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[rosietoesf1]

held - ln1 - adhd

❀ pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

❀ word count: 1.1k

❀ summary: lando's girlfriend struggles when lando doesn't text her back right away

❀ warnings: reader has adhd, talks of rejection sensitive dysphoria

❀ authors note: requested by @tatertot101xx

❀ adhd - attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder: a neurodevelopmental condition that affects focus, attention, organisation and impulse control

endurance masterlist

She knew it was irrational.

That didn’t stop it from hurting.

The message had been sent three hours ago. A simple thing, a photo of the view from their window, captioned miss you. She had started at the screen long enough to know the exact pixel pattern of the read receipt beneath it.

Seen.

No reply.

Her chest felt tight, like something small but sharp had lodged itself just under her ribs. The familiar heat crawled up the back of her neck, pricking her scalp, her thoughts already sprinting ahead without permission.

He’s busy, she told herself. He’s probably in meetings, or the simulator, or asleep.

But her brain didn’t listen.

He’s annoyed.

You interrupted.

You’re being too much again.

You’re embarrassing.

She dropped her phone onto the bed as if it had burned her and pressed her palms into her eyes, breathing too fast, heart stuttering. Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria didn’t care that she knew better. It didn’t care that she’d lived with ADHD long enough to name the spiral, to recognise the way her emotions went nuclear over the smallest perceived slight. 

Knowing didn’t make it stop.

It just meant she watched herself fall.

By the time Lando finally pushed open the door to their hotel room that evening, she had already retreated inward. She sat cross-legged on the bed, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands, headphones on but no music playing – just noise cancellation, just quiet enough to keep her thoughts from getting louder.

He noticed immediately.

He didn’t announce himself. Didn’t bounce in with stories from the paddock. He set his bag down gently, watched her shoulders from across the room – hunched, tight, defensive – and adjusted his approach like he did on track.

He crossed the room and sat beside her, close but not touching. Letting her feel his presence without pressure.

“Hey,” he said softly.

She flinched away. She pulled the headphones down, eyes flicking to his face and then away just as fast. “Hey.” 

One word. Flat. Controlled.

Lando frowned, just slightly.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

She shook her head immediately. “Nothing.”

The lie tasted bitter.

Lando didn’t push – not yet. He leaned back on his hands, giving her space, letting the silence stretch. He knew this part too. The way she retreated when she felt like she’d done something wrong, even if no one had said so.

He glanced up at her phone, face-up on the bed.

Unlocked. Unread notifications blinking.

He put the pieces together quietly.

“Is this about me not replying earlier?” He asked gently.

Her breath hitched before she could stop it.

“No,” she said too quickly.

That was enough of an answer.

Lando turned towards her fully now, voice calm, but warm. “Love.”

She hated that word sometimes. Loved it, too. Hated how easy it cut through her.

“You can tell me,” he said. “I won’t be mad.”

Her fingers twisted inside the sleeves of her hoodie. She stared at a spot on the carpet, jaw tight.

“I know it’s stupid,” she said finally, her voice thin. “I know you were busy. I know that. But my brain just–” she stopped and swallowed. “It spiralled.”

Lando softened instantly. “Oh” he murmured.

She laughed weakly. “There it is. The ‘oh’. The moment you realise I’m being ridiculous.”

“No,” he said immediately. “The moment I realise you’re hurting.”

That made her eyes burn.

She shook her head again. “It just… it felt like I’d annoyed you. Or like you didn’t want to talk to me. And then I started thinking about all the other times I’ve been too much, or distracted, or said the wrong thing, and–” Her voice cracked. “It feels like being rejected even when I know I’m not.”

She finally looked at him then, eyes glassy. “And I hate that I can’t stop it.”

Lando didn’t answer right away.

He moved closer instead, slowly and deliberately, until their knees touched. He held his hands out in front of him, palms up.

“Can I?” He asked.

She hesitated for a second, then nodded.

He took her hands gently, thumbs brushing over her knuckles in grounding, repetitive strokes. Not overwhelming her.

“I didn’t reply because I was in a sponsor thing that ran late,” he said softly. “I saw the message and smiled like an idiot, and then I thought I’d reply properly when I was done.”

He paused, making sure she was listening.

“And I should’ve sent something quick. That’s on me.”

Her brows furrowed. “You’re not–”

“I am,” he said gently. “Not because you’re wrong. Because I know silence is hard for you.”

She looked down at their hands. “It makes everything feel… louder.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve noticed.”

She winced. “Is that bad?”

“No,” he said instantly. “It just means I need to be more mindful. That’s not a flaw. That’s communication.”

Tears spilled from her eyes then, quiet and humiliating.

“I hate this sometimes,” she whispered. “I hate how fast I go from ‘everything’s fine’ to ‘you secretly hate me.’.”

Lando leaned his forehead against hers.

“I don’t hate you,” he said softly. “Not even a little. Not on your worst days. Not when your brain is being cruel to you.”

She breathed him in and let her eyes close at his familiar scent.

“I get scared you’ll get tired of it,” she admitted. “Of me needing reassurance. Of me misreading things.”

Lando pulled back just enough to look at her properly.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” He lifted her chin gently. “I choose you. Every day. Especially when it’s messy.”

Her lower lip trembled.

“You don’t need to earn that,” he added. “And you don’t lose it just because your brain tells you lies.”

She laughed weakly through tears. “It’s very convincing.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’ll help you reality-check it.”

He brushed her hair back gently. “Next time it starts, tell me. Even if it feels embarrassing. Even if it feels small. I’d rather know than have you hurting alone.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“And,” he added, smiling softly. “I’ll work on being better with quick replies when I can. Team effort.”

She leaned into him then, forehead against his shoulder.

“Thank you for not making me feel crazy,” she murmured.

“You’re not crazy,” Lando said, arms wrapping around her carefully. “Your brain just runs fast. Sometimes it takes a wrong turn.”

She smiled faintly. “You sound like my therapist.”

He snorted. “Don’t tell her, she’ll charge me.”

They stayed like that for a while, her breathing slowly evening out, the sharp edges of the spiral dulling under his steady presence.

Later, as they lay in bed with his arm around her waist, she spoke quietly into the dark.

“If I ask for reassurance sometimes… it’s not because I don’t trust you.”

“I know,” he said without hesitation. 

“It’s that my brain doesn’t trust me.”

He kissed her temple, causing her to smile into his chest, exhaustion finally tugging at her eyelids.

taglist: @moonlightphilosopher, @drs-and-daisies, @butchoscar, @nickie-amore, @papaya-on-top, @cedartwig, @todoyaexiste, @dreaming-starlet, @chronic-pain-and-positivity, @tarenm, @thisdoesntexsist-cherry, @cs-jj-firebug, @engelsmoment, @treehouse-mouse, @moonlitelaine, @melancholymoonlightsworld, @kebsf1shit, @thecraziestfox, @marywantsttobattle, @chezze-its, @celiaisacaterpillar, @tatertot101xx, @avidcreep, @elisemeetsthesun, @spooky-librarian-ghost, @thepenskefiles, @whump-loverz

[dreams-and-desire]

Night Ride

Summary: Lando’s whole world revolves around Yn. While Max may not approve, Yn loves spending time with Lando.

One shot from "Shopping at Hermes"

Lando had always been restless.

He tapped his fingers, bounced his knee, scrolled aimlessly when he was bored, hated stillness. But this—this was different. This wasn’t restlessness. This was fixation.

His phone lit up again.

He smiled before he even read the message.

Max watched him from the kitchen doorway, coffee forgotten in his hand. It was early. Too early for the way Lando was grinning at a screen like it had personally told him a secret.

“You’re doing it again,” Max said.

Lando hummed, eyes glued to his phone. “Doing what?”

“That thing where you forget the rest of the world exists.”

Lando typed, erased, typed again.

“She just sent me a picture of her notes,” he said absently. “They’re color-coded. It’s kind of adorable.”

Max pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mate.”

Lando finally looked up, brows knitting. “What?”

Max sighed. “You’ve been like this for weeks.”

“So?”

“So you’re different,” Max said. “You’re distracted. You’re late. You’re smiling at your phone like it’s your girlfriend.”

Lando’s ears flushed. “She’s not— I mean—”

He stopped himself, then frowned, like the words had gotten stuck somewhere between his chest and his mouth.

Max’s expression softened just a fraction. “You really like her.”

Lando looked back down at his phone. “Yeah.”

There was no hesitation. No bravado. Just honesty.

“That’s what worries me.”

Lando’s jaw tightened. “Why does everyone think something’s wrong?”

“Because there is something wrong,” Max said gently. “Not with her. With the situation.”

Lando leaned back against the counter. “She’s not a situation.”

“She’s nineteen,” Max replied. “She’s in uni. She works retail. She lives at home. You live in a completely different universe.”

“I didn’t plan this,” Lando snapped. “I didn’t walk into Hermes looking for—”

“I know,” Max interrupted. “And that’s why it scares me. You didn’t plan it, and now you’re in deep.”

Lando’s phone buzzed again. He glanced at it instinctively.

Max noticed. Of course he did.

“You ask if she’s eaten,” Max said. “If she’s slept. You text her first thing in the morning and last thing at night.”

“So?” Lando shot back. “That makes me… what? Caring?”

“No,” Max said quietly. “It makes you attached.”

Lando didn’t deny it.

“And she doesn’t know what comes with you,” Max continued. “The fans. The scrutiny. The comments. They’ll rip her apart just for existing near you.”

Lando swallowed. “You don’t think I’ve thought about that?”

“Have you told her?” Max asked.

