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LN1 - OUT OF BOUNDS

pairing: Lando Norris x Reader (second-person pov!!)

contents: fake dating, friends to lovers, pr nightmare, slow burn, mutual pining, flustered lando, paddock politics, soft touches, late night conversations (bc why not), shared hoodies.

word Count: 3.8k

synopsis: When a hot mic joke on a live stream gets twisted into a massive tabloid rumor about Lando Norris dating McLaren’s junior media manager, the team’s PR department decides the easiest way to handle the press is to play along. It’s a simple arrangement: pretend to date through the European leg of the season to shift the media focus. But when the cameras stop flashing and you’re left alone in his Monaco apartment, the lines between what’s fake and what’s real begin to blur.

author's note: hey guys! first of all, i am so, so sorry for completely disappearing for like a whole month. i promise i didn't abandon you! 😭 the reason for my absence is actually amazing news: i got into my dream college! 🎉 i was so incredibly happy (and honestly in shock) that my brain just completely reset. between celebrating, screaming, and having to run around like crazy to sort out all the paperwork, send in documents, and organize my life, i completely forgot to update things here. but the chaos has finally settled and i am officially back! i actually have some ideas and recipes already prepared and waiting for you guys. thank you so much for your patience and for supporting me on my first post!! hope you enjoy the read! xx

#f1 fanfiction #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #fake dating #friends to lovers #mutual pining #fake dating to real lovers #idiots in love #slow burn #mutual pining but make it painfully obvious #happy ending #he is madly in love your honor #fake relationship trope but they both forgot they were acting

apartment #12 ♡ lando norris (pt. 2)

pairing: lando norris x reader

Your upstairs neighbor is unbelievably loud. One day he decides to leave you a note to apologize, but will that be enough?

warnings: fluff, angst, long fic

note: hello ♡ after many requests here is the long-awaited part 2 of apartment #12. apologies in advance for how much you will scream at y/n... in my defense - i did too :) - dean

pt.1 | masterlist | sign up for my taglist

The next note arrives sometime after midnight. You don't hear it. Instead, you find it the following morning tucked neatly beneath your apartment door, folded into the same careful square it always is.

Your coffee is still brewing. You stand barefoot in the hallway, hair still damp from your shower, reading it before you've even remembered to put your glasses on.

because now i know you're pretty.

#lando norris one shot #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

Have finally finsihed drafting/editing free fall and the last three parts will come starting friday with chapter 8

After the free fall series do we want

u decide!!!

20 chapter oscar x agent series

10 chapter lando x max fretwells gf series?

Voting ended onJul 17

#f1 #lando norris #lando x reader #oscar piastri #oscar x reader

Lando's Most Precious One

(Dark) Lando Norris x Reader

POV: You were never going to give up trying to escape. And he, was never going to stop pursuing his beautiful lady and bringing her back home.

Warnings: Dark-ish, lovesick, obsessive, dependent and yearner Lando.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

You move with a waddling gait along the dark street, clutching the loose raincoat tightly in front of you to hide your pregnancy.

Your heart is pounding against your ribcage, but not out of fear, it’s from the adrenaline and (unfortunately) that sweet thrill of knowing you’re about to fail again.

You hear calm footsteps following you just a few meters behind. You know who it is; there is no need to look back.

#Lando Norris x reader #Lando Norris x fem reader #Lando x reader #Lando Norris #Formula1 #F1 x reader #F1 imagines #F1 oneshots #Mclaren #Dark Lando Norris #Yandere Lando Norris #Mafia F1 #Mafia Lando Norris #x reader #x fem reader #reader insert #Lando Norris x you

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ TOAST!

Part 2 of 3

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Synopsis: Lando’s least favorite repeat call becomes the one he secretly starts hoping for when the woman living in the “toaster house” makes every emergency a little harder to leave.

Pairing: Firefighter!Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of house fires, grief, and loss of loved ones (reader mentions her grandparents who passed away).

Words: 2,584

Author’s note: Hiiiii! This one is a little longer, but I had so much fun writing it that I could not bring myself to cut it down. I hope you enjoy reading their little moments as much as I enjoyed writing them! Also, a hug to anyone dealing with the loss of a loved one (like I am). I hope you’re being gentle with yourself and taking care of yourself. ♡

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ The problem was exactly where you’d said it was.

A section of old wiring behind the living room wall had overheated, likely from years of handling more than it was ever meant to. Lando had seen it plenty of times before. Old houses had their quirks, and sometimes those quirks turned into something that sent a fire engine racing down the road in the middle of the night.

