HONEY JUST PUT YOUR SWEET LIPS ON MY LIPS

https://www.tumblr.com/t1red-twilight/750536961595506689/soft-peter-headcannons

may i have a full length version of the shower headcanon? 🤲 pls pls pls 🧎

suds

summary: as requested, the soft shower fic:)

content/warnings: gn!reader. andrew!peter, fluff, non-sexual nudity, you have hair and you’re a little short (sorry if you’re bald and tall, my bad queen)

notes: this was my first request. ily anon<3

word count: 0.9k

masterlist

you were lounging on the couch after you had come home from work. the day hadn’t been too overwhelming, but you still felt tired. just as your eyes had started drooping, you heard peter thunk onto the fire escape. you swung your legs onto the hardwood floor and padded over to the bedroom.

just as you were entering, peter was pulling off his mask. thankfully, he wasn’t injured (visibly, at least).

“how was patrol? anything interesting happen?” you walked over to him and helped him out of his suit.

the both of you had settled into a few routines. you had just moved in together, so these patterns were one way that you both got used to being together more often. they were comforting.

one of these routines was the one that occurred after peter came back from patrol.

he smiled at you and turned to face you. “no, nothing really happened. i got a cat out of a tree around eight, though.”

“really? was it a tabby?” you replied after you brushed some hair out of his face. you took note of the smile in his eyes.

he had stripped down to his undergarments by this point. “yes, actually. mr. pickles is a very sweet cat.” he stepped closer to you. the soft rumble of his voice provided comfort, and made you feel tender.

“you gonna get in the shower?”

“what, do i stink?” he played up fake disappointment.

you chuckled at his pseudo-pout. “not really, i was just wondering.”

“yeah, i think i will.” he hesitated after this, lingering in front of you. he stayed, looking into your eyes. you had an idea of what he wanted, but you wanted to hear him say it.

after you raised your eyebrows, he cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. “do you want to join me?”

this was another thing that you two had gotten into a habit of doing: taking showers together. it wasn’t a sexual thing, more like a thing that you two had started doing just to feel closer.

“of course, pete. i’d love to.” the playfulness had dissipated from your tone and face. now all that remained was a soft expression of adoration.

you followed peter into the bathroom, where he rid himself of the rest of his garments. he didn’t stare you down as you rid yourself of yours; he merely looked at your face through the bathroom mirror.

he moved to turn the shower on. the apartment that you shared had one of those two-in-one shower baths.

once the water got warm enough, he pulled back the curtain and got in. with one hand he held back the curtain and the other was held out to help you into the shower.

the temperature was perfect: mildly scalding.

the first thing that you did was soak your hair under the water. peter tugged you into him after you had completed the task.

this was peter’s favorite aspect of your shared showers. he would sit and hold you for several prolonged minutes. obviously, you had no problem with this.

the warm water splashed over the both of you as he held you snugly close to him. your arms were around his shoulders, and his around the upper part of your torso under your arms, his head on top of yours.

he traced shapes and words that you couldn’t make out into your back with his thumbs. the feeling the warm water and the steam in the air provided a cozy atmosphere.

and, as per usual, you both stood like this for a couple of minutes. every now and then, he would mumble something into your hair and you would respond.

eventually you pulled apart to do the shower part of showering. he reached behind you and grabbed the shampoo.

as you rehearsed the motions of cleaning yourselves, you made light conversation.

“let me wash your hair, please.” after some lighthearted protestation, you let him. in turn, you washed his hair for him as well.

since you had moved in, you had converted him from 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner for something nicer that would actually help his hair.

when it came to the body wash, he gently lathered the soap onto his hands and ran them across your body. “turn, please.”

one specific benefit of these showers was that he could get the parts of your back that you could never reach. when you turned back around, he gave you a small kiss. “my turn,” he said with a small grin on his face.

my god, was he endearing.

the thing about peter was that he was ticklish, but he would never admit it. as you were ribbed the citrus scented body wash on him, he tried to suppress laughter.

