One For Two / LN4 & OP81 / Part 2

girls when they lay on the horn to prove that it haunts them

How I used Psych-k to reprogram my limiting beliefs 

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What is Psych-k?

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ Psych-k is a process which changes subconscious beliefs that limits a person’s potential. It involves reshaping your beliefs into thoughts that can positively impact your life. 

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ This relates to manifestation because psych-k can help you identify limiting beliefs and reprogram these into thoughts that will benefit you. 

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Affirmations I used

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ Some of the affirmations that I’ve used include:

I let go of every limiting belief I have that no longer serves me 

I let go of every doubt I have that no longer serves me 

I do not identify with struggle anymore 

I’m allowed to believe new things about myself now 

Circumstances don’t matter to me, I’ll still manifest anything I want 

I manifest instantly 

͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ I do want to mention that a few of these affirmations came from @princessaffirms's why are you DEFENDING your LIMITING beliefs post. It's really insightful and I do recommend reading this if you want more information about limiting beliefs.

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My personal experience

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ First and foremost, before we go into the psych-k sessions and what to expect, I really recommend you do a test to see where you fall. 

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ There is many different tests you could do, but me personally I have done the o-ring test. Basically, you form a “O” with your thumb and the other finger, you should use your non-dominant hand with this. Then you would form a ring with your dominant hand and gently pull on the “O-ring.” Then say a limiting belief that you have out loud and do the test.

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ Here’s a video that details this -> ☕️

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ If it’s a strong response, the ring would not break apart. However, a weak response means the ring would break apart. If you produced a weak response, do this test again and ask your subconscious mind if you can integrate a new belief into them. If you have a weak response, I recommend you write it out using a journal or any writing program like Google Docs or Notes app. Basically with how I did it, I would write down a limiting belief but then I would provide a counterargument for that limiting belief.

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ Here's an example: "Manifesting takes forever for me." -> "Manifesting is instant for me."

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ Then I would write down all of my limiting beliefs and provide counterarguments for each one. Afterwards, I would do the test again and ask your subconscious mind if you can integrate a new belief. If you get a weak response, keep going and write out limiting beliefs that you have. If you have a strong response, you can test proceed to the session.

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ Now here's how I approach my psych-k sessions. First, I would create affirmations that I can use, these affirmations will basically be what you use during your sessions. Then I would record these affirmations using the Parrot app. Although I primarily use the Parrot app, you can also say these affirmations out loud. Then afterwards, I would find somewhere that is calm and you know there wouldn't be any distractions. Next, establish a position you would use, I personally did this position (here) but I crossed my legs instead of my ankles. I would want to add that you should do all 4 combinations to reach all the different parts of the brain. Then set a time limit, I personally reach for 5 minutes per combination but you can do more than that if you choose. Then after setting a time limit, I would start the session, whether that's looping your affirmations on Parrot or say them out loud.

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ After the session, First I would do this, that way you are saving the belief, Then I would do the O-ring test again and move on with your day. Now even with one session, you can produce a strong response, but you can do more sessions to solidify your beliefs if you choose to.

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ In my experience, after doing this, I noticed that manifestation wasn't a struggle for me anymore. I allowed myself to integrate this new belief into my subconscious mind and ever since I have gotten amazing results. So, please if you want to reprogram your beliefs, try this out and you will never look back!

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Resources I’ve used 

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ Here is some resources I've personally used when starting my journey.

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ Rewire Your Brain: PSYCH K Explained

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ PSYCH-K by @chaisshitposts 

  ͏˚˖𓍢ִ໋☕️ 4 MINTUE Reprogramming of the 'SUBCONSCIOUS MIND"

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[13.2k] the chalet was your home away from home in the festive season. but this year it may become the place you fall in love with the last person you expected. ft my very limited knowledge on how skiing works. (very lazy smut included)

.

Your family had always gone to The Chalet with the Montgomery’s for as long as you could remember. 

One spontaneous ski trip decades ago led your parents to start a tradition that would last through the generations. Every year, both families would fly out to the mountains of France to enjoy the festive season in the homely ski resort called The Chalet. Owned and ran by an elderly couple, it was the kind of place you would see in hallmark movies, or maybe even in a snowglobe. It was a place beyond your greatest winter wonderland dreams and imagination. The Chalet didn’t feel like a real place, and that was why the getaway every Christmas made the holiday so magical. 

It was your home away from home, a safe haven. It was the one place in the world where you could disappear from reality and embrace the isolation from society. 

At least, that was what the three weeks in the ski resort usually felt like. 

And after a year of moving away from home, starting a new job at the bottom of the food chain and dealing with more social circle drama than you ever intended to deal with, you craved nothing more than the simplicity and enjoyment The Chalet had to offer. You needed the break away from your life, a break away from the life you weren’t totally sure you had under control. 

You just wanted your home away from home, and instead when the families arrived at the resort, you were met with crowds of strangers swarming the place like a colony of buzzing, irritating bees. 

“What the hell?” You muttered once you had stepped out of the car, looking at the throng of people lingering outside the main entrance to the resort. 

“Apparently the place is booked out,” your mother noted from somewhere behind you as they began to unpack the bags from the boot of the car. “Madame Blanchet reserved our usual rooms when she started getting more and more bookings.” 

“Since when was this place overbooked?” You commented, a little blunter than intended. But it was hard to mask your surprise. A part of The Chalet’s charm was that it was a small, unknown ski resort hidden amongst the many that were established in the French Mountains. For as long as you could remember—hell, even before that—there hadn’t been more than ten or so families staying at the resort over the Christmas period. 

“Maybe Madame Blanchet finally learnt how to make a website,” a voice remarked from beside you, sounding quite amused by the mass of people, which shouldn’t have really surprised you. 

And just like you expected, you turned your head to find Harper Montgomery grinning widely at the crazy crowd like she was expecting it. She stood beside you with her hands on her hips, something about the bright ski suit looking so out of place, not that she acted as much. Every year, you swore The Chalet wasn’t ready for her and every year you were proven correct. 

“Considering the woman still has a dial phone, I am going to doubt the sudden online advertisement,” you snorted, shaking your head.

“Maybe this will be the Christmas we make new friends,” Harper noted, her head tilted to the side and her dark eyes scanning the crowd. “I am pretty sick of Mrs Hartford beating me at scrabble.”

Your lips twitched upwards. “Maybe you should stop challenging her then.”

Harper’s eyes narrowed. “Never.” 

“I still don’t get why so many people are waiting outside,” you grumbled as your eyes fell back to the crowd, noticing the way they were buzzing with some sort of excitement. “I don’t even think the lodge has enough rooms for this many people.” 

Harper hummed. “Maybe—”

“OH MY GOD!” 

Your eyes widened in alarm as you turned your head, seeing Evan standing a few feet away from you and Harper. The older Montgomery was gripping his phone, eyes full of adoration and awe as he grinned at his screen like a madman. He let out a high-pitched squeak, catching the attention of both families as they looked at him with varying looks of concern.

The blond finally lifted his head, oblivious to the worried looks as his grin seemingly widened. He thrusted a phone towards you and Harper, almost buzzing in his spot. “He’s here!”

Your brows furrowed together. “What?”

“He’s here!” Evan repeated, just as enthusiastic as the first time. “He is in our ski lodge! He’s here!” 

You still looked equally confused. “Who?” 

“His little man-crush,” Harper noted as she glanced down at his screen. 

“Charles Leclerc!” Evan sighed, almost dreamily as he hugged his phone to his chest. “We are spending Christmas with Charles Leclerc!” 

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, pushing past the boy to grab your suitcase so you could finally go check in. “For fuck’s sake, not your little driving guy.” 

“Hey,” Evan frowned. “He’s more than that.” 

“I have to listen to you talk about him for nine months of the year,” you remarked, though even that felt like an understatement. “Christmas is meant to be my free time from your little obsession. We made a deal.”

Evan blanched. “That was before I knew he was here!” 

“And now he’s ruining Christmas,” you grumbled bitterly, letting out a wince when you felt a pinch to your side.

“Don’t be such a grinch,” Harper teased. “Let him be a fanboy and spend his days on the slopes hunting the guy down. Don’t let it ruin your holiday.”

You snorted. “That will be hard when he is talking our ears off about Charles’ pretty green eyes or the way his hair looks after a race.”

“It’s fluffy!” Evan defended. “It’s unreal after a two hour race in a helmet!” 

“Whatever,” you muttered as you patted the boy on the chest as you moved past him. “You have him all to yourself, you won’t see me complaining about it.” 

Evan puffed his chest out. “You just can’t appreciate greatness.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” you waved him off. “I’m here to ski and relax. As long as this Charles guy keeps you and his little fanbase far away from me, I don’t care what he does.” There was a pause and Harper gave you a questioning look when she saw the glint in your eyes. “Even if he is overrated.”

Evan’s jaw dropped. “You did not just—”

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” You called out behind you as you grabbed Harper’s hand, dragging her towards the main entrance with you and letting your laughs echo through the reception as the boy swore up and down behind you.

…

You could have said that your resentment towards the Ferrari driver was purely based on how much Evan spoke about him during the racing season, but that would be a lie. 

It had started off that way when the boy finally made it into Formula One. Evan had been a motorsport fanatic from a young age, always eager to ramble away to you and Harper on various championships and seasons neither of you particularly cared about. As you got older, you learned to become more accepting and tolerant of the fact your Sundays would always be hijacked by whatever grand prix was occurring that weekend. 

However, when a young hot shot joined the sport that Evan had been following through the lower leagues, you didn’t realise just how quickly that tolerance would disappear until he was yapping your ear off after every single race. 

And truthfully? You didn’t get it. You didn’t get the sport in general, you didn’t understand what made a driver good or bad, and you didn’t understand the world’s obsession with Charles Leclerc as the years passed. To you, he just seemed like a pretty boy who enjoyed the spotlight of being the face of the sport. To you, he seemed like nothing more than a show pony. 

And no amount of debates and rants from Evan would change that. 

You wouldn’t have gone out of your way to say you hate Charles Leclerc, but you would say you were coming pretty damn close since you arrived at The Chalet.

The Chalet was bustling from the moment you opened your eyes to the moment you fell asleep. Wherever you went, it felt like you were pushing through a crowd to get from point A to point B. And the amount of times you had fans gripping your arm as you walked past, asking you if you had seen the Monegasque driver was starting to make you want to rip your own hair out. 

Yet, despite the buzz around the driver being in the lodge and the amount of fans circling the place through various hours of the day, you had yet to see the boy himself and that was something you were perfectly content with.

You had managed two blissful days before you crossed paths with Charles Leclerc. 

You had been taking too long to get ready so you assured Harper and Evan you would meet them at the slopes, insisting there was no need for them to wait for you. Both Montgomery’s—stubborn as ever—scoffed and told you they would be waiting for you in the lobby instead. 

You had been in a rushed state when you made your way towards the equipment valet, eager to just quickly hand your locker number over and collect your equipment. However, your path seemed to be blocked by a man standing in front of you, nose buried in his phone as he muttered in a language you didn’t quite understand. 

“Excuse me, do you mind if I just—” 

“Fucking hell,” the man swore, causing you to pause and frown at his back. 

You were taken aback, not expecting that response or the scoff that left his lips afterwards. And when he turned around, you were even more shocked when you realised you knew exactly who the rude man was—none other than Charles Leclerc. 

“Look, I appreciate that you are a devoted fan and I am grateful for the support, but I really don’t have time for pictures right now,” Charles continued and, to his credit, did look a little empathetic. Though, that didn’t take away from the underlying hostility in his words. “I am just here to enjoy my break. Please let me do so in peace.” 

You blinked, absolutely flabbergasted by his assumption. “Huh?”

The smile he gave you was almost condescending. “As a fan, I am sure you’d understand that I’d want a few days just free from the media and—”

And it seemed like only then did your brain catch up with the situation. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart, I am not a fan,” you stated as bluntly as you could, watching the boy’s face morph into something quite like confusion. As though he genuinely couldn’t compute the fact somebody wasn’t a fan of him. 

“What?”

“I was just trying to get my skis and you were standing in my way like a douche,” you said simply, watching as his brows furrowed closer together. “Which I would have felt bad for calling you before I realised who you were.”

“Who I was,” Charles repeated, still baffled as you pushed past him to do just as you said. 

“Hot shot who thinks everybody who breathes near him cares about who he is,” you supplied, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you now stood before him with your skis in hand. “Have a great day, Charles Leclerc.”

And the boy didn’t get a chance to say anything as you walked away, your mood positively ruined by the time you reached Evan and Harper in the lobby. They took one look at your sour mood and raised their brows in question, but you simply grumbled and waved them off, in no mood to repeat your interaction to Charles’ biggest sympathiser. 

Fortunately for the Montgomery siblings, your mood eased up by lunchtime and you were (mostly) over the whole interaction. 

…

Or at least, you were over the interaction until dinner came around. 

Dinner at The Chalet was like one massive family meal. With a large hall dedicated as the dining area, the Blanchet’s had set it up quite like a buffet system. There were tables of food bordering the room with tables dotted through the middle. Everyone sat on the round tables, in their little families and looking like a picture perfect scene for the final meal of the day. 

So of course your final meal of the day had to be ruined by an arrogant Monegasque who grinned at you like you two were old friends. 

“Ah, you! I’ve been looking for you.”

Truthfully, you wouldn’t have even realised he was talking to you if it weren’t for the fact the boy had stopped right beside you, practically looming over your shoulder as you tried to help yourself to some macaroni cheese.

You raised your brows, giving the boy a once-over before returning your attention to your plate. 

“Uh, hello,” Charles tried again, his brows furrowing together a little at the cold shoulder you gave him.

“Hi,” you stated simply, not wanting to spend any more moments with the Monegasque than you had to. 

“I wanted to apologise for earlier,” Charles continued, seeing your response as an open invite to a conversation. 

“Do you now?”  

“Yeah,” Charles nodded, a smile making its way onto his face as your sarcastic tone went completely over his head. “Listen, I really didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just—this is my holiday and I had no intention of my location being leaked. I just wanted a break from everything, you know? And I guess the frustrations of being bombarded for the last few days just got to me.” 

And truthfully speaking, a part of you sympathised with the boy. Though his fame reached levels you would never understand, The Chalet was your haven away from everything. It was a place where reality never seemed to touch, a place to escape. You could understand better than anyone what it was like to crave that feeling in your life. 

But just as you opened your mouth to say as much, Charles seemed to remind you exactly why you disliked him in the first place.

“And I just wanted to clear things up with you before the media found out and—” 

“So, you’re only apologising because you don’t want me running to journalists and ruining your image?” You interrupted, catching the boy off-guard as he gaped at you for a few seconds.

“Well, yes, it wouldn’t look good if I was harassing fans,” Charles said.

