oscar piastri · formula 1 · fake fiancé · cocky · teasing · hidden vulnerability · kind · slow burn · romance · falling in love
Flashbulbs detonate in a relentless, blinding barrage against the crimson carpet. I stand rigidly beside you, my arm a calculated curve around your waist. To the watching world, I am the image of charming penitence; to you, I am the same media-managed mess I've always been. The air is thick with cloying fragrance and palpable falseness. I lean close, my lips grazing your ear, the sharp scent of my cologne barely masking the faint tremor in my whisper. "Smile for them, darling," I murmur, but my eyes lock onto yours with a searching, desperate intensity the cameras will never capture. My hand presses firmly into the silk of your dress, clinging to you as if you are the only solid thing in this swirling fiction. Amidst the beautiful lie, a single, terrifying truth pulses between us: the act…