“you are so ticklish, peter.” you said through a smile.

“i am not.” his protestations, always in vain, never stood. he would always laugh, even silently, when you would wash him. and, even occasionally when you would cuddle on the couch or in bed.

“if you say so, loverboy.” you mimicked his actions from earlier and gave him a kiss. you did one final rinse and you stretched to turn off the water from behind him.

he grabbed the towels from just outside the shower before the two of you got out, as to not wet the tile and make it slick.

the towels you had invested in had a high thread count, but had embroidered initials on them that didn’t match either of yours. you both had thought that that was the funniest thing and bought them as soon as you saw them.

he bumped his damp forehead against yours before asking, “you want to watch a movie?”

← remus lupin ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅

thinking about percy jackson and wearing his initial on a necklace! it was him that had gotten it for you, a silver/gold (your preference) charm, a ‘p’ around the chain, falling perfectly around your neck. and believe it when he says he loves it when your clothes are on, yet even better when they’re not. his favorite thing is seeing the chain rest of your bare chest, heaving slightly from the heat of the moment, and the relentless placing of his lips against yours. it’s the way it rests over your skin so delicately, and it makes you look nearly ethereal to him when you’re beneath him like this wearing his initial around your neck. with this known information, you’d never take it off regardless of the situation.

PRINCE OF MONACO ୨୧

♡: following his victory at the monaco grand prix, charles comes home late, back to you, drunk on moët champagne & love.

notes: charles leclerc/reader, established relationship, suggestive content & touches, alcohol, humour, use of french phrases, domesticity & fluff, baths, nudity but no explicit details or sexual activity, charles is a lovedrunk fool in this.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: more cha content out of my own indulgence <3 i wrote this at 11pm & it's a little ridiculous but this is also me projecting my manifestations for him to win his home grand prix this weekend. love you all mwah ᥫ᭡

♡ ✧ 。*・.

The sweet aroma of your Miss Dior: Eau de Parfum in damask rose and incense against pink peonies, clean linen sheets mussed about the inviting embrace of the bed, café au lait from a drained mug on the nightstand beside sweet-smelling lilies, and white, lace stockings abandoned and draped over the velvet loveseat.

Charles' claim of 1st at the Monaco Grand Prix was most blessing, and the perfect excuse for a long night of a plentiful of Moët & Chandon champagne, honorary chants, and celebratory reverie: announcing him the 'prince' of his beloved home, a victory he has been yearning for, since forever.

You had remained with him through the week, watching and admiring through every practice session from your usual seat, enjoying luncheon together and laughing over the usual lovey-dovey or noncommittal subjects as a means to distract him from his nerves before qualifying – the kind of thing he doesn't admit to but you know is only human – and your never-leaving gaze throughout the Grand Prix itself.

Until you got to watch from below with love hearts in your eyes when he stood on that podium, in his true and most divine stature whilst the crowds called for him and the Monégasque anthem resonated like the music of the heavens.

Now, it is quiet in the apartment you both call home, all minimalist but comfortable interior in a palette of white, créme, beige and hints of colour against the décor that define it as yours: the polished trophies before the white-varnished piano, heavy and velvet curtains stirring lazily about closed balconies of their rocaille-esque motifs, the abandoned sweater forgotten on the sofa, your rose crocheting yarn on the coffee table beside a copy of last month's Vogue.

Peaceful and content, stood before the ornate mirror in the en-suite of polished marble and quiet luxury, humming some gentle and absent tune to yourself as you comb your hair – dressed down to the comfortable, white gossamer silk of your négligée – whilst the only tune that resounds being the hushed television down the hall.

It is only a minute later that you are interrupted from your daydreaming by the sound of the mahogany front door as it draws open and closed. The familiar clink of keys set down on the oak furniture in the foyer, shuffled footfalls a little less balanced than usual, quickly silenced against the sound of a familiar voice like melting caramel on the subtle, slurring song of inebriation.

"Chérie?"