“But I’m not a fan,” you corrected him, gripping your plate in your hands. “And I certainly don’t care about shattering someone’s image for fifteen seconds of fame, no matter how much of a douche they are.”

Charles frowned. “I—” 

“You can take your apology and shove it up your ass, Charles,” you said, that sickly sweet smile on your face once again as you turned around to find whichever table your family were sitting at. But a hand reached out to softly grip your elbow and you turned to find Charles looking at you with a helpless expression. 

“I am sorry,” Charles said to you, something in his voice that you didn’t really understand. “But I also care about my image. Surely you can understand that.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you retorted as you tried to tug yourself free from his hold. 

Charles opened his mouth to reply, but a louder voice caught the attention of both of you. 

“STORMY! OVER HERE!” 

You felt your face heat up as you glanced over your shoulder, finding Evan sat amongst your family and his own as he waved you down. He had a shit-eating grin on his face (most likely from the fact he used the one nickname that he knew pissed you off more than anything else in front of everyone) and looked like he was about to do more when his gaze shifted to the man beside you. His jaw dropped, a comical expression on his face as he looked between you and Charles Leclerc.

“Stormy?” Charles repeated, looking over at you. 

You ignored his questioning gaze, instead narrowing your eyes at the hand still gripping your elbow. “Can you let me go now or is there more to your shitty apology?”

Charles opened his mouth once again, yet another person interrupted him before he got a chance.

“Charles? What’s taking you so long?”

Your eyes wandered to the girl who saddled up beside him, her expression light until she turned to look at you. Her gaze was calculated, her blue eyes seeming to size you up and something about the all white attire made you wonder if she was really playing into the Ice Queen vibes. 

“Another fan?” She sighed, as though your presence was the biggest inconvenience to her. “Honey, he can take pictures with you after dinner—”

“That’s fine, we’re done here,” you quickly corrected, ignoring the patronising tone in her voice or the way that Charles still looked like he had more to say. “I won’t be bothering either of you anytime soon.” 

You turned on your heels before either one of them had a chance to drag out the interaction any longer than it needed it to be. You weaved through the tables before making your way towards the table your family had chosen, settling yourself in the free seat beside Evan.

“That was Charles Leclerc!” 

You hummed, grabbing your fork as you began to dig in. “Unfortunately so.” 

“Dude, what the hell!” Evan hissed, pinching your side until you let out a small squeak and turned to him. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”

You frowned. “I don’t.”

“You were talking to him for ages!” Evan countered. 

“He was just being a dick,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Plus, that was probably the last time I’ll ever talk to him.” 

Harper snorted. “And you didn’t even get him an autograph.”

“Not that I would ask,” you prefaced before shaking your head. “But I doubt he would have given me one anyways. We…got off on the wrong foot.” 

“It’s Charles Leclerc,” Evan scoffed. “There is no wrong foot.” 

“Keep it in your pants, dickhead,” you teased, lightly pinching his side back in retaliation. “Even if I did get you an autograph, I would have shredded it after the Stormy stunt you just pulled.”

“But that’s your name,” Evan grinned.

“No, it’s what you called me for seven years because you couldn’t remember my name,” you retorted. 

“No, he remembered,” Harper piped in, a grin on her face that scarily matched her brother’s. “But with a temper like yours, Stormy just fits so much better.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. You both suck and so does Charles Leclerc.” 

“At least wait until dessert before you start insulting Evan’s boyfriend in front of him.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

…

You had expected that was the last time your path would ever cross with Charles Leclerc and, for the most part, it was. 

A few days passed and other than some awkward shared glances in the dining hall, you hadn’t found yourself caught in a conversation with the Ferrari driver after his attempted apology and you were intending to keep it that way until the end of your trip. You were happy to continue on with your holiday, even if you swore you could feel a pair of eyes watching you sometimes. 

However, it seemed like the universe was on a mission to get your hopes up before crumbling them back down again—and this time, it was in the form of another involuntary meeting with the Monegasque. 

You hadn’t even noticed the boy standing a few feet away from you with a group of his friends. You were stood next to Harper, listening to her ramble away as you waited in line for the ski lift to take you to the top of the mountain. It was fairly early, most of the resort residents still enjoying their breakfast inside which meant the queue wasn’t very long. You had been eager to get out on the snow early after being one of the last in the passing days. 

However, whilst you failed to notice the driver, it seemed like Harper had. 

She watched the boy continuously glance over at you, like he was eager to catch your eye. She watched as he slowly shuffled closer, like he was trying to gain the confidence to jump into the conversation. She watched Charles Leclerc act like a hopeless fool, and it was somewhat endearing to witness.

And maybe—just maybe—she was in the mood for some drama that the vacation in the ski resort very rarely gave her. 

You were already settled in your spot when you felt someone shuffling in the seat next to you. You felt the comfort bar come down and you turned with a smile, ready to continue your conversation with your best friend when you realised your best friend was not the person sitting next to you. 

No, it was Charles Leclerc. 

Your head whirled around, finding Harper standing in the queue with a grin on her face. You shot her a look, one that spoke more than a thousand words on just how you felt about her betrayal. However, the girl just laughed and waved you off as the lift began moving and it was far too late to get off. 

Your attention shifted to the boy beside you again, noticing the sheepish expression on his face and you let out a sigh. 

It was fine. Totally fine. The ski lift took around ten minutes to get to the top of the mountain. That was hardly anything, practically a blink of an eye if you were being honest. It would be a quick ride up, you wouldn’t even have to talk to him and you could easily ignore him by the time you made your way back down the mountain. It was all going to be so, so fine.

“So, uh, how are you this morning?” 

And suddenly, even a second felt like ten years passing. 

You kept your head facing forward, hoping the boy would catch the hint that you weren’t interested in small talk and would also remain silent. Though, considering the fact he was fidgeting in his seat, you doubted the boy could keep quiet for longer than thirty seconds.

“The weather is great, right?”

Your brows furrowed together. The weather? Really?

“The pancakes were also really good at breakfast this morning. Did you have any?” He continued, only pausing for a moment when he realised you were making a point of not answering him. “Stormy?”

One simple word and that was enough for you to break your silence.

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, a little harsher than you truly intended but the sentiment remained.

Charles blinked. “You don’t want me to call you your name?”

“It’s not my name,” you replied. 

He blinked again. “But in the dining hall—”

“It’s a nickname—one that Evan likes to wind me up with because he thinks I’m moody,” you explained before realising the boy didn’t really deserve an explanation. Not when you were adamant to keep this conversation short. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Well, I can see where he gets it from,” Charles said with a small snort. 

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

Seeming to realise what he said and just how it sounded out loud, it was almost comical to watch Charles’ lips part before he awkwardly gaped at his previous comment. “Not like that! I just meant—”

“Whatever,” you muttered as you turned to face forwards again, pleading for the lift to somehow reach the top of the mountain already.

“Look, I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I intended this to go,” Charles admitted, almost sounding a bit pained when he said it, as though he wasn’t used to admitting he was wrong. “I wanted to properly apologise. I shouldn’t have been so rude to you, and I definitely shouldn’t have brushed it off as anything except how you felt.” 

You paused, brows furrowing together as you turned to face him with a curious expression.

Charles blinked. “What?”

“I was just waiting to see if there was a ‘but’ coming,” you confessed.

“No buts,” he assured, pausing for a moment before his cheeks burned pink. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s it.”

You let out a sigh, wishing that some part of you was suspicious about his apology but you weren’t. He sounded genuine, and as much as you wanted to—and still partially did—believe he was a bit of a pompous prick, you couldn’t fault that his apology seemed sincere.

“I accept your apology,” you said, your voice a little strained before you continued. “And I’m also sorry for being a bit of a bitch.”

Charles’ lips parted. “Oh no, you weren’t—”

“I was a little,” you said, your lips twitching upwards as the boy gave you a nervous smile. “I can assure you I won’t be telling any gossip pages about what an asshole Charles Leclerc is.” 

He actually laughed in response, despite the fact that alone would probably make his PR team bury him six feet under before the next season started. “I appreciate that, Stormy.”

You glowered at the nickname, but it only seemed to make the Monegasque laugh harder. 

…

Despite the exchange of apologies on the ski lift, you expected that to be your last proper interaction with Charles. 

You were also quickly realising that every time—so far—you had assumed as much, you would find yourself face to face with the driver once again. And this time was no different, except it came much earlier than a few days. It happened later that very same day.

You had made your way into the dining hall, grabbing a plate and beginning to survey the large buffet when you felt the warmth of another person standing beside you. You felt a hand brush your arm and turned to find Charles smiling at you. 

“Bonjour, mon ami.” 

You blinked. “What?”

His smile widened. “It means—”

“No, I know what it means,” you quickly corrected, shaking your head a little. “I just…didn’t realise we were friends.”

Charles’ brows furrowed together. “Why wouldn’t we be? I thought we had made up on the ski lift.” 

“Yes but, other than that, we are strangers,” you said to him like it was obvious—and to you, it was. Beyond a few misunderstandings and awkward apologies, the man in front of you was as much a friend to you as any of the other guests in the lodge.

“Well, we can change that now!” He said, and that smile returned to his face. “Turn over a new book or whatever the saying is.” 

Much to your own surprise, you found yourself laughing a little at his response. “Charles, I—”

“STORMY, HURRY UP OR I AM DRINKING YOUR WINE!” 

Both your and Charles’ head snapped over to Evan who was holding a wine glass in each hand, a large smile plastered on his face and a twinkle in his eyes that promised mischief. His hair was still wet from the shower he took before dinner, meaning it was slick back and giving him an almost wannabe Bond villain look. 

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned back to look at the driver. Only you found Charles still looking in Evan’s direction, something contemplative and almost begrudging in his gaze. 

“You okay?”

Charles turned to face you, and it took a mere second for the glare to disappear and be replaced with his bright smile once again. “Yeah, of course. It seems like you’re wanted elsewhere though.”

“He’s a menace,” you said, playfully rolling your eyes but the fondness was clear in your voice. “I love him even if he’s a pain in the ass.”

Charles only let out a contemplative hum as a goodbye as you headed towards the table where your family and the Montgomery’s were sitting. And maybe if you looked over at him as much as he did with you over the course of the dinner, you would have seen Charles looking a little too bitter every time your eyes were on Evan instead of him.

…

A week had passed in the resort and the Christmas spirit was starting to truly spread as the festive holiday quickly approached. 

Your parents and the Montgomery parents had decided to pass on the slopes, instead choosing to visit infamous glacier caves that had been advertised and talked about by some locals in the lodge. You, Harper and Evan had declined the offer to join them, though the excitement of no parents being around—despite the fact all three of you were firmly in your twenties—seemed to spark a shift in energy in Evan that could only be described as childlike. 

“I have a proposition.” 

Harper already let out a groan, tilting her head back as she did. You couldn’t see her eyes beneath her goggles, but you imagined she was rolling them. “God, no.”

Evan frowned. “You haven’t even heard it yet.”

“Your ideas are shit,” Harper said to her brother. “And usually dangerous.”

“No, they aren’t,” Evan scoffed.

You shrugged. “You don’t have a great track record, if we are being honest.”

“Whatever,” Evan grumbled before grinning at the two of you. “First two to reach the bottom wins. Sabotaging each other’s run is allowed. Loser has to do the forfeit.” 

Your eyes narrowed. “What’s the forfeit?” 

“Loser has to streak in the snow,” he grinned.

“I am not streaking in the snow,” Harper scoffed.

“Then, you better hope you win,” the older Montgomery countered with a grin. 

And begrudgingly, you and Harper agreed to his childish idea.

It wasn’t the first time a silly competition between the three of you got out of hand, and you truly doubted it would be the last. With no rules set and no parents to even try to intervene, it didn’t take very long before the competition got dirty and the run down the slopes became more chaotic. 

You had been running behind Harper, secure in second place and watching her movements closely to look for any weakness that you could exploit. However, you had failed to realise that Evan—who had been running behind after he almost skied into a group of people—was quickly catching up on you. 

You didn't realise until it was too late.

You let out a noise of surprise when you found the boy right by your side, one that quickly became a series of curses when you realised what he was doing. You tried to move away when you noticed him turning into you, but you were too slow and it only put you in a worse position when his pole lodged itself between your skis. 

He was long gone by the time you tumbled into the snow, cackling loudly as he went. You let out a groan of frustration as you turned until you were lying on your back. You winced a little as you tried to awkwardly scramble up onto your feet in hopes of catching up with the Montgomery siblings, but the second a bit of pressure was placed on your ankle, you were crying out in pain and your ass hit the snow once again.

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself as you sat in the snow, tears welling in your lash line at the shot of pain up your leg. 

“Cherie!” 

You lifted your head when you noticed someone skidding to a stop beside you. You blinked at them in a moment of confusion, but the second they removed their goggles and pulled down their mask, you found Charles—or at least, a very worried and concerned version of him—looking down at you. 

He took you in, noticing the glossy sheen to your eyes before he turned back to look over his shoulder, letting out a string of curse words that you were certain were not in English before his attention returned to you.

“Are you okay? What hurts? Is something broken? Should I call for them to send a helicopter—” 

“Charles,” you quickly interrupted the rambling boy. “I’m fine. I’ve probably just sprained my ankle.” 

“Yeah, because of him,” Charles grumbled, mostly under his breath like he had no real intention for you to hear the snide remark.

“It was a joke,” you waved him off, but that only seemed to upset the boy further.

“A joke?” He repeated, his eyes widening in disbelief. “You’re hurt. It’s hardly a funny joke.”

“Charles, calm down.”

The boy just scoffed, shaking his head before he lodged his poles into the snow, keeping them off the main trail before he turned to you and offered his hand. 

You looked at him expectantly. 

“Let me help you get down to the lodge,” he said in as calm a voice as he could manage. 

“Charles—” You began, but he wasn’t having it.

“No, cherie, I am not going to leave you here when you’re injured and alone,” he said, emphasising the last word in particular as he glanced around, almost like he had to remind you that Harper and Evan were most likely at the bottom of the slope by now. 

“Fine,” you said with a sigh, taking his gloved hand in yours as you allowed him to pull you up, keeping your weight on him with ease. “This doesn’t mean we are friends though, Charles.”

He only grinned at you, the first time he seemed a little more like himself since he stopped to check on you.

“Whatever you want to say, Stormy.”

…

As expected, you had sprained your ankle and were advised to take it easy for the next few days. 

And you were banned from hitting the slopes in fear of making the sprain worse. 

You wanted to be annoyed about the situation—and a small part of you was—but honestly, a few days in the lodge with some peace and quiet seemed like a dream. As much as you loved your family and the Montgomery’s, you needed a break from how loud and giddy and excited they were.