Silence.

Lando stared at the floor.

“I’m protecting her,” he said eventually.

Max shook his head. “You’re protecting your feelings. That’s not the same thing.”

Lando’s phone buzzed again.

He looked at it.

Max threw his hands up. “See? You can’t even finish a conversation.”

“I’m sorry,” Lando said, already unlocking his phone. “She’s asking if I’m okay.”

Max stared at him for a long moment.

“Just don’t let this end badly,” he said quietly. “For either of you.”

Lando didn’t answer.

He was already typing.

Yn loved nights like this.

Curled up in bed, fairy lights glowing softly, phone warm in her hands. She had a textbook open beside her, untouched for the last half hour. Every time she tried to focus, her phone buzzed again.

Lando: did you eat dinner

She smiled.

Yn: yes

Yn: my mum made soup

Yn: are you checking up on me again 🤨

Lando: always

Lando: someone has to

Her cheeks heated.

She didn’t know how he did it. How he made the smallest things feel special. Like being asked if she’d eaten was proof she mattered.

Yn: uni was exhausting today

Lando: what happened

She told him. About the lecture that dragged on forever. About the girl who talked too loud behind her. About the way she felt like she was constantly running to catch up.

He listened. Always.

Lando: you’re doing great

Lando: I’m proud of you

She stared at the screen, chest tight.

No one ever said that to her like that. Not so simply. Not without expectation.

Yn: that means a lot

There was a pause.

Then:

Lando: are you awake?

Her heart skipped.

Yn: yeah

Another pause. Longer this time.

Lando: I can’t sleep

Lando: would it be stupid to ask if you want to go for a drive

She sat up immediately.

Her room felt too small suddenly. Her world too quiet.

Yn: right now?

Lando: only if you want

Lando: I don’t want to pressure you

She didn’t feel pressured. She felt wanted.

Yn: I want to

Yn: but I can’t have a car outside my house

Lando: why not

Yn: my parents 😭

Yn: they’d hear

She expected him to hesitate.

Instead:

Lando: okay

Lando: where can we meet

Her fingers trembled slightly as she typed.

Yn: a block away

Yn: by the old bakery

The reply was immediate.

Lando: I don’t love you being alone outside at night

Her lips curved into a soft smile.

Yn: I’ll be fine

Yn: promise

Another pause.

Lando: text me when you’re there

Lando: don’t wait long

She pulled on a jacket, slipped into her sneakers, and moved quietly through the house, heart pounding louder than her footsteps.

The night air was cool. Calm. Empty.

She hugged her arms around herself, checking her phone.

Then headlights appeared.

Lando pulled over, already climbing out of the car.

“What are you doing?” he asked immediately, eyes scanning the street.

She shrugged. “Waiting for you.”

“You shouldn’t be standing out here,” he said, concern etched across his face.

Before she could respond, he shrugged off his hoodie and draped it around her shoulders.

“Lando—”

“Put it on,” he said softly but firmly. “Please.”

She did, sleeves falling past her hands, his scent wrapping around her.

“There,” he murmured. “Better.”

She looked up at him. “You’re very protective.”

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

They got into the car. Music filled the space, low and familiar.

As they drove, she talked.

About her friends. Her classes. Her worries. Her dreams that felt too big to say out loud.

He listened with his whole body. One hand on the wheel, the other relaxed on his thigh, knee brushing hers every so often.

At some point, without thinking, she reached for his hand.

Her fingers slid between his, tracing the cool metal of his rings as she spoke.

He didn’t pull away.

He squeezed gently instead.

The city lights blurred past. Time stretched and softened.

Two hours disappeared.

When he finally slowed and parked, the silence felt loud.

She looked at him.

He was already looking at her.

Neither spoke.

Her heart raced. “I should go.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

Still, neither moved.

She leaned in first.

Their lips met softly, hesitantly. A question more than a statement.

Then he kissed her back.

Slow. Deep. Careful, but full of want.

His hand slid to her waist, pulling her closer, lifting her gently over the console so she was half on his lap, breath catching against his mouth.

She laughed softly between kisses, hands curling into his hoodie.

It was intense, but restrained. Heat without crossing the line.

When they finally pulled apart, foreheads touching, breathing heavy, he whispered, “Text me when you’re home.”

“I will,” she promised.

She stepped out of the car, legs shaky, heart full.

She didn’t see him wait.

Didn’t notice him follow at a distance, careful, protective, watching until she was safely inside.

Only then did he turn back.

Max was right.

The world would be cruel.

But as Lando sat in his car, phone lighting up with her message—home safe—he knew one thing with absolute certainty.

If the world wanted to hurt her, it would have to go through him first.

[apexfantasies]

take your time / i'll be here

softdom!lando x fem!reader

summary: you have vaginismus and are nervous about your first time having sex with your boyfriend; vaginismus is a condition where a person’s vagina tightens up when there is an attempt to insert something inside of it.

includes: smut (mdni!), pwp, established relationship, fluff, dry humping, fingering, oral (f receiving), piv, praise, so many petnames, aftercare 

wc: ~ 2.8k

a/n: this is the fluffiest smut i have ever written, and i think it's also my favorite?

lando had his arms wrapped around you as you laid on the couch, half-watching some movie you’d both seen before. his presence was always comforting, the way he let you drape your body over his and hold you close like you’re the most precious person in the world.

you turned your face into his neck, bored of the movie that was playing and admittedly, you were feeling a little bit sleepy. he ran his firm hand through your hair while the other gripped your waist, “you tired, love?”

nodding into him, you whispered meekly, “not too tired.” you pulled away to look at him, biting your lower lip. he shot you an inquisitive look and brushed a strand of hair from your cheek. “no? not too tired for what?” his pupils widened as he glanced down at your smooth, velvety lips.

he shifted his weight under you, bringing your legs around to straddle him while you rolled your eyes. “uh-uh tell me, darling, use your words,” lando said softly. your lips met his with a gentle, longing, too short kiss. his voice was earnest when he broke away from you, “what do you want, angel?”

your eyes searched his, silently begging him to find the words for everything you wanted to ask for. lando was patient, almost frustratingly so–the little voice in your head that always told you it’s all for show, it was back again. he never pushed you to do more than you were able to, and he always let you take it slow and tell him what you could handle. all of the times you had been intimate together it was just the foreplay, something you felt embarrassed of, guilty even.

sometimes you’d apologize for not being ready to go all the way, and you worried that it wasn’t enough for him, but he was always right there to reassure you. he always checked on how you felt afterwards, and you would confide in him about your anxiety. he would say something like, “you’re perfect, it doesn’t matter to me love,” or, “take as much time as you need, i’m not going anywhere.” he’d remind you that he loved you for who you are, that it wasn’t about sex. 

regardless of how much he hoped the sex would be possible for you, you weren’t sure. having sex with other partners has been possible but still painful, even after trying dilators and exercises and everything possible that didn’t break your budget. no matter how many times lando plunged his fingers inside of you, it still felt like a shock. the stretch always burned, even when it was just one. the slow process of letting your body accept him like you willed it to was painstaking, and you ached for him, to have all of him. the whimpers you let out every time you squeezed around his fingers made lando feel something between heartbreak and arousal; he hated to see you in pain but loved every single one of your pretty noises.

there was also the concern about his size in particular. even in your mouth he felt too big, too thick for you to take all of the way. not that it ever mattered to him. 

all lando ever wanted was to take care of you, to make you feel wanted and loved, like he always showed you. and all you wanted was to be enough, to feel like you were enough for him.

you leaned into him again, this time to whisper in his ear–almost like it was shameful, “i think… i want to try it.” 

his knee shifted under you, gently moving you along his thigh and pulling you in for a deeper kiss than before. “are you sure, darling?” he asked, and you shook your head, “very sure.”

“we’ll take it slow, whatever you need-” lando spoke, but you cut him off with another needy kiss. “i’m serious, love. if you want to stop, you’ll tell me yeah?” 

a hum of agreement vibrated out of you. “mhmm, now shut up and kiss me,” you murmured, and lando’s lips crashed onto yours instantly. it was all heat and need, his tongue brushing yours in the way that always makes your stomach churn. the space between you was basically already nonexistent, but it wasn’t close enough. every movement to get closer to lando was another drag against his thigh under your throbbing cunt. the way you groan in his mouth as he kisses you would almost be pathetic if he wasn’t doing the same. 

your hips push you higher into his lap for you to grind against his already hard cock and whimper against his lips. the kiss only broke for you to moan desperately at the feeling of him so close to where you need it. “you like grinding on me, baby?” lando said, almost taunting you, yet his words were still met with a nod. he kissed your cheek as you kept chasing the friction, and his lips moved down to the spot under your earlobe and down your neck, sucking and biting gently; you could only whine at his touch.

he let out a breathy laugh against your skin at the noise and itched to bring you closer. one hand was gripped the top of your ass, keeping you in motion, and the other snuck under your shirt to massage your breasts. he teased your perked nipple with his thumb, leaving you to moan softly. “that’s it let me hear you, such a good girl,” he muttered before taking off your shirt. lando took your exposed nipples into his mouth, giving each the attention they needed with a delicate swirl of his tongue and sucking on them enough to make you squirm away from him.

“oh darling, you must be a mess,” he said making you flustered. “let make take care of you, my love,” he hummed, picking you up gracefully with his strong arms and carrying you to his bedroom. he planted little kisses on your cheeks and stroked your hair as he walked. lando felt like your anchor, holding you down and making sure you didn’t drift away.   

in the room, he laid you down on the edge of the bed. he slipped his fingers under the waistband of your pajamas and panties, “can i take these off?” 

