He wasn’t used to this—this being whatever weird routine they were beginning to fall into. But he picked her up in the mornings, drove her home when it was late, and somewhere along the way, their silences began to fill themselves in.
At first, it was just the little things.
She always checked that the passenger seat was adjusted just right before sitting down. She liked to lean against the window, staring out at the passing streets as if she were lost in thought, even though he had no clue what went on in that head of hers.
He learned that she didn’t particularly like the news. If he had the radio on and a news segment started playing, she’d subtly shift, reaching for her bag for some book or assignment to busy herself with. It wasn’t all that obvious unless you were paying attention.
And Lando always paid attention.
Sometimes she’d come out of class looking exhausted but would perk up when she spotted his car. Sometimes, she’d say a quiet thank you after he dropped her off, even when it wasn’t necessary.
Other times, she would get into his car, sighing, and when he asked Rough day? she would just nod. But later, as they drove, she’d start talking. Not about anything particularly deep. Just… bits and pieces.
“Had a pop quiz today. My brain is fried.”
Or, “Someone spilled coffee all over the counter today. Took forever to clean up.”
Or, “It rained earlier, but I forgot my umbrella. That was fun.”
He never responded with much — just a nod, a comment, an occasional smirk. But the more she talked, the more familiar it became.
One evening, she pulled out a small book while he drove. Lando raised a brow.
“You really can read in the car?”
She glanced up. “Yeah. Why?”
“Doesn’t it make you sick?”
She blinked. “Um… no?”
Lando made a face. “That’s weird.”
She let out a small laugh, amused.”Why would reading make me sick?”
“Y’know, with all the spinnin’ n’ all that.”
Lando looked over to find that she was staring at him like he had suddenly grown a second head.
Perhaps he could have phrased that better, but whatever.
“You’re weird.”
He smirked, but it softened at the edges.
The next morning, he pulled up to the outside of her apartment, engine running as he texted her that he had arrived. The early morning fog was just beginning to dissipate, giving way instead to the first brushstrokes of warm light through layers of clouds. He scrolled mindlessly on his phone, replying to messages and checking on shipments until he finally clicked his phone off when she got into the car, rubbing her eyes sleepily.
He tossed a protein bar onto her lap. She blinked down at it. “What’s this?”
“You never eat in the mornings.”
Her brows furrowed slightly, momentarily going still, before finally deciding it was safe, unwrapping it, and taking a bite.
Lando had no idea why that small victory felt satisfying.
The first time she gave him shit for his driving, he nearly kicked her out of the car.
“You don’t even drive!” he pointed out, incredulous.
She crossed her arms. “I don’t have to drive to know that cutting through that gap was reckless.”
“If there’s a gap, m’gonna go for it, of course. It was efficient. It was fine.” He had hoped for the words to come across as reassuring, but instead he just sounded exasperated.
How was he getting criticized by someone who didn’t even know how to drive?
“It was stupid, is what it was.”
He gave her a flat look. “You do know who you’re talking to, right?”
“I don’t care if you’re some racing prodigy or Lightning McQueen himself,” she shot back, unimpressed. “I value my life, thank you very much. This whole thing was supposed to be about protecting my life, not endangering it, remember?”
Lando groaned dramatically, muttering something that best not be repeated under his breath as he pulled up to her place.
But when she got out, she hesitated, glancing back at him. She hated walking out on a bad note, and perhaps his driving wasn’t all that bad. It got her here on time, after all. Plus, with how much he probably spent on her in fuel money alone… she could probably afford to let this one slide.
Just this once.
“…Thanks for the ride,” she said, softer this time.
His fingers tapped against the wheel as he nodded in acknowledgement. He spared her the barest of glancing before looking right back ahead, as if he was already mentally mapping the route to his next destination.
Perhaps he could afford to not cut off another driver while he was speeding.
Not that I actually did anything wrong though.
He looked at her one final time as she stepped out, offering an expression that almost looked apologetic. Or maybe it was just the lighting.