And as the days quickly approached Christmas, it felt like a nice relief to have some time to yourself before the festivities truly took over. 

You had waved them off after breakfast with a smile, teasing them not to miss you too much as they headed towards the slopes. Evan had offered to stay inside with you, even just for today, because of the guilt that he was the one to put you in the position. But you just rolled your eyes, assuring him you were more than happy to sit by the fireplace by the foyer and enjoy a day where you didn’t have to fall flat on your ass in the snow. 

You had been a few chapters into your book, curled up on the couch with your ankle elevated on a pillow with a blanket thrown over you when Charles and his friends made their way downstairs, prepped and ready with the intentions of heading out to the slopes. 

But the boy spotted you and found his feet moving in a different direction. 

“Stormy!”

You lifted your head, unable to even find it in yourself to be annoyed by his constant use of the nickname when he had a pretty smile on his face whenever he said it. He was bundled up in layers, probably on his way to the equipment kiosk before he headed for the lift. He looked comical next to the fire.

“My knight in shining armour,” you greeted, a teasing tilt in your voice but the boy missed it as he took in your appearance. “You look warm.”

“You’re staying in today?” 

You nodded. “Doc’s orders.”

“Alone?” 

You nodded once again. “I told the others they could—”

“I’ll stay with you!”

He said it so quickly that it took you a few seconds before you realised just what he had said. You blinked, your brows furrowing in confusion. “You’re at a ski resort and you don’t want to go skiing?”

“I’ve been skiing every day since I got here,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “I can handle not skiing for a day.”

You flashed him a smile. “It’s fine, you don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” he countered, the words passing his lips with ease.

You hated the way your chest tightened a little at his words. “Oh.”

Charles smiled at your response. 

“Charles, hurry up!” 

You missed the way his brows furrowed together at the voice when you turned to look at the woman standing a few feet away, looking impatient and slightly annoyed. It was the same woman from the other week, the one that looked a little too much like the cold weather personified. You had learnt over the passing days her name was Melanie, but that was about as far as your knowledge on the woman went, other than her clear attitude. 

Charles let out a sigh before he replied, a slightly more strained smile on his face. “Go on without me. I’m gonna stay in the lodge today.”

Melanie frowned. “Why?”

“Because I want to,” Charles stated simply, and the repeated words made your chest feel funny again. 

Melanie glanced over at you and then Charles, and then back to you again. Her eyes were narrowed and her glare felt icy, but before she could even think of saying anything, a friend from the group was calling out to her and she had no choice but to join them. 

Charles turned back to you, an easy smile on his lips once again. “So…what’s the plan?” 

You snorted. “To sit here because I’m practically bedbound, unless I want to hobble somewhere.” 

Charles pressed his lips together. “Well, sitting by the fire with no hot chocolate is sacrilege.” 

Your nose scrunched up. “But I don’t have cookies. Hot chocolate by itself isn’t fun without homemade Christmas cookies.”

“Then we will make them,” Charles said.

You rolled your eyes. “And where are we making them? In our rooms with a kettle, tap water and no other ingredients?”

“Please,” Charles said with a scoff, a glint in his eyes as he looked down at you with a proud glint in his eyes. “I am Charles Leclerc. I have my ways.”

You weren’t sure what strings he pulled, who he bribed or just what he blackmailed the lodge owners with, but you were filled with a sort of unease when Charles returned twenty minutes later. He had changed out of his heavy ski gear into a pair of jeans and a sweater that looked insanely cosy. And he had told you that he needed you to close your eyes, to trust him enough to carry you to the destination with a promise that all the drama would be worth it.

He looked so damn proud when he brought you to the lodge’s kitchen with bowls and whisks and ingredients sprawled across the counter—it made that funny feeling in your chest return. 

“How did you manage this?” You asked, an incredulous laugh leaving your lips when he sat you on the counter. 

“I’m Charles Leclerc, I can get anything I want,” he said, and once upon a time, you would have rolled your eyes and thought he was a pompous dick. You still thought he was a little cocky, but it was an endearing trait now. 

You raised your brows. “Do you, Charles Leclerc, know how to bake?”

“Nope,” he said honestly but he was still smiling. “But I am sure I can make something edible with you guiding me.”

“Smooth,” you snorted. “Don’t blame me if they taste like shit.”

As it would turn out, Charles had an overbearing need to be in control of everything. You guessed it came with the lifestyle, the fact his life is always in the palm of his own hands whenever he sat in a car that raced hundreds of miles an hour. However, it seemed like it also extended to the Monegasque ignoring your very clear and correct instructions to do something he insisted was the right way.

“In what fucking world do you need that much sugar?” You remarked, lips parted in shock as you watched the boy add more. 

“They are sugar cookies, cherie, it’s in the name,” Charles retorted.

“That doesn’t mean the batter should be seventy-five percent sugar!” You huffed as you reached over to try and grab the bag of sugar from him. “You are going to make us both diabetic with one of those damn cookies. Don’t you have a diet you are meant to be following?” 

Charles only grinned, a little mischievous. “Yeah but it’s Christmas.”

You shook your head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“And you’re bossy,” he countered. 

“And I’m right,” you insisted as you frowned at the batter, wondering if it would be easier to just toss it out and start again. “It’s not my fault you don’t have the ego to handle it.”

“Or your ego can’t handle the challenge,” Charles said, something shining in his eyes like his words had a hidden meaning you couldn’t quite understand. “Tell me you don’t like it.”

You tilted your head a little. “You think you’re the only man to talk back to me, Leclerc?”

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “I would like to think I’m the best.” 

You couldn’t ignore the way his eyes darkened, the way it seemed to surge some sort of competition inside him. You couldn’t help but want to play on his fragile male ego a little more.

“And if I said you weren’t?” You questioned, pressing your lips together in a poor attempt to hide your smirk. 

Charles breathed out of his nose, his jaw clenching a little before he replied. “Then I would say Evan is a lucky man to have you.”

And just like that, your smirk dropped. 

“What?” 

Charles frowned a little. “I would say Evan is a lucky man,” he repeated, the words sounding a little forced as they left his lips. “You two seem like…a great match even if he does leave you abandoned on a ski slope after—”

“Oh my god, no!” You blanched, your shoulders hunching up to your ears as you shook your head. “Ew, no! Absolutely not!”

Charles blinked. “Huh?”

“Me and Evan—” You swallowed hard, unable to even get the words out. “It’s not like that between us. I have known him forever, he’s like a brother to me.” 

“Oh,” Charles murmured, taking a few seconds before he grinned. “Oh!” 

“Yeah, oh,” you grumbled.

Charles couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. “So, you aren’t—”

“Nope.”

“With Evan or anyone?”

“No one.”

“Good.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes at the giddiness written across his face. If someone told you it was Christmas morning, you would have believed them. “Subtle, Charles.”

“Subtle is my middle name.”

…

The next day, you met Charles by the foyer fireplace, but this time he was prepared with his own book. 

The day after, he was there again but both your books were quickly abandoned as you chatted away. 

The day after that, neither of you bothered to bring your books down. 

Despite your insistence that he should be out on the slopes enjoying his vacation and the downtime he had in between seasons, Charles was adamant that he was doing exactly what he deemed relaxing. And just like he said earlier, Charles Leclerc gets what he wants—and it seemed he wanted to spend his days huddled in the lodge with you. 

Everyone noticed the budding relationship between you and Charles, but nobody said a word. Well, your family and the Montgomery parents didn’t say a word. Harper and Evan on the other hand? They wouldn’t leave you alone.

Harper was cackling at the irony. She was throwing your words back in your face, teasing the way seemed to switch your opinion on the Monegasque driver in the span of a week and looked down right smitten for the boy. She teased you over the fact it took you almost two months before you went on a date with your ex-boyfriend, and here you were having daily fireplace dates with the boy you called an asshole less than a week ago. She was embracing her full right as your best friend to annoy the fuck out of you. 

Evan was a whole other story. The boy looked like a kicked puppy every time you came back from hanging out with Charles, only to tell him you didn’t get him an autograph nor did you bring into the conversation how cool he was or how amazing he was or how he and Charles would totally get on if you introduced them. You didn’t have the heart to tell the boy that up until seventy-two hours ago, Charles didn’t like him through a bizarre assumption.

It had been constant and annoying, but in a way that made your heart feel full because you knew no matter what, at least those two would support every decision you made. Even if they got unbearable during the meal times where Charles would find any excuse to come talk to you. 

Tonight was no different as he approached you with a smile spread across his face and something dangerous and promising shining in his eyes. You were sitting at the table alone whilst everyone else headed towards the tables to fill their plates—yours in Harper’s hand—and you were grateful for the small moment of peace as he leaned down. 

“Missing me already?” You teased. 

He shrugged, though he didn’t disagree. “I have a very important message for you.” 

You raised your brows in question. “Oh?” 

Instead of saying anything, the boy just grinned wider and handed you a small piece of paper. You frowned a little at it, looking up at him in confusion but the boy was already taking a few steps away from your table.

“Charles—”

But the boy just winked before turning on his heel, heading back to the table the rest of his friends were sitting at, where they were probably watching the whole interaction even if they tried to make it seem like they weren’t. 

You glanced down at the note in your hand, lips turned downwards as you opened the folded paper. It baffled you that he couldn’t just say what he had written down, but another part of you warmed a little at the idea that he had taken the time to write the note and go through with it—regardless of it being a bit silly. 

You couldn’t bite back your smile when you read the note. 

meet me @ midnight. my room number is 161. wear something cosy :) 

You snorted, shaking your head as every cell in your body thrummed in excitement to meet the boy you once hated later that night. 

…

“The note was cute, but I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just ask me to hang out.” 

“Because that’s not fun.”

“You just handed me the note, that’s hardly any different.”

“It was like a real life text, cherie. It’s how they used to do it back in the day.”

You snorted in response. 

You had listened to his advice, deciding that a hoodie and pyjama bottoms were the way to go as you snuck up to the floor he was staying at. Your knuckles had barely grazed the door before it was yanked open, a grinning boy on the other side. He was dressed in a baggy hoodie and grey sweatpants, his hair pushed back with a bandana and a pair of glasses sat on his nose.

He didn’t even give you a chance to say anything before he was dragging you inside.

It should have been obvious that Charles Leclerc of all people would have a suite but truthfully, you hadn’t even realised the lodge had master suites as big as this one. But it did. And it was huge. And you expected nothing less for the Monegasque. 

There were multiple different rooms that veered off the large living room: one that was furnished with a massive tv, soft plush sofas and a large fireplace that looked like it was straight out the front of a Christmas card. Surprisingly, it was decorated for the festive season with even a tree settled in the corner between the armchairs. It felt homely. It felt perfect for this midnight meeting. 

However, you didn’t get much of a chance to look around before he was dragging you out onto the balcony. There was a loveseat set up with pillows and blankets, and a small table set with hot chocolate and a plate of cookies (ones he assured you he had the chef make fresh). 

“I never took you to be so traditional,” you teased, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders as a light breeze hit you. “But I guess you have to make do since you haven’t even asked for my number.”

Charles raised his brows. “Is that your subtle way of telling me to hurry up and ask for it?” 

“Subtle is my middle name,” you retorted, his own repeated words thrown back in his face but they seemed to light a spark inside him. 

Charles’ eyes dropped to your lips for a few passing beats before they returned to your eyes, and you saw everything written in them. This was different to the days you had spent down in the foyer. Everyone could see you both. You could see everyone. It was public and out in the open and exposed. 

But here?

It was just you and him and the pretty night sky that shone and glittered with stars. You were away from the world, from reality. You were away from your family and friends. You were away from peering eyes and judgemental looks. You were in a bubble you never wanted to leave, huddled in thick wool blankets and desperately hoping he would close the minimal distance between you both. 

His lips were a hairbreadth away from brushing against yours when another breeze caressed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine that momentarily jolted you away from him.

“You’re cold,” he noted, though it was pretty obvious when you two were both outside in minimal layers. “Let’s get inside. We can warm up by the fire.”

And a part of you wanted to scream off the balcony into the French Mountains when he stood up, when the moment broke and his lips weren’t against yours. But as angry as you wanted to be, you were grateful when he guided you to sit in front of the fire as he added more wood to the dying embers.

His thigh was brushing against yours when he settled into the spot beside you on the floor, his cheeks tinted pink from the cold as he grinned at you before holding his hands out to the fire. You laughed, following suit and the conversation from moments before the almost-kiss returned. 

However, minutes passed and your body was still racked with small shivers that Charles quickly picked up on.

“C’mere,” he murmured as he lifted his arm, giving you little time to dispute (not that you were going to) as he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you into his side.

You didn’t think about it too much as you buried yourself into his embrace, as you pressed your cheek into his hoodie and enjoyed the way his hand seemed to leave a trail of heat wherever he touched. 

“If I get hypothermia and die, I’m coming back to haunt you and your sugar cookies,” you grumbled, though it was lighthearted as you pressed your nose further into the fabric of his hoodie. 

His chest shook underneath you as he laughed and tightened his hold on you. “I would never let anything happen to you, Stormy.”

“You and that stupid nickname,” you said as you let out a long sigh. “You know my actual name now. You have no excuse to use it.”

“Yeah, but it suits you,” Charles retorted, letting out a small noise of surprise when your cold fingers pinched his side. “Plus, you get this…uh, what’s the word…cute look on your face when you’re angry.” 

Your head snapped up to glare at him. “I don’t look cute when I’m angry.”

His face brightened. “Yes! That face! C’est mignon!"

Your eyes narrowed further. “Don’t pull the cute French card, it’s not gonna help you.”

“You think my French is cute?” Charles replied, his laugh echoing through the suite as you rolled your eyes.

“You drivers and your egos,” you grumbled.

“Have a lot of experience with drivers?” Charles questioned, a hint of something unreadable in his voice.

You snorted, both of you knowing the answer to that question but you played along. “Maybe I do.” 

His eyes darkened slightly. “What about kissing them?”

And just like that, Charles Leclerc had left you speechless for what felt like the millionth time since you met him.

His gaze was locked on your lips, the crackling of the fire felt like it was booming through the silent room and you were truly wondering if your heart was going to burst through your chest and splat on the floor in front of you both. 

“I can’t say I have much experience in that department,” you admitted once you managed to choke your words out.

His lips twitched upwards. “Would you like some experience, Stormy?” 

You didn’t know if you nodded or if he just took the signs of your flustered, stuttering mess and took mercy on you. You didn’t know if his hand reached to cup your face first or if it was your hand on the nape of his neck instead. You didn’t know if it was you moaning lowly into the kiss when his tongue darted out or if it was him. 

Kissing Charles Leclerc was overwhelming and world-altering and, truthfully, you didn’t think you could even utter your own name if someone asked you at that moment. 