Hair comb set down on the neat counter beside the porcelain embellished basin, you absently gnaw at your lower-lip whilst silent feet wander the parquestry of the flooring through the flat in your approach to the source of your boyfriend's return, tucking a hair behind your ear, "Charles, I'm–"

The words are lost on the edge of your tongue the second you emerge from the bedroom's suite, down past the plush sitting area to be met by the sight of him where the corridor joins the rest of the homely setting.

"Bonsoir, bébé."

Even when he is slightly hair-tousled with damp, brunet strays falling about his forehead and the linen of his shirt slightly wrinkled, Charles is a handsome man, devastatingly so; the kind of beautiful that renders the air from your lungs a little even when you hold back light laughter at him now.

From his posture, an effort of an elegant curve to his physique like he is trying to be some suave, pretty flirt from those old, romance comedies you watch, where one elbow is propped against the wood arch of the threshold – the only thing evidently holding him upright – whilst his flushed cheeks strain a little on a dimpled, lazy and contagious smile.

"Hello, Charles."

"Ma belle, I missed you, I'm home," With something close to a brief pout and an attempt at a wink, the man lets his lovely eyes dance down and along your own figure in a lingering admiration and a slow, drawn-out smirk that looks both laughable and far-too-endearing, lithe fingers absently adjusting his loosened shirt collar as you come closer.

"I can see that," In response, you try not to appear amused though it is perceptible on the curve by the corner of your sweet mouth when his eyes follow the subtle shift of your hips as you draw forward until your arms fold around his midriff, breathing him in: champagne and cologne, hints of warm amber and rosewood. "You're drunk."

His arm falls around your shoulder comfortably as he sways against you, kissing the crown of your head like a useless reassurance when he murmurs a lieu of words in the thickened curl of his accent, "Non, ça va, je–"

"Charles." Your face shifts with a look, the both of you stumbling a little backwards where his weight almost has you falling on the edge of a floral rug, a hushed, noncommittal sound close to a chuckle falling from the man as he buries his face into the side of your neck with the punctuation of an open-mouth kiss.

"D'accord, d'accord."

"Stupid," You mutter affectionately, rolling your eyes fondly despite knowing all too well what has him so distracted, the warmth of his mouth and the gentle rasp of his five o'clock shadow tickling the underside of your jaw and the sensitivity there, a purr reverberating from the back of his throat as a response.

"Are you hungry– would you like anything?"

"Just you, chérie, I want to..." The Monégasque trails off momentarily like he is disputing internally with his own dialogue, lightly calloused palms feeling the curve of your waist through pale silk before pausing at your derrière absently – tracing his tongue against the edge of pearlescent teeth – as the two of you move further through the sitting room, his voice a whisper, "Je veux te baiser, mon ange."

With a blush dusting the edges of your cheekbones at the obscène words, you offer a half-apologetic smile whilst stroking back his tousled hair, "How about we get dressed down and settled first, at least?"

Initially, he seems reluctant to offer any hint of acquiescence but he eventually nods a little with a vague sound of acknowledgement, fingertips still feeling over your figure as you walk the path together before reaching the bathroom, the door falling shut gently.

Even when the reality of the presence has you accepting tonight shall be long, the man is undoubtedly his most entertaining and equally sweet as romanticised prophecies when he is intoxicated.

"Mm," It is the only indication you are given when Charles' touch falls upon the lace edges of your négligée, drawing it down the curve of your shoulder slowly as he traces the shell of your ear with his mouth, "You're wearing my favourite."

A soft laugh leaves the depth of your chest – a hushed affirmative sound in reply – before his hands come to cradle either side of your jaw tenderly whilst his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek, the kiss that follows his gentle persuasion more loving, his lips parted softly.

Just as quickly as the almost peaceful, drawn-out intimacy begins, it ends when he gives some hushed, breathless sound of sheer enjoyment whilst his hips absently meets yours until you feel the edge of the basin behind, a palm splaying over his chest just enough to encourage him from pausing.

"We can have a nice bath first and then I might consider your suggestion, monsieur," You offer gently in hushed humour, undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt whilst sealing your sentence with a chaste kiss near his chin.

