sweet nothing | oscar piastri
oscar piastri x heiress!reader
I find myself runnin’ home to your sweet nothings
request : heiress of mclaren and oscar they meet at like a dinner at her estate or something and her dad or like father figure asks if oscar is single, and oscar says yes and her father figure tells them to go on a date and they end up going out maybe oscar is a lil asshole😊
You brush the dirt off your hands, glancing proudly at the roses you’ve just planted. The soil is warm under your fingers, and you lean back, wiping sweat from your forehead. A small smile plays on your lips as you admire the neat rows of blooms, but your peace is broken when you hear your name being called.
You turn, blinking against the sunlight, and spot your grandfather standing by the patio, his brows furrowed in that way he always does when he’s trying to look serious. Lando stands beside him, grinning widely, and next to him is someone you don’t recognize—a tall guy with messy brown hair and a quiet expression.
Your grandfather calls again, his voice a little sharper now. “Come here for a moment.”
You dust your hands off on your shorts and shuffle over, feeling the light breeze cool the sweat on your skin. Lando’s grin widens as you approach. “Still playing in the dirt, I see,” he teases.
“Always,” you respond, flashing him a playful smile. Your gaze drifts to the new guy, and your curiosity piques. He stands a little more stiffly than Lando, like he’s not quite sure what to do with himself. There’s something about the way he glances at you—polite, but distant—that makes you feel like you’re meeting someone important.
“This is Oscar Piastri,” Lando says, nudging the guy next to him. “Newest McLaren driver.”
Oscar smiles at you, though it’s small and a bit shy, like he’s not used to all the attention. “Hi,” he says, his accent lilting in a way that catches your attention.
“Hi,” you reply, a little awkward, but you can’t help but smile back. You try to remember if you’ve heard his name before, but your mind draws a blank. Racing was never something you followed closely, even if it was always around you.
Before you can say anything else, your grandfather clears his throat, his eyes twinkling with something that makes you uneasy. “Oscar’s a fine driver,” he says, his voice heavy with authority. “I think it would be good for you two to spend some time together.”
You blink, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “Wait… what?”
Your grandfather’s expression doesn’t falter. He crosses his arms, the hint of a smirk on his lips. “Oscar, are you single?” he asks, turning the conversation before you can even process what he’s suggesting.
Oscar looks a little startled, his eyes darting from your grandfather to you, then back again. “Uh, yes, sir,” he answers, and you notice his fingers fidget slightly, like he’s not sure how to react either.
“Good,” your grandfather replies, his tone firm. “Then I suggest you take my granddaughter out on a date.”
You feel your cheeks warm, your mouth dropping open slightly. “A—date?”
Oscar looks as surprised as you feel, and for a second, you’re not sure who’s more uncomfortable. But then he nods, his voice soft but steady. “If that’s what you want, sir.”
You don’t know what to say. You glance at Oscar, who looks just as confused as you are, but there’s something in his gaze—something careful and maybe even curious. He doesn’t seem like the type to argue with your grandfather, and honestly, neither are you.
Lando, ever the instigator, lets out a low chuckle. “Well, this just got interesting.”
You smile awkwardly, not sure what to make of it all. Oscar offers you a small, almost apologetic smile, and you feel a strange flutter in your chest. Maybe it won’t be so bad. He seems nice enough, and if nothing else, it’ll be a chance to get to know him.
The next day, you find yourself standing in front of a trendy restaurant in the heart of the city. It’s not the quiet, tucked-away café you were imagining, but rather a bustling spot with large windows, modern decor, and a steady stream of people coming and going. Your stomach twists with nervous excitement as you spot Oscar standing by the entrance, looking cool and collected in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans.
“Hey,” he greets you with a brief smile, his hands in his pockets. There’s a casual confidence in the way he stands, but something about his demeanor feels a little… distant, like he’s already halfway checked out of the conversation before it even begins.
“Hey,” you reply, smiling back as he steps aside to let you walk in first. The restaurant hums with energy—clinking glasses, soft chatter, and the occasional laugh. You feel a little out of place, like maybe this is fancier than you were expecting.
Oscar pulls out your chair, but there’s something about the motion that feels more like routine than a thoughtful gesture. As you sit down, he moves quickly to his own seat, already glancing at the menu like this is just another pit stop in his day.