“please,” you said, urging him to hurry up. his hands worked painfully slowly to slide everything off, leaving you completely vulnerable when he was done. he sunk to his knees and slung your legs around his neck, spreading you open wide. he brought his fingers to your dripping folds, “all of this for me?” he asked as he played with your clit. “such a beautiful girl, love your pretty pussy.”

lando kissed the inside of your thighs, making you wait for what you so badly needed, as he rubbed his thumb over your clit. but your impatience grew, “lan,” you pleaded.

“what do you want, baby? use your words.”

“need you, your mouth- please,” you cried out, whinier than you meant to.

“that’s all you had to say… such a good girl,” he whispered into your cunt, the rumble of his voice lighting up your entire body. he teased you at first, only offering small flicks of his tongue on your clit. you tried to grind against his mouth, chasing his warmth and your need. his hands gripped your hips to hold you down, only for a moment before extending one for you to hold.

you accepted his hand, and he finally gave you what you wanted. he licked your clit like it would save him, alternating between long strokes and sucking. you felt pure bliss while his mouth was around you, his spit combining with the wet juices leaking out of your pussy. 

lando lifted his head for a moment to ask, “you close, love?” 

with a nod you pulled him back into your cunt, your free hand gripping his curls as you grind onto his tongue. he moans at the taste leaking out of you, and it sends shivers down your spine. you clench around nothing, tightening your legs around lando’s neck as you orgasm, moaning his name breathlessly. 

he gets up to kiss you, and you feel yourself all over his lips and chin. you bite on his lower lip and pull away. “i think you need to come again,” he says, mouth ghosting over yours and his hand reaching back down. “i can’t,” you reply. “yes you can. you deserve it, sweet girl,” and you groan at lando’s words. 

his thumb grazes over your clit again, and he pushes in one finger at the same time. you tense around him out of nervousness, and a slight burn at the stretch, despite being used to the feeling. he watches your face closely as it happens, to observe how you tilt your head up and bite your lip to stifle a moan. “you’re so perfect, doing so well for me,” he says, curling his fingers at your sweet spot, coaxing beautiful moans from your mouth. 

“i love those pretty sounds,” lando said and kissed your neck. “are you ready for another?” he asked, teasing your entrance with a second finger. 

“oh god- please lando,” you whimpered. 

he made room for the second one, pushing into your entrance gently. he took his time, letting you adjust to the size of his large fingers as you tightened around him. “that okay, darling?”

“more than okay- god lando-” your eyes widening as he kept pushing deep inside. he took it as permission to keep going. he moved faster, thrusting and curling inside of you the way you liked, he even spread his fingers out, trying to stretch you out and get used to the feeling. you tightened around him, signaling another climax quickly approaching.

“let go for me,” he urged you, and it was enough for you to come again. you strained around his fingers, soaking them with your arousal. “that’s it, you’re always so pretty like this,” he sighed as you moaned out, feeling your release throughout your whole body. “god, i’ll never get tired of that sound,”  he muttered more for himself than for you, like it would kill him to not say it aloud.

lando removed his fingers from your core, and you felt desperate for him to be inside of you again, wincing at the loss. he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked your juices off of them, groaning at the taste. 

your heart dropped to your stomach in that moment, and you cursed under your breath. your hands extended to his tented pants, palming at his erection. “lan, please- fuck i need you,” you whined. 

“are you sure, baby?” lando’s hands caressing your waist as he asked.

“i’m sure, but…” you hesitate, “but i’m nervous, lan,” you whispered helplessly under him. “it’s okay, angel, i’m gonna take care of you. we can stop if you need to, just tell me if it’s too much, yeah?” he replied, cupping your cheek and planting a gentle kiss on your lips. “i know you can handle this, i’ve got you.”

“hurry,” you egged him on, and your urgency drove him to undress as quickly as possible. you admired his muscular arms and his flushed, leaking cock as he stripped in front of you. 

he rubbed the head of his cock through your slick folds and against your clit, easing you into the sensation. you took a deep breath trying to relieve your nerves, and he held your face close to his, trying to ground you. after a few moments, he felt you relax underneath him, so he asked, “you ready?”

“please, i need you,” you begged, and your hopeless tone made his cock twitch. he lined himself up with your slit, slowly pushing in just a little. you flinch at the feeling and pull away slightly. “you okay, love?” he asked, stilling his movement immediately.

“yeah just… hurts a little bit,” you say. “do you want to stop?” he asks, and you shake your head no. “is it okay if i move? i won’t go any further, i promise.”

“mhmm, just let me pull you in closer when i’m ready,” you explain. “take whatever you need, darling,” lando replied.

as he promised, lando made small, barely-there thrusts with the head of his cock. his lips were on yours, tenderly kissing you like he’s worried you’ll break. you whimper at the stretch but instantly start adjusting to the pressure. the time he took to make you orgasm was a necessity–the slick that overflowed from your cunt made it a little easier to let him slip in. one hand tangles in his curls and the other scratches at his back as soft moans roll from your mouth into his. 

you finally adjust to his size and guide him in further, pulling at his waist. he doesn’t move more than you let him, stopping him before he even gets halfway in. it’s tight and painful but not as much as you expected it to be. “you’re doing so well for me, baby,” he says as he thrusts into you patiently, not moving too fast or too far. a quiet moan falls out of him as your pussy clenches around his length. your moans overlap his while you calm down and allow yourself to feel the pleasure of lando moving inside of you.

your hips buck up, ready to take more, and grip him to bring him in as deeply as he can fit. the pressure fills you with intense electricity, a slight burn that’s overwhelmed by pleasure. both of you moan again at the sensation, filthy noises flooding the room. “you’re perfect, taking me so well, darling,” he groaned in your ear as he fucked into you with deep, slow strokes, “my perfect girl, you’re all mine.”

“i’m yours, lan,” you whisper back, “all yours.”

that longing feeling between you and lando evaporated as he buried himself inside of you, hitting the back of your aching cunt perfectly, just like that. you melted underneath him, feeling weak and shaky yet so good and safe. it was the first time in a long time that the sex felt like something more, that you were properly taken care of and loved by someone else.

he plunged himself deeply into you, watching your expressions shift as you moaned and bit your lip to make sure you weren’t in pain and to admire your beauty.

“this… shit how did i get so lucky- this pussy is mine,” lando groaned. you squeezed around him, a response to his praise and his pace. “fuck lando please,” you cried. his thrusts only faltered slightly when you tightened around his cock. “you’re close?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“yes, don’t stop-!” you exclaimed. 

“good girl, want to watch you fall apart on me,” he said, reaching his hand down to rub your clit. instantly you saw stars as you quivered around him, your legs completely useless. your own orgasm brought his on too. he pulled out in time, spilling out all over your chest with a grunt.

lando collapsed beside you and sighed a deep noise that came straight from his soul, “you’re fucking perfect, you know that?” he played with strands of your hair, staring at your beautifully fucked out face. “was that okay?” he asked.

“yeah, it was… incredible,” you say, meeting his gaze, “i love you, lan.” 

“i love you too, you’re incredible. you’re a fucking angel.” you blushed and turned away giggling. he tilted your face back with a finger to meet his eyes, “no- i’m serious, i could look at you all day.” 

you rolled your eyes at him and started to stand up to clean off, but he insisted you keep lying down. “uh-uh stay here. i’ll take care of you,” he said and gave you a be right back kiss.

a few moments later, lando returned with a towel and glass of water. the glass was set on the nightstand before he kneeled next to you with the towel, cleaning up all of his come. “are you okay?” he asked, eyes still focused on cleaning himself off of you.

you nodded, “yeah, it burns a little, and… i’m kind of sore.” 

“i’m sorry, angel,” he frowned at you.

you pulled him down to be on top of you again, “i’ll be okay in the morning, plus it was worth it,” you smirked.

he flipped onto his back, and you slotted yourself into his side, “you’re worth it, you’re everything.”

he held you close, hands running through your hair and all over your body as he kissed you all over, your cheeks, nose, lips, forehead, neck, anywhere he could reach. lando kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear until sleep got the best of you both.

a/n: do we like the small text? hope you guys loved reading this as much as i loved writing it <3

[yearningbtch]

Heavy - LN4 x wife!reader

click for pt2 here

Is someone telling me don't get in the water? What have I done?

heavy warnings: miscarriage, grief, suicidal ideation, suicide attempt (non-graphic), recovery, emotional distress.

a/n: please read with care. You are loved baby, reach for help if needed, you are not a burden. Even cracked walls let the sunlight in. You’re not broken, just healing. 💙

I DID, IN FACT, CRY LIKE A BABY W THIS ONE

🔊 listening to: Heavy - the Marias

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You were supposed to be happy.

That’s what everyone said. Married, stable, in love, expecting a baby.

Lando and you were the dream couple on social media. Everything looked perfect from the outside.

But “perfect” ended the afternoon you collapsed in the kitchen.

One second you were standing, thinking about dinner. The next, you were on the floor, dizzy, terrified, bleeding through your clothes.

The ambulance lights, the cold bed, Lando’s voice shaking every time he said your name—everything blurred together.

And then the doctor said it.

“I'm sorry Mrs Norris, you had a spontaneous miscarriage.”

You felt yourself disconnect from your own body as Lando grabbed your hand, panicked and crying but trying so hard to stay calm for you. He didn’t blame you. Not for a second.

But you blamed yourself more than you could ever admit.

