattie suggests, playing with her rings on her fingers. You exhaled.

“I'm in,” Oscar said abruptly in the silence, and you tried not to look impressed. You quirk up an eyebrow, making him smile tightly at you. “I need people to stop pitying me.”

“So… I'm in, I'll help you with that, and you help me to get rid of my ex.” You clarified, and he nodded, passing his hand over his brown hair. You looked away when his jaw clenched slightly. Your stomach dropped. This was going to be a hard season in all aspects.

Request are open

well yes of course!!

"Oscar's Pastries" is the name of Oscar's little patisery/coffee shop.

he's a pastry chef who walked away from a high-stress fancy french hotel kitchen where he didn't have a good time, he was basically burned out from culinary exploitaion, and decided to fuck off to monaco and open a little bakery-pastry shop.

he moved to france to study in culinary school and dedicated most of his life to that, so he doesn't know much about celebrities and all. he knows everyone in monaco is loaded though, and that's why he opened his shop there, but he doesn't know about who's who or why they're famous and filthy rich.

so, when this hot, handsome man walks in, and asks for three coffees, a fancy pastry box and a pupccino he's like "hm this guy must be like a model or something" and then goes on to try to figure out what's his name from the three the coffees he ordered, he's dorkily charming, obviously doesn't know who he's dealing with. and the guy [charles] just leaves a ridiculously large tip??

charles is hooked because. who the fuck works(and possibly lives) in monaco and doesn't know who charles is? he's not even offended just intrigued, and let's be honest oscar is cute too, so. he comes back and this time logan (the barista who's supposed to be manning the counter) is witness to this fucking madness

logan wants to tear his hair out because "HOW ARE YOU FLIRTING WITH THIS GUY AND SUCCEDING WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING WHO HE IS!?" osc: "sooo.... is he a famous actor or something?" log: "you're hopeless, i won't deal with this shite"

eventully oscar figures it out, and they get together and oscar becomes a wag and goes to work for ferrari's hospitality for a weekend or two, and they fall so much in love and they're so soft and it's disgustingly sweet.

that was my long ramble :))))

CL16 x reader

You’re my best friend’s sibling. We crossed a line—and now every family dinner feels like a ticking time bomb.

I never thought a single summer could change everything. Not just how I saw him, but how I saw us. Charles Leclerc wasn’t just my best friend’s brother—he was the person I’d known for my entire life. We’d grown up together, family friends for as long as I could remember, weekend visits filled with laughter, teasing, and that comfortable kind of closeness only years of familiarity can build.

Until that summer. The summer everything shifted.

Chapter 16: The King's Advisor--What Are His Motives?

- what’s so special about the reception room? What is a reception room?

- I keep thinking I’m seeing a tattoo whenever I see Hibari’s committee band - as if boy would ever lol

- ahh chestnuts. I love how I recognize them for their pointy-ness these days- oh right. Why is reborn dressed as a chestnut again? Random bs go lol

- a hideout isn’t any better than secret base

- yk Hibari so far looks easy going. Like I don’t mean in vibes I mean his face literally looks like he’s chilling. He’s living his best life w low blood pressure idk.

- “I really want to bite them to death” Look at this guy’s close up of his eye. Brow unfurrowed, eye not-slanted lowkey relaxed and nonchalant, this guy’s just going about saying these things WITHOUT being angry about it- he’s just stating how it will be, he going to do it and it’s going to happen sorry he makes the rules.

- nyways. I’d also just like to say that hating herbivores that form groups is like. it’s what herbivores do. Get a better metaphor

- most focused I’ve seen hibari so far be when Tsuna manages to hit back

- ooh white eyes~ hibari meets reborn and is now Engaged with what’s happening

So hibari’s the type to lead his pack but only really get interested w strong opponents i see i see