“Merde,” he groaned before he kissed you harder, faster, more passionately. His other hand reached for your waist, those muscles hidden under his baggy hoodie put to good use as he hauled you onto his lap.

Your knees sat on either side of his hips, your ass firmly planted on his lap as the new position allowed you to fully wrap your arms around his neck. The boy’s hands dropped to your waist, squeezing and guiding as your hips shifted in his lap as his kisses left you seeking anything he would give you.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted when he had to pull away, when his lungs were burning for air. But you still wanted more, you sought out to keep hearing those pretty noises he made as your lips trailed down his neck. “So fucking long.”

“You took your time,” you muttered between open-mouthed kisses when his hold tightened as your lips passed a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear.

“You hated me for a majority of the time we’ve known each other,” he managed to utter out, his head falling back as your teeth lightly grazed his skin.

“Does it look like I hate you now?” You retorted, something about the back and forth feeling as thrilling and exciting as his fingers fiddling with the hem of your hoodie.

Charles’ eyes caught yours as you lifted your head from his neck, lips red and swollen and fuck, he wanted to kiss you again. “I think I need a little more convincing.”

“Yeah?” You watched as he nodded, a little too eager but it made your stomach twist in the best way possible. “Well, you did promise to keep me warm.”

“I did,” he murmured, his voice a little rough and husky.

“Warm me up, Leclerc,” you whispered as you leaned down to kiss him again, his hands squeezing your waist before your lips even touched. “And then I’ll decide if I hate you still.”

A choked noise of surprise left your lips when Charles suddenly moved. You were no longer sitting on his lap, but instead had been laid back on the floor with the boy now hovering over you. He flashed you a smile, one twisted with promises that made your chest feel tight.

You waited for him to lean down and kiss you again. You waited to feel his heated touch on your body. You waited for him to finally slide his hands under the fabric of your hoodie, to feel his fingers along your bare skin. 

But instead, he just looked at you with so much fondness in his eyes.

“What?” You questioned, and suddenly the idea of being naked underneath him was no longer the most exposed you felt.

“Nothing,” he said simply as he shook his head. “Just…wanted to make sure.”

Your brows furrowed together. “Of what?”

“That you’re okay with this,” Charles said as he finally lifted his hand, as he let his fingers brush across the apple of your cheek. You could feel your skin heating up underneath his touch. “I want you to know that I’m happy to just talk. I don’t want you to think I just invited you here to—”

“Charles,” you interrupted, and the boy fell quiet as his cheeks flushed pink. “I want to.”

He tried to bite back his smile. “Yeah?”

You laughed, nodding. “Yeah.”

And despite the reassurance and despite the heat in your body that just wanted to throw your legs over the boy and ride him until the sun came up, Charles Leclerc was nothing, if not a gentleman. And something about that made it so much hotter. 

His touch was always so confident but gentle. The way his lips pressed against yours, the way his tongue caressed yours as his fingers slowly peeled away the layers of clothes between the two of you. The way he paused to set down pillows and a blanket to make it comfier for you before his fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and discarding them someplace else.

The way you reached down to cup his bulge in his boxers, prepared to slip your hand beneath the elastic of his boxers and stroke the length of him—only to have your hands batted away. You barely got a chance to question him before his kisses silenced you, before they began moving south and you felt his lips on every inch of your exposed skin that he could reach. 

You felt breathless by the time he was between your legs. You felt like your head was spinning with pleasure as he hooked his arms around your thighs and happily settled between them. You felt like you were in some sugar cookie induced dream as you glanced down, catching his eager eyes watching every little move and reaction you made.

The fire was roaring a few feet away, loud and proud and yet, it was his touch and whispered words that made your whole body feel like lava was coursing through your veins. It was the way his tongue swiped and licked your needy pussy, the way his lips wrapped around your clit until your back was arching off the ground. It was the way Charles murmured soft praises as his hands reached out for yours, as he intertwined your fingers and softly squeezed as you came on his tongue once, twice until you felt like a pile of bones. 

It was the way he smiled down at you like his face wasn’t glistening with your release. The way he leaned down to kiss you with the taste of yourself still on his tongue. It was the way he was fully prepared to leave it there, let you rest, spend the rest of the night listening to the random rants he could coax out of you. 

Charles only let out a surprised noise when you pushed him onto his back, as you straddled him like you fantasised about earlier and reached between your bodies to squeeze his aching cock.

You knew Charles Leclerc was pretty, even in the days where you thought you despised the man. It was an undeniable fact that he was easy on the eyes, that he was gorgeous, that he had one of those faces that didn’t make him feel like he was a real human. 

But he was undoubtedly prettier when you were sinking down on his cock, walls squeezing him as his lips parted to let out a string of curse words in a handful of languages you didn’t speak. 

His hands were all over you, his lips never stopped moving  and all it took was a slight lapse in your tempo as you rocked back and forth for the boy to grip your hips, hold you up with ease and fuck up into you.

You were a puddle on his chest, his lips right beside your ear as he whispered filthy words to you. His hands and kisses were gentle when it felt like you could feel his cock in your throat from how deep inside he was. Charles Leclerc was a fucking enigma that you didn’t ever want to work out. 

And even after he did most of the work, even after he was breathless and flushed and fucked out, you were still the first thing on his mind. Your comfort, your pleasure, just you.

“Cherie,” he murmured softly, the accent seeming a little thicker as he spoke. “We should move to the bed.”

“No,” your words muffled as you nuzzled yourself further into his chest, content where you were with your legs tangled together and your naked bodies pressed together. “I’m comfy here. Beside you.”

“Okay,” was all he said in response as he pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head and pulled the blanket over the both of you before holding you closer—if that was even possible.

…

The first thing you noted when you woke up was how comfortable the ground felt beneath you.

The second thing was that you were no longer on the floor, but on a very comfy bed with a mattress that felt like it was a cloud.

Your hand blindly reached out to your side, expecting to feel a solid, warm body and probably a disgruntled curse from a certain Monegasque, but it never came. Your brows furrowed together, your hand continuing to pat the bed but it felt cold under your touch. 

For a short moment, you wondered if you had dreamt it all. You wondered if it was just a hyper-realistic dream where you swore you could still feel his touch on you, if it was all a part of your imagination. 

And then, from the other side of the door, you heard a voice. 

Your lips unknowingly tilted upwards as you sat up in bed, the sheet falling to your waist as you did. You stretched out your limbs, moving with no real rush as you grabbed the first piece of clothing you could find—a shirt of Charles’ that rested at your thighs—before making your way towards the door. 

You pushed the door open, expecting to find him lounging on the couch as he talked away to whoever he was on the phone with, but he wasn’t. You leaned your head out, peeking around to instead finding him on the balcony, the door still open to let his voice and a chilly breeze carry through into the suite.

You contemplated bracing the cold and making your way towards the balcony, to wrap your arms around his waist and settle into the warmth of him as he finished his call. Your hand moved to pull the door open wider, but then the muffled voice became actual words and you froze.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me. She never has. Why should I care now?”

You frowned a little. 

“I was doing her a favour, for no other reason.”

Your stomach churned, but you tried to ease your thoughts that were threatening to spiral.

“I’m not going to ever see her again after this trip, what’s the big deal anyways?”

But that? That was your final straw.

You felt sick to your stomach as you rushed around the room, staying as silent as you could as you redressed yourself. Your head felt like it was spinning, like you couldn’t even keep up with your own thoughts. You wanted to feel angry and spiteful, and maybe you did. 

But most of all, you just felt disappointed. 

In yourself. In the situation. In the man you thought Charles Leclerc was. 

You were fighting down the bile that felt like it was rising up your throat when you finally slipped out of his suite. He was still on the phone, still on the balcony when you left. And he probably wouldn’t even realise you were gone until you were safely back in your own room, where you could let everything hit you at once and let the tears threatening to spill finally fall. 

You didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t want to believe he was that kind of guy, another asshole that you had laid yourself out in front of, only for it to be thrown back in your face. You wanted to believe he was the gentleman you saw, touched and kissed last night. 

But the truth of the matter was that Charles Leclerc was just another name on your list of men who disappointed you, and you didn’t want to see his stupid, perfect face ever again.

…

Charles was absolutely fucking baffled. 

He felt like he was missing a key bit of information in his own life, and no matter how many times he replayed the last week or so in his head, he couldn’t work out what he was doing wrong. 

After a season of disappointing races and a team that played with his strategy like a fucking water balloon being thrown around by a group of toddlers, Charles wanted an escape. He wanted a place away from journalists and fans and everyone who even knew who he was. He just wanted a break from his own life.

The vacation at The Chalet was meant to just be that, but it became so much more.

For the first time in a long time, Charles felt like himself again. He felt happy. He was excited for the new year, he was excited for the future, he was excited for what possibly lay ahead of him. He felt like he was in some dream, but it wasn’t a dream. It was his reality and he woke up every day eager to know what amazing thing would happen to him—to know what amazing day he would have with you.

But that dream seemed to crumble into pieces when he realised you were ignoring him.

He didn’t try to take it too personally when he headed back into the bedroom that morning, his cheeks tinted pink from the cold weather but eager to spend a few lazy hours with you in between the sheets. He was eager to make you smile and maybe kiss you, maybe do something more.

But disappointment hit his chest when he saw the empty room. 

He just assured himself that you probably had to head back to your room before your family and friends woke up, or maybe you wanted to freshen up. He assured himself he would see you at breakfast and everything would be fine. 

But it wasn’t fine because you weren’t at breakfast. He waited in case you came at the end, but you didn’t. 

He waited for you at the usual spot in the foyer, but you never came.

He waited for you at lunch and dinner too, but you never came. 

The next day, he almost expected the same and was preparing himself to ask one of your friends if you were okay, but he was shocked to find you sitting in your usual place at breakfast. He smiled at you, something in his chest easing as he made a step in your direction, but the dirty glare you sent his way was enough to make him stop in his tracks. 

You didn’t turn up to the foyer that day either but between the dirty looks from you and the fact he was pretty sure Harper tried to trip him up at the coffee stand, he knew something was wrong. 

He just didn’t know what.

And every time he tried to get near you, tried to talk to you, it was a pathetically failed attempt that left that competitive streak inside his chest blaring with annoyance. 

You were ignoring him and he didn’t know why.

And then he saw it, three days after you started ignoring him. He was making his way into the dining hall, having just showered after a day in the slopes his friends dragged him out for, when he saw you and Evan by the buffet. 

Your eyes found his and something in his chest sparked. 

And then his eyes fell to the way your hand rested on Evan’s arm, the way you leaned into him as you laughed, the way Evan’s arm was thrown over your shoulder as you both walked back to your table. He watched as you both sat next to each other, so close your thighs were probably  pressed together under the table and something bitter settled in his stomach. 

He knew he had no real reason to be jealous. Especially between the fact that you yourself had assured him everything between you and Evan was platonic (if not familial) and the fact there was no real talk of anything being between you and himself other than a shitload of chemistry. 

But even logic didn’t stop the jealousy he felt.

His appetite was gone after that, as he turned around and headed back to his suite that felt a little bittersweet after the amazing night and shit morning he had with you. But he wasn’t in the mood to eat or pine for you from a distance. 

Charles was sick and tired of you ignoring him, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. 

And the first step in his plan had everything to do with the blond you were currently laughing and touching. He just needed to get Evan alone.

…

It was Christmas Eve when Charles’ plan finally reached its final step—to finally talk to you.

It felt like an odd sense of deja vu when you woke up that morning, making your way down for breakfast before you got ready for the slopes that day. You thought nothing off the weird looks Evan was giving you or the way he seemed giddier than usual, because truthfully it was no different to how Evan usually was on Christmas Eve. 

You put down his eagerness to head towards the slopes under the assumption he probably had some weird challenge for you and Harper at the top. You just hoped this one wouldn’t result in another sprained ankle. 

“I’m riding with you today, Stormy,” Evan said as the three of you headed towards the ski lift.

“Uh, get in line, loser,” Harper spoke up as she stood on the other side of you. “I called dibs.” 

Evan narrowed his eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, I did just now,” Harper retorted. 

“Does it really matter?” You questioned, amused as you glanced between the two of them.

“Yes!”

“No!” 

Harper and Evan turned to glare at each other, confusion from one of them and insistence from the other. However, you just laughed and shook your head. 

“Fine, first one to the lift wins!” 

You were already settled in the lift as you heard the two of them bickering to each other. You waited to see which one would win, to see who would settle in the spot next to you. However, what you failed to notice was the way Evan all but threw himself on top of his sister so she couldn’t reach the lift before someone else did. 

You turned, a smile on your face as you waited to greet the winning Montgomery, but instead you found yourself staring at a painfully familiar set of green eyes. 

And in an instant, your smile dropped at the sight of Charles Leclerc sitting next to you. 

But before you could even think about jumping off the lift and taking the next seat, the lift was already too high up for you to do anything about it. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said to break the silence.

But you didn’t respond.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me but at least hear me out,” Charles continued, a hint of desperation in his voice. “This is all a misunderstanding.” 

You kept your gaze facing forward.

“Evan told me what you thought happened that morning.”

And just like that, your head snapped around to stare at him, a mix of emotions going through you right now—though the biggest was possibly Evan’s betrayal. 

“You weren’t lying when you said he was a big fan,” he said with a nervous laugh. “It didn’t actually take much for him to tell me why you’ve been ignoring me.”

“You used my friend?” You questioned, the bitterness and coldness in your voice evident.

“I asked and he gave me information,” Charles corrected before his shoulders sagged a bit. “Look, don’t blame him. He heard what I had to say and—”

“And I don’t care what you have to say so go talk to Evan about it,” you spat back at him, watching the way he winced at your words.

“Cherie—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Stormy—”

“And definitely don’t call me that.”

“Please,” Charles pleaded as he looked at you with wide eyes, ones that held so many emotions you did not want to see. “That phone call was not what you think.” 

You looked away at the mention of the phone call, something quite like anger and disgust bubbling inside you at the mere reminder of the words you heard that morning. “Just…stop it, Charles. I don’t care, okay? You go about your life and I’ll go about mine.”

“No,” he stated simply.

You scoffed. “What? You need another girl in another city to have fawning over you? The hundreds of others not enough?”

“No, because I am not interested in my life not having you in it. I am not interested in a hundred other girls.” The words were stated like they were facts. “Stormy, I just want you.”

You scoffed again but a hand tugging yours made you look over at Charles, fully prepared to pull your hand away. 

“I wasn’t talking about you on the phone that morning,” Charles quickly blurted out before you had a chance to say anything. “Everything you heard on the phone that morning, it wasn’t about you.”

You blinked.

“It was about Melanie.”

Your brows furrowed together, a crease forming between them that Charles had the urge to smooth out with his thumb, but he resisted.