The pregnancy had been public, everyone knew, everyone had celebrated. Your families cried happy tears. Your friends jumped and hugged you both knowing the loved you both shared for kids. Strangers online called you “mama” before you had even decided how you felt about the whole thing.

Losing the baby felt like losing everything in front of millions of eyes.

Therapy helped—sometimes. That’s what you liked to tell yourself. Maybe if you kept saying it out loud, it would start to feel true. Other days, you couldn’t even drag yourself out of bed.

You followed Lando to the races because he had to work anyway (when bad things happen, time stops only for you—everyone else keeps eating, sleeping, breathing) and being alone at home felt dangerous.

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Monaco was supposed to be a distraction.

It wasn’t.

Lando had a team dinner that night. He didn’t want to go, but you told him to. He needed to be with his team; he needed a break, he had lost the baby too, your baby, the one you were supposed to raise together.

“I’ll be fine,” you said. And you meant it when you said it.

But as soon as the door closed, you felt yourself unravel.

The hotel room was too quiet. His shoes by the door. His hoodie on a chair. The ultrasound picture still tucked inside his wallet—he carried it everywhere.

Your chest tightened. Your throat burned. You couldn’t get a full breath in.

You went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, but your hands betrayed you. The glass slipped, crashing to the floor in a million tiny pieces. You just stood there, staring at the shards, heart thumping.

You ended up in the bathroom, not entirely sure how you got there.

You ran the bath.

You didn’t think about dying. You didn’t decide anything.

You were just tired, and therapy felt like a waste of time. Exhausted from carrying pain that didn’t give you one minute of peace.

You stepped into the bathtub. It was warm.

First, you dipped your feet in, then your legs. The Lando shirt you wore as pajamas was too long, soaking up the water as it clung to you. You sank into the full bathtub, the water still running, spilling over the tiles. For a moment, you just stared at your fingers, then tilted your head back, eyes on the ceiling, feeling the water trace every inch of your skin.

The thought came again, like it always did since that day. What would the baby have been like? A boy or a girl? You had wanted a boy, imagined him running alongside Lando, speeding in the garden in a makeshift go-kart like his. The thought made your chest ache, heavy and hollow.

Your eyes burned, tears came.

I just want the pain to stop. I just want to see my baby. Just for a second.

You plunged your head under without thinking, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling through the water. Your lungs burned as you held your breath, and when you finally let go, bubbles tore through the quiet of the house.

You wondered what people in Monaco might be doing right now. Some sleeping, some having dinner, some lost in their studies. And then your mind, as always, found its way back to Lando—how his soft curls framed his face, how he smiled, the way he always looked at you.

Lando.

You didn’t think about consequences. You didn’t think about Lando coming back.

You just let go.

The world went quiet. Your breathing slowed. Everything faded into a numb, heavy nothing.

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Lando came back earlier than expected.

He had dessert in his hand—your favorite. He wanted to surprise you.

“Love? I’m back!”

Nothing.

His expression tightened immediately.

“Love?”

Then, through all the silence, he heard the sound of running water. He thought you must be in the shower, so he made his way to the bedroom where the bathroom was.

He went to drop off his sweatshirt when his sneakers splashed. He looked down—only to find the floor wet. Quickly, he raised his eyes to the bathroom, where the door was slightly ajar.

“Baby… are you okay?”

He asked, getting no answer. Lando peeked through the half-open door.

“Love?”

His voice cracked.

He shoved the door open—and froze.

You were underwater.

His body reacted before his brain did.

“NO—no, no—baby, please—please—”

He reached into the tub and dragged you out, water splashing violently over both of you. Your body fell against the cold tiles—heavy, unresponsive.

“Baby, look at me! Love!” Lando shook you hard, panic rising as he saw you didn’t respond. Your lips were purple, and you felt cold to the touch.

His hands shook uncontrollably as he started CPR on the cold bathroom floor.

He counted out loud because he couldn’t think straight. He breathed for you. He pressed your chest harder than he meant to because he was terrified of losing you.

But he didn't want to hurt you, he didn't know what he was doing so he took his phone out and called for an ambulance.

“Come on—come on—come on—please—”

Minutes later paramedics rushed to the bathroom, it was too crouded. They made Lando step away from you so they could work, he still wouldn’t let go of you.

He could only see you, with his favourite shirt, pale and wet.

Paramedics continued with the CPR alternating with some shots of what Lando guess it was adrenaline.

And then—

You gasped. Coughed violently. Your lungs burned.

Your eyes opened.

“Lando?” you whispered softly.

He broke. Completely. He pulled you into his arms, crying so hard he was almost choking on it.

“Don’t do that to me—please—please—don’t ever—”

You were shaking too hard to answer.

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The hospital felt cold. You were so ashamed, if anyone found out you were done for.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. It was the only sentence you could form.

“Don’t,” Lando said instantly, grabbing your hand like he feared you’d disappear. His wet clothes were a reminder of what had happened hours ago.

“Don’t apologise for hurting. Don’t apologise for something you didn’t choose.”

Your eyes filled with tears.

“I didn’t want to die,” you said, voice cracking. “I just… wanted the pain to stop.”

Lando nodded, breathing hard like he was fighting tears again. “I know. But I can’t lose you. I already lost one of you. I can’t—”

He stopped talking, swallowing, eyes full of love and exhaustion. “Next time it gets that bad, you tell me. You call me. You scream my name. I don’t care if I’m racing or asleep or in another country—I’ll be there.”

“I didn’t want to be a burden, I didn't want to be heavy” you whispered.

“You’re not heavy baby, you're my wife” he said instantly, fiercely. “You’re the person I love.”

[jbbuckybarnes]

Roleplay [LN4]

summary: Lando couldn't lie, he loved when you pretended to have jumped straight out of a hentai. He liked when you pretended that you didn't know why his dick inside of you felt nice. He hated to admit that he liked your self-infantilization. But god, he loved the high pitched sounds you made.

fem!Reader x Lando Norris

Warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, p in v, ageplay, dd/lg elements, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, creampie

He mustered you in your soft pink underwear, the lace bands around your thighs and the pink overknee socks with ribbons on them.  "You're so pretty, darling. You know that?" You giggled, hiding behind your hand. "C'mere." He pulled you close to him, looking right down into your innocent eyes looking back up. "Are you a pretty girl?" You lit up and nodded. His finger wandered over your nose, "And such a good one too."

His thumb went over your lower lip, "Open." A endeared smirk was on his face as he pushed his thumb into your mouth. He bit his lip at the innocent eyes you made up at him still, even like this.

He grabbed your lower jaw to open your mouth softly, pointer and middle finger sliding over your tongue, "So gorgeous." You softly blinked in response, feet wiggling excited at the compliment. He watched you gag slightly and blush thrown off, "Oop, sorry love." He smirked as he made you gag again, "I swear I'm not doing it on purpose. My fingers are just too big for your mouth, hm?" You softly nodded, fully blushing now. "Love when you blush for me, little girl." He felt your breathing hitch and your eyes avert. "Don't be shy, babygirl." He murmured and pulled his fingers out of your mouth. He pointed your chin up, "Can I remove your cute little panties, hm?"

You angled your head, "Why?" You watched him lick his lips, "I wanna show you something, yeah?" You reluctantly nodded before you were walked backwards until your calves hit the bed and made you sit down. "Lay down, I'll take it off for you, princess." He cooed. His hands diligently weren't disturbing your ribbons while taking it off. He started taking his pants off as well, "What are you doing?" His eyes peeked your way, "Just part of what I wanna show you, okay?" You nodded again, patient, curious.

He laid down next to you, holding eye contact with you as his hands wandered between your legs. You made an uncomfortable sound as he touched your clit, his fingers briefly pushed into you before coming back up to your face. He pushed the slick fingers into your mouth, "You taste like candy, hm?" You whinced softly and he gave you a soft smile. "Can I make you feel good?" You angled your head again, confused. "Trust me, yeah."

He grabbed you and handled you around like you weighed nothing to him, head gently pushed into the soft pillow before he sat between your legs he was gently pushing apart. You whimper, "What are you doing?" He bit his lip, "Showing you something. Promise it'll feel good." You frowned skeptical. You gasped when his body started pushing into you. "Trust me, it'll feel good." He whispered.

He loved the innocent shocked face you made as you watched his length slowly vanish deeper into your body. "Here, hold this." He directed you to hold your legs stretched close to your body. "Fuck you feel good, baby." He got out strained before he started moving in small thrusts. Your skeptical innocent frown looking up at him made him frown back in desperation. He gave you a slightly harsher thrust and you whined in response, "Why does it feel good?" "Cuz you're my pretty girl." He cooed and you nodded as he increased his pace. "Cuz your tiny body was made to be used like this." He groaned and you softly moaned in return.

"Be a good little girl and let me hear you, hm? Wanna know if it feels good." He cooed and your more needy frown up at him was accompanied by a nod. He started moving into you faster, harsher, your bodies meeting sounded wetter with each movement. He heard you whimper, whine, then those sweet high pitched moans started. And if he didn't want anything to stop, it was those moans that increasingly sounded like you were an anime girl being used in the vilest ways.

He watched you tear up as you let out whiny moan after whiny moan. "C'mon, look at me. Don't stop looking at me, yeah?" His voice was rough between pants. Your body was shaken by his intense movements, high pitched voice pressing out an "Feels so good." "Uh-huh." He smirked, sweating above you. He heard just how wet he made you, "Let it happen, don't hold back for me, little girl." There was a questioning moan and face up at him before he started pounding into you, eyes looked on yours. He watched your blushed face slowly go cross-eyed as your loud and high-pitched moans became hoarse and desperate. He watched your body forcing you to stop breathing as you made a mess on him and the sheets in two waves interrupted by an obscenely pornographic moan.