He crouched near the wall while one of the other firefighters checked the surrounding area, making sure there wasn’t any damage spreading somewhere they couldn’t see. The house was quiet now, apart from the occasional creak of old wood settling and the rain tapping steadily against the windows.

You stayed nearby, watching them work.

He’d noticed that about you over the last few calls. You never hovered close enough to get in the way, never asked a hundred questions while they were trying to figure something out, but you were always there. Curious. A little worried. Like you needed to see with your own eyes that everything was actually okay before you could relax.

“You can sit down, you know,” he said after a while, glancing back at you.

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve been standing in the same spot for ten minutes.”

You looked down at yourself, then back at him. “Have I?”

“Yeah.”

You huffed out something like a laugh and finally sank onto the arm of the sofa, mug abandoned somewhere on the side table. “Force of habit. I keep thinking if I look worried enough, the house will behave.”

“Has that worked so far?”

“You’re literally in my living room for the fourth time. What do you think?”

Lando huffed, testing a section of exposed wire with careful fingers before nodding to himself, satisfied. “Good point.”

Oscar called something from the other room about the fuse box, and Lando answered without looking up, easy and automatic, the kind of shorthand that came from working alongside someone long enough to not need full sentences. You watched the exchange with faint curiosity.

“Have you two always worked together?”

“Four years now.” Lando reached for his kit, pulling out a roll of electrical tape. “Feels longer some days.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Depends on the day. Ask me after this shift.”

That earned a real laugh, quiet but genuine, and something in Lando’s chest eased at the sound of it, like he’d been waiting to hear it since he walked in.

He worked in silence for a few minutes after that, aware in the kind of way he didn’t examine too closely of exactly where you were sitting, exactly how the mug had gone cold in your hands, exactly how the rain outside had softened into something gentler than before.

“There,” he said eventually, taping off the last section. “That should hold till the electrician can come take a proper look tomorrow. No more buzzing, no more flickering.”

“No more fire trucks at midnight?”

“Can’t promise that. This house seems to have something against me.”

You smiled down at your hands, and when you looked up, something had softened in your expression, more than politeness, less than anything you’d say out loud yet. “Thank you. Actually. Not just for tonight, for not making me feel like an idiot every time I call.”

Lando straightened, meeting your eyes properly for the first time all night. “You’re not an idiot. Old wiring’s old wiring. Not your fault.”

“Still. You didn’t have to be so,” you gestured vaguely, searching for the word. “Nice about it.”

“Would you have preferred I wasn’t?”

“No,” you admitted, and the honesty of it caught you both off guard. “No, I really wouldn’t have.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it stretched a beat too long, charged with something neither of you moved to name.

Then Oscar appeared in the doorway, took one look at the two of you, and grinned like Christmas had come early. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I was going to say,” Oscar said, entirely too pleased with himself, “that for a man who ‘finished up two minutes ago,’ you’re taking your sweet time saying goodbye.”

Lando didn’t answer, mostly because there wasn’t a version of the sentence that didn’t make it worse. He climbed into the truck instead, staring straight ahead while Oscar settled into the seat beside him, still grinning like this was the best part of his week.

The engine pulled away from the curb, rain streaking sideways across the windscreen. Oscar let the silence sit for exactly as long as it took to be unbearable.

“You didn’t even ask her name tonight,” he said, far too casually for how pointed it was.

Lando’s jaw ticked. “I know her name.”

“Didn’t say that.”

Lando didn’t answer that either, and this time the silence said plenty on its own.

The fifth call came almost two weeks later, and this time there was real smoke (not much, just enough to blacken the wall behind the stove where a spark from the same tired wiring had caught the edge of a dish towel someone had left too close). By the time Engine 81 arrived, you’d already smothered it with a lid, and you met them at the door looking more furious at the house than afraid.

“It tried to kill my kitchen towel,” you said, before anyone could ask. “I’m considering pressing charges.”

“Against the house?” Lando asked.

“Against whoever wired it in 1974 and called it a day.”

Captain Zak Brown, hanging back near the truck, caught Lando’s expression before he had a chance to arrange it into something more professional, and filed it away with the quiet satisfaction of a man who didn’t miss much.

By the sixth call (a breaker that blew hard enough to spark visibly through the panel) Lando had stopped pretending to himself that this was just part of the job. He’d catch himself at the station, hosing down the truck or restocking the medical kit, wondering what you were doing. Whether the electrician had ever actually come by. Whether you’d started keeping the fire extinguisher somewhere more accessible like he’d suggested, half-joking, the last time.

