#tankyaps

He comes from.. silver spoon, golden rule, private school never missed Sunday church. And I come from blue collar, low dollar, out here where concrete meets old red dirt.

OR

what happens when a formula one driver takes a trip to California and meets a rancher?

Tags: Oscar Piastri x reader, gn!reader, cowboy!reader, vague references to linguistics student!reader, indigenous!reader if you squint, author is too deep into sb culture, reader is so aggressively american, loserboy Oscar, reader is a badass

warnings: reader ain't gendered but their hair is long, my grammar is incredibly rural, possible ooc Oscar, reader is nicknamed red for reasons I’ll get into if I want to

AN: this has a very niche market and the market is me hehe. If you care enough, the farm imagined is Nojoqui Falls Ranch in California! If anyone wants a part two, I’ll tag you!

credit to @cafekitsune for the divider!!

Oscar was driving on a dirt road. The summer break had brought him to Southern California, and.. why not ride a horse? He hadn't been on one since he was a kid at a fair with Logan.

He parked, walked to the barn like the website said, and waited. An employee, presumably his teacher for the day, walked over. Tanned skin, cut off tee that read "Hollow Point Ranch", light wash jeans, and a patterned belt. Their hair was put back in two braids. Pretty, he thought.

No. Not pretty. You cannot think your teacher is pretty. Stop.

They looked him over "you the private trail ride and lesson for today?"

"Uh.. yeah. That's me. I'm Oscar" he put out a hand for them to shake

"Red" they offered in return, shaking his hand. Their voice had a drawl to it, not like the south, but something unique to the Santa Barbaran population.

"You wanna get up on it?" they raised a brow, waiting for him. "Oh. Uh. Yeah"

They took him over to the ties, taught him how to be around a horse, and took him up to the mounting block. The horse's name was Jackie.

The next hour was a lot of "Oscar do you know what heels down toes up means?" and "at-t-t-t, you keep your ass firmly in that saddle, no bullshit English posting here."

Somehow, the rude phrasing wasn't hurtful. It just.. was. Like that's how they were. Like they knew what their career would hold. Not like Oscar, who didn't even know where he would be post 2026.

He snapped out of it with a well punctuated "Heels down!"

When he was done, he earned small claps as he got off. "Alrighty. Water, I'm gonna go get my hat, then trail ride"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5 minutes later, they were back in a straw cowboy hat and gaiter. "Hey pretty boy, you bring a gaiter? Or sunglasses? Or anything that's on the recommended list of equipment?" Oscar nodded and pulled his gaiter mask and sunglasses from his pocket. "what's this for?" he asked as he stepped on the mounting block. Red grinned. "The dust."

They walked him out, and with their horse, Bandit in hand, mounted quickly. "move on" they said clearly, getting up in front of Oscar, "put your heels in him, and let off them reins before you confuse him. He won't ride otherwise." They called over their shoulder. Oscar nodded, a little sheepish, and did as he was told.

"Where you from?" y/n asked

"Uhh.. Australia. Went to school in England though"

"ah. knew I was right about the voice."

Oscar just nodded. Watched them. The little movements in their hips, in tandem with their horse, Bandit. Natural. Clean.

Oscar took photos when they got to the top, as did they. Not many, but enough. They talked some. Oscar talked about everything. His trip so far, the bad food in some pink restaurant that he had seen on the internet. Even snapped a couple of them in the corner of the “landscape” photos.

They were sweet. A little rough around the edges, but sweet. He started trying to get to know them.

“So.. where are you from?” He asked finally.

“Here. Goleta, technically. You?”

“Uh.. Melbourne”

“Right. That’s neat”

“What do you do for work?” Red asked, head tilting even though they were calling back to him.

“Uhm.. I’m a driver. I.. I race cars”

“In a fast and furious way or a nascar way?”

“Uhm.. a race car way?”

For a moment, Oscar could convince himself they looked impressed. “You drive in indycar?”

Damn. Not quite.

“Uh, no. Formula one. Kinda like indycar, similar cars” he admitted, a little sheepish.

They laughed. Laughed. At him.

“I know what formula one is”

“Oh. I just figured you’d know what indycar was. Because.. uhm. Rural America- wait you do?"

They nodded “yeah. I do. Put your gaiter back up, it’s getting dusty”

—

Once the two had gotten to the top, he took a lot of photos. Some with them in them. He said for memories. He did not include the other reason. Because absolutely were not cute.