He kept going as you frowned up at him, "I'm sorry." He groaned, "You did nothing wrong, baby." "I'm so sorry." You repeated, searching his eyes. He pushed you deep a few times with whiny groans before exiting you and finishing on your stomach, "Don't be sorry, look? You also made me make a mess."

He grabbed your hand and made you push into the liquid before softly shoving the fingers into your own mouth. "Will you let me do it again, but inside of you?" He watched you frown, "Why?" "It's like...cake filling, it's just better when it's in the cake, hm?" You reluctantly nodded.

He grinded himself against you, making you whimper at the raw feeling of the stimulation. "And princess?" You focused fully on him, "Need you to make a mess again, yeah? Nothing to be sorry for." "But–" "–Nothing to be sorry for!" You nodded blushing. He pushed into your body again with ease from how hopelessly wet you had become. "Does my body inside of you feel good, babygirl?" You nodded heavily. "Nuh-uh, use your words, darling." "Yes, feels so good. So overwhelming." He chuckled as he immediately went for a higher pace, making you squeak before you started desperately moaning from the overstimulation of your body.

"Doing so well for me, little girl." He cooed again as you teared up look up at him. "Promise the tears are worth it, princess. You're so patient." He said in a strained voice. With a squeal you unexpectedly made another mess for him as he kept pumping into your body. "Good girl. Feels that good, hm?" He chuckled panting. You nodded heavily with a moaning breath out accentuating how much he was shaking you again. You squealed another time, making yet another mess. "Can't stop making a mess?" You nodded with a deep teary-eyed frown moaning more than you were breathing. Your body couldn't stop. There was another high-pitched long moan cut off by another wave of wetness. "Can you do one more for me, pretty girl?" "Uh-huh." You pressed out thrashing in the pillow. "Told you it would feel good." He chuckled before letting himself rut into you deeply. His hand went to grab face to look at you.

"Look at me. Wanna see your reaction to me making a mess inside your body, baby." He said it so sweet with a smile between heavy panting. His body pounded into you harshly, making you sob and moan out repeatedly, before he fully pushed inside of you and stayed buried there. He watched your eyes roll back at the sensation inside of you as you made one last mess in response.

His fingers stroked your hair, "Good girl. Such a beautiful little princess for me. Taking me so well." He kissed away the tears on your face before letting you let go of your legs. "I'll take off your pretty bows so I can clean you, yeah?" You nodded with a trusting soft smile. He carefully removed all your little pieces and decorations before softly picking you up and letting you back down in the shower.

With the water went away the nastiness but also your roles, "Fuck, this feels illegal every single time." You giggle, "I love how much it gets you going and how cute and careful you are." He cupped your face, "Of course, gotta make my baby feel safe, hm?" You kissed him, "You always do." He kissed back, "Plus it's the only way I make you squirt like that. Worth it." You laughed at that. "What? I love the way you just can't stop. It's so hot." He captured your lips more sensual and hungry, "So fucking hot." "Guess we'll have to reverse the roles at some point so I can understand what you mean." You both giggled at that.

Kinktober Masterlist

[mrsfancyferrari]

Summer Break

Summary: You get sick during a grand prix and you tried to hide it until you get to Monaco but fate had other plans.

Song: Thinking Bout You by Frank Ocean

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 5.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The final European Grand Prix before the mandatory Summer Break was always a grueling affair, not just for the teams, but for the partners who lived and breathed the chaotic energy of the paddock.

This year, it was worse. The heat was a thick blanket, the pressure was palpable—Lando needed a strong finish to solidify his mid-season standing—and you, unfortunately, had picked up something nasty.

It started subtly on Thursday night, a dry scratch in the back of your throat you blamed on the recycled air of the F1 travel bubble. By Friday practice, it had escalated to a dull, throbbing ache behind your eyes.

You swallowed four ibuprofen tablets before the driver’s briefing, hoping the pain would stay low enough not to show in your forced bright smile.

Your motivation for hiding it was simple: Lando was stretched thin. He looked frazzled, running on caffeine and pure adrenaline, trying to squeeze every last tenth out of the car.

If you admitted you were debilitatingly ill, he would instantly switch from F1 driver mode to frantic boyfriend mode, and you couldn't bear to be the reason he lost focus in the final race before the long, restful pause.

“You look a little pale, love,” Lando said Friday evening, his brow furrowed as he stripped off his race suit in the small, temporary team room.

You were scrolling through your phone, pretending to be deeply fascinated by team social media updates. “Just the lighting,” you chirped, managing a believable laugh that didn't sound like a cough. “And I swear the humidity here steals all the colour out of your face.”

He accepted the explanation easily enough. He was too preoccupied analyzing telemetrics to interrogate your appearance. He kissed the top of your head, smelling faintly of sweat and burning oil, and rushed off to media commitments.

You spent the rest of the evening nursing a mug of tea that tasted like nothing, trying to ignore the persistent clamminess of your skin.

Race day was a blur of noise, blinding sunlight, and sheer force of will.

Every step felt like wading through water. Your head pounded rhythmically with the roar of the engines. You took up a position near the hospitality suite, forcing yourself to stay standing, convinced that if you sat down, you might not be able to get back up.

The symptoms were demanding attention now. A deep, shivering chill kept sweeping over you, followed immediately by waves of overheating. You were perpetually teetering on the edge of nausea.

When Lando climbed out of the car after a masterful, defensive race that netted him crucial points, the scene exploded into chaos.

You pushed through the celebrating mechanics, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs—a rhythm that had more to do with fever than excitement.

He spotted you by the barriers and his face split into a triumphant grin. He was buzzing, high on adrenaline and relief. He swept you up in a fierce, sweaty hug.

“We did it! Summer break, finally!” he yelled against your ear.

The smell of his sweat—raw and salty—hit you like a punch. You instinctively gripped his shoulders, trying to stabilize yourself as the world tilted.

“Amazing, Lan,” you whispered, trying to pull away subtly before the hug lasted too long. The heat radiating off his body was too much.

He held you at arm’s length, his eyes shining. “Seriously, are you okay? You look… shaky.”

Panic flared. You flashed the best, most convincing smile you could muster. “Yeah, just the sheer volume of noise. My ears are ringing. Let’s get you out of here, please. I need quiet.”

It was the perfect excuse. He was used to your sensitivity to the post-race noise level. He wrapped a supportive arm around your lower back, guiding you back toward the private transport area.

Every fiber of your being was focused on maintaining a rigid, upright posture, refusing to give in to the overwhelming fatigue pulling you down.

You survived the post-race interviews, the mandatory team dinner, and the goodbyes. The promise of Monaco, of your own quiet apartment and two weeks of mandatory rest, was the only thing keeping you upright.

The private jet was a sanctuary of cool air and soft leather, but even this comfort felt like a trial.

As soon as the 'seatbelt' sign clicked off, you bypassed the plush seating area and made a beeline for the small master cabin, claiming you needed to prep the next leg of travel logistics.

Lando, collapsing onto a couch with an audible sigh of exhaustion, looked relieved but concerned. “Don’t start working, love. We’re officially on holiday. Come sit. I ordered the chicken satay; I know how much you love it.”

“In a minute,” you mumbled, shutting the door. You didn't dare look at the satay. Just the mention of spicy peanuts turned your stomach sour.

You stripped down to your clothes and lay on the bed, pulling the thick, woolen airplane blanket up to your chin. You were freezing. Absolutely, teeth-chatteringly cold, even though the cabin temperature was perfectly temperate.

You drifted in and out of a shallow, feverish sleep, the kind where dreams and reality blur together.

When the cabin door opened softly, you jolted awake. Lando was standing there, a bottle of water in his hand.

“Hey. Just checking on you,” he said, his voice low. He sat gently on the edge of the bed. “You’ve been asleep since we took off. That's unusual. Usually, you’re reading or editing photos.”

You forced your eyes open, noting the time difference. You’d been out for nearly three hours.

“Just super wiped out,” you lied, your voice rough and dry. You sat up, propping yourself against the pillows. “It was a crazy weekend. I think my body just finally shut down knowing we made it to the break.”

Lando reached out and feathered his fingers across your forehead, a gesture so tender it almost broke your carefully constructed façade.

“You’re a little warm,” he noted, his tone shifting from casual concern to genuine worry.

You moved your head quickly, claiming you just had your hair wrapped under the blanket. “It’s fine, Lan. Just residual paddock heat. I promise. I’m just excited to crash properly in our own bed.”

He looked unconvinced, but he knew you were stubborn. He kissed your cheek, lingering for a moment, and then got up, taking the empty water bottle. “Okay. But when we land, we are going straight to bed. No unpacking, no dealing with mail. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you breathed, relief flooding through you. You just had to make it through the landing.

The journey from Nice airport back to the familiar quiet of your Monaco apartment was agonizing. You sat silently in the sleek car, curled against the passenger door, focusing fiercely on the lights flashing past the window. The headache was now seismic, every bump in the road sending a fresh wave of pain.

You were so close. Just a few more minutes, and you could hide in the privacy of your own shower and bed.

When the car finally pulled up to the secured entrance of the building, Lando was already springing out, retrieving your luggage with the energy of a man who knew two weeks of PlayStation and no engine noise awaited him.

You followed him into the elevator, leaning heavily against the cool metal wall.

“I’m going to run a bath,” Lando announced cheerfully as the doors opened onto your floor, the scent of sea salt and expensive cleaning products hitting your nose. “Or maybe just a quick shower. Then we can order that terrible pizza place we love.”

