my stupid birthday
Your birthday is the best day of the year. Until a cute guy ruins everything.
pairing: oscar piastri x reader
word count: 3k
tags: fluff, reader and oscar have the same birthday, very vague onesided enemies to lovers dynamic, university au, vague references to sex (no actual smut tho)
a/n: its my birthday! its oscars bday too! yaaaay!!! for obvious reasons, this is very self indulgent. also i wrote this instead of a paper i have due in two days but its fineeee. this is my first attempt at comedy so i hope u enjoy
The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, people are laughing. There is much pain in the world, but it's not on this campus, nor on this day.
It's the best day of the year – your birthday.
You woke up that day with a start, jumping out of bed with your hair impossibly untangled and your eye circles magically gone. There was a perpetual smile stuck on your face as you greeted your roommate, Lily, and jumped in the shower that met you with the perfect temperature.
As you made your way across campus, familiar faces smiled at you and wished you a happy birthday. The sun was beaming on your face, almost too hot if it wasn't for the gentle breeze caressing your skin. A perfect day.
The best part of your morning? The coffee at the campus café. Usually, you would get a simple iced coffee, but today, you could finally get that special, only once-a-year, delicious, salivating, gorgeous, ingenious iced vanilla mocha birthday-cake double espresso shaken-stirred-foamed brown sugar monstrosity. For free! If there was anything you loved more than your birthday, it was free coffee on your birthday.
You waited patiently on the smooth leather couch, clad in your favorite jeans and that white top that fit you perfectly, as your favorite barista floated around behind the bar.
"Birthday latte-"
You jumped, taking one step closer to the bar, a shining smile adorning your face. Ready for this day to get even better.
"For Oscar!"
Huh? Who?!
A tall figure gently brushes past you, making his way to the counter, pressing a 5-pound note into the barista's hand before taking his drink and leaving the café.
Hot embarrassment washes over you, frozen in that half-stride, an awkward smile stuck on your lips as you look around frantically. Your mind races, but only two thoughts are loud enough to make it to the forefront.
1. Oh no, everyone saw that and now thinks you're an awkward freak who's too full of herself.
2. Your birthday twin is so your type.
You push down the first thought, not letting anxiety get the better of you on your favorite day, focusing on the lingering feeling left behind from when he touched you. Oscar. You didn't see his face, only the broadness of his shoulders and the messy curl of his brown hair, which was enough to elevate your heart rate.
A moment later, the barista calls your name and you finally get your hands on your drink, wrapping your lips around the straw. Despite the sugary nonsense, a slightly burnt taste makes its way to the forefront, the kind that happens when the milk sits in the scalding pitcher for too long. The kind that happens when you know your drink is made from leftovers. You try to shake off the disappointment and make your way to your first lecture of the day.
After the most boring lecture of your life, you hurry down to the craft store across town, to buy decorations for your party.
There are a couple of things you hold sacred; coffee, parties and good interior design. Those three things collide on your birthday, so it is of utmost importance to you that your party is the sexiest and most exciting one of the year. The first step is, of course, securing good decorations. Birthday decorations are not a rarity, you can find them in any large store, but good decorations come from specialty shops, ones that aren't tacky or cringy. In your little student town, there's only one store like that and it's all the way on the other side of town, not that you minded the trek.
You push open the glass door of the craft store, ready to lay your eyes on the pastel streamers, tasteful balloons, environmentally friendly solo cups with white polka dots, maybe even the surprisingly cheap silver trays for all the yummy food you cooked yesterday. However, the shelves are empty.
Wait? What?
You're about to fall onto your knees in despair, knowing there's no other way for your party to look good if you can't get exactly those decorations, when the ding of the cash register grabs your attention.
A newly familiar figure stands at the register, pocketing his black leather wallet and grabbing the paper bag containing probably your niche and interesting decorations. You feel your eyes narrowing in resentment, as you catch a glimpse of his smile when he turns around. His face still isn't turned fully towards you, but you hear the soft timbre of a foreign accent that makes you weak in the knees.
No, this is war now, you think as you stalk away from the entrance to avoid this devilishly handsome devil of a man whom you share a birthday with. Haphazardly taking the leftover birthday decorations, the basic ones; bright rainbow streamers and balloons with stupid text like 'you're old now!' and march over to the register. As the woman who owns the store scans the banner that says 'it's giving birthday' you grabbed in a blind rage, you feel the emotions bleed out and embarrassment creeps in. For good measure, you grab some nondescript easter decorations that'll hopefully cover up this mess.
You breathe out a sigh, scan your card and think, well, at least the cake will be good.
Famous last words.
"There's no more chocolate mirror glaze cake with raspberry coulis?"
The bakery employee shakes her head sadly, "Unfortunately, we sold the last one half an hour ago. I could get you some alternatives to choose from?"
Your eyes fill with angry tears.
"But it's my birthday and this is my favorite cake." You say, wetly. "The bitterness of the dark chocolate and the sweet tartness of the raspberry."
The employee looks at you weirdly, which was valid considering your overreaction. "I'm really sorry, miss, but there's nothing I can do, we don't get another delivery of raspberry until tomorrow."