“So, you like this place?” you ask, trying to break the ice.
“Yeah,” Oscar says with a short nod, eyes still scanning the menu. “It’s close by, and the food’s good.” His tone is polite, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s keeping things at arm’s length.
You fiddle with your napkin, glancing around at the other patrons—groups of friends laughing together, couples holding hands. You can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. You were hoping for something quieter, more personal, but this feels… different.
The waiter comes by, and you both place your orders. Oscar seems at ease, chatting with the waiter casually, but when his attention turns back to you, there’s a moment of awkward silence. You search for something to say, but it’s hard to get a read on him. He’s polite, sure, but there’s a wall up—one you can’t quite figure out how to get past.
“So, what do you do for fun?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation into something light.
Oscar leans back, shrugging a little. “Mostly training, to be honest. Racing takes up a lot of my time.”
You nod, not sure what to say next. He’s not giving you much to work with, and you start to wonder if this was a bad idea. Maybe he’s just busy, or maybe he’s just not interested. Either way, the conversation feels stilted, like you’re trying too hard to fill the gaps.
“Do you follow F1?” he asks, breaking the silence.
You bite your lip, feeling a little embarrassed. “Honestly, not really,” you admit. “I mean, I know about it because of my family, but I’ve never really been that into it.”
Oscar raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Kind of ironic, don’t you think?”
You flush slightly, not sure how to take that. “Yeah, I guess so.”
He doesn’t push further, just takes a sip of his water and glances out the window, his mind seemingly elsewhere. You feel a flicker of disappointment. This wasn’t how you imagined your first date going—Oscar seemed nice enough, but there’s a coolness to him that you can’t shake.
As the food arrives, you try to make the best of the situation, steering the conversation back to lighter topics. You talk about your garden again, hoping to spark some interest, but while Oscar listens, he doesn’t offer much in return. Every now and then, he glances at his phone, not enough to be rude, but enough to make you wonder if he’s distracted by something else.
“Sorry,” he says once, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Just… work stuff.”
You nod, trying to brush it off, but it adds to the growing sense that maybe this date isn’t a priority for him. You had expected a chance to connect, to get to know him beyond the racer image, but it feels like you’re barely scratching the surface.
Still, you don’t want to give up just yet.
“Have you always wanted to be a driver?” you ask, genuinely curious.
Oscar’s gaze flicks to you, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah, since I was a kid. I was pretty focused on it, even when I was younger. It’s all I’ve ever really wanted to do.”
For a moment, you see a glimpse of something more—a passion that runs deep, something that makes him tick. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone again, his expression neutral once more.
The rest of the meal passes in a blur of small talk and polite conversation, but the spark you had hoped for never really comes. As the check arrives, Oscar pulls out his card without hesitation, glancing at you with a half-smile.
“Ready to head out?” he asks.
You nod, feeling a little deflated, but you don’t want to show it. Maybe this was just a bad day for him. Maybe he’s just not the type to open up easily. Either way, you feel like there’s something you’re missing, something that keeps him at a distance.
As you both step out into the cool evening air, Oscar walks you to the curb where his car is parked. He pauses for a moment, looking at you, and for a brief second, you wonder if he’s going to say something that might change the tone of the evening.
But instead, he just smiles—a little tired, a little distracted. “It was nice hanging out with you,” he says, his tone polite but nothing more.
“Yeah, it was,” you reply, trying to match his energy, though the words feel hollow.
Oscar opens the car door for you, and as you slide in, you can’t help but wonder what’s really going on behind those guarded eyes. There’s something he’s not telling you—something that keeps him from fully being here with you.
As he drives you home, the silence between you grows, and you find yourself staring out the window, wondering if maybe you were hoping for too much too soon.
Despite the awkwardness of the first date, Oscar lingers in your thoughts more than you’d like to admit. There’s something about him—his quiet intensity, the way he carries himself—that draws you in, even if he hasn’t fully opened up to you yet. Maybe it’s just the mystery of it all. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s unlike anyone you’ve dated before.
Your crush sneaks up on you slowly. You catch yourself thinking about what you’ll wear next time you see him. You imagine different scenarios in your head—how the next date might go, whether he’ll be more relaxed, more present. You convince yourself that it’s just a matter of time.