“What?”

“She—” Charles paused for a moment, like he was trying to gather the correct words. “She’s not my friend, not really.”

You blinked again. “She’s not? But she acts—”

“She acts like we are, yes. She’s a friend of a friend, and that’s about all there is to her. She’s…uh, how do you say? She seems to have gained a crush on me? Or maybe it’s some weird obsession. I’m not quite sure,” Charles admitted with a frown. “She asked me out once, almost a year ago and I declined. But she has latched onto the group ever since and I couldn’t quite shake her off.”

You didn’t say anything, instead letting him continue. 

“She wasn’t even meant to be on this trip,” Charles confessed. “But she said to our mutual friend that she was alone this Christmas and…I just couldn’t say no, right? But she’s spent the last year acting like I didn’t reject her and I didn’t like the idea of being trapped up here with her. But even with all our other friends, she was always beside me. She was always there. And when she started to throw tantrums to our friends and make up stories after I started spending time with you, I had enough.”

Your lips parted slightly in shock.

“Turns out she told all our friends that we were together,” Charles said with a grimace. “That we wanted to keep it a secret from the media, and that meant I wanted to keep it from everyone. She tried to make it out like I was a monster to our friends when I started spending days with you. Thankfully, none of them believed a word she said but…it was just too much.”

“Oh.”

“That’s why you heard me ranting on the phone about not seeing her after this trip because I have no plans to be around her ever again and I made that clear to my friends. You can even ask them if you don’t believe me,” Charles said as he finally let out a long breath. He looked at you, an almost pained expression on his face. “I would never say those things about you. Not when you might just be the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Your cheeks burned. “Charles—”

“I know you feel it too,” he continued, and that desperate note to his voice returned. “I know you’ve felt it all week. I know you felt it that night. I know you feel like this—us—could be something.”

“I’m such an idiot,” you muttered, closing your eyes as you realised the agonsing and the pain and the ignoring over the last few days could have been avoided if you stayed in the bedroom a little longer that morning. Or if you had just spoken to him instead of letting the pettiness take over.

“You had no reason to think otherwise about me, cherie, and I get that,” Charles said as he squeezed your hand, almost like a tester to see if you would pull away or not. But you didn’t. “But I want to change that. I want to explore this. I want to show you that I would never do that to you. I want to give you reasons to trust me.”

“I would like that,” you murmured in a soft voice, but Charles heard you loud and clear as he grinned at you. 

“Yeah? You don’t hate me still?” He questioned.

You laughed, shaking your head as you did. “I don’t think I ever hated you, Charles.”

“Good, it makes this easier then,” he said before he leaned in, his slightly chapped lips pressed against yours—and something about it felt like coming home. 

You sunk into his embrace, your hand coming up to cup his cheek like you needed to believe he was really there (even if the gloves made it a little awkward). But feeling him smile against your lips was assurance enough. 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Charles.” 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Stormy. I hope it’s one of many with you.” 

And maybe Charles Leclerc became another one of the many reasons you loved The Chalet.

.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘𖧞 once a year, your family visits your holiday home for christmas break, which also happens to be the one time you see your childhood enemy, Oscar. (Ongoing)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𖧞 16+ (suggestive), fluff, first-time-writing-on-here-so-beware, female reader, i think that’s all. Use of Y/N (as little as possible), swearing

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𖧞 oscar piastri x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𖧞 (scene 1) 1.1k 𖧞 planning on a couple posts so a lot upcoming.

𝐀/𝐍𖧞 this IS my first fic and post on here, so if the writing is mediocre that’s why. Hate comments will not be tolerated (obv). Also, I’m planning on this being a multi-post fic so word count will grow. Enjoy!

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𖧞 scene i 𖧞 (𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫)

“Hairless Hugh Jackman or Skinny Henry Cavill?”

My head rested against the cold window of the car, my eyes closed. I was tired and bored, but the game of ‘this or that’ being played next to me, kept my mind awake. I wouldn’t admit it but my siblings' answers and conversations could actually be entertaining. Now being a prime example.

I considered the question more deeply than I probably should have. “Hairless Hugh takes away everything good about him, so obviously Henry.” I answered with my eyes still closed and head against the window.

“Ew, no,” My sister replied. “Henry’s body in the Superman movies are, like, all that I live for. I couldn’t care less about Hugh Jackman.” She laughed and scrunched her nose like she was picturing both options. I just smiled, acknowledging her answer before opening my eyes to stare at the passing trees out of the window.

My forehead was cold from the temperature outside but I was too awestruck by the view: white covered trees and mountains stretched for miles. The winter season cloaked the entire outdoors and snow sparked in the little sunlight. I couldn’t wait until we reached the cabin.

My sister and brother, twins, were only a year younger than me, so their experiences with Christmas break are similar to mine.

Every year, my family travels to Canada and stays in our winter cabin over Christmas Break. Safe to say, I have been waiting for Christmas break to start since July. It’s the only time of year I feel at peace without the commotion of work and stress.

And I guess the view’s nice too.

We had been driving for hours in a tightly packed minivan, and past a group of trees, I spotted a small town, meaning we were close to our destination. Next to me, I felt my sister shift and basically lie on top of me to get a look out of the window. I grumbled and tried to push her off since her elbow was digging in my side but she was unrelenting.

“Wow, look at this!” She spoke to my brother who was sitting two seats away from me. He had his own window and looked just as mesmerized as I was. No matter how many times we visit, the scenery would never be anything but gorgeous.

The tires of the minivan crunched as we pulled onto the gravel driveway of the cabin. Immediately, my family began piling out and grabbing everything we packed, which was a lot. I walked through the large door of the cabin with very little visibility because of the mound of blankets and bags I was carrying. I started heading straight towards my bedroom before I knocked into someone without looking and everything fell from my arms. I gasped and started muttering about how they should have moved out of the way, fully expecting the person I bumped into to be one of my siblings but as I looked up I saw who I actually bumped into and immediately shut up.

“Oh, it’s just you.” I deadpanned. I stood up straight and quit trying to pick up my stuff, resting a hand on my hip at the person in front of me.

Oscar Piastri. As in the son of the family that stayed in the cabin with us every summer.

Nicole and Chris Piastri, his parents, were my parents’ best friends since highschool. But, when we moved to America and they stayed in Australia, the only time we ever see the Piastri family is over Christmas Break.

Earlier, when I was talking about how much I adore the cabin, I forgot about this information. I take back what I said. Christmas Break is not a break of peace. Instead, its weeks of torture and stress as i barely survive around Mr. Annoying, himself: Oscar Piastri.

What’s annoying about him isn’t that he’s loud or obnoxious- it’s the very opposite.

Ever since we were little, when our families lived a block away from each other, Oscar barely reacted to anything. Most adults or kids our age loved his calm exterior and how ‘mature he was for his age,’ meanwhile I was constantly regarded as a ‘trouble child.’

I was jealous. Of Course I was jealous. Oscar got praised for years and I was pushed away and given a sucker to stay away.

What was the worst, however, was how Oscar acted around me. To others he was a saint, but around me, he made sure to agonize me any chance he got. He would push me off of the swing and then when adults would ask what happened he would pretend like I fell and he was helping me up.

Asshole.

Anyways, now I only have to see him once a year, but those few weeks in December make me want to rip my hair out and run away with a hairless Hugh Jackman.

When I saw who it was, I bumped into my excited smile and was replaced with what felt like a snarl. Oscar, stood in front of me, a stupid sirk on his lips, probably having ran into me on purpose.

“Y/n. Didn’t see you there.” He said, a sly smirk still present. He was wearing an orange hoodie, no doubt merch of his. because , did i mention, Perfect-Piastri also happens to be a Formula-fucking-One Mclaren Racing driver.

Yeah…

So, another thing he holds above me.

“Yeah sure you didn’t” I mutter while moving to shove everything back into my arms. But as I picked up one thing, another fell and instead of noticing my struggle and helping, Oscar just stood there. However, once my parents barreled through the door, arms just as full as mine was, Oscar bent down to help carry the heaviest bag.

“Oh! Oscar,” my mom noticed him. “We had no idea you guys had arrived yet.” She had a warm smile on her lips, genuinely happy to see him. “We were hoping to get here first and start cooking dinner.”

She motioned towards my dad why held the bags of groceries we got before heading here. In the bags were cans of yams and frozen veggies, indicating their plans.

“Oh, no worries.” Oscar replies, with a matching smile. “My mom started cooking already. We would definitely be happy to enjoy your cooking tomorrow, though. I really am a sucker for your candied yams.”

I watched the scene unfold and rolled my eyes.

Oscar turned back towards me with an amused look and started walking away towards my room, my bag in hand. I shut my eyes tightly, and looked up, praying that I wouldn't go insane this month before following him up the stairs.

(SCENE ii) click here

pinterest-piece 𖧞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜

grumpy - op81

summary: oscar is always grumpy, never smiles and claims not to want any friends. yn is determined to crack his armor no matter how much he tries to push her away word count: 8.4k + social media posts

folkie radio: NEW LONG FIC !! i wrote the first bit of this fic a while ago and i picked it up and this was the result, i really hope you like it. let me know your thoughts

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Oscar didn't want to be at this party. The pulsing music, the crowd of unfamiliar faces, and the overwhelming sensory assault of flashing lights and laughter grated on his nerves. He stood in a corner, nursing a drink he hadn't really wanted, wondering how long he needed to stay before he could politely excuse himself.

Lando had been excited about this joint birthday celebration for weeks. He'd explained to Oscar that he'd reconnected with an old childhood friend who, by some cosmic coincidence, shared his exact birthdate. Oscar had been surprised when Lando told him about it; he'd never heard of this friend before. But then again, there was a lot about Lando's life outside of racing that Oscar didn't know.

Oscar's eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face. He spotted Lando in the center of a laughing group, his arm slung casually around a girl Oscar assumed must be the co-host of this ridiculously extravagant party.

He couldn't recall if Lando had ever shown him a picture of this mysterious childhood friend. The invitations Lando had sent out mentioned her name - YN - but Oscar had paid little attention to the details. Racing consumed most of his thoughts, and social events like this were far from his priority list.

The girl standing next to Lando was pretty, Oscar noted absently, with an easy smile that seemed to light up those around her. She laughed at something Lando said, throwing her head back in genuine laughter. Oscar found himself wondering if this was the famed YN, but he couldn't be sure. There were so many people here, and Lando seemed to know them all.

Lost in his observations and internal musings, Oscar didn't notice someone approaching until a voice piped up beside him. "Not much for parties, huh?"

Lost in his observations and internal thoughts, Oscar didn't notice someone approaching until a voice piped up beside him. "Not much for parties, huh?"

He turned to find another girl standing next to him, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She was attractive too, he couldn't help but notice, with flowing hair and a smile that seemed genuine rather than the forced pleasantries he was used to at such events.

Oscar shrugged, not particularly in the mood for small talk. "Not really my scene," he replied, his tone cooler than the drink in his hand.

He glanced back at Lando and the girl he was with, then back to the newcomer. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if this might be YN, but he quickly dismissed the thought. Surely, the birthday girl would be at the center of attention, not chatting up grumpy partygoers in the corner.

The girl, not minding his frosty response, leaned against the wall next to him. "I get that. These big bashes can be overwhelming. But hey, the night's still young, right? Maybe it'll grow on you."

Oscar raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "Doubtful. I'm only here because Lando insisted."

"Oh?" the girl prompted, seeming genuinely interested despite Oscar's clear lack of enthusiasm. "You're friends with Lando then?"

"Teammates," Oscar corrected, taking a sip of his drink. "In Formula 1."

"That must be exciting!" the girl's eyes lit up, "I've always been fascinated by racing. The speed, the strategy, the teamwork… it's like a high-stakes chess game on wheels."

Despite himself, Oscar felt a flicker of interest. It wasn't often he met someone outside the racing world who seemed to genuinely appreciate the sport. But he squashed the feeling, determined to maintain his grumpy demeanor.

"It's just a job," he said flatly. "Not all it's cracked up to be."

"Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine?" the girl laughed, the sound warm and melodious. "Do you know the birthday girl, by the way?"

Oscar's frown deepened at the mention of the birthday girl.

"No, and honestly, I couldn't care less," he said bluntly. "I'm just here for Lando. In fact, I'm seriously considering leaving already. This whole thing is just… too much."

The girl's eyebrows raised slightly, but her smile didn't falter. "Oh? What makes you say that?"

Oscar, emboldened by the anonymity he assumed he had with this stranger, decided to let loose. "Where do I even start? First off, this music is atrocious. It's just noise. Who even picked this playlist?"

"Not a fan of pop, I take it?" the girl chuckled, shaking her head.

"Not when it's blasting at eardrum-shattering levels," Oscar grumbled. He gestured around the room. "And look at all these people. Half of them probably don't even know Lando or this girl. It's just a crowd of random people here for the free drinks and the chance to rub elbows with a Formula 1 driver."

The girl nodded, her eyes twinkling with what Oscar failed to recognize as suppressed laughter. "I see. Anything else bothering you?"

Oscar was on a roll now.

"It's probably all because of this other girl who thought it would be a brilliant idea to have a joint birthday party with a Formula 1 driver. I mean, who does that? It's like she's using Lando for the publicity or something, because I've been Lando's teammate for a year and I've never heard of her util now. This whole thing is over the top. The decorations look like a McLaren gift shop exploded in here. And don't get me started on that ridiculous cake I saw earlier."

Throughout Oscar's rant, the girl beside him simply listened, nodding occasionally and biting her lip as if trying not to laugh. When he finally paused for breath, she said, "Wow, you've really given this a lot of thought. It must be tough, being surrounded by all this… excess."

Oscar sighed, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish about his outburst. "I just… I don't get it, you know? Why make such a big deal out of a birthday?"

The girl's smile softened. "Maybe because birthdays are worth celebrating? Especially when you can share them with friends – old and new."

Before Oscar could respond, a familiar voice cut through the noise of the party. "YN! There you are! It's time for the cake!"

Oscar's head snapped up to see Lando weaving through the crowd, heading straight for them. His eyes widened as realization dawned, a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief washing over him.

The girl – YN – turned back to Oscar, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Duty calls," she said with a wink. "It was nice chatting with you, Oscar. Thanks for your honest feedback on my terrible music taste, my excessive decorations, and my 'brilliant' idea to share a birthday party with my childhood friend. Maybe next time you're at a party, try to enjoy it a little? You might be surprised."

As YN walked away to join Lando, leaving Oscar rooted to the spot, he couldn't help but feel a wave of mortification wash over him. He had just spent the better part of an hour criticizing various aspects of the party to one of the hosts herself. And not just any host – Lando's childhood friend, the girl whose birthday they were also celebrating.

