becasworldsstuff

[becasworldsstuff]

This is sooo cuteee

Vogue Beauty Secrets

Charles Leclerc x Wife!Reader

Summary… Vogue invites Y/N Leclerc to film her beauty routine, but between breastfeeding, toddlers barging in, and a very attentive husband named Charles, it becomes the internet’s favorite accidental family vlog.

A/N: This was so much fun to write. Thank you for the support.

Comment to be added to the tag list 🫶 Reblog if Charles in lip gloss healed you 💋 Requests open!

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Like, Comment, Reblog, Enjoy!! - 💋

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Sophie was not emotionally prepared for what awaited her in the new Vogue Beauty Secrets video.

She had expected skincare tips and light glam. Maybe a glimpse of the Leclerc home in Monaco. What she got instead? Full-blown domestic intimacy and the softest glimpse into Charles Leclerc’s family life that had her immediately texting her group chat in all caps.

The video starts with a soft click of a camera. Then, a yawn.

“Hi, Vogue,” Y/N greets, bleary-eyed but smiling, her voice raspy from sleep. “I’m Y/N Leclerc. It’s 6:42 a.m., I haven’t had coffee, and I have approximately six minutes before someone needs me, so let’s go.”

She’s in a silky ivory robe, hair loosely twisted up, bare-faced but still radiant. The Monaco morning light spills in through tall windows, and behind her, their bathroom is sleek and softly lit, complete with pampas grass, glowy wall sconces, and a tiny pink toothbrush on the counter.

“So, I start my routine with cold water to fake looking awake,” she says, splashing her face. “This cleanser is my holy grail. Saved me from pregnancy acne, postpartum dry skin, and whatever hormonal situation is happening now.”

Just as she starts patting her face dry, a high-pitched wail breaks through the audio.

Y/N sighs, already smiling. “Hold on.”

The camera stays rolling as she walks out of frame. A minute later, she returns with a sleepy, whimpering baby girl snuggled into her chest and latched under her robe, suckling quietly.

“This is Amélie,” Y/N explains with a gentle bounce. “She woke up from a nightmare. Or gas. Or because the moon shifted slightly. Who knows.”

She reaches for her toner with one hand. “We multitask in this house.”

From the hallway, there’s the unmistakable sound of tiny feet running and then,

“MAMAN! Maxime threw the car in the toilet!”

Y/N freezes mid-serum. “Of course he did.”

Seconds later, Charles appears in the doorway in a plain white tee and black boxers, holding their son Maxime upside down like a sack of potatoes while their other son, Luca, trails behind looking scandalized.

“We’re resolving a Formula 1 incident in the bathroom,” Charles says, grinning at the camera. “Luca’s the steward. Maxime is currently being investigated for unsportsmanlike conduct.”

“Did you retrieve the car?” Y/N asks.

Charles shrugs. “No comment.”

He presses a kiss to her temple, checks on Amélie with soft eyes, then scoops up both boys with ease. “We’ll be back. Maybe.”

As he disappears, Y/N turns back to the camera with a laugh. “As you can tell, I live with four Leclercs. And none of them understand volume control.”

She continues her routine: moisturizer, under-eye cream, a little face oil, occasionally pausing to adjust Amélie’s head or sip coffee that mysteriously appears beside her.

Y/N narrows her eyes toward the door. “He always does this. Drops off coffee like a skincare fairy.”

There’s a beat.

Then Charles reappears with Leo, their dog, trailing behind him and immediately curling up at Y/N’s feet.

Charles grins, now shirtless and balancing Luca on one hip, Maxime hanging from his back like a little koala.

“Thought you needed a refill.”

Y/N lifts her brows. “You mean a refill of chaos?”

He kisses her cheek again. “Always.”

She rolls her eyes fondly. “I’m going to try to do mascara. Let’s see how this goes with a baby attached to me and a toddler kicking a soccer ball off the bidet.”

The camera captures her reflection in the mirror, her swiping mascara with practiced precision while Amélie dozes, Charles wrangling twins in the background, Leo curled up protectively beneath her. Somehow it feels… cinematic. Like watching a memory unfold.

She reaches for her blush and hears,

“Maman, I want the pink lips too!” Maxime shouts, bolting into the room again with one of her glosses in hand.

Charles walks in, sheepish. “He stole it. I tried.”

Y/N gestures to the camera. “Well. Raw and real, right Vogue?”

She lifts Maxime onto the counter, dabs a bit of gloss on his lips, and hands the wand to Charles with a teasing smirk. “Your turn.”

Charles blinks. “I thought this was your video.”

“Your lips are dry. Don’t embarrass the family.”

The camera catches Charles puckering obediently, Y/N laughing as she applies the gloss while holding Amélie in place.

Sophie can’t believe she’s witnessing this. Charles Leclerc in a lip gloss application tutorial. Shirtless. Surrounded by three kids and a dog. Whispering something soft in French to his daughter, whose little fist is tangled in his necklace.

“I swear by this nipple cream,” Y/N adds, completely unbothered. “For any of you breastfeeding, it’s a life saver. Charles applies it for me when I’m too tired.”

“I do?” he calls from the hallway.

“You do now,” she calls back.

She finishes her makeup with one hand, blush, a bit of highlighter, tinted lip oil.

“And that’s it,” she smiles. “That’s my five-minute face for school drop-offs, F1 events, or just chasing the dog through the garden while holding a crying baby.”

Charles reappears once more, now with Amélie peacefully burping over his shoulder, the twins playing with Lego on the rug behind him.

He leans into the frame. “She forgot the most important product.”

Y/N blinks. “I did?”

Charles kisses her cheek. “Confidence. And a little gloss.”

Sophie feels like her heart’s going to explode.

The screen fades just as Maxime announces, “Papa tooted,” and chaos erupts behind them.

Y/N blows a kiss to the camera.

“Thanks, Vogue. Come back when we’ve slept for more than three hours.”

Fade to black.

—

The end...

Taglist:

@devilacot @angelluv16 @angstynasty @hisashifrey @mynameisangeloflife @evalynkillgrave @lorena-mv33 @frenchtwistedd @baechugff

[becasworldsstuff]

feeling experimental? i’ve been toying with this idea for a minute but if i ever write it’ll be months from now so im leaving it here with you as a request. wag x wag reader….id suggest for the same team. alexandra x lewis’s girlfriend. i think this has potential to be really cute. their just hanging out, getting to know each other at the paddock, maybe lewis and charles see the chemistry and push to spend time together during the breaks when they have work to do. alex is still with charles, reader still with lewis, everyone still in love. i could see alex falling for a slightly older woman (late 20s, early 30s which is perfect for lewis) i think you’d really pull this off, xo

mrs. hamilton — alexandra saint mleux

smau + blurbs

alexandra saint mleux x !lewis hamilton wife reader

slight lewis hamilton x !wife reader

in a world of roaring engines and flashing cameras, yn hamilton was the calm in the chaos. a powerhouse in couture heels, she was more than just the paddock’s most fashionable face — she was a legend in the fashion industry. creative director. brand founder. icon. and wife to seven time world champion, lewis hamilton. at twenty-eight, she moved through life with purpose and poise, never once doubting the strength of her marriage or the freedom that came with it. lewis had always admired her curiosity — especially when it led her to art, risk, and occasionally… other women.

enter alexandra saint mleux

soft-spoken, effortlessly chic, and wildly intriguing — charles leclerc’s girlfriend didn’t just admire yn’s work… she wanted to know her. slowly, curiously, flirtatiously. it started with a compliment. then came fittings, late-night wine, shared laughter, and a closeness neither woman expected. no secrets. no drama. just an undeniable chemistry — encouraged by the men who knew them best. because love, when it’s secure, leaves room for more. and this? this was just the beginning.

fc : cindy kimberly

(a/n) : my babyyyyyyyy. i hope you love. i hope i lived up to your expectations. you are the best and i need to write more wag x reader bc I LOVE. love youuuuu💋

—

ynhamilton

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux & 7,714,037 others.

ynhamilton : first weekend supporting my man in red 💋💋

tagged : lewishamilton

—

view 785,090 other comments.

lewishamilton : still cannot believe i get to call you my wife ❤️‍🔥😻

liked by ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : my husband looks so good in red. im not over it🤤

liked by lewishamilton

alexandrasaintmleux : so great to finally meet you!! definitely was not fangirling 😇

liked by ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : felt like i already knew you. can’t wait for round two, gorgeous 🤍

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

↳ username00 : my two favorite wags finally met. im gagged

carmenmmundt : we miss your beautiful face in the garage already! 🤍

liked by ynhamilton and lewishamilton

↳ ynhamilton : miss you so much carms! we will catch up next race, i promise!!

liked by carmenmmundt

username0 : yn! did you dress charles today?? he looked put together

liked by ynhamilton and charles_leclerc

↳ charles_leclerc : i was actually very nervous to have both hamilton’s in the garage so i hired a stylist 🥴

liked by ynhamilton and lewishamilton

↳ ynhamilton : as you should. i still have not forgotten those monstrous jeans from last year.

liked by charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ alexandrasaintmleux : i told him not to wear those

liked by ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : charles, listen to your beautiful girlfriend please.

liked by charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ charles_leclerc : understood 😅

olliebearman : will you guys adopt me???

liked by ynhamilton and lewishamilton

↳ ynhamilton : absolutely. dinner will be ready at 6 sweetie 😇

liked by olliebearman

↳ lando : oh he gets a yes and an invite to dinner but i get no?!?

liked by ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : lando, honey. im only three years older than you.

liked by lando and lewishamilton

↳ lando : i forget sometimes bc your husband is almost 40 😁

↳ ynhamilton : 40 and fiiiiiiiineeee😻😻😛

liked by lewishamilton

↳ lando : ENOUGH ‼️‼️

liked by ynhamilton and lewishamilton

—

The second my heels hit the paddock floor, the cameras start clicking — like they’ve been waiting for us. I don’t flinch. I never do. I lift my chin, let my fingers rest a little looser in Lewis’s hand, and smile like I’m floating. Because let’s be honest — this is where we shine. Lewis is walking beside me in full Ferrari red, the jacket half-zipped, his chain glinting in the sun. He looks like trouble. Good trouble. The kind you let ruin you.

I glance up at him and smirk. “Red really is your color.”

He leans in just enough to murmur, “You’re my favorite accessory.”

Typical. Smooth. And still makes my stomach flip. We keep walking, cutting a clean line through the chaos — PR teams rushing by, engineers calling out telemetry updates, reporters already lining up like it’s feeding time. But it all fades a little when I spot a familiar face ahead.

“YN,” Charles calls out, his smile soft and warm as always.

He moves toward me, arms open, and I let go of Lewis’s hand just long enough to wrap him in a quick hug. He smells like expensive sunscreen and adrenaline.

“You clean up well, Leclerc,” I tell him, pulling back and slipping my sunglasses up into my hair. “I’ve missed this circus.”

“And we’ve missed you,” he says. “The paddock’s felt too quiet without your chaos.”

I’m about to make a cheeky reply when I notice her.

She’s standing a few steps behind Charles, just slightly off to the side — sunglasses on, one hand curled loosely around a water bottle, the other tucked into her hip. Alexandra Saint Mleux. Soft, chic, and sharp as glass. I’ve seen her online. Obviously. But in person, she’s something else entirely. She gives me a tentative smile — polite but curious — and when our eyes lock, something lingers.

“Ah,” Charles says, stepping back like he just remembered, “Alex, this is YN.”

She steps forward and offers her hand. “It’s so great to finally meet you,” she says, voice warm but slightly shy. “I’ve been following your work for years… and maybe fangirling a little.”

I take her hand, noting how delicate her fingers feel in mine. “Is that so?” I grin. “Guess we’re both off to an honest start.”

She laughs — soft and a little breathless — and it hits me then—she’s beautiful in that kind of slow burn way. The kind that sneaks up on you in quiet glances and warm coffee light. And her energy? It hums. I can feel it. Beside me, Lewis shifts, catching the moment like he always does. I don’t even need to look at him to know he’s smiling. He’s always encouraged my curiosity, always let me roam a little — and I’ve always found my way back to him.

Alexandra releases my hand, her eyes flicking to the custom Ferrari zip-up I’ve got tied around my waist. “You make red look… dangerous.”

“Good,” I say, tilting my head. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”

And just like that, I know this weekend’s going to be a little more interesting than I expected.

—

The paddock has started to thin out — media wrapped, debriefs underway, and most of the noise has retreated into garages and meeting rooms. I know Lewis and Charles are locked away in strategy talk, but I’m not in a rush to leave. Especially not with Alexandra sitting across from me, one leg folded under her, a half-melted iced latte between her fingers, and the softest smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“I still can’t believe I’m here,” she says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s surreal sometimes. All the noise, the cameras, the speed. Charles is so used to it — but I’m still adjusting.”

I smile, leaning back in the plush seat, swirling the espresso in my glass. “It took me a full season to stop flinching when the engines started during quali. Now it’s just… background music.”