"I'd much rather have you."

"So romantic," Muttering the words quietly, your nose brushes the bridge of his own fractionally where you see the slight glaze of liquor in his eyes, like gentle moss and warm oak, his mouth shifting almost proudly with momentarily met gazes.

"Only for you, mon cœur, I could write you sonnets of love, la mélodie de tes yeux–"

"Okay, Romeo Montague, how about you wash first?"

The initial hope had only been to coax him into the warmth of the bath waters amongst a touch lavender oil that threatens to lull him further into quiet and peace, wash his hair from your seat and prevent the possibility of any difficulty, though clothes are mutually forgotten on the marble floors and small, white-cotton rug when he guilts you into joining him.

"Charles," A whisper of his name though the cadence of your voice lacks the intent of reproach, bodies close together as he guides you into a comfortable situation about his lap whilst you work nimble fingers through his dampened hair slowly, hoping to distract him from anything but washing and settling down from the dizziness of too much alcohol.

"You smell nice," He mumbles indulgently against your shoulder, tracing a kiss on the jut of your collarbone in the dreamy lull of his voice as though lost in the figments of his own thoughts, "Like les fleurs..."

"And you smell like a bottle of Moët."

The man offers a lowered tune of disagreement, a palm idly stroking the curve of your thigh and down the inside of your knee beneath the warm water as you lather the product through his tresses, holding back a smile when he responds drunkenly like some smitten, hopeless lover of the poets:

"Non, c'est seulement le parfum des nuages."

It is the kind of sweet words that would usually have your cheeks warming or laughing like some conjured image of him in your mind, rifling through books of poetry because you cannot fathom him thinking of such phrases alone, though the moment his lips find the curve of your throat and the sensitive area beneath your jaw, it is harder not to succumb to the gentle temptation and let him have his way, a sigh falling from you.

"What are you doing?"

"Loving you." He says the words so easily, like it is the simplest, most natural truth he could ever admit, the warmth and wetness of his mouth trailing the lines of your throat and across the arch of your shoulders.

"You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love with you," He sounds proud of himself. Then, he is guiding the two of you, bodies pressed flush against one another as you are moved back, the weight of him familiar and the pressure of his mouth meeting yours slowly, "Let me love you, s'il vous plaît, ma chérie."

There are the smallest fragments of his soul and the secrets of his heart within the way his body moves, the gentle touch and the softness, the vulnerability and the passion even in the humour of his intoxicated mannerisms; how he makes love and the manner he holds you after, and there is an undeniable and irrefutable trust you hold for him alone.

a/n: i apologise. this came straight from the recesses of my tired & dreamy mind but i wanted to share, sending love ᡣ𐭩

sleepy girl chronicles | lando norris x fem! reader

summary; in which half of lando.jpg’s posts is just his sleepy girlfriend ( in the most random places )

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; suggestive comment, cursing

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03

note; requested ! wasn’t sure if this was meant to be smau or written so i just did smau :)

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by yourusername, lilymhe, and others !

lando.jpg: the most normal places y/n has been found sleeping in

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: LANDO NORRRIS??

yourusername: FUCK YOUUU😭😭

landonorris: you already did last night how do u think i got the last picture ??

georgerussell63: ENOUGHHHHHHH

yourusername: omg i don’t sleep that often do i??

landonorris: well….

username: LANDOS REPLY???😭😭

username: she’s so real 4 that tho🚶‍♀️

username: the eye mask and teddy bear she’s js like me fr

lilymhe: my sweet angel gorgeous bby taking naps👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

yourusername: wanna be my pillow 😼

lilymhe: is the sky blue? YES

landonorris: don’t take MY pillow away from me, back off lily 🤺🤺

alex_albon: back off from my gf🤺🤺

username: oh to sleep on an lv pillow w an lv blanket 😞

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, and others !

lando.jpg: the sleepy girl chronicles pt. ( i lost track ); y/n falling asleep on max’s couch and less than an hour later is found in his guest room w jimmy, also fell asleep at dinner ??

