would you be able to do lando is always in control in the bedroom in smuty way and reader tried to convince him to be in control for once and you don't stop asking until he finally gives in and let's her be controlling and do whatever she wants for once, lando tries not to take over but he does without taking notice and reader becomes all pouty and all cause he took over
roles reverse
pairing: lando norris x f!reader
contains/warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, established relationship, sub/dom, top/bottom dynamics, basically just smut smut smut smut, lando needs to go to horny jail (reader too tbh)
summary: your boyfriend dominates you ALL the time. you try to reverse the roles, but it isn't as easy as you'd thought it would be, he loves to make you feel loved throughly a little too much.
word count: 4k~
! minors DNI !
masterlist
enjoy ;)
you were pinned and pressed firmly into the mattress, spread out on your stomach with your face smashed into the pillow as lando was fucking into you as if he would have never had you in his life, grunting and cursing under his breath after every thrust, fingers digging into your skin. it was the usual, but you loved it anyways.
lando was the dominant, the controlling one in the relationship, it was a fact ever since you've started dating. you've never had a problem with it, he always made you feel heavenly, and he was definitely, impossibly hot every time he fucked you like there's no tomorrow. you never complained, never ever tried to take over, he always guided you, even if you were giving him a handjob, or a blowjob, or you were on top riding him, he was always the one setting he pace, guiding your movements. the aftercare was always just as good as the sex itself. he was always sweet and attentive, letting you be as clingy as you needed to be. he always took really good care of you, so, really, you didn't have a reason to complain.
"fuck.. good girl" he breathed out as he finally pulled out of you, flopping down on the bed, pulling your sore body into his embrace, kissing the top of your head. "you okay?" he asked softly, brushing your damp hair out of your face and you nodded, eyes barely open, your head falling onto his chest.
as you woke up in the morning, you remembered him taking a bath with you last night, gently cleaning you up, then both of you falling asleep under the covers, tangled up.
you looked over to your side, finding lando still deep asleep, lips a little parted, those beautiful lashes, which you were jealous of, by the way, we're resting on his cheeks and he was breathing slowly, his arm lazy and barely there on your waist. he looked adorable and so vulnerable, nothing like the man who fucked you into another dimension last night, and it made you wonder. what if his persona didn't change in bed? what if he wouldn't start controlling you, wouldn't immediately start telling you what to do, or just start taking what he wants?
you have played with the thought a few times, changing roles maybe, him being in the same position as you, listening to your every word, obeying you.. but it was just a faint fantasy in your mind, at least at first. today was yet another day where you randomly imagined him maybe begging you to touch him, or him being overall submissive for you, because you have never experienced it before, and as the time passed, you started quietly wishing it would come true some day.. what if you tried? would he even let you take control over him at all? would he even like it at all? would he enjoy it or would he just act because he would not want to hurt you? well, you didnt know, but by now, you were certainly sure it was something you wanted, because youre not blind, youve seen the fan posts about him online. people posting pictures about him with captions describing a submissive man, but onlu if they knew how lando really was, they wouldnt post that stuff. because, again, lando was everything but someone who let others take over. you dint remember a single time where he wouldve said that he would like to try and let you be on top.. not just as of riding him, but actually setting the rules, because he was simply just a man who loved to turn you into a moaning, babbling puddle for himself. you were kind of sure that he didnt want to be in that position, and that he probably has never fantasized about it.
still, your brain could not escape the idea. you didnt want anything drastic, just a tiny bit of change, just to give you a tiny taste of something youve never tried, never experienced, the feeling of being in charge.
you were about to grab your phone and open your socials to check some of these very specific posts about lando and how he probably begs you to touch him on his knees, but he stirred, and with a gentle tug, he pulled you closer to himself.
"mornin', baby.." his voice was still raspy and thick with sleep, eyes barely opening as he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. you were a little frustrated from your earlier thoughts, so you just nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. he wrapped his arms around you, cuddling you up, kissing the top of your head, a hand slowly caressing your back. "how's my baby feelin' this morning, hm?" his voice was low and quite muffled as his lips were still on you. "..'m fine" you mumbled, lips dragging over his skin, mouthing at his neckm "you sure? didn't sound that convincing" his hand was wandering lower, gripping your thigh gently, hoisting it up and over his waist, then his hand found the curve if your ass and stayed there. "yeah.. still sleepy.." that's what you said, but it wasn't the truth. the truth was that now, you couldn't shake the thought out of your head. of him letting you do whatever to him, letting you stop him whenever and letting you tell him what to do-
"somethings up in that pretty head of yours.." he chuckled, then let go of you, rolling back onto his back, stretching his body. you watched him, eyes tracing the exposed abs tightening then relaxing again. you kind of wanted to touch him and ask him to just fuck you because that's the best you could start a day, but no. no, you didn't want him to fuck you like that. this time, you wanted to fuck him.. or whatever. you weren't even sure of what you wanted anymore.. "landoo.." you called out his name, propping yourself up on your elbow, looking at him with a small pout. "hm?" that was all, a hum from him, looking at you with lazy, still sleepy eyes. you decided not to say anything, just collected all your braveness in one breath and then reached out to grab onto his chin, tilting his head to face fully. his eyes widened just a little, pretty surprised at your behavior. "what?" he asked, but you still didn't answer, just leaned in and kissed him. you tried to make it as rough as possible from your side, pressing your lips firmly against his. he laughed. he literally laughed, and that made you pull back and glare at him. "why the fuck are you laughing now, huh?" you asked, raising your eyebrows. "nothing just.. what's up with you this morning, baby? you're acting weird." he shrugged, still chuckling under his breath and it annoyed you. you realized that this whole thing was harder than you'd thought, and you didn't even have the courage to straight up ask him for it, at least not yet. afterall, he never asked you to submit to him, you just kind of always did automatically, naturally. so, it was hard to try and change this out of nowhere.
"can you stop being cocky for just a second? no, I mean, stop!" you tried to sound and look as firm as possible, now sitting up. "woah okay, well, then tell me what you want, are you mad? or horny and mad? want me to make you feel better?" he was smirking now, and it was irritating you, you just wanted to wipe that smirk right off his face, but you didn't know how to even.. start being dominant, how do you even do that?
the whole day, you were brainstorming about how you should even being this up to him. maybe he would just laugh at your straight up say no. whatever, as you were in the living room, head in his lap and legs spread out on the couch, you decided it was time, and you didn't care about being too bold or not. you tossed your phone down next to yourself and then looked up at him. "lando!" you poked his chest and he looked down at you with a small smile, "hm? what's up?" he asked, a hand coming up to your hair, starting to play with it slowly. "have you ever thought about being like.. no, I mean, not being on top?" you cursed at yourself in your head for fucking up a single sentence, but you kept your cool, just looking at him with a neutral face. "what? like, you mean in bed?" he asked and you nodded, "yes, like, me being in control instead of you" you stated confidently, which made you a little proud of yourself.
"not really, I think we're fine without that" he chuckled as if it wouldn't have been an actually important question, raising his head back to pay his attention to the tv in front of him. you stared at him for a good few seconds, then lifted yourself, sitting up, sulking and not wanting to be draped over his lap anymore. "well, I think it would be nice!" you said rather confidently again, trying not to get too frustrated or stressed over this conversation, but your face was already flushed, and you probably looked cute instead of firm with your arms crossed and a possible pout on your lips. "c'mon baby, I think you're just bored, wanna do somethin'? want me to eat you out?" he gave you a playful wink as he finished his question and you just groaned, realizing that he probably thought you were just joking. you needed to try harder if you actually wanted it to happen, if you actually wanted to be on top.
the next few days left you with a constant headache, because it didn't matter how many times you mentioned it to him, he always joked it off. he laughed about it, told you that you're cute, then fucked you as always. it's not that you didn't enjoy it, you loved it madly, but you were stubborn and you wanted that one thing. you wanted to feel how it is to be the one in control. so, after several failed attempts of convincing him, you decided that the best time to bring it up would be exactly while you're both already naked and making out messily on top of the bed.
he was hovering over you, his firm, hard cock already pressing and teasingly dragging over your wet folds, making you let out tiny little moans in between kisses.
His hand is in your hair, tilting your head the way he wants so he can kiss you deeper, tongue fucking into your mouth like he is already imagining something else between your lips.
"fuck.." he mutters against your lips, rolling his hips forward slowly so the thick length of him drags through the slick mess between your thighs firmer, " 'm gonna open you up and wreck you properly, baby.."
you kiss him back just as sloppy, but when he starts to shift lower, mouth already trailing toward your chest, you catch his chin and pull him back up. "wait." he pauses, breathing hard, confused for a split second, "what?"
you swallow, heart hammering. you have brought it up before and he always laughed it off, teased, changed the topic with another filthy promise of hoe he's going to use you. tonight, youre both already naked, already dripping for it, and the words finally come out.
"i want to be in charge. just once. you've always.. every single time.. you take over. i want to touch you how I want, tell you what to do. please.." your voice was steady and sure, you were devoted this time.
lando goes still for a second. then, that slow, cocky little smirk pulls at his lips. "you serious?"
"dead serious. i've asked and you kept joking. i'm asking again now.." you were holding the eye contact. trying to look and sound as confident as possible.
he studied your face, eyes piercing, then huffed out a soft laugh, rolling onto his back, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "alrigh, fine, your turn, baby. show me what you've got." his voice was barely above a whisper, his tone almost challenging.
the second the word left his mouth, you moved. you quickly positioned yourself to straddle him, and pushed his wrists down against the mattress. he was bigger and so much stronger, but still, he let you. his cock was trapped between you, heavy and leaking, and the feel of it made your breath catch at the back of your throat.
"stay still" you tell him, "hands there. don't move them." you didn't look in his eyes, because you were sure that if you did, you would have folded for him right away.
"yes ma'am," he chuckled low, easy going, but his eyes stayed locked on you, especially your lips.
you leaned down to kiss him slow this time, deep, filthy, lots of tongue while you rolled your hips forward then back, dragging your wet cunt along the underside of his cock pressed against his stomach. he groaned into your mouth, hips twitching up, straining because he was not used to this at sll. having to wait, having to hold back, but he kept his hands where you put them, and he didn't try to rut up against you. at least not yet.
"look at you," you mumbled between nibbles on his bottom lip, "so fuckin' hard and i'm barely touching you.." you were using the same phrases and words which he always used with you, and it made him get a bit impatient. he loved to tease you, but he, in fact, did not like to get teased the same way.
you straightened up, reaching between your bodies, and wrapped your fingers around him. you stroke him once, slow, twisting over the head so your palm catches the precum and spreads it down the length of him.
his abs flexed as he sucked in a sharp breath, "fuck.. yeah, just like that-"
"quiet." you cut him off, and this time he actually listened, biting and gnawing on his own lip, watching you with heat and a flicker of amusement. he was enjoying it, you trying so hard to keep him under your control.
you rise up onto your knees, notch the swollen, blunt head of him against your entrance, and sink down just enough to take the tip. the stretch makes you both hiss. you don't drop all the way down, though. you stay there, rocking slowly, letting only the first couple of inches get pushed in and out while you watch his face. "i'm the one deciding how much you get now, lan.." you whisper softly, leaning in to press hot, open mouthed and wet kisses along his neck, up to his jawline. lando's hands curl into fists around the sheets, messing them up. "want more.." his words didn't sound like a plea, more like a warning, but you ignored it.
"good." you take him deeper, inch by inch, until he's fully sheathed and your ass is flush against his thighs. the pressure is perfect, thick, hot, filling you so completely that you need a second to process it. you plant your hands on his chest firmly, nails digging into his flushed, hot skin and start to ride him properly, slow rolls of your hips, grinding your needy clit against him on every downstroke, lifting until he's almost out and then sinking nack down with a wet sound that is music to his ears.
he's being so good, letting you set the pace, letting you use him, even though this is not at all what he craved right now. "you fill me up so well like this.. love feeling you so deep in me, baby.." you tell him, followed with a bite on his neck, right on his pulse point and he moans, causing you to clench down around him hard. you loved the sounds he made, how quickly they went from low groans to high whimpers.
"fuck, baby.. ride me harder, need to feel you better.." he curses, head tipped back against the pillows.
"i decide." you remind him and slow down even more, almost still, just tiny circles that make him twitch inside of you desperately.
that's when it starts to slip.
his hands leave the mattress. you feel them settle on your waist first, light, like he's just steadying you, but then his grip tightens. he start lifting you a fraction higher on the upstroke, and guiding you back down a little faster than you intended.
you notice, but you're so full and already so engulfed in pleasure that the correction feels good and you don't call him out on it just yet.
lando's breathing changes, heavier, and his hips begin meeting yours, small upward thrusts that drive him deeper. one of his hands slides up your spine, then into your hair, not yanking, but holding almost firmly. the next time you sink down, he holds you there with the strenth of his arm and suddenly grinds up hard, rubbing the head of his cock against your sweet spot. "there.. fuck, right there.." he mutters through gritted teeth, and it doesn't even sound like he's aware of what he's doing.
you try to claim the rhythm back. you push at his chest, try to lift yourself on your own terms, but now both of his hands on your hips are dictating the pace. without a word, he rolls you both so you're half on your side, half on your back, then he's over and on top of you again, still inside, fucking into you with short, deep strokes while his mouth finds your neck.
"lando-" you whine and try to squirm but he cuts you off. "shh.. just take it, you're so fuckin' wet for me, baby, need to fuck you well.." he nibbles on the sensitive skin of your neck and you have no choise but to stay still.
he's fully on top now, one of your wrists pinned above your head by his strong hand. his other one is under your knee, opening you wider so he can thrust deeper, harder. the wet slap of skin is louder than your ragged breathing, and he's getting rough. exactly the way he always is when he's decided how this is going to go.
you feel the shift land fully and something hot and frustrated twists in your chest. it feels good, sure, as always, but still, he took over when you have asked him not to.
"you said-" your voice comes out smaller than you wanted. "you said i could.."
he doesn't slow down, he just looks down at you, eyes hazy with lust, and seems genuinely confused for half a second. "hmm?" he's lost in the way your messy cunt is sucking him in, not really listening to what you were just saying.
"you were letting me.. be on top, remember?" you turn your face away to the side, bottom lip pushing out, not caring about how he's literally still thrusting into you with more and more force now.
he blinks, still buried deep, still moving in those restless, devastating strokes. then, he seems to actually register the pout on your fae and the way you've gone quiet. a low, breathless laugh escapes him, but he doesn't pull out. he just leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth, soft, even while his cock keeps dragging over that perfect spot inside of you. "shit, i did, didn't i?" he didn't sound too apologetic, though.
you refused to look at him, sulky and flushed and now so close that it hurt because no, you didn't want to cum like this.
"i was being good.." he says, almost wonderingly, like he only just noticed his hand is still pinning your wrist and his hips are still setting the pace. "tried to be.. then you started squeezin' me like that and i just..fuck", he rolls his hips slower, deliberate, watching your face now.
"you're pouting.." his voice drops, "while i'm balls deep in this perfect cunt and you're dripping down my cock and you're still pouting.." he let out a small chuckle in disbelief.
you stay quiet, lips pressed together, but your eyes glassy now.
lando groans softly and his forehead drops to yours. he realizes you're actually upset, and it frustrates him.
"okay,okay.. hands off." he releases your wrist, plants both palms on the mattress beside your head, and stills completely inside of you. the sudden lack of movement makes you automatically clench around him in protest, but that's just your body, you're actually glad he's noticing himself. "move however you want, baby. i'll stay still, promise." he said it with a small, reassuring smile.
you look up at him, still feeling grumpy, and you see how he looks wrecked already, straining. cheeks flushed, lips wet from licking over them too many times, and he puts so much effort into actually listening to you and holding back. "you better.." you mutter, "i will." he leans in and kisses the pout right off your lips, slow and wet. "until you cum on my cock, then all bets are off.." he flashes you a cheeky grin, then takes a deep breath and braces himself for what you're about to do.
you start to move under him, small rolls of your hips upward,letting the tip of his cock nudge your walls just the way you wanted it. he stays true to his word for at least a full minute, muscles locked, breathing hard, letting you take what you need, letting you enjoy yourself.
then, your cunt flutters hard around him and you let out the prettiest little moan with your eyes closed and head thrown back and his control over himself cracks again with a punched out groan.