She laughs — low, melodic, like it surprises even her. “You make it look easy. I swear, everyone watches you walk in like you’re about to announce your latest takeover.”

“Well,” I tease, “that’s because sometimes I am.”

Her eyes crinkle as she laughs again, and I feel something shift. Lighter, warmer.

There’s a pause, the comfortable kind. I sip my espresso. She tucks a foot tighter beneath her. Then she says—

“I work in visual art, mostly. I started with sculpture but I’m branching into digital installations now. Light, sound, space. It’s… more personal than I expected.”

I tilt my head, intrigued. “That’s beautiful. There’s something incredibly intimate about building a world from your own hands.”

She nods slowly. “It’s vulnerable. But also freeing. You ever feel that way with design?”

“All the time,” I admit, setting my glass down. “When I first started, I thought I had to be sharp all the time. Armor. Precision. Everything buttoned up and bulletproof. But over the years I realized… softness has power too. Sensuality. Emotion. Those things aren’t weaknesses — they’re everything.”

Alexandra watches me, her expression softer now. “That’s… exactly how I feel about my work. That balance. Control and chaos.”

“Mmm,” I hum, smiling at her. “Dangerous combo.”

Her lips part just slightly at that, and I catch the tiniest flicker in her eyes — not overt, not too much, just… present. A quiet curiosity. The same kind I feel bubbling inside me.

She leans forward slightly, resting her elbow on the table. “Do you ever design for yourself? Like, really for you?”

“Rarely,” I say honestly. “But when I do, it’s usually silk. Barely there. Something soft enough to remind me I don’t always have to be so composed.”

Alexandra smiles again, but this time it’s slow — like she’s savoring the words. “I’d love to see that version of you.”

I arch a brow, the corner of my mouth tugging up. “Would you?”

“I think everyone sees your power,” she says, tone softer now. “But I wonder what you’re like when it’s just… you.”

She’s not flirting, not exactly. But it lands the same way. I glance down at her fingers, still wrapped around the cup, her delicate bracelets glinting under the hospitality lights. Then I meet her gaze again, and I know she feels it too — that quiet buzz in the air. Not loud enough to change anything, but impossible to ignore.

“You’d be surprised,” I murmur, “what I’m like off the runway.”

Her smile lingers. We don’t move. Don’t say anything else for a long moment. Just sip and smile and sit in the quiet, steady warmth of something beginning.

—

The chaos of race day is always a different kind of buzz. Everyone’s sharp around the edges. Press, PR, team managers. There’s an intensity that simmers just under the surface — controlled, but volatile. You can feel it in the air. I’ve done this for years now. I know the rhythm. I know where to stand, when to step back, and how to smile without saying a word. It's an art. Alexandra, though? She’s still learning. And I can see it — the way her shoulders rise just slightly when a camera flashes too close or how her eyes flit to Charles when the reporters start crowding.

She’s standing just outside the hospitality entrance, politely trying to answer a few questions while Charles disappears into a swarm of red polo shirts. I’m just inside, watching through the glass with a coffee in one hand and a pit pass in the other. It’s all going fine until one of the journalists leans in just a little too close, voice dipped in something far less professional than curiosity.

“You and Charles seem very close. Do you worry about being a distraction to his focus this season? Some people are saying—”

She doesn’t even get to finish. I’m already outside.

“—that’s enough,” I say smoothly, sliding into place beside Alexandra like I was meant to be there all along. “If you’re interested in his performance, ask about tire strategy. Otherwise, I suggest we redirect.”

The reporter blinks, clearly caught off guard. Alexandra turns to me, her relief subtle but present — a small exhale, the way her shoulder shifts slightly toward mine like she’s grounding herself.

“Hi,” I say softly to her, letting the corner of my mouth lift. “Sorry I’m late.���

“You’re right on time,” she murmurs.

I loop an arm casually around her waist, guiding her away from the crowd like it’s second nature. The photographers still snap, but the press doesn’t follow.

We settle on one of the cushioned benches tucked into a shaded corner of the Ferrari suite. From here, we can see the screen broadcasting the grid buildup. The hum of engines is faint but rising.

“Thank you,” she says after a moment, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking over at me. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”

“You were doing fine,” I say gently. “But people like that? They don’t deserve the careful version of you. You don’t owe them grace.”

She looks down, cheeks flushed. “I’m still figuring out where the line is.”

“You’ll find it,” I say, letting my knee bump lightly into hers. “And when you do, I’ll be right there to help you cross it.”

Her smile blooms slow, head tilted as she looks at me. “Do you always talk like you’re in a movie?”

“Only when I’m trying to impress someone.”

She bites her lip — not shy, not coy, but thoughtful. “Is it working?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” I murmur, “if you sit here with me a little longer.”

She does. We stay like that — knees brushing, drinks half-finished on the table beside us — watching the grid shuffle into place on the screen. At one point, I feel her fingers graze mine. Not fully a touch, but close enough that it sends something warm up my arm.

“I didn’t expect today to feel so intense,” she admits quietly.

“It always is,” I say. “But there are pockets of peace. You just have to find them.”

“Like this?”

I glance over, and she’s looking at me — really looking. Her eyes soft but steady, like she’s studying something she doesn’t quite understand but wants to.

“Exactly like this.”

Later, after the race, Charles finds me near the garage and thanks me quietly, a hand on my shoulder and a grateful nod. I just smile and wave him off. He doesn’t need to say anything more. Because Alexandra and I? We already said plenty — in silence, in glances, in the way we leaned a little closer than necessary. And in the paddock — where everything is loud — that kind of quiet matters most.

—

several weeks later ; third person pov

The late afternoon sun spilled golden light across the private Ferrari hospitality terrace, warming the dark wood table where Charles and Lewis sat, drinks in hand, their race suits rolled down to their waists after FP2. The garage buzz had quieted for the moment, replaced by the distant hum of equipment being packed up and engineers discussing data. But their attention wasn’t on lap times. Not really.

From their table, they had the perfect view of the garden space below — where Alexandra and YN were sprawled out on a velvet picnic blanket someone had clearly stolen from a sponsor suite, sipping iced tea like they had nothing better to do. YN was leaning on one hand, laughing at something Alex had just whispered, her sunglasses perched on her head and the hem of her white sundress brushing her thighs. Alex, in a baby blue cardigan and wide-leg trousers, was tucked into the blanket like she was posing for a soft-focus magazine spread — eyes only on YN.

“Is it just me,” Charles said, sipping his sparkling water, “or are they actually in love?”

Lewis chuckled, low and fond. “Not just you.”

They both watched as YN reached over and brushed a loose curl from Alex’s face without even thinking about it — gentle, intimate, utterly natural.

“They’ve been like this for weeks now,” Charles mused. “Every city. Every flight. I swear Alex texts her more than me.”

Lewis laughed again, resting back in his chair, clearly unbothered. “She does the same with me. She’s always like, ‘Alex wants to try this restaurant,’ or ‘Alex says we have to see this gallery.’ I just nod and drive.”

Charles smiled, then leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly. “Does it… bother you?”

Lewis glanced at him, eyes warm but serious. “Not even a little. YN’s always had this part of her — this need to explore and connect. It’s never been about lack. Just… abundance.”

Charles let out a soft breath. “I feel the same. I think she brings something out in Alex I don’t usually get to see. A little boldness. A little bite.”

They both went quiet for a moment, watching as YN offered Alex her lipstick to try. Alex didn’t hesitate — just applied it messily and leaned in to ask if she got it right. YN laughed, tilting her chin and wiping the corner of Alex’s mouth with her thumb.

“I mean,” Lewis said finally, “look at them. They’re clearly having the time of their lives.”

Charles nodded. “And we still get to love them.”

Lewis smiled. “Best deal I’ve ever made.”

They clinked glasses quietly, not needing to say anything more. Because in a world of fast laps and faster living, what they had — what all of them had — felt rare. Soft. Beautiful. And if their girlfriends found joy and electricity in each other along the way? Well. That only made the team stronger.

—

ynhamilton

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and 11,000,134 others.

ynhamilton : tired, sleepy even, from constantly serving cunt.

tagged : lewishamilton and alexandrasaintmleux

—

view 995,783 other comments.

sabrinacarpenter : im gagged. and on my knees for you.

liked by ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : c'mere baby. gimme a kiss

liked by sabrinacarpenter

username00 : yn, her husband and her girlfriend

liked by ynhamilton, lewishamilton and alexandrasaintmleux

username1 : the pic of lewis tightening her corset. i-i- im malfunctioning. she is constantly feeding us. thank u mother.

liked by ynhamilton

georgerussell63 : and everyone likes to get on me for the thirst traps...

liked by ynhamilton, lewishamilton and lando

↳ lando : you quite literally are always shirtless. bro does not own shirts.

liked by ynhamilton and lewishamilton

↳ ynhamilton : and you make my poor carmen take all of your shirtless photos

liked by carmenmmundt

↳ georgerussell63 : she loves it

liked by ynhamilton and carmenmmundt

↳ ynhamilton : bet she would like to come over and take my shirtless pics more

liked by carmenmmundt

↳ georgerussell63 : CARMEN PLS DON'T LEAVE ME FOR YN. i would not blame you but PLEASE

liked by carmenmmundt, alexandrasaintmleux, lewishamilton and ynhamilton

username0 : charles how does it feel to be on the 'yn stole my gf' train?

liked by ynhamilton and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ charles_leclerc : i get it. i’d leave me for her too.

liked by ynhamilton, lewishamilton and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ username1 : charles is one of us

username5 : mother!! gym routine pls??? body 2 tea

liked by ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : omg thanks love! i'll have one posted by the end of the week !!

liked by username5

—

alexandrasaintmleux

liked by charles_leclerc, ynhamilton, franciscagomes and 1,525,007 others.

alexandrasaintmleux : love love love xx

tagged : ynhamilton and charles_leclerc

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view 127,055 other comments.

lando : whose bf/husband had to take that picture?

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, alexandrasaintmleux and ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : they both did and then they paid for our meals. #weloveourmenandeachother

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ charles_leclerc : and we’d do it again.

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, lewishamilton and ynhamilton

↳ ynhamilton : period king.

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and alexandrasaintmleux

ynhamilton : my pretty angel girl

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

↳ alexandrasaintmleux : love you beautifulllll

liked by ynhamilton

↳ username00 : lewis and charles just letting them be in love is too cute to me

liked by ynhamilton and alexandrasaintmleux

franciscagomes : beautiful babes

liked by ynhamilton and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ ynhamilton : so much love for you pretty girl

liked by franciscagomes

↳ pierregasly : yn. pls. do not. take her from me.

liked by ynhamilton and franciscagomes

↳ ynhamilton : no promises.

—

your pov

Milan looks like a painting tonight — all warm, golden haze and flickering lights, like someone smudged the skyline with their thumb and called it romantic. There’s live jazz floating up from a street below, a half-empty wine glass in my hand, and Alexandra pressed up against me on a bench like it’s our date and the boys across from us are just lucky to be invited. We’re technically on a double date — me and Lewis, her and Charles — but somewhere between the appetizers and the second bottle of red, Alex and I gravitated toward the same side of the table, legs tangled beneath the linen like we’ve done this a hundred times.

“I’m just saying,” I declare, swirling my wine and turning toward her, “if aliens landed tomorrow and asked to see the best example of human beauty, I would show them you. And then maybe, if they were polite, the Margiela archive.”

Alexandra laughs — full-bodied, genuine, hand covering her face like she doesn’t know what to do with me. She’s flushed, eyes shining, and for a moment I can’t tell if it’s the wine or the way I keep saying things that make her blush like that.

“You’re unbelievable,” she says, shaking her head.

“I’m right,” I reply, and pluck an olive from the little silver dish between us. I hold it out to her, fingers loose and slow, and she leans in and bites it from me without breaking eye contact.

Beside me, I hear Lewis chuckle into his drink. “She does this,” he mutters, mostly to Charles. “Pulls people in. Makes them feel like art.”

Charles leans back in his chair and raises both brows. “She put Alex in two mood boards,” he says, sounding half-impressed, half-baffled. “Two. For brands.”

“I’m starting to think I should be worried,” he adds, laughing gently.

“You should,” Alex says sweetly, reaching over to steal a fry off his plate without looking away from me.

Lewis raises his glass in salute. “To being supportive, secure men who hold the camera and pay the bill.”

“And occasionally get to kiss our girlfriend and wife,” Charles adds, a bit more dryly. “If we’re lucky.”

“Exactly,” I grin, resting my chin on Alex’s shoulder. “You’re both doing great.”

The waiter drops off another bottle of red, and we all murmur thanks, but I don’t really notice. Alex is turning toward me now, her perfume soft and close, her smile lazy like she’s half-drunk on the wine and the heat of the night.

“You know,” she murmurs, “you always say the most unhinged things with the calmest voice. It’s kind of hypnotic.”