He learned your last name almost by accident, glancing at the incident report Oscar filled out at the scene. He learned you were in your final year at university when you mentioned, offhand, that you’d be pulling an all-nighter for a deadline the same night the smoke detector had gone off for the fourth time that month (“brilliant timing, as always”). He learned you lived alone when Oscar asked, casually, if there was anyone else in the house they should account for, and you said no, just you, like it was nothing.

He learned about the tea because you always had a mug of it, no matter the hour, no matter how bad the night had been. He learned about the records because he spotted the shelf of them by the window on the seventh call, and made the mistake of asking, and got a twenty-minute answer he hadn’t expected and hadn’t minded in the slightest.

Back at the station, it became a running joke he could feel building momentum he had no way to stop.

“Chertsey Road again?” Zak would say, deadpan, scanning the call sheet, and somehow always find a reason to look directly at Lando when he said it.

“It’s not funny,” Lando said, more than once, to increasingly less effect each time.

“It’s a little funny,” Oscar said, mimicking Lando’s own words back at him with visible glee.

“The toaster house has a crush on him,” someone from B shift said, one afternoon, and Zak didn’t even bother denying it, just grinned into his coffee.

“I think,” Zak said, “that Lando here has a crush on the toaster house.”

“I have a crush on nothing,” Lando said. “It’s faulty wiring. It’s a coincidence.”

“Seven coincidences,” Oscar pointed out.

“Old houses have old wiring.”

“You know her records collection alphabetically.”

Lando did not have a response to that one, mostly because it was true, and everyone at the table knew it, and the collective silence that followed was somehow louder than if they’d all laughed at once.

He didn’t mind it, not really. Not the way he minded most things people teased him about. He just didn’t have a good answer for why a house two miles off his usual route had started to feel like a place he looked forward to being called to, or why he’d started noticing things like the exact shade the sky turned right before a call came in, the particular creak of your front step, the way you said his name like you’d been testing it out before you said it, that had nothing to do with wiring at all.

The eighth call, he told you, without quite meaning to, that you were clever for spotting the burning smell before the alarm even went off.

“Smart girl,” he said, easy, the way he might’ve said it to anyone.

You went quiet for a second too long, something flickering across your face that you didn’t quite manage to hide, and Lando, filing that reaction away the same way Zak filed away everything, decided, privately, that he liked it far too much.

The ninth call started with a smell. Faint, electrical, the kind that made you second-guess yourself for a full ten minutes before you finally gave in and dialed. By the time Engine 81 arrived, you’d already gone through the house twice, sniffing at outlets like a woman losing her mind, and still couldn’t pin down where it was coming from.

“I swear it’s not nothing,” you said, meeting them at the door, arms crossed like you were bracing for someone to tell you it was.

“Didn’t say it was,” Lando said, already stepping past you into the entryway.

It took them the better part of twenty minutes to trace it, an outlet behind the bookshelf, warm to the touch, wiring beginning to scorch just under the surface without ever quite catching. Nothing dramatic. But close enough that if you hadn’t trusted your own nose, it might have gone very differently by morning.

“Good instincts,” Lando said, once it was capped off and safe. “Most people would’ve talked themselves out of calling.”

“I almost did.”

“Glad you didn’t.”

It was quiet after that, the kind of quiet that came from adrenaline draining out of a room once the danger had actually passed, and it left enough breathing room for the question that had apparently been sitting in the back of Lando’s mind for weeks.

He asked it while packing up the kit, careful to keep his tone light, like it was just curiosity and nothing more. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends what it is.”

“Why do you still live here? House tries to kill itself every other week. You’re clever enough to know a lost cause when you see one.” He said it with half a smile, testing the ground before he put his full weight on it.

You didn’t answer right away. You looked toward the entryway light instead, now steady, like the house had decided to behave for the moment. “It’s not really about the wiring.”

Lando waited. He’d learned, over the last few calls, that you talked more freely when he didn’t fill the silence for you.

“My grandparents raised me,” you said eventually. “Since I was seven. This was their house.” A small, humorless breath escaped you. “They passed last year. Four months apart, almost to the day. My grandad first, then my nan. I think she just didn’t know how to be here without him.”

Lando’s hands had gone still on the kit. “I’m sorry.”