"fuck, sorry, just a little.." his hips snap forward once, twice, deep and for him perfect, before he catches himself and freezes again, laughing shakily against your neck as his head drops down. "i'm trying, baby.. i really am, you just feel so fuckin' good, can't stop.. don't wanna.."
you don't bother with sulking or getting upset this time. by now, you're properly aching and your clit is all puffy and throbbing and at this point, you do want him to make you cry and then cum around him, so you just grab the back of his head with both hands, yanking him down, "fuck me then, don't hold back," and with that, you smash your lips against his in a messy, hurried kiss, and he doesn't need to be told twice. he picks up the speed immediately, gripping your hips hard, giving it all to you.
you figured that you have all the time in the world to fight with him for being on top, and you shouldn't expect him to be able to hold back right on the first time. afterall, he was pretty much addicted to fucking you and making you cum as many times as he could, fast and hard, and you loved it, so you had no reason to complain.
tonight, you let yourself fall apart under him, letting him take you apart then put your right back together. tomorrow, you can bring it up again, and then the next time, maybe you'll be able to get him submit to you. okay, maybe not tomorrow, but you were sure that one day, in the close future, it will happen.
he had all the potential to be the cutest bottom, after all.
Summary: Lando Norris was thirteen when she used to help him with his homework. Y/N was just three years older, but back then it felt like a lifetime. She was untouchable, his parents’ favorite, the girl who always left before he could find the courage to say more than “thanks.”
What he never told anyone, not even her, was that he had the softest, childlike crush on her. The kind that never really went away.
When she came back into his life, he’s 25. She's 28. They are both adults. The age gap doesn’t seem so impossible anymore, but nothing is simple. Especially not when his older brother is suddenly in the picture too.
Genre : angst and fluff
World count : 8,4k
Series Masterlist
Author note : First part of this new series, hope you will like it :) This one is for forgetting the result of the Las Vegas race and the disqualifying of both papaya cars...
Age 13 & 16 :
Lando was sulking at his kitchen table, his arms were folded over his chest, chin tucked into his hoodie, eyes fixed on the math workbook in front of him like it had personally offended him. The numbers swam. The pencil felt heavy. His trophy from the weekend still sat on the sideboard behind him, gleaming in the late afternoon light.
He’d rather be with that than with fractions.
Lando had won the world championship in karting and still couldn’t sit still for ten seconds.
He bounced his leg under the kitchen table hard enough to make the pencil vibrate. The workbook in front of him lay open on a page of fractions he’d already decided he hated, numbers blurring together into one long, smug line.
“Lando, stop kicking,” Cisca, his mom, said from the stove, not even turning around. “You’re shaking the whole table.”
“I’m not,” he muttered automatically, even as he dragged his heel back under his chair.
“You are,” she replied. “And we’ve been over this page three times.”
“I don’t get it,” he snapped, quieter than he wanted. “It’s stupid.”
She sighed, tired in a way he recognised lately. “The fractions aren’t stupid. You’re tired. You’ve had a long week. We’ll wait for Y/N and then try again, okay?”
His chest pulled tight.
He pretended to flick dust from the corner of his worksheet. “She’s really coming?”
“Yes, she’s really coming.” Now she did turn around, wiping her hands on a towel. “She finished her own classes and said she’d be here by four.”
“It’s already four,” he pointed out.
“It’s three fifty-eight.”
“Same thing.”
She gave him a look that said don’t start and he dropped his eyes back to the page.
In his head, he tried to remember the last time he’d seen Y/N properly.
She used to live a few houses down. Used to babysit his younger sisters sometimes. Once or twice, she’d been the one to walk him home when he was younger and scraped his knee or had to leave the park early. He remembered her voice more than anything, teasing but not mean, soft when he cried, never talking to him like he was five.
Then everything had gotten busier.
Karting, flights, races, tutoring that didn’t stick, online classes he ignored. His parents had started snapping at each other more, his sisters get older, Oliver gone most of the time. The house felt full and crowded and somehow still like no one had time to sit at the table with him and make the numbers make sense.
So they’d called her.
The doorbell rang and Lando’s leg stopped bouncing on its own.
“I’ll get it,” Cisca said, smoothing her hair as she left the kitchen.
He heard the door open. Voices in the hallway.
“Hi, Mrs Norris.”
Her voice was the same. Older, maybe, but the same.
“Y/N! Come in, darling. Shoes off, you know the rules.”
There was a small laugh. “Wouldn’t dare break them.”
Lando stared so hard at his workbook his eyes hurt.
He heard footsteps, then she appeared in the doorway.
The first thing he noticed was that she looked… taller. It confused him for a second. Her school blazer hung open over her shirt, her tie was already loosened like she’d yanked it down the second she left the building. Her bag strap dug into her shoulder, heavy with books. Her hair was pulled back, but pieces had escaped to frame her face. There was blue ink smudged along the side of her hand.
She smiled when she saw him, easy and bright.
“Hey Lando,” she said.
His cheeks burned. “Hi.”
Cisca clapped her hands lightly. “Thank you for coming, really. He’s been… a handful.”
“I’m not,” Lando muttered.
“You are,” she and his mum said at the same time, and to his horror, Y/N grinned.
“It’s fine,” she replied. “I’ve survived worse. Year elevens are feral.”
She walked over and dropped her bag on the chair beside him, not across from him like a teacher would. Already different.
“Okay,” she said, sliding into the seat and pulling his workbook closer. “What are we looking at?”
“Fractions,” his mum said dramatically, like she was announcing a villain. “He hates them.”
“Hate is a strong word,” Y/N said.
“I hate them,” Lando confirmed.
She snorted. “Alright then. Challenge accepted.”
Cisca placed a plate of biscuits on the table. “I’ll leave you to it. Lando, be nice. Y/N, if he gives you trouble, you have my permission to throw a biscuit at him.”
“Got it,” Y/N said, saluting.
When his mum left, the kitchen went quieter. Lando stared at the underlines in his workbook, feeling suddenly very aware of his own breathing.
“So,” Y/N said, leaning on her elbows. “How much do you actually understand here, and how much are you pretending not to?”
He blinked. “I’m not pretending.”
“Okay,” she said easily. “Then show me where it stops making sense. I’m not gonna tell your mum if it’s everything.”
No one had said that to him before. Every other adult had a tone: disappointed, impatient, too bright. Y/N just sounded like… someone older talking to someone slightly younger. Not a small child. Not a problem.
He pointed at the middle of the page, heat creeping up his neck. “Here. When they start doing… that thing. With… the lines. And the numbers change.”
“The thing with the lines. Very technical,” she said, mouth twitching. “Alright. So you get this part?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“What do you get about it?”
He hesitated. “You, like… make the bottom numbers match?”
“There we go,” she said. “See? Not hopeless.”
He blinked again.
She pulled his workbook toward her and tore a sheet of paper from her own notebook, rewriting the first problem in bigger, clearer numbers.
“These books suck,” she said. “Everything’s tiny. No one’s brain wants to look at that after a race weekend.”
“Everyone says I’m just lazy,” he muttered.
“Well, everyone’s wrong,” she said simply. “You’re tired. And you’ve got a lot going on. So we make it easier to look at first, yeah?”
He nodded before he could stop himself.
They went through the question slowly. She didn’t rush him. Every time he answered, she let him finish instead of finishing the sentence for him. When he got something wrong, she didn’t sigh or tell him to “focus”; she just circled it and said, “Okay, cool, now tell me what you were thinking here.”
Sometimes she swore under her breath at the layout of the book. It made him snort, then pretend he hadn’t.
He caught himself watching the way she chewed the inside of her cheek when she was concentrating. The way her handwriting slanted slightly up at the end of words. The pen twirling between her fingers when she waited for him to answer.
It wasn’t like the boys at karting talked about girls. They talked about engines, about corners, about who’d crashed in the dumbest way that weekend. Girls were just… there. Sisters, cousins, people in the background.
Y/N didn’t feel like that.
By the time Cisca peeked back in, they were both hunched over the workbook, Y/N drawing little kart track diagrams in the margins to explain common denominators.
“So this is your lap,” she was saying. “And this is the other guy’s lap. You wanna be on the same bit of track to compare times, yeah? So you line them up. That’s all you’re doing with the fractions.”
“Ohhh,” Lando muttered, the penny finally dropping. “Why didn’t they just say that?”
Cisca’s eyes widened a little. “You’re still working? I thought he’d have given up by now.”
Y/N leaned back, stretching her arms above her head. “He’s killing it. We’re making peace with the fractions.”
Cisca smiled, a little surprised. “Well… that’s more than we got out of you yesterday.”
Lando shrugged, suddenly shy under both their gazes. “It’s… not that bad.”
“High praise,” Y/N said, grinning.
They wrapped up not long after. Y/N closed his workbook with a little thump and pushed it toward him. “You did good, Norris.”
He picked at the edge of the cover. “It’s just maths.”
“It’s also focus,” she said. “You were here the whole time. That’s harder.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. His chest felt weird again. Tight but not in a bad way.
Y/N slung her bag over her shoulder. “Alright, I’ve gotta go finish my own homework before my mum hunts me down. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” he repeated.
She looked at Cisca. “Same time okay with you?”
“Yes, please,” Cisca said immediately. “If you’re sure you don’t mind. We can pay a bit more if...”
“It’s fine,” Y/N cut in. “I like it. He’s… fun.”
Lando’s ears burned.
She turned back to him. “You okay with another round tomorrow? Or have I traumatised you too much already?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s… it’s fine. You can… come back. If you want.”
“I will then,” she said simply. “See you, champ.”
He watched her leave. Listened to the door click shut. The house seemed quieter, but not as heavy as usual. The numbers on the page didn’t look like a foreign language anymore, just a language he hadn’t fully learned yet.
Cisca started stacking plates in the sink. “So? What did you think?”
He pretended to shrug, heart beating a little faster. “She’s… okay.”
“Just okay?” his mum asked, amused.
He hesitated. “She… doesn’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”
Something in her face softened. “You’re not stupid.”
“I know,” he said quickly, because he did know… mostly. “She just… she’s different. She’s… cool.”
Cisca dried her hands. “Well, if it works, it works. We’ll see how long we can keep this going. She has her own exams, you know.”
Lando nodded, trying not to look as disappointed as he felt at the idea of that ending.
He looked at the workbook again. At the neat numbers, the stupid track drawings in the margins.
“Can we do maths again tomorrow?” he asked suddenly.
His mum paused. “Maths?”
“Yeah.” He tried to sound casual. “If she’s coming anyway, we should do more. Before I forget.”
Cisca actually laughed. “Who are you and what have you done with my son?”
He rolled his eyes and reached for his pencil, but inside, something uncurled slightly.
He was still too young to care about girls the way Oliver did. He didn’t have posters of anyone on his wall except drivers and cars. But he knew he liked the way Y/N talked to him. The way she made his brain feel less wrong. The way the afternoon didn’t drag when she was there.
He didn’t have a word for it yet.
He just knew that for the first time, he was actually looking forward to a maths lesson.
Age 15 & 18 :
Sunday night smelled like takeout and rain.
The race was still in his bones, engine noise echoing in his ears, phantom vibration buzzing under his skin, but the house was quiet in that post-weekend way. His suit was dumped somewhere in his room, his bag half-unpacked. His trophy for P2 sat on the sideboard next to the old karting ones, a newer, sleeker shape.
Lando sat at the dining table in a hoodie and joggers, knees bouncing, staring at the laptop screen that refused to make sense.
Physics worksheet. Email from his online tutor. A list of assignments he was technically meant to finish before next Friday, which was hilarious considering he’d be on a plane by Wednesday and hadn’t even unpacked from this trip yet.
He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep,” his mum warned from the kitchen. “She’s coming straight from school as it is.”
“I’m not sleeping,” he muttered.
“You look like you’re sleeping.”
“I’m reading,” he said, squinting harder at the screen. The words still blurred.
He wasn’t sure this counted as reading.
He heard the front door open. Voices. The familiar shuffle of shoes.
“Hi, Mrs Norris. Sorry, bus was a nightmare.”
His chest did that stupid little pull it always did now.
“In the dining room,” Cisca called.
Y/N appeared in the doorway a second later, hair damp from the drizzle outside, blazer unbuttoned, tie hanging loose around her neck. Her school bag looked even heavier than usual, a tube for drawings slung over her shoulder, sketchbook tucked under one arm.
“Wow,” she said, dropping her bag on a chair. “Look at Mr F3, pretending he does homework.”
He tried not to smile. Failed. “I do do homework.”
“Sure you do,” she said, shrugging off her blazer. “Between flights and podiums and photoshoots.”
He looked away quickly so she wouldn’t see the way his ears went hot when she said it like that. Mr F3. Like it meant something.
“Hi,” he said, because his brain suddenly couldn’t come up with anything else.
“Hi,” she echoed, smiling, and that stupid little pull in his chest got worse.
She rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, revealing ink-smudged wrists and a thin bracelet he’d never seen before. He caught himself staring at it, wondering who’d given it to her, and snapped his gaze back to the laptop.
“So,” she said, dropping into the chair beside him, not across from him. Always beside. “What’s on the menu? Physics? English? Existential dread?”
“Physics,” he muttered. “And… the last one.”
She snorted. “Relatable.”
His mum drifted in with a mug of tea and a plate of leftover noodles. “Here,” she said, setting them down. “Food. Tea. Y/N, you’re an angel. If he were in normal school, I think they’d have expelled him by now.”
“I’m very charming,” Lando protested, even as he dug his fork into the noodles.
She laughed, and the sound nudged something warm under his ribs.
It was… weird.
Now she was eighteen, in her last year of highschool, buried in university applications and portfolios. He was fifteen, in F3, his life a blur of flights and simulators and interviews and tutors he never saw twice.
They still ended up here, though. Sunday nights in his dining room, bleary from travel and school, trying to cram a week’s worth of schoolwork into a couple of hours before the next race swallowed him again.
She leaned in, shoulder brushing his as she pointed at the diagram on the screen. “So. You’ve got your angle, your initial velocity. What do you do first?”
He tried to focus on the problem. Really, he did. Not on how close she was. Not on the faint smell of her shampoo, something citrusy and clean. Not on the way her hair had slipped from its ponytail and a strand was resting against his arm.
“Um,” he said intelligently. “You… split it? Into… up and sideways?”
“Components, yeah,” she said. “See? Your brain is intact.”
He worked through the question, mumbling the steps. She didn’t interrupt. Just waited. When he messed up, she didn’t sigh, just nudged him back.
“Check your units,” she said at one point, tapping the screen.
“What?” he asked, blinking.
“You switched from metres per second to kilometres per hour halfway through,” she said.
He groaned. “Stupid.”
“Not stupid,” she corrected, voice firm. “Just tired. You’ve been going since, what, six this morning?”
“Five,” he corrected. “Call time.”
“Exactly,” she said. “Meanwhile, I’ve been staring at my personal statement for so long I’m starting to hate the word ‘architecture.’ We’re allowed to mess up units.”
He snorted. “You’d still get it right.”
“You’re annoying,” she said, poking his arm. “How many times do I have to tell you, you’re not dumb. You just learn fast, and school likes slow.”
He ducked his head, fighting a smile he didn’t want her to see. It felt… too vulnerable.
Something had shifted in the last year.
He’d noticed it first when she’d come over one evening in a dress instead of her usual hoodie and jeans, some school thing she was going to later. His brain had short-circuited so hard he’d forgotten the difference between sine and cosine for a full ten minutes.
Then he’d started noticing everything. The way she tugged at the cuffs of her sleeves when she was nervous. The soft crease that appeared between her brows when she talked about her future like she didn’t quite believe she’d get there. The way her laugh sounded different when it was for him versus when it was for his sisters or his mum.
He’d catch himself staring, eyes lingering a little too long on the curve of her smile, the slope of her neck, the ink stains on her fingers. His gaze clung, heavy, and he’d have to yank it back.
He hated it. And he loved it. And he hated that he loved it.