“Get inside safe, yeah?”
She nodded, shutting the door behind her, and Lando sat there for a few extra seconds, drumming his fingers against the wheel before shaking his head to himself. He waited until he was sure he saw the light of her living room flick on, and then drove away into the glittering lights of Monte Carlo against the dark night sky.
The next time he saw a narrow gap he could probably slip through just in the nick of time, he decided against a risk like that, even if it appeared like it physically pained him to do so. When that got him stuck behind an elderly woman in what appeared to be an even older car, he decided that being a good samaritan was an entirely unsustainable lifestyle, and that perhaps he could save these rare moments of caution and goodwill for when he might have another passenger in his car.
What was happening to him?
Over time, they learned each other’s habits, molding to become complementary to each other as they learned to exist in this shared, confined, space.
Y/N liked to listen to music, but never played anything too loud.
Lando always adjusted his seat at least once before he began driving.
She fiddled with the strap of her bag when she was nervous.
He drummed his fingers against the wheel when he was deep in thought.
She had a tendency to drop random tidbits about her day, and Lando—surprisingly—listened.
“Did you know that sea otters hold hands while they sleep so they don’t drift apart?” she mentioned one evening.
Lando glanced at her. “Why do you know that?”
She shrugged. “I read it somewhere.”
A beat of silence. Then, “That’s kinda cute.”
She turned to him, smirking. “Aww. You have a soft side after all.”
Lando scoffed. “Shut up.”
She laughed.
Yeah. This was getting way too comfortable.
Lando wasn’t in the house as much anymore. He was still working of course, but he wasn’t around the way he used to be.
Max Fewtrell was the first to say something, leaning against the counter in the kitchen of Lando’s estate, sipping from a mug that definitely wasn’t his. “You notice he’s been out a lot?”
Carlos Sainz, sitting on one of the barstools, barely looked up from his phone. “He is always out a lot.”
“No, I mean—” Max gestured vaguely. “More than usual.”
Max Verstappen, who had been cleaning his gun with methodical precision, let out a quiet grunt. “Maybe you should mind your own business.”
Daniel Ricciardo grinned from where he was stretched out on the couch, arms crossed behind his head. “C’mon, Maxie, don’t act like you haven’t noticed. Something’s got him out and about more than usual.”
Fewtrell huffed, pointing at Daniel. “Exactly.” He turned back to Verstappen. “You’re telling me you haven’t clocked how often he’s dipping out? No meetings, no business, no us—just gone.”
Carlos finally set his phone down, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Maybe he’s just got something going on.”
“Or someone,” Daniel drawled, smirking.
Max Verstappen snorted, shaking his head. “Lando doesn’t do someone. Not consistently, at least.”
“Maybe not,” Fewtrell mused. “But—”
Right on cue, the front door opened, and Lando walked in, car keys spinning around his finger. He looked the same as ever, expression calm, but they knew him. And they could tell—he was up to something.
Daniel pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Where have you been, boss?”
Lando gave him a slow look before tossing his keys onto the counter. “Why? You miss me?”
Daniel laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Fewtrell raised a brow. “Seriously, though. You’ve been out more than usual.”
Lando shrugged. “Just handling things, you know how it is”
Verstappen leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing him. “Anything we should know about?”
Lando’s gaze flicked to him. He could feel them all watching, waiting for something—an answer, an explanation.
He gave them nothing.
“If you needed to know,” he said smoothly, “I’d tell you.”
Carlos let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Guess that’s that.”
Fewtrell wasn’t fully convinced, but he let it drop. For now.
Daniel smirked as Lando turned to leave. “If you are sneaking off to see someone, could you at least let me know so I can start placing bets?”
Lando flipped him off over his shoulder. The second he was gone, Fewtrell exhaled, shaking his head. “He’s definitely up to something.”
Verstappen hummed, leaning back, his gaze lingering on the door.
Whatever it was, they’d find out eventually.