Soon, they were back. Red dismounted like it was the easiest thing in the world. Oscar struggled ever so slightly. They put the horses into the stalls and took the tack off while y/n, as he had learned their real name was, rambled about the purpose of each. The ranch kids came over to groom them as they continued.

"and well, the latigo is important because it's the thing keeping the saddle tight. Most horses will puff out their chests at the ties, so you gotta tighten it again before ya mount. Also gotta condition it plenty. I used a leather latigo once on a trail ride, last minute guide switch at this place up north and it wasn’t kept nice at all or apparently looked at-“ they cut themselves of “point of the story is it snapped. And I fell pretty damn hard.. boy did that hurt."

They paused everything they were doing for a second, almost as if trying to remember something.

“Oh. Those photos from my phone. Would you like me to send em to you?”

“Oh, yeah. Please”

They pulled their phone from their boot. “Do you want me to airdrop them to you?”

Oscar. Think. Quickly.

“Oh, uhm. My airdrop doesn’t really.. work.” He lied. Hoping. Hoping.

Really Oscar? That's what you came up with? This is why you're a driver and not an engineer.

“It’s alright. I trust you not to send me your dick pics. What’s your number?”

Jesus. That was blunt.

Oscar rattled off his number while they inputted it.

A moment later, once his phone had buzzed, they had handed over a business card. "In case you wanna ride something other than slipstreams" they said, handing it over. Oscar flushed, whether from embarrassment at the implication he didn’t win or the implication that he’d be riding them, he wasn’t sure.

"Can I tip you?"

They waved their hand dismissively. He still put the $20 in their hands.

—

Around 7:45 that night, he got bored of everything and the part of his brain screaming “ask them out” finally won. He opened their messages and started typing.

Me: Hey it's Oscar from today. I think you know that tho. Just wanted to know if you were doing anything tonight or this week or whatever? Riding with you was fun

Cowboy: Oh yeah, hi haha. I'm down for another ride. you'd have to book through the website though, I'm not allowed to schedule, something about my calendar skills being horrible. I think they’re amazing. Also legally not allowed to take you on a family horse unfortunately, Janie would have my head.

Me: oh alright then. I didn’t quite mean a ride though.

He vaguely remembered getting an email from a woman named Janie to confirm his appointment. Program director, maybe?

Cowboy:oh? What did ya have in mind?

Me: not sure yet tbh, I’ll get back to you

The conversation continued from there, moving on between work talk and personal life. They talked about everything from the basics of his work life to her time on the rodeo circuit. Oscar liked to think he would have loved to see that.

Eventually, they had to go to bed. Something about a hay shipment and no hay hooks, whatever those were.

Cowboy: good talking to ya. G’night cricket

Cricket?? What the hell did Oscar’s secondary school cricket playing have to do with this conversation??

Me: night cowboy

Internally, he was losing it. He texted Lando, who said they were pretty. Oscar was already fantasizing about them wearing a Mclaren jersey at a race. Maybe Austin. Because of the hat. Or maybe they’d wear a ball cap just for him.

With a groan, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Get it together Piastri” he murmured, trying to remember what he planned this trip for.

The next day, he went to the grocery store for some crisps. They were in the aisle as well, hair in a backwards cap, debating whether they wanted a Red Bull with a friend. He pretended not to see them, keeping his head low and getting out quickly.

-----

At 5:30 pm, Oscar decided to text them.

Me: Hey, you doing anything? I know it’s late but I wanted to see you.

Two minutes later, he was graced with a response.

Cowboy: I'm driving home rn. Give me.. thirty minutes. Where are we going?

Oscar paused. Shit. He hadn't thought that far.

Bar? maybe they’d think he was trying to get them drunk. Also probably not the best idea for a farm worker. Movie? No, no place to talk. Also they would probably think that he was trying to cop a feel. Neither of them were the club type, so that was an automatic no. Too late for coffee, plus too public.

Oscar: You like to rock climb? Cowboy: hm.. I could be convinced. indoors I'm guessing? Oscar: yeah.. its open til 10.. you in? typing.. Cowboy: yeah. Gimme 30 minutes and I'll head over there. Unless you wanna pick me up of course.

Oscar thought it over. Did he wanna do that? Pick her up? Seemed awful.. presumptuous.

"Eh, fuck it"

Oscar: Sure Red: dope. I’ll send you my address when I get home.