Oscar watched as YN and Lando made their way to the center of the room, where the enormous cake he had mocked earlier was being wheeled out.

As YN and Lando took their places in front of the extravagant cake, the crowd began to gather around them to sing Happy Birthday. Oscar, still reeling from his embarrassing revelation, found himself shuffling closer to the center of the room, trying to blend in with the crowd.

As the song concluded, Lando stepped forward, raising a hand to quiet the crowd. He cleared his throat and began to speak, his voice filled with warmth and excitement.

"Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate with us," Lando started, grinning widely. "YN and I have known each other since we were kids, and it's always been a bit of a joke between us that we share a birthday. Who would've thought we'd end up throwing a joint party like this years later?" He paused as the crowd chuckled. "YN, you've been an amazing friend all these years, and I'm so glad we reconnected. Here's to many more birthdays together!"

The crowd applauded as Lando raised his glass in a toast. Then, to Oscar's mounting dread, Lando handed the microphone to YN.

YN took the mic with a smile, her eyes scanning the room before landing on Oscar. He swallowed hard, wondering if she was about to call him out in front of everyone.

"Thanks, Lando," YN began, her voice warm and filled with amusement. "And thank you all for being here tonight. It means so much to see so many familiar faces… and some new ones too." Her eyes twinkled as she glanced at Oscar again. "You know, planning this party was quite an adventure. We wanted to make sure everyone would enjoy themselves… well, almost everyone."

Oscar felt his face grow hot as a few people near him chuckled, clearly not realizing the jab was directed at him.

"And now, let's cut into this 'ridiculous' cake I picked out. After that, feel free to enjoy more of our apparently ear-shattering music. Who knows? It might just grow on you!"

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 109,847 others

yourinstagram when you share your birthday with your childhood bestie who happens to be an f1 driver… you go BIG or go home! thank you @/landonorris for the most incredible joint celebration ever! from the "atrocious" music to the "ridiculous" cake, every moment was perfect 😉 and thanks to everyone who came - even those who stayed in the corner judging my party planning skills. here's to another year of chaos!

view all comments

username1 SLAAAAY

username2 omg lando celebrated BIG this year

landonorris Best joint birthday ever! Thank you for being one of my best friends ever

charles_leclerc The music was actually great! Don't listen to the haters

username3 I NEED TO PARTY WITH LANDOOOO

username4 imagine being lando's childhood friend and sharing your birthday with him THE DREAM

iamrebeccad That cake was anything but ridiculous! Still dreaming about it 🎂

username6 why do I feel like there's a story behind those quotation marks…

username7 Still can't believe you pulled this off! Best birthday party ever!

username8 there's an inside joke we're missing

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Oscar was making his way through the paddock when he spotted her. YN was chatting with Lando near the McLaren garage, wearing team merchandise and looking completely at ease in an environment that was supposed to be his territory. His stomach did an uncomfortable flip - a reaction he immediately attributed to embarrassment from their last encounter, nothing more.

He quickly turned around, hoping to avoid another interaction. The last thing he needed before qualifying was to be reminded of how he'd made a complete fool of himself at that party. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

"Oscar!" Lando's voice called out. "Come here, mate!"

Oscar suppressed a groan, plastering what he hoped was a neutral expression on his face as he approached them. YN turned to face him, that same amused smile from the party playing on her lips. He hated how his heart skipped a beat - clearly just residual embarrassment, he assured himself.

"Hey, grumpy," she greeted cheerfully. "Ready for qualifying?"

Oscar's jaw tightened. Something about her easy demeanor, the way she seemed so unfazed by their previous interaction, irritated him. Or maybe what really irritated him was how much he'd thought about that interaction over the past two weeks.

"Just focused on the session," he replied curtly, trying to ignore the way her eyes seemed to see right through his cold exterior.

"YN's going to be hanging around this weekend," Lando explained, either oblivious to or ignoring the tension. "I thought it'd be cool to show her around."

Great, Oscar thought. Just what he needed - another distraction. He'd caught himself checking her Instagram more times than he cared to admit since the party, telling himself he was just curious about what she'd posted about that night. The fact that he'd spent an embarrassing amount of time looking at her other photos was something he refused to analyze.

"How exciting," Oscar deadpanned. "The glamorous world of Formula 1. I'm sure you'll love all the noise and chaos."

YN's smile didn't falter. "Oh, I don't mind noise when it has a purpose. Race car engines are quite different from 'atrocious' party music, wouldn't you agree?"

Oscar felt his cheeks warm at the reference to his party complaints. The memory of that night had been replaying in his head for two weeks - how she'd stood there letting him rant, those knowing eyes twinkling with amusement. How different would things have been if he'd known who she was from the start? Would he have actually tried to enjoy himself? Would he not think about his ex for half of the night?

Because that was his reality, he thought about his ex more than he cared to admit that he did.

"I should go prepare for qualifying," he muttered, turning to leave, trying to escape both her presence and his confusing thoughts.

"Wait," YN called after him. "I actually wanted to apologize."

This made Oscar pause, turning back with a confused frown. "Apologize?" His heart was doing that annoying skipping thing again.

"Yes," she nodded. "I should have introduced myself properly at the party instead of letting you vent. It was a bit mean to let you go on like that without telling you who I was."

Her sincerity caught him off guard. He'd spent two weeks convinced she must think he was a complete jerk, and here she was apologizing to him? It didn't make sense. None of this made sense - including the way his pulse quickened when she smiled at him.

"Right. Well, no harm done. If you'll excuse me…" He needed to get away. Now. Before these unwanted feelings got any more confused.

"I made you a playlist," YN continued, her eyes twinkling. "All non-atrocious songs, I promise. Thought it might help with your pre-race preparation."

She held out her phone, showing a Spotify playlist titled "For Grumpy F1 Drivers Who Hate Fun." The fact that she'd taken the time to make him a playlist, even as a joke, did something strange to his chest.

Lando burst out laughing. "Oh mate, she's got you there!"

Oscar stared at the playlist, his expression hardening. The championship battle was too tight, the pressure too intense for these kinds of distractions. They were so close to securing the constructor's championship. He couldn't afford to let anything break his focus, especially not some girl who seemed determined to get under his skin.

"I don't need a playlist," he said, his voice sharper than before. "What I need is to focus on qualifying. We're fighting for a championship here. This isn't some game."

YN's smile faltered slightly, but she maintained her composure. "Right, of course. The championship."

"Yeah, the championship," Oscar continued, his tone cold and professional. "Something that requires actual focus and dedication, not parties and playlists. So if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Oscar, mate," Lando started, looking uncomfortable, but Oscar cut him off.

"No, Lando. You might be comfortable mixing your personal life with racing, but I'm not. I'm here to win, not to socialize." He turned to YN, his expression neutral but his eyes hard. "Enjoy your weekend at the track."

He turned and walked away, his steps quick and purposeful. Behind him, he could hear Lando apologizing to YN, but he forced himself not to care.

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Oscar sat on the edge of his hotel bed, his phone illuminated with photos he should have deleted months ago. Lily's smile beamed back at him through the screen - holidays in Melbourne, race weekends, quiet moments at home. Four years of memories he couldn't seem to let go of.

"This is pathetic," he muttered, tossing his phone aside. The Vegas skyline glittered beyond his window, a stark contrast to his dark mood. The text from Lando about the drivers' party at some upscale club sat unanswered on his phone.

He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the familiar weight of loneliness settle in his chest. Lily had ended things right before the season started, claiming she couldn't handle the distance anymore. The truth was, she'd found someone else - someone who wasn't away racing cars most of the year.

The thought of sitting alone in his hotel room on a Saturday night in Las Vegas, scrolling through old photos of his ex, made him cringe. Even Alex, who usually preferred quiet nights after races, was going to the party.

"Fuck it," he declared to his empty room, standing up abruptly. He'd rather feel uncomfortable at a party than feel sorry for himself.

The club was exactly as he expected - loud, crowded, and dripping with excess. He spotted several drivers immediately: Lewis holding court in a VIP section, Max and Kelly laughing with Charles, Alex and George arguing about something while Franco watched in amusement.

Then he saw her. YN was wearing a silver dress that caught the light, making her look like she belonged among the glittering Vegas lights. She was chatting with Lando and Carlos, her head thrown back in laughter at something Carlos had said.

Oscar ordered a drink and found a quiet corner, trying to ignore the way his eyes kept drifting back to her. Their last interaction in the paddock hadn't been great - he'd been cold, dismissive. Yet here she was, seemingly unbothered, lighting up the room with that easy smile of hers.

"Didn't expect to see you here," her voice suddenly came from beside him. He hadn't noticed her approach.

"I live to surprise," he replied flatly, taking a sip of his drink.

YN leaned against the wall next to him, mirroring their positions from her birthday party. "You look about as thrilled to be here as you did at my party."

"If you've come to mock me again-"

"I haven't," she cut him off, her voice gentle. "I actually came to see if you're okay. You seem… different tonight."

Oscar tensed. Was he that transparent? "I'm fine."

"You know, it's okay not to be okay sometimes," she said softly. "Even Formula 1 drivers are allowed to have bad days."

He looked at her then, really looked at her. There was no trace of mockery in her expression, just genuine concern. It made something in his chest ache.

"I don't need your pity," he said, but his voice lacked its usual bite.

"Good, because I'm not offering any," YN replied. "I'm offering friendship. Or at least a dance partner who won't judge your moves too harshly."

Despite himself, Oscar felt the corner of his mouth twitch. "My moves are fine."

"Prove it then," she challenged, pushing off the wall and holding out her hand.

Oscar stared at her outstretched hand, feeling the weight of his phone in his pocket - the one still full of photos of Lily. He thought about his empty hotel room, about scrolling through memories of a relationship that was long over.

"I don't dance," he said finally, his tone cooling again. "And I'm not interested in whatever this is."

YN's hand dropped slowly, but her eyes remained kind. "Okay," she said simply. "But if you change your mind about either - the dancing or the friendship - I'll be around."

She turned to leave, pausing only to add, "You deserve to be happy, Oscar. Even if you don't believe it right now."

Oscar watched her disappear into the crowd, his drink suddenly tasting bitter in his mouth. He pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over his photo gallery. After a moment's hesitation, he opened his settings instead.

"Delete all photos?" the prompt asked.

He pressed yes before he could change his mind.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

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liked by username1, username2 and 12,958 others

f1gossip SWIPE to see Lily Zneimer (Oscar Piastri's ex) hard-launching her new relationship! 👀 After 4 years with the McLaren driver, she's officially moved on. Lily shared multiple pics on her Instagram with the caption "Finally found my perfect match ❤️"

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username1 the way she waited until oscar had a good race weekend to post this… calculated af 💀

username2 "perfect match" girl you dated an f1 driver… downgrade much?

username3 anyone else notice she limited her comments? 👀 guilty conscience maybe??

username4 oscar deserves better anyway, he's so focused this season!

username5 well this explains why oscar's been in his villain era all season

username6 her loss tbh oscar's having his best season yet

username7 the way she's trying to make it seem like they just met… girl we all saw you commenting on his posts since last year 🙄

username8 imagine breaking up with oscar piastri… couldn't be me

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The Monaco streets were quieter than usual at 6 AM, which was exactly why Oscar had chosen this time for his run. His feet pounded against the pavement in rhythm with the aggressive beats flooding his headphones, trying to drown out the thoughts of Lily's Instagram post that had been haunting him since last night.

Perfect match. The words echoed in his head, mocking him. Four years, and she'd replaced him so easily.

He pushed himself harder, taking the hill towards Casino Square at a punishing pace. The physical exertion wasn't enough to quiet his mind, but at least-

"Oscar!"

He ignored the voice, assuming it was meant for someone else.

"Oscar! Hey!"

The voice was closer now. Persistent. Familiar. He yanked out one earbud, turning around with an irritated scowl that only deepened when he saw who it was. YN was jogging towards him, wearing running gear and looking annoyingly fresh despite the steep incline.

"What the fuck?" he snapped when she caught up. "Are you following me now?"

YN raised an eyebrow, barely winded. "Don't flatter yourself, Piastri. I was already running when I spotted you."

"You don't even live here." His heart was racing, and he told himself it was just from the run.

"Staying with Lando," she shrugged, falling into step beside him despite his obvious displeasure. "He's got a spare room."

Oscar stopped abruptly, turning to face her. The morning sun caught her face in a way that made her eyes look impossibly bright. He pushed that observation away immediately. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what? Running?"

"This," he gestured between them, frustration evident in his voice. "Being… nice. Showing up everywhere. Trying to talk to me. I don't like you, okay? I don't want to be friends. I don't want whatever this is."

YN studied him for a moment, completely unfazed by his hostility. "You know, for someone who doesn't like me, you spend an awful lot of energy trying to convince me of that fact."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," she said, stretching her arms above her head casually, "that if you really didn't like me, you wouldn't care enough to tell me repeatedly. You'd just ignore me."

The logic in her statement irritated him more than her presence. She had a point, but he'd rather run up this hill ten more times than admit it.

"I prefer running alone," he said flatly, trying to ignore how his stomach did a weird flip when she smiled at him.

"Cool. Me too, usually." She grinned. "But sometimes life throws you unexpected running partners. Kind of like unexpected friendships."

"We're not friends."

"Not yet," she agreed cheerfully. "Race you to the casino?"

Before he could protest, she took off up the hill, her ponytail swinging with each stride. Oscar stood there for a moment, torn between irritation and something else he refused to name. The morning light cast long shadows across the street, and he watched her figure getting smaller as she climbed the hill.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself, but his feet were already moving, chasing after her up the winding street.

He told himself it was just his competitive nature, that he couldn't let her win. It had nothing to do with how her presence somehow made his chest feel lighter, or how the morning felt less lonely with her there.

They reached Casino Square nearly neck and neck, both breathing hard. The square was empty except for a few early morning workers, the famous casino building looming above them in the soft morning light.

"Not bad, Piastri," YN panted, hands on her knees. "But I totally had you on that last corner."

"You cut me off," he accused, trying to catch his breath.

"Did not! I took the racing line," she grinned, mimicking his Australian accent on the last two words.

Despite himself, a laugh escaped Oscar's lips before he could stop it.

YN's eyes lit up triumphantly. "There! You laughed!" She pointed at him accusingly. "You actually laughed! Quick, someone alert the press - Oscar Piastri has emotions other than grumpy and grumpier!"

Oscar immediately tried to school his features back into their usual scowl, but he could feel the corners of his mouth fighting to turn upward. "Shut up," he muttered, but there was no real heat in it.

"Make me," she challenged, starting to jog backwards. "Come on, one more lap around Monaco? Unless you're scared I'll beat you again…"

Oscar felt something shift in his chest, a crack in the walls he'd built so carefully. He blamed it on the endorphins from running, on the early morning air, on anything but the way her smile made him want to smile back.