She points to a chocolate cake in the front of the large display. "This is a milk chocolate cake with strawberry jam, it's very similar and very tasty, too."
You wave her off and stalk out the door with a massive lump in your throat, until you realize you still need a cake and make your way inside again. Pointing randomly at the display, you end up buying a Victoria Sponge cake, still delicious, but simply not what you wanted. The entire day is not going according to plan, but at least you can look forward to your party. Stopping at the door, you suddenly remember the root cause of all of your birthday miseries and turn towards the bakery employee.
"Can I ask who bought the last raspberry cake?" You ask, already knowing the answer.
Without looking up, the employee answer with disinterest, "Some guy, brunette."
"You know his name?"
She looks up at you, shooting you a mildly annoyed look, "Girl, who do you think I am? Your RA?"
You apologize softly, turning to leave. Feeling bad for you, the bakery employee's eyes soften and she speaks up again.
"I think the name on his card was something with an O. Oliver, maybe."
You thank her and leave the bakery. This day couldn't get any worse, you think, until you check the time on your phone. It's just about five minutes after two o'clock, which means you're about five minutes too late to book the bar in your dorm.
On the last floor of every dorm building, your university transformed the spaces into a kind of common area, equipped with all kinds of gaming equipment, billiards and darts, a bar area (the alcohol is stocked by the students) and more space than anyone needs to host a good party. It's the norm that every non-fraternity party was hosted in the bar of whatever dorm building you're residing in. Last year, the rule was implemented that you could only book the room day-of, starting at two o'clock', because of an annoying freshmen group that booked the room out for a whole month.
Your chances of booking the room are already low, but not zero, you think as you sprint towards the bus stop. A quiet part of you hoped that Oscar What's-His-Face didn't live in your building.
A downpour caught you on the way to the building, your beautiful day turning sour even on the outside, leaving you soaking wet in front of your RA's door, who unsympathetically told you the room has been booked.
"By who?" Exasperated by this day, you snap, water dripping from your hair onto the carpeted floor.
"Oscar Piastri." He replies.
"He's in our building?"
"Yeah, he's in our year, too. Don't you know him?" Your RA replies, eying the wet patch in front of his door with disdain.
"No, I don't fucking know him." You cross your arms angrily, thinking of all the food you made and the money you spent on this party, "Can you make this one exception? For my birthday party?"
He sighs, exasperated by your presence, "It's his party, too. I'm sorry, but he was first."
You pout.
"And I heard he has a chocolate mirror glaze cake with raspberry coulis." He licks his lips, eyes wandering off into nothing. "Yum."
The straw that broke the camel's back, they say, leaving you crying on your roommate's bed.
"Lily, what am I going to do? I can't spend my birthday like this."
Her and her boyfriend's, Alex, phones ding at that moment.
She starts reading the message aloud, "Dear friends, I'm inviting you to my birthday this evening in dorm 81, starting today at eight-"
You snatch the phone out of her hand, eyes widening.
"No! I forgot to cancel the invite! Fuuuuuuck, what am I gonna do?" You wail, already drafting the most embarrassing message of your life to all of your friends on campus.
Lily pats your head gently, "There, there. It's gonna be alright."
Alex joins in, handing you a tissue to wipe your face with, "Yeah, we can find something else to do to celebrate, like go to the bar on Main street?"
"No, I hate that place." You shake your head stubbornly, dabbing your undereyes gently.
The couple share a meaningful look, before their phones ding again.
Alex picks up his phone, reading the message, "It's from Oscar, he's inviting us to his party tonight."
Your ears perk up, snapping your head up to look at him quickly enough to give you whiplash.
Lily leans over his shoulder, reading the message too. She turns to you and smiles brightly.
"We can go to there-"
"No!" You yell, interrupting her. "Fuck that guy!"
"Bro, what do you have against Osc?" Alex asks, defensively puffing his chest out.
"Everything!" You exclaim, getting up from the bed quickly to stare down at them.
"You're literally friends with the same people! How can you hate him?" Lily asks incredulously, which shocks you.
"Wait… You guys know him?"
They both nod, staring at you wide eyed.
"He's been my mate since freshman year." Alex continues, "Roommates with Lando, friends with Charles from high school, does engineering with Max and George,..."
As Alex continues naming every single mutual friend you have with Oscar, your anger still doesn't subside.
"I don't care! He ruined my birthday." You recount the story to Lily and Alex, who's gazes only turn more and more surprised at every new piece of information.
"Dude, that's not his fault, c'mon." Alex says, "He's over at 81A, go ask him if you can come to the party."
Lily grabs his arm, expression alarmed, before you pipe up again.
"Oh, I'll go talk to him alright."
Making your way to the room directly above you, body tensing, jaw clenching, eyes blazing, you knock on the door with more force than you've ever exuded.
Oscar opens the door, and your jaw drops.
He's obviously just gotten out of the shower, if his sopping wet hair is anything to go by. Or the towel slung low across his hips and nothing else. That one might be giving it away.