“Everyone says that.” You said it without any bite to it, just tired honesty. “It’s fine. It’s just, they left me the house. And I know it’s falling apart, and I know the wiring’s a nightmare, and I know a sensible person would sell up and let someone else deal with it. But it’s theirs. It’s the only thing that still feels like them, some days.” You glanced at him, like you were bracing for whatever came next, pity, or the kind of sympathy that made grief feel like something to be fixed.

He didn’t offer any of that. “So you keep calling us instead of moving out.”

Something in your shoulders loosened, grateful for the shift in tone. “Efficient, I know.”

“I mean, at this rate we’re basically on a first-name basis with your fuse box.”

That got the laugh he’d been angling for, small but real, and it settled something in his chest he hadn’t realized had gone tight. “You could just say you don’t think I should sell.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Lando didn’t argue the point. He just zipped the kit shut and let the quiet stretch, comfortable this time, while outside Oscar leaned against the truck pretending very hard not to be watching the two of you through the open door.

Oscar didn’t let it go. Of course he didn’t.

“So,” he said, the next morning, far too pleased with himself as he leaned against the locker beside Lando’s. “You gonna ask for her number, or are we doing this the hard way where you just keep finding excuses to drive past Chertsey Road on your days off?”

“I don’t drive past on my days off.”

“You drove past on Tuesday.”

“I was getting coffee.”

“The coffee place is in the opposite direction.”

Lando didn’t have an answer for that, which Oscar seemed to take as its own kind of victory, grinning the rest of the way to the truck bay. It became the theme of the week, Oscar finding new and increasingly unsubtle ways to bring it up, Zak occasionally chiming in with a comment about wedding invitations, someone from B shift leaving a joke Valentine’s card taped to Lando’s locker with your future toaster house wife scrawled inside it in Oscar’s handwriting.

Lando let most of it roll off him. He was used to being teased, it came with the territory of working alongside people who spent entire shifts crammed into a truck together with nothing to do but wind each other up.

But underneath the teasing, quieter, was the part he didn’t say out loud to any of them, that he kept thinking about the way you’d talked about your grandparents. The four months between them. The way you’d braced for pity and gotten none, like you weren’t used to people just letting you finish a sentence about grief without trying to fix it. He thought about the house differently now, too. Not as a nuisance that kept dragging his engine across town at odd hours, but as something you were holding onto with both hands because it was the last place that still felt like the people who raised you.

He thought, more than once, that he should ask for your number. He thought about it enough that Oscar’s teasing had started to feel less like a joke and more like a countdown.

He was still thinking about it four days later when the call came in.

Structure fire. 4 Chertsey Road.

Not your voice on the line. A neighbor’s, panicked, breathless, saying they’d seen flames in the upstairs window and they didn’t know if anyone was inside.

Lando was moving before dispatch finished the sentence.

Tag list: @daddyrafeslittleslut

RANDOS [F1 MASTERLIST]

Oscar piastri x peter Parker 🌶

Oscar piastri x choking 🌶

Oscar piastri x reader with toxic family

Charles lecrec x scars 🌶

Charles lecrec x single mom reader

Lando norris x high sex 🌶

Lando norris x cold reader

Lando norris x sleepy reader

Lewis hamiton x y/n Jackson

Kimi antionellie x childhood sweetheart

Main masterlist

#f1 #f1 smut #lando norris #lando x reader #charles leclerc #f1 smau #lewis x reader #lewis hamilton #oscar piastri #oscar x oc

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ TOAST!

Part 1 of 3

Synopsis: Lando’s least favorite repeat call becomes the one he secretly starts hoping for when the woman living in the “toaster house” makes every emergency a little harder to leave.

Pairing: Firefighter!Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of house fires, firefighter!Lando Norris (the thought should be a warning on its own).

Words: 863

Author’s note: A little shorter than what I normally write! I mostly wrote this as a tester to see if I liked the idea, but I ended up having a lot of fun with it. I hope you like it! ♡

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ By the fourth call, Lando knew the address before dispatch finished reading it.

He was halfway through pulling on his jacket when he heard 4 Chertsey Road come through the radio, and somewhere behind him Oscar groaned dramatically enough to earn a glare from the captain.

“No,” Oscar said. “Not the toaster house.”

“The toaster house,” Lando confirmed, already reaching for his helmet.

The first time, it’d been an electrical fire in the kitchen wall. The second, a socket in the upstairs bedroom had started spitting sparks for reasons no electrician had yet managed to explain. The third, a toaster of all appliances, had somehow managed to catch fire. None of the incidents had been catastrophic, but all three had happened just late enough at night to drag Engine 81 across town, and Lando had developed the conviction that the house itself had something against him. Oscar, meanwhile, had reached the conclusion that the place was haunted by whatever ghost specialized in faulty wiring.

