Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader (y/n)
Warnings: angst, happy ending, kisses, tattoo, lando overthinking, yn being oblivious
Summary: Three years in, F1 driver Lando Norris can't stop overthinking his girlfriend's increasingly secretive behavior. With their anniversary days away, her late-night calls and sudden absences push his insecurities to a breaking point. Convinced their relationship is falling apart, Lando braces for the worst on their special day. But Y/N's hidden agenda isn't what he fears, and her final surprise will change everything.
Author’s note: It just came to my mind and decided to write it. Wasn’t sure if i wanted to make it smutty or loving but eventually decided on the second one. I know I posted so much today but i got adhd and went in hyperfocus with writing what can i say.
For the first time in a long time, Lando Norris dreaded waking up. Not because of racing, media obligations, or travel, but because lately, waking up meant another day of pretending everything was fine. Another day of pretending he wasn't noticing things, pretending he wasn't paying attention, and pretending his stomach didn't twist every single time Y/N's phone lit up.
The worst part was that he knew how irrational he sounded. If any of his friends came to him with the same problem, he'd tell them they were overthinking. Y/N loved him. That wasn't a question; it had never been a question. Three years together had proven that, three years of building a life together, learning every tiny thing about each other, and becoming each other's home.
But somehow, over the last month, a tiny crack had formed in his confidence. And once it appeared, it only grew bigger.
At first it was small things: Y/N spending more time on her phone than usual, taking calls in another room, and smiling at messages she wouldn't explain. Then it became bigger things: late nights, secretive conversations, muttered excuses, and quickly locking her phone whenever he entered a room.
The first few times he'd ignored it. Then he'd noticed. Then he'd started thinking about it. And unfortunately for him, thinking was where all his problems began. Because once Lando started overthinking, there was no stopping it. His mind became his own worst enemy. He could take one tiny detail and turn it into an entire disaster: a delayed text became annoyance, a quiet evening became distance, and a distracted answer became evidence of something bigger.
It was exhausting, and he knew it. Yet somehow he couldn't stop. Not when the evidence seemed to keep piling up, not when Y/N kept acting strange, and especially not when their third anniversary was getting closer every day.
Because anniversaries mattered, at least they mattered to him. Not because of grand gestures or gifts, but because it was a day that belonged entirely to them, a day to celebrate everything they'd built together, and a day to remember where they'd started. And lately... lately it felt like Y/N had forgotten. Or maybe she simply didn't care as much anymore. Every time that thought appeared, he hated himself for it because it wasn't fair to her or to their relationship. But the thought always returned, and each time it stayed a little longer.
A week before their anniversary, Lando was sitting on the sofa while Y/N stood in the kitchen making dinner—or at least pretending to. Every thirty seconds she was checking her phone: typing, deleting, typing again, smiling, then typing more. Lando tried not to look, failed, tried again, and failed again. Eventually she caught him staring.
He looked away. Y/N narrowed her eyes. "Lando."
"What's going on in that head of yours?"
Too much. Way too much. But instead he shrugged. "Nothing."
She studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced. Then her phone buzzed again, immediately grabbing her attention, and just like that the conversation was over. Lando watched her turn away, watched her smile at another message, watched her type a response, and something unpleasant settled in his chest. Jealousy. Not because he thought she was cheating, not really, just because whoever was on that phone seemed to be getting more of her attention than he was lately. And he hated how much it bothered him.
Three days before their anniversary he woke up at two in the morning. The bed beside him was empty. Instantly his eyes opened. The apartment was dark and silent, except for one thing: Y/N's voice, soft and distant, coming from the balcony.
Lando sat up. The curtains were slightly open, enough for him to see her silhouette outside, phone pressed to her ear, talking quietly at two in the morning. His stomach sank. He knew he shouldn't listen, knew he should simply go back to sleep. Instead he found himself frozen, waiting, watching, and overthinking.
A few minutes later she came back inside. The second she saw him awake she jumped. "Oh my god."
Lando forced a smile. "Who were you talking to?"
For the briefest moment she hesitated. And that tiny hesitation was enough to make his chest tighten.
"Just sorting something out."
Something. Always something. Never an explanation, never a name, never details. Just something. Y/N crawled back into bed, wrapped her arms around him, and pressed a kiss against his shoulder. Somehow that should have reassured him; instead it only made him wonder why she was hiding whatever it was.