Because she still treated him like a kid.
“Your hair’s getting long,” she said idly now, mid-question, reaching over to ruffle his curls without warning.
He jolted. “Oi.”
“What?” she asked, amused. “It suits you. You look less like a baby bird.”
“I was never a baby bird.”
“You kind of were,” she said, eyes sparkling. “Big eyes. Messy hair. Constantly falling over.”
“I fall over in a race car,” he said. “It’s different.”
“Sure, sure.” She ruffled again, gentler. “You’re cute, deal with it.”
He swatted her hand away, but his heart was pounding embarrassingly hard.
Cute.
He didn’t want to be cute.
He wanted… he didn’t even know. Something that didn’t make her voice tilt like she was talking about a puppy.
He dragged his attention back to the laptop. “So if it lands after three seconds, then the height is…”
They worked through another set. Time blurred. The clock crept past ten, then ten thirty. The house got quieter. His sisters disappeared upstairs, his mum’s footsteps faded, even Oliver’s music turned down.
He forced his eyes back to the notebook, but her laugh slid under his skin, warm and familiar.
Halfway through the session, her phone buzzed, she ignored it at first, but it kept going.
“Someone’s desperate,” Lando said, trying to sound like he didn’t care.
She huffed and checked it. The corner of her mouth twitched.
“Who is it?” he asked, casual. Too casual.
“Just… Tom,” she said.
“Tom who?” he pressed.
“Boy from school,” she replied. “We’re, uh, going to prom together. Maybe. I don’t know.”
Something sharp and stupid flared in his chest.
“Oh.” He tried to make his voice flat. “Cool.”
“He’s not that cool,” she said quickly. “He just… keeps asking what colour my dress is gonna be so he can match his tie. Which is… sweet? Maybe? I don’t know. Feels weird.”
Lando picked at a crumb on the table. “You’re going with him, though?”
She shrugged, cheeks pink. “I guess. It’s just prom. Not that deep.”
It felt deep. He didn’t know why. He’d never been to a prom. He didn’t even go to normal school anymore. But the idea of her dressed up, dancing with some guy called Tom who got to be there just because he sat in the same classroom as her every day...He shoved that thought away.
“You’d look nice,” he muttered.
She looked up. “What?”
“In… whatever dress,” he said, ears burning. “You’d look nice.”
Her face softened. “That’s sweet, Lando.”
He pretended to be fascinated by his pencil.
“Anyway,” she said, clearing her throat. “Enough about my weird almost-prom. Back to you. Racing going okay?”
He shrugged, grateful for the subject change. “Yeah. I mean. I won last weekend.”
“I saw,” she said. “Your mum sent me the livestream link. You were amazing.”
He tried not to glow under the praise. “I had a good kart.”
“You had good lines,” she corrected. “You always see where to go before everyone else does.”
They ended up on the floor in the living room, sitcom reruns playing in the background while she scribbled building facades in the margin of her notebook and he half-watched, half-listened as she talked about cities she wanted to visit.
“Barcelona,” she said dreamily. “The architecture there… Gaudí… it’s like the whole place is a sketchbook that came to life.”
“You should go,” he said.
“Maybe one day,” she replied. “If I get into the uni I want.”
“You will,” he said, too certain.
She raised an eyebrow. “How do you know?”
“You just… will,” he said, shrugging. “You always see the whole picture. Not just what something is. What it could be.”
She stared at him for a second, something unreadable in her eyes.
Then she smiled, soft. “Thanks.”
He pretended it didn’t make his heart sprint faster than it did on the longest straights.
That night, when she left, he walked her to the door without being asked.
“You’ll… come next week?” he asked, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.
“If you still wants me,” she teased.
“I do,” he blurted, then immediately looked away. “I mean. For… homework. And stuff.”
She bit back a grin. “I’ll be here. Don’t worry.”
He watched her walk down the path, backpack bouncing against her hip, phone lighting up in her hand.
He tried not to think about Tom. And prom. And ties matching dresses.
He didn’t have a name for the twisting feeling in his chest yet.
He only knew that when she was here, everything made more sense.
And when she was gone, it didn’t.
Age 18 & 21 :
By eighteen, Lando had everything he’d ever said he wanted.
Almost.
The email from McLaren was still open on his laptop, the orange logo staring back at him like it knew how badly his hands were shaking.
We’re delighted to confirm your position as reserve driver…
He didn’t read the rest again. He’d already memorised it. The words blurred now, not from speed but from the thousandth reread.
Reserve driver.
McLaren.
He was in.
“Lando!” his mum called from downstairs. “Have you told your grandparents yet?”
“In a minute!” he shouted back, though his voice cracked halfway through.
His phone buzzed non-stop: team notifications, mentions, texts from drivers, emojis from friends, a voice note from Max that just sounded like screaming. He ignored most of it, thumb hovering over one chat that had been dead for months.
Y/N.
Their last messages were buried under everyone else’s. A reaction to a race result. A “Proud of you, kid” she’d sent after he’d won a race. A picture she’d sent once of a building model she’d made, asking, Does this look stupid or kind of cool? and he’d replied Very cool. Obviously.
Nothing recent.
He locked his phone and shut the laptop, heart pounding. He should go downstairs. Celebrate. Be the son his parents had pushed and sacrificed for, the success story everyone kept saying he was.
Instead he sat on the edge of his bed for a second, breathing.
Reserve driver. Probably F1 next year. Full-time racing driver. No more online school, no more tutors, no more “balancing.”
No more excuses.
No more homework.
No more Y/N.
The thought dropped into his chest like a stone.
They’d already drifted. It hadn’t been sudden; it was worse than that. Slow. Gradual. She’d moved to London for uni, just like she’d said she would. First year had been chaos for her: new city, studio projects, late nights. His racing calendar had swallowed him whole with F3, then more testing, more travel, more everything.
Sunday lessons had become Sunday calls. Then Sunday texts. Then just… sometimes. When they both remembered. When one of them wasn’t exhausted or in another time zone.
He’d told himself it was normal. People grow up. Lives split off, like branching lines on a track map.
Still, every now and then in hotel rooms at midnight, in long flights staring at nothing, he’d think of her. Of the way she’d scribbled formulas next to little racetrack doodles. Of her laugh echoing off his kitchen walls. Of her hand in his hair, messing it up like he was something small and breakable.
He still heard her voice in his head sometimes. You’re not dumb. School just likes slow.
She was twenty-one. At uni. In London. Designing impossible buildings and going out with friends and doing all the grown-up city things he only saw on Instagram.
It was stupid, to miss something that never really existed. But it still hurt.
His eighteenth birthday crept up on him in a blur of simulator sessions and press things and people asking if he felt different yet.
He didn’t.
He felt… tired. Busy. Like his whole life was about to turn up a notch and no one had given him the manual.
“Big eighteen,” Oliver said, clapping him on the back one night. “We doing anything? Or are you going to celebrate with a protein shake and an early night?”
“Funny,” Lando said. “I was thinking house party.”
Oliver blinked. “Here?”
“Yeah. Mum and Dad said they’d go to some friends’ place,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Like, give us the house for the night. As long as we don’t burn it down.”
Oliver’s grin turned feral. “My little brother, throwing a proper party. I’m so proud.”
“Don’t be weird about it.”
“I’m going to be very weird about it.”
Somewhere in the middle of planning: group chats exploding, someone making a playlist, people talking about turning the living room into a dance floor and the garden into a smoking area, someone mentioned alcohol.
“Obviously we’ll have drinks,” one of his mates said. “You’re eighteen, mate. Legal now. It’s basically mandatory.”
He pretended not to hesitate.
They got beer. Some cheap vodka. Someone’s older brother promised to bring something stronger. Girls from his old school were added to the invite list, people who’d never really talked to him before he started showing up on TV, now suddenly sliding into his DMs with, Heard you’re doing F1 stuff, that’s sick.
It made his stomach twist, but he didn’t stop it.
Being a racing driver helped with girls, apparently. Even if the confidence part of his brain hadn’t quite caught up.
Late one night, while Oliver argued with someone about playlists over the phone, Lando lay on his bed, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the search bar.
He typed her name.
It popped up after three letters.
Her profile picture was different now. Not the one he remembered from before. This one was at night, fairy lights blurred in the background, her in a black dress, shoulder bare, eyes crinkled mid-laugh, mouth open like someone had just said the funniest thing.
Still, his thumb hovered over the message button for a long time.
He could not message her. That was an option. Let the memory sit where it was: old notebooks, pizza cut into squares, Sunday nights that had faded into something hazy and warm.
Or he could.
He opened the chat before he could talk himself out of it.
Hey Y/N :)
Long time no see like properly. Hope London hasn’t eaten you alive.
It’s my 18th next Saturday & I’m doing a thing at my parents’ place – just some friends & stuff. Would be cool if you came by, if you’re around.
Also I, uh, became reserve driver for McLaren so… yeah. That’s a thing.
Hope you’re good
He hit send before he could change his mind.
Immediately, he wanted to throw his phone out the window.
He set it face down on his chest and tried to think about literally anything else. Tyre compounds. Setup changes. Snake. The ceiling.
The buzz came sooner than he expected.
He snatched the phone up so fast he nearly dropped it.
Y/N: Landoooo no way 🧡 that’s amazing, congrats!! Proud of you doesn’t even cover it
His lungs started working again.
Another bubble appeared.
Y/N: 18 already wtf, you were like 13 yesterday. Time is fake
He rolled his eyes, grinning despite himself.
Y/N: I’m probably going to be in London that weekend, deadlines are murdering me slowly BUT if I can escape for a bit I’ll swing by, okay? No promises, I suck.
If I don’t make it, happy early birthday you menace 🎂 and congrats again on McLaren. You’re smashing it.
He read the message three times. Four.
Probably busy. No promises.
He typed back:
All good, I get it. Uni stuff sounds brutal. Would be cool to see you though :)
He hovered over send, then tapped it. This time, no reply came back straight away.
The next day, his chat with her had slid down the list again, buried under planning and memes and someone sending a screenshot of a truly horrifying amount of alcohol.
The night of his birthday party, the house looked almost unrecognisable.
Furniture pushed back. Fairy lights strung along curtain rails. A Bluetooth speaker that definitely wasn’t theirs thumping bass through the walls. The kitchen counters lined with bottles and mixers, red cups stacked next to the sink.
“Remember,” his mum said, giving him The Look before leaving. “No broken bones. No broken furniture. No calls from the neighbours.”
“We trust you,” his dad added. “Sort of.”
“Thanks,” Lando said dryly.
“Happy birthday, baby,” Cisca said, pulling him into a quick hug. “We’re proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
“And if you’re sick, aim for the toilet,” she whispered.
“Mum.”
Then they were gone, the car pulling out of the driveway, leaving him standing in his own house that suddenly didn’t feel like his.
“THIS IS GONNA BE SICK,” one of his mates yelled, barging past him with a bag of ice.
It started slow. A few people trickled in, mates from karting, neighbours, Oliver’s friends. Someone started the playlist. Someone else started pouring. The house filled with voices and music and the sweet-sour smell of fruity alcohol.
Some he recognised from old school days, others from friends-of-friends.
“Happy birthday, Norris,” one of the girls that he barely knows said, fingers curling around his wrist for a second. “Heard you’re big time now.”
He laughed it off, ducking his head. “Something like that.”
He tried to be present. To enjoy it. To be the version of himself everyone expected, fun, cocky, the kid living his dream.
But every time the front door opened, his head snapped toward it.
It was never her.
He told himself she wouldn’t come before midnight. She’d have stuff to finish. Uni deadlines. Night buses. London things.
He checked his phone secretly in the kitchen every half hour. No new messages from her.
At some point, someone shoved a drink into his hand and pushed him toward the living room.
“You gotta do a speech!” a mate shouted.
“I really don’t,” Lando said.
He ended up on the coffee table anyway, Oliver hyping him up in the background, everyone cheering when he muttered something about being grateful and not remembering any of this tomorrow.
He laughed. Played along. Took stupid photos. Let people sling arms around his shoulders and yell happy birthday in his ear.
There was a girl who stuck close, a blonde from his old school. She laughed at his jokes and asked him about racing and touched his arm a lot. Eventually they ended up in the hallway, half-shouting over the music.
“It’s so cool what you do,” she said, eyes bright. “You’re like, actually famous now.”
“Not really,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.
“Come on,” she said, stepping closer. “McLaren? That’s huge.”
He smiled, but it felt thin. “Yeah. It’s… good.”
She tilted her head. “You okay? You seem… I don’t know. Distracted.”
He glanced toward the door without meaning to.
“Just tired,” he lied. “Long week.”
“If you want to, like, sneak off for a bit,” she said, lowering her voice. “We can… you know. Get somewher more quiet.”
He blinked at her.
She was pretty. Nice. His age. Interested.
A few years ago, he’d have combusted on the spot at the idea. Maybe he still would, another day.
But right now, his brain just… stalled.
He pulled a smile. “Maybe later. Need to make sure no one burns the place down first.”
She laughed, flicking his arm. “You’re such kid.”
She drifted back toward the crowd, and he let her go.
Time blurred. Midnight ticked past. People sang an uncoordinated version of “Happy Birthday.” Someone smeared cake on his face. Someone else filmed it. He played beer pong and lost disastrously. He drank more than he meant to and less than everyone expected.
Every time the door opened, he still looked.
Every time, his chest fell a little more.
By two in the morning, some people had gone, taxis called, lifts arranged. Others were half-asleep on couches or in corners, music turned down to appease the neighbours. Oliver was arguing gently with someone about not throwing up in the kitchen sink.
Lando slipped out the back door into the garden.
The cold hit him immediately, sharp against his overheated skin. He sucked in a breath and sat down on the back step, hoodie pulled over his head.
The faint thump of music carried through the walls. Someone laughed. A door banged. The world felt fuzzy at the edges.
He unlocked his phone.
No new messages from her.
She was probably out somewhere in London. Or asleep, exhausted from work. Or curled up on some couch with friends, or with her boyfriend, because of course she had one by now, some tall art guy who knew about buildings and wine and didn’t have to fly to different countries every week.
He was just… him.
Still the kid she’d once walked home with a scraped knee. The one who’d cried over maths and followed her around the house. The one she’d ruffled and called cute.
Eighteen was technically an adult on paper. But for her?
He doubted it meant much.
He tipped his head back against the door, closing his eyes.
He’d done it. The thing they’d talked about in half-finished sentences over worksheets and pizza squares. McLaren. Reserve driver. F1 within reach.
He should’ve been thinking about that. About the cars and the tracks and the fact that his life was about to become something even crazier than it already was.
Instead, all he could think about was a girl three years older who hadn’t been in his kitchen in years, who’d maybe thought about coming tonight and then… didn’t.
The back door creaked behind him.
“You hiding out here?” Oliver’s voice asked.
Lando cracked an eye open. “Just… getting air.”
Oliver dropped down onto the step beside him with a soft grunt. “Good party.”
“Yeah.”
“You okay?” his brother asked after a beat.
“Fine.”
“You sure? You’ve got your moody face on.”
“This is just my face,” Lando muttered.
Oliver snorted. “Right.”
They sat in silence for a minute, breath fogging in the cold.
“You did it, you know,” Oliver said eventually.
“Yeah,” Lando said quietly.
“You don’t sound very excited.”
“I am,” he insisted. It was true. Somewhere under everything, the excitement hummed, constant and bright. “Just… tired.”
Oliver hummed.
Lando didn’t mention her. Or the way his brain kept replaying old scenes like someone stuck on a highlight reel.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew how this looked.
A boy on the edge of the thing he’d always wanted. Clinging to a crush on someone who’d already run ahead into a different life.
He hadn’t seen her in person in… what, a year?
He’d thought, stupidly, that tonight might reset something. That her walking into his house again, him eighteen now, might shift the way she saw him, even a little.
It hadn’t happened.
He locked his phone and shoved it into his pocket.
“Come back in when you’re done brooding,” Oliver said, standing. “Before you freeze to death and Mum blames me.”
Lando huffed. “I’m not brooding.”
“You’re absolutely brooding.” Oliver ruffled his hair on the way back inside. “Happy birthday, idiot.”