The sun had already dipped below the horizon when Lando sat in the driver’s seat of his car, a rare moment of peace between the errands, the dealings, and everything else that had started crowding his head. She slid into the passenger seat, her bag slung across her lap, eyes a little more tired than usual. The weight of her upcoming midterms, work, and just the general stress of life had started showing in the shadows under her eyes.
He started the engine, glancing at her. They hadn’t said much in the last few minutes. The usual music wasn’t playing, and he didn’t feel like bothering with small talk, so instead, he reached for the radio dial.
“–And in local news, authorities are investigating the rise of The Reaper’s Circle, an organized criminal syndicate suspected of controlling various illicit activities across Monaco and beyond…”
Lando froze, his fingers hovering over the dial. He didn’t even need to hear more to know exactly where this was headed. The Reaper’s Circle. His circle.
The sound of the anchor’s voice blurred as his mind flicked to the possible consequences of what she might think. He hadn’t told her—hadn’t come close to it—but this was the kind of news she might have heard.
He glanced over at her. She was staring out the window, arms crossed over her chest, as if the news broadcast wasn’t even a thing, but he couldn’t shake the tightness in his chest. Was she already aware of Liam’s darker side? Did she know what the Reaper’s Circle stood for, what it was involved in?
The world of crime, of shadowy deals, of the kind of life he had kept carefully hidden from her was now creeping into the conversation, into her thoughts.
“You, uh, hear about this?” he asked, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible. He knew he couldn’t sound too offhand about it either. He had to gauge her reaction, figure out what she thought of it. What she knew.
She shifted in her seat, but didn’t turn to face him. “Not really,” she said, her voice distant. “Just that it’s… some big, like, gang or something, right?” She didn’t sound as if she cared much. Or maybe she was just choosing not to care.
Lando bit back a sigh of relief, but that relief didn’t last long. She had heard the name, though, hadn’t she? And she was living here long enough to know what kind of reputation The Reaper’s Circle had, even amongst all rumors. People who weren't directly involved in the business rarely understood the nuances—the difference between what was just noise and what was truly dangerous.
The radio was still blaring on, the words seeping into the car like a slow leak.
“Authorities have not yet identified the leader of the Reaper’s Circle, but rumors suggest it's someone with deep ties in Monaco’s elite—someone like Lando Norris, who has been involved in several high-profile events in recent months…”
The reporter’s voice faded as Lando turned down the volume. The silence was suffocating now. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, but she seemed lost in thought. Her lips were pressed tight, and she stared ahead at the streetlights flickering by.
“Do you think they’re right?” she asked softly, almost like she didn’t care to know but felt compelled to ask anyway. Her gaze was still fixed out the window.
“What?” He feigned ignorance. “About who’s behind the Circle?”
“Yeah,” she said. “People talk, you know? That guy, Norris something… Lando? Yeah, Lando Norris – do you really think he’s done all those things they’re saying?”
He felt the pressure building in his chest again. She hadn’t asked him directly, but it felt like she was. It felt strange to hear her say his name like that – like that name, his name, somehow belonged with the likes of the scum of the earth. She didn’t know him as Lando, but she had to know about the rumors surrounding that name.
“I’m sure it’s all just talk,” he said, trying to shrug it off, but it came out more clipped than he intended. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he wasn’t about to tell her the truth, either. He wasn’t ready for that conversation. Not now.
She didn’t respond immediately, and they rode in silence for a few moments. He could almost hear the gearing turning in her head. It was strange how he could feel the shift in the air when she was thinking, when she was quietly piecing things together.
“Well,” she said finally, “if it’s just rumors, I don’t think it matters.”
Lando let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. But then she continued, her voice distant again, “But… I don’t know. It just sounds so… dirty.”
“Some of the stuff I hear,” she added, her voice quiet and thoughtful, “it’s like… it’s almost impossible to believe. But then again, I’ve lived here long enough to know that nothing is really what it seems.” She paused, glancing at him briefly. “It’s funny, though. People still want to get close to it, don’t they? Like, they want a piece of the power, even if it’s just being near it. You can feel the pull.”