The night before their anniversary, Lando lay awake long after Y/N fell asleep. Moonlight spilled across the room. Her breathing was slow and even, peaceful, meanwhile his brain refused to shut up. He stared at the ceiling, thinking, thinking, thinking, until eventually he rolled onto his side and looked at her.
She looked beautiful; she always did. Hair spread across her pillow, face relaxed, one hand curled beneath her cheek. The sight usually calmed him; tonight it only made him sad because lately it felt like there was a distance between them. Not physical—emotional. Like she was carrying around a secret, like she was somewhere else even when she was sitting beside him.
He hated that feeling more than anything because he loved her. God, he loved her. Sometimes he thought he loved her too much, to the point where even the idea of losing her made his chest hurt.
Eventually he reached over and brushed a strand of hair from her face. Y/N shifted slightly, half-asleep, and immediately reached for him instinctively, like she always did. Her fingers found his shirt, holding onto it. Even unconscious, even asleep, she still searched for him. And somehow that made everything worse because it reminded him that the woman he loved was right here, and he still couldn't stop doubting.
The next morning he woke up alone. At first he frowned, then he reached across the bed. Cold sheets. Empty space. His heart immediately sank.
Slowly he sat up. The room was silent—no sounds from the kitchen, no coffee brewing, no music, nothing. Then he noticed the folded note resting on her pillow, waiting. His stomach twisted. He picked it up.
Sorry, I got busy. I'll see you in the afternoon. ❤️
That was it. Just one sentence. No happy anniversary, no explanation, nothing. Lando stared at the words, reading them over and over, trying to convince himself he was overreacting, trying to convince himself it wasn't a big deal, trying and failing. Because today wasn't just any day; it was their anniversary. Three years. And she'd left before he woke up without even mentioning it.
The note crumpled slightly in his hand. He immediately smoothed it back out, feeling ridiculous, feeling hurt, and feeling angry at himself for being hurt.
By ten in the morning he'd checked his phone twelve times. No messages, no calls, nothing. By noon he was convincing himself she'd forgotten. By one o'clock he'd started replaying every strange interaction from the last month. By two he'd somehow convinced himself their relationship was falling apart. Which was absurd, completely absurd, but anxiety didn't care. Anxiety was a storyteller, and every story it told ended badly.
Meanwhile, Y/N was having the most stressful day of her life because everything was going wrong. Absolutely everything. The cake she'd ordered wasn't ready, the flowers were delayed, the tattoo appointment had run longer than expected, and the surprise dinner still needed finishing. And she hadn't been able to text Lando because she knew she'd ruin everything. The entire point was to make the evening special, to make him completely unsuspecting. What she didn't know was that she had succeeded a little too well.
When she finally unlocked the apartment door later that afternoon, she entered quietly. The place smelled empty; if loneliness had a scent, she was convinced this was it. She immediately spotted Lando on the sofa, and her heart sank because he looked miserable. Not angry, not annoyed—miserable. Like someone had stolen all the sunlight from him.
His eyes lifted, meeting hers, and suddenly she knew. She knew exactly what had happened. Weeks of secrecy, weeks of phone calls, weeks of strange behavior, combined with disappearing on their anniversary. Oh. Oh no.
That one word shattered her heart because it sounded so small, so uncertain, nothing like him. The excitement she'd been carrying all day immediately disappeared. The surprise could wait; first she needed to fix whatever damage she'd accidentally caused. So she crossed the room, sat beside him, and gently took his hand.
And finally he did. Everything: every insecurity, every fear, every worry, every terrible scenario he'd imagined. Y/N listened quietly, never interrupting, never laughing, never dismissing him because even though his fears weren't true, his feelings were. And they mattered.
By the time he finished, he looked exhausted, like he'd been carrying around a weight for weeks. Y/N immediately wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, holding him tightly.
He buried his face in her shoulder. "I know."
"No, seriously." She kissed his temple. "I didn't realize I was making you feel like that."
Lando closed his eyes. The relief alone nearly made him emotional because suddenly everything felt normal again. Like the distance had disappeared, like she was back, like they were back. And then she smiled—a mischievous smile, the kind he knew meant trouble.
"Now you have to let me spoil you."
And for the first time all day, he laughed—a genuine laugh, the sound immediately brightening the room.
The dinner took his breath away. Candles, flowers, his favorite foods, desserts, wine, everything. Every single detail had been planned perfectly. And with each passing minute, guilt settled heavier inside his chest because while he'd been imagining worst-case scenarios, Y/N had been doing all of this for him, for them, for their anniversary. Every dish, every candle, every decoration—weeks of effort, weeks of secrets, weeks of phone calls, weeks of planning.