The door clicked shut.
Lando sat there a moment longer, the cold seeping through his jeans, stars faint behind the thin layer of clouds.
Then he pulled in a breath, pushed the thoughts down where he kept old race results and half-forgotten lap times, and stood.
Inside, the music picked up again.
He squared his shoulders, plastered on the easy grin he’d been practising for cameras, and went back into the party.
He had his dream lined up in front of him.
That would have to be enough.
25 & 28 :
Lando had always imagined what it’d be like to see Y/N again.
Not in a dreamy, still-a-kid kind of way, but in that vague, persistent daydream he got sometimes when he couldn’t sleep. The Y/N he remembered was warm, familiar. Always a little ahead of him. Always looking back to make sure he kept up.
But he hadn’t expected this.
Y/N was standing in the hallway, chatting with his mum like no time had passed, like she wasn’t the exact ghost he kept trying to outgrow.
Her hair was longer now, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Her smile, still bright, still her, came easier somehow. Like she didn’t second-guess it as much anymore. The confidence in her posture, in her laugh, it was new. Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed before.
“Lando,” his mum called, “look who showed up.”
Y/N turned.
He froze.
“…Hi,” she said, a little too quiet.
“Hey,” he replied, voice lower now. Scratchier. A little hoarse.
She blinked. He had a beard now.
Not a full one, just enough to notice. His jaw was sharper. His curls longer. He looked older, yes. But also more tired, somehow. Like he’d lived a whole life she hadn’t seen.
“Really?” she asked, half-teasing. “I feel like I look exactly the same.”
“Nah,” he said. “You’re… brighter or something.”
She glanced at his mum, who had tactfully stepped away, then back at him. “So. F1 driver now, huh?”
He shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Yeah.”
“Kind of a big deal.”
He met her gaze for a second before looking away. “Yeah it is.”
She studied him. The rings under his eyes. The slight edge to his voice. The way he stood like he was never quite still. Like he didn’t know how to be anymore.
She nodded, eyes flicking to the watch on his wrist, the way his phone buzzed constantly in his back pocket. “You’re not the kid who used to cry whenever you didn’t figure out your math exercises anymore.”
“Thank God,” he muttered.
She laughed softly. “You really did hate those exercises.”
He grinned, and for a second, just a second, he looked like the boy she remembered. The one who sat on the floor with her eating pizza and asking if she’d still come around when he got older.
He gestured toward the kitchen. “Want tea? Or something stronger?”
“Tea’s fine.”
He didn’t protest.
In the kitchen, he moved with practiced ease. Everything about him was smoother now, like he knew people were always watching. Like he’d gotten used to being looked at.
She leaned against the counter. “Your mum says you’ve been home less and less.”
“Racing schedule’s brutal,” he said, not looking at her.
“And the afterparties?”
He gave her a look. “What, you keeping tabs?”
She shrugged. “Just heard things.”
“Figures.”
She sipped her tea, watching him. “This… this isn’t how I pictured you’d turn out.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How did you picture it?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know. Quieter. More… focused. Not clubbing at 4am.”
He smirked again, but this one didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Guess I’m not who you expect huh?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.
“You’ve really made it tough,” she said softly. “You did it.”
He nodded once, lips pressed into a line.
“I’m proud of you, you know,” she added. “Even if you’re a little messier than I imagined.”
That made him laugh. A real one this time.
“You’re still designing buildings?” he asked, shifting the subject like he needed to breathe again.
She smiled. “Yeah. I'm working for a firm in London now. It’s good and it pays well.”
“Knew you’d be good at that.”
She glanced at him. “How?”
“You always saw the whole picture. Not just what something was, but what it could be.”
Her breath caught, just a little.
He looked away again, almost shy. “Anyway. Just thought I’d say it.”
She nodded, eyes gentle. “Thanks.”
She didn’t say more, and neither did he.
But when he walked her to her car an hour later, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders curled slightly inward, he looked at her like maybe, just maybe, he’d finally caught up enough to be seen.
Days later his mum mentioned Y/N’s name, casually, saying she will come by for dinner tonight.
“She said yes?” Lando asked, trying not to sound like he cared too much.
Cisca smiled over the stove. “Of course. She always loved us.”
Oliver, his older brother, seated lazily at the bar with a glass of wine. “Who are we talking about?”
Lando stiffened.
“Remember the girl who used to babysit Lando?” Flo chimed in, flipping through her phone.
“She didn’t babysit me, she helps me with homework.” Lando muttered.
“Yes, she did,” Cisca Jr. said bluntly. “You used to cry when she left.”
“Traitor,” Lando shot back.
Oliver leaned forward, more interested now. “Wait...her? She’s coming for dinner?”
His mum nodded. “She’s back in town for a bit. Thought it’d be nice.”
Oliver smirked. “Isn’t she, like, my age?”
“She is,” Cisca said, far too casually. “Three years older than Lando. Just like you.”
By the time the doorbell rang, he didn’t move at first, just listened.
He heard her laugh as she came in. Hugged Flo like a little sister she hadn’t seen in ages. Kissed Cisca on the cheek, hugged Adam with a warmth that reminding him of old time, where she used to pass all evenings taking care of him and when he used to pretend, he didn’t look up to her.
“Hey,” she said, soft and sure when she turns to him.
He looked up and everything in his chest knotted a little tighter.
She was radiant. Not in some overdone, movie-style way. Just… her. Smiling, eyes kind, coat slightly windswept from the evening air. Still the same in all the ways that mattered.
He barely got out a “Hey” before Oliver was already moving.
“Look who finally made it,” Oliver said, stepping in like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life.
Y/N smiled at him. “Oliver! God, it’s been...what, years?”
He leaned in for a hug. “Far too long.”
Lando watched, silent and tense, as Oliver’s hand slid to the small of her back, just a little too low. Guiding her inside like she didn’t already know where the dining room was. Took her coat without asking. Took the bottle of wine she brought. Even pulled out her chair like she needed help sitting down.
It made Lando want to scream.
Dinner was torture.
It started fine. Y/N caught up with his sisters, laughed at Flo’s latest dating disaster, asked about Cisca Jr.’s internship. Adam beamed as he served the roast, proud of himself like always.
But the shift came, subtle and slow, when his mum started her little... hints.
“So, remind me,” Cisca said sweetly, “you’re still in London, yes?”
Y/N nodded. “Yeah. Been there two years now. Working with a firm in Shoreditch.”
“Funny,” she replied, slicing into her roast. “That’s not far from where Oliver lives.”
Oliver looked up, pretending it was the first time he’d heard about it. “It’s really not.”
Y/N glanced over. “Oh, really?”
Lando stared at his plate, jaw clenched tight.
“And you’re single now?” Cisca continued, far too pleased with herself.
Y/N smiled politely. “I am.”
“Well, what a coincidence,” Cisca said, like this was a sitcom. “So is Oliver.”
Y/N laughed. “Cisca…”
“I’m just saying,” she added lightly. “You’re both in the same city. Same age. Seems like fate, doesn’t it?”
Lando wanted to disappear.
And Oliver, of course, leaned right in. Asked Y/N about her firm, her office, her commute. Gave her his favorite spots in Shoreditch. Complimented her dress like it was normal.
And she laughed.
She laughed.
And what burned worse than Oliver’s smug charm or the way his hand brushed her arm every time he joked, was the way Y/N looked at him.
Like Oliver mattered.
Lando sat through all of it. Barely spoke. Pushed his food around, forced polite smiles, watched her through the glow of candlelight and felt something ancient and aching claw up his throat.
Because Oliver didn’t know her.
He didn’t know that she hated horror movies but still watched them if someone else wanted to. That she pulled at loose threads on the couch when she was nervous. That she always cut her pizza into squares instead of triangles because she said it felt “less chaotic.”
Oliver didn’t know any of that.
But it didn’t seem to matter.
Because she was smiling. Engaged. Open. And it was so easy for Oliver to slide into the space Lando had never let himself touch.
When dinner ended and everyone filtered into the living room for dessert and tea, Oliver gestured to the seat beside him.
And she took it.
Lando sat across the room, hands gripping the armrest, jaw tight.
He didn’t say much after that, just watched. Watched Oliver lean closer when Y/N spoke. Watched her lean back. Watched everything unfold in slow motion.
And when she finally stood to leave, hugging everyone again, thanking Adam for the food and Cisca for the invite, Lando stood last.
Half-hoping.
Maybe she’d look at him too, not like a little boy anymore but as maybe more.
But her smile was kind. Familiar. Polite.
Not the kind he wanted.
“Bye, Lando,” she said gently. “Good seeing you again.”
He nodded. Couldn’t quite get the words out.
As the door shut behind her, Oliver strolled into the kitchen, humming under his breath. “She’s really nice. Smart. Pretty. Even more than I remembered.”
Lando felt the words land like punches.
Cisca clutched her chest like she’d won a lottery ticket. “Oh, I love her. I always have. I told you, didn’t I, Adam? I always said she was like a daughter already.”
Adam just smiled, nodding at his wife words.
“She was such a part of this house,” Cisca went on, hands waving with joy. “Can you imagine if she ended up with Oliver? It would be perfect. Like fate. Like the universe fixed it all for us.”
“She’ll be around more too,” Cisca continue, suddenly turning to him. “Isn’t that nice, Lando? You always liked her, didn’t you? Used to follow her around like a little shadow when you were small. So cute.”
Lando said nothing.
Oliver laughed, eyes glinting. “Now she could be your sister-in-law. Funny, yeah?”
It wasn’t.
It wasn’t funny at all.
Lando forced a smile, one he’d mastered for press conferences and fake interviews, one that never reached his eyes.
His chest was tight. Hot. He could hear the sound of your laugh in his head, the way she had laughed at Oliver’s jokes that night. The way she leaned toward him. Let him touch her arm. Looked at him like he belonged in her world.
He hated it, he hated every second.
He pushed back his chair slowly. “I need air.”
“Lando,” his mum said, halfway rising. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” he lied. “Just… tired.”
He stepped outside onto the porch, the night colder than expected. The air sharp against his face. He gripped the railing, breathing like he’d just come out of a spin on track.
From inside, he could still hear them. Laughter. His mum telling Oliver how it would be so lovely if she came for Christmas. How natural the two looked together.
His stomach twisted.
He always knew she was out of reach. He’d accepted that. Told himself he was just a kid, just a footnote in her life. But hearing his brother, Oliver, say her name like that, hearing his mum call it fate…
It made everything inside him crack open.
Because he didn’t want her to be a memory.
He didn’t want her to be someone else’s.
He stayed out there a while, jaw tight, heart louder than the wind.
Wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now.
i’m thinking cockwarming with Lando, like a family movie night where he just has reader sitting in his lap cover on as he whispers sweet nothings in her ear, while he thrusts so slightly when she started to get comfortable, he would play with her clit when she actually somehow managed to pay attention to the movie, warning his big, red cock in her cunt all the movie long, and in the credits, he gives a dumb excuse to take her to the room and fuck her as he wants to.
this sent my head spinning, anon i like your thinking. a lot. please enjoy my angel babies <3
You wanted to swat his hand away but you couldn't help yourself, instinctively leaning back into his chest as he slowly dragged circles against your sensitive nub, careful to not emit any sounds from your mouth as you pushed your head back against his shoulder.
But he'd prop you back up, using his free hand to hold your chin so it would look as if you were watching the movie just like everyone else and not stuffed with your boyfriend's cock whilst his fingers played with you. And my god it was the hardest thing to do; the delicious stretch of your walls around him making you want to claw his back and have him move inside of you. But you knew it'd be game-over if you made so much as a squeak so you stayed impossibly silent, full to the brim of your boyfriend as you let out a shaky breath.
"Be a good girl and stop moving." He'd whisper to softly against your shoulder, peppering clothes kisses to the curve as you let your eyelids drop. The head of his cock nudged that sweet spot inside of you, the feeling of him balls deep inside of you whilst people were around sending shivers running up and down your spine. And he could sense the way you were feeling, the tears brimming in your eyes because my god you just wanted him to destroy you but he couldn't.
So he'd fasten his fingers that were slipped down the waistband of your bottoms, the insides of your cheeks bitten raw at the ever-building knot that was balling in the pit of your stomach with every delicious circle of his forefinger against your clit. And your attention was snapping from thought to thought as you needily searched for something to concentrate on out of fear of making a noise, or worse - cumming.
As soon as the movie finished he'd remove his fingers, bringing them hastily to his lips as he'd suckle on them for a second or so before helping you off his lap. And all it took was a breathy moan and a disguised cough before you were left feeling completely empty, the blankets hiding your little game wrapped tightly around your lower half as you smiled awkwardly at your guests as they'd all start to stand and stretch, slowly milling out of your shared apartment.
There would still be one or two people left giggling in the kitchen as you'd finally have the chance to wrap your fingers around Lando's wrist, practically dragging him to the bedroom. Desperate to have him inside of you properly. Absolutely, disgustingly desperate.
And the first rock of his hips would draw the shakiest whimper from your throat, hands fisting the bedsheets beneath you as he'd coo from above, "Finally getting what you wanted, hm?"
His pace would be relentless, one hand pressed to the side of your head whilst the other would snake between your sweaty bodies and play coyly with your clit. And the room would be silent apart from the slapping of bare skin, your pussy clenched dangerously around his length as he'd threaten to slip from you completely before you locked your ankles round his back.
Because there was no way he was waiting to make you cum, his cock slick with your excitement as he whined impatiently at the feeling of you so snug and tight around him. His fingers becoming rhythmless as you teetered on the edge of an orgasm, finally, your whines and cries growing louder with every thrust. And truthfully you didn't care if there was anyone still left, forced to listen to you mercilessly fuck, because you were finally getting what you wanted.
Lando's thrusts would grow sloppy, his head cradled in the crook of your neck as he whimpered at how good you felt and how tight you were, all praises going straight to your cunt as your vision turned a blinding white. The orgasm would rattle through you, leaking through every vein as your toes curled and your back arched from the bed; Lando trying his hardest to hold on and help you through it but failing miserably, his own mouth hung open as he'd twitch once, twice, inside of you before cumming. Hard.
oscar inspires one last yn song a year after their breakup.
★ᝰ pairing: oscar piastri x fem!singer!reader
★ᝰ warning(s): exes-to-lovers!au; swearing, stantwt + ig stans shenanigans, shippers, public speculations/gossip, parasocial relationships at work; hints of eloping
★ᝰ note: the song discussed throughout is akmu’s happening :] it’s also solely responsible for how this came to be, ngl. i recommend listening, esp w english subs/trans on! also, believe it or not, i have no idea where the ‘-to-lovers’ came from; this was only supposed to be an exes!au, lmao.
★ᝰ disclaimer: pictures used are from pinterest. all credits belong to their rightful owners. yn faceclaim is lily zneimer <3
masterlist
ynln ✓
liked by joshu_acoustic, logansargeant, and others
ynln is friday okay?