When the next race rolls around, you decide to attend. You tell yourself it’s because you’re supporting McLaren, but deep down, you know it’s because of Oscar. Even though things were a little off between you two, there’s a part of you that’s eager to see him again. Maybe things will be different this time.
The race is packed with spectators, and the air hums with excitement. As you weave through the crowds, you feel a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Watching Oscar on the track feels different now—you’re not just another fan in the stands. You’re here for him, and that thought makes your heart race a little faster.
The race itself is thrilling, and you can’t help but feel happiness as Oscar crosses the finish line. He doesn’t win, but he holds his own, finishing in a solid position. You smile, thinking about how you’ll congratulate him afterward.
After the race, you find your way to the paddock, your heart pounding in your chest as you spot Oscar among the throngs of people. He’s surrounded by his team, all smiles and handshakes as they celebrate a job well done. When he sees you, his expression flickers for a moment—recognition, maybe a touch of something softer—but it’s gone just as quickly as it appears.
“Hey,” you greet him, your voice a little too bright. “Congrats on the race.”
“Thanks,” Oscar replies, offering you a polite smile. His demeanor is cool, but not unfriendly—just… reserved. You start to notice the subtle distance between you, like he’s here, but not entirely.
“Maybe we could grab a drink later?” you suggest, your tone casual, but your nerves bubbling beneath the surface.
Oscar glances at his watch, then back at you. “Yeah, maybe. Let’s see how the rest of the day goes.”
It’s not a no, but it’s not exactly the enthusiastic yes you were hoping for either. Still, you brush it off, telling yourself that he’s probably just tired from the race.
You stand there for a moment, watching Oscar disappear into the crowd. There’s a strange feeling lingering in your chest—something about the interaction seemed… off. But before you can get too deep in your thoughts, a familiar voice breaks through.
“Already scaring him off?” Lando teases, sidling up to you with his usual playful grin.
You turn to him, laughing despite yourself. “Please, Lando. I’m not that terrifying.”
He leans against the nearby barrier, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye. “Nah, just a little intimidating with your… I don’t know, your knowledge of roses or whatever.”
You roll your eyes, giving him a light shove. “Not my fault you have no appreciation for fine horticulture.”
“Fine horticulture,” he repeats with mock seriousness, his lips twitching into a smirk. “But seriously, how’s it going? Did Oscar hit you with that ‘strong and silent’ routine, or is he actually saying words now?”
You pause, trying to figure out how to answer. “He’s… quiet, yeah. But I think there’s more to him than he lets on.”
Lando hums, crossing his arms. “Oh, there’s definitely more. Just give him time. Maybe flash him a few more of those smiles—you know, the ones that make people all… swoony.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “I’ll be sure to use my superpowers wisely, then.”
Before Lando can retort, Oscar’s figure appears again, cutting through the crowd and making his way back toward you both. You feel a flutter of surprise. He was distant before, but now there’s a new intensity in his gaze.
“Hey,” Oscar says, glancing briefly at Lando before turning to you. “I was thinking, maybe we could grab those drinks after all?”
You blink, taken aback. “Yeah? I thought you weren’t sure about it earlier.”
Oscar shrugs slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting into the faintest of smiles. “Changed my mind. If you’re still up for it.”
Lando snickers quietly next to you, clearly amused by the shift in Oscar’s tone. “Well, that sounds like a yes to me.”
You can’t help but smile, a warm excitement bubbling up inside you. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
The bar Oscar takes you to is tucked away in the city, with low lighting and soft music humming in the background. It’s more intimate than the first restaurant—smaller, cozier. It makes you feel like this is something real, like there’s something between you both that’s beginning to take shape.
You sit across from each other at a small table, nursing drinks, and for a while, the conversation flows. Oscar’s a bit more relaxed than usual, and it makes you feel like maybe you’re finally cracking the surface, finally getting to see the person behind the cool, quiet exterior.
“So,” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “What made you change your mind? You seemed… hesitant before.”
Oscar looks at you for a moment, like he’s trying to come up with the right words. “I guess I just thought it might be fun after all. Figured it couldn’t hurt to get to know each other better.”
You smile, feeling a flutter of hope. “Yeah. I’m glad you did.”
For a few more minutes, the conversation rolls on, and you find yourself leaning into it—into him. He’s attentive, even charming in his own way, and you can’t help but feel your heart begin to race a little faster. But then, just as things seem to settle into a comfortable rhythm, his phone lights up on the table.