Rain had started sometime during the drive, fat drops rattling against the windscreen hard enough that the wipers struggled to keep up. By the time the truck rolled to a stop, he could already see the front door standing open. There was no smoke this time. Just a porch light flickering like it couldn’t decide whether it still wanted the job.

“See?” Oscar muttered beside him. “Haunted.”

Lando snorted. “It’s Surrey, mate. I’d haunt this place too.”

Every previous call had gone the same way, you’d been frantic, apologizing before he could get a word in, insisting you hadn’t done anything this time. Instead, when he climbed the front steps, he found you standing barefoot on the porch in an oversized university hoodie, hugging a mug that was sending lazy curls of steam into the air.

“I swear,” you said before he could ask what happened this time, sounding more exhausted than embarrassed, “I’m becoming your least favourite resident.”

It caught him so off guard that he laughed. Not politely. A proper laugh that escaped before he could stop it. You looked relieved, like you’d been hoping for exactly that reaction, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, the rest of his annoyance dissolved with it.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Rain drummed steadily against the porch roof. Steam curled lazily from the mug between your hands, and somewhere behind him Oscar let out an exaggerated sigh that sounded suspiciously like finally.

Lando shot him a look over his shoulder.

Oscar only raised his eyebrows.

Right. He was supposed to be working.

Lando cleared his throat, more out of habit than necessity, and nodded toward the open front door. “So,” he said, slipping back into the version of himself that belonged on the job. “What’s the house done now?”

You turned, looking over your shoulder into the house as though hoping the answer might change if you gave it another second.

“I genuinely don’t know.” There was a laugh tucked somewhere beneath the words, worn thin by exhaustion. “The lights in the living room started flickering, then half the sockets stopped working, and then there was this weird buzzing noise in the wall. I decided I’d rather call you before the house made another attempt on my life.”

“Smart,” Lando admitted.

“I can learn.”

He caught the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth as you stepped aside to let the crew in. It wasn’t the frantic, apologetic smile he’d grown used to seeing on the previous callouts. This one said you were just as fed up with whatever bizarre electrical curse had settled over the place as he was.

Oscar lingered beside him for a moment, eyes flicking between the entryway and the old staircase leading to the second floor.

Buzz.

“I’m telling you,” he murmured quietly enough that only Lando could hear. “Ghost.”

Lando rolled his eyes. “You think every old house is haunted.”

“No,” Oscar pointed toward the buzzing wall with complete sincerity. “Just the ones that keep setting breakfast appliances on fire.”

You laughed before you could catch yourself, and both firefighters looked up at the sound.

“Sorry,” you said, covering your mouth with one hand. “I know this probably isn’t funny for you.”

“It isn’t,” Lando replied, seriously.

Your shoulders dropped in immediate embarrassment. Lando held the expression for another second before the corner of his mouth gave him away. “It is a little bit.”

For the first time since he’d started coming to this address, you laughed properly. Not the strained sort people managed because they were nervous, but the kind that slipped out before they could think better of it, bright enough to fill the entryway for a second. Lando found himself smiling before he even realized he was doing it.

Oscar noticed immediately, nudging him with his elbow as they headed towards the fuse box. Lando ignored him. Mostly because he had a feeling that Oscar was about to become even more insufferable than usual if he admitted that, somewhere between the toaster incident and the mug of tea in the porch, he’d stopped thinking of this as the toaster house.

It was becoming your house.

Author’s note: Hiiiii! This is my first time posting something I’ve written so I’m a little nervous but I hope you like it! A huge thank you to my beautiful friend @clovermoters for reading it first and encouraging me to post it. You should go check out her incredible writing!

If you end up liking it, let me know! And if you’d like to see a part 2, let me know that, too! I’d love to write one. ♡

#lando norris #lando #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando x you #lando norris x you #firefighter!lando #f1 #f1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #oscar piastri #lando norris x y/n #lando x y/n #lando norris imagine #firefighter!lando norris #firefighter!lando norris x reader #a cookie for whoever gets the address thing

TSITP AU HAS HIT 8K!!! I think i'm going to try and keep chapters to around 10k words in length (some may be longer but oh well more content for you all). I'm so excited to put this out I love all the characters sm rn they're like my little babiessss.

#lando norris #oscar piastri #oscar x reader #lando x reader #max fewtrell #tsitp