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username YN YOU’RE ALIVEEE
laufey ynnnn ♥︎ by author
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ynln laufeyyyy 🥺♥︎
username you remembered your pw after a year 😭
vernonline can’t. does tonight work? ♥︎ by author
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ynln my manager says no
username QUEEN YOURE BACK!!!!
username do i need tissues for this??
username grid + wags in the likes 👀
username yn was around them for years, what did you expect
username everyone except the one that matters 💔
username WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN LOCA
ynln making new friends, mostly 🙂↕️
username YN I MISSED YOU
username is this an apology for disappearing?
zendaya friday’s more than okay 😎 ♥︎ by author
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ynln that’s a date, then 😎
username gurl is this on purpose—
username ROIGHT??? THE DATE
kikagomes love you 🧡 ♥︎ by author
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username omg omg KIKAAAA
username nice to know you guys are still friends 🥺
ynln ilyyy kiks ♥︎
username DROUGHT IS OVER HALLELUJAH
username torn between wanting to hear your new song now && being afraid to hear it
formulaupdates
liked by username, username, and others
formulaupdates oscar piastri posts about ex yn ln’s new song 3 minutes after it dropped on streaming platforms (first slide is from yn’s story, second slide is from oscar’s)
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username MY PARENTS
username my last oscaryn meal 💔
username don’t give me hope like this
username is oscar aware this isn’t how exes work?
username is oscar aware they’re exes now?
username MY HEART
username guys, hear me out: what if they’ve gotten back tgt?
username tinfoil hat moment
username fair, but we know how private they are, so 🤷♀️
username considering how quick osc is to post abt her new song (not even waiting until he finishes the entire thing) . . . i believe it tbh
username does oscar realize the song’s about him 😭
username it’s not abt him
username it literally is LMAO
username believe what you want, but yn used that bg pic on purpose — orange + road combo is literally pointing to osc
username yes is the only answer
username the way he still promotes her song like he always had as if they hadn’t broken up 💔
username I RISE FROM THE DEAD THANK YOU
username THERES STILL HOPE
username i wish my brain worked like all of y’all bc mine just went straight to connecting the sunset to their relationship ending 😭😭
username MY OTP 😭😭😭
username i need them back together PLEASE
username SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UPPP
username hold up they still haven’t refollowed eo so how did oscar know abt yn’s new song? 🤨
username my best bet would be through their common friends
username either that or osc has a secret acc where he still follows yn
username i vote for the second one ngl
username OSCARYN NATION RISEEE
username is this gonna be the last oscaryn anthem ever 💔
formulaupdates
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formulaupdates singer yn ln, oscar piastri’s former girlfriend of six years, has been spotted at the paddock ahead of the grand prix
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username YN AT THE PADDOCK???
username first oscar being suspiciously too smiley in that interview earlier, and now yn’s at the paddock? 🤨 i think something’s happening
username DONT JOKE WITH ME LAD
username AYO??? NO WAY
username are they back together?
username for my mental health, i hope the answer’s yes 😭🙏
username she looks happy 🥺
username DID OSCAR INVITE HER OMG OMG
username so is no one going to point out the mclaren jacket on her arm
username 🙏🙏 YN FOR GRID WALK 🙏🙏
username yn’s so pretty!! her sunglasses 🤌🏽🤌🏽
username WAR IS OVERRRR
username thank fuck the worst year of my life is finally over HALLELUJAH
username did she arrive with oscar?
username she arrived with alex’s gf lily!
username MY SHIP IS BACK????
username guys . . . i think yn’s there for someone else
username does osc know she’s there 👀
username OSCARYN IS BACK I FUCKING WON
username not to be a conspiracy theorist but what if they never actually broke up
username you haven’t heard yn’s new song && it shows
username you haven’t heard yn’s songs that aren’t abt oscar && it shows 💀 not all of her songs are based on her own experiences
username im claiming an oscar win idc idc
username i didn’t think i’d see another day of yn at the paddock :’)
username yea . . . i can’t be normal abt this. i’m sorry. literally vibrating rn
username ARE THERE ANY PICTURES OF HER AND OSC
username RIGHT?? WHERE ARE THEY I NEED TJEM
formulaupdates
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formulaupdates oscar piastri seemingly confirms his relationship with yn ln on his radio
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username STOP EVERYTHING
username the way i scrambled to find my phone when this appeared on the telly
username YESSSSS
username WE CHEERED
username bro literally said getting yn >>> celebrating his win
username oscaryn IS really back 😭😭
username i’m on the FLOOR
username mate wasted no time, i respect
username see i wouldn’t be confused rn if sky just put ‘singer’ under yn’s name bc now things aren’t adding up
username they didn’t actually break up bet
username how are you explaining the one year silence + all the typical post-breakup stuff they did then 🤨
username pr stunt ez
username for what?
username FOR WHAAAT
username not me celebrating like i’m part of oscaryn 😭😭
username THIS IS FOR ME
username MY CROPS ARE THRIVING
username he 😭 knew 😭 where 😭 yn 😭 was 😭
username IM SONBING
username i need to be a fly on the wall so bad
username putting different lives by yn ln on repeat rn to celebrate
username i’m framing this idc idc
username WELCOME BACK OSCAR ‘SIMP’ ‘DOWN BAD’ PIASTRI I MISSED YOU
formulaupdates
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formulaupdates singer yn ln congratulates oscar piastri on her instagram story
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username DOUBLE CONFIRMATION
username JUST THE WAY I LIKE IT YESH
username she’s back on posting his race posters again 😭🧡
username okay, okay. phew. when she didn’t show up on the podium ceremony crowd, i thought we were just oscaryn-baited. thank heavens, we actually weren’t
username yea same, yn prolly didn’t want to take the attention away from him
username i used to pray for times like this
username WE OFFICIALLY SURVIVED THROUGH THE OSCARYN DROUGHT
username the lack of heart(s) concerns me . . . it feels cold, somehow
username oscar won? no, no, *i* won
username OSCARYNNN
username MY SHAYLAS
username is it just me or is something really off? the vibe is kinda not giving
username i may or may not have sold my soul for this but it’s def worth it
username THEYRE BACK TOGETHER??!!!!
username can’t wait to witness my sister flip when she finds out. she’s an oscaryn endgame believer
username guys . . . yn deleted—
username NOOOOO i just went to yn’s ig story to see it for myself && this isn’t there anymore 💔💔
username are they actually back tgt or are we just living through their confusingly blurry post-breakup boundaries 😭
username did they just take oscaryn away from me again 😭😭
oscarpiastri ✓
liked by arthur_leclerc, lando, and others
oscarpiastri happ(y) en(d)ing
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username you wouldn’t believe the sigh of relief i just let out
arthur_leclerc for something you’ve been thinking about for years, i didn’t expect to get an invite 30 minutes before the ceremony started
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logansargeant ^ y’all are lucky i was in the area
username IJBOL not arthur and logan exposing them— 😭😭
username i’ve never been so confused and happy at the same time
username OH MY STARS YOU GOT MARRIED
username THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE
fernandoalo_oficial it was my pleasure to officiate your union. congratulations!
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username OAUSE WDYM FERNANDO OFFICIATED
username YOU’RE ORDAINED??? SINCE WHEN??? TF
username i think my brain stopped working bc WHAT
lando happy for you both but can you redo the wedding when we go back to monaco
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username ??? i need context so bad
georgerussell63 i second. we need better pictures!
alex_albon i third! it wasn’t fair fernando and carlos were the only ones who look decent!
charles_leclerc congratulations, oscar and yn! leo had fun being your flower boy
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pierregasly simba as well! he felt pretty with the flowers (kika took a bunch of pictures)
username STOPPP LEO AND SIMBA WERE FLOWER BOYS 🥺
lewishamilton congratulations, you two! tell yn if she still needs someone to walk her down for your next wedding, she knows where to find me 🥂
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ynln can i also contract roscoe to be our ring bearer next time 🥺🙏
username OH MY HEAVENS YN I SEE YOUR VISION
username I AM ALIVE
username THIS IS PERFECT
lilymhe look at our masterpiece 🥰 @/kikagomes @/alexandrasaintmleux @/iamrebeccad
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iamrebeccad i am literally going to add this to my portfolio
alexandrasaintmleux we did so well under pressure 🥳🎊
kikagomes everything’s a masterpiece when yn’s the muse 😘
estebanocon thank you for the invite, oscar and yn! congratulations!
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username oscar is that a happening reference 👀 ♥︎ by author
username i’m still not sure how we ended up here, but AAAAAA CONGRATULATIONS 🤩🤩
hattiepiastri now hold up @/maepiastrii @/ediepiastri @/nicolepiastri are you guys seeing this
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maxverstappen1 it was a long time coming. congratulations!
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carlossainz55 beautiful wedding. congratulations!
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yukitsunoda0511 congratulations, oscar and yn!!! 🤩🕺
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username FINALLYYYYY
username i love this development omg
hulkhulkenberg here’s to the new chapter of your lives! congratulations, you two!!
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username MY PARENTS ARE MARRIED
username NO TAKE BACKS THIS TIME ISTG
ynln my happy ending 🧡 ♥︎ by author
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oscarpiastri always 🧡
oscarpiastri i’m still keeping “happening” in my playlist, though
ynln posted on their story!
★ᝰ me, while writing: wow. the netizens have no idea about the amount of angst behind the scenes during the grand prix day. lmao, good for them.
★ᝰ in all seriousness, i hope y’all had fun reading this as much as i did writing it ♡
The hum of the sim rig has become part of the soundtrack of your nights.
Fans whirring, pedals clicking, the occasional muttered curse in a very tired British accent. You’ve gotten used to falling asleep to it on some nights, because this is Lando’s version of “just one more episode” , just one more stint, just one more lap, just one more run.
Tonight, though, the bed feels too empty.
You roll over and blink at the glowing red numbers on your bedside clock. 1:37 a.m.
You groan softly into the pillow. “He said he’d be an hour…”
You’re wrapped up in the duvet, warm and cozy, but it doesn’t feel right without a certain long-limbed, eternally-wiggly idiot sprawled beside you, stealing your pillow and half the blanket.
You stare at the empty side of the bed for a few seconds, then sigh.
“Okay,” you mumble to yourself, voice thick with sleep. “We’re doing this.”
You drag the duvet with you as you climb out of bed, wrapping it around your shoulders like a cape. The floor feels cold against your feet as you shuffle through the hallway, the soft glow of LED lights guiding you toward the sim room.
You can already hear him before you see him.
“Come on, come on, come on,” Lando mutters, his voice low and focused. “Don’t bottle this lap… that’s it… nice and easy…”
You reach the half-open door and lean your head against the frame for a second, watching him.
He’s fully locked in: hands on the wheel, feet working the pedals, eyes glued to the monitor. The neon strips around the rig bathe him in blue and purple. He’s got his headset on, curls messy, jaw tense. He bites his bottom lip as he takes a corner.
Even from here, you can see the concentration in his eyes.
You also see the empty mug on the desk and the can of energy drink beside it.
You sigh again, softer this time. “Idiot,” you whisper fondly.
He doesn’t notice you at first. So you shuffle closer, the duvet dragging behind you like a giant, fluffy tail.
You come to a stop right next to the rig and just stand there for a moment, wrapped up like a grumpy burrito, watching the little car on his screen.
Lando senses movement and, without looking, says, “I’ll be done in a bit, love, promise.”
“You said that an hour ago,” you mumble.
He glances sideways, then properly does a double take when he sees you, all sleepy and bundled up.
“Oh my god,” he laughs. “You look like a little blanket ghost.”
“I’m a tired blanket ghost,” you correct him, pouting. “And my boyfriend abandoned me.”
He presses his lips together, holding in a smile. “Abandoned is a strong word.”
“You’re in here driving fake cars while I’m in there freezing and lonely,” you point out. “Feels like abandonment.”
He snorts. “You stole all the duvets, how are you freezing?”
“I’m emotionally freezing.”
Lando actually pauses for half a second, the car slowing slightly. “Emotionally freezing?”
“Yes,” you insist. “It’s a medical condition. The only cure is boyfriend cuddles.”
He laughs properly at that, eyes darting between you and the screen. “You’re so dramatic.”
“You love it.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
You shift your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling a little shy despite the banter. You tug the edge of the duvet up over your mouth and say, more softly:
“Lando… baby, please come back to bed. I’m missing you.”
This time, he really pauses.
The car on the screen goes slightly wide into the next corner; he has to correct it with a sharp turn of the wheel. “Shit,”
But he manages to keep it on track and lets out a breath.
He glances at you again, and the look on your face must do something to him, because his whole expression melts.
“Aww, come here,” he says, voice warm and teasing. “Don’t stand over there pouting at me.”
“I’m not pouting,” you lie.
“You’re absolutely pouting,” he says. “Your bottom lip is doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The ‘I miss you, you stupid little sim goblin’ thing.”
You try not to smile, but fail. “That’s exactly what I was thinking, actually.”
“Thought so.”
You move closer, until you can rest your hip lightly against the side of the rig. He reaches out one hand without looking, fingers searching for you. You slip your hand into his, the warmth of his palm making you realize just how cold your fingers are.
He squeezes gently. “You’re freezing.”
“Told you,” you say. “Emotional and physical now.”
He groans. “You’re too cute for this.”
“Then come to bed.”
“I’m on a really good run,” he protests, but there’s no real fight in it, just that stubborn, playful tone you know so well. “I just need to finish this stint and,”
“Lando,” you cut in quietly.
He glances at you again. Your eyes are a little glassy with sleep, your cheeks flushed, hair messy from the pillow, the duvet swallowing your entire body.
There’s a long pause.
“…Okay, that’s rude,” he says finally. “You can’t look that cute at one in the morning, that should be illegal.”
“Is that a yes?” you ask hopefully.
He winces slightly, looking between the screen and you. “Give me… five minutes?”
You sigh dramatically and let your body go limp, leaning your full weight onto the side of the rig.
He yelps. “Oi, don’t break it!”
“Then come to bed.”
“You’re actually blackmailing me with my own sim rig.”
You make a small, exaggerated sniffle. “I just wanted to cuddle… but I guess I’ll go back alone…”
You turn, starting to shuffle away, duvet dragging behind you like the world’s saddest ghost.
You only make it two steps before you hear the click of the pause button.
“Right, that’s it,” Lando says, ripping his headset off. “Okay, I’m done. I’m retiring. I’m never sim racing again, you win.”
You stop and peek over your shoulder, trying not to grin too hard. “Really?”
He’s already climbing out of the rig, groaning as he straightens his back. “Yes, really. My girlfriend is wandering the house like a blanket goblin at 1:40 in the morning because she misses me. I think that outranks ‘one more stint.’”
You turn fully to face him as he walks over, hair a mess, cheeks a little flushed, socks sliding slightly on the floor.
When he reaches you, he immediately wraps his arms around your bundled-up form, pulling you into his chest.
You melt.
“Hi,” you mumble into his t-shirt.
“Hi,” he echoes, hugging you tighter. “You’re so warm.”
“You’re so cold,” you counter, shivering a little at his touch. “How are your hands like ice?”
“Because I’ve been sweaty and stressed,” he says, wiggling his fingers against your sides. “Also, you took all the blankets, remember?”
You squeak and squirm. “Stop, I’m fragile right now.”
“You look it,” he teases gently. “You look half asleep.”
“I am half asleep,” you say, leaning fully into him. “The half that’s awake is just here to collect my Lando and go back to bed.”
“Oooh, ‘my Lando,’” he repeats, smiling into your hair. “Say that again.”
“No.”
“Rude.”
You pull back slightly to look up at him, eyes soft. “Baby?”
“Yeah?”
“Come back to bed with me.”
There’s something about the way you say it,soft, a little whiny, eyes big and tired,that knocks the last bit of resistance out of him.
He sighs dramatically. “Fine. But if my lap time is ruined when I come back tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”
“You can blame me all you want,” you say. “As long as you’re warm when we cuddle.”
He grins. “Deal.”
He flicks off the main power to the rig, the room dimming as the lights on the wheel and screens go dark. He grabs your hand with one of his and the duvet with the other, tucking it more securely around your shoulders.
“Come on, blanket goblin,” he says softly. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
You shuffle back through the hallway together, your steps slow and a little tangled because neither of you wants to let go of the other’s hand.
“Were you really missing me that much?” he asks quietly after a moment.
You nod against his shoulder. “Mhm. Bed feels wrong without you.”
His chest rises and falls with a soft laugh. “Same. I just thought you were asleep already.”
“I was,” you admit. “Then I rolled over and you weren’t there. And the pillow smelled like you but it wasn’t actually you, so…”
“So you came hunting for me,” he finishes, sounding almost pleased with himself.
“Yes. Like a very tired, very under-cuddled predator.”
He snorts. “Terrifying.”
You reach the bedroom and climb back onto the mattress, pulling the duvet around you. Lando closes the door gently, then pulls his t-shirt over his head and throws it onto a chair before sliding in beside you with a sigh.
The bed dips under his weight, and suddenly everything feels… right again.
He immediately pulls you into his chest, one arm looping around your waist, the other sliding under your pillow so he can tug you closer.
You bury your face against his bare chest, inhaling his scent,soap, sweat, and something that’s just him.
“Better?” he murmurs, voice low and rough with tiredness now that the adrenaline is fading.
“Much,” you whisper. “You’re warm now.”