You catch a glimpse of the screen out of the corner of your eye—a name you don’t recognize, followed by a few messages that he quickly swipes away without reading. It’s subtle, almost like he’s trying not to let you see it, but the moment leaves a faint unease in the back of your mind.
You push the feeling aside, convincing yourself it’s nothing. Probably just a friend or someone from the team. But when his phone lights up again, this time with a more persistent vibration, it’s harder to ignore.
“Everything okay?” you ask, trying to keep your voice casual.
“Yeah,” Oscar says, his tone clipped as he checks his phone again before silencing it. “Just some messages. Nothing important.”
You nod, but the way he’s so quick to brush it off leaves you feeling unsettled. It’s like there’s a part of him still walled off, something he’s not telling you. But you don’t press, don’t want to ruin the moment.
As the evening goes on, you notice him glancing at his phone a few more times. The distraction is subtle, but it’s there, casting a small shadow over what otherwise feels like a perfect night.
You try to brush it off, reminding yourself that he’s a busy guy—he probably has a million things going on at once. But as the drinks dwindle and the conversation slows, you can’t help but feel like there’s something—or someone—else that’s occupying his thoughts.
The days after your drink date are… strange. You had hoped that spending more time with Oscar would bring you closer together, but instead, things feel more distant than ever. He’s not cold, not exactly, but there’s a guardedness to him that wasn’t there before.
He texts you, asks how you’re doing, but it’s never as warm as you want it to be. You tell yourself that maybe he’s just busy, that it’s just part of being a driver in such a high-stakes sport. But deep down, there’s a little voice in your head whispering that something isn’t right.
You push it aside, trying to focus on the excitement of seeing him again. When he suggests going to the beach, you jump at the chance, eager to spend more time with him.
The breeze is warm, a gentle contrast to the coolness of the sand beneath your feet as you walk side by side with Oscar. The beach is quieter than usual, only a few scattered people, and the rhythmic crash of the waves fills the gaps between your conversation. There’s a lightness to the moment—a sense of possibility. You sneak a glance at Oscar, feeling a small spark of excitement flutter in your chest.
You tell yourself not to read too much into it. But there’s a softness in his smile when he looks at you, a hint of something more, and you can’t help but wonder if this is what falling for someone is supposed to feel like.
“You’ve been quiet,” Oscar says, his voice cutting through the hum of the waves. He nudges you lightly with his arm, a playful gesture that makes you smile despite the nervousness you’ve felt creeping in since the start of the date.
“Just… thinking,” you reply, your eyes drifting out to the horizon where the sun is starting to dip low. “This is nice, though. I like spending time with you.”
You mean it. Despite the moments of awkwardness and the hesitations that have clouded your other dates, something about being here—walking with him along the shoreline—feels right. You’ve never had a relationship that felt this natural before. There’s always been some underlying expectation, some hidden motive from the people in your life who wanted you for your family’s name and status.
But with Oscar, you want to believe it’s different. You want to believe he likes you for you.
Oscar clears his throat, breaking the moment. “Yeah, it’s been good,” he says, his tone almost too casual. There’s a flicker of discomfort behind his words, like he’s trying to keep things light.
Before you can dwell on it, a voice cuts through the air, drawing both of your attentions.
“Oscar! Is that really you?”
You turn, and your heart sinks as you see a tall, stunning woman walking toward the two of you. She’s dressed effortlessly, her dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, and she carries herself with a confidence that immediately makes you feel small.
Oscar’s reaction is immediate—his posture stiffens, his eyes darting away from yours as he rubs the back of his neck. “Hey, uh… didn’t expect to see you here.
Her eyes flick between you and Oscar, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she takes in the sight of you together. “It’s been a while,” she says, her tone smooth, easy. “Didn’t think you’d be back in town.”
You stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say, and the moment stretches painfully long. The familiarity between them is palpable, and a sinking feeling starts to form in your stomach.
“I’m just here for a bit,” Oscar replies, his voice suddenly lacking the warmth it had moments ago. He seems uncomfortable—like he’s trying to get through this interaction as quickly as possible.
The woman shifts her gaze to you, her smile widening just enough to make you feel scrutinized. “And who’s this?” she asks, as if you’re a new accessory she’s appraising.