The expanse of his pale abdomen is littered with freckles that you take your sweet time looking over, lines of his abs just visible enough to be hot and not disturbing, shoulders wider than the ocean, tensed at the bicep, strong arms crossing at his gorgeous pecks, veins protruding, neck so thick you could imagine-
A cough snaps you out of the trance his gorgeous, strong, wide, gentle, massive, beautiful, built, handsome body that was sculpted by Greek gods had put you in.
Your eyes continue trailing his body, no better than a man.
Oscar coughs again, more forcefully this time, causing you to snap your head up to meet his gaze.
An even more devastating view than his body.
His hair was so wet it left droplets trailing down his sharp jaw, his tongue protruding out to catch it. The view of it peaking out of his pink lips left you weak in the knees, forcing you to focus in on his eyes, which were distracting enough that you didn't need to struggle to keep your gaze on them.
Oscar raises one eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe.
"Can I help you?"
You catch yourself etching his face into your memory once again, a burning feeling rising to your cheeks.
"Uhm…" You reply, so dumbly you've never felt dumber. "Party."
He leans forward slightly, as if he didn't hear you, eyebrows scrunching together, the clean smell of his aftershave filling your senses.
"What about it?"
You see the packaging from your favorite bakery in the apartment behind him, paper bag from the craft store strewn carelessly on the floor, empty plastic cup from the café left on the dining room table.
Rage fills you again, one that a beautiful man who's totally your type won't subdue again.
"You!" You start, loudly, an accusing finger jabbing at his wet chest.
Oscar's eyes widen slightly, leaning back as you get in his face, expression wild.
"It's my birthday, too!" You rage.
"O-okay?" He replies, confused. "Happy birthday?"
"Well, happy birthday to you, too!" You yell, catching the attention of other students nearby.
"Thanks, I guess." He replies, hand grabbing the doorknob, fully intending to slam the door in your face.
"No, wait." You bring your hands up to stop him. "Let me explain myself."
He pauses, letting you continue.
"You see, my birthday is my favorite day of the year." You begin, "Spring is finally warm enough, I can indulge in that stupid latte from the café and I plan the best party on campus."
Oscar just stares at you blankly.
"This year…" You breathe in a sigh. "You ruined all those plans!"
You pushed past him into the room, Oscar stumbles back in shock and quickly trails after you.
"Hey, you can't just-"
"You see this! You took all the good decorations from the craft store!" You pick up the paper bag, gently settling it on a chair in a way that won't crumple the decorations. "I used to be the only one who knew about that fucking store!"
"My coffee was bitter because the barista made yours first!" You take the plastic cup, throwing it in the trashbin that was already overflowing.
"You took my favorite cake from my favorite bakery!" You stare at the box sadly. "All I got was stupid Victoria sponge."
You turn to him finally, Oscar standing frozen just behind you. "And the worst part…" Your eyes fill with tears, "All my friends are going to your party because you got to the RA first!"
"Oh come on, I didn't mean any of that."
"You didn't even invite me to your party, jerk!" You wail.
"Yes, I did." Oscar replies, eyes softened.
"Don't lie, it doesn't suit you." Scoffing, you sit on the bed. "Even if you have that adorable fucking accent."
Oscar smirks, "You think my accent's adorable?"
You facepalm, pressing your hands into your face until your voice is completely muffled.
"What did you say?" He asks, sitting next to you. The warmth of his bare body radiates to you.
"I said I hate you." You repeat louder.
"Look at your phone." He says.
When you don't move, he whispers your name gently.
Slowly, you reach your hand into your pocket and take out your phone. Clicking the home , the screen lights up with a text from an unsaved number. It was the invite to Oscar's party.
"How'd you get my number?" You whisper, eyebrows drawn.
Oscar just stares at you for a moment, before he lets out the gentlest breath.
"I begged Lando to give it to me." He states, staring ahead blankly, "I've had a crush on you since orientation week."
Not trusting your hearing, you whip your head around to stare at him, eyes wide and unbelieving.
"Me?!" You ask, finger pointed at yourself, like a dumbass. "You're like the hottest guy I've ever seen, what are you on?"
He frowns, "Well, you're the hottest girl so…"
A laugh breaks out from your chest, feeling light for the first time that day. Oscar joins you soon after, shaking slightly, water dripping onto your jeans.
"Damn, we are so compatible." You state, getting up.
"Same taste in everything." He continues.
"Even matching birthdays." You conclude, the brightest smile on your face.
Starting to make your way out of the room, Oscar calls after you, "Where are you going?"
You turn, uncontrollable smile still on your face, "Well, I have to get ready for the party."
"You could get ready here." He gets up slowly.
"And wear what?" You whisper.
"Nothing." Oscar replies, leaning down so his breath fans across your face.
You grin, pushing him away gently, teasing. "Don't be so eager, baby."
"You can unwrap your present after, maybe."
He grasps his chest, feigning hurt. "What if I give you your present early?"
You tap your chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "We'll see if the party you're throwing me is good enough."
He laughs, nodding slightly.
And well, the party was a hit.