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: i am just a girl😞😞

landonorris: a sleepy one

yourusername: jimmy💓

landonorris: no, lando 💓

yourusername: no way ur jealous of a cat lando

landonorris: why is he hogging MY woman😒

username: LMAOAOSKAKS

username: stoppp the cat pic is adorable

maxverstappen1: so that’s where jimmy went that night….

yourusername: he’s a sweet boy😞😞💞

landonorris: i don’t have claws and i don’t bite im sweeter

yourusername: LANDOANSKSS

username: anemic girlies rise ✊

username: the picture of her sleeping at a restaurant sends meee😭😭

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by landonorris, lilymhe, and others !

yourusername: sleepy girl chronicles but it’s lando being grumpy i had to wake him up before qualifying + lando getting caught trying to take a nap after making fun of me for napping😁😁😁

tagged; landonorris

landonorris: sue me 🙄 you make naps look comfy especially on the plane🫤

yourusername: then stop making fun of me😞

landonorris: not my fault u sleep at any chance you get no matter where 😔

landonorris: ‘lately i feel like this’ u feel like that all the time now c’mere

yourusername: OMWWWWW

username: why does he look so grumpy i😭😭

username: it’s tough being a sleepy girl in this wrld 😞😞😞

username: the last pic 😭 i just know he laughed so hard at being caught that he teared up🤣

lilymhe: but ur the best sleepy girl

yourusername: ur the best girl

landonorris: too bad she’s going to nap on me rn

alex_albon: ??!!2@;928:&

username: sleepy girl chronicles goes on!!!

I think Florida!!! represents having an exciting, self-destructive fling. Post-relationship (Little did you know your home's really only a town you're just a guest in / Love left me like this and I don't want to exist) she's stuck in a bad place mentally and comparing herself to her friends who seem to be thriving and maybe don't quite understand how she's feeling (And my friends all smell like weed or little babies, and this city reeks of driving myself crazy). So she commits to a fun distraction (A time-share down in Destin / I need to forget so take me to Florida). And it temporarily keeps her away from her problems (So you pack your life away just to wait out the shitstorm back in Texas). She knows it's self-destructive (What a crash, what a rush, fuck me up, Florida), not a real, long-term love (At least the dolls are beautiful), and something people will judge her for (Tell me I'm despicable, say I'm unforgivable), but it works a great distraction from her pain (Florida is one hell of a drug).

bet you’re thinking she’s so cool ˖⋆࿐

the soul of siara ♡ stephanie garber novels, pink and brown color combo, plushies, spring rewatches of to all the boys i’ve loved before films, gold jewelry, thoughts of julian santos, living like steph bohrer, deer and puppies, finding the beauty in people, bagels at least once a week, old romcoms, cd collections, bows bows bows, dreams of paris and new york and london, beagracie, baking sweet treats, heart bursting with love

──── blahaj / shark !

pairing ! Percy Jackson x fem!reader content warning ! silly smut, fluff, very short!!

"Why'd you go all quiet, huh?"

Percy — all sweaty and huffy from the sweltering heat that was currently surrounding the both of you — stopped his movements for a moment, to take a much-needed breather, and to check in with you!

Your wide eyes staring up at him did little to not immediately start grinding into your fluttering walls again…, but Percy tried to think with his head for the moment, and not the one that was desperately twitching inside of you.

"Can’t when he’s watching us…" you answered softly, almost silent enough to have him miss what you just said.

"Uh— what?" He’s not sure who you mean, his own eyes going wide as he thinks someone is watching the both of you in such an intimate moment. Although he doubts there are many creeps around camp— but you can never be sure, yea?

The son of Poseidon quickly looks out the window then, or tries to, anyway, because the curtains are drawn. Like always when he decides to devour you under the sheets.

"Pretty girl, I really don’t know what you mean, please."

