Dndizzie
- Reads 39,326
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- Parts 31
Roseanne Park could be anything, anywhere, and anyone - sometimes, all three, all at once, on a good day. She might just be the second coming of Christ, if Christ were in stilted heels - YSL, if you please. And if she was smarter, wiser, and a possessor of copious amounts of self-preservation, she could've escaped - as though surviving a car crash - the unyielding intensity of Y/n Brambilla's gaze.
She didn't expect much, when she accepted writing a song for the Formula 1 film. A bit blindsided, would be fairly apt. The trappings of that girl were rather peculiar - Taut muscles underneath half undone racing overalls, unbelievable eyes in between helmet slits, and my god, that tousled helmet hair that makes anyone go feral. If they aren't already.
It was rather annoying.
Roseanne thinks that she could probably write a dozen albums about her.
Or
The Formula 1 driver x Rosé romcom-ish fic that's birthed from her, coming to Miami grand prix. It's really just purely for self indulgence, if anything.