“Sounds perfect,” you croaked. You started to pull off your travel bag, but your hands felt weak. “Listen, I’ll just… I’m going to hit the bathroom first. Long flight.”

You knew you only had seconds. The adrenaline that had carried you since Friday was finally depleting completely, leaving you hollow and dizzy. You needed to get away from Lando before he saw the visible tremor in your hands.

You rushed through the apartment, not even stopping to drop your bag. You bolted into the master bathroom and slammed the door shut, locking it with a trembling hand.

You leaned against the cool wood, closing your eyes, taking deep, gasping breaths. You felt the sudden, alarming rush of blood leaving your face.

Just hold still. Just breathe. You’re home. You’re safe.

You took one step toward the vanity, intending to splash cold water on your face, but the room began to whirl with terrifying speed. The sleek, pale marble floor seemed to rise up to meet you.

A strangled sound escaped your throat, a desperate attempt to catch your balance, but it was too late. Your knees buckled, and the last coherent thought you had was the crushing weight of failure—you hadn't quite made it.

Then, there was only blackness, followed by the sickening, echoing thud as your body hit the floor tiles.

Lando had just reached the kitchen, tossing his car keys onto the counter, when the sound ripped through the apartment. It wasn't the sound of dropping luggage or a glass breaking; it was heavy, dense, and utterly wrong.

He froze.

“Love? Are you okay?” he called out, instantly discarding the keys and sprinting toward the master suite.

Silence. Only the faint running water he’d left on in the sink.

He tried the bathroom door. Locked.

“Hey! Open up! What was that noise?” He rattled the handle, his voice tight with sudden, raw fear.

“Open the door, dammit! I mean it!”

When there was still no response, his professional calm shattered. Lando Norris was used to dealing with high-speed crashes and mechanical failure, but the terrifying silence behind that mahogany door was the worst crisis he had ever faced.

He kicked the door hard, right near the lock, but the heavy installation held. He backed up, took a running start, and kicked again, pouring all his pent-up racing adrenaline into the action.

The wood around the latch finally splintered with a horrible crack. He shoved the door open and stopped dead, the sight of you crumpled on the floor instantly stealing the air from his lungs.

You were lying awkwardly next to the marble vanity, your head resting against the cool cabinet, your face ash-white. You looked impossibly small and frail.

"Oh, God. No."

Lando dropped to his knees beside you, his hands shaking so violently he could barely check your pulse against your wrist. It was weak, but rapid. You were breathing, shallow gasps escaping your lips.

"Hey. Stay with me. Wake up, please. Wake up."

He didn't waste time trying to move you far. He scooped you into his arms, your body feeling unnaturally heavy and limp. He carried you out of the humid, confining bathroom and laid you gently on the bed.

He grabbed the phone, his fingers slick with sweat, and dialed his manager, Zak, and then the emergency line, his voice high-pitched and choked.

When you woke up, it wasn't the harsh rush of paramedics or sirens you heard, but the sound of Lando’s quiet, desperate voice across the room. He was talking to a doctor, his back to you.

"…no, she's been insisting she's fine since Friday… I thought she was just tired. Severe dehydration combined with what? A viral infection? Why didn't she tell me?" His voice cracked on the last sentence, laced with guilt and furious frustration.

You tried to sit up, a low groan escaping your lips.

Lando spun around instantly. He was a wreck. His hair was messy, his eyes bloodshot, and he was still wearing the same clothes from the flight. The panic hadn't left his expression.

He was beside you in an instant, gently pushing you back down. “Don’t move. Lie still. I’m right here.”

He moved with meticulous care, adjusting the pillows and placing a cool compress on your forehead.

"You absolute idiot," he whispered, but the harsh words were belied by the gentleness of his touch. He took your hand, holding it tight, bringing it up to his lips for a soft kiss. "What were you thinking? Hiding this? You scared the hell out of me."

Tears pricked your eyes, not from the pain, but from the sudden, overwhelming wave of his affection and fear.

"I’m so sorry, Lan," you whispered, your throat aching. "I didn't want to distract you. It was the last race. You needed the points. I thought I could make it until the plane landed."

He shook his head vehemently, leaning closer until his forehead rested against yours. "Distract me? You think your health, you, are a distraction? Nothing is more important than you. If you were sick, I should have pulled you out of the paddock, taken you home, and nursed you back to health. Points are replaceable. You are not."

He pulled back slightly, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. "It doesn't matter if I finish P10 or P1. If you're on the floor and I don't know why, nothing else matters."

You reached up, tracing the deep lines of worry etched around his eyes. "I know. It was stupid. Blind stubbornness."

"Yes," he agreed immediately, though his face softened. "But I love your blind stubbornness. Just not when it almost gets you hospitalized."

He helped you sip some water, waiting patiently until you managed to swallow it without triggering nausea.

The doctor, consulted over the phone, confirmed the diagnosis: a severe viral infection, likely flu, made dangerous by total exhaustion and acute dehydration from pushing yourself too hard in the heat.

There was no need for the hospital, but mandatory, absolute rest was required for at least a week.

Lando didn't leave your side for the next 48 hours. The Summer Break plans—the spontaneous road trip, the parties—were instantly forgotten, replaced by a fierce, devoted domesticity.

He moved a makeshift desk into the bedroom so he could answer emails while keeping an eye on you. He slept in the armchair beside the bed, waking every hour to check your temperature, murmuring soft words of comfort even when you were asleep.

He made you bland toast and flavorless broth, careful not to let you overexert yourself even by lifting your head.

On the third afternoon, the fever finally broke. You woke up feeling clear-headed, though utterly weak, the world no longer tilting off its axis.

You found Lando dozing on the chair, his head leaned back, a half-read racing magazine fallen in his lap. He looked exhausted.

"Lan," you called softly.

He stirred, blinking his heavy eyelids open. When he saw you, truly lucid and looking better, a massive wave of visible relief washed over his face.

"Hey, you," he whispered, crossing to the bed. He sat beside you, drawing his fingers gently through your damp hair.

"I'm sorry I ruined the start of your break," you said.

He leaned down and pressed a long, tender kiss to your forehead, then to your lips. "You didn't ruin anything. This is the break," he said, pulling the duvet up around your chin. "Resting, taking care of the person I love most in the world? This is exactly what I needed. Everything else can wait."

He settled onto the bed beside you, carefully wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You leaned into his warmth, no longer clammy or shivering, but comforted.

You felt the steady beat of his heart against your temple, a reassuring rhythm that spoke of safety and love. You closed your eyes, finally, truly home and safe, knowing Lando wouldn't let anything hurt you now.

The Summer Break had begun, quietly, tenderly, and perfectly imperfectly. . .

[vettelesbian]

[mrsfancyferrari]

Story on Lando Norris getting a full body massage sleepy. :)

Soft Hands

Summary: Lando Norris getting a full body massage from you after a triple header

Song: TRACK 10 · CHARLI XCX

Author’s note: Sorry I haven't posted in a while! School sucks! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 2.1k

MASTERLIST - F1

The soft hum of the air conditioning was the loudest sound a moment ago, but then the gentle thud of your front door opening broke the silence.

You’d been waiting, perched on the edge of the sofa, a book forgotten in your lap, for what felt like an eternity. Triple-headers were brutal, not just on the drivers, but on the people who loved them.

The exhaustion wasn't just physical; it was a deep, bone-weary fatigue that settled into the soul.

And there he was.

Lando.

He stepped into the hallway, leaving his carry-on bag just inside the door, too tired to even kick it aside. His shoulders, usually broad and confident, were slumped.

His hair, usually a playful mess, lay flat and a little damp with sweat, clinging to his temples. Dark smudges bruised the skin beneath his eyes, and the usual spark in his gaze was dimmed to a flicker.

He wore a simple t-shirt and track pants, a stark contrast to the sleek team gear he lived in for weeks. He looked… utterly spent.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as his eyes found yours. A weak, tired smile touched his mouth, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hey," he mumbled, his voice gravelly with fatigue.

You were on your feet in an instant, crossing the living room in three swift strides. You didn’t rush him, didn't bombard him with questions. You simply opened your arms.

He walked into them without hesitation, his body slumping against yours like a puppet whose strings had been cut. You wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling the familiar warmth of his skin through his thin shirt, and the unexpected rigidity of the muscles beneath.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, smelling faintly of airplane and adrenaline, and just… Lando.

"Rough one?" you whispered, your fingers already threading through his soft hair, gently scratching his scalp.

He nodded, a barely perceptible movement that vibrated through you. "Yeah. So rough. Just… empty."

You just held him, letting him lean into your strength for a few minutes, sensing the sheer weight of his weariness.

Finally, you pulled back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in your hands. His eyes fluttered, struggling to stay open.

"Come on," you coaxed softly, "let's get you cleaned up. Then, food, and then…" You paused, a gentle idea forming. "I'm giving you a full-body massage. No arguments."

He blinked slowly, processing your words. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor went through him, a mixture of surprise and something akin to a desperate longing.

"A… massage?" he whispered, his voice laced with disbelief, as if he hadn't even considered such a luxury.

"A full-body massage," you confirmed, your thumbs gently stroking his cheekbones. "You're practically vibrating with tension, Lando. Those shoulders feel like concrete. And I bet your back is screaming."

He let out a weak chuckle, but it quickly turned into a pained grimace. "You'd be right. Everywhere hurts. I just want to collapse."

"Exactly. But collapsing won't get rid of the knots. A good massage will," you said, squeezing his hands. "Go. Hot shower. As hot as you can stand it. I'll get everything ready."