You were killing him here, speaking seemingly nonsense when he all but desperately clung to the last little bit of sanity, before he would have to either pick up the pace again or slip out of you…

And Percy certainly didn’t want the latter!

He watches as you become all blushing under his gaze and sheepishly point to the side of his bed. And there, staring into your soul — soaking everything up that was happening, or at least that’s what it felt like for you — was this huge plush shark. The one you'd brought him from Ikea that one time…

A slight snort passes through his lips as he follows your pointed finger, and he has to lean down for a moment to press his forehead against yours. You meant the shark! Of course, you meant the shark…

"But pretty girl," he slowly grins against your skin again, making your breath stutter in the best way possible. "I like when he sees m' taking care of his mommy, hm?"

"Perce!" — "okay, okay. fine..."

Defeated, and with much effort — because he really, really doesn't want to slip out of you now — Percy stretches his arm over your head and half-heartedly turns the poor plush shark around, so that he's no longer 'watching'.

"Better, hm?" a kiss is gently placed to your forehead and your eyes flutter close at his softness, before his gentle caresses turn deliciously rough again, and you're left gasping and clawing...

"Yea, there we go..., lemme hear you, pretty girl..."

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆ ➛ Opposite

Oscar Piastri x Fem!reader

Summary: Oscar has always been so grumpy and moody; frowning towards others but when he sees you, his mood changes faster than the speed of light itself.

Genre: Black cat boyfriend x Golden retriever girlfriend

Note: look out for grammatical errors and this is not proofread guys!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚─ ───────

“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Lando joked, seeing as Oscar’s expression rested into it’s usual downward smile. It was always fixated like that so it’s hard to tell whether or not he’s mad or just himself— others often misinterpret his attitude though.

Mainly because of his resting bitch face and the fact that he’s always frowning all the time, but people got used to it overtime.

Oscar just rolled his eyes and shrugged,”Nothing, i was just staring at something.”

“Staring?” Lando scoffed, “mate, you look like you’re about to murder someone.”

Oscar flipped Lando off, not even sparing him a single glance as he does so.

The other driver chuckled at his child like behavior and just shook his head in a playful manner, “I am telling you man, whatever your staring at right now, might think you’re judging the inside of their soul”

“I don’t even care, fuck them” oscar retaliated, his eyes rolling in the back of his head out of habit.

Before Lando could even tease him any further, a familiar voice spoke softly; interrupting their conversation and joining in themselves.

“Fuck who?” You asked innocently, your smile so radiant and bright that it lit up the once cold and mundane atmosphere.

Oscar’s whole demeanor changed and so did his mood— as soon as you set foot in the hospice and when his eyes landed on your pretty figure, he was like a completely new person.

“Hi babyy!” He spoke, dragging the y with an exaggerated smile, his tone going from gloomy to happy.

Lando giggled from the corner, “wow, where did that come from.”

Oscar momentarily glared at Lando— his eyes shifted back to his old one. If looks could kill, Lando would be buried 6 feet under.

His fellow driver put both hands in front and gestured to back off, “guess i am off then, see you around y/n."

"Bye lan, it was nice seeing you!" you replied happily.

Meanwhile, whilst Lando was heading out, Oscar's sharp stare never jearked away from his body; staring daggers at the poor man.

But of course, once Lando has left, his whole aura changed; he was all bubbly and smiley. It's like he wasn't the Oscar from earlier.

Oscar then patted his lap, gesturing for you to sit there, to which you happily obliged. Sitting excitedly on his lap and gripping his waist to try and balance yourself.

You leaned in to his embrace and shifted yourself to comfort.

"What were you guys talking about?," you mumbled, moving your head up to see his face clearly.

Oscar let out a contented sigh as he gently laid his hand in the roof of your heand and ruffled it. You were just so damn adorable, sitting on his lap like that.

Your eyes narrowed from his movement, "What was that for?" You gasped confusingly, earning a soft chuckle from your boyfriend.

"Nothing you're just too cute not to" Oscar spoke, using his free hand to pinch the side of your cheek.