You offer a small, polite smile, though your chest feels tight. “I’m—”
“Just a friend,” Oscar cuts in quickly, his voice sharp and clipped.
The words hang in the air, and your breath catches. You look at him, confused, hurt—but he won’t meet your gaze. The woman gives a small, almost amused laugh before waving it off.
“Well, I won’t keep you,” she says with a teasing tone, her eyes lingering on Oscar for just a second too long. “Catch you later, Piastri.”
With that, she walks away, her footsteps light on the sand, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. The sound of the waves seems distant now, like you’re underwater, and the weight of what Oscar just said presses heavily on your chest.
Just a friend.
You force yourself to swallow the lump forming in your throat, pretending the words didn’t sting as much as they did. “Who was that?” you ask quietly, trying to keep your voice steady.
Oscar sighs, his hand dropping to his side. “No one important,” he says, though the tension in his voice betrays him. He turns to look at you, but there’s something distant in his eyes—something guarded that wasn’t there before.
You nod slowly, feeling a pang of disappointment settle deep in your chest. The connection you thought you were building suddenly feels fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.
For the rest of the walk along the beach, neither of you says much. The easy conversation, the subtle glances—all of it feels like it’s gone. Replaced by a silence that only grows heavier with each step.
You’re quiet when you get home, your heart heavy with the weight of everything that happened at the beach. You try to shake it off, but the look in Oscar’s eyes, the tension between him and Ellie—it’s all you can think about.
Your grandfather is in the sitting room when you walk in, his expression softening when he sees you.
“How was the date?” he asks, his voice gentle.
You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. You want to tell him it was fine, that everything’s okay—but you can’t lie. Not this time.
“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling, “don’t force people to like me.”
Your grandfather’s face falls, his brow furrowing in concern. He reaches out to you, but you pull away, the tears already starting to form.
“I just… I don’t want to be an obligation,” you say, your voice breaking. “I want someone to like me because they want to—not because they feel like they have to.”
That night, after you’ve retreated to your room, your grandfather makes a call. He doesn’t tell you about it, doesn’t let on that he’s taken matters into his own hands. When Oscar picks up, he’s met with your grandfather’s firm voice.
“I’m sending the two of you to the ranch in Texas,” your grandfather says. “You’ll leave tomorrow.”
Oscar tries to protest, but your grandfather won’t hear it. “You’ll go,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You owe her that much.”
You sat in the plush leather seat of your grandfather’s private jet, the tension between you and Oscar thick and palpable. Neither of you had spoken much since the beach incident, and you weren’t sure how you felt about being sent off to Texas together. The thought of spending more time with him, especially after everything that had happened, made your stomach churn.
Oscar sat across from you, his eyes flickering up occasionally, as if he was gathering the courage to say something, but each time, the words seemed to die in his throat. You focused on the window instead, watching the runway lights blur as the plane took off.
“I know you’re upset,” Oscar finally said, breaking the silence, his voice quiet yet steady. “I want to explain, but I don’t think words are enough right now.”
You glanced at him, biting the inside of your cheek. Part of you wanted to hear him out, to understand why he had been so distant, but another part of you didn’t care anymore. The truth was, you felt used—like you were just another part of the game, just another person he didn’t really care about.
“I don’t want to hear it right now,” you said, shaking your head. “We’ll go on this trip, but when we get back to London, we tell my grandfather that it didn’t work out. And Oscar…” You hesitated, the weight of your next words crushing you. “Please don’t let anyone know that I was the other woman.”
Oscar’s face twisted, regret filling his expression. “I swear, I won’t say a word.”
You nodded, turning away from him. The rest of the flight passed in heavy silence.
When you arrived in Texas, the sprawling estate greeted you with its endless fields and the familiar scent of wildflowers. Despite the awkwardness between you and Oscar, the comfort of being home, away from the pressures of your world, settled over you. As soon as you were alone, you made your way to the garden.
The garden had always been your escape—a place where you could get lost in the rhythm of tending to the plants. As you knelt in the dirt, your fingers delicately brushing over the leaves of the roses, you found solace in the simplicity of the task. You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, but the sun was starting to dip low in the sky when you finally stood up, wiping your dirty hands on your jeans.