And suddenly everything made sense. Every strange behavior, every mysterious message, every late-night call, every hidden smile. Not distance, not secrecy—love. Just love.
By the end of dinner he couldn't stop smiling. Neither could she. The dinner had lasted longer than either of them expected, partly because the food was incredible, mostly because neither of them seemed capable of stopping themselves from talking. Every conversation somehow led to another memory: their first date, their first argument, the first time she'd attended one of his races, the first apartment they'd shared, the first "I love you." Every story seemed brighter tonight.
Maybe because for the first time all day, Lando felt completely at peace. The knot that had lived in his chest for weeks had finally disappeared. Y/N was here, smiling, laughing, looking at him with the same warmth she'd always had. And now he felt ridiculous for ever doubting it.
As she collected the empty plates from the table, he leaned back in his chair and watched her move around the apartment. She looked nervous, which immediately caught his attention. Not stressed, not anxious—nervous. The kind of nervous that came with excitement, the kind of nervous she got when she was waiting for someone to open a gift she'd spent ages choosing.
Lando narrowed his eyes. "You've got that look."
Y/N froze halfway to the kitchen. "What look?"
"The one where you're trying not to smile."
She immediately looked away, which only confirmed his suspicion.
Her grin widened. "What about it?"
"You think I'm going to freak out."
Lando laughed. "Should I be concerned?"
She pretended to think about it. "Probably."
Her laugh echoed through the apartment. God, he'd missed hearing that sound. A few minutes later she finally sat back down across from him. The nervous energy hadn't disappeared; if anything it seemed worse. She was practically bouncing in her seat.
Lando pointed immediately. "There."
"I'm not doing anything."
Y/N bit her lip, failed miserably at hiding a smile, then finally sighed. "Okay."
His eyebrows rose. "For what?"
His heart jumped slightly. The excitement in her voice was impossible to miss. Whatever she'd planned clearly meant a lot to her, and suddenly he found himself getting nervous too.
He groaned dramatically. Y/N looked entirely too pleased with herself. Then she stood, holding out her hand. "Come on."
Lando took it immediately, allowing her to pull him from the chair. The entire walk toward their bedroom felt suspiciously dramatic, mostly because Y/N kept smiling to herself. And every time he asked why, she refused to answer. By the time they reached the bedroom, his curiosity was driving him insane.
She closed the door behind them, then turned to face him. For the first time all evening, she actually looked nervous—not playful, not teasing, genuinely nervous. And that immediately caught his attention. The smile faded from his face.
Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "Yeah." A pause. Themn "I just really hope you like it."
Something in her voice made his chest squeeze—the vulnerability there, the uncertainty, like this surprise mattered more than she'd been letting on. Lando stepped closer immediately. "Love. I could never hate anything that comes from you."
The smile she gave him then was small, soft, affectionate, and somehow it made her seem even more nervous. "Okay."
Now he was concerned. "Why would I laugh?"
His confusion only deepened. "I promise."
Y/N took a slow breath, then another, before finally reaching down toward the hem of her shorts. Lando blinked, immediately looking away, then looking back, then looking away again, which made her laugh.
"I don't know what's happening."
She rolled her eyes affectionately, then gently shifted the fabric of her shorts, just enough to reveal the curve of her hip. At first Lando didn't understand what he was looking at. His eyes landed there, his brain took a second to process it, then... everything stopped. His breath, his thoughts, the entire world.
A small tattoo sat against her skin, fresh enough to still look new, delicate, perfectly detailed, placed low on her hip, in exactly one specific spot. One spot. His spot. The place he kissed absentmindedly every single day. The place his lips always found whenever she walked past him, whenever they hugged, whenever he wrapped his arms around her from behind, whenever she stood in front of him while he rested his chin on her shoulder. A tiny habit neither of them had ever really talked about, yet somehow it had become theirs. And she'd remembered. Of course she'd remembered.
The tattoo itself was elegant, not oversized, not dramatic, just meaningful: his racing number, beautifully done, and beneath it, his initials—small, subtle, permanent.
For several seconds Lando simply stared, unable to process what he was seeing. Because surely he wasn't seeing what he thought he was seeing. Surely she hadn't actually— no, she had. The evidence was literally right there. His number, his initials, on her skin, forever.