“That’s just my brand,” I say. “Unhinged couture. Chaos in cashmere.”

She giggles and reaches out to fix a flyaway strand of hair behind my ear. Her fingers linger, her eyes flick down to my mouth — barely, for a second — and then she pulls away with a smile like a secret. Across the table, Lewis is watching us like he’s just been handed front-row seats to his favorite art film. Charles is doing that thing where he’s smiling like he doesn’t know whether to be annoyed or in awe.

“I feel like a third wheel on my own date,” Charles finally says.

Lewis just shrugs. “It’s their world, mate. We’re just lucky they let us sit at the table.”

Alex squeezes my hand under the table. I don’t even flinch — just lace our fingers together and lean back into her side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it is. Because between the candlelight and the chaos, the wine and the warmth, I realize…This doesn’t need a label. It doesn’t need definition. It just is. And for once, that’s more than enough.

 — 

There’s something sacred about the studio at night. The lights are dimmed low — not off, just warm enough to cast shadows over the mannequins and fabric rolls stacked along the far wall. My laptop is still playing jazz from earlier, some old record that crackles now and then, like it’s breathing with us.Alexandra stands in the center of the room, barefoot on the muslin-stained floor, wrapped in nothing but a half-pinned dress and a halo of soft golden light. She’s quiet. Not shy — not anymore — just still in that thoughtful way she gets when she’s letting herself be seen. Her arms are raised slightly as I crouch in front of her, adjusting the hem of the silk skirt with a handful of pins clenched between my teeth.

“This might be my favorite one yet,” she says softly.

“Because it’s sheer,” I mumble around the pins, glancing up at her. “Don’t act like you’re not obsessed with scandal.”

She laughs — low, breathy, a little sleepy — and I feel it settle into my chest. I stand slowly, letting the pins drop onto the nearby table, then circle behind her, smoothing the open back of the gown until the fabric hugs her spine. Her skin is warm. Bare. I press the silk against the dip in her waist and feel her inhale, just slightly.

“You know,” she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, “I never used to feel beautiful in things like this.”

My hands still. “What changed?”

“You,” she says simply. “You see me differently.”

I don’t say anything at first. Just let my fingers trail lightly over the fabric-covered seams, securing them with the faintest pressure — as if the gown and the moment might fall apart if I don’t hold them just right. She turns slowly to face me, the movement fluid, delicate. We’re close now — closer than we should be. Her eyes search mine, not nervous, but open in a way that feels dangerous. Like she’s giving me permission to go wherever this thing between us wants to go.

“I don’t think it’s the dress,” she says quietly. “I think it’s the way you look at me when I wear it.”

I laugh once, under my breath. “That’s not fair.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m trying to behave.”

A pause. Her eyes flick down to my mouth and then back up. Her voice is soft, but deliberate.

“Don’t.”

It’s not a challenge. Not a demand. Just an invitation. The air goes still. I lean in — just a breath. My fingers graze her hip, hers drift to the hem of my shirt. I can feel the space between us disappearing, feel her breath on my lips, and for a second I think yes, this is it. But then— A sharp knock on the studio door. We both freeze.

Another knock. “Babe?” Lewis’s voice, muffled but calm. “You left your phone in the car.”

Alex exhales slowly, eyes still locked on mine.

“Saved by the bell,” she whispers.

I swallow, smiling despite the ache in my chest. “For now.”

She grins — small, knowing — and turns her back to me again. I zip the dress up slowly, the silence between us heavier now, charged. And I know. We’ll cross that line eventually. But not tonight. Tonight, we return to safety. To silk and seams and what-ifs. But my hands remember. And so do hers.

 — 

The afterparty is still going somewhere down the street, but we ditched it hours ago — too loud, too many cameras, too many eyes. We’re in my hotel suite now, music low, heels kicked off, the scent of champagne and perfume lingering in the air like a memory. Alexandra is sitting beside me on the velvet sofa, knees folded beneath her, her laugh soft and unfiltered as I retell a chaotic story from fashion week — something about a model, a smoke machine, and an accidental fire alarm. Her hand is on my thigh. Barely. But it’s there. And mine is brushing her jaw now, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear like I’ve wanted to all night.

She’s looking at me like she knows — like we both do — that we’re moments away from slipping past the point of no return. Her lipstick’s a little smudged. Mine probably is too.

“This feels like a bad idea,” I murmur.

Alex leans in, voice barely audible. “So does letting it pass.”

I don’t know who moves first. Maybe we both do. There’s no hesitation this time. No uncertain glances. Just my hand sliding along the back of her neck and her breath catching right before—Bang.

The door swings open.

“YN?!”

We both practically jump apart like teenagers caught sneaking around in high school. Alex nearly falls off the couch. I sit bolt upright, heart in my throat. Ollie Bearman stands in the doorway, frozen like he’s just walked in on something illegal. His eyes are wide, cheeks flushed, one hand still gripping the doorknob.

“Oh my god— I— I didn’t— I thought you were alone— I’m sorry—”

“Ollie!” I snap, standing so fast I nearly trip over the edge of the coffee table. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“I needed to talk!” he blurts, clearly flustered. “I’ve been texting you for hours— I was freaking out about something with my engineer and I didn’t know who else to go to and you’re like— you’re like my safe person, okay?!”

Alex is stifling a laugh behind her hand.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Ollie, you barged into my hotel room.”

“I knocked!” he defends, still hovering awkwardly in the doorway. “No one answered and the door was unlocked!”

Alex waves gently. “Hi, Ollie.”

He gives her a pained look, like he’s just realized he might have interrupted history.

“I’m so sorry,” he mutters, already backing toward the door. “I’ll come back later, or like… never.”

“No,” I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Come in. What happened with your engineer?”

Ollie hesitates, then steps inside like a kicked puppy. “You’re not mad?”

“I’m mostly just humiliated,” I say sweetly. “But that’s fine. Sit.”

As he collapses onto the armchair, burying his face in his hands, I glance at Alexandra, who’s still curled on the couch — her cheeks pink, eyes bright with amusement.

Our knees brush again. She doesn’t say a word. But she smiles at me like this isn’t over. Not even close. And I know, as I reach for Ollie’s shoulder and switch into protective, slightly-maternal YN mode, that the next time we get that close? We won’t stop.

 — 

The city is sleeping. But we never do. It’s just us tonight — Alexandra barefoot on the studio floor, wrapped in one of my old cashmere sweaters, watching as I pull out sketchbooks and folders, swatches and clippings that have lived on the edge of my brain for months now. My desk is a beautiful disaster. There are mood boards taped to the wall, loose sketches pinned beside Polaroids of her laughing on rooftops and sipping espresso in Milan, lips stained red. There’s fabric I only ordered because it matched the color of her eyes in golden hour. There are notes scribbled in the margins — Alex hair down, Alex with that silver eyeliner, Alex laughing in navy organza. She’s everywhere. In all of it.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen this way,” I say, voice quiet as I flip open one of the sketchbooks. “But it did. You just… started showing up in everything I touched.”

Alex doesn’t say anything at first. Her fingers skim over a photo I printed of her — one I took when she wasn’t looking, on the balcony in Monte Carlo. She was reading something, barefoot and frowning, her hair a little messy, her lips parted like she was about to say something.

“I thought you were just being flirty,” she murmurs. “I didn’t realize I’d become this.”

“You’re not just the inspiration,” I say, looking up at her. “I want you to be the face. The heart. The voice.”

Her eyes meet mine.

“I want to create a full capsule collection with you,” I continue. “Your energy, your taste, your art, your voice — in every look, every piece, every campaign. We’d design it together. Name it after you. Launch it your way.”

She exhales shakily. “YN…”

“I’m not just obsessed with you,” I say, stepping closer. “I see you. And I want the whole damn world to.”

Her eyes flicker — somewhere between awe and disbelief. “You want me to design with you?”

I nod. “I want the next collection to be you.”

For a beat, all I can hear is the slow spin of the fan and the crackle of jazz on vinyl. And then Alex steps forward and closes the distance between us like it’s always been hers to cross.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Yes. Let’s do it.”

And before I can say anything else — before I can thank her or fall to my knees from sheer adrenaline — she kisses me. Soft. Unrushed. Warm.

Her hands slide up to my neck, mine tangle in her sweater, and we just stay there — in the middle of my wrecked studio, surrounded by piles of paper and chaos and beauty that all led to this.To her. To us. When we finally pull apart, her smile is dazed and brilliant.

“Is this the part where we ruin everything?” she teases, breathless.

I shake my head, forehead resting against hers.

“No,” I whisper. “This is the part where we make something beautiful.”

 — 

ynhamilton and alexandrasaintmleux

 liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, alexandrasaintmleux and 17,001,008 others.

ynhamilton : forever my muse. yn hamilton x alexandra saint mleux launching 06.27.2025

tagged : alexandrasaintmleux

 — 

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alexandrasaintmleux : my biggest honor. you made me feel like art. now the world gets to wear it. je t’aime 🕊️

liked by ynhamilton

charles_leclerc : so proud of you both! on my way to pre order rn 🏃

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lewishamilton : the most powerful collaboration. i’m so proud of you both. always. 🖤

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olliebearman : MOTHERSSSSSSSS

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franciscagomes : so so proud! can't wait for ittttt

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— 

Alex is standing in front of a linen-draped wall that’s catching the afternoon light just right, wearing one of my favorite pieces from the collection — a backless ivory slip dress with hand-beaded straps and a long satin ribbon tied at her waist. I’m crouched by her feet, adjusting the fall of the hem and smoothing the fabric over her hips like it’s instinct. Because it is. I don’t think I’ve stopped touching her all day — gently, professionally, reverently — and she doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, she leans into it.

“Are you even real?” I murmur as I rise back up to standing, fingers trailing lightly over her side. “Because I think you were custom made in a dream I had once in Milan.”

Alex laughs, soft and sun-drenched. “You say that like you didn’t design the dream.”

I smile and brushed my hand gently over her cheek, deliberately leaving my hand there for just a moment too long. The photographer’s still testing light, but I swear the camera’s already catching all of this. Across the courtyard, Charles and Lewis are leaning against a stone wall, champagne in hand, watching us like they’ve just been handed front-row seats to a love story unfolding in real time.

“Do you think we’re even in the campaign?” Charles asks, nodding toward us.

Lewis smiles, all pride and affection. “I think we’re just lucky to be allowed on set.”

Alex tilts her head slightly and lowers her gaze, her expression suddenly serious. “You’re staring.”

“Always,” I whisper. “I never get tired of it.”

The stylist calls for the next setup — a shot with both of us seated on a velvet chaise, surrounded by florals. We step into frame together, and without thinking, I reach for her hand. She takes it like it’s second nature. Between takes, she rests her head on my shoulder. At one point, she pulls a flower from the bouquet beside us and tucks it into my braid, biting her lip to suppress a grin.

“You’re the prettier one today,” she says softly.

“Impossible,” I murmur. “I designed the collection around you.”

Behind the camera, we can hear Lewis trying not to laugh.

“She’s been down bad since day one,” he says to Charles, who raises a hand like he’s surrendering to the truth.

“It’s okay,” Charles says. “I get it. I fell in love with her too.”

“They’re going to break the internet, you know,” Lewis adds, completely unfazed. “Again.”

Alex squeezes my hand gently. “Do you think people will see it?”

“See what?”

She turns to me fully, her face open and glowing in the last of the golden light. “What we are. What we’re building. What this means.”

I lean in, brushing my nose against hers, just barely.

“They’ll feel it,” I whisper. “Even if they don’t know how to name it yet.”

The photographer calls for “one more” — like they haven’t already taken two hundred shots. We both look at the camera, still holding hands.

And just before the flash, Alex leans in and kisses my cheek. Soft. Barely there. But enough. I don’t have to look at Lewis or Charles to know they’re both smiling. Like they knew it all along.

—

It’s one of those mornings where the sky feels like a blessing — soft blue with just enough clouds to make everything cinematic. The rooftop is dripping in florals, white linen, glassware that sparkles when the light hits it, and artfully scattered prints from the collection hanging on strings between garden trellises.

I’ve barely taken three steps into the garden before I’m enveloped in arms and kissed on the cheek.

“You did it,” Lewis whispers, pulling me into him like I’m something to hold onto. “You really did it.”

His voice is thick with pride, and when I pull back to look at him, I catch the tiniest shimmer in his eyes. He’s in a sleek tailored suit in a deep red tone that matches the line’s signature palette. One hand rests protectively on the small of my back, the other brushing hair away from my face.

“You’re going to make me cry,” I murmur, resting my forehead against his chest for a second.

“You already made me cry when I saw the final mood board,” he says, smiling. “This just feels like the part where I get to brag about you.”

Before I can reply, we’re interrupted by the sound of Charles laughing — warm, relaxed — as he spins Alexandra around gently by the hand just a few feet away. They’re standing by the hanging lookbook wall, Charles pointing out which sketch he thinks is inspired by him.