He hesitated for another moment, then, with another deep sigh, he nodded. "Okay," he managed, a hint of vulnerability in his tired eyes. "Okay, please."

You gave him a quick, soft kiss on his forehead. "Go on."

While he was in the shower, you moved with purpose. You dimmed the lights in your bedroom, drawing the curtains to make the room feel like a cozy, private cocoon.

You lit a few scented candles – sandalwood and lavender, calming and earthy. You pulled out the softest, thickest towels from the linen closet and placed them on the bed.

Your special massage oil, infused with essential oils known for muscle relaxation, was warmed slightly in a bowl of hot water. You put on a quiet, ambient playlist – instrumental, no lyrics, just soothing melodies that faded into the background.

By the time Lando emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a fluffy towel, his skin flushed pink from the heat, the room was transformed.

He paused at the doorway, his eyes taking in the soft glow, the inviting bed, the gentle music. A small, genuine smile finally touched his lips, chasing away some of the weariness.

"Wow," he breathed, a warmth in his tone that hadn't been there before. "You really went all out."

"Only the best for my utterly exhausted boyfriend," you replied, gesturing towards the bed. "Come on. Lie down on your stomach."

He walked slowly, his movements a little stiff, and let the towel drop to the floor. You tried, and failed, not to notice the lean strength of his body, the sculpted lines of his back and shoulders, even in their state of tension.

He settled face down on the bed, his head turned to the side, one arm tucked beneath his pillow. A faint groan of discomfort escaped him as his back muscles protested the shift.

You sat beside him, taking a moment to just look at the landscape of his back. The McLaren orange lines were gone, the sponsorship logos gone, the helmet gone.

This was just Lando, raw and vulnerable, every muscle fiber screaming for release.

You poured a generous amount of warm oil into your hands, rubbing them together to further warm it before placing them gently on his lower back.

The first touch made him flinch imperceptibly, a natural reaction to a sudden input after so much sensory deprivation.

But then, as your hands began to move, slow and deliberate, kneading into the small of his back, he let out a long, slow exhale.

"Oh," he mumbled into the pillow, the sound muffled but filled with immediate relief.

You started with long effleurage strokes, spreading the oil, warming up the tissue, letting your hands map the terrain of his exhausted body.

You could feel them immediately: the tight knots, the ropy tension in his lower back, the areas that felt almost bruised with overwork.

These were the muscles that bore the brunt of the g-forces, the constant braking, the unforgiving seats.

"Pressure okay?" you asked softly, beginning to apply more specific, deeper pressure with your thumbs and elbows.

"Mmm-hmm," he hummed, a lazy sound. His entire body seemed to sink further into the mattress.

You worked your way up his spine, focusing on each vertebra, gently stretching and releasing the paraspinal muscles. You could feel the subtle clicks and pops beneath your palms as the tension began to yield.

His breathing deepened, becoming slower, more even. The scent of sandalwood and massage oil filled the air, mingling with the clean smell of his freshly showered skin.

When you reached his shoulders, you gasped softly. They were practically petrified. The deltoids, the trapezius, the rhomboids – every muscle group was locked.

This was where the steering wheel tension, the helmet weight, the strain of cornering really settled.

You spent a long time here, using your forearms, your thumbs, and the heels of your hands, working in small, circular motions, gradually breaking down the resistance.

He groaned again, louder this time, not in pain, but in profound satisfaction. "That's… that's the spot," he slurred into the pillow, his voice already sounding heavier, closer to sleep. "Oh, my actual god. You're a wizard."

You smiled, a warm glow spreading through your chest. There was nothing more fulfilling than being able to bring him such simple, pure relief. "Just getting started, sleepyhead."

You moved from his shoulders to his neck, an area often overlooked but crucial for a driver constantly turning his head against g-forces.

You gently tilted his head to the side, supporting it with one hand, while your other hand worked into the sternocleidomastoid and scalene muscles. You could feel the rigid cords soften under your touch.

His breath hitched slightly, then released in a long, shuddering sigh. "I can feel my brain cells untangling," he murmured, a faint, sleepy smile playing on his lips even though his eyes were still closed. "It's like… my neck is actually connected to my body again."

Next were his arms. You worked down from his shoulders, kneading his biceps and triceps, feeling the lingering tightness from hours of gripping the steering wheel.

You paid special attention to his forearms, the powerful muscles that allowed for precise steering inputs. His hands, usually so expressive and animated, lay relaxed on the bed, fingers slightly curled.

You worked each one, gently stretching them, feeling the tiny bones shift. He barely stirred, completely absorbed in the sensation.

When you came back up to his shoulders, you gently rotated them, feeling the increased range of motion. "Okay," you whispered, "time to turn you over, very gently."

He made a soft, questioning sound, but didn't resist as you carefully guided him onto his back. His eyes fluttered open for a moment, glazed over with drowsiness, before drifting shut again.

You could see the subtle changes in his face: the lines of tension around his mouth had softened, his brow was smooth, and his breathing was deep and rhythmic.

You resumed your work, starting with his chest, gently massaging the pectoral muscles, which could also tighten from hours spent hunched over.

Then, you moved to his legs. These were the engine of his efforts: the powerful quadriceps and hamstrings that worked the pedals, the calves that endured for hours.

You poured more oil, repeating the long, warming strokes, then delving deeper.

"My quads," he mumbled, a soft plea. "They're… they're bricks."

You focused on them, feeling the dense, tired muscle. You knew his body, knew where the stress points were.

You massaged the vastus lateralis and medialis, pushing out the lactic acid, encouraging blood flow. He let out a series of small, contented grunts and sighs.

As you worked your way down to his calves, he shifted slightly, trying to get even more comfortable.

His eyelids were visibly fluttering now, sometimes staying open for a split second, revealing hazy, unfocused eyes before snapping shut again.

"Almost there, my love," you whispered, moving to his feet.

You gently cupped one of his feet in your hands, amazed at how relatively small they were for a man who commanded such a powerful machine.

You worked your thumbs into the arches, feeling the small, intricate bones and muscles that bore the brunt of his pedal work. You stretched each toe, then massaged the ball of his foot, the heel.

He let out a soft snore, a little puff of air against the pillow. His body, which had been gradually relaxing, now seemed to melt entirely. His hand, which had been resting by his side, twitched, then lay still.

The faint, tired smile had deepened into a peaceful, unburdened expression. The dark circles under his eyes seemed less prominent in the dim light, swallowed by the sheer relief.

You finished with his second foot, then gave his legs a final, gentle stroke upwards. You straightened up, feeling the slight ache in your own hands and back, but it was a good ache, a satisfying one.

You looked down at him. Lando Norris, the fearless, competitive F1 driver, was utterly, completely, irrevocably asleep.

His mouth was slightly parted, a soft, almost imperceptible snore escaping him. His chest rose and fell with the deep, even rhythm of true exhaustion-induced sleep.

He looked so young, so innocent, stripped of the pressure and the spotlight.

He was just your Lando, finally at rest.

You gently pulled a soft duvet over him, tucking it snugly around his shoulders.

You retrieved your warmed oil, cleaned up the towels, and blew out the candles, leaving the room illuminated only by the faint glow of the streetlights outside.

Then, very carefully, you slipped into bed beside him. He shifted slightly, a soft, sleepy mumble leaving his lips, and then, instinctively, his arm reached out, pulling you closer.

You snuggled into his side, feeling the warmth of his skin, the comforting weight of his arm around you.

You pressed a soft kiss to his temple, smelling the subtle remnants of the massage oil and his own clean scent.

You lay there for a long time, just listening to his breathing, savoring the quiet peace.

The satisfaction of knowing you had given him this much-needed reprieve, that you had helped him shed the weight of the triple-header, settled deep in your bones.

You felt his body warm and heavy beside you, completely relaxed in a way you hadn't seen in weeks.

Soon, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulled you, too, into a deep and peaceful sleep, your heart content that he was finally, truly, safe and rested in your arms. . . .

[gattyswriting]

what if i told you that lando had this picture set as his desktop background once? (from a 2021 interview)

[f1-the-real-housewives-of-monaco]

Notice how its World Mental Health Day but I’m getting anxious and upset coming across the most foul hate comments and delulu theories about my blorbo when *really* its not supposed to be this deep in the first place? Trophy for the hero of the race or whatever…

[norriszn]

stupid opinions don't shape a person's value. while the haters are busy with their keyboards, the people who actually know him, the people who work with him, his colleagues, his mechanics, his engineers—they respect and love him.

ABU DHABI GP 2019 | lando surprised perf engineer andrew jarvis with a helmet design ahead of his final race - nov 29th

oh no meee shoes

nside joke turned into something way more meaningful. jarv designed a pair of shoes for lando on powerpoint (no less!) and when lando opened them on his twitch stream, everyone who was there could see the emotion on his face as he realized the thought and effort behind the gift + jarv was there, screenshotting the whole thing and then he posted it on his ig

jarv was gone for 3 years and when he finally came back to mcl f1, lando managed to secure p2 at the singapore gp making it their first podium together.

there's always this weird echo chamber online, there's always that underlying assumption that just because ppl on twitter dot com hate on him, everyone else must be on the same page. well, the ones that matter are not on the hate train.

[cheriladycl01]

Those are mine, no? - Lando Norris x Reader Kinktober 2025

Plot: Lando Norris has always wanted to get your attention but he shouldn’t really do it by constantly coming into your hotel room just to get your panties.

Warnings: panty stealing, Lando desperate , sex smut, etc 18+ Minors DNI

Lando had always seen you as a challenge.