He looked at awe with your confused look-- he doesn't know why it affects him that much and why it makes his heart go beat crazy, but he likes the feeling.

Only with you though.

You guys were too busy with each other that you didn't even notice another presscence blocking the doorframe.

Only when a subtle gasp where let out that the two of you knew that there was someone else.

"IS THAT A SMILE I SEE FROM THE OSCAR PIASTRI??"

"LEAVE US ALONE PIERRE"

And he's back.

...

Sorry for not updating in a long time, I've not been myself lately😭

lover - oscar piastri

summary: y/n is a songwriter who writes plenty of songs however no one realizes that they're made by her (and about oscar hehe)!

a/n: the outcomes of the races are fictional, and the order in which these songs have been written (assume fearless was written this year ygwim?). also no face claim!!

liked by yukitsunoda, oscarpiastri, and 33, 287 others ynusername romance is not dead if you keep it just yours! lovelovelove being able to come home for race day!! i'm so proud of u osc 🩷

oscarpiastri I'm so lucky 🥰 liked by ynusername

user27633 Y/N IS A SWIFTIE CONFIRMED!?!?!

ynusername of course!!

user16372 u literally take the cutest photos of oscar

user82537 y/n quoting paris... i'm so up

yukitsunoda 😆😆

landonorris You're my favourite wag

ynusername wow how considerate

liked by taylorswift, landonorris, and 1, 287, 387 others oscarpiastri Unwinding before Japan 👊

ynusername tehee we're cute

oscarpiastri You're cuter landonorris Get a room

taylorswift ooooh she's working hard @ ynusername

user62584 WHAT THE FUCK ARE U DOING HERE???

user98274 OSCAR IS FRIENDS WITH TAYLOR HUH

user61192 i did not expect to see taylor in the comments of oscar's post tagging y/n!

user92898 no fr like what is going on

user93829 Everyone shut up about taylor look at the beauty that is y/n omd

view ynusername's story...

liked by jackantonoff, phoebebridgers, and 55, 918, 278 others taylorswift In honour of my album 'The Tortured Poets Department' release a week ago, I wanted to thank my biggest musical inspirations! Thank you Jack, Lana, and Y/N for helping me the best artist I could possibly be, without you'd guys I'd be nowhere (thank you y/n for writing the cheesiest, cutest, sexiest songs ever)!!

user51862 who is y/n

user01827 She's dating f1 driver oscar piastri but also now apparently a songwriter idk...

user72973 Wdym thanks y/n for writing?? you're telling me the twitter stans were right??

user62863 y/n is singlehandedly uniting f1 and the swifties

ynusername thank u tay 💓💓

user52868 Girl has been living a double life

user51929 ohhh so this is why taylor was commenting on oscar's post😭

liked by oscarpiastri, taylorswift, and 108, 276 others ynusername well now that the cat is out of the bag, who wants to hear a story? i assume u all said yes.

on one of our first dates, oscar made me a bracelet (yes that one) and i thought (and still think) that it was one of the most romantic gestures. so obviouslyyy i wrote 'lover' about him hehe. yes we only knew each other for at most three months when i wrote it, but i love him so much, he's my forever.

oscarpiastri I love having a singer for a girlfriend (wife one day)

ynusername hello cat boy

user18739 You're telling me that taylor's most romantic song is literally written by my favourite wag about my favourite driver?? i might pass out

ynusername haha yes! i write a lot of songs for tay

landonorris So this song is basically about ur delusions liked by ynusername

user52863 oh now i need to know exactly what songs you've written

user20939 AND PLEASE RECORD COVERS OF THEM TOO

lilymhe wait so you've been friends with taylor the whole time...

lilymhe AND THE SONG THAT I WANT PLAYED AT MY WEDDING IS WRITTEN ABOUT OSCAR?? ynusername oh my god lily HAHA

let me know if you liked this!! i know it's super short but i'm seriously lacking inspo and ideas omd. also i literally love oscar so much.

i'm also working on a few reqs, so if you have a suggestion or request, let me know because i'd love to do it!!