Alexandra looks ethereal in one of the dresses from the capsule — a soft silk halter with delicate embroidery, the hem floating just above her ankles. She rolls her eyes playfully at Charles and mouths, "Delusional."

“Excuse me, madame muse,” I say, walking over and offering her a champagne flute. “Are you flirting with my business partner or claiming intellectual property?”

Alex smirks, taking the glass and stepping into my space like she belongs there. “Both. Multitasking.”

Charles sighs dramatically. “I’m surrounded by dangerous women and their matching visions. I’ve accepted my fate.”

Alex rests her head against my shoulder as we laugh, and I feel her fingers graze mine—just for a moment, subtle and grounding. A little later, everyone’s seated, brunch served on gold-rimmed plates, laughter buzzing like electricity beneath the calm hum of the rooftop.Someone taps their glass. Alexandra stands. She’s glowing. Hair swept up, champagne in hand, dress cinched perfectly at the waist — but it’s her eyes that stop me. Focused. Warm. Nervous, but certain.

“I’ll make this short,” she says, already flushing. “I’m not a designer. I never thought I’d ever do anything like this. And then I met someone who looked at me like I was art before I ever believed it myself.”

She glances at me. I feel everyone else disappear.

“YN taught me that fashion isn’t just about what you wear. It’s about how you take up space. How you speak without speaking. How you feel before you’re even touched.”

She swallows, smiling now, voice a little shakier.

“She let me be soft and sharp at the same time. She put me in sketches and stitches and campaign shots like I’d always belonged. And in the process… she made me believe I deserved to be seen. Not just as someone’s girlfriend. But as myself.”

I blink fast. Lewis grabs my hand under the table.

“So to YN,” Alex finishes, raising her glass. “My collaborator. My muse. My friend. And the only person I trust to make me look good in silk at 8 a.m.”

Everyone cheers. I can’t stop smiling. My throat is tight.

Later, when most people are distracted by dessert and conversations about pre-orders and press releases, I find Alex near the balcony, looking out at Paris like she’s memorizing it.

“You always know what to say,” I murmur as I approach her.

She shrugs gently. “I meant every word.”

“I know,” I whisper, brushing my hand along her lower back. “And for the record... you didn’t just belong in this collection. You built it.”

She turns to me, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Think they’ll let us do a second one?”

“I think,” I say, “we’ll be unstoppable.”

We don’t kiss — not with all these eyes around. But our foreheads touch for a moment, and her fingers lace through mine in a way that says we will.

And I believe it. Because this isn’t just a launch. It’s the beginning. Of art. Of partnership. Of something more. And it’s ours.

—

ynhamilton

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux and 15,001,008 others.

ynhamilton : nunca se olvida de lo real

tagged : alexandrasaintmleux and lewishamilton

—

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alexandrasaintmleux : i know what’s real. i never forget either. and i always come back for it 🖤

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lando : blocked. reported. muted. (also sent it to 4 people because wow.)

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lewishamilton : always the realest. always mine. 🔥🖤

liked by ynhamilton and alexandrasaintmleux

georgerussell63 : this feels illegal to be viewing before 10 a.m...or at all

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olliebearman : i feel like i am interrupting something...

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↳ ynhamilton : you already did my olliebear so its ok

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carlossainz55 : good day to be bilingual, bisexual and have eyes.

liked by ynhamilton and alexandrasaintmleux

charles_leclerc : someone tell me why my girlfriend and my teammate’s wife are making me question my existence again. HOT.

liked by ynhamilton and alexandrasaintmleux

franciscagomes : ME!! PICK ME NEXT!! I WANT TO JOIN!!

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↳ pierregasly : pls no i am not as emotionally mature as charles and lewis.

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, lewishamilton and ynhamilton

—

[becasworldsstuff]

Hey can you please write kimi antonelli comfort fluff if like he dnfd or had a bad race

Thanks❤️

Hi love, of course, i love answering requests

Kimi antonelli x fem!reader

at the silverstone gp

"And there is the mercedes of Kimi Antonelli, he is taking the corner... and, noo, he goes straight into the wall, we can hear from his radio that he is completely fine but his car definetly isn't, yes, as the telemetry is showing, kimi antonelli is out of the silverstone GP, and now he is exiting his car, clearly angry"

"Kimi all ok, nothing happened, all all right" the voice of Toto wolff is heard by kimi who is on the verge of tears trying to not sob on live television

"Kimi the car will bring you to the pit" says Bono to the driver

As the italian boy arrives at the pit and exits the car the only person he wants to find is y/n who is right there with his cap in hand and arms wide open, he immediately lets himself go into her hug and she places his cap on to protect him from cameras.

"Non è grave kimi, andrà tutto bene amore mio, non vuol dire nulla" "kimi it's not important, everything will be alright my love, it doesnt mean anything" y/n tries to comfort him managing to bring the boy into the motorhome, as soon as they were away from the spotlight kimi melted completely, sobbing his heart out while being hold tight by y/n.

As she leads him to his driver room, toto looks at the girl smiling gently as if in reassurance.

Inside the two sit on the couch, kimi with his head on y/n's lap as she gently brushes his hair with her fingernails, the boy keeps sobbing only calming a little bit while the tv in off as soon as the girl manages to put her hands on the remote control "questa è solo la prima di tante gare, nessuno si aspetta che tu finisca sempre nei primi 10 durante il tuo anno da rookie kimi, ma è anche normale rimanerci male, quindi stai tranquillo e piangi se vuoi" "this is only the first of many races, no one expects from you to finish in the top 10 during your rookie year, don't worry but if you want to, you can cry"

The boy look up at the girl with red glossy eyes and nose a little stuffy, she, with kind eyes and the softest voice he ever heard comforted him and brushed away his tears before kissing his head gently as if to bless him, kimi closed his eyes enjoying the sensation and nuzzling her head almost like a puppy.

The two stayed hugging as toto excused Kimi from media obligation seeing the tool the dnf took on the young boy.

[becasworldsstuff]

hii!! how abt some kimi antonelli fics?

Hii, as i am Italian i loove this request

Summary: kimi and y/n met when they were in school and they became inseparable ever since

PIECES TO A PUZZLE

Kimi and y/n met in elementary school and ever since then they became best friends, but with his career taking off y/n had to find a hobby to concentrate on to distract herself with from kimi’s absence, the two used to never strain from each other, growin up together and doing everything together but karting never seemed to interest her as much as it did to him, now that does not mean he doesn’t bring her with him everywhere.

Now kimi was a Mercedes f1 driver which meant going around the world basically every other weekend and of course she was going with him, a thing that everyone on the team found funny as well as the little table kimi required for his driver room, on top of it there were always lots of puzzle boxes, rappresenting each landmark of the city/country they were in at the moment. No one quite understood y/n’s passion but they were still supportive.

“What are you doing?” Asked kimi after media entering his driver’s room

“Finishing up the hard rock cafe puzzle” she responded “i have an idea” declared suddenly the girl towards the boy

“Here we go again” said kimi slumping on the couch

“We should go to the zoo, maybe they have some puzzles that i can do during practice and quali” “would it kill you to just watch the race?” “I do watch the race kimi, it’s just that staying here for that long is a bit boring when you have nothing to do” “fine we’ll go the zoo”

At the zoo…

“Dovresti ascoltarmi più spesso, guarda come sei rilassato” (you should listen to me more often, look how relaxed you are) y/n said to kimi laughing at his calm face kissed by the sun

“Credici” (as long as you believe that)

When they arrived to the giraffes kimi was already extending his hand, happy to feed them, their long blue tongue coming out to wrap around the leaves happily but when y/n goes to do the same she forgets to let go of the leaf resulting in herself getting lifted off from the ground by the giraffe who was trying to munch on the leaf as well as her hand

“Oh mamma mia” exclaimed kimi “are you crazy get down”

“How am i supposed to” said y/n giggling

“Ok, just let go your hand and i will catch you”

“Are you kidding me? I’ll squash you!”

Kimi laughed “i use your weight as a warm up, please let go of the giraffe”

Y/n let go and her body began to fall but kimi thankfully caught her swaying a bit

“Well that was fun” they said laughing out

“Now can we go look at the puzzles at the gift shop?”

Kimi rolled his eyes “va bene” (all right)

At the cash register

“That will be 248,90$ with taxes” said smiling the cashier

“Oh mio Dio y/n ma sei fuori? Per dei puzzle?” (Oh my god y/n are you out of your mind? In puzzles?)

Kimi widened his eyes but took out his card nonetheless, “oh you so owe me lunch”

“Shut up you get paid more in a weekend than i do in a year”

During the qualifying a camera zooms in the mercedes motorhome “is that? It seems like y/n is doing puzzles during quali and those are? They’re telling me y/n is putting together an hippo puzzle in the mercedes motorhome together with toto wolff” one of the commentators says laughing in disbelief

Meanwhile…

“Well this is actually fun” says toto

“I know, we should buy more” says y/n “and kimi always refuse to do them with me”

“Are you kidding? He understands nothing”

“Ok… kimi, toto says that you should buy y/n more puzzles to do with them” says bono through radio at kimi

“Oh mamma mia basta”

[becasworldsstuff]

Hi babess, ive decided to accept f1 requests so, feel free to send

[becasworldsstuff]

through the lens — drive to survive moments

Lando Norris x Y/N

Summary : The cameras may be there for Formula 1, but somehow, they keep capturing them. From playful bickering in the paddock to wholesome moments in McLaren’s garage, from Y/N’s growing fan club to Lando’s exaggerated jealousy, Drive to Survive unknowingly turns their love story into a viral sensation—one chaotic moment at a time.

Words : 3.6k

Warnings : swearing

Friends turned Rivals Lovers

The camera focuses on Lando, settled in the driver’s seat, before shifting to the seat behind him. Just beside the cameraman, Max F is seen scrolling through his phone.

“Max is pouty because he usually sits in the passenger seat,” Lando quips, drawing the camera’s attention back to him. A glimpse of his cheeky grin is visible from his side profile.

Reaching over the passenger seat, Lando rests a hand on her thigh. Max chuckles softly. “Bit more legroom up front.”

The scene cuts to Lando, now sat in a studio. From behind the camera, a voice cuts in. “You’ve been a hot topic this off-season. Any updates you want to share?”

Lando leans back in his chair, fixing his hair as he readies himself for the interview segment of Drive to Survive.

"What makes you say that?" A shy smile creeps onto his face just before the screen transitions to a montage of headlines and social media posts.

"Lando Norris seen kissing mystery girl in his Ferrari" "Lando Norris and mystery girl spotted driving around Monaco" "Mystery girl identified—longtime friend Y/N L/N" "Friends to Lovers? The true identity of McLaren driver Lando Norris'new girlfriend"

Lando nods with a smile. “Y/N and I have been friends for a long time. Finally found the guts to ask her to be mine.”

“Are you the romantic type?”

He chuckles, shrugging. “You’d have to ask her.”

The scene transitions to the paddock, where Lando walks hand-in-hand with Y/N, her bag slung over his arm. Max trails beside them, hands in his pockets. The trio makes their way into McLaren’s hospitality, settling at a free table tucked away in the corner, away from the crowd.

Y/N takes a sip of her smoothie before glancing at Lando. “Excited for today? First practice of the season.”

Lando looks up from his phone, nodding. “Yeah, feeling pretty good. Car felt good during testing—hope it translates well throughout the season.”

“Think he’s more nervous about the fact that you’ll be here watching,” Max teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

Y/N laughs softly. “I’ve been to races before, you know.”

“Yeah, but not as his girlfriend. Now he’s got to win for the team and to show off for you.”

“You dick,” Lando chuckles, grabbing a straw wrapper and tossing it at Max, who dodges it with a grin.

Lando glances at his watch, letting out a soft sigh before pushing his chair back. “Alright, I gotta go get ready.”

Max leans back in his chair, nodding. “We’ll be in the garage before you head out.”

Lando grabs Y/N’s bag from the table, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go, baby.”

Y/N blinks up at him, confused. “Am I not staying with Max?”

Lando shrugs, a small smirk on his lips. “You could… but I want you with me while I get ready. Your choice.”

Y/N smiles and stands up, slipping her hand into Lando’s. Max groans dramatically. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been benched. I’ve lost my WAG status.”

--------------------------------------------------------

Air Max

Lando holds up his phone, the camera capturing the view outside Max Verstappen’s private plane. His team had arranged with Drive to Survive to give Netflix a small peek into his life outside the paddock. Now, he’s tasked with filming parts of his day—something he’s getting used to but still isn’t entirely comfortable with.

The camera shifts, panning around the cabin before zooming in on Max and his girlfriend, who sit across from each other, faces buried in their phones.

“Look at these two… they’ve been like this since we took off,” Lando murmurs, walking closer while keeping the camera focused on them. He tilts the screen toward their hands, revealing the game they’re both locked into—a racing simulator. Neither of them spares him a glance.

“We asked you to join, mate,” Max chuckles without looking up.