"In your dreams," he called out, already moving to chase after her.

And if he was smiling as they ran through the empty streets of Monaco, well, there was no one else around to see it anyway.

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YN burst through Lando's front door, still riding the runner's high from her morning excursion. She found him in the kitchen, bleary-eyed and hunched over a cup of coffee, his hair sticking up in every direction.

"Morning, sunshine," she chirped, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

"Why are you so… awake?" Lando groaned, squinting at her. "It's inhuman."

"Guess who I ran into?" She hopped onto the kitchen counter, grinning. "Your grumpy teammate. And - wait for it - I actually made him laugh!"

Lando's spoon clattered against his mug. "Oscar? Laughed?"

"I know, right? I mean, it was more like a surprised laugh that he tried to take back immediately, but still. Progress!" She took a long drink of water. "I don't get why he's so… intense all the time. Like, I know F1 drivers are serious, but he takes it to another level."

Lando's expression shifted, something like concern crossing his face. "Ah, right. You don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"About the breakup."

YN stopped mid-sip. "Breakup?"

Lando set his coffee down, suddenly looking more awake. "His girlfriend - well, ex-girlfriend now - Lily. They were together for four years. She ended things right before the season started."

"Oh," YN said quietly, her earlier enthusiasm deflating. "I had no idea."

"Yeah, it was…" Lando ran a hand through his already messy hair. "It was pretty rough. They had this whole life planned out, you know? She moved to Monaco for him when he got the McLaren seat. They were talking about getting married eventually."

"What happened?"

"She met someone else," Lando said grimly. "Some business guy in Sydney or something. Oscar found out when he got back from winter training. She'd already moved her stuff out."

YN felt her stomach sink. "That's horrible."

"Yeah. And the worst part? She posted about her new relationship yesterday. All these loved-up photos, calling the guy her 'perfect match' and everything." Lando shook his head. "Oscar saw it last night. That's probably why he was out running so early."

"Shit," YN whispered, remembering how she'd teased him about being grumpy. "I feel awful now. I've been giving him such a hard time about being antisocial."

"You didn't know," Lando assured her. "And honestly? You getting him to laugh is kind of huge. He's been… different since it happened. Throws himself into racing, barely socializes. The only time I see him smile is on podiums."

YN thought about Oscar's surprised laugh in Casino Square, how quickly he'd tried to hide it. "Four years is a long time."

"Yeah," Lando agreed. "And they were good together, you know? Or we all thought they were. She was at every race, knew everyone in the paddock. When she left…" He trailed off, taking a sip of coffee. "Let's just say there's a reason he keeps people at arm's length now."

YN slid off the counter, her earlier victory feeling hollow now. "I should probably back off then. Give him space."

Lando looked at her thoughtfully. "Actually… maybe don't?"

"What?"

"It's just…" Lando set his mug down, choosing his words carefully. "That was the first time you've mentioned him laughing since January. Maybe what he needs isn't more space. Maybe he needs someone who won't let him push them away."

YN thought about Oscar's determined scowl that morning, how it had softened just slightly when she'd challenged him to another lap. "I don't know, Lando…"

"Just… be yourself," Lando suggested. "You've already cracked the grumpy exterior once. And Oscar… he's a good guy. He just needs to remember there's more to life than proving his ex wrong."

YN nodded slowly, her mind going back to their morning run. She thought about the way Oscar had tried not to smile, how his eyes had lit up during their race to the casino despite his best efforts to remain stoic.

"Okay," she said finally. "But if he murders me for being annoying, I'm haunting you first."

Lando grinned. "Deal. Now please tell me you're making those pancakes you promised yesterday."

"Only if you tell me more about this grumpy teammate of yours."

"Oh, I've got stories," Lando laughed. "Let me tell you about the time he got lost in Singapore…"

As YN moved around Lando's kitchen gathering pancake ingredients, she couldn't help but think about Oscar, wondering if he was still running through the streets of Monaco, trying to outrun memories of a relationship that had shaped the last four years of his life.

She understood his coldness better now, but somehow, that only made her more determined to break through it.

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liked by username1, username2 and 10,983 others

f1gossip SPOTTED: Oscar Piastri jogging around Monaco with mysterious girl ! Sources say they were laughing and racing each other around 👀

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username1 OHHHH

username2 WHO IS THIS

username3 oscar healing era we love to see it

username4 isn't this lando's friend? the one he shares the same bday with

userame5 THIS IS YNNNN lando's bday twin

username6 OSC BOYFRIEND ERA AGAIN??

username7 cry lily zneimer

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Oscar stared at his phone screen, the message he'd sent to Lily still showing just one gray checkmark. Not delivered. He'd blocked her months ago, but last night, in a moment of weakness (and perhaps too much room service wine), he'd unblocked her number.

"I hope you're happy," he'd texted. Four simple words that made him feel pathetic now in the harsh light of day.

Of course she'd changed her number. Of course she hadn't responded. What had he expected? That she'd suddenly remember all their plans, their shared dreams, their life in Monaco? That she'd realize her Sydney finance dude wasn't her "perfect match" after all?

He tossed his phone onto the hotel bed, disgusted with himself. Four years of his life, and here he was, still orbiting around her like a satellite that didn't know its planet had disappeared. The worst part was, he wasn't even sure if he still loved her or if he was just haunted by the future they'd planned.

The Qatar paddock was already buzzing with activity when he arrived, the air conditioning doing little to combat the oppressive heat. He had an engineering briefing in ten minutes, and he needed to focus on the race weekend, not on unanswered texts to ex-girlfriends.

Then he spotted her. YN was chatting animatedly with Carlos near the Ferrari garage, wearing a McLaren team shirt that he suspected was Lando's. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and she was gesturing enthusiastically about something, making Carlos laugh. She looked so at ease, so comfortable in this world that had taken him years to navigate.

Oscar immediately turned around, hoping to duck into the McLaren hospitality without being noticed.

"Oscar!"

No such luck.

He kept walking, pretending he hadn't heard her. The sound of quick footsteps behind him told him his escape attempt had failed.

"Hey, grumpy!" YN fell into step beside him, seemingly unbothered by his obvious attempt to avoid her. "Still maintaining your daily scowl quota, I see."

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" he asked coldly, not slowing his pace.

"Probably. But bothering you is much more fun." She grinned, matching his stride effortlessly. "You know, most people say good morning when they see someone."

"I'm not most people. We're not anything."

"Still stuck on that 'we're not friends' thing? Even after our romantic morning run in Monaco?"

He tensed, acutely aware of the heads turning in their direction. Since their morning run in Monaco, social media had been buzzing with speculation. F1 fan accounts had somehow gotten hold of a blurry photo of them running through Casino Square, and the paddock rumor mill had been working overtime. The last thing he needed was more fuel for those fires, especially not when his embarrassing text to Lily was still fresh in his mind.

"Stop," he cut her off, pulling them both to a halt in a quieter section of the paddock. "This needs to stop."

"What needs to stop?"

"This. You. Being everywhere." His voice was low, controlled, but inside he was a mess of conflicting emotions. The ghost of his unanswered text message haunted him, making him feel vulnerable and defensive. "People are talking. They saw us in Monaco."

YN's smile faltered slightly, but her eyes remained kind. "And? We went for a run. Last I checked, that wasn't a crime."

"You don't get it," he said, frustration seeping into his tone. "I don't need this right now. I don't need people speculating or making assumptions." I don't need to feel things I'm not ready to feel, he added silently.

Understanding dawned in her eyes. "Are you afraid your ex might see?"

The question hit too close to home, especially after his pathetic attempt at reaching out to Lily. His jaw clenched. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you're letting someone who left you control your life," YN said quietly, her words cutting through his defenses with surgical precision. "I know you're so afraid of getting hurt again that you'd rather push everyone away."

"Don't," he warned, his voice sharp. "You don't get to analyze me. You don't get to act like you understand anything about my life just because Lando told you some story." The fact that she could read him so easily only made him more defensive.

"I'm not-"

"We're not friends," he continued, his words precise and cutting. "That morning in Monaco was a mistake. I was…" Vulnerable, lonely, weak. "…it doesn't matter. Just stay away from me."

He turned to leave, his phone feeling like a lead weight in his pocket, the unanswered text message a reminder of everything he was trying to forget.

"You know what I think?" YN called after him, her voice carrying across the paddock. "I think you're not actually afraid of what she might see. I think you're afraid of what might happen if you stop letting her ghost rule your life. And you know what the saddest part is? You're so focused on pushing people away, you don't even notice who's trying to stay."

Oscar didn't turn around, but his shoulders tensed. Her words hit home with devastating accuracy, making his chest tight. Without another word, he walked away, leaving YN standing alone in the sweltering Qatar heat.

But as he headed into the briefing, YN's words kept playing in his mind: "You're so focused on pushing people away, you don't even notice who's trying to stay."

The worst part was, he was starting to wonder if she was right.

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The private jet hummed quietly as they crossed over Saudi airspace. Oscar kept fidgeting with his phone, refreshing Instagram for the tenth time in as many minutes. Another photo of Lily, another glimpse of her perfect new life without him.

"If you stare at that screen any harder, it might actually burst into flames," YN's voice cut through his thoughts.

Oscar locked his phone quickly, jaw tightening. "Mind your own business."

From across the aisle, Lando pretended to be absorbed in his game, but Oscar could see him watching their interaction from the corner of his eye.

"Want to talk about it?" YN asked softly, closing her book.

"No."

"Want to keep brooding dramatically while pretending you're not stalking your ex's Instagram?"

Oscar's head snapped up. "I'm not-"

"You've refreshed that page twelve times in the last hour. I've been counting."

"Why are you even watching me?"

"Hard not to when you're sighing like a sad protagonist in a period drama."

Despite himself, Oscar felt the corner of his mouth twitch. YN caught it immediately.

"Was that almost a smile? Quick, Lando, document this rare occurrence!"

"Leave me out of this," Lando mumbled, though he was clearly fighting back a grin.

Oscar tried to maintain his scowl, but YN's theatrical gasping was making it difficult. "You're ridiculous."

"And you," she pointed at him, "are coming out with me tomorrow night."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you need to get out of your hotel room, and I know for a fact you don't have any plans besides rewatching her stories and making yourself miserable."

"I don't-"

"You know what?" YN continued, leaning forward in her seat. "We're going to that new rooftop bar at the W. You're going to wear something that isn't team gear, you're going to have at least two drinks, and you're going to remember what it's like to actually enjoy yourself."

"And if I say no?"

"You won't," she said confidently. "Because deep down, you know I'm right. Also, I've already told Lando he's coming too."

"Traitor," Oscar muttered at his teammate.

Lando shrugged. "She's very persuasive. Also, slightly terrifying."

"So?" YN raised an eyebrow at Oscar. "What's it going to be? Another night of Instagram stalking, or actually living your life?"

Oscar looked between her determined face and his phone, still dark in his hand. The thought of another night alone with his thoughts was suddenly exhausting.

"Fine," he said finally. "But I'm not dancing."

"We'll see about that," YN grinned triumphantly. "Now, hand over your phone."

"What? No."

"Yes. Consider it confiscated until we land. Doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor."

"No, but I am your friend, whether you like it or not. Phone. Now."

Maybe it was the altitude, or the way she said 'friend' so matter-of-factly, or just the sheer exhaustion of maintaining his walls, but Oscar found himself holding out his phone.

"Just until we land," he warned.

"Of course," YN agreed, tucking it into her bag. "Now, want to hear about the time I accidentally locked Lando in his own garage?"

"That was YOU?" Lando's head shot up from his game.

"In my defense, I thought you were already at the track…"

As YN launched into the story, Oscar felt something in his chest loosen slightly. He wasn't ready to admit it yet, but maybe - just maybe - she had a point about living his life again.

"…and that's why Lando now triple-checks every door before closing it," YN finished, making Lando groan.

"I knew it wasn't a 'random malfunction,'" he accused.

Oscar found himself actually laughing, the sound surprising even himself.

"There it is," YN said softly, her eyes meeting his. "That's the guy I'm taking out tomorrow night."

And for once, Oscar didn't argue.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

texts between lando and yn

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Oscar stood in front of his hotel mirror, already regretting the black button-down shirt he'd chosen. His phone buzzed with a message from Lando: "Sorry mate, stomach's not great. Going to skip tonight. You two have fun ;)"

The winky face made Oscar's jaw clench. He immediately typed back: "Not going if you're not."

Lando's reply was instant: "Yes you are. YN will murder me if you bail."

As if on cue, there was a knock at his door. Oscar considered pretending he wasn't in, but-

"I can hear you overthinking from out here, Piastri!" YN's voice carried through the door. "Open up!"

Sighing, he opened the door to find her leaning against the frame, wearing a simple black dress that made him suddenly very aware of his heartbeat.

"Lando's not coming," he said immediately.

"I know, he texted me." She stepped into his room uninvited. "We're still going."

"I don't think-"

"Nope," she cut him off. "You're not bailing. You're dressed, you look nice, and I'm not letting you spend another night hiding in your room."

"I don't hide-"

"Your Instagram search history would disagree." She grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door. "Come on, one drink. If you're still miserable after that, you can come back and brood in peace."

Something about the way she said it - teasing but kind - made it hard to argue. "One drink," he conceded.

The rooftop bar at the W was busy but not crowded, the Abu Dhabi skyline glittering around them. They found a quiet corner with a view of the water.

"See? Not so terrible," YN said, sliding into her seat.

Oscar had to admit the view was spectacular. "It's alright."

"Such high praise! Should I alert the media?"

He tried to maintain his scowl but failed. "You're impossible."

"Yet here you are," she grinned. "Now, what are you drinking?"

Two hours later, they were walking along the waterfront, their earlier drinks having taken the edge off Oscar's usual guardedness. The night air was warm but pleasant, and the city lights reflected off the water like stars.

"No way," Oscar laughed - actually laughed - at YN's story. "You did not steal Lando's car."

"I didn't steal it! I borrowed it. There's a difference."

Oscar shook his head, still chuckling. "You're chaos."

"Better than being predictable," she shrugged, bumping his shoulder playfully. "Speaking of which, you know what I noticed?"

"What?"

"You haven't checked your phone once tonight."

Oscar realized she was right. He hadn't even thought about Lily since they'd left the hotel. "I guess I was… distracted."

"By my sparkling personality and amazing stories?"

"By your criminal tendencies, apparently."

YN stopped walking, turning to face him. "You know what else I noticed?"

"What?"

"You're smiling. Like, actually smiling. Not that fake media smile you do, but a real one."

Oscar felt his defenses start to rise, but YN continued before he could retreat.

