Lando Norris x gf!reader (though gender isn’t specified and reader is set as a model idk)
summary: Lando Norris wants his girlfriend to move in but doesn’t have the nerve to ask directly, so he starts dropping subtle (and not-so-subtle) hints. She starts catching on.
warnings: none that i can think of. it’s just pure tooth-rotting fluff.
A/N: FIRST WRITTEN FIIICC RAAHHH!!! i’ve had this in my drafts (off tumblr) for weeks. i don’t put my writing many places so this is special 😇 i hope y’all don’t hate it because i kind of love it errmmmm ANYWAYS enjoy! happy reading 🫶 p.s. can one of y’all give me prompts, i’m so lost rn. my asks are always open ♡︎ LOVE U BABIES MWAH 💋
Lando was acting suspicious again.
Not in a cheating way. No—he was still very much the golden retriever boyfriend who texted goodnight with a heart and a photo of his feet hanging off the hotel bed. But suspicious in the “I’m clearly hiding something but I think I’m being slick about it” kind of way.
You first noticed it when you came back from Milan. You’d just wrapped a runway show and all you wanted was to crawl into Lando’s ridiculously oversized bed and not speak to another human for at least twelve hours.
Instead, you walked into his closet to steal one his hoodies, as you usually did, and found your clothes—folded. Color-coded. Already in there.
“You reorganize now?” you asked, raising a brow as he leaned against the doorframe, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he grinned. “It’s practical.”
“You’re here, like, half the time,” he shrugged. “Makes sense.”
“Except I have a place five minutes from here.”
He wasn’t wrong. Still. Weird.
—————————————————————————
The next time, it was the bathroom.
A whole drawer. Toothbrush, hairbrush, your favorite moisturizer, that one serum you can never find in the UK—he’d somehow gotten it shipped from Paris. Though, he was Lando Norris, you should’ve expected it.
You squinted at him when you found it.
He shrugged again. “I know your skin freaks out if you switch products. Thought I’d help.”
“I could’ve brought it myself.”
“Yeah, but this way, you don’t have to.” His grin widened. “Aren’t I the best boyfriend ever?”
“You’re something,” you muttered, though your cheeks flushed all the same.
—————————————————————————
But then there were his socks in your designated drawer. Your shampoo replaced by full-sized bottles of his favorites. His phone charger always “accidentally” ending up in your purse. A second key to his flat mysteriously showing up in your handbag, like it walked there itself.
You weren’t dumb. He was doing something. Slowly. Subtly.
Not once did the words “move in” pass his lips. You knew because you’d started counting how many days he danced around it.
Seventeen days of hints and nudges and one very suspicious IKEA receipt.
So naturally, you decided to make him squirm.
—————————————————————————
“Baby,” you called one afternoon, holding up a pair of his boxers from your laundry basket. “Why is your underwear here?”
Lando peeked up from his phone, lying on the sofa with his feet draped over the armrest. “We share laundry now. Efficient, no?”
“You’re not even here half the week.”
He smirked. “Yet my socks keep ending up in your drawer. Funny, that.”
“Funny…” You narrowed your eyes. “You planning on invading more drawers, Mr. Norris?”
“Just testing the waters,” he said smoothly, like it wasn’t a completely weird thing to say.
You sat beside him, kicking his legs off so you could steal his spot. “You know, normal people ask their girlfriends to move in with them.”
“Mhm. It’s this crazy concept called communication. You should try it.”
Lando turned his head, giving you that boyish smile—the one that got him out of trouble and into most people’s hearts. “And if I were to ask you… what would you say?”
You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Depends.”
“On whether I get full control of the bathroom cabinet or not.”
“Then maybe I’d say yes.”
He grinned, looking relieved. “So, hypothetically… if I didn’t want to ask because it’s terrifying and what if you say no and break my poor fragile heart—”
“—hypothetically, would it be okay if I just kept sneakily merging our lives until one day you wake up and realize we already live together?”
You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “That’s literally what you’re doing.”
He poked your knee. “It’s a love language.”
“Yours is physical touch and being annoying.”
“And yours is pretending you don’t like when I’m annoying.”
You smiled then, small and soft. The look in your eyes not less amused, but now accompanied by complete fondness and love. “You’re right.”
“I usually am,” he said, full of himself.
You nudged his shoulder. “Fine. Let’s do it.”
His mouth dropped open for a second. “Wait—you’re serious?”
You shrugged. “You said it, didn’t you? I already basically live here. Might as well make it official.”
Lando stared, like he didn’t believe you. “You want to move in with me? Like… permanently?”
“I’ve tolerated your snoring for over a year. I think I can handle the rest.”
He laughed, pulling you into his arms, half crushing you in a hug, peppering every inch of your face with kisses. “You have no idea how happy you just made me.”
“I think I do,” you said against his chest. “You’ve been plotting this since December.”
“Okay, maybe I’ve had a Pinterest board since November—don’t judge.”
You groaned. “Oh my god. You’re ridiculous.”
“I just wanted it to feel like home. Like ours. Not just mine.”
You pulled back to look at him, my expression softened. It always seemed soften with him. “It already does, Lando.”
His eyes softened, voice gentler. “Yeah?”
“Good,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Because I already ordered us a matching towel set.”
You laughed into his hoodie, shaking your head.