Lando plops down beside Y/N, setting the camera down at an angle that captures all three of them. He starts poking her cheek, then her side, trying to get her attention.

“Lan. I swear, if I lose—”

“—Of course you will. You’re racing against Max.”

“She’s actually pretty good, you know,” Max chimes in, eyes still glued to his phone.

Before Lando can tease again, Y/N suddenly shrieks, making him flinch. She drops her phone onto the table, leaning back in her seat with a dramatic groan of defeat.

“What did I say, baby?” Lando laughs, nudging her shoulder.

But Y/N is already sitting back up, snatching her phone with urgency. “One more, Max. Come on, let’s go. This is the one—I can feel it.”

Lando groans, throwing his head back. “Y/N, baby, please. Let’s watch a movie, take a nap, something.”

“In a bit, Lan, I need to beat Max.”

Max smirks, finally looking up at Lando with a teasing glint in his eye. “Sorry, mate. I win.”

"We're flying commercial next time"

--------------------------------------------------------

I'm just here for the coffee

The Drive to Survive camera crew catches up with Lando as he wraps up media duties alongside Oscar in McLaren hospitality. He’s distracted—eyes constantly scanning the room, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the screen as he checks it every few seconds. His expression shifts between mild frustration and confusion.

Just as he exhales sharply, about to shove his phone into his pocket, a familiar voice calls out.

"Lando!"

Max F calls out, relief on his face as he finally spots his friend sitting by the doors. Lando strides towards him, but before he can even greet them, Max speaks again.

"Oh, I thought Y/N would be with you. I've been trying to reach her for hours now."

Lando’s brows furrow, holding up his phone.

"I’ve been trying to call her too. I thought she was with you."

The realization hits him like a switch flipping. His expression drops into something between disbelief and sheer irritation. He exhales, shakes his head, and lets out a knowing scoff.

"I might know where she is."

Cue the most dramatic yet comedic smash cut imaginable.

Ferrari Hospitality – Where Y/N Has Been the Entire Time.

The camera immediately cuts to Y/N, relaxed and unbothered, seated at a table inside Ferrari hospitality. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter as they sip espresso, surrounded by Carlos, Charles, and their girlfriends. The Ferrari logo gleams proudly in the background, almost mocking.

Y/N leans forward, grinning at something Carlos just said, stirring their coffee absentmindedly. Charles adds a comment that earns another round of laughter. It’s the picture of comfort—warm, inviting, and clearly where Y/N has been all along.

Then, in the background, the doors swing open.

The camera follows Lando as he steps inside, expression unreadable—until the dramatic zoom-in captures the very moment.

"Unbelievable."

Lando’s voice cuts through the laughter, making the entire table turn their heads toward him. The easygoing chatter dies down as he strides over, hands on his hips, phone still clutched in one hand. His brows are furrowed—confused, mildly exasperated, and very much not amused.

"Baby, Max and I have been calling you."

Y/N blinks before reaching into their bag, finally checking their phone. The screen lights up with multiple missed calls. A sheepish smile tugs at their lips as they glance back up at Lando.

"Oops? Sorry, Lan. I had my ringer off."

Charles smirks, leaning back in his chair. "She’s been having a great time with us, mate."

Lando squints at him before turning back to Y/N. "How long have you been here?"

Before Y/N can even open their mouth, Carlos chimes in.

"Actually, quite late today. She came an hour later than usual."

Lando blinks. Processes. "Later than usual?" His gaze snaps back to Y/N, his confusion shifting into shock. "How often are you here?!"

Y/N, fully caught now, shrugs, setting their coffee down.

"I mean… almost every media day? You’re busy filming, and their coffee is really good here so I just—"

Lando groans, rubbing his face. "Oh baby…"

Before he can spiral further, Rebecca—clearly enjoying the moment—leans in with a grin. "Show Lando what Carlos and Charles gave you!"

Y/N shoots her a betrayed side-eye, but it’s too late. Lando’s eyes widen slightly as he looks between them. He nods at Y/N, expectantly.

Y/N sighs, reaching back into their bag. With hesitant hands, they pull out a very red Ferrari cap and place it on the table.

Silence.

Lando stares.

Alex, grinning, decides to throw more fuel into the fire. "You could’ve at least signed it for her."

"Oh shit—yeah." Charles grabs the cap, immediately patting down his pockets for a pen. He looks around helplessly before turning to Lando.

"Do you have a Sharpie?"

Lando blinks. His eye twitches.

"Do I—" He stops himself, inhales deeply, then exhales, running a hand down his face.

"Okay. We’re leaving. Come on."

Y/N barely has time to protest before Lando takes their hand and starts walking. "But— baby no my coffee..."

"I'll get you your own coffee machine"

--------------------------------------------------------

A victory in full bloom

It’s the moment Lando’s been dreaming of his entire career: his first-ever Formula 1 race win. The podium ceremony is over, and he’s just wrapped up celebrating with his team, taking photos and soaking in the victory. The Netflix crew trails him closely, hoping to catch a quick statement from the new race winner. But Lando’s not focused on the cameras or interviews—his mind is set on finding someone. He’s been eager to celebrate with Y/N.

As he walks towards the trailers, his eyes scan the area until they land on her. There she is, standing by his trailer with a small bouquet of flowers in hand. Lando stops dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his chest for a moment. A wide smile spreads across his face as he takes in the sight of her, the bouquet a simple yet perfect gesture for this milestone moment.

Y/N looks up and meets his gaze, a soft smile tugging at her lips. It’s clear she’s been waiting for him. "Hey champ"

Lando’s eyes light up when he sees them, his smile growing even wider. He’s still buzzing from the excitement of the win, but this moment feels different—more personal.

Lando is grinning from ear to ear "What’s this? For me?"

Y/N shyly holds the bouquet out towards him, a soft smile on her face. "Yeah... It's not the best, but it's the only one I could get my hands on at such short notice."

Lando doesn’t hesitate for a second. He sets his trophy down on the ground, his attention entirely on the flowers in her hands. He takes the bouquet from her gently, inspecting it with a look of pure joy on his face. The smile never leaves as he admires the thoughtful gesture.

Y/N flinches slightly when she hears the clink of the trophy being set down. “Oh, Lan, don’t just leave it on the floor—”

Before she can even move to pick it up, Lando pulls her into a tight, elated hug, careful not to crush the flowers between them.

“These are beautiful, my love. Thank you,” he whispers against her ear, his voice full of affection. “God, I love you. You’re the best, you know that, right?”

Y/N, caught in the warmth of the moment, smiles softly, her heart racing. Lando’s arms around her feel like the perfect celebration of everything they’ve worked for together.

"I'm so proud of you, Lan, my race winner," Y/N says softly, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Lando lets out a quiet laugh, glancing over her shoulder and catching sight of one of the camera crew members standing off to the side, clearly eager to capture the intimate moment. His smile widens, but then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he pulls away from her and takes her hand firmly in his.

"Alright, you vultures," he calls out playfully to the crew, his tone teasing as he begins to walk away with Y/N in tow. "Go film someone else now."

Lando walks off, his stride confident and relaxed, one hand holding the bouquet Y/N gave him, the other wrapped around her hand. His focus is entirely on her as they move down the paddock together, the world around them momentarily fading away.

"Lando the trophy!"

--------------------------------------------------------

Fan Favourite

The cameras follow Lando and Y/N as they stroll hand in hand through the paddock, stopping every few meters to greet excited fans. It’s a typical moment for them, with Lando taking his time to chat and take photos with the crowd, but today, there’s a certain energy in the air that the fans—especially the ones around them—seem to feed off of.

Y/N stands to the side, watching with a smile as Lando interacts with a group of young fans. One fan, in particular, catches his attention. She’s holding a small, handmade friendship bracelet, her hands slightly trembling with excitement.

Lando’s smile widens as he notices the bracelet. He looks at the fan and gestures toward it with a raised eyebrow, "That’s really pretty. Is that for me?"

The fan's eyes go wide, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to form words. Finally, she manages a shy reply, "Oh, uh... actually, it’s for Y/N. If you could give it to her, please?"

Lando lets out a lighthearted laugh, realizing his mistake, a blush creeping up his neck. He turns over his shoulder, calling out to Y/N with a playful tone, "Love, c’mere. They wanna say hi."

Y/N steps forward, smiling warmly as she walks towards them. But before she even gets close, a few of the girls in the group let out high-pitched squeals, and Lando, hearing the reaction, pauses mid-step. He turns around to face the group, his jaw dropping in mock surprise. “Right, calm down,” he teases, raising an eyebrow. "It's almost like you're more excited to meet her than me!"

The fans giggle, some blushing, while Y/N smiles with a soft laugh, taking the bracelet from the fan’s outstretched hand. Lando, now with a playful smirk, shakes his head, clearly enjoying the teasing moment.

Y/N immediately slips the bracelet onto her wrist, admiring it with a bright smile. “This is so pretty! Thank you so much, you guys are the sweetest.”

Before she can say anything else, another fan eagerly steps forward, holding out a small crocheted cat dressed in what looks suspiciously like Lando’s helmet.

“I got you this as well!” the fan beams.

Y/N gasps, carefully taking the little plushie into her hands. “Oh my gosh! Is this supposed to be Lando?” She turns it over, inspecting the tiny details, from the pattern of the helmet to the little number on its side. “This is adorable—you guys…” Her voice softens, and she clutches the cat close to her chest, looking at the group with a touched expression, lips forming a small pout.

Lando, standing off to the side, watches with a fond smile, his heart swelling as he sees how naturally she interacts with his fans. He doesn’t even realize how long he’s been staring until Y/N turns to him, stretching out her arm with her phone in hand.

“Lan, baby, take a photo of us, please?”

Lando blinks, snapping out of his daze. He lets out a chuckle before taking the phone from her hand. “Yeah, yeah—sorry, got a bit distracted there.”

After snapping a few more photos and sharing a couple more laughs, Y/N and Lando exchanged their final goodbyes with the fans before continuing their stroll toward the McLaren garage.

Y/N glanced down at the bracelet on her wrist, still admiring the thoughtful gift, while Lando walked beside her, hands in his pockets, a playful pout forming on his lips.

"Can't believe I gotta share my girlfriend with my fans now," he muttered dramatically, shaking his head.

Y/N let out a soft laugh, bumping her shoulder against his. "Oh, come on, don’t act like you don’t love it," she teased.

Lando sighed, pretending to be exasperated. "I mean, I was the main attraction. Now they’re out here squealing over you and giving you gifts." He shot her a look, but the corners of his lips twitched, betraying his amusement.

Y/N smirked, holding up the tiny crocheted cat. "Jealous?"

Lando scoffed, but his eyes flickered down to the plushie, and he hummed in fake thought. “Depends... do I get one in return?”

Y/N grinned. "Maybe if you win the race this weekend."

Lando groaned, tilting his head back. “So now I have to earn your love? This is outrageous.”

Y/N just giggled, slipping her hand into his, swinging it slightly as they walked. “You love the challenge, Norris.”

He sighed, squeezing her hand. “Yeah... yeah, I do.”

--------------------------------------------------------

P's new favourite

Lando’s relationship with Max Verstappen’s stepdaughter, Penelope, had always been a good one. Between race weekends and off-season meetups in Monaco, he saw her often, and they had their own little bond.

But ever since he started dating Y/N, it seemed like P had a new favorite.

Just before heading to the garage, Lando stood outside McLaren hospitality, casually chatting with his mom, a few friends, Kelly, and P—who, instead of paying attention to the conversation, was entirely focused on showing Lando her collection of stickers.

Lando’s smile softens as he looks down at the little girl, carefully pressing the sticker onto his fireproofs. “For me?” he asks, feigning surprise. “Thank you, P.”

“Bye, Lando!” P grins, bouncing on her heels before giving him a high five, which quickly turns into a hug.

Lando barely has time to wrap his arms around her before she suddenly gasps dramatically, pulling away as fast as she had latched onto him. Without a second thought, she bolts in the opposite direction.

“Y/N!”

The camera follows her path, cutting to Y/N just as she arrives. A wide smile spreads across her face as she kneels down, arms open and ready for impact.

P barrels straight into her, nearly knocking her over as she wraps her tiny arms around Y/N in a tight hug.

Y/N lets out a small laugh, steadying herself. “Hi, P! I love your hair—you look so pretty!”

P quickly pulls back, twirling proudly to show off her outfit. “Lando said he liked my hair too!” she exclaims.

Y/N gasps, playing along. “Well, if Lando said it, then it must be true.”

P giggles before Y/N takes her small hands in hers. “Alright, come on then, let’s go say goodbye to Lando.”

As they make their way back toward the group, Kelly watches them with a knowing smile. “She literally pulled away from Lando’s hug just to run to you,” she muses, shaking her head with amusement.

Lando lets out a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms. “Yeah, my family does the same thing when I bring her home with me.”

Cisca, who had been standing off to the side, bursts into laughter, nodding in agreement. “It’s true.”