"Oh." The word escaped before he could stop it.
Y/N immediately winced, the reaction clearly wasn't what she'd hoped for. "Oh?" she repeated nervously.
Lando blinked, still staring. "Oh."
Her face fell slightly, and suddenly she looked terrified. "Lando."
He swallowed hard, still staring, still trying to comprehend what was happening. Because over the last month he'd imagined a hundred different explanations for her strange behavior, a hundred different possibilities, a hundred different secrets. Not once—not once—had this crossed his mind. Not even remotely.
"Say something." Her voice was smaller now, more uncertain, and that finally snapped him out of his trance.
His eyes immediately lifted to hers. The nerves on her face nearly broke his heart because she genuinely looked worried—worried he wouldn't like it, worried he'd think it was too much, worried she'd made a mistake. And suddenly all he could think about was how long she'd probably spent planning this: the phone calls, the messages, the disappearing acts, the secrecy, the appointment, the weeks of preparation. All for this moment. All for him.
"You got a tattoo." Brilliant observation. Lando mentally kicked himself.
Y/N laughed nervously. "Yeah."
"Yeah." A pause. Then quietly— "Do you hate it?"
The question hit him like a truck. "Hate it?"
Her shoulders lifted slightly. "You've been staring at it for like two minutes."
"I—" He stopped because she was right. He had. Because he couldn't stop looking at it, couldn't stop looking at the placement, couldn't stop thinking about why she'd chosen it. Why she'd chosen there. Not somewhere obvious, not somewhere visible—somewhere intimate, somewhere meaningful, somewhere that belonged to the two of them. The realization hit him so hard his chest physically hurt.
Y/N's expression softened, immediately understanding what he meant. "Yeah."
His throat tightened. "Because I always kiss you there."
A small smile appeared, the softest smile he'd ever seen. "Yeah."
Lando stared at her, then looked back at the tattoo, then back at her. His vision suddenly felt suspiciously blurry. Oh no, not now, absolutely not now. His eyes widened. "Are you crying?"
Y/N immediately panicked. "What?!"
She stared, then burst into laughter. "Lando!"
His voice cracked, which only made her laugh harder until she finally noticed the actual tears gathering in his eyes. Then her laughter disappeared completely.
"Oh." Her own expression softened instantly. "Oh, baby."
Lando laughed helplessly, mortified. "I hate you."
She stepped closer, only inches away now, close enough for him to see every tiny emotion crossing her face: the nervousness, the hope, the love, all of it.
"I got it because of you." His heart squeezed. Y/N gently reached for his hand, holding it against her waist, against the tattoo, against the spot she'd chosen so carefully. "You always kiss me here." Her voice was quiet now, almost shy. "And every single time you do it, I feel loved."
"So..." She looked down briefly, then back up. "I wanted something that would remind me of you."
The tears came properly then, and he didn't even care because suddenly all he could think about was how much he loved her, how impossibly, ridiculously lucky he was, and how this incredible woman had spent weeks planning a surprise while he'd been busy convincing himself something was wrong. And somehow she still loved him anyway.
He shook his head, still smiling, still crying, still completely overwhelmed. Then he pulled her into his arms hard, almost knocking the breath from both of them. Y/N laughed immediately. "Lando!"
He buried his face in her neck, holding her tighter. "You got a tattoo."
"Because I can't believe it."
She smiled against his shoulder, then quietly whispered "I wanted a piece of you with me forever."
That did it, absolutely destroyed whatever composure he had left. And when he finally pulled back and kissed her, it wasn't rushed, wasn't desperate, wasn't teasing. It was slow, tender, filled with every emotion he couldn't put into words—a kiss that said thank you, a kiss that said I love you, a kiss that said I'm sorry for doubting, a kiss that said you're everything to me.
When they finally separated, both slightly breathless, Lando rested his forehead against hers. His eyes drifted down one last time to the tattoo—to his number, to his initials, to the place she'd chosen. And somehow he fell in love with her all over again.
Because anyone could get a tattoo. But this? This wasn't about ink, it wasn't about initials, it wasn't even about his racing number. It was about the meaning behind it, the fact that she'd paid attention, the fact that she'd remembered, and the fact that she'd taken one tiny little habit he'd never even thought twice about and turned it into something permanent, something that would stay with her forever.
And in that moment, standing in their bedroom with his arms around her, Lando realized that no gift he ever received would top this one. Not because of what it was, but because of what it meant. And because it came from her.