“I told you,” he mumbles. “I warm up faster with you.”
You smile against his skin. “You’re such a flirt.”
“Only for you.” He pauses. “Okay, and sometimes for my Twitch chat. But mostly for you.”
You pinch his side lightly. “Rude.”
He laughs quietly, then after a beat, says more seriously, “I really am sorry I stayed on that long, you know.”
You shrug, fingers tracing random shapes across his chest. “I get it. It’s your thing.”
“Yeah, but…” He hesitates, then tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him. His eyes are soft now, the intense sim-racer focus replaced by something much warmer. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m choosing the sim over you.”
“You’re not,” you say immediately. “I know you’re not. You just get caught up in it.”
He sighs. “I do. It’s like my brain forgets time is real.”
“I know,” you say again, gently. “That’s why I came to get you.”
“And pout,” he adds.
“And pout,” you agree. “I’m very talented at that.”
He smiles. “Yeah, you are.” He presses his lips to your forehead. “But if you ever feel like this again, just come in and tell me, okay? Don’t sit there thinking you’re bothering me.”
“I did tell you,” you remind him. “I literally stood in the doorway and said, ‘Lando, baby please come back to bed, I’m missing you.’ That was my big romantic declaration.”
He bites back a laugh. “Yeah, that sort of knocked a few tenths off my lap time.”
“Good.”
He shakes his head fondly. “You’re dangerous.”
You smirk sleepily. “You love it.”
“I do,” he says simply.
You tuck yourself even closer, leg hooking around his. “Next time, I’m just unplugging the sim.”
He gasps. “That’s illegal.”
“I’ll do it anyway.”
“You’re a menace.”
“Your menace,” you correct him.
He goes quiet for a beat, then hugs you tighter. “Yeah,” he whispers. “My menace.”
You feel sleep start to tug at you again, your eyelids growing heavy, your body relaxing completely now that he’s here.
“Hey, love?” he murmurs after a moment.
“Mhm?” you hum, eyes already half-closed.
“Thanks for coming to get me,” he says softly. “I don’t always realize how long I’ve been in there until you show up looking like… that.”
“Like what?” you murmur.
“Like a sleepy little blanket monster who loves me,” he says, voice dripping with fondness.
You smile, eyes closed now. “I do love you.”
“I know,” he replies, kissing the tip of your nose. “I love you too.”
You drift closer and closer to sleep, the last thing you feel being his fingers rubbing soothing circles into your back and his breathing deepening beside you.
As the room quiets and the last of the sim’s hum fades from your memory, one simple thought curls up warm in your chest:
He can race all he wants.
At the end of the night, he always comes back to you.
୨ৎ : featuring : husband!kimi x wife!reader
୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : after a rough race, no one dares approach an absolutely fuming kimi räikkönen, no one except his wife. while the paddock walks on eggshells, she walks straight into the fire, and kimi melts the second he sees her.
୨ৎ : genre : romance
୨ৎ : word count : 423
୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ
the paddock was walking on eggshells.
you could feel the tension in the air the second you stepped past security — thick, blistering, coiled tight like a storm about to snap. no one had to tell you that kimi had a bad race. you could tell by the way people were whispering in corners and actively avoiding the alfa romeo motorhome like it was cursed.
“is she—?” a mechanic whispered as you passed, eyes wide.
“is that—?”
“oh god. someone stop her before she walks in there—”
a brave soul, maybe one of kimi’s engineers, jogged up beside you. “uhm, mrs. räikkönen—he’s not in the best mood. i just—maybe give him a little time? he’s kind of… you know. hot.”
you blinked. “hot?”
“like—like radiating anger. you might burn your eyebrows off.”
you smiled sweetly and kept walking.
because you knew better.
kimi was sitting in the back of the garage, fireproofs tied around his waist, hair damp with sweat, jaw clenched so tightly you were pretty sure it could snap steel. his race suit hung limp off his shoulders, and his eyes were locked on the floor like it had personally offended him.
no one dared speak. no one dared breathe.
until you stepped into view.
and everything shifted.
he looked up. you saw it in real time—his entire expression flickered, softened, shattered. his hands unclenched. his shoulders dropped. and then came the most shocking thing of all:
a grin.
“kulta?” he said, voice a low rasp, and it hit you right in the heart.
you didn’t hesitate. you walked right into his space, cupped his cheeks with both hands, and pressed your forehead to his.
“you okay?” you whispered.
he didn’t answer at first. just pulled you into his lap like it was second nature, wrapped his arms around your waist, and buried his face in your shoulder.
“i hated today,” he muttered against your skin.
“i know,” you murmured, fingers brushing through his hair.
“but i love this,” he added quietly. “you here.”
someone cleared their throat awkwardly behind you. then another voice, way too smug:
“well, look at that. the ice man does melt.”
you looked up to find sebastian vettel and fernando alonso grinning from a few feet away, arms crossed. valtteri was trying not to laugh. lando and charles were just wide-eyed.
“should we start bringing her to every race?” joked seb.
“she’s clearly the key to unlocking kimi 2.0,” lando added.
established relationship lando norris x fem!reader
no use of y/n, as always.
in which the weekend takes a twist, and all you want is a baby.
prompt⋯ hi! first of all, i absolutely ADORE your writing. i’ve been reading all of your stuff for the past few days!! second, i was scrolling on pinterest and i rediscovered the lando daddy bracelet pic. that combined with THE dutch gp pic made me be down even worse for him. with that i request a fic with an established reader x lando relationship. that’s set during the weekend of the 2024 dutch gp. where he wears the bracelet over the course of the weekend and it gets you(? or me? idk how to phrase that) really worked up, and after he wins they fuck while he’s still wearing it. and it’s like the most rough feral sex known to mankind. but at the end you want him to come in you and he’s like “oh you wanna make me a daddy”. like yes it is a slight breeding kink but it’s more of the idea of the bracelet and how he definitely knew what he was doing when he wore it (in the fic and irl too tbh). that’s the general idea but feel free to put your own spin on it!! i am incredibly down bad for him and that photo did something to me. ty 🤗🧡
a/n ⋯ yeah tbh i got no excuse for this one chat...like...how could i not resist a breeding kink...i know y'all want it too. but for real--- thank you anon for being patient. i had a lot of fun writing this in between doing work. writing is an escape for me. thank you to all for the continued support, and i'll be continuing to get through asks as time moves along. comment below to be added to my taglist, or comment in general! i love replying to all of them as much as i can.
warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, breeding kink, impregnation, teasing, possessiveness, jealousy, creampie, begging, mating press-- allat shit tbh. if i miss a warning, let me know.
wc ⋯ 8.5k (unedited.)
things had begun to be different between you and lando. you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the gears shifted, the stars aligned, though you only cared how good it made you feel with him.
but he knew. he knew exactly when.
you’d been dating lando for two years now. it was two years of pure bliss— the exciting lifestyle that you’ve craved, the love and care, the passion that you shared with him was exquisitely yours. he is yours. and you are his.
that morning in the paddock he was speaking to max, chattering about the post collision from hungaroring. they seemed to make up in due time, finding it easier to call one another “brother’s” again, despite the damages done to their cars and the media in an uproar about their impish, punitive behaviors. you didn’t spare any glance towards the comments made about it, knowing that lando had been in a rough shape that weekend.
you played with penelope, p, as they were talking, squatted on the ground with colored pens in your hand. kelly loomed behind, on her phone, thankful enough that you could occupy her for the time being. you had no issue entertaining her. you loved being around children…most of the time.
“this one?” you held out the red pen for p, as she was pointing to with a bashful look. she was shy– especially around you, given your ethereal, wanderlust nature. you carried yourself in such an elegant way that could facilitate a ray of sunlight through the most tepid storms.
she nodded and you handed it to her. she latched her smaller hand around it, coloring in the rb20 from her sketchbook. your hand fell beneath your chin as you watched her carefully color inside the lines, dreading falling out of it. you smiled as she did, the dress you wore crinkling fashionably around your thighs.
p flashed the page at you nervously, awaiting her input. your eyes glowed, sparkles falling onto the page as you scanned it. she really did do a good job.
“beautiful, p!” you commented, your palm splaying over her upper back. “you’re really good at this, you know?”
a shade of red filled her cheeks, warming her skin. you hadn’t meant to embarrass her, nor make her nervous.
“do you want to color one with me?” you asked her, pointing to the pages in the book. she hesitated for a moment, as if she didn’t hear you properly, but ended up nodding with the same excitement that she did when she’d see max on the podium. “you pick. something…pretty.”
the gears were turning in her head as she flipped through the pages, trying to find the perfect one for you and her to work on. you, on the other hand, were focused on how her brows scrunched together as she furiously searched through her booklet. it was cute the way she perceived things. she was a cutie. it made you think about your own future, what you wanted.
what you wanted,
your eyes drifted from the carpeted floors inside the hospitality room, to the shoes that he wore, and up his black jeans to the papaya livery he sported for the day. you lingered on the expanse of his chest, the tan skin peaking through the v-neck of his unbuttoned collar. your mouth watered instinctively, thinking about how lucky you were to have a man like lando love you so deeply.
as you glanced further up towards his chin, the unshaved rigid surface that sparked electricity over your body, you found him already looking down at you. he wasn’t even paying attention to max at this point, already giving you all of his attention and you didn’t even need to ask.
you gave him a smile, covering your lips afterward to stifle your giggle, and turned back to p once she tapped you that she’d found a picture for the two of you to color.
“mate?”
lando was lost in a daze staring at you. gawking at your figure, the dress you decided to wear. it was a denim colored sheath that you’d twin with alexandra with. she’d wear the gia dress in a pomegranate hue, whereas you took the navy.
lando’s hand was cupped against his chin, rubbing over his stubble, keen on watching how you interacted with p.
your relationship had progressed further than he’s ever gotten to before in his life. he was at a point where he knew he didn’t want anyone else, to explore someone else’s body the way he did yours. he knew you, inside and out, and he didn’t think another connection was even fathomable.
you appeared to be so gentle with her, taking the time to listen to what she wanted you to do, how to color, maneuver the pens. there would be no outside the line coloring on her watch, that was for sure.
he found himself smiling bright.
do you want kids?
he knew that he did. he always knew that. but he’d never broach the subject to you directly. your relationship with him was secure, but was it eligible to be taken to the next level? would you be frightened by his sudden urge to create a life with you? a product of him, and the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?
“yeah? sorry.” lando looked back towards max. but it was too late, and max was looking over his shoulder towards you and p.
when he looked back towards lando, he threw his hands up in defense. max rolled his eyes. “don’t know why you haven’t proposed to her yet. what’re you waiting for?”
lando bristled. he waited a moment to answer, wondering the same fucking thing. what was he waiting on? the perfect time, perhaps. summer break was rapidly approaching, and he certainly had a ring picked out.
the papaya clad driver pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos, settled on the right one, and handed it to max. the other driver took it, zooming in, not that he needed to.
“when?”
lando shrugged. “summer break. greece, maybe.”
max cheered, slapping his hand over his mouth in shock. “you’re serious, mate?” lando nodded. max pulled him in for a hug, slapping him over the back. he couldn’t be happier for his best friend in this moment, starting to jump up and down. lando settled him down and slid his phone back into his pocket.
“keep it quiet. i want her to be surprised.”
max made a motion of a lock and key. “surprised about what?”
lando felt giddy.
you hadn’t been paying much attention to what lando nor max were chittering about. you’d been so hyper focused on coloring with p, that you were absent minded of the conversation behind you.
p had picked out a cartoon illustration of max and lando smiling towards the viewer. you’d thought it was an adorable choice, and it showed that p was more aware than what she led on to be. she, of course, started coloring in max. with his neutrally blonde hair, redbull cap, she was fast working.
but then she shoved the book towards you, politely anyways, and pointed at lando, who was yet to be colored in.
“my turn?” she nodded her head, handing you the orange marker.
you grinned, carefully coloring in the lines of the drawing before p took a deep breath. “are you and lando married?”
the question had you freeze momentarily, taken back by her question. “no, p, we’re not.”
you continued to color, whilst she continued to question. “why not?”
“because he hasn’t asked me.”
“why don’t you ask him?”
“i’m not sure that’s what he wants.”
p raised a brow. she looked towards lando and max, giggling together like school girls, then back to you and your focused coloring.
she handed you a brown marker for lando’s curls. “i think you should.”
now it was your turn to be inquisitive, “really, now?”
she nodded her head without hesitating. “then you’d be my aunt!” she giggled.
you colored in lando’s curls, carefully, diligently, thinking of how they felt beneath your fingertips. your breath hitched thinking about the thought of him proposing, wondering if he had ever even thought about it. you knew what your answer would be. it wouldn’t even take a beat of your heart to give him in answer, if he chose to ask. if he chose you.
with one final stripe of a black marker, your drawing of lando had been finished. you stood up, and so did p.
“are you going to have babies?”
“p!” you gasped, mouth dropping. “that’s none of your business, young lady.”
she laughed, twirling around. “what? that’s what mama says happens when you love someone.” confident, wasn’t she? “do you love lando?”
“of course i do, p.”
she gasped.
“is there a baby in there right now?!” she seemed concerned, becoming so bold as to touch your stomach. it was a little higher than where your womb sat beneath your skin, but close enough.
you shook your head. “no, honey. i am not having a baby right now.”
she looked disappointed. taking her hand back, she crossed them over her chest.
“penelope, what are you going on about?” kelly finally chimed in, rubbing p’s back with her hand.
“nothing.”
but it wasn’t nothing.
lando appeared behind you, a hand on your lower back. you leaned into him, recognizing his touch, and you got a brief wave of panic wondering if he heard your conversation with p.
“p,” lando said over your shoulder. she looked up. “do you still have your bracelet making kit?”
she nodded again, though you weren’t quite sure what he’d need it for. you guessed you’d find out eventually, because lando uttered, “it’s a secret, sorry baby.”
and he followed p to her small table, pulling out the kit from her backpack. she had taken lando’s hand to guide him, and you watched fondly.
too fondly, you thought, and knew you were in deep shit.
the morning of the dutch grand prix had you biting at the corners of your fingernails with anticipation. the summer break you had spent with lando was more than you could imagine— filled with delicious foods, sunny weather, morning swims, and of course, the sex. with more free time that lando had, he was utterly obsessed with you. he worshiped the ground you walked on, and it made you feel like more than the queen you deserved to be.
in the paddock you stood, shifting on your feet, anxiously fiddling with your purse once your fingernails sufficed. lily joined at your side, ethereal with her effortless beauty, and she nudged you with her elbow. “you look nervous,” she gave a short laugh.
you scoffed but joined in on her antics. “do i?” you certainly did. lily raised her brows to inquire further of your apparent distress.
relenting, you couldn’t resist her. there was no reason to— you were both practically attached at the hip. ever since oscar had been signed to mclaren, the two of you were inseparable. the famous mclaren WAGs.
your relationship with lando had been going on for two years now. sure, you’d had some rocky slopes to climb with the schedule of his career and the development of your own; that’s the thing about relationships though, isn’t it? that no matter what hill you’d have to climb, you’d find one another on the other side. the two of you wanted to make it work, so there was no obsolete universe in which you’d never find each other.
“he needs this, lils.” you practically sighed, finally gaining the courage to look her in the eye. she looked at you with the same softness that a mother would, or a best friend that you could count on.
“you know he’ll do well.” oh, don’t you know it. lando, whilst on vacation, never took a moment’s worth of rest. he wanted this just as much as you did for him, a second career win. it was all that you could think about the moment you stepped off the plane before him in zandvoort. it was going to happen. you had a feeling.
and a good one at that.
qualifying swept by in a flash. the saturday afternoon was a clean sweep for your boyfriend in the front row. you couldn’t be more proud of him. when he was finished with his interviews and taking his leave with his half removed fireguard, you launched at him.
flinging your arms around his neck, he gripped onto your waist and thighs like his life depended on it. it did. your nose found the sweat against the column of his neck, inhaling deeply. you melted into him.
lando felt the same. with his forehead burrowing into the hair on your scalp, he let out a deep breath that he’d been holding since he got out of the car.