Oscar got ready quick. Hoodie, jeans, belt. Nothing too nice, nothing too

At 5:45, he showed up to the address. Apartment building. Decent one, if he were honest.

Oscar: I'm here Red: got it, coming down now

They came out in cargo pants, a blue hoodie that read "UCSB Linguistics" on it, and hiking boots. Their hair was braided back into two braids, and they appeared to have on some kind of chapstick.

He got out, opened the door to the car as they got to his car. "This is.. a nice car.." they said suspiciously. "Uhm.. yeah. It's. I.. get paid way too much" he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

They nodded, seeming not to question it, and got in the car.

The ride there was quiet, not exactly awkward. Fast Car by Tracy Chapman played softly, and the date seemed to have begun.

“Is this the radio?”

Oscar looked at the screen, seeing the map. “Uhm.. I think so?”

“Oh. I love Tracy Chapman” they mumbled

“Really?” He smiled a little, turning it up. They seemed to appreciate the gesture.

“Go left”

Oscar turned left a little too forcefully, earning a thumbs down from the teenage girl he cut off.

They snorted. “Sorry, should have specified. I meant Santa Barbara left. Thought you knew Max Verstappen wasn’t in front of you.”

Oscar’s cheeks flushed, but he appreciated the joke. “Oh. My bad. Forgot that there’s no racing tracks down here.”

Their brows furrowed, and they counted on their fingers “Channel Islands Raceway, Ventura Raceway, Santa Maria Raceway. Do I need to go on?”

Damn, they were good.

Oscar didn’t have a snarky rebuttal for that, so he just shut up and pulled into the lot. They grabbed their wallets and went inside, leaving their hoodies in the car. Oscar wore a respectable white tee shirt with a graphic of a car on the back. They wore a cutoff tee that accentuated the muscles acquired by working a ranch all day, and quickly checked them both in. Apparently, they knew the cashier, so they both got a discount.

Once they were rigged up, they put their belongings in a cubby and got to it, clipping into the belay systems.

The words they spoke were competitive as they learned together, giving little tips and quips along the way, learning more about each other. Oscar loved house music, y/n was impartial to rock. Oscar was a fan of race cars, of course, while having no clue what was so great about American muscle. Their accent, as he learned, wasn’t exactly from Santa Barbara, it was more a mix of everyone on the ranch’s accents.

“Oscar?” they asked, in that particular tone that sounded a little too fond for a first date. He perked up, not unlike a dog would. “You’ve been 7 feet below me for the last four minutes. You realize the belay will catch you if you fuck it, right?”

He coughed, too caught up in watching their hands grasp onto the wall, the muscles in their arms flexing as they tried to figure out where to go next. “Oh. Yeah. Right” he went for a bit of an awkward position, but was soon as high as they were.

“Why are you doing this mostly one handed?” He asked curiously.

“Huh? Oh, I broke my finger”

That was surprising. Oscar froze. “You what!?”

They were far too nonchalant about this. “Oh, yeah. I was training one of the newer guys, fuckin idiot by the name of Travis-“ they said his name like it personally offended them. “-and he was being an idiot. Ran and spooked poor Bandit. My finger got snagged. Freak accident, if I’m honest”

Oscar didn’t care about the how, he cared why they were still here if their finger was broken.

“Why did you agree to come then?” He asked as they got to the top of the course. They hit the little bell at the top just as he got to the top. They shrugged and let go, kicking off the wall. The belay carried them down quick, but they didn’t spook.

He followed them down, significantly less graceful than them.

They shrugged, unhooking themselves. “I like you. Figured I’d show up on my borrowed time before you get back to your big boy job”

Oh. Damn. Was he really that bad at being clear?

“I didn’t want to go out with you because I wanted you to be a vacation date and fuck or something.” He said honestly, “just wanted to go out with you. Of course, I understand if you don’t want to follow me around the world, what with that fancy degree you’re working on.”

That seemed to shut them up. First he’d ever seen, if he were honest.

Then, their arms were wrapped around him. “You asking me to be your.. what’s the word.. partner?” Oscar grinned “it’s only been one date” he said, putting his hands on their hips.

They rolled their eyes “fine. You asking me to meet up again before you go? How does this work?”

Oscar didn’t know how to answer that, as he took off his harness. “Let’s start with going out again, yeah” he said quietly, taking their harness from them. They walked back out of the studio, hand in hand this time.

And when Oscar’s car pulled up to their building and he got a peck on the cheek, he felt the same as on the track. Flying.

—