Lando swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. He had to force himself to let the silence stretch, knowing that any words from him would be too much. He kept his voice level when he spoke.
“It's dangerous stuff, for sure,” he said softly, his tone soft but probing. "What do you think?"
She hesitated for a long moment, then finally spoke, her voice more quiet than usual.
"I think..." She trailed off, collecting her thoughts carefully before speaking again. " I think it’s... immoral, obviously." She paused, eyes still on the passing streets outside. "There’s a lot of people who get hurt, you know? It’s not just business. There are consequences for the things people do, especially when they’re..." She sighed, shaking her head slightly. "Well, when they’re involved in that kind of thing."
Lando stayed quiet, heart beating just a little faster now, but not because he was worried. More because he knew she was right, in a way. He knew how things worked—he knew the cost of everything.
But what was he supposed to say? That he was the one behind it all? That he was the one pulling the strings? He couldn’t. Not yet.
She nodded slowly, her eyes focused out the window, but he could see the contemplation in the set of her shoulders, the way her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, and for a split second, he thought she might ask him if he was connected. If he was part of it.
But instead, she murmured, almost too quietly for him to hear, “I don’t know. I guess I can’t understand why anyone would choose that kind of life. It’s... dark. Full of lies and betrayal. It just can’t be worth it, right?”
Lando’s chest tightened. His heart beat faster than he wanted it to.
She wasn’t talking about him—she was talking about the Circle, about the darkness, about the world he moved in. But her words hit harder than he expected. And when she looked over at him, her gaze flickering with curiosity, he saw the same questions there. The same doubts.
He forced a smile. “Guess that’s why some people like living in the light.”
She offered him a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I suppose so.”
He wasn’t sure if she had connected the dots yet, but hearing her words stung nonetheless. He wanted to say something, to defend himself or explain. But the truth was, she didn’t really know him—not the full picture. And he wasn’t ready to let her.
“You don’t have to worry about it,” he said softly, glancing at her. “It’s nothing. They’re just trying to make something out of nothing.”
Plus, none of those idiots can hurt you when you’re with me anyway.
She nodded absently. “I guess so.”
For the rest of the drive, Lando focused on the road, each streetlight flickering by like the fading fragments of the conversation they’d just had. But as he pulled into her neighborhood, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the gap between them had somehow widened—something had shifted, and he wasn’t sure if it was a crack in the foundation or just the weight of the world finally settling between them.
He parked the car and waited for her to step out.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said, her voice soft.
Was it quieter than usual?
“No problem,” he replied, his fingers gripping the wheel a little harder than necessary.
She didn’t look back at him as she walked toward her apartment, the soft click of her shoes echoing in the night. But he couldn’t help but wonder, just for a second, if she’d already made up her mind about him—about the things he’d done, the things she didn’t know.
Would she ever look at him the same way again?
The rest of his drive home was quiet, the radio continuing to hum in the background, the news segment forgotten, but the weight of it lingered. Lando couldn’t stop thinking about it—the fact that she didn’t know, couldn’t know, wouldn’t know the extent of his life, of the world he was part of. He had been so careful to keep it separate, so careful to hide the man behind the name. But for the first time, he wondered if it was enough.
And for the first time, Lando wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending.
a/n: another chapter that felt a bit filler-ish to me. hopefully it wasn't too boring haha
also thank you for the asks and comments! each one literally has me jumping up and down with joy
Greetingsss, sssuper ssstar. I am a tailor by trade and was curiousss about your measssurementsss. Who doesss your wardrobe?
“Well of course ya’d wanna know! Well, I suppose I could share my secret~” He hummed, leaning back on his bed. “It’s Velvette, she’s the stylist for the entire team and all. That’s kinda’ her thing, sweetheart.” Back with the Vee’s, means back to the act…great. Back to the day in’s and out’s he supposed.