Unbeknownst to you, Oscar had been watching from a distance. He stayed near the old oak tree at the edge of the garden, watching as you moved gracefully through the rows of flowers, completely absorbed in your work. There was something peaceful about the way you lost yourself here—so different from the world of fast cars and expectations.
He leaned back against the tree, his mind racing. He wasn’t sure how he’d fix this—how he could make things right after everything he had done. Watching you, Oscar realized how much he had hurt you, and it wasn’t just the beach incident that weighed on him. It was everything—the emotional distance, the Ellie situation, the lies he had told himself.
But for now, he kept his distance, unsure of how to approach you or if you’d even want him to. You, lost in your world of flowers and dirt, were completely unaware of his gaze.
As the night crept in, you finally left the garden, retreating back inside the house. Oscar stayed behind, his thoughts heavy. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t thinking about his career, his public image, or what other people wanted from him. He was thinking about you.
The morning sun was bright as you headed to the stables, hoping a horseback ride might clear your head. Despite still being upset with Oscar, you welcomed the chance to be alone in the fresh air.
As you prepared your horse, Oscar approached, looking out of place. He glanced around nervously and gave you a hesitant smile.
“Morning,” he said. “I thought I’d join you, if that’s okay.”
You barely glanced at him, focusing on securing your saddle. “Sure. If you think you’re up for it.”
Oscar tried to act composed, though his eyes darted nervously at the horses. He awkwardly mounted his steed with the help of a stable hand, gripping the reins as if they were a lifeline.
As you led the way onto the trail, your horse trotting confidently, Oscar’s horse lagged behind, its rider stiff and uncertain. You could hear him muttering to himself, trying to calm his nerves.
“So, what’s it like riding horses?” Oscar called out, his voice a bit too loud, trying to mask his fear.
“It’s not as bad as you think,” you replied curtly, keeping your distance both physically and emotionally. You weren’t in the mood for small talk, especially not with Oscar, given the recent tension.
The trail wound through picturesque fields, and as the minutes passed, Oscar’s discomfort was evident. His horse seemed to be enjoying itself a little too much, leading to a few unplanned jolts that made Oscar clutch the reins tightly.
At one point, his horse decided to trot faster, and Oscar’s face turned pale as he tried to control it. “I think it’s going to bolt!” he shouted, trying to sound calm but clearly panicking.
You slowed your horse, turning to watch with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. “Just breathe and let the horse do the work. It’s not going to run off.”
Oscar managed to regain some control, though he looked more like he was bracing for a bumpy ride than enjoying it. “Easy for you to say,” he replied, trying to laugh off his fear. “You make it look so effortless.”
You remained distant, nodding but not engaging further. “Just keep your hands steady and trust the horse.”
By the time you returned to the stables, Oscar dismounted with an audible sigh of relief. His face was flushed, but there was a small smile of accomplishment as he looked at you. “Thanks for letting me tag along. I guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought, but I think I’ll stick to less adventurous activities in the future.”
You gave a noncommittal nod, barely meeting his eyes. “You did alright. Maybe next time, we’ll try something less… unpredictable.”
Finally, the time came to return to London. The flight was quiet, each of you lost in your own thoughts. When you arrived back at your grandfather’s estate, you both faced him, sitting in his study.
“We talked,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “And we’ve decided that it’s best if we just remain friends.”
Your grandfather’s gaze shifted between you and Oscar, disappointment and concern etched on his face. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” you affirmed, nodding firmly. “It’s the best decision for both of us.”
Oscar added, “I appreciate everything your grandfather’s done for me, but I agree. We should just be friends.”
Your grandfather sighed, looking at Oscar with a mix of sympathy and understanding. “Very well. I’ll respect your decision.”
As you and Oscar left the study, you found yourself rushing toward your room, letting the tears fall freely down your cheeks.
You weren’t sure why you were crying, maybe it’s because you genuinely felt something with him or you thought you did.
Oscar Piastri was making you go crazy.
Beachy’s notes🐚: Mama is a lil rusty😞
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Context: They're walking back to their shared dorm.
"Don't you worry what people think when they see you with me?"
This time the pull inside his gut wasn't as bad, still Bradley couldn't find it in himself to look at Max.
"You know", Max said. "I'm amazed every time I remember you managed to make an entire campus believe you're this untouchable ego-king." He cocked his head, looking at Bradley with caring eyes. "When in reality, you have pretty much no self-esteem."