You were one of the engineers for McLaren and he’d always found you super attractive whether it was you in your loose team gear as you worked on his car or at the after party in a tight little dress with red lipstick on.

Whatever it was made him go crazy.

But the thing is you seemed unobtainable in his eyes as any kind of advance he made you immediately shut him down.

But he wanted you so badly, he’d never felt like this before about a person.

So he’d start to make stupid excuses to come into your hotel room. Like asking you questions about repairs on his or Oscars car, and the aerodynamics in it. He didn’t have a clue anything you were rattling off or understand anything you were showing him in your notes books. But you were so into explaining it to him that you did see when he took panties from both you clean case and dirty laundry pile in your hotel room en-suite while he excused himself to borrow your bathroom.

Where you were constantly travelling for work you just thought some of them were getting lost in the hotel laundry services which was a given because of the amount of odd socks you owned.

You never wouldn’t even imagined it was Lando.

Not until you found him with his cock wrapped round a pair of them as he moved his hand up and down so the soft cotton fabric of them was rubbing against his skin.

It was just a mere whim that you’d passed by his hotel room on. You weren’t even supposed to be on that floor but the ice dispenser on your floor had broken and you had wanted ice. So you’d taken the metal tin from your room all the way up to the next floor that had one which happened to be the floor Lando was staying on.

Then you’d just wandered past his room where the door was slightly ajar. As if he’d not such it properly on his way in, and that’s when you heard soft groans coming from inside.

You immediately panicked thinking that your driver was hurt and in some kind of immense pain before the weekend but as you’d burst through the door CPR and mouth-to-mouth ready all you saw was the brunette male hunched over himself looking down at his glistening cock that was wrapped in some kind of fabric.

“Oh my god” you say embarrassed before turning away and looking at the closet in the room.

Lando makes his eyes go wide before he grabs the sheet pulling it over him as much as possible to hide what he was doing.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks looking around his room, you take a testing glance back seeing he’s now covered up.

“Your door was open on a tilt and I heard what sounded like you were in immense pain not immense pleasure” you laugh out, not really knowing how to handle this experience.

In all honestly you’d always found Lando particularly charming. He was sweet and persistent and he was ever so loyal to the team that you could help but wonder if that was in all aspects of your life. You were sworn off dating in teams as your last relationship is what caused you to switch teams.

But seeing Lando, and his wide blown eyes and red cheeks of embarrassment you couldn’t help but feel bad for him.

“Oh my god I’m so embarrassed…” he groans and you laugh a little hoping to humour him and see if that makes him feel any better. But you notice the panties next to him, the ones that were in his hands.

They were yours.

How in the hell did he have your underwear?

“How-“ you start to gesture to the panties but he interrupts with a groan off embarrassment. He starts to try hide them under the quilt but it has you stalking forward at the speed of lightening taking them out of his hand.

They were damp and glistening with his precum but they were most definitely yours. The distinct cherry pattern on them. They were yours.

“Those are mine, no?” You ask him and he folds in on himself even more.

“Oh god this is just getting worse. Look it’s not as bad as it seems and I can explain” he offers and you cross your arms waiting for him to finish.

“You know I’ve always had the biggest crush in your and by chance I found them in the washing machine in the last hotel we were at and I planned to give them back to you this weekend when I would inevitably ask you about the car but … I just … I dunno they were there and they were so soft and argh god im so embarrassed” he cries his face falling into his hands.

“Hey it’s okay, I … I don’t mind you using them” you smile a little. Maybe trying something with Lando wouldn’t end the way your last relationship did, If it even had to end at all.

“Huh what?” He asks head shooting up in shock.

“I get it, they’re soft with a little lace on the outside that probably feels good right? But you know what might feel better? The real thing” you whisper in his ear leaning closer to him before pulling him into a kiss.

You slowly push him back on the mattress guiding the whole situation on your own. You pull his top off, before doing your own so it met his on the floor with a light thud. You show him your panties under your skirt and the groan that comes out of him had your panties soaked if they aren’t already.

You pull your panties to the side taking his dick in your hand before placing him at your entrance.

“Is this okay? You want this right?” You ask to double check and he gives you the most incredulous look ever. As if to say, are you fucking serious right now?

“Are you? Are you being serious?” Ah there it is.

“Yes, I have to make sure”

“Of course I do, I’ve dreamed of this” he moans as he feels the tip go in.

Already he was close to cumming and barely even the tip was in. You slowly sink down on him encasing him in your tight and wet warmth before slowly pulling back up and pushing down again.

You built up momentum quickly and you felt Lando gain the confidence to start joining your thrusts in and out the minute a string of moans and names left your lips he was done for. He came inside of you with a gasp and moan before hiding himself in the crook of your neck, shying away from you. But to his surprise only a few more thrust and a testing run of your clit from him and your joining him helping prolonging his orgasm with your own.

“I’m so sorry I came so early. You must think I’m awful” he says looking down.

“It’s okay, I enjoyed that. We’ll do this again yeah?” You smile before pulling him into bed with you, pulling the duvet over the pair of you as you cuddled into his side.

A wicked grin formed on his face that you wouldn’t be able to see.

God you were so oblivious.

You thought you did that all on your own. But boy you were so wrong. He left the door open on purpose. Stubbed his toe while jerking iff to make it sound more pained … he even broke the ice machine on your floor knowing you’d taken ice back to your room every night.

He didn’t find your panties in the laundry either he took them out of your open suitcase he was shocked you realised you hadn’t worn this pair.

And he’d have to hide all the others. Maybe he’d stuff one pair inside each other his helmets that are on display. Nobody would ever know but him.

And now he had you exactly where he wanted you.

It was all so perfect.

[formulafanfics13]

Hi, little love! 💕

First request, kinda nervous 🤭

Been craving some angst lately so...

Inconsolable Lando crying in reader's arm for whatever reason?

Unable to breath kinda sobs. With reader gently guiding his head to her chest and discovering that the sound of her heartbeat helps?

Thank youuuuu! 🩷

Inconsolable - LN4

Masterlist

Summary: Lando holds it together for everyone else, but when the weight becomes too much, he breaks down in your arms.

Warnings: angst, panic attack, sobbing, comfort, fluff

You’d never seen him like this. Lando always laughed things off, deflected, pushed his feelings behind a grin and a shrug. But tonight there was no hiding. He was folded on the floor by the side of your bed, his hands gripping at his hair, his chest heaving in sharp gasps.

“I can’t-” His voice cracked. “I can’t do this. I can’t breathe.”

Your heart broke. You dropped down beside him, sliding your arms around his shaking body. “Lan. Hey, hey. I’ve got you. Just breathe with me.”

But he couldn’t. His whole body convulsed with sobs. He clung to you like he was drowning, his tears soaking into your shirt. His face was buried against your chest, his words muffled. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I just- fuck-”

“Shh,” you whispered, stroking his curls, guiding his head so his ear was pressed flat against your chest. “Don’t talk. Just listen.”

At first he fought it, still choking on sobs, still clawing for air. But slowly, as your fingers carded through his hair, the steady beat of your heart bled through the chaos.

“There you go,” you murmured, voice low and steady. “Hear that? That’s me. I’m right here.”

His sobs hitched, still raw, but he pressed closer, desperate, his body curling into yours. Every ragged inhale lined up a little more with your rhythm, every exhale catching on your skin until gradually the storm softened.

“Good boy,” you whispered when he finally drew a fuller breath, your palm stroking down his back. “That’s it. Just stay with me. My heart’s not going anywhere.”

The room was silent except for his shaky breaths and the reassuring beat beneath his ear. You felt him relax, his shoulders easing. When he finally spoke, his voice was wrecked, hoarse. “It helps. You… your heartbeat. It helps.”

Your chest ached, but in the gentlest way. You kissed the top of his head, holding him tighter. “Then whenever it gets bad, you come to me. Always. You hear me? My heartbeat’s yours whenever you need it.”

Lando nodded against you, silent tears still wetting your skin, but calmer now, anchored. He didn’t let go, not for the rest of the night. And you didn’t make him.

[live-laugh-lando]

[landopics]

[raphoupix]

damn Lando 😮‍💨😮‍💨

[fuckandreastella]

Anybody ever notice how any time Lando does ANYTHING outside of the F1 paddock [and it doesn't even have to be something fun like this MotoGP thing, they've literally pulled this with Ralph Lauren sponsor events Lando is contractually obligated to attend] — the entire PRstri crew, from Mark Webber himself all the way down to the desperate fangirls, push one of two angles:

"iF NO BRITISH BIAS AND NO LANDO FAVORITISM, WHY OSCIE KOALASCIE NO INVITED" while completely ignoring the fact that oscar has had two and a half years to fix his personality and appearance to be more appealing to sponsors and has quite literally done nothing during that time

or

"OSCIE KOALASCIE IS WINNING BECAUSE HE WORKS HARDER THAN LANDO, HE ONLY WANT TO DRIVE CARS LIKE MAXIMILIAN, LANDO IS MORE INTERESTED IN BEING IN FRONT OF A CAMERA" while completely ignoring the fact that lando is an introvert who was forced out of his comfort zone by mclaren instead of coddled like oscar [which like. if you're unmarketable AND i'm unmarketable, how's the team going to stay funded?], and completely ignoring the fact that the only people who push this bullshit are Webber mouthpieces like Alan Jones who is clearly biased and struggled to win a championship even with contractually obligated first driver status AND Bernie Collins who even admitted when push came to shove that she was full of shit and had never worked with Norris before or even discussed his work ethic with anyone who had.