“missed my sweet girl,” he breathed, the sweat and perspiration heating the hairs on your head. you sighed softly, relaxing into him as he held you tighter.
you broke away from him, setting yourself on the ground. you stood happily in front of him, rocking on your heels and playing with the hem of the black, sponser-ridden firesuit.
“‘m so fucking proud, lan. pole? pole on the first race back?” you were in shellshock, overjoyed disbelief.
he raised a hand to cup your face before he’d be whisked away. the bracelet on his wrist caught your eye, one that he must’ve put on once he stepped out of the car. the friendship letter bracelet read loudly to you, it letters all capitalized.
‘daddy’
you gripped his hand, observing the ornament. you raised a brow. is this the bracelet he had made with p?
lando let out a short laugh. “like it?”
you flushed, staring down at the small, dainty thing. it had you shifting on your feet, ideas and fantasies running wild through your pillage of a mind. “maybe.” you hummed, stroking the beads with your index finger.
“wore it for you.”
the statement had you standing up straight. “really now?” lando nodded.
and before he was whisked away, he whispered into your ear, “don’t get any ideas, baby. i know that look.”
you were rendered speechless, and by the time you managed to open your mouth, he had already left through the door.
the following day was race day. you were dressed flawlessly, curating perfection with your outfits to match the same prestige that lando had with his fans. also, you enjoyed feeling pretty. looking pretty, as lando would often say to you. he didn’t forget this morning either, arriving to the paddock with you in tow, hand wrapped tightly with yours.
as he took selfie after selfie, signed hat after hat, he didn’t forget to remind you, “you look beautiful,” that always brought a smile to your face, a blush fanning your cheeks.
when the two of you made it inside of mclaren’s hospitality, you were greeted by both lily and oscar. you gave her a warming hug, and she returned it with the same affirmation. when you separated, she danced on her tip-toes. lando and oscar side stepped toward the tea and coffee station, chatting amongst themselves.
“wow!” you were confused, raising a brow. “front row for him, hmm? told you, had nothing to worry about.”
you rolled your eyes, still holding anxieties for the race. you were always concerned going into a weekend. no matter how many grand prix’s you’ve attended, seen lando come out safe and sound, you still picked at the skin of your fingertips. anxious habits die hard.
lando’s managers came in alongside oscar’s beckoning both mclaren drivers to follow them to get ready for the race. lando found you instantly, his hands finding the handles on your hips, squeezing inward. you tensed at the action, wondering what had him on such edge.
you spun, hands running from his chest up to his neck, his cheeks. you cupped his face in your hands, sheepishly smiling.
“you’ll win this for me?”
he scoffed, “always.”
you smiled harder—if that was possible— and connected your lips with his. he returned your kiss, diving deep into your mouth. he held you close by your lower back, as if this was the last time that he’d ever kiss you. he sought to deepen your kiss by the clacking of your teeth, his tongue incessantly searching the inside of your mouth.
you separated yourself, still holding onto his cheeks. lando dipped his forehead against yours, seeking another kiss, but you pulled away. “go. they’re waiting for you.”
“don’t care.”
you flushed, allowing him one last peck before you patted his cheek. “seriously. go.”
he chuckled to himself, kissing the top of your head, uttering a soft “i love you,” before being swept away.
“i love you too.” you mouthed, returning your attention back to lily. she was in awe of how you and lando behaved, carving such a rugged, playful boy into a man of posture and mannerisms that were only reflected by your good nature.
“what?”
“nothing…” she looked away.
“lily.”
“you’ve got that man on a leash,” she broke into a fit of giggles. you looked back to where they were walking out. lando had been looking for you, then at you. he gave a wave, you returned it, then looked back at lily.
“i prefer the term ‘free-roaming.’”
the race was coming to an end with a single lap left. lando led the race with a twenty-two second lead, and your hands were clasped tightly together with your headset on. you listened carefully to his radio messages, sassy and revving, and had your eyes locked onto the screen in front of you. with lily by your side, the two of you were anxiously awaiting the end.
your face suddenly appeared on screen, displaying your glistening eyes, perfectly done makeup and hair. a chic smile grew on your cheeks. you turned towards the camera man and allotted a small wave. your name appeared under the screen, lando norris’ partner.
god…
was there anything more prideful than that?
surely there was, but it didn’t matter to you. you were there to support your boyfriend, lando, your lando, and it was more than enough to see that you were recognized as that.
the checkered flag appeared and lando was on the headline for crossing. you had to clutch your heart, hoping to grip it from the inside out to slow its beating, and it didn’t cease when his mcl38 zipped past the flag.
there was an eruption of cheers throughout the garage and you were swarmed with love by the fellow mechanics and lily, too, who was happy for you to witness such a grand victory. a more than well earned victory.
a second one in the books for him. you couldn’t have been happier.
the podium gathering didn’t take long, and you managed to be at the front of the barricade, shoved forward by the team. you stood there, graceful and beautiful as he always saw you, and you were the loudest to clap and cheer as he walked out from the cool down room.
“your winner, lando norris…!” and you couldn’t help the tears that fell down your cheeks, the camera picking up your emotional feedback on the big screen. his eyes caught to it from the bannister, stepping up onto the tallest podium, and found you right at the front. his heart melted, dripped a red hot flame that burned for you. to see you there for him, emotional above all, solidified his feelings. what he wanted in his future.
you. you above anything else. you above racing, his career, his everything. he had nothing if you weren’t by his side.
he took off his pirelli hat and let the national anthem play. the camera panned away from you then to zak brown. you swayed gently to the anthem, lost in your own world of loving him. you saw him through clear glasses, though he was always your rose. there was nothing more that you wanted in the future than to be with him. you and lando.
after his attributed champagne pop, the crowd dissipated from the pit lane and you engaged in conversations with different women, friends, and coworkers of mclaren. you were jovial with your presence, engaged as much as you could be, though your thoughts kept tracing back to him. lando, lando, lando.
you ended your evening in conversations with the ferrari women— alexandra, rebecca, and one of charles’ friends, marta. you’re a recent acquaintance, meeting her only just a few moments ago. she was noticeably pregnant, and you wondered if that was just the recurring theme of the day.
“how far along are you?” rebecca chimed in.
“about twenty weeks, i think.” she smiled, holding her bump and leaning back into one of her heels to get a more comfortable angle.
“half way there! are you excited?” you asked her, sipping your sparkling water.
“of course,” she grimaced, though there was joy behind her eyes. “it can be hard, but it’s worth it. always worth it to see my husband with my daughter, and now it’ll be brand new with this babe.”
you gave her a heart-warming smile.
“they kick every so often—” she grimaced again, reeling her face into a tight knot. “like right now. do you want to feel?” she was looking at you. it took you a second to understand that she was referring to you, but you jumped at the opportunity.
“are you sure…?”
marta nodded. “put your hand here,” she placed your hand on her right side. you waited a moment before there was a small lurch beneath your palm. you looked up at her in pure disbelief, marveled by such a feeling. you wondered what it’d feel like to feel your own baby kick.
“so…” alexandra leered mischievously, “do you plan on having children? with lando?”
is everyone asking that today?
you stood up straight, embarrassed by the question, and brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear. “for sure. there’s no one else i want. whenever the time is right.”
“he’d be such a good dad.” alexandra added, and you couldn’t agree more.
“you should’ve seen him earlier with penelope—” the girls were reeling at your story. “making bracelets with her. almost tripped over my own dress,” you covered your mouth to laugh, attempting to keep your voice down.
“someone has baby fever.” marta commented.
“ugh,” rebecca groaned. “you two are picturesque. alex and i were just talking about it.”
“oh?” you wished to know more by their insinuation. it wasn’t often that you listened to anything about you or lando’s relationship. half of the time it was negative comments from fans across social media, and you didn’t want the other half to get to your head. you knew you were lucky as is, the least you could do was stay humble.
“ohhhh most definitely.” alexandra nodded. “you’ve been together for what— ever? we’re waiting for an engagement post.”
you were floored. it has been a good amount of time. “so am i,” it came as a laugh. you wondered if lando thought about it. if the thought ever crossed his mind— the possibility of you becoming his wife.
it did.
he was watching you. he’d been done with his interviews for a good ten minutes now, but he was gripped by the scene unfolding before him. he had distracted himself by glancing at his phone, pretending to be scrolling through notifications. but he was staring. hard.
your hand was so tender-loving as it grazed marta’s baby bump. you looked up at her with a graceful smile, asking her important questions about her pregnancy. why were you so interested?
fuck, he hoped the answer he wanted was what you were thinking.
you, pregnant in your floral dresses, pleated gowns, traipsing around the halls of your joint home. barefoot, glowing, effervescent. he could see it now. the vision coming to life, coming to fruition from just a mere fantasy. he felt his dick twitch in his pants, his groin running hot.
he overheard the conversation, too.
“do you plan on having children? with lando?”
for sure. there’s no one else i’d want.
fuuuuck. lando had to turn around, attempting to calm himself down. his entire body was aflame, an eternal gloss of bliss for wanting you. needing you. he needed to feel you. your touch. your skin beneath him, the way you curl effortlessly against the shape of his body.
yeah, he’s fucked.
after a few calming deep breaths, he was at least presentable. with his calmed down cock, he immediately made a beeline in your direction. he wanted—no, needed to get his hands around you as soon as possible. it was a world-ending feeling that suffocated him, gripped him by the throat.
you heard him approach before you saw him. lando’s hands were warm around your hips as he pulled you close. you felt the outline of his cock in his pants as he jut his hips forward. you turned your head over your shoulder, glancing up at him.
his nose found a home in the curve of your neck. you giggled when you felt his stubble tickle your skin, a hand coming instinctively to hold the side of his face tight against your skin. he breathed soundly against you, finding eternal peace of mind plastered against your body.
“it was nice seeing you alex, rebecca.” you began to bid your farewells. “marta, it was a pleasure to meet you.” marta leaned in for a hug, which pulled you away from the warmth of lando’s body. you felt like a snail ripped from its shell— hollow, cold.
“the same for you,” pregnancy looked good on her. though, you can’t recall the last time you’ve seen her without a baby blooming inside her. “if you ever need advice…alex has my number.”
you blushed, feeling lando’s hand around your lower belly tense. “thank you. i’ll be in touch.” you glance towards rebecca and alexandra, following lando’s pace back to the car.
lando’s eyes were hot as they drilled holes into the side of your head. you could feel it, though you weren’t even looking at him. “i can feel your urge to talk, lan.”
he laughed, holding your hand tight in his. “no. no, it’s nothing.”
you stopped dead in your tracks, pulling your hand from his, crossing your arms over your chest.
“okay, okay,” he apologized, taking your hand back into his own, bringing it to his lips to kiss. his lips were warm and wet against your skin. your breath hitched.
“well, go on, then.”
“this is the congratulations i get? damn, baby, you’re rugged.”
you shoved his face away, beginning to walk back to the car once more. “you know i’m proud. don’t be silly, now.”
“i know, i know,” there was a brief silence. “you can show me in other ways.”
“lando!” you gasped, and he broke into a fit of laughter. “dirty bastard.” you mumbled.
“what was that, baby?”
“nothing. nothing. just like what you wanted to tell me, i guess.” two can play at this game. you heard him scoff, but ultimately relent.
“alright, alright. i just…” he became shy with the tone of his voice. you could recognize it instantly. “heard your conversation with the girls, is all.”
you attempted your best effort to still your facial expressions from annoyance, shock, embarrassment, and all of the fucking above.
“you heard…all of it?”
“the gist.”
you tried to cover your face to shield yourself from the world. god, that was your fucking nightmare. you hadn’t ever even touched upon a subject like that with him before. and now he had heard it from you talking to your girlfriends? oh, you just felt like the worst girlfriend in the world right now.
“fuck. i didn’t mean to—”
“no, baby,” he opened the car door for you to slip into the passenger seat. you stepped in, gripping his forearm to sit down.
when he climbed in himself and turned over the engine, you shifted to face him. before you could even open your mouth to speak, he cut you off.
“i want kids, too, you know. with you.”
“oh.” a weight lifted from your shoulders in that moment, and then you felt utterly stupid for thinking that he would’ve reacted badly. this is your lando you’re talking to. a man you can share anything with. “you do?”
he looked flabbergasted. “you’re joking, right?”
you shot your hands up in defense. “i don’t know! children aren’t exactly…temporary. i just— i didn’t know if you thought of me—”
“you’re permanent, love.” his hand wrapped around your thigh as he pulled out of the driver’s lot, whipping past the fans that were keen on snapping a picture of him.
though you’ve known that, deep down, it still hit you like the first time he told you that he loved you. a jaw-dropping epiphany that had been right in front of you the whole time. you’d been short-sighted, enjoying every moment that you had with him, and had become unknowing about the future you’ve been perpetuating with him.
you covered his hand with your own, playing with the bracelets around his wrist. the charm bracelet ‘daddy’ dangled between your fingers, rolling the beads over and over again.
“you’d make a good daddy, wouldn’t you?” you said the words under your breath, but even he could hear them like you’d shouted them in his face. he tightened his grip around your thigh.
“don’t say things like that,” he shook his head, eyes locked on the road ahead.
the air became heavy between you two. when wasn’t it? not only did passion run through your veins, but heinous desire breathed life to your souls.
“why?” you stroked the top of his hand with your nails. “you heard what i said to the girls.” his head lolled against the back rest. “what’s different now?”
you felt the car accelerate. it vibrated the cushion you were nestled atop of, sending shockwaves through your cunt.
“driving me fucking nuts, darling.”
you knew you were. it was the secret to your relationship— the two of you understanding what made you tick. seethe with lust until there was no other option for you to climb him like a tree.
it didn’t take long before he reached the hotel, pulling up to the front. you were getting your things to get up, but he was lost on his phone, pretending to be busy. “coming?” you asked.
“pfft—” you could see him roll his eyes through the rearview mirror. “i wish. give me a second.” you couldn’t help but huff to yourself under your breath, stepping out of the car with your heels clinking to the ground.
with your purse over your shoulder you stepped up onto the curb, but was distracted by a small voice echoing over your shoulder.
down the sidewalk was a mother and a stroller. you smirked lowly, taking only the few steps it’d take to reach the mother and child.
“oh my gosh,” you squealed. the mother was taken back, but by your demeanor and eyes on her baby, she returned a smile. by her pink bonnet and bunny swath, you knew she was the cutest thing you’d ever laid eyes on. “she is just the cutest thing!”
“thank you,” the woman said.
“she looks just like her mama,” you heard lando’s car door open, most definitely within earshot. “don’t you, sweet thing? yes you do!” you cooed at the baby, who erupted in a fit of louder giggles and mumbles.
the mother was flushed, but happy. “you’re too kind. you’re good with children? do you have any of your own?”
jackpot..!!
you clutched your purse as you stood up straight. you played into your theatrics, “oh gosh, i wish! my husband and i have been trying for ages, but he’s just so busy with work…”
the woman tsked with disappointment for you. “you’d make a beautiful mother,”
“you think so?”
she nodded her affirmation.
“that’s so sweet of you.” you were really milking this scene, especially that you knew lando was listening.
“is that your husband there?” she pointed to over your shoulder. and there he was, your husband, watching the two of you from behind the ajar car door.
“mmm, yes, it is.” you offered a cordial wave to him. he stuck two fingers up for a lazy wave, waiting for you to return to him. “i should go. it was a pleasure, ma’am. your baby is adorable.”
she nodded a thanks, and you took your sweet time walking back to the car. you could hear lando tapping the windshield incessantly. before his head dipped down back into the car he called, “get back in.”
you…admit, you were confused. brows furrowed, you opened the passenger side door and bent down, “why—?”
“get in the car,” your name was a rumble in his chest. you still didn’t know what he was doing nor going, and your stubborn self wouldn’t settle for a verbal answer.
you took too long for him. gripping your arm, he pulled you into the passenger seat, and you landed on your ass with a ‘thump’.
he fired up the engine again and pulled out of the traffic circle of the hotel. he radiated with heat— you could feel it from where you sat. “where are we going?”
he didn’t answer you.
you crossed your arms and legs, looking out the window. the area was unknown to you, but lando always seemed like he knew where he was going.
it took only a minute for him to pull into an empty level of a parking garage, dimly lit with only one overhead light at the entrance of the ramp. he put the car in park.