"And the world didn't end," she said softly. "You had fun, you laughed, and somehow life went on."

He looked out at the water, processing her words. "It's not… it's not that simple."

"No, it's not," she agreed. "But it's a start." She turned to face the water too, standing close enough that their arms brushed. "You know what your problem is?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"You're so afraid of getting hurt again that you're missing out on all the good stuff. The random nights like this, the unexpected friendships, the moments that make life worth living."

Oscar was quiet for a moment. "I thought I had all that figured out," he finally said. "The whole future planned."

"And now?"

"Now…" he looked at her, really looked at her, illuminated by the city lights. "Now I don't know anything anymore."

"Good," she smiled. "That's where all the best stories start." She pulled out her phone, checking the time. "Come on, one more stop before I return you to your cave of solitude."

"Where?"

"There's a gelato place around the corner that's still open. And before you say no, just remember - I've already seen you smile tonight. Your reputation is already ruined."

Oscar found himself following her without argument, watching as she practically bounced down the sidewalk, chattering about the best gelato flavors. He thought about what she'd said about missing out on the good stuff.

Maybe, just maybe, she had a point.

"Hey YN?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks. For… you know."

She turned back to him, her smile soft. "I know." Then, because she was YN, she added, "But if you try to go back to being grumpy tomorrow, I'm telling everyone about how you sang along to Taylor Swift in the bar."

"I did not-"

"The security cameras would disagree!"

Their laughter echoed off the buildings, mixing with the sounds of the city, and for the first time in months, Oscar felt like maybe, just maybe, there was life after Lily after all.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by landonorris, lilyhme and 102,648 others

yourinstagram turns out mr grumpy does know how to smile 😌 (he's gonna kill me for posting this last pic but it was worth it)

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username1 AWE THIS???

username2 weird plot twist but i love it

username3 YN AND OSCAR???

landonorris my stomach miraculously feels better seeing this 😇

↳ oscarpiastri I trusted you norris

↳ landonorris you'll thank me later mate

↳ username1 is there an inside joke we’re missing?

alex_albon WHO IS THIS MAN AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH OSCAR

↳ oscarpiastri Delete this immediately

↳ yourinstagram no ❤️

↳ username2 WHATS GOING ON

yourinstagram for someone who "hates" this post you sure are commenting a lot @/oscarpiastri

↳ oscarpiastri ...i know where you live

↳ yourinstagram no you don't

↳ oscarpiastri Lando does

↳ landonorris leave me out of this 😂

username4 hear me out… oscar and yn

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The McLaren garage had erupted into absolute chaos the moment Lando and Oscar crossed the finish line, securing the Constructors' Championship for the team. Zak was crying, Andrea was hugging everyone in sight, and Lando had already lost his voice from screaming.

Oscar's head was buzzing pleasantly from the multiple champagne showers and whatever drinks had been pressed into his hands during the celebrations. His race suit was stained and sticky, his hair a mess, but he couldn't stop grinning.

"WORLD CHAMPIONS!" Lando screamed for the hundredth time, jumping on Oscar's back.

Through the crowd of celebrating team members, Oscar spotted YN chatting with some of the engineers. She was wearing a McLaren shirt (definitely stolen from Lando's collection) and had champagne dripping from her hair.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the high of winning, or just the way she'd been beaming at him from the pit wall when he crossed the finish line, but Oscar found himself moving through the crowd toward her.

"YN!"

She turned, her smile growing wider. "Well, if it isn't the man of the hour-"

Before she could finish, Oscar had wrapped her in a tight hug, lifting her slightly off the ground. YN froze for a moment, clearly shocked by this uncharacteristic display of affection from him.

"Oh my god," she laughed, hugging him back. "Are you drunk or just really happy?"

"Both," he admitted into her hair, still not letting go. "We did it."

"You did it," she corrected, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Though I have to say, I'm a little concerned. First you're smiling in public, now you're initiating hugs? Who are you and what have you done with Oscar Piastri?"

"Shut up," he grinned, finally releasing her. "I'm allowed to be happy today."

"Quick, someone record this! The evidence that Oscar Piastri has emotions!"

"I take it back, I hate you again."

"No you don't," she sing-songed, poking his cheek. "You just hugged me in front of the entire paddock. Your reputation is ruined forever."

Oscar's eyes widened slightly as he looked around, suddenly aware of the knowing looks and smirks from nearby team members. Lando was practically vibrating with glee.

"I can still blame the champagne," he muttered.

"Sure you can," YN patted his cheek condescendingly. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, champ."

"I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

"Not a chance. I'm having this moment framed. 'The Day Oscar Piastri Showed Human Emotion: A Historical Event.'"

Despite himself, Oscar laughed. "You're impossible."

"Yet you hugged me anyway," she grinned triumphantly. "Face it, Piastri, you actually like having me around."

Maybe it was the champagne, or the victory high, or just the way her eyes were sparkling with mischief, but Oscar found himself saying, "Yeah, maybe I do."

YN's teasing smile softened into something more genuine. "Careful there, that almost sounded like admitting we're friends."

"Don't push it."

"Too late!" She called out to the garage. "Hey everyone! Oscar just said-"

Oscar quickly covered her mouth with his hand, both of them laughing now. "You're the worst."

She licked his palm, making him snatch his hand back. "And you love it."

Before he could respond, Lando crashed into both of them, wrapping his arms around their shoulders. "GROUP HUG! WORLD CHAMPIONS!"

As more team members joined the huddle, Oscar found himself pressed close to YN again. She caught his eye and mouthed "softie" at him with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes but couldn't stop smiling. Maybe she was right. Maybe he did like having her around.

But he was definitely blaming the champagne for that hug.

(He wasn't.)

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 104,759 others

yourinstagram to the boy who "doesn't smile" and the guy who "never shuts up" - you just made history. beyond proud to watch you two achieve this. thank you for letting me be a small part of the journey (even when one of you claimed to hate me 😌)

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username1 MCLAREN CHAMPIONSSS

username2 AHHH HAPPY OSC

landonorris MY FAVOURITE HUMAN ❤️

↳ oscarpiastri Excuse me?

↳ landonorris …my favourite humans*

↳ username1 THIS TRIO

username3 the grumpy one and the chaotic one

username4 I SHIP OSCAR AND YN

username5 she's lando's coolest friend

oscarpiastri Never hated you btw

↳ yourinstagram i know, you were just a grumpy boyy

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

texts between lily and oscar

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The McLaren Technology Centre had been transformed for the end-of-year celebration. Music thrummed through the usually pristine halls, and fairy lights twinkled everywhere. YN was nursing her second glass of champagne, watching Lando attempt to convince Zak to try some viral TikTok dance.

She found herself on one of the balconies overlooking the lake, enjoying the crisp December air. The door clicked behind her, and she didn't need to turn to know who it was – she'd recognize those footsteps anywhere.

"Escaping your own party, world champion?"

Oscar leaned against the railing beside her. "Needed some air."

"Too many people trying to hug you?" she teased. "I know how you hate showing emotion in public. Though after that champagne shower in Abu Dhabi…"

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Never," she grinned. "It's my favorite memory. The day Oscar Piastri admitted he had feelings."

He was quiet for a moment, fidgeting with his glass. "Speaking of feelings…"

"Ooh, are we having a heart-to-heart? Should I record this rare moment?"

"Lily texted me." He blurted it out almost defensively.

YN's smile faltered for a split second before returning. "Oh! That's… that's great! You must be over the moon. I mean, you've been waiting for her to-"

"I blocked her number."

"You… what?"

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture she'd come to recognize. "She wanted to meet for coffee, talk about getting back together, but I just… I couldn't."

"Why not?" YN asked softly, even as her heart picked up speed.

"Because I think I'm falling for someone else," he said in a rush. "Have been for months, actually. Someone who never gave up on me even when I was being an absolute dick. Someone who somehow got past all my walls and made me laugh again. Someone who steals Lando's hoodies and makes terrible puns and calls me out on my bullshit and-"

She kissed him.

It wasn't a grand, dramatic kiss like in the movies. It was soft, quick, almost shy – but it shut him up immediately.

She pulled back, watching his stunned expression with amusement. "I always liked you, you idiot. You were just too busy being grumpy to notice."

"I… what?"

"The guy I've been telling Lando about for months? The one he keeps teasing me about? That's you, dummy."

"But you're always making fun of me!"

"Because you're cute when you're flustered! And it was the only way to get you to actually interact with me at first."

Oscar stared at her, processing. "So all those times you were 'accidentally' showing up wherever I was…"

"Lando might have helped with that," she admitted. "Though in my defense, you were being very stubborn about the whole 'I don't need friends' thing."

"I was an idiot, wasn't I?"

"The biggest," she agreed cheerfully. "But you're my idiot now. If you want to be, that is."

Instead of answering, Oscar pulled her closer and kissed her properly this time. She could feel him smiling against her lips.

"Finally!" Lando's voice made them jump apart. He was standing in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. "Do you know how exhausting it's been watching you two dance around each other?"

"How long have you been standing there?" YN asked.

"Long enough to know I was right all along," he beamed. "My best friends are in love!"

Oscar groaned. "I'm never going to hear the end of this."

"Never ever," Lando confirmed cheerfully. "Now come on, there's a party inside and I want to see everyone's faces when they find out!"

YN turned back to Oscar, who looked like he was contemplating murder. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about how to tell everyone?"

"I'm going to kill him."

"No, you're not," she said, pulling him closer. "You're going to kiss me again, and then we're going to go inside and face the music together."

"Or," he suggested, "we could stay here and kiss some more."

"Look who's being soft now," she teased.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

So he did.

(Inside, Lando was already planning how to work this into his best man speech – not that he'd tell them that just yet.)

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 219,048 others

yourinstagram 2 months of making mr grumpy smile (and yes, there's photographic evidence of the smiles now). who would've thought all it took was stealing his hoodies and annoying him until he fell in love with me 😌 ps: thanks @/landonorris for being the world's most obvious wingman

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username1 THIS IS SO CUUUUTE

username2 i’m crying. they’re the most adorable couple ver

username3 this is what osc deserves!!!

landonorris MY WORK HERE IS DONE

↳ oscarpiastri You're the worst best friend ever

↳ landonorris you're welcome mate 😘

↳ yourinstagram thank you for your service

charles_leclerc The grumpy one's gone soft

↳ yourinstagram he really has 🥰

↳ oscarpiastri I hate both of you

↳ yourinstagram no you don't x

↳ oscarpiastri ...no i don't ❤️

alex_albon aremember when he used to pretend he couldn't stand you

↳ yourinstagram look how that turned out

↳ oscarpiastri In my defense she was very annoying

↳ yourinstagram still am, you just think it's cute now

↳ oscarpiastri ...no comment

username4 BEST COUPLE IN THE PADDOCK

username5 the day oscar piastri used a heart emoji. historic.

oscarpiastri Fine. You win. 2 months of pretending to be annoyed by the most incredible girl who somehow sees past my "resting grumpy face" (your words, not mine). Thanks for not giving up on me even when i was being difficult. ps: that's my favorite hoodie you're wearing in the last photo, i want it back.

↳ yourinstagram no you don't, it looks better on me 😌

↳ oscarpiastri ...yeah it does

↳ landonorris Get a room you two 🙄

↳ yourinstagram says the guy who took half these photos without us knowing

↳ landonorris SOMEONE had to document the enemies to lovers arc

↳ yourinstagram i love you, grumpy ❤️

I fucking love the Internet

The problem is that America has beaten down its people for decades and gotten them weak and desperate and now promises a way out, a way to transcend and rise above, through selling out their fellow man. They encourage contempt and hatred as one way ticket to not being included with the masses being death marched to poverty or imprisonment or whatever other bitter end surely awaits the people they’re told are beneath them. An embarrassingly large chunk of white men are just straight up nazis these days as a way to dissociate from the rest of the carnage around them, even if they’re broke and uneducated and from an impoverished background themselves. They’ll vote for and align themselves with anything for a taste of power and control that makes them feel a little less helpless. The same goes for minorities. They’ll punch down if they think it’ll get them somewhere, even if in reality they’re punching sideways. I don’t know what else to say, really. Everybody is so incredibly hateful. We are a loveless, disrespectful nation. We are so spread thin by our government that we would sell each other out in a heartbeat for an ounce of relief. This is what we’ve come to.

It’s not even about Trump at this point. He’s gonna get in office and do whatever he does and it’s gonna be a mess but whatever. This is indicative of deeper problem. This is just the ugly consequence of the already present reality in this country that we all just despise each other. There is no solidarity and there is no love. Trump being in office or not doesn’t change the fact that America is a breeding ground for violent hatred. Trump has given people a shining example of how to give in to the worst parts of your human nature and make it the problem of everyone around them. I don’t even know what we’re supposed to do about that. I don’t know if that’s something we can come back from. And if anything COULD be done about it, Trump certainly wouldn’t do it. Honestly, Kamala probably wouldn’t have either. We are so deeply fucked.

However, I must say, if you voted for Trump, I hope that peace never finds you. Instead, I hope clarity strikes you someday like a clap of lightning and you have to live the rest of your life with the knowledge and guilt of what you’ve done and who you are as a person.

Love yall. Shit is so bleak but the world keeps spinning until it doesn’t, I guess. We can’t count on the government for literally even a shred of progress or hope so just keep up the good fight in your own personal lives. That’s literally the only thing to be done at this point. Stay safe out there. Maybe buy a gun.

mama we are following the rule of not believing anything you feel after 9pm. goodnight

Chocolate - The 1975

elijah hewson bf headcanons

a/n: im obsessed with this man and this band.

loves to lay his head in your lap while he plays his guitar, figuring out chord patterns for a new song hes writing

all the songs he writes are about you (duh), you're his muse. the boys constantly tease him for it but he loves it

has the cutest face when he's concentrated and you love it

loves to hold your hand, have his hands wrapped around your waist, hands on your lower back. any sort of touch

immediately finds you in the crowd and sings directly to you. he loves seeing you dance around in the back of the pit

rockstar bf x rockstar gf like its a must

wears on of your rings on a chain when you can't be at a show ( which is rare). loves to have a reminder of you

him and the boys are always asking for your feedback on new songs. you're always the one to hear it first

brings you on stage to sing a verse of a song with him. its giving "about you" vibes

going out to pubs just to show you off

still gets super nervous and flustered around you. even tho he is a major major flirt

going on tour with the band is your favorite thing ever, from joking with them on the tour bus to dancing at the venue

forever takes photobooth pictures with you. they always end up with him kissing all over your face. he keeps them everywhere, in his wallet, in his phone case, wherever he can

def friends to lovers, took him wayyy to long to make a move, but when he finally did he couldnt keep away from you

loves when you play with his curls. he knows how much you adore them and he loves you raking your fingers through it