“Hi, baby. I’m about to head off. I’ll see you after,” Lando murmurs, stepping in close to press a soft kiss to Y/N’s lips before pulling her into a tight hug.

Before Y/N can even melt into the embrace, a small but determined voice interrupts.

“Okay, bye now, Lando.”

P, eyes set with purpose, marches forward and starts pushing Lando away with her tiny hands.

Lando lets out a laugh, barely stumbling back before crossing his arms over his chest. “Excuse me? Am I not even allowed to kiss my girlfriend goodbye now?”

“She’s mine!” P announces proudly, wrapping her arms around Y/N in a possessive hug.

Y/N laughs, running a gentle hand over the little girl’s head. “Alright, missy, I think Lando gets the message loud and clear.” She glances at Lando with a teasing smile before blowing him a kiss. “I’ll see you later, my love. Good luck and be safe.”

Lando sneaks in a quick peck to her cheek before jogging off, grinning. “I’ll be back to take my girlfriend back, P! Watch over her for me!”

[becasworldsstuff]

ANXIETY | CL16

an: this was a request by @iimplicitt, it's based off of the song by doechii and i had so much fun with this and so did she when i was writing it and she was watching me live.

warning: stalking, (not good for those with schizophrenia or ocd)

wc: 3.8k

SHE FELT IT AGAIN.

That unshakable, skin-crawling sensation creeping up her spine, settling like cold hands at the nape of her neck. The bus was crowded—no shortage of strangers pressed too close, their breaths and whispers mingling in the stagnant air—but this was different. Singular. Specific.

Her fingers clenched the strap of her bag as she forced herself to breathe in slow, deliberate counts.

One. Two. Three.

It wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real.

She told her therapist last week—again—that she felt watched. That every room she entered held an extra pair of eyes, just out of sight. Dr. Rodgriguez had smiled gently, her voice syrup-smooth, and suggested grounding techniques. "Anxiety distorts reality," she’d said. "Your mind is crafting threats where there are none."

But what if it wasn’t?

She stepped off the bus into the drizzle, the sky a dull bruise above her. The city’s pulse carried on as normal—traffic groaning, conversations bleeding into one another—but beneath it all, she swore she could hear it. The sound of her own existence being observed.

She was losing her mind.

Charles, her ever charming coworker, was already waiting at the office when she arrived, his usual cup of coffee in hand, his usual easy smile in place. The small acts of kindness never failed to relieve her on those days where she was sure someone was watching her.

“You look tired,” he remarked, eyes flicking over her face with something she couldn’t quite place.

She forced a laugh, her grip tightening on her bag. “Didn’t sleep well.”

She didn’t add why.

She didn’t say that last night, she had woken up to the feeling of breath on her cheek—only to find her bedroom window, which she swore she had locked, standing slightly ajar.

She spent the morning drowning in emails, half-reading sentences that tangled and blurred. The office hummed with its usual monotony—phones ringing, keyboards clattering, conversations low and murmuring. But beneath it all, she could still feel it. That weight. That presence. Like something crouching just outside her field of vision.

Charles worked across from her, as he always did. A steady, unbothered rhythm. He had a way of making himself comfortable in spaces, like he belonged there, like he belonged anywhere.

Unlike her.

She twisted the ring on her finger—an old habit, skin raw from the constant friction. Her breath felt thin in her chest. She was losing it.

At lunch, she stepped outside for air, the city slick with fresh rain, neon signs bleeding colour onto the pavement. She pressed her back against the cold brick of the building and pulled out her phone.

Missed call: Dr RodriguezVoicemail (1:32 minutes)

Her thumb hovered over the play button.

Her reflection in the screen stared back—pale, exhausted, the dark smudges under her eyes betraying the war she was losing with sleep. A shadow shifted in the glass. Behind her.

She spun, pulse lurching—

Nothing.

Just a man lighting a cigarette. A couple laughing as they walked by. A row of windows, half-covered with blinds, office workers moving in faceless silhouettes.

She exhaled sharply, a bitter taste rising in her throat.

The voicemail could wait.

When she returned to her desk, Charles glanced up. His gaze lingered for a second too long.

“You alright?”

Her skin prickled. “Yeah. Fine.”

His lips twitched—something like amusement, or maybe curiosity. “Liar.”

She let out a breathless laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Because later, when she went home and locked the door behind her—checked it twice, three times, pressed her palm flat against the wood just to be sure—she found something strange.

Her bedside lamp was on.

She was sure she’d turned it off that morning. Positive.

And on her pillow, right where her head would rest—

A single red thread.

She stared at it, breath frozen in her throat. It was nothing. Had to be nothing.

But still, she didn’t sleep.

Not even when the exhaustion weighed heavy behind her eyes. Not even when the wind rattled the window, whispering secrets into the night.

Somewhere, in the dark space between awake and dreaming, she thought she heard something.

A breath.

Or maybe—

A laugh.

The night stretched long and thin, stitched together with half-dreams and the restless shifting of sheets. She lay still, spine pressed to the mattress, listening to the house breathe.

The radiator groaned. The pipes whispered. The walls held their silence.

But something else lingered in the quiet. A weight in the air, thick and cloying, curling like smoke around the edges of her perception.

She stared at the ceiling, tracing cracks that bloomed like veins.

Had those always been there?

The red thread still sat on her pillow, untouched. A pinprick of colour in the dim glow of her bedside lamp. A thread, a thread, a thread—what did it mean? Had it fallen from her coat? Had she brought it in with her, unknowingly?

Or had it been left?

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to sit up. Her limbs felt like lead. She hadn't eaten. Hadn’t slept properly in weeks. Maybe this was it—maybe this was where the mind unraveled, thread by thread, until nothing was left but loose ends.

By morning, she was still awake.

Still breathing. Still whole.

But something had shifted.

On the way to work, the world felt sharper. The footsteps behind her landed too precisely, too in sync with her own. The reflections in shop windows seemed delayed, moving a fraction of a second too late, as if something was pretending to be her shadow but hadn't quite learned the rhythm.

Inside the office, the air smelled sterile—paper and coffee and something metallic underneath. She took her seat. Logged in. Tried to exist like a normal person.

But Charles was watching her.

Not obviously. Not overtly.

But in the way his fingers hovered too long over his keyboard before he typed. In the way his head tilted, just slightly, when she wasn’t looking.

She wondered what he saw when he looked at her.

Did she look different? Changed?

Did he see the exhaustion pressed deep into the hollows of her face? The way she flinched when someone walked too close?

Or did he see something else entirely?

“Long night?” His voice was smooth, threading into the static hum of the office.

She forced a smile, brittle and thin. “Something like that.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, stretching lazily. “You should sleep more. Bad things happen when you don’t.”

Her heart stammered against her ribs.

It was nothing. Just a comment.

But then he smiled.

And she could have sworn—sworn on everything, on her bones, on her breath—that there was something lurking beneath it.

Something that knew.

She spent the morning in a daze, thoughts tangled like static-wrapped wires, her body running on muscle memory. Click. Type. Scroll. Blink.

She was here, but she wasn’t here.

Her skin felt stretched too tight over her bones, her nerves pulled like violin strings, ready to snap. She couldn’t shake the sensation of movement in her periphery—shapes that flickered and disappeared the second she turned to look.

At some point, she found herself gripping her coffee cup too hard, fingers white-knuckled around the paper rim. She hadn’t even taken a sip.

Then—

A touch.

Light. Fleeting. A simple press of fingers against her shoulder.

But it was wrong.

Too sudden, too unexpected, too much.

She flinched so violently the coffee lurched from her hands, a dark flood spilling down her front, scalding against her skin.

“Shit.” Her breath hitched. The world tilted, heat and embarrassment crawling up her neck like vines.

A chuckle. Low. Smooth.

Charles.

She barely registered him moving before he was already there, grabbing a handful of napkins from her desk, his hands careful as he pressed them against the fabric of her blouse.

“Easy,” he murmured, dabbing at the mess. “You’re jumpy today.”

Jumpy. Jumpy. Like a rabbit caught in the open, trembling under the weight of unseen eyes.

She swallowed, tried to laugh it off. “Didn’t hear you walk up.”

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” His lips curled, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. “Here, let me—”

He shrugged off his suit jacket, offering it to her. She hesitated, but the damp chill of coffee clinging to her skin made the decision for her.

“Thanks,” she muttered, slipping it over her shoulders.

And then—

Something stopped her.

Something small. Insignificant.

Something that shouldn’t have meant anything at all.

The lining of his jacket.

Red.

The exact same shade as the thread on her pillow.

The world shuddered around her, sound fading into a distant hum. Her fingers twitched against the fabric, stomach twisting into something ugly, something sharp.

Coincidence. It was a coincidence.

Wasn’t it?

She forced herself to move, to breathe, to exist like a normal person.

“Better?” Charles asked, tilting his head slightly.

She nodded. Swallowed the unease sticking to the back of her throat. “Yeah. Thanks.”

She turned away too quickly, focusing on her phone as she unlocked it with shaking hands.

Me: Hi, Dr. Rodriguez. Can I book an urgent appointment? Please.

The message sent.

Her pulse thundered beneath her skin.

She wasn’t crazy.

She wasn’t.

But then why did she feel like the walls were closing in?

And why, when she glanced up, was Charles still watching her?

Smiling.

Like he knew something she didn’t.

She was at Dr. Rodriguez’s office by 5. The office smelled like lavender and something sterile underneath. A candle burned low on the desk, its wax pooled like melted bone.

She sat curled in the chair, wringing her hands in her lap. The fabric of Charles’ jacket - wait no, her own jacket - felt heavier than it should.

“I just feel… like I’m falling out of myself,” she said finally, voice fraying at the edges. “Like I’m in my body, but not in my body. Like something else is watching through my eyes.”

Dr Rodriguez hummed, scribbling something down. “You’ve mentioned before that your anxiety manifests as hyper-vigilance. Do you feel unsafe?” 

Yes.

No.

Both.

She liked her lips. “I- I keep finding things.”

Dr. Rodriguez looked up. “Things?”

“Threads,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Red ones. In places they shouldn’t be. My room, my pillow, my clothes.”

She expected Dr. Rodriguez’s expression to shift - concern, curiosity, something - but she only nodded. As if this were expected. As if she were predictable.

“Anxiety has a way of creating patterns where there are none. The brain seeks familiarity, even in chaos. It’s why we see faces in clouds, shapes in shadows.”

A pause. A careful glance.

“I’m going to prescribe you something. A low dose anti-anxiety medication. It should help take the edge off.”

She stared. “That’s it?”

“You’re exhausted,” Dr. Rodriguez said, her voice kind but firm. “Your mind is playing tricks on you. Get some rest. Take the medication. I promise, things will feel clearer soon.”

She wanted to believe her.

She really did.

When she got home, her body moved on autopilot. Kicked off her shoes. Shed her coat. Pressed her fingers against the lock on the door, just to make sure. 

Her bedroom was the same as she had left it. No signs of intrusion- there never was. No misplaced objects - except for the single red thread lying on the floor beside her bed.

She saw it.

She left it.

If she ignored it, it wouldn’t mean anything.

Maybe it would stop existing altogether.

She swallowed the first dose of the medication with a sip of water, barely tasting it. Lay down. Stared at the ceiling until sleep finally dragged her under.

________________________________________________________________________

The following morning the office smelled like paper and burnt coffee, the usual hum of keyboards and distant chatter wrapping around her in something close to normalcy.

Until she reached her desk.

And stopped breathing.

Bundles.

Neat, deliberate bundles of red threads sat in a perfect row across her desk.

Knotted. Tied. Arranged like little offerings.

Her vision blurred. The office warped and swayed around her. The walls stretched, bending toward her like hungry things.

A gasp caught in her throat, sharp and strangled.

“He’s here.”

Her own voice. But distant, warped, broken.

Louder now-

“He’s here.”

She was shaking, hands white-knuckled at her sides. The air felt thick, pressing in, suffocating.

People turned. Stared. The office held its breath.

Then-

Arms wrapped around her.

Too tight. Too sudden.

Charles.

His voice was a low murmur against her ear. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Breathe. You’re safe.”

Her blood turned electric. She thrashed against him.

“Get off me!”

He pulled back immediately, hands raised in surrender. Confusion flickered across his face.

“What?”

She stumbled backward, chest heaving, her heart a live animal clawing at her ribs.

“I-” her throat closed up. Everyone was watching her. Eyes wide. Concerned.

The bundles of thread sat silently on her desk. Mocking her. 

Charles was still staring at her, brows drawn together, lips parted like he was about to say something but had no idea what.

And all she could think was—

What if he didn’t put them there?

Then who did?

The walls loomed closer. The room pulsed like a living thing.

She needed to get out.

Now.

The office was a blur.

A mess of wide eyes and half-formed whispers. The air was thick. Too thick, pressing against her ribs like it was trying to crack it open. 

Charles stood there frozen, hands still raised from when she’d pushed him away.