Bradley kicked a pebble on the floor.
"If you only ever interact with people on a shallow basis, it's pretty easy to pretend", Bradley said with a shrug. "And before you, the only person I ever actually talked to was Tank."
"Well, then I consider myself honored to be one of the few people allowed to see your real self", Max said and the smile on his lips was so fond that it left no doubt he actually meant it.
Bradley didn’t deserve him.
"And to put your mind to rest," Max said, his thumb running along Bradley's palm again, sending shivers through his traitorous body. "If it was possible I'd let the whole world know that I am dating Bradley Uppercrust the third, and that I'm so, so very happy about the fact."
Bradley felt that fragile thing inside his chest again. His cheeks burned and he didn't try to hide it. There was a lump building in his throat, and Bradley swallowed it down. If it was just Max, maybe he'd let his emotions run free, but there was just no way he'd let a single tear slip when he was outside, in bright daylight.
"I'm very happy too", he said and his voice was barely audible even to his own ears.
Max’ smile was booming. He looked at Bradley like he was the most precious thing he'd ever seen.
The thought alone made his heart swell with unbearable warmth. The thought that Braldey might be precious to Max.
"Wait", Max said, eyes growing big. "I have an idea."
He abruptly stopped on the sidewalk, almost making a guy on a skateboard bump into them.
"Yo, watch your step!"
Max completely ignored him, instead looking at Bradley with wide eyes and a smile that told him he was up to no good.
"Max?", he asked, his voice wary.
"Two flies with one strike", Max blurted.
"What?"
"You're worried people will judge me for being with you, and you're scared people will realize you're a complete softie for me."
Bradley frowned. "Well, I wouldn't say it like that- "
"I'll proof to you that I don't give a fuck about what people think and draw all attention from you."
Max sounded more than excited now. Bradley was surprised he didn't see a tail wagging behind his back.
"Goof, I have no idea what you’re talking about", Bradley said, crossing his arms.
Max's smile only grew.
"See those people?", he asked.
They were close to the dorms now. There weren't as many people here as there had been by the main building, but it was the middle of the day and most students were on their way to lectures.
"I do", Bradley said, still lost on what Max was trying to tell him. "What about them?"
There was now a full-on grin on Max' face. "People won't even think of painting you the love-sick one when they see that I'm far worse."
"Wha- "
But it clicked.
If possible, Max’ grin grew even wider.
"Goof", Bradley warned. "Don't do something you'll regre- "
"Hey, everyone!", Max yelled, spinning around with his arms spread wide open.
Pretty much everyone within earshot turned at the sound of his booming voice. He was their golden boy after all.
"Max!", Bradley hissed, hiding half of his face behind one hand.
People even stopped on both sides of the sidewalk to listen to what Max had to say, smiles on their lips and curiosity in their eyes.
"I'm dating Bradley Uppercrust!", Max yelled and Bradley's heart did a painful jump inside his chest. "I'm down bad and I'm super happy!"
People's eyes went wide, a universal murmur filling the campus street.
"No", Braldey said, turning on his heel and power walking away from him.
He felt his heart thundering inside his chest, a mix of adrenalin and euphoria setting his insides alight. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening.
He heard Max laughing behind him, and then warm fingers wrapped around his wrist.
"Wait for me, Brad!", he called, giggling. "People will think I'm a liar."
"What are you doing!?", he hissed, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from rising.
"Telling everyone how down-bad for you I am", Max answered with the sun in his eyes.
"People will talk!" There was a quiver in his voice, he only barely contained the laughter bubbling up his chest.
"I sure hope they will", Max said, a giddy chuckle in his voice.
"You're mad", Bradley scolded, but no matter how hard he tried to contain it, he couldn't keep the giggle from his voice.
"Only because I wanna kiss you so bad right now", Max said with a dopey grin, his fingers pressing down around Bradley's hand.
Bradley blushed, almost stumbling as they walked towards the nearing dorms in hurried steps.
"You can kiss me all you want once we're back home again", Bradley said, almost feeling ashamed at his own boldness.
But no shame could fester inside his chest when Max looked at him like that. His warm brown eyes widened in surprise, his pupils slightly blown at Bradley's promise.
"Hurry up or I'll carry you", Max said, pulling Bradley along.
+
From chapter 10 of 'Good Luck, Babe!' on ao3.
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