“what are we—”
you couldn’t finish your sentence until you were on his lap, hands gripping your waist so tightly that you had to gasp for air.
“husband?”
oh
oh…!
well, this was a change you welcomed with open arms.
he lowered the seat back until you were straddled atop of him, fingers aimlessly toiling with the zipper of his jeans.
“don’t know what you’re—”
he snapped upward, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “baby,” he breathed, and you shivered. “what do you want?”
your hips naturally moved back and forth against his own, dress hiked well above your stomach. his hand snaked between your legs, feeling the wet patch in your underwear. he hummed when you didn’t reply, flicking his finger upward to graze your clit.
you mewled.
“what was that?”
your hand twisted around the hem of his shirt. you were already breathless, clenching around nothing except the sound of his words.
“tell me,” he muttered, staring up at your disheveled state. he made quick work of sliding your panties to the side, massaging the folds of your cunt between his fingers. you continued your writhing against him.
“want you,” was what you managed to breathe out, hips rutting against his palm. he tsked, but allowed you this moment. a moment for him to bask in the way that you move your hips, writhe against his clothed cock that was egregiously hardening by the second and each amount of pressure you applied.
he slid his fingers in and out of you with ultra maneuvering, in and out, all around. he was a mastermind when it came to feeling you up, exploring you both on the outside, and the in. you were in heaven, ultimately, when he curled his fingers so deeply upon thrusting them. your cunt tightened so viciously around him that he groaned, his head falling back and his hardened cock thrusting upward. to no avail, his dick was strained against the cloth of his pants.
“fuck,” he cussed, curling his fingers over and over again. your body began to shiver, and only began to fall from grace when his thumb traced against your clit. stimulation grew hotter and hotter, until you let out a piercing moan from the depths of your throat. he angled his fingers differently, making you squirm.
“lando!” you breathed, feeling your climax creeping up on you faster than you could even blink. your core tightened, a coil of veracious flames churning around each other manifesting a slew of energy that released sparks from your nerves. your folds were inflamed, puffy, beating hot that you couldn’t think straight. lando was touching you with his other hand anywhere that he could reach. he palmed your breasts through your dress, twisted a nipple to earn a delicious squeal.
“come on, sweet thing,” he encouraged you with that stupid lopsided smile of his, you were looking down on him, sweat beading at his forehead, pupils blown dark and wide. his hand that was groping your breast moved upward, threading around the column of your throat. “show daddy what you’re made of.”
his hand tightened, and you felt the coil snap. he continued to pump his fingers in and out, maneuvering so perfectly, hitting that exact spot with precision.
he knew you came when your eyes rolled back into your head, legs quivering around his waist. god, you’re a sexy thing.
his hand loosened from around your neck, dropping to your chest, fiddling with the van cleef necklace he had gifted you. it reeked of possession, marking you as his with the “l.n.” initials engraved on the back of the golden surface.
the moment of bliss passed before he was pulling the zipped down from your dress and throwing it from over your head. your panties were next, though the fabric was thin as is. there you were, bare and glistening, before your so-called ‘husband’ as you had worded it. he wouldn’t forget it, a spark igniting within him that was lit by the phrase leaving your tongue. he didn’t think that it would affect him so much—
but it did.
he made quick work of his own pants, shoving them down to his knees beneath you, breathless and needy.
you gripped the hem of his shirt. he lifted his arms to hasten the process, and the shirt went to the back seat. with his skin exposed, you couldn’t help but run your hands along his tan, toned chest. it made you dripping wet, though he was barely touching you now.
with your skin atop of his, carnage was sure to ensue. he took a drag of his fingers against your wet cunt and brought it to his lips. he sucked on them, releasing with a ‘pop.’ your mouth hung open in anticipation for what he was going to do next. he always kept you on your toes.
but this…this is not what you expected.
he took a ring from his index finger, plated in silver, and slid it onto your ring finger on your left hand. the wedding finger.
it stuck to your sweaty palm, sure enough to not slip off.
“let’s make it official then, pretty girl.”
you sat upon him astonished, looking down at the adornment that he had given to you. it dazzled on your finger.
“if you’re my wife, what does that make me?”
the words trembled from your lips, thighs tightening around his own. you could feel his dick sprung to life against your backside. “my husband.”
“good, baby, you learn fast.”
you gulped, finally taking a look at him from his propped upright position. he was downright smitten with you, guzzling everything about you inside of him. you were his, so much fucking so, that he was going to ruin you. and he didn’t even feel bad for wanting it.
“my husband…” you repeated, lowering your face down to meet his own. he smelled so good—a mix of sweat and his cologne.
his hand tangled into your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail to meet your eye level.
“makes me fucking crazy when y’say it…”
you knew that was the truth. you’d known the minute you sat down in the car. his demeanor had changed, shifted to something darker that you didn’t quite understand. it was insane enough as is that you’d discovered so many things about him within a short period of time.
“husband, daddy…what’s the difference?” you cooed, kissing up and down his neck. he groaned, landing a smack on your ass that had you giggling.
“‘ll just make you a mommy if you keep throwin’ that word ‘round.”
you grinned ear to ear. against his cheek, you took a deep breath in, before letting go.
“daddy.”
if you’ve ever made a good decision in your life, this has to be the best. a switch flipped. gears started to turn in his head. the spark plug burst into flames.
you were his undoer,
the key to his shackled restraint,
the sun to his universe.
it was always you. you’d been right in front of him for the past two years. two years to get to this point. two years for the woman he loved most in this world to be sucking his neck whispering ‘daddy’ into his ear.
lando sat upright in the seat. with a hand at the back of your head, he forced eye contact with you. this was different. this look. you could feel it in your heart, your folds, as they began to beat synchronously. life with him was euphoria, and sex had been the serendipitous release for both of you.
but seeking the future together?
heaven incarnate.
despite being locked inside such a tight space, lando managed to swap your position with a suave move. you were on your back, shocked by his carnal rampage, as he hooked your legs upward. your toes scathed the ceiling of the car, pressed deep into the metal chassis.
“kiss me,” you demanded with the breath that you could take. he didn’t waste a second, leaning down to your lips and capturing you with the most breathtaking press that he could muster. his tongue and your own fought for dominance over one another; you lost, quickly, unable to match his revered pace.
he wanted to eat you from top to bottom. devour your insides, carry you with him every day of his life. you would be his, one way or another, and he didn’t care how it was.
lucky enough, you were more than willing to be his bride, his lover, his person.
because he was yours.
then he was inside of you. braving the treachery of your tight walls, he hissed when the tip of his cock slipped through your folds. you’d been dripping on the leather seat.
“fuck, baby…” his head fell to the crevice of your neck and collarbone.
“oh my goddd…” the moan you both let out was terribly lewd, grotesque, even, with how he didn’t start a pace. you both savored this sweet moment of lust, passion, and a figurative toast to a lifelong commitment to fucking one another.
with each thrust he took, he aimed to make a statement. deeper and deeper he penetrated you, his cock crafted of divine measure with how he quartered your g-spot.
you could never stay still beneath him. it had him on edge the way you squirmed. dare say it was one of the most favorite things about you, though the list would be never-ending. you shiver from pleasure, leaning into him as your cunt squelches beneath you.
echoes of moans bounce off the interior of the car, whilst a smile of greed and possession conceives on his own cheeks. the angle he has you at is deeper than any that you’ve had before— it left no room for noncommittal nature, no room for you to complain about wanting him closer, more, more, more.
“y’feel me here?” his hand rest on your lower belly, your womb, as he applied pressure. you do feel him there. the indent of his cock is poignant, bulging out from the skin.
“mhm…!” you whine, trying to keep your mouth shut from the onslaught of moans pouring out.
his attention turned to your tits as he swallowed a nipple whole with his tongue, sucking feverishly at the sensitive bud. it had you weak, dribbling to puddy.
he could only think about how you’d look pregnant. swollen tits, round belly, glowing with his child.
“this what you wanted?” he grunted, his pace quickening. you were too dumb to speak, a droplet of drool leaking from your mouth. “hm? fuck you—fuck, fill you up?”
your back arched at the sentence, not knowing that his words could have such an arousing effect on you. this arousal was different. the way you clench around him was different. your actions spoke a lot louder than your words.
“yeah? i can feel you, darling.” sounds of skin slapping and your hoarse voice could only be heard. he fucked you so good, treated you even better. fuck it, you’d rather be pregnant than anything else.
“please, please…” you didn’t know what you were pleading for, in truth— he was already fucking you like he’d been in a rut.
“yeah? that what you want? want a baby?”
your head nodded furiously up and down, tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks. lando bent down to kiss them away, followed by a capturing of your lips. he swallowed your breaths, your moans. he trailed kisses down the column of your throat; your collarbones, breasts, nipples, nothing went untouched by his mouth.
“god…these…” he muttered against your tits, voice sending shockwaves through your body. “imagine how big they’d be.” he managed to chuckle to himself. “swollen and beautiful,” he kissed the top of your abdomen.
“lando…”
his head shot up from his daze.
“the time is right. please, please—” your words seemed to hit him like a truck. the foreplay had turned reality, and he was more than ready to lurch into fate.
“what, pretty girl?”
your face flushed, biting your lip. “give me a baby, need it—lan, need it so bad.” your hand found the back of his neck, tugging on the strands of his hair.
he tsked, his pace evening out to a level throttle. your lips formed a sweet pout, and he stroked your chin with his index finger. “give you?” he mocked. “oh, don’t think that’s how we ask, do we?”
“lan…please, please, can i have your baby? need it so bad lando, need it…” you swallowed your breath. “daddy…wanna make you a daddy…please.”
it was more than enough for him. “atta girl.” he grunted, deepening his lackluster thrusts into thrilling rides on his cock. “y’learn fast…kids ‘r gonna be so smart.”
“yes, yes! so good, lan.” you heaved, the heat in your cunt finding a boiling point, and he felt it by how tight you became around him.
“go on, baby, take it. be a good girl and take it all.” you’d do anything to hear your lando call you a good girl. it had been more than enough to send you over the edge into a spiraling orgasm that had slick seeping around his cock. your vision whitened, and you could only see the shadow of your ‘husband’ through the light.
with sloppy thrusts, lando came with ease. he didn’t pull out urgently, letting his cum soak inside of you. he peppered kisses along your ankles, your calves, and let them fall to the seat.
out of breath, your chests rose and fell at a rapid pace. lando’s forehead connected with your own, and through the haze of post-sex, he smiled at you.
you smiled back. the two of you broke into a laugh.
“fuckin’ knew that was gonna happen today.” he commented lazily into your chest. a hand of yours threaded through his brown curls.
“your mastermind plan to babytrap me.”
he raised a brow. “did you plan on leaving?”
you gave him a knowing look. “not in the slightest.”
he became embarrassed and sheepish as he hid his face into your ribs. “no chance of it, now.”
you chuckled, flexing your fingers to see the ring still there. “i want a real proposal, by the way.”
his head shot up. “what? this wasn’t good enough?”
you palmed his face with one hand, and tugged the back of his curled head with the other. “bastard.”
it only took you two ten minutes to get your clothes back on from such a leisurely excursion from the empty parking garage. covered in his spit, sweat, and cum, you didn’t feel….dirty.
when he finally pulled up to the valet and opened the door for you, you stepped out as graciously as possible. though your hair was a tangled mess— you tried your best. lucky enough it was late enough to where minimal paparazzi were gathered. thank god.
you shifted on your feet, shimmying the dress down, but lando came to your rescue. he pulled the dress down where it was crumpled at the back, caught between the hem of your soaked underwear.
“that was a rental, wasn’t it?” you pointed out, looking over your shoulder.
“they should auction it.”
you spun around and laughed in his face, gagged by the ego he has. “you have a big head.”
“need all that room for you.”
“cheesy.”
lando’s eyes lit up— though exhausted from the day and your antics, the sun still rose for him— “almost forgot—” he reached into his pocket whilst you waited patiently.
he pulled out a bracelet.
a friendship bracelet.
“thought it suited you.” he put it around your wrist, and you analyzed it clearly. in white, capitalized letters it read:
“MOMMY”
“you really had this thing planned.” you were impressed.
he shifted on his heels, throwing his hands up as if saying ‘what can i say?’ “p thinks you’re pregnant now.”
you gasped. “lando!”
“i mean…hopefully.” he winked as you fiddled with the jewelry, still not bothering to take off the ring from your finger.
“well…” you brought a finger to your lips, thinking, “we have to be certain, don’t we?”
lando was catching your drift as you walked backwards towards the entrance of the hotel, luring him in with your charisma. “perhaps…”
“so…we need to try again.” he wasn’t going to argue with that. “and again.” or that. “and again, for good measure.”
“you’re gonna kill me, baby.” he whined, chasing you up the steps. you squealed, running forward. inside the elevator you two went, clicking the floor for your room.
after further inspection, lando’s brows furrowed after he glanced over you. “what?”
he covered his mouth to shield his devious smile.
“what, lando?”
he coughed to hide his amusement, but it was a very bad act. “you’re…”
“what?”
“you’re dripping.”
you looked down at your thighs and saw the glistening reflection of his cum seeping out of you. fuck. maybe the first time was the charm, but you hoped it wasn’t.
Prompt: Piastri x Norris!reader where their relationship is secret
Warnings: none
The low hum of the paddock was finally quieting down when Y/n slipped into Oscar’s driver room. The air still smelled faintly of heat and fuel, and she could hear the distant celebration from the McLaren hospitality area — Lando’s laughter carrying faintly through the wall. Y/n sat on the small couch, knees pulled to her chest, waiting. She knew exactly what kind of mood Oscar would be in. He’d driven brilliantly tonight, but once again, the team had made their priorities clear, favouring her brother when it mattered most.
She didn’t blame Lando, of course. But she knew how much it ate at Oscar to be treated like a second driver.
The door finally swung open.
Oscar stood there, still in his race suit, jaw tight and eyes dark. But as soon as he saw her sitting there, his shoulders eased just a little. His gaze softened, though his voice was low and tired when he spoke. "I’m sorry, Y/n… but you need to go." She blinked, confusion furrowing her brow. "What do you mean I need to go?"
Oscar didn’t answer right away. He began peeling off his overalls, tying then around his waist. "You should go celebrate with your brother. The team’s out… they’re celebrating the Constructors’ Championship." Her heart sank. "Why aren’t you there?" He let out a humourless laugh. "Wasn’t invited, it would seem."
"Oh Oscar. I'm sorry." She whispered, the guilt in her chest tightening. "Don’t be sorry." He said quickly, glancing at her with that small, exhausted smile of his. "You didn’t do anything wrong."
"I know." She said softly. "But I am sorry anyway." He sighed and finally sat down next to her, his body slumping against the couch. For a moment, he just stared at the floor before leaning his head against her shoulder. She instinctively rested her cheek against the top of his head, her fingers brushing the side of his neck gently. "I just want the season to be over." He murmured, eyes closed. "So I can stay at home for a bit." She smiled faintly, tracing her thumb along the seam of his suit. "I’d still like for you to bring home the silverware, though."
That earned her a small grin. "Regardless of who wins right now-" He said, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. "You’re going to be seeing it anyway." She giggled. "I know, I’m just trying to be comforting." Oscar’s grin softened into something warmer. "In all honesty, if I win it or not… I just want a week after the championship where we can lie in bed and do absolutely nothing for once." Y/n let out a soft laugh. "I like that idea."
"Good." He said, voice low and sincere. Then, after a pause, he broke the silence. "We’ll have to tell Lando about us at some stage, you know." Her smile faltered slightly, and she sighed. "We’ve been keeping it from him for two years, Oscar. He still thinks we’re just really good friends from karting. Why change that now?"
"Because I love you." He said simply, his hand finding hers. "And I don’t want to creep around it anymore." Her chest tightened. Not with nerves this time, but with something softer, steadier. She looked at him for a long moment before she whispered. "Then we can do it today if you want." He nodded slowly. "We’ll start dropping hints when we go celebrate." A grin tugged at her lips. "A soft launch, huh?" He chuckled quietly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