“What the fuck?” His voice was sharp but confused, eyebrows drawn together like he was trying to piece together a puzzle that didn't make sense. 

Her breath hitched in her throat. She took another step back. “Leave me alone.”

His expression flickered—something like hurt, quickly masked by disbelief. “I am leaving you alone. What’s going on?”

The room swayed. 

“The thread,” she whispered, voice cracking. “It’s the same.” 

Charles blinked, his confusion deepening. “The what? The same as what?!”

“The thread!” She was shouting now, wild, frantic, barely recognising the sound of her own voice. “The red thread—on my pillow, on my floor—on my desk! It’s yours, I know it’s yours!”

Her colleagues shifted uncomfortably, a few exchanging glances.

Charles exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He turned toward the others, an almost pleading look on his face. “I don’t know what she’s on about.”

She grabbed at her temples, squeezing her eyes shut against the sudden ache drilling into her skull.

“You’re lying,” she whispered, voice trembling. “You— you have to be. It’s the same colour as your suit jacket!”

Charles hesitated. Then, in one slow, deliberate motion, he reached for the edge of his suit jacket.

“You mean this?”

He lifted it, exposing the lining.

She braced herself. She knew what she’d see.

But—

Navy.

Not red. Not even close.

A deep, unremarkable navy.

“The thread of all my clothes is navy,” Charles said, his voice careful now, like he was speaking to a wild animal. “My family colours. Always has been.”

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Her knees gave out. The floor slammed into her, cold and merciless. The room stretched, warped, swallowed itself whole.

It wasn’t possible.

She’d seen it. She knew.

Hadn’t she?

Somewhere, distantly, she could hear people talking. Someone kneeling beside her. A hand on her shoulder. But it all blurred into static, white noise flooding her ears.

The threads.

The threads were real.

Weren’t they?

Her lungs stuttered, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

Something was wrong.

Something was watching her.

And now—

Now she had no idea what was real anymore.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her chest heaved, lungs burning, but the air wasn’t getting in. The walls were too close, pressing in, suffocating. The voices around her blurred, merging into an indistinct hum.

Someone said her name.

Her hands curled into fists against the carpet.

This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

But it was. It had to be.

The thread. The thread was real.

So why—why wasn’t anyone else seeing it? Why was Charles standing there, looking at her like she was unraveling at the seams?

She squeezed her eyes shut, a broken sob tearing from her throat.

And then—

A touch.

Gentle. Careful. A hand resting lightly on her shoulder.

She flinched.

“Hey.”

Charles.

His voice was softer now, cautious, like he was afraid she might shatter if he spoke too loudly.

She blinked up at him, her vision warped with tears. His face hovered above her, blurred and unreadable.

“I—” Her voice failed her. Her entire body trembled, her limbs useless, her breath stuttering between sobs.

He hesitated. Then, slowly, he crouched beside her, his hand still resting on her shoulder—warm, grounding, real.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he admitted, voice low, steady. “But I think you need to breathe.”

She shook her head, curling in on herself. “I can’t.”

She felt him shift closer. Felt the warmth of him, steady against the cold creeping under her skin.

“Yeah, you can.” His hand traced slow circles against her back, a careful reassurance. “Just follow me, okay? In—” He inhaled, deep and slow. “And out.”

Her breath hitched.

Charles exhaled, patient.

“In—”

She tried. Gasped. Stumbled.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Again.”

She did. A little steadier this time. Her fingers dug into the fabric of his sleeve, gripping onto something solid.

Somewhere in the fog of her mind, she knew this was wrong.

She shouldn’t be letting him touch her. She shouldn’t be folding into him like this, shouldn’t be shaking against his chest like a wounded thing.

But he was there.

Holding her up when everything else was slipping away.

So she let herself break.

She pressed her forehead into his shoulder, her tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, her body wracked with silent sobs.

Charles stilled.

Then, carefully, he wrapped his arms around her.

Not too tight. Not suffocating. Just… holding.

“It’s okay,” he murmured against her hair. “You’re okay.”

She wasn’t.

She wasn’t.

But right now, with his arms around her, she could almost pretend.

Almost.

The office buzzed around them, a distant, faraway thing. She barely registered the murmurs, the hesitant shuffling of her colleagues. Someone asked if they should call someone. Someone else asked if she needed water.

She didn’t answer.

She couldn’t.

All she could do was cling to Charles, her fingers still fisted in his sleeve, her body betraying her, seeking warmth in the one person she shouldn’t trust. Or could she? He was her coworker - he hasn’t done anything wrong or had he? 

He didn’t push her away.

Didn’t rush her.

Just held her, quiet and patient, his breath steady against her hair.

“You’re okay,” he murmured again, and for one stupid, fleeting moment, she almost believed him.

Then—

A shift. A presence.

Someone—one of her colleagues—was stepping forward, hesitant. “Hey, maybe we should—”

Charles cut them off. “She needs space.” His voice was firm, edged with authority. “Let’s not overwhelm her.”

The others hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances.

“She should go home,” someone muttered.

“She shouldn’t be alone,” another whispered.

Charles exhaled through his nose. “I’ll take her.”

The words barely registered. She was still drowning, still struggling to piece reality back together.

Then his fingers brushed against hers, a silent request.

“Let me take you home,” he said gently. “You need to rest.”

She should have said no.

She should have.

But the world was tilting, her thoughts unraveling at the edges, and Charles was the only solid thing left to hold onto.

So she nodded.

The journey to her flat was slow, every streetlight flickering past like a ghost of normalcy. Her head was a fog, thoughts slipping in and out like trying to catch smoke with her bare hands. She couldn’t keep track of time, couldn’t feel the cold or the warmth—just the distant hum of the car engine and Charles’ quiet presence beside her.

When they arrived, he didn’t immediately leave. He stayed by her side, guiding her up the stairs with gentle hands, his movements smooth, reassuring.

“You should rest,” he murmured, voice soft but insistent, leading her into her flat like a caretaker, like someone who belonged here.

Everything felt too calm.

Too... right.

The flat smelled of tea and the faint scent of lavender, warm and inviting. Charles wasted no time. He pushed her to sit on the couch, draped a blanket over her shoulders.

“Just stay here for a moment,” he said, almost lovingly. “I’ll make you something.”

She nodded, too tired to argue.

The sound of the kettle boiling, the clink of cups, the soft shuffle of his footsteps. He was so attentive, so gentle. The care in his touch felt almost safe—and that was the problem.

She should have known better.

Her eyes fluttered shut, the exhaustion taking over. She barely registered him moving behind her, gathering her hair gently. The soft brush of his hands against her neck.

Then—

A knot.

A pull of fabric.

She blinked, confused. Her heart skipped a beat.

Something was wrong.

She couldn’t quite place it. But the way he was tying her hair—his fingers moving with a precision that felt… too familiar—too careful—

There it was again.

The thread.

The red thread.

She caught a glimpse of it, bright against the dark strands of her hair. Her pulse quickened. Her stomach lurched.

No.

Not again.

Her breath grew shallow. Red. The thread was red.

No.

She stood up, her vision spinning as she backed away, shaking her head. “No, no, no—”

Charles was still standing there, an almost serene expression on his face as he finished securing the knot. “There, all done. You’ll feel better now.”

But her mind was spiraling. She could feel her chest tightening. Her hands were clammy.

“I—I told you, I don’t want this. I don’t—” Her voice cracked. “The thread, Charles. The red thread—it’s the same.”

Charles blinked, his brow furrowing as he took a step closer, his voice soft. “It’s just thread, love. Nothing to worry about.”

But she wasn’t listening anymore. Her heart was racing in her chest, the world narrowing until there was only him—only Charles, standing there with the red thread, with the calm, reassuring look in his eyes.

Her legs buckled beneath her, the room spinning. Her body betrayed her, forcing her to collapse back onto the couch. She gasped for air, clutching her chest as if the pressure was crushing her.

Charles was beside her instantly, lifting her up, his hands warm and gentle as he helped her settle back against the cushions.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice soothing, steady. “You’re safe now.”

The tea. The thread. His presence.

The weight of it all pressed against her, dulling her senses, pulling her under like quicksand.

She blinked up at him, her vision growing hazy. “I— I don’t feel…”

“I know,” Charles said quietly, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. “You’re tired. You need rest. I told you I’d take care of you. Like I always have.”

And before she could protest, before she could make sense of the words or the thoughts crowding her mind, everything went black.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow

[becasworldsstuff]

PowerPointless

Part I

Formula 1 x Russell!Reader

Summary: you decide to throw your brother a birthday party based on the thing he loves most in the world: PowerPoint

Note: a huge thank you to @struggling-with-drivers because this would not have been possible without her help

#1 - Max Verstappen

#2 - Logan Sargeant

#3 - Daniel Ricciardo

#4 - Lando Norris

#10 - Pierre Gasly

#11 - Sergio Perez

#14 - Fernando Alonso

[becasworldsstuff]

he had it coming

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟa reputation series *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

face claim: sabrina carpenter (just had to because shes gorgeous)

max verstappen x singer! reader

BAD BLOOD ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where a private phone call gets leaked, no one gets the full picture and people are quick to judge

date posted: 12.10.2024

I DONT WANNA LIVE FOREVERˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where the public begins to scrutinize to an unbearable point, threats are made and a specific popstar disappears

date posted: 20.10.24

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where she's gone radio silent, everyone settles down and someone begins to plot revenge

date posted: 25.10.24

READY FOR IT ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where she's adjusted to a new life, she begins to let out her feelings and she meets someone new

date posted: 26.10.24

DELICATE ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where she has reservations, everything's a bit fragile for her and hes persistent

date posted: 26.10.24

ENDGAME ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where new beginnings are made, a second championship is one and she allows herself to fall

date posted: 31.10.24

DRESS ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where she admits her feelings, he buys her dinner and they talk about the future

date posted: 6.11.24

KING OF MY HEART ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where she loudly love him, she begins a new era and he never stops loving her

date posted: 2.12.24

DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where new rumors begin, secrets start to be revealed and they never stop loving each other

date posted: 2.12.24

CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where she finally steps into the limelight, writes one more song about her lover and begins to move on

date posted: 3.12.24

THIS IS WHY WE CANT HAVE NICE THINGS ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one in the wake of reputation, people begin to forget and a new story is written

date posted: tbc

thanK you aIMee ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where she reflects on the past, calls out people who hurt her and begins her life

date posted: tbc

_____________________________________________

NEW SERIES!!!!

reply to this to be added to the taglist guysss

[becasworldsstuff]

BCAS MASTER LIST

Bucky Barnes

Just feel tired : mafia!bucky x reader

Look, like a princess : mafia!daddy!bucky x reader

Stucky ( poly)

Something: mafia!stucky x kidnapped!reader

Colin Bridgerton (lover/bff/sister...)

dearest reader: Colin x reader

Simon Basset (lover/bff/sister..)

You are the love of my life: Simon x fem!reader

Meant to be: Simon x fem!reader

Pogues

The pogues princess: pogues x pogue!reader

Rebekah mikaelson

She's my person: Rebekah x reader

Maddy Perez

Love you doll: Maddy x platonic!reader

F1

Kimi antonelli

Pieces to a puzzle: kimi x reader

[becasworldsstuff]

Hi, so can you do Colin Bridgerton lover where they are a secret relationship because of all the stuff that comes with being public and they aren’t ready for that but somehow Lady Whistledown finds out and it’s exposed.

-> pairings: Colin bridgerton x reader

-> warnings: none

Both of their eyes managed to lock together every time the two were in the same room, they danced with others, twirled around the room unknowingly to anyone else apart from the two of them.

Nothing could give away the love their hearts were laced with. So they began to find happiness in being together and wanting to be married as soon as possible. Anthony and Vioket were ecstatic, the girl couldn't have been a more perfect match for their family and their beloved Colin. No one knew except their family and the dark rooms into which they would find themselves happily expressing their love without a care in the world.

The room had began being suffocating for both of them because of the lack of liberty, they breathed the need to conjoin their hands and look into each other's eyes. And so y/n decided to leave the dance room in search of some peace and silence. Colin's eyes traveled along her figure as she kept going further away from his visual and so he decided to follow her, they found themselves in a room, where they hugged each other both in need of physical touch.

Her eyes watery as she looked into his "I can't help it Colin, I need to marry you, no one will ever be you and seeing you out there dance, it makes me melt, because you are not holding me" she says pointing at herself with heavy breathing "I want to marry you" he says with wavering words "words are not enough colin" she goes out of the room, running into a soft body draped in a beautiful dress "oh my, I'm so sorry miss featherington have I hurt you" Penelope eyes looked at her with a softness in them usual for her "don't worry, was just trying to escape my mom" "can I help? I know a way to the kitchen, here, we could eat some biscuits and talk if you'd deemed it interesting" "lovely" the two giggled soundly as they went to the kitchen in secret.

Dearest reader, this author finds herself in need of talking of one of the jewels of this season, the splendid and exquisite future miss bridgerton, I can offer the greatest of my wishes as Mr Colin bridgerton, the third son of the late viscount and viscountess Bridgerton, it seems the two were seen exchanging eyes as well as their mamas, who talked in secrecy for the entire night. However I find myself obliged to talk about miss featherington, once again missing...

The girl took the paper and stopped reading as lady whistledown kept using Penelope as a punching bag, the vallet came running in the tea room announcing miss bridgerton and the viscount bridgerton "I assume you read the paper" laughed violet to the girl's mother "don't worry dear, it will all work out, I know you were hoping for a titled man to bring luck in your sister's marriages but it's now the time to marry" "My mother's right, we are here to start organizing the wedding" Anthony said looking at his future sister-in-law.

The two lovers looked at eachother nodding and gulping down, "I'd like to use as engagement ring my nanas ring if it's fine with you miss Bridgerton" "of course my dearest"

Their eyes locked while she walked down the aisle, after a long mass the two were declared wife and husband and they finally kissed for the first time.

This reader deemed fit put in her best wishes to the new lord and miss bridgerton, to a happy and long marriage

[becasworldsstuff]

THE POGUES`S FAVORITE GIRL

Her window was never locked and the light on her porch never turned off, her father knew damn well that their house had practically became the pogue`s but he did not entirely mind. Sure, his daughter`s friends weren`t so responsible but she was the best girl anyone, who had the pleasure to talk to her, could meet and with friends like that she was surely the most protected girl in the whole OBX.

The pogues rarely missed a bonfire so whoever went always knew that they will be there, and the best way to find them was searching for their princess, other also call her their queen bee, but truly anyone who was in search of one of them could find em in front, in the back or simply at her side. Since she is one of the most beautiful girl in the whole island and that is secret to no one, her relationship with the pogues members is purely platonic for what's known, but who had tried to talk to her never seemed to be enough interesting for her standards, which is plausible with that many people around her setting the bar so high.

Her laugh music to anyone near her and her smile brightened up anyone day`s but it was not enough, and when the whole entire world seemed to swallow her body when her only thought were her best friends who sided with her on everything, with whom she lived the craziest adventures and sleepless nights.

They had all been talking in front of the fire for a big part of the night, and while the others were fully awake, the tiredness behind her eyes was evident, and so, while her eyes began to close every single one of the pogues watched her in awe and looking at each other, they could clearly understand that having her in the group was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to all of them.

" I think she really is the glue between us, you know? I mean she is all for the safety of the planet" said Kiara " and she is the only girl I can bring myself to tolerate, but not only that, she has this infinite patience that keeps us from exploding and doing stupid things, but I don't think we give her enough credits"

" I think so too and her being a ray of sunshine always helped me" John B said " even my dad adored her, as all parents do, how couldn't you? It's impossible"

They all raised their plastic cups " cheer" "to sunshine?" "To sunshine!" They said whispering to not wake her up.

[becasworldsstuff]

She’s my person

Pairings: Rebekah Mikaelson x bestfriend!reader (witch reader)

Summary: reader has been with the scooby squad forever, when Rebekah comes to school, she makes her see her true potential and Rebekah is willing to do anything to not let anyone hurt reader.

Y/n was friend with Caroline, Bonnie and Elena since forever but they never let her bloom out her true nature, her powers always diminished but used and used whenever someone needed them, it had been that way since they found out the supernatural world, now, the originals were in town, which meant keeping Elena safe from them, little did they knew about what their friend could manage to control outside of her powers.

It was another school day which meant getting up, ready and be awaken enough to bare being with Caroline at 7.30 am, while y\n was nearly sleeping she bumped into a cascade of blonde hair sending herself into the ground and earning a laugh from above

‘Oh my god, i cannot say sorry enough its that I’m really just so clumsy, oh Rebekah its you, you look so pretty today, see you in class’

Those were the first words heard of kindness by Rebekah, her eyes never leaving the figure of the sweet, little witch that she knew was friend with the scooby gang, klaus often talked about her, saying that she was just so sweet that she even worried about him.

Rebekah couldn’t not find herself quite entrained by the girl that in history class seemed to be sleeping calmly, then in math, and then she felt some kind of warm feeling when their pe teacher paired them together.

Into 2 weeks of their friendship bekah had felt the most appreciated in her life ever, following y/n around and sending side glances to anyone who looked strangely in their direction, not that she cared what other though, but her new friend probably would.

Their phone calls lasted hours on end and y/n was more at the mikaelson’s house than at her own, not that anyone seemed to mind as she had everything one could possibly search for.

With the passing time, the squad started to realize y/n's absence to their meetings and such, but no one outside of Elena got worried for her. So the next morning, while she was looking for a book in her locker, Caroline, Bonnie and Elena got near her asking about what was happening, receiving a giggle and a mumble that said "oh, nothing, I just made a new friend, I'm just happy about it and I'm trying to spend more time with her as I'm her only friend, see you at cheer practice" and with that the ball of sunshine disappeared in thin air.

Before cheer practice, in the evening, y/n and Rebekah were stretching and chatting, when Damon Salvatore got near them and decided that he needed to talk to the witch to defeat Klaus, so he was shocked when she saw the original girl, with fake confidence and a smug smirk he took the girl's arm and turned around saying he needed her.

In the Salvatore house y/n had been doing spells for over six hours, stopping only to drink water, her strength now starting to fade as her skin surely couldn't look like one of a healthy person. But she kept on, feeling ridiculous in her little cheerleading outfit, and while her eyes were heavy and her body started to tild to the side for the exhaustion one vampire straightened her up " come on, if you're such a strong witch then you should be able to do this" she kept chanting words in Latin not hearing anyone. The door and the windows flew open, and while everyone seemed to be fighting with the wind she looked as if it was in front of her only to make her look more angelic, the candles started to grow and a light spread around the room strongly, while this was happening, the originals came through the open door and saw as the girl cried blood and screamed while doing the spell, not that anyone seemed to care since they where too busy celebrating the outcome.

When the girl hit violently the floor due to exhaustion Rebekah ran to pick her up, her best friend, being used by ghost who she considered being her dear friend, not having seen in hours Rebekah called her brothers who got a witch to locate her.

They carried the young girl in her cheer outfit and placed her in a guest's bedroom. Waiting for her to wake up the originals forgot all about Elena and the doppelganger and the Salvatore Brothers instead Rebekah sat on the bed with the girl's head on her lap while gently stroking her hair.

"You're my best friend"

[becasworldsstuff]

Quick reminder, as a black cat owner, black cats are not bad luck charms and aren’t bad ‘omens’, that being said they also aren’t accessories or an aesthetic. Happy October, please keep black cats safe, and make sure you aren’t adopting them just because you like the idea of them <3

[becasworldsstuff]

Can i please request a romantic Simon Basset x OC/reader fic? Simon being completely in love with her since they were young, but since his father told him to go away, they separated. They met again.

-> Pairings: Simon basset x reader

-> warnings: none

Simon basset and miss l/n had always been friends, thing caused by her bubbly nature that could outshine the sun even in an August day. She was the only one with whom he could talk without stuttering, he felt at ease and nothing could really make him sad if she was near him. Her presence as a reminder that not all in life was sad and angry at him, that not everyone was disappointed in him, on the contrary she never made him feel bad about himself.

When the old duke of Hastings sent his son away due to the problems he was causing to his own mental health, the two were separated, nothing in means of letters or visits between the two for years if not the memories captured together and the burning sensations in the part of their body that the other touched, or the single pink flower dried out inside Skmon's favorite book that she gifted him as a reminder of the beauty hidden behind fragilness. Both the young hearts were left shattered thinking they would never see each other ever again.

But in his drawer were piled up letters written in his best calligraphy and on the best paper money could buy, for his best friend and little piece of heaven, who had been his own safe place in the mess his childhood had been.

It was her who motivated him enough to return to his old house when the man died, and he found her on the steps of his big place, with glimmering eyes and the brightest smile that ever existed. He stopped in front of her with his mouth that had gone dry, she had grown into the most exquisite young lady he had ever seen or imagined to lay eyes on, his eyes widened and his hands were begging for something to grasp onto to not loose balance while she watched him, she took one step forward and his heart skipped a beat. Even if he only realized now he could pinpoint her as the only woman in his life to which he could ever truly love, but he stayed silent, catching up with her like old times, not stuttering like when they were just little kids playing in the garden not caring about duties.

The days passed and the season started, now miss l/n obviously came from a very wealthy family and her kindness and beauty were known upon the society, but this was her first season, and her older brother and father refused to give away such a perfect girl to anyone so, when they catched up with the Duke longing stares they decided to talk to him, a man of honor, well bred, wealthy. Simon never in his life thought that he deserved for his dreams to become reality but he knew he was a duke and her best solution to this world of strange couples, so he was the one to go talk to her father, asking him her hand in marriage and bowing down on one knee with watering eyes as he proclaimed his love to her:

" never had I ever experienced such strong emotions nor strange feelings, my stomach flutters and my troath goes dry as if I was denying myself with water for you, you make my heart stop and the dream of seeing you walk down the aisle to me has been my favorite image for my life. So please accept my undying love for you because I cannot breathe if I'm not near you, neither I can eat or drink or sleep away from you, you are my sun and my moon and every single star in the sky, my whole body was created to match yours and my core only exists to love you and adore you, you make me burn like I was in a fire that cannot die. So please do me the honor and let me make you the duchess of Hastings "

Her response was awaited from the ball room that had just seen him pacing in front of the doors before barging in and stopping the dance that was occurring at the time, she held her breath and nodded slowly while forcing herself to blink as I'd to make herself realize that that moment was true.

[becasworldsstuff]

I love you doll face

-> pairings: Maddy Perez x platonic!reader

-> summary: Maddy and y/n friendship

-> warnings : none

No one ever truly understood Maddy, of course she had friends, there was Lexi, Kat and Cassie but no one truly completed her like y/n did.

Y/n was a sweet girl, who loved caring for others but sometimes she forgot about herself, Maddy felt truly at peace whenever she had the chance to take care of her

At school they sat near each other and Maddy was more at y/n's house than her own but she didn't mind, always making her feel welcomed in the tiny pink room stuffed with stuffies and soft blankets, y/n was truly whatever Maddy could've wanted in a friend.

She loved cuddles and sweets, the color pink and doing Maddy's makeup, cheering st school is what brought them together even though y/n was doing ballet.

Ballet was her way of expressing and Maddy made sure to never miss her shows, always being with her while practicing and when doing shopping for new equipment

Physical touch wasn't very much Maddy love language but y/n made her change her mind and sooner than later it became their way of talking, usually with y/n sat on Maddy's lap or them cuddling together watching stupid 2000s movies

Maddy was y/n protector, and everyone knew it, even Nate couldn't separate them, and even if it angered him, he soon too got caught in her spell of love and affection.

Maddy loves call her doll face because of her sweet resemblances

[becasworldsstuff]

Hello! I have recently found myself in the Bridgerton fandom and would absolutely love to read a Simon x reader fanfic.

I guess plot doesn't matter to me as long as it's sweet and fluffy and involves lots of cute, romantic moments. 🥰

-> pairings: Simon basset x reader

-> warnings: absolute none just fluff

-> becs <3 : hey love, sorry if I didn't do it sooner but I hope you like it

Classic music was playing while ladies and gentlemen were dancing in the big ballroom.

Simon and her were locking eyes, thing not gone unnoticed by her older brother that insisted in him not being a good fit for her.

Even though Simon had promised himself that no marriage was happening, the girl with her sweet eyes managed to break herself into his heart.

With long stripes he got to her side of the room and swiftly asked her to be his dame for the next ball, and not paying a glance at her brother she agreed, not that she could refuse anyway, the moment the music stopped signaling the beginning of another song, the Duke placed his hand on her gloved one leading her to the middle of the ballroom sending shivers down both of their spines.

The ton was watching them move around and twirling while not ever breaking eye contact once, their bodies perfectly completing each other and the look they shared were knees dropping.

At the end of the dance they took different ways while chattering filled the room.

Two weeks later the situation was always the same and while her family was on the promenade walking together, Simon came running to them dropping on his knees in front of her with a ring in his trembling hands, both of their eyes watering and when her pleading yes said with shaking voice made it ways to his ears he was quick to pick her up and hug her tightly while both of them cried with joy.

Lady whistledown was quick on her quill charming people with the duchess and Duke's love story, writing about their honeymoon and their beautiful bond, even her brother after the marriage melted into learning their true story.

3 months later

In the bed the sun was hitting her skin directly making it shine like porcelain, her sweet, big eyes closed with lashes carefully resting on her cheeks, lips parted, a sight to the eye for Simon who was on his side watching and admiring every single one of her details wishing the moment could last forever.

The rings on her hands caught his eyes and gently he picked her hand kissing the finger and lightly touching the knuckles and the palm.

"Love you my love, thank